Hey Mister Dee Jay

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal

This is a story based on actual events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

*

I was a Mass Communications major in college. With my degree, you could go into radio, television, film, or journalism. Unfortunately, there were far more people looking to go into those fields than there were actual openings. I took to telling people what my major was by saying “Mass Communications, would you like fries with that?”

I had decided I wanted to be a disc jockey. I loved music, and years and years of music lessons had proved to me that if I wanted a future in music, it would have nothing to do with performing it. Of course, when I would tell people I wanted to be a disc jockey, they would usually make a face and say ‘oh, you want to be the next Howard Stern?’ And I would say, ‘no, I just like playing music.’

I was actually one of the lucky ones who found their way into a radio station. I worked for an AM station right out of college, but that hardly counted. It was a news/talk station. I replayed tapes of Rush Limbaugh’s show at night. It wasn’t really what I set out to do but it counted as ‘experience.’ It was also a financially inadequate position, so once my lease was up on my apartment in my college town, I had to leave the job behind and go back home.

My radio career came to a quick end, right? I puttered around in minimum wage retail jobs for a few months, directionless and miserable. I mean, I worked at Kids R Us. I didn’t like children, and I didn’t like clothes, so you could imagine how much I hated working in a children’s clothing store.

However, fate was on my side. A friend of mine worked at a nursing home where she ran into a disc jockey of a radio station who was visiting his grandmother. She told him about me and got me his number, which led to an interview with the manager of the FM station. Things were looking up until I followed up with the manager a week later and found out he had been sacked.

Luckily for me, a spot opened up on the AM station, where I found myself actually on the air three days a week playing soft rock music to virtually nobody. This went on for months, working Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and maybe picking up the occasional open shift, but I got on the air, which was all that mattered, and I got the experience that I needed to get good. Finally, about 8 months later someone left the FM station and in the reshuffling the overnight slot became open, and was mine if I wanted it.

I jumped at the chance. Who needed sleep anyway? I was thrilled that I would be getting to play music for 30 hours a week to an actual audience, but as far as compensation went, I actually had to take a slight pay cut when I left Kids R Us. Also, the equipment was antique. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job, but it was a lousy place to work, situated in a converted old house way back from the road on a residential street. Still, the odds of making it even to the worst shift on the lousiest station were probably less than 1%, so I couldn’t complain. I relished every moment I was able to sit in the ‘big chair’ and broadcast.

We played ‘alternative music’, bands like REM and U2 and Pearl Jam and Nirvana and plenty of other artists from the 80’s and 90’s. It was July, 1999 when I began my shift. The current overnight guy was moving to mornings. He was the epitome of someone who wanted to be ‘the next Howard Stern’. He tried his best to be controversial, and ended up getting himself fired within a few months because his idea of being controversial was to air the station’s dirty laundry, which just made management angry.

I inherited a stalker from him. She was a nice enough girl, more goofy than crazy. She used to turn up during his shift and bring him odd gifts. Flowers, ice cream, Playboy magazines, things like that. She showed up during my third week on the air bearing similar gifts for me, with an equally goofy male friend in tow. I had no interest in stalkers. It fed the last guy’s ego, but I didn’t really have one, so I politely discouraged the behavior, and she left me alone. She was kind of young and she wasn’t all that attractive, either. Maybe if she was better looking I would have been more interested.

That’s not to say that I didn’t eventually put together a small following. Alone in the radio station all night, there wasn’t much else to do and it was hard to stay awake sometimes, so I took to talking to whoever would call in to pass the time. The ratio was at least 90% female among my frequent callers. I ended up being on the phone for hours at a time with some of my listeners, pausing whenever I needed or wanted to go on the air, which got comical sometimes when I had to virtually drop the phone in the middle of a conversation to rush to the microphone. Still, I developed some good friendships with a number of insomniacs.

I knew from the first time that Stacy called that she was different. You could sense that she had an agenda. Most of the callers were bored or escort ataşehir lonely, and at least somewhat curious to find out about the guy that they had been listening to on the radio. Stacy didn’t really convey any of that. She made some small talk, and although it was a good conversation within barely 10 minutes she stated that ‘we should get together sometime’.

