Chapter 43: At the Station - A Sense of Loss

For the second time that morning, Locke splashed cold water on her face. For the second time, it did no good.

Her hands were shaking; but she was not cold, nor frightened, not nervous nor weak. She stood upright, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Another.

While she still felt a little disoriented – kind of a not-quite vertigo – if she had to put her finger on it, she'd equate this feeling with waking up from a long nap.

"Wow," she exhaled. Locke, as she studied her pretty face in the mirror, had no way of knowing or keeping track, but she'd been enthralled by Neely over half of her life. She was 14 when a red-headed woman she did not know approached her somewhere near her home and changed Locke from a typical teenager to a compliant, dedicated single-minded young woman who would be bound to her new mistress,

Locke did not remember her parents, or her home, much less what freedom felt like. But right here, right now, this felt like freedom.

Even after Jackie and Scottie's touch she'd kept her composure and did her job; she was able to direct Neely without making a scene. But the thrill she felt between her legs when Neely came out to check her messages was something new, and different. The stunning blonde appreciated Locke because of her unconditional servitude, but Locke could think of all kinds of service she might request from the older woman.

Is this what arousal feels like? It's been so long... she wondered. She reached between her legs and yelped with the wonder of what her touch spawned.

Won't do that again, she thought.

Of course, she would.

Locke was used to sitting alone in the quiet of the outer suite; in fact, it was in her programming. But now, she was acutely aware of being alone and in need of something ... more.

She picked up her phone and punched three numbers.

"Are you too busy to come back here for a moment? Good. I really need to talk," Locke said hopefully.

Locke anxiously waited until she heard the tap, tap, tap of high heels coming down the long hall. And yes, she felt a small thrill between her legs – one that shot through the rest of her body when Scottie turned the corner.

"What's wrong? You sick?" Scottie asked, sitting on the side of her desk, stockinged leg an arm's length away.

"Something's wrong with me, babe," she said, brazenly placing her hand on her co-workers' thigh, enjoying the feel of the nylon as much as her toned leg.

"What do you think it is?" Scottie asked, knowing full well what it was and making no attempt to move.

"Sorting things out in my head," she replied, placing her other hand on Scottie's leg. "All these years I've been so loyal to Mistress ... to Neely ... was I under some command the whole time? Some kind of compulsion?"

"Yeah, you were her slave," Scottie shrugged. "Seems kinda obvious now, doesn't it?"

"If it's any consolation to you, I had nothing to do with it," Neely said from the doorway, startling the younger women. "You were part of a tradition that has been around longer than either of us. You were, to be frank, a gift to me that I gratefully accepted and have cherished since that day."

Scottie reached over and moved a lock of hair out of Locke's face.

"And now Jackie and I broke it," Scottie said softly. "We broke Neely's gift. We broke you."

"No, that you didn't do," Locke said quickly. "No, I'm not broken. I don't know that I'm fixed, but I do know that I've been changed."

"And I would like to know how you girls pulled that off," Neely said, arms folded. Her breasts cried out to both women to be freed despite her conservative suit.

"I'm not the one to talk to," Scottie said, who was surprised that she did not feel the usual intimidation that Neely always generated. "Jackie touched me this morning and rocked my world. I'm kinda hers now."

"You work for her, anyway," Locke said, puzzled.

"Yeah, but our relationship is now a lot like yours and Neely's was," Scottie shrugged. "She's made it clear I'm gonna be her sex slave. But it's cool."

Locke and Neely exchanged glances. Servicing Neely, unreciprocated, was a big part of Locke's job description from the beginning. But Neely's strong desire for privacy had successfully covered it up. Neely reached up and rubbed her arm where Jackie touched her.

"I'm feeling something," Locke addressed her boss. "I want her. Want Scottie. I need release."

"I understand," Neely said, turning and going through the double doors. The remaining women heard her footsteps fade as she tap, tap, tapped down the hall.

Scottie slid off the desk.

"You do need release. We've got that prescription," she said, rolling Locke's chair back from her desk and kneeling in front of her. "Ooh! You're so wet down there, Locke! Why are you still wearing those soaking wet panties?"

Locke hid her blushing face with both hands, but spread her legs wider. She raised her ass enough for Scottie to tug down her underwear past her thighs and knees and down her legs. Scottie's green eyes seemed incandescent to her co-worker and up-until-now distant friend. And Scottie did not so much as blink, watching her friend with them wide open as she slid her tongue into Locke's long-neglected cunt.

