On the Line by Donna Hill Page A

he pounded me. After a long, gratifying session, I finally made Vince explode inside of me by squeezing his dick really hard with my pussy muscles. I was satisfied but Vince wasn’t. He wanted to taste me some more, so I got comfortable and allowed him to delight in my pussy paradise until every nerve in my body felt as if it had been struck by lightning. When I finally had enough, I snuggled up to Vince and we both fell fast asleep.
    So there you have it, Joy. I’m sleeping with my stepson and I’m enjoying it. We don’t fly back home for another two days and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it. I have got to go now. Vince is touching himself in his sleep and I feel like committing dick murder.
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    I drop the e-mail like it had caught on fire. Dayum! Macy couldn’t hit those bleep buttons fast enough. I clear my throat. “There you have it, listeners. I do hope that this sister is listening. You know you can’t keep this up. At some point you are going to have to make up your mind. This is a fatality waiting to happen. We want to hear from you not about you. Get my drift? Well, WHOT family, looks like we’re out of time. We were rocking and rolling tonight. And we’ll be back tomorrow for some more action-packed drama. So, until next time, remember life is what you make it. This is Joy Newhouse, Lata!”
    I snatch off my headphones and drop them on top of the console and fall back in my seat. Oh what a night, to borrow a line from the mighty Dells. I’m still shook up about the attempted suicide and the chick with her stepson. What is wrong with people?
    Macy comes into the studio and pulls up a seat next to me. “You okay?”
    I nod numbly. “Yeah. I’m good.” I turn to look at her. “Some show, huh?”
    â€œYeah. Wanna grab some coffee?”
    I shake my head. “No. I’m going to go on home.”
    She pats my shoulder. “See you tomorrow, then. And don’t sweat Bledsoe. You know he’s not ready for prime time.” She forces a laugh then pushes up from the chair and leaves.
    I sit there for a few minutes until I hear movement at the door and see Tommy, who heads up the gospel show until the morning drive, come through the door.
    â€œWild show, Joy,” he says, and walks in.
    â€œAlways,” I chirp, forcing cheer and nonchalance into my voice.
    He grins. “Princess of the airwaves.”
    I get up. “Have a good show, Tommy. Maybe you can tell your holy listeners to say some prayers or sing some songs for mine.”
    He laughs from deep in his gut. “Your folks need more than song and prayer.”
    Humph. He’s probably right.
    I gather up my belongings and walk out. Before I leave I go to my small office and pick up my bag of mail. I figure I’ll read a few letters before bed. That usually helps to relax me.

CHAPTER 7
    I putter around the kitchen, waiting for the pot of water to boil for some tea, then take my cup of chamomile tea to the bedroom. On my way I notice a note under my front door. Frowning, I go to the door and pick up the folded piece of white paper and open it.
    Joy,
    I wanted you to know that I really dig you and hope we can see each other again. Listened to your show tonight. Glad everything turned out okay. Give me a call sometime.
    Randy Temple
    His number was written at the bottom. I didn’t know whether to feel good or scared. Was this brother stalking me? When did he leave the note? I’d swear it wasn’t there when I came in, but maybe it was. I shake my head, determined to toss off the sense of unease, and go to my bedroom.
    I probably should have listened to all of Macy’s warnings about letting strange men into my apartment. She had good reason to warn me.
    About four years ago, just when my show was really getting hot and my ratings were on and popping, there was this guy who would be standing outside the studio at the end of my shift. At first I