Table Of ContentTalk Dirty To Me
By
Stone Richards
Trent Barlow is a businessman. Over the past few years he has amassed six businesses—one, he has to
keep secret. Phil Johnson is Trent's right hand man. He has been with him since the beginning— yet they
hardly know each other—until Trent bids on a permanent place to house his secret business and starts
receiving anonymous phone calls. The voice is husky, erotic and offers to fulfill his wildest fantasy. Has
word of his secret business leaked out? Is Trent a victim of his own deception? Or has an admirer simply
chosen to tease him?
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Talk Dirty To Me Copyright © 2010 Stone Richards ISBN: 978-1-55487-587-0 Cover art by Angela Waters
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Talk Dirty To Me
By
Stone Richards
Dedication To Jay
Chapter 1
Trent Barlow hung up the phone and rubbed the back of his neck. His proposal to purchase the old
Holloway building on Seventh Avenue was finally on the city council agenda. He picked up a pen and
wrote a note about the meeting at seven o'clock. He would have to be present to make his bid for the
structure. In the past, the board usually set aside a written offer because the bidder had not shown up
to argue his case. This time, he would make damn certain he was at the meeting and armed with every
conceivable reason why the city should sell him the property.
Monroe, Wisconsin was an average size city, with promise for new development along its western
boundary. The Holloway building sat on the corner of a lot that had already taken on new development.
Trent had learned of the building going on the market only two weeks before it became public
knowledge. It was an opportunity he had been waiting for. And one he hoped would pan out. If plans
went as scheduled, he could profit quite nicely from the venture.
He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the corner of the desk, clasping his hands behind his
head. The future of Barlow Enterprises held lots of promise—if he was lucky enough to acquire the
building from the city. It would need extensive renovation, but then he could move his six small
businesses under one roof. The amount of money he could save on rent for one year would almost
cover the cost of the property. If the fucking city council doesn't try to cheat me.
He had his share of run-ins with the council over the years. When he opened his first business, an adult
lingerie shop, the members tried to shut him down, claiming the business was too risqué for the city.
Several thousand dollars later, and threats to sue the city over his rights to free enterprise, the council
withdrew their allegations.
Trent considered whether to take Bill Meeks with him. He scratched his head. As soon as he and the
attorney walked into the meeting, chances were, the council members would resent his inference that
he might have to argue with them and dismiss his bid altogether. He shook his head. No, he would
attend the meeting alone and hope for the best. He would make it a special point to be courteous and
smile a lot.
He chuckled. Hell, everybody in Monroe knew he and the council fought over just about everything.
Every time he opened a new business, he had to argue to get permits and inspections. Well, except for
the time when he opened The Goodtime Bar. The city had been in a financial dilemma, needing tax
money to foot the new baseball stadium, and issued him a license without much bullshit. Considering
the taxes on the bar were double what it was on his other businesses, the city should be grateful as hell
that he opened the bar in their city instead of crossing the boundary into neighboring Summerset.
At twenty-eight he thought he was quite successful. Since he was fifteen, he had wanted to be a
businessman. At twenty, he opened his first business, a small shop near the ballpark that sold souvenirs.
Granted, it was seasonal, but it whet his appetite for bigger things. As he studied the local economy, he
soon noticed that movies with R ratings at the theater sold out faster than those that were deemed PG
or G. He began to investigate the possibility of opening an adult mega center and soon found himself at
odds with the city council again. He sighed and looked toward the glass in the office door. Phil Johnson
passed down the hallway and disappeared through the doorway of the supply room.
Phil was the manager of his latest accomplishment—a phone sex business that was proving quite
lucrative. He smiled. Once he acquired the nine-hundred phone number, and hired a handful of husky
voiced females, the business was off to a fantastic start. Within three months, he was advertising across
the country and receiving calls from overseas. He cocked his head. Sometimes he didn't understand the
attraction of having someone talk dirty in your ear over a phone line. The first month's tally nearly
floored him. He hired two more operators and started advertising on the Internet. Phil was a good asset
to the business. He kept track of the employees, the expenses, and was constantly looking for ways to
expand.
Trent stared through the door. Phil stepped into his sight again, walking toward the room where the
operators worked. He levered his feet off the desk and rose from his chair. It was almost lunchtime. If he
invited Phil to join him, he could bounce a few ideas off him for his next venture. He checked his watch,
then remembered he was supposed to meet Ron for dinner. Ron Widman was a private detective. He
had only known him a few months but found him willing and attractive. "Damn. I can't be in two places
at the same time." He reversed his steps and sat down at the desk. He dialed Ron's private cell number
and waited for him to pick up. "He's probably in a meeting." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and
drummed his fingers on the desktop. He would rather fuck Ron than meet with the council, but given
the circumstances, he had little choice. He had to attend the council meeting and convince the members
that he should be the one to purchase the old Holloway building.
