Takedown

Toby looks at the tablet a few more seconds, then shuts it off and tosses it on my desk. “If you say so.” Then he gives me a taunting grin. “So, when are you going to step aside and hand over the reins of the show to the younger, more virile generation? And by that I mean me.”

As if I had any doubt who the fucker meant. “Whenever I get tired of women screaming my name, asshole.”

Toby guffaws and lifts his brows. “Maybe they’re just playing the part. Did you think about that? I mean, they're coming on live TV to have an orgasm. They could totally be faking it.”

“And that cum all over my face every single night? They’re faking that too?” I point my fingers at him like two guns and wink. “Think again. Those pussies gush all over me like a fucking geyser.”

“Fuck. You are one lucky Bastard, Jake.”

I am. Not gonna lie. I’m a fucking billionaire because I’m a master at making women come, and I have them lining up begging me to eat them out night after night. Doesn’t get much better than that. “Maybe one day you’ll reach my level, man,” I joke.

Toby and I go back years, and even though he works for me and we have a bit of a mentor/apprentice type relationship, he’s one of my closest friends. We give each other hell just for the fun of it.

“One day? How about right the fuck now? And let’s make it interesting. A grand says I can pick up any woman out tonight before you.”

I’ve never been able to resist a good bet. “You’re on. Loser not only pays up, but has to buy the beers as well.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Toby thrusts his hand out and we shake. "Hope you brought your credit card, bitch.”

I laugh as I stand from my desk and we make our way out of the studio. I may have just had the best show of the entire A Cunning Linguist run tonight, but I’m still dealing with a fucking chub and it’s past time to find someone and get it taken care of.

Layla

Standing in front of my boss’ door, I lift my hand and knock. I have no idea why Lori is calling me into her office this early. I mean, I’ve barely had time to grab coffee and turn my computer on.

“Come in,” Lori’s clipped voice comes through the thick wood.

Wondering what kind of mood she’s in, I turn the knob and enter her office. It’s not that she’s a bitch. Not exactly, though some people would probably view her as one. She’s just worked really damn hard to get where she is. Working for the FCC can be fucking hard, and Lori’s had to prove herself every step of the way.

I actually admire her. She’s pretty much reached the pinnacle of her career. She’s the top in her profession. I hope to one day be like her.

Looking around the office, I find Lori sitting up straight behind her desk, looking perfectly polished and put together. This office could be an advertisement for organization. Everything has a place, and it’s always exactly where it belongs. I almost wonder how she gets anything done because her office looks so unworked in. But that’s Lori. She’s the poster child for a government official, a bureaucrat that is orderly to a fault.

Lori doesn’t break the rules.

Which is probably how she’s climbed to such heights with the FCC.

“Good morning, Layla,” she greets me with a smile. For all her official-ness and nothing but business attitude, she’s still friendly with me. Probably because I work my ass off too.

“Morning, Lori,” I say, crossing to her desk and sitting down gingerly on the chair across from her. It’s a bit stiff and uncomfortable, and I end up sitting as rigidly as Lori because of it. She probably chose the chair on purpose. I can just see her not wanting anyone getting too comfortable or making themselves at home. “What can I do for you this morning?”

She dives right in.

“Have you heard of A Cunning Linguist?” Her eyes narrow and her gaze sharpens as she scrutinizes my face. It’s like she’s trying to get a read on me.

I nod, not sure where she’s going with this, but sure it has something to do with the FCC. Because I have heard of the show, and I can’t imagine Lori asking me to come into her office for some water cooler chat about a late-night talk show about sex.

“I have heard of it, but I can’t say I’ve ever watched it.”

Why would I? ACL is more of a self-help show than a talk show, and my sex life is just fine. I don’t need dating or sex advice. While I don’t really have time to pursue an actual relationship because my job keeps me so busy, I do get out and date. And I know what I like and I know how to get it. So yeah, my sex life is perfectly satisfying. I can have casual hookups whenever I want without the complication of anything else. I definitely don’t need advice on how to have better orgasms, so I can’t say I’ve actually watched the show. Though the self-proclaimed sex guru, Jacob Kent isn’t hard on the eyes. If I ever did watch the show, he’d be the reason.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Lori says, pursing her lips, looking for all the world like the mere idea of me watching the show is enough to make her nauseous. “That show is downright obscene.”

I press my lips together, trying not to smile. I don’t know if obscene is the word I’d use, but Lori’s stance on the matter is clear.

“They’ve gone too far this time, Layla.” She reaches up to pat her perfectly coiffed bun at the nape of her neck. I wonder what she’d look like if she let her hair down—literally and figuratively—once in a while. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without that severe bun pulling at her temples. “Look at this.”

Lori turns her computer monitor to face me and clicks the little arrow to make the YouTube clip of what must be A Cunning Linguist start playing. Her mouth tightens into a firm line.