It’s not like meeting women wasn’t one of my major goals. I was pretty much single at the time. I had given up on a long distance relationship when I took over the night shift. It wasn’t really going anywhere and I didn’t have the energy for the long drive while I was nocturnal. In typical rebound fashion I was sort of dating a girl that was living right around the corner from my house, but it was also clearly doomed to crash and burn. We had gotten together about once a week for the past two months and there wasn’t even any physical contact. To be honest, I was hoping eventually a girl would call into the station and want to meet me and have some kind of relationship. I just didn’t expect her to be this aggressive. I kind of laughed her off. She wasn’t being reasonable and suggested I should come over to her house. Somebody would suggest that to a complete stranger, in this day and age, really? She gave up after a few suggestions and ended the phone conversation. I figured that was the end of Stacy.

A week or so later she called again. She began telling me some bizarre story about being in the woods with some friends and taking her top off. I was only half-listening, since it was early in my shift and I was still pulling CD’s off the shelves for later on in the night. Once the story was over she suggested that we get together again. I called her bluff again. I asked her when and where we should get together. She said again that I should come to her house.

“Umm, no,” I clearly remember saying, “If we’re going to meet we need to do so in a public place.”

“What’s the matter?” Stacy replied, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Well, I’ve had nothing but two phone conversations with you,” I said, “I think it’s the safest thing to do. Besides, you hardly know anything about me, either.”

“I know that you have the sexiest voice that I’ve ever heard,” Stacy said. “You make me so hot listening to you on the air. Do you know what I will do to you when you come over?”

Hack me into pieces with an axe? I thought to myself. “No, what would you do?” I asked.

“Well, first I would take off all of your clothes,” she said, “And then I would do a little strip tease for you.”

No way! I thought to myself. Is she seriously going to try to have phone sex with me? I glanced at the clock. The next scheduled break was after the next song and I would need to go on the air.

“I would take off my shirt and start playing with my boobs,” Stacy said. She sounded lost in her own world. Maybe if I put the phone down and did my thing she wouldn’t even notice. “Then, I would pull my pants down and show you my lacy underwear,” she continued. “You like?”

“Yeah, it’s very nice,” I said to her while I was setting up the commercials for the break.

“Then I would get on my knees and start sucking on your hard cock,” she said. “I would lick it and suck it and stroke it. Mmm,” she said, “Am I turning you on?”

“Yeah,” I said, and I was being honest, because despite the absurdity of the situation I was getting hard. Like I said, I was hoping someone would come along with some interest in me, and although this Stacy character was coming on a little too strong, and I wasn’t really into phone sex, her narrative was getting me aroused. I glanced at the CD player. 30 seconds to go in the song. I knew I was going to have to cut her off at an important moment.

“Then I would take my panties off and straddle you,” Stacy said, “I would ride you in the reverse cowgirl position, then I would get off and you would take me doggie-style.”

“Hang on, I gotta go on the air,” I said and put the phone down. It was all I could do not to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. “You’re listening to modern rock radio, I’m your dee jay Rosie, you were listening to Give it Away by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and coming up after the break we have Nirvana.” I had a 30 second spot to play, then a live promo to read to promote one of the live shows we were sponsoring, then another 30 second spot before we went back to another song, so it was probably two whole minutes that I left Stacy holding in the middle of phone sex. “Modern rock radio, Rosie speaking, as promised here’s Nirvana with Lithium.” I cranked up the intro and turned off my mike. Then I picked up the phone again. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“That’s ok,” she said, “You’ve got your job to do. That’s why you should come over here sometime.”

“Hey look,” I said, “I’m not going over to the house of some girl I’ve never met. If you’re serious about meeting me, let’s meet at a diner or something before or after kadıköy escort my shift.”

“Well, didn’t I turn you on?” Stacy said.