Ron's voice mail picked up and Trent explained his circumstances about their date that evening. "Sorry.
You know I'd rather spend the evening with you than the council, but I have to put business first
tonight." He hung up and retuned his thoughts to lunch.
Chapter 2
Phil sat across from Trent and sipped his cola. He was tall and thin, with dark brown hair that grazed his
shirt collar. He was twenty-six years old and single. Though Trent suspected he was gay, he had yet to
see proof, that is, he hadn't seen him with a man, or confided in him about any liaison. Not that he
might, but there were plenty of opportunities to speak of his personal life, since Trent saw him most
every day.
"Are you expecting a hard time from the council tonight?" Phil asked, staring across the table at Trent.
Trent nodded. "I suspect they will be out for blood. Since the last time I attended a meeting, I've
managed to ruffle their feathers over the adult store."
"I'd forgotten. Well, they know you come through with the tax dollars. If they want to add to their
revenue, they'll sell the old Holloway building to you." He smiled, displaying the tiny dimple in his left
cheek. "You're not apt to get any tax breaks from the bastards though."
Trent chuckled. "I know. They don't relish the idea of me owning a piece of property so close to their
precious downtown businesses. They think my enterprises might taint their family-oriented shops."
Phil laughed and signaled the waitress for another drink. "If they only knew about the phone sex
business, every jackass on the board would have strokes. Hell, that's one business that has steady
growth."
"Well, as long as we keep it hidden from public scrutiny, they're not likely to bitch about it."
"If you move it into the Holloway building, they will inspect for sure, Trent. The cat will be out of the
bag."
"I'll use the same tactic I used to open the business."
"Yeah, the operators like to think of themselves as telemarketers."
Trent shrugged. "In a way, they are."
"Yeah, they take sex surveys."
"Whatever it takes," Trent said, smiling. "Once I get my hands on that piece of property, I want you to
find a reliable construction company and start renovations. I want to be moved in by the end of the
year."
Phil nodded. "I understand."
The waitress arrived with their lunch and they ate in silence. When they were finished, they walked back
to the office building.
"You should drop by the work room and listen to the two new women I hired," Phil said, shaking his
head. "Millie has the filthiest mouth I've ever heard. I heard her tell one caller that she was in the buff
sitting by the fireplace and was thinking about him while she fucked herself with the phone receiver."
Trent chuckled. "That one really has an imagination."
"They all have imaginations, Trent. You just don't spend enough time in the room with them."
Trent turned curious eyes on Phil. "Have you dated any of them?"
Phil shook his head.
"Any one of them might make you happy— since they spend eight hours a day talking about sex. I bet
everyone goes home turned on and if they don't have a cock waiting for them, they have to masturbate.
You could fill the need, buddy."
"They have toys, Trent." Phil stepped into the elevator and poked the button for the top floor. "Besides,
I never date women."
Realization flickered through Trent. He slid his gaze toward Phil and observed his wellproportioned
body. That was the first hint he ever divulged that made him wonder about his sexuality. He thought
about coaxing more from him, but decided he might think he was prying. He had too much respect for
him to risk offending him. I'll find out in good time.
Trent returned to his office and began assembling the documents he would need to present to the
council. Hoping for approval before the meeting ended, he found the number for the bank and spoke
with the loan officer about the application he had filled out regarding financing. As he listened to the
baritone voice drone on in his ear, he fought the urge to cancel the deal. He had plenty of funds to
purchase the property outright, but it was good business practice to let another entity hold the deed for
the first year or so, just in case the business folded. It would be wiser to let the bank be stuck with the
property than to have to look for another buyer. Costs could escalate real fast when a property went on
the market.
With his loan application approved, Trent made notes for the council. How could they say no when he
had everything in order to take on the property? Derelict buildings were numerous throughout the city
and every one the city could unload was just beneficial to them. "Business is business," he mumbled,
stacking the sheath of papers in his briefcase. He glanced at his watch. He had just enough time to stop
by the bar and see how things were running. Wally Greenstreet, his trusty bartender and manager,
would be setting up for happy hour by the time he drove across town to the bar.
