Read Dirty to Me

By Robert Lubrican

Ever heard of books on tape? Sure you have. Even if you've never heard one, you still know about them, and can imagine what they might be like.

Now imagine a book on tape that's basically porn.

Who reads that stuff out loud like that?

And what do they have to do to prepare for the next day's script?

Come along as May and December crash into each other in a recording studio, trying to make a little extra money by reading books onto tape.

And no ... they were not prepared for how it would affect them.

Warning: This book is erotica, plain and simple. It's all about sex and is not appropriate for those under the age of eighteen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Lubrican
• Release date: Jul 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465939739

Robert Lubrican

I grew up in the fifties and sixties, and that is reflected in my books quite often. I spent twenty years in law enforcement, and traveled the world, which also can be seen in my books and stories. While the genre I write in is technically called erotic romance, what I actually write are stories with a plot, which include sexual behavior on the part of the characters. That is because most people's lives include sex and erotic gratification. And, since most people wonder about lifestyles that are sometimes called taboo, or forbidden, I write about them, occasionally too. I believe that two consenting adults know more about their own happiness than anyone else, and that even if they are mistaken, they have the right to make their own choices. I also believe that love is the key to making choices that will not turn out to be mistakes.Many of my ideas involve coming of age, which usually takes place in the early to mid teens. Publishing standards, however, require that all characters in the published version of the book be over 18. That's not realistic, but it's just the way things are. If you purchase one of my books and would like to have the original version, unedited for age, send a copy of your receipt to [e-mail] and I'll happily provide you with a copy of the original at no additional cost. It is not illegal to write or possess such versions. It's just unpopular with certain special interest groups who desire to restrict your freedom.

Book preview

Read Dirty To Me

by Robert Lubrican

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Robert Lubrican

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to use cover art purchased from iStock.com

Foreword.

While the books I write are all intended for an adult audience, and are firmly in the genre of erotica, they rarely contain language as explicit as what is in this book. The reason for that is because this book is about part of the industry that produces pornography, and the language the characters use had to reflect that. More specifically, when the two characters are doing their jobs (reading a pornographic book onto tape) they will use language that many people might characterize as objectionable. But it's the language of porn, folks. It's down and dirty, because porn is down and dirty. This book, on the other hand, is not intended to be porn. It's intended to be a romance, an exploration of how two disparate people might fall in love with each other and find happiness together. Generally speaking, porn simply doesn't do that. But, when you're finished with the book, we can then have a conversation about whether the book itself descends into the category of porn. I'll put my email address at the end of the book, in case you want to talk about that.

Bob

******

Chapter One

It started quite innocently, really. He was a relatively conventional 53 year old man who had knocked around over quite a lot of the world, and she was a 23 year old part time rebel with a mohawk, tattoos and a child she hadn't planned on having.

What brought them together was complicated, but at the same time, quite simple.

That sounds like a strange sentence, but the key word is together, which has many levels of meaning. We can start with the simple side of things.

Their first togetherness was based on both of them applying for jobs reading books onto tape. It was just that simple. They both needed some extra income and applied for jobs at the same place, which offered both full and part time employment. He had a background in theater and a deep voice, which qualified him. She had the perfect voice for portraying innocence and youth that belied her chronological age.

When they first met he said, Hi. My name is Bob, holding out his hand to shake. Well sometimes. People call me lots of other things too.

He was like that. His thought processes ebbed and flowed constantly. He had a philosophical bent and enjoyed examining everything from just about every angle, even when it was as simple as, say, a pencil. If he'd been born a lion, he would have been sitting on the savannah, his eyes flickering from potential prey to potential prey, thinking Am I hungry enough to go for that ibis over there? Do I need to scratch that itch, or will it go away? I could use a drink of water right now. Where's that lioness I've been watching? I wonder if she's gone into heat yet. What just moved over there?

It wasn't that he was scatter brained. It was just that he wanted to see and do and experience and be part of everything possible, all at the same time. It was a quality that had allowed him to submerge himself into a dozen foreign cultures and fit right in while he watched and learned.

She'd been through the school of hard knocks, though, and was much more pragmatic about things.

Layla, she said.

His eyes lit up. What a beautiful name. It motivates me to wax poetic. I'm sure that's what they'll want when we read.