“Yeah,” I said truthfully, “But I’m not going to meet you unless it’s in a public place. Unless you want to come down to the station,” I said. There was no way she would come to the station, I figured. It wasn’t too hard to find us, but in all my time on the night shift I only had visitors three times. One was the crazy stalker, then there was a cop who used to always call with requests that stopped by on his patrol and gave me his card and told me to call him if I ever needed anything, and this one other time two girls actually showed up. I gave them a few key chains and bumper stickers, and then they were off without saying a word. Every once in a while I would make some offhand remark on the air about having people visit me at the station, but to be honest it wasn’t such a good idea. Every time somebody knocked on the station’s front door in the middle of the night it scared the crap out of me. I was all alone in the middle of nowhere and you never knew what might happen if someone showed up.

“Sure, maybe I’ll do that sometime,” Stacy said. “Well anyway, I’d better go to bed. I’ll probably get myself off first. Will you be thinking about me?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“Will you think about me the next time you jerk off?” She asked.

“I promise,” I said.

“Good,” she said, and she hung up the phone.

For the next couple of days I would occasionally wonder if she was actually going to show up, and I enjoyed telling my friends and frequent callers about the girl that tried to have phone sex with me in the middle of my shift. A couple of weeks passed and I pretty much forgot all about Stacy again.

It was 2am on a Wednesday morning when I saw the flash of light outside the station window. A car was pulling into the parking lot! Luckily I wasn’t on the air at that moment because I yelled, “Holy shit!” I had just changed songs to Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden, and cued up the next track, so I had a few minutes before I needed to do anything else. (An aside, being a dee jay gave me an almost unhealthy obsession with punctuality, you were constantly planning your next move, like, okay, you have 3:31 until the next song, that one is 4:26, then you’re going to play an 8 second promo over the intro to a 2:43 song and then go on the air leading into two 30 second commercials and then go back on the air and introduce the next song that lasts 4:17, and so on.)

I crept apprehensively from the studio into the station office to try to see who it was. I couldn’t imagine who it might be. There were no lights outside, so it was hard to see anything out the window, so I stood in the office, heart thumping and staring at the front door, idly wondering if and where there was anything I could use as a weapon. My mind kept going back to a number of rolled up posters promoting the movie Clerks that we had sitting on top of one of the shelves.

Suddenly the knock came. I was expecting it and I still jumped. I swallowed hard and walked over to the door. I thought about asking who it was before I opened it but it wasn’t even locked. I finally figured that if it was a deranged person I may as well hurry up and get murdered already. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

There was an incredibly attractive woman standing in the doorway. She was tall and pale with long black hair. She had dark brown eyes and pouty lips. She was wearing a long overcoat that went all the way down to the floor.

She noticed me staring at her. “You like?” She asked, striking a pose.

The way she said that brought memories of Stacy rushing back to me. “Are you Stacy?” I asked tentatively.

“You were expecting someone else? How many women do you invite to the station?” She asked playfully.

“Precious few, but you never know, I guess,” I said.

“You’re clearly too surprised to invite me inside,” Stacy said, stepping past me and into the office. She took in the room with one sweeping gaze. There was a desk where the receptionist sat during the day, and the wall on the right behind the desk was decorated with photos of rock stars and gold records. To the left was the bathroom and the door that led to the offices, with a large filing cabinet where the call-in prizes were kept. Straight ahead were the doors to the AM and FM studios. It was an old and unkempt place. “Nice place you’ve got here,” Stacy said. “You are dee jay Rosie, I presume.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, not so much frightened anymore, more in awe of the beautiful creature that just walked into the room. Sometimes you’ve got to just shrug your shoulders and figure that if you’ve gotta go, you’d really want to be done in by a beautiful woman. “Nice to meet you,” I deadpanned. “I’d give you a tour, but you’ve seen the whole place already.”

“I gathered that,” she replied, “And I’m guessing you’re the only one here.”

“Yeah,” maltepe escort bayan I said again, “How could you tell?”

“Well,” Stacy said, “There were two cars in the parking lot and one of them looks like it hasn’t been driven in years. Oh, and don’t forget the prize van.”

“Yeah,” I said again, my mind drifting towards the song playing which you could clearly hear in the office. I figured I had about a minute left.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Stacy asked.

