Going For It. Jo Leigh

a woman’s choice whether she wants to have sex or not, whether she’s married or not. It’s your body. Respect it. Take care of it. Give it a treat now and again. And if you don’t have anyone to help you, do it yourself, with or without help from toys. I’ll bet there are a lot of married women out there right now who wish they’d listened. Who waited to see if the man who seduced them was actually a man they wanted to live with forever. Given the dismal marriage statistics, I’m willing to wager that for at least fifty percent of the women, they didn’t look before they leaped.”

      Darlene felt those hairs stand on the back of her neck again. She had it. The perfect article. The perfect hook. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that no man, no matter who he is, can seduce a woman?”

      “That’s right. Not if a woman is honest.”

      “No amount of charm, charisma, sex appeal could have any effect?”

      “Not if a woman doesn’t want to be seduced. Have you ever looked up the word? I have. According to the dictionary, seduce means ‘to induce to have sexual intercourse.’ What I’m suggesting is the idea that no one can be induced. If it’s forced, then it’s rape. If it’s consensual, it’s not seduction. It’s an excuse, nothing more. No woman can be seduced without her permission. Period.”

      Darlene closed her eyes for a second, just to calm herself. “How would you like to put your money where your mouth is?”

      Jamie’s brows came down. “What do you mean?”

      “Exactly that. You say no woman can be seduced without her permission. I say fine. Prove it.”

      Jamie laughed a little. “There’s no way to do that. Every woman has to come to that decision for herself.”

      “But there is a way to prove it.” Darlene’s heart hammered in her chest. This was so great. “Here’s what I want to do. I’m going to set you up with a man who’s seduced his fair share of women. More than his share. You two are going to spend time together. He’s going to lay on the charm. And then we’ll see what happens.”

      “I’ll tell you exactly what will happen. Nothing.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “It’s ridiculous. There’s no way I can be seduced.”

      “You’re on. I think you don’t know what you’re talking about. And we’re going to see who’s right.”

      “Hey, yeah, Dr. Jamie,” Lorraine said, reminding Darlene that she was still on the line. “That would be so cool.”

      “What would be cool?”

      “Well, like, for you to show us. To prove it.”

      Darlene held back her whoop of joy. This was even better than she could have hoped for. “Right. Walk the walk instead of just talking the talk.”

      “Hold on.” Jamie looked at her with utter exasperation. Darlene didn’t give an inch. Jamie turned back to the mike. “Lorraine, I wish you luck with your guy, and thanks for calling.” She punched line two. “This is Dr. Jamie. Did you have a question?”

      “Yeah,” a deep baritone voice said. “I think you should do it. And I volunteer to be the guy. I could seduce you, baby. And it wouldn’t take no two weeks.”

      Darlene leaned back. This was great. Just great. The article would write itself.

      Jamie shook her head in disbelief as she pressed the next button. “How about line three. Pam from Chelsea?”

      “Come on, Dr. Jamie. You could report every night. You know, give us an update. A blow-by-blow. Tell us what it’s like out there in the real world. We could all learn something. You’re always telling us to go for it. Now it’s your turn.”

      “Thanks for sharing.” She punched the next button so hard it almost broke. “Debbi from Yonkers. Do you have something else you’d like to talk about?”

      “Uh, well, yeah.”

      Jamie’s shoulders relaxed. “Great.”

      “I think, you know, that you shouldn’t be the one to give the nightly reports. The guy should. Or you should do it together.”

      Jamie’s head fell into her hands. But then she sat up again. “This is Dr. Jamie, and we’re talking about sex. We’ll be back after these commercials.” Then she threw her headphones on the desk.

      Dr. Jamie wasn’t on such solid footing now. Darlene leaned back as she took off her own headphones. Her gaze went to the production booth and Marcy Davis. The woman wasn’t looking so smug, either. The two of them were Barbie dolls, and Darlene wanted to make them squirm. Marcy turned to look at the door as a man walked into the other booth. Perfect. It was Chase Newman, the inspiration for this adventure.

      He spoke to the board operator for a moment, then he turned so she could see his face. Good God, he was stunning. Fabulous jaw, dark brows over smoky, intense eyes. Just the right amount of five-o’-clock shadow. Now, he was an expert on sex. There was no question the man was a maestro in the bedroom. Those lips alone could send any woman over the edge.

      She was a freakin’ genius. This was perfect. Dr. Jamie didn’t stand a chance. And wouldn’t it be fun when all of New York watched her fall on her perky little ass. He just had to be willing to play along. Darlene would make sure he was willing.

      JAMIE TRIED to smile at Whittaker, but she couldn’t. She wanted the reporter gone, the interview finished, her show over, and this nonsense dismissed. Where was Marcy? She should be riding to the rescue, dammit.

      Whittaker did her a favor and left the room. At least Jamie could be grateful for that. But where was Marcy? Jamie’s program was going up in smoke, and Marcy had decided to take a brief vacation. Jamie was going to have to kill her. In the meantime, though, she’d better get ready to sway this conversation another way. This was her show, dammit, not Darlene’s.

      Damn! Cujo’s signal to her was desperate. She had no idea how long she’d been stewing. “Welcome back. This is Dr. Jamie Hampton, and we’re here with Darlene Whittaker from Vanity Fair. Let’s talk about your lives. Is there a question about your body you’ve always wanted to ask? How about sex? Come on, guys. Masturbation. Cross-dressing. G-spots. Don’t be embarrassed.”

      All the lines were blinking, but according to Jamie’s computer, Gabby Fisher was on line one. God bless her little neurotic heart. Gabby was a regular, and she wasn’t shy about taking air time. She’d fill up a good ten minutes. Just as Jamie was about to press the button, Whittaker struggled through the door and hurried to her seat.

      Jamie shoved the button down, terrified by the gleam in Whittaker’s eyes. “Gabby, hi.”

      “Hi, Dr. Jamie.”

      “What can I do for you tonight?”

      “I think it would be great to have you show us, you know, how to be strong with a man.”

      Jamie cursed silently. This wasn’t going to go away. “You already know how to be strong. You don’t need me to show you.”

      “I might know how,” Gabby said, her voice dejected, “but it never works out that way. I guess I’m just not like you.”

      “You can be whatever you want to be, Gabby. You just need to shift your beliefs about yourself. A stunt like this isn’t going to show you anything.”

      Whittaker moved her chair closer to the desk. “Are you afraid, Dr. Jamie?”

      “No, not at all. But my expertise is in helping others. This isn’t about me.”

      “But don’t you think it should be?”

      “What, so all surgeons should remove their own gall-bladders, just for the experience?” Gabby laughed.

      Whittaker didn’t. “I think you’re hiding behind that title, Jamie. I think you