Free The Word Master by Jason Luke Page A

“You’re early.” He came to the doorway, brushed past me and then reached back to pull the office door closed. His face was awash with embarrassment. He tucked the binoculars under his shirt and made a lunge for the coffee machine.
    For several minutes Grover worked studiously at the machine, making coffee with the concentration of an alchemist. He handed me a Styrofoam cup with a sheepish grin. “So…” he muttered at last. “April told me the big bad bitch is changing the format of the program tonight. Wanna share the news?”
    I took the cup and set it back down. “There are a couple of things she wants changed,” I said. “If the Sondra woman calls tonight you are to put her on hold. I’ll talk to her off the air. The call isn’t to come through to the studio. Okay?”
    Grover nodded. He sipped at his coffee and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Cool,” he said.
    I glanced at April. “And there are to be no calls between twelve-thirty and the one o’clock news. Collett wants me to go on the air and just talk to listeners. She wants me to get some kind of a submissive club going.”
    “A club?” April sounded bewildered.
    I nodded. “She wants me to start giving instructions to women who want to experience submission – like a remote control Master, I suppose,” I shrugged my shoulders. Talking about the idea now, the concept sounded almost foolish. Somehow, when Nancy had explained it, the idea had made good sense. Now I wasn’t so sure. My uncertainty was reflected in my voice, and mirrored by April’s expression.
    “How is that going to work?” she asked.
    I made a pained face. “I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m just going to wing it.”
    I could see April’s hesitation. “We’ll have to adjust the playlists, and the schedule of calls,” she balked.
    I nodded. “I know. I thought we could take a caller before the twelve-thirty break tonight, and then work in the rest of the calls and the music after we try the sub-club segment.”
    April’s frown deepened. I knew the reality of radio programming wasn’t as easy as I had just made it sound. The changes would require a lot of behind-the-scenes adjustments, and that meant more work for April.
    She took a deep breath and folded her arms. “Okay,” she said with an intrepid sigh. “We’ll give it a try.”

Chapter 11.
     
    “Take line seventeen,” Grover’s voice came over the speaker, even before the first song had finished playing. “Her name’s Gwen, and she sounds kinda interesting.”
    Dutifully, April accepted the call into the studio.
    “Hi Gwen,” she said without her usual touch of sultry sensuality. “You’re on the air with Jericho James. What would you like to ask?”
    The caller sounded nervous. There was a stammer in her voice. She sounded mature – maybe in her forties or fifties.
    “Um… hi, Jericho,” Gwen hesitated. “I’ve been listening avidly to your show all week and I really like your attitude towards BDSM.”
    I smiled as I spoke. “Thanks, Gwen. That’s nice of you to say. Are you involved in the lifestyle?”
    “Oh, god no!” Gwen said in an incredulous breath. “I guess I’m just like the majority of your listeners. I’m curious.”
    “Okay. Well are there questions you would like to ask?”
    “There are,” Gwen admitted, and then hesitated for another instant. “But they’re not about BDSM exactly – they’re about you. Is that okay?”
    I froze. For a moment there was nothing but dead air. April looked up from her keyboard and shot me a withering glare. “Say something!” she mimed.
    “It… it might be okay, Gwen. That depends on the questions,” I began cautiously. “I’m not going to share aspects of my personal life on the radio – that’s not what I’m here to do. I’m here to help answer general questions about BDSM, sex and submission. But… ask your first question,” I felt myself wincing, “and I’ll see if I feel comfortable