“Sorry,” I said, “I’m a bit shy without a microphone in front of me.”

“Well, go do your thing,” Stacy said.

“Okay,” I said, and started walking away like I was waiting for her permission. I walked back into the FM studio and sat in the big chair. 20 seconds to go. I decided that I’d go on the air and make a nice segue. As Black Hole Sun faded out I hit play on the next track, Cherub Rock by Smashing Pumpkins and clicked on my mike. “Modern rock radio, Rosie here, that was Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden. It’s 2:04 here, and maybe the same time where you are, it’s 57 degrees outside, but maybe you’re a little warmer depending on what you’re doing at this hour. Here’s the Smashing Pumpkins with Cherub Rock. You’re listening to modern rock radio.”

I clicked off the mike and cued up the next song in the CD player. It was only then that I realized that Stacy had come into the studio at some point. The FM studio was a cramped place. There were rows upon rows of shelves of CD’s which took up three-quarters of the tiny room. The work space was an antiquated board with a rack of CD players on the right side, and a table holding the tape players and a telephone on the left. A large window in front of the board looked into the AM studio. Stacy hovered by the door, grinning at me.

“That was pretty good,” Stacy said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Did you make all of that up as you go along?” Stacy asked.

“Yeah, usually I just wing it,” I said, “Sometimes when I’m not being distracted I’ll plan out what I’m going to say.”

“Sorry, am I distracting you?” Stacy asked.

“No,” I said, “I mean, usually I’m on the phone talking to a listener at this time of night.” As if on cue, the studio phone rang. The phone was rigged to be silent, so instead of making noise it ‘rang’ by blinking a strobe light so that it wouldn’t be heard over the air. I leaned over and peered at the caller ID. It was one of my regular listener/callers. She would know that if I didn’t answer the phone there was a good reason.

“So, you don’t get a lot of visitors here?” Stacy asked.

“No, definitely not at 2am,” I said. I looked her up and down as I said that, and realized that she was still wearing her coat. “You can take off your coat and get comfortable,” I said.

“Thanks,” Stacy said, “But I’ll leave it on for now.”

I took that as a sign that she wasn’t intending to stay. I was part relieved and part disappointed. I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that she was a lunatic, and was going to get disruptive and end up getting me fired, but she was gorgeous, and that carried a lot of weight when you were a hard-up 24 year old.

“Well, you could sit down at least,” I said, gesturing to a beaten up old plastic white chair that was the only other chair in the room.

“Thanks,” she said, as if she was waiting for the invitation. She walked over and sat in the seat, and somehow made it look like it was a perfectly comfortable place to sit down.

We were both silent for a few minutes. Cherub Rock ended, and I switched songs again. Stacy was watching me intently, which made me a little uncomfortable. I could feel those dark brown eyes boring into the back of my head. “You know, I’m not used to having an audience,” I said, “At least, nobody actually watching me work.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve always fantasized about being all alone with a dee jay with a sexy voice in a radio station.”

I turned to face her. “Is this everything you hoped for?” I asked.

There must have been something about the way I said that, because her tone changed. She took a deep breath. “Okay, truth,” she said, “I’m a junior in college. I’m an economics major. I listen to your show when I’m up late at night studying and I do think you have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. You also seemed like a nice, funny guy over the air and I wanted to meet you, but I had this fantasy about being a crazy stalker type and I was trying to live it out. Guess it didn’t work out so well.”

That put me much more at ease. “And to be honest I much prefer the real you to a crazy stalker type.” I took a pause and continued, “And I always had a fantasy about a beautiful woman coming to the station when I was alone here at night,” I replied. I turned back to the board to check how much time I had left on the current song and that the next song was cued up. I could see my reflection in the studio window. Compared to Stacy and her pale beauty I was tall and thin. Months of being nocturnal made me look pale and vampirish, and I didn’t think it suited me well. I hoped that my sexy voice overcame the fact that I wasn’t really looking my best.

“So, is this everything you hoped for, so far?” Stacy asked.

“So far,” I said flippantly.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

İlk yorum yapan olun

Bir yanıt bırakın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.


*