Leaving the office, Trent strolled past the long room where the sex operators worked. Two rows of
cubicles lined the outer walls with a wide walkway down the middle. He saw Phil standing about part-
way down the aisle, his arms folded across his chest, and a smile on his face. Trent smiled and nodded at
Phil when he glanced toward the open doorway. The assortment of voices mingled, making it nearly
impossible to tell which operator was speaking over the other. Women dressed in sweats and tennis
shoes sat slumped in padded chairs, headsets with microphones across their ears. Some looked almost
bored. And others appeared aroused. He watched one Rubenesque female set one heel on the desktop
and thrust her hand in her crotch.
Trent laughed and continued on down the hallway. The sooner he got to the bar, the sooner he could
have a drink.
Chapter 3
The Goodtime Bar was on the corner of Fifth and Elm, adjacent to a string of restaurants and only a few
blocks from the stadium. It drew a fair share of business from the sports venue, especially during the
warm months. Whenever the home team was winning, the patrons increased. Wally always held
drawings and contests for the customers, arousing their interest in the local team and enticing them to
become regulars. During each month in the summer, a cash prize was awarded to the patron who
guessed most accurately at the game scores.
Trent pushed through the door and paused, looking over the assortment of late afternoon customers.
The booths in the back and half the bar stools were filled. He walked to the far end of the bar and
straddled a stool, turning his gaze on Wally as he came from the small kitchenette at the back of the
building. He carried a tray of burgers and went to one of the booths. Trent tipped his nose. The
fragrance of onions and grilled beef mingled deliciously with the aromas of beer and cigarettes.
Wally returned to the bar and nodded at Trent. He went to the cooler without asking Trent if he wanted
a drink. Returning with a bottle of beer, he set it before Trent.
"Thanks," Trent muttered, picking up the bottle. He took a sip, noted the chill of the brew and smiled at
Wally. "How's business today?"
Wally shrugged. "Not bad for Wednesday." He smiled and leaned toward Trent. "How's business on the
top floor?"
Trent chuckled and winked. "It's good." He glanced over his shoulder, just making sure none of the
customers were close enough to overhear their conversation. So far they had managed to keep the
phone sex business secret, and he wanted to keep it that way. He lifted the beer bottle and took a long
drink.
"You're early," Wally remarked, gesturing toward the clock hanging at the back of the bar.
"I needed a drink before I faced the city council," Trent replied, smiling. He drained the beer bottle.
"Sometimes, I find courage in a bottle."
Wally laughed. "Hell, the city council is no match for you. You're smarter than the whole lot." He shook
his head. "There isn't a businessman in this city that has more going for him. I'll wager a beer you'll
convince the board in an hour."
"I'll take that bet." He rose from the stool and strode to the door. In fifteen minutes the board would
meet and start going over their agenda. He wanted to be seated in the front row of the galley when they
scanned through the business for the evening. Chances were, when they saw him, he would get the first
opportunity to make his sales pitch.
The city building was abuzz with activity when Trent walked into the main foyer. The double doors to
the council chamber were open and he could see several members all ready seated at the circular table
in the front of the room. He squared his shoulders and stepped through the doorway, his gaze on Mayor
Billings. They had words in the past, but tonight Trent would do his best to salve any ruffled feelings he
might have left unresolved. Unless he pisses me off early in the game.
Mayor Ralph Billings was a big man with a potbelly and bushy gray sideburns. He was father of three
grown sons, each with businesses in the city. He sat on the police board and the ambulance district
board, and recently announced he would run for a position on the fire department board, just as soon as
Leonard Harper took his retirement and vacated the seat. He aimed an assessing gaze across the room
at Trent as he walked to the front row of seats.
Trent met the mayor's gaze and nodded in greeting. He took a seat in the front row and brought his gaze
to the board members seated at the table. Three were present, Marty Bishop, Tom Shilling, and Larry
Mitchell. Marty was a carpenter and owned Bishop Construction. Tom was a painter by profession,
though he had no business in his name. He usually relied on the contractors in the city to bring him
work. Larry was an optician, with an office in one of the new buildings downtown. He wore thick glasses
and often reminded Trent of an owl when he looked directly at him. He smiled, pulling his gaze away as
Councilman Les Malloy joined the gathering. Les was a retired policeman, though on occasion he still
acted like he wore a badge. Trent checked his watch.
The mayor called the meeting to order and Trent straightened the knot in his tie. It looks like there will
only be five members of the board to deal with tonight. He smiled slightly and reached for his briefcase
sitting at his feet. Since Mayor Billings had all ready noted that he was in attendance, chances were he
would be first on the agenda, if for no other reason than to get rid of him. That's fine with me.