She examined him. He was muscular, but carried a bit of extra weight too. His eyes had that funny quality of looking blue one minute and green the next. He wasn't balding. In fact, the bushy beard springing from his chin and cheeks made her think of a loufa, for some reason. He was looking at her, which she was used to. Most men stared at her. Most people stared at her, for that matter. Her hair was a vermillion shade this week and the long mohawk it was cut into flopped to one side, drooping down to tickle her right eyebrow. She'd shaved the sides of her head before coming in for the interview.

She had expected the interviewer to take one look at her and tell her, Thanks, but no thanks. He hadn't. He'd simply said, Your voice is perfect for what we have in mind. You're hired. Be here on Tuesday at eight.

Now this Bob person was looking at her too, but again, his reaction wasn't what she was used to. This man ... this old guy ... this guy old enough to be her father, if not her grandfather, was looking at her like a man looks at a woman. He didn't seem to be at all ashamed to let his eyes flicker up and down her body. Yet, somehow, he didn't ogle her. He looked at her all over, but it was ... all over—not just at her girly parts. On impulse, she looked him all over too, staring at the front of his pants, where there was the inevitable bulge. It looked about like most other bulges she'd seen.

He looked about like most other men she’d seen.

I guess we're reading together, he said.

'Great,' she thought to herself. 'I'm saddled with one of those masters of pointing out the blindingly obvious.'

That attitude only lasted an hour. But much happened in that hour, before it changed.

They were led into a small room. The walls were covered with what looked like foam egg carton type material and the ceiling had those tiles with all the little holes in them. There were microphones hanging from the ceiling on moveable booms and stools to sit on. Layla and Bob were the only people in the room, but there was equipment for four or five. It was both bare and small. The man who had brought them there had a sheaf of papers in his hand. He extended a group of pages to each of them.

Here's the story we're starting with for you two, he said. This will just be a run through, to work out any kinks. When we get an actual take, we'll overlay the narrator's part and any sound effects during later production runs. Right now we just want you two to try to get the feel for things and see how it goes. Some people can do this and others can't. You never know until you try.

He smiled, but it was only with his mouth, his eyes indicating he'd given this speech dozens of times before. He went to one of the hanging microphones and pointed to a switch on the side. Slide this up when you’re ready. If you have to cough or anything like that, please turn the mike off before you do that. okay? He didn’t wait for anyone to say anything was okay. Either one of you can read the narrator’s part today, he said. It will be overlaid later, so the only parts that matter are your characters’ spoken lines.

Layla glanced at the heading on her stack: Adventures in Babysitting. The author's name was Lubrican. She had to look at it for a while to make sure it didn't say Lubricant. It didn't matter. Below that was a list of characters. Her character - she assumed she was the babysitter - was named Megan. Below that was a description that said:

Megan is a sixteen year old virgin, raised by a single mother. She is Rod Wilson's neighbor and has known him for many years. He fixed her bicycle when she was younger, and has done other neighborly things for her and her mother over the years. She likes him a lot. She has dated, but not any one boy seriously. She has been kissed a few times, but is otherwise innocent of things sexual.

Layla blinked. That sounded like a setup for something pornographic! She looked further down to see a bold line that read: Mister Wilson/Rod.

The description of him was: 35 year old man who is suddenly raising a three year old boy alone. His wife had a gambling problem and shoplifted to get money for the casinos. She was arrested recently and given three years in jail. He has watched Megan mature, both physically and emotionally, and has a finely tuned appreciation of her body. He is already sexually frustrated by the forced separation with his wife, who also confessed to having an affair with one of the men she owed money to. She blamed everything on Rod, and has said she intends to get a divorce while she's in jail.

She looked deeper into the pile. Words jumped up off the pages ... words like nipples, prick, and pussy.

"This is porn!" she yelped.

Bob was doing the same thing with his script.

It appears it is, he agreed. His voice was calm.

Layla looked around. She went over to a microphone and leaned her mouth up close to it.

"Hey!" she yelled.

Bob stepped over and slid the switch on the microphone to the ON position. Layla leaned even closer.

"Hey!"

They heard a muffled curse through the door, very faintly.

"This is pornography!!" she yelled.

The door opened and the nameless man came in.

Please don’t yell into the mike, he said. We have a script outside in the sound booth, and can make adjustments when we know a loud voice is coming up. You don’t have to yell. We can compensate for your normal voice.

This is a dirty story! said Layla, her voice level. She sounded dangerous somehow.

Yes, admitted the man. This is for our adult series.

"If I’d wanted to do phone sex, I would have applied for that