The minutes of the last meeting were read and approved. Trent noted a few things that might be of
interest to his business in the minutes. Perhaps he should start attending the monthly meetings just to
keep on top of things. Two additional liquor licenses had been issued and that meant competition for
The Goodtime Bar. He would make a note to ask Wally if he knew of the new businesses and then tell
him to step up promotions, just in case some of their regulars might be curious enough to patronize the
new place.
"Mr. Barlow," Mayor Billings said.
Trent cocked his head and took the sheath of papers from his briefcase. "Good evening, Mayor, council."
"I see you have entered a bid for the Holloway building."
"Yes." He walked to the podium situated before the meeting table and placed his papers on the stand.
"As the council is aware, I have a number of businesses. It would be my intention to move several of
them into the building."
"You own a bar, don't you?" Marty asked, peering over his wire rim glasses.
"Yes. But I would not be moving the bar into the building," Trent clarified.
"The building is in need of repairs, Mr. Barlow. Renovations could take months and cost a small
fortune," Tom added.
"I realize that," Trent said. "And I have plans ready to be acted on, just as soon as I acquire the property.
I assure you, gentlemen, I will rehab the building according to code and in doing so, bring the property
up to the standard of the other buildings on the block."
"You have a construction company in mind for the remodeling?" Marty asked. He leaned forward in his
chair, staring at Trent.
"Possibly," Trent confided. He stifled a smirk. It was obvious Marty hoped he was considering his
construction company for the job. "I will open bids immediately following the purchase of the property."
So if you want a shot at the job, vote to sell me the property.
"We have another bid on the building," Mayor Billings announced. "But I don't believe the bidder is
present."
Surprise shot through Trent. He glanced around, noting the people seated behind him. He hadn't heard
any gossip about a possible other bidder. He set his jaw. He might have to adjust his figures for the
project. He aimed his gaze at Marty Bishop. And I might have to promise you the job just to get your
vote for the sale.
"If the other bidder is not here to argue the matter," Trent began. He held his written pledge of
financing from the bank up so the council members could see it. "I have a guaranteed loan for the
property." He left the podium and handed the papers to the mayor. "I'm prepared to sign papers
immediately and take possession within one week."
"I see no reason to debate the matter," Marty said, his gaze taking in the other members of the board. "I
vote to sell the building to Mr. Barlow and be done with it. You all know what a headache these empty
buildings are to the city. Vandals torch them just for the fun of it and the city doesn't collect a cent of tax
money on them."
"I agree," Tom added. "The police department complains all the time about having to patrol them. And
we have to pay to mow the grass during the warm months. The city could save a fair amount of money
just on upkeep."
"I say we take a vote," Mayor Billings said. "All in favor say aye."
Trent listened to the verbal vote and smiled.
"It's official then, Mr. Barlow," Mayor Billings announced. "The city officially accepts your bid for the
Holloway building. You have one week to settle the finances and take possession. There will be
restrictions on the businesses you house in the site, however." He stared at Trent, one eyebrow raised.
"The council would like a list of the businesses and the number of employees for each. I trust you will
abide by city ordinances and comply with all inspections."
"Yes, Mayor, of course." Trent nodded and smiled. "I'm prepared to cooperate fully with the board's
wishes." He shuffled the papers on the podium and took a pen from his coat pocket. He signed the letter
of agreement Bill Meeks prepared and handed it to the mayor. "I'll have my attorney arrange for a
meeting and I'll bring a check."
He released a long breath as he snapped the locks on his briefcase and left the meeting. As he pushed
through the door leading to the sidewalk, he quickened his steps. The sooner he put distance between
himself and the city council, the better. Luck is on my side. He strode to his car and slid behind the
steering wheel. "I can really use a drink now." He started the Cadillac and pulled out of the parking lot.
Thoughts of Ron entered his mind. He would be quitting work in about an hour— maybe they could get
together for a quick fuck.
With Ron, the sex was good, but lacking in intimacy. While Ron was agreeable and seemed to like to try
new things, he sensed he always had other things on his mind. Once, he had suggested they go away for
the weekend and Ron quickly informed him that he was too busy to leave town. His plans dashed, he
had stayed home and managed to see Ron for only two hours the entire weekend. They had sex, but
Ron left right away, leaving him feeling as though he was less important than a business deal. Or a
stakeout. He knew Ron did a lot of stakeouts for his clients. He confided once that most every wife in
Monroe thought her husband was cheating on her.
"Whatever works for business," Trent said and laughed.