All the way down at the other end of the hall, Neely heard her companion and protector scream out an orgasm that surely rattled the windows on the executive wing.

Neely returned to the newsroom to find Jackie caressing the ample and very exposed chest of her anchorwoman, Aimee. She was all over her with her hands and mouth, and with each skin-on-skin contact sealing the bond all the more.

"Jackie, what are you dong to us?" Neely asked without rancor; she'd seen this kind of thing before, up close. "You actually hurt me earlier today."

"I did? How?" Jackie immediately stopped massaging Aimee, who in her post-orgasmic bliss was pretty much wasted, anyway. The anchor merely looked at her boss through heavy-lidded eyes.

"I have ... what might be called a 'pre-existing condition, '" Neely said. "My ... mistress, the woman who got me out of Chechnya, took control of my life as a young girl and made me the woman, the rich and powerful woman, that I am today."

"What was her name? Where is she?" Jackie asked, rolling her chair up close but stopping short of touching her.

"She's gone. Her name doesn't matter," Neely said sadly, shaking her head. She sat silently on the edge of a desk for several moments, head down. Suddenly, she raised her head.

"Cassandra. Cassandra Dvorkin," she said, no further elaboration needed. Damn right it mattered.

"She was a politician, right?" Jackie, well-schooled on world events, asked. She looked over at Aimee, who shook her head in uncertainty.

"Wife of one," Neely corrected. "That is, before he became a terrorist."

Suddenly weary, she stunning blonde almost seemed to diminish before Jackie's eyes. She walked over to a comfortable chair and sat down, looking off in the distance and drumming her fingers on the desktop as her mind went to another place and time. Jackie remained silent, hanging on every word of this long-suppressed story.

Even Aimee was back among the living, even though she seemed indifferent to the fact she was still naked.

"She was so beautiful, her red hair made me warm just to look at it," Neely began. "I was a child when she took me off the street and made me a woman."

"How far apart were your ages?" Aimee asked.

"I never cared to ask," Neely said. "For a long time, we never talked about much of anything. That's one reason he never about us, as far as I could tell. Whenever he left, which was often, Cassandra would have me at her side – in bed, at functions, at the capital media center where I learned this job at her urging. She was in love with the truth – which was why we fled Chechnya after her husband took part in that horrible hospital siege across the border in Russia. He did not survive it, and neither did the uprising after that."

"How did you get out?" Jackie asked, totally engrossed.

"Not that hard. State media rep and her aide," Neely smiled. "We were in New York meeting Katie Couric the day the assault collapsed. With her husband dead and in disgrace, she actually applied for asylum that day and even changed hers and my names legally. There was no going back."

"What happened to her?" Aimee asked, stretching her arms and tweaking her own nipples as she came around further.

"Breast cancer. Not too sexy or dramatic," Neely said with a sad smile. "Such beautiful, perfect breasts and they were a ticking time bomb. When she realized she was dying, she revealed her ability to me, and how it had made our journey so much easier. But I learned that I'd actually been her slave the whole time, but I loved her and she, me.

"She told me she would find a tough, brilliant woman like me and make sure she would defend me to the death. And I never asked where she found her, but suddenly there was Locke. And Locke can't remember."

"The rest you did yourself," Jackie said.

"Damn right," Neely said. "You aren't trying to take that away, are you, like you did Locke?"

"No! God no! I admire the hell out of you," Jackie protested. "This is all about unity and self-reliance."

Jackie stood up and pulled off her blouse and slid her skirt to the floor. She looked every bit the college cheerleader she was two decades ago.

"I knew it!" Neely shouted triumphantly. "I knew you were looking younger! You have the body of a 25-year-old again," Neely exclaimed.

"More like 21. It's a side benefit," Jackie admitted. "Please embrace me and Aimee. You'll soon be able to enjoy it, too. As good as I look now, I feel 10 times better. Something about our metabolism gets turned upside down by this."

Aimee stood up behind Jackie and slid her arms around her waist in an erotic cuddle.

"God, you do look awesome," Aimee said as Jackie slid her hands up and down Aimee's toned legs. Neely knew that neither of her employees had ever looked sexier, clothed or not. But she stopped Jackie short.

"This came from Meredith, didn't it?" she asked. Jackie nodded.

"I have been under Cassandra's control for three decades," Neely said. "I will wait for your daughter and we will bond."

"I understand," Jackie said.

"How about, in the meantime, we remember we're a fucking television station and get your daughter's story on the air?" Neely, suddenly in charge once again, turned on her heel and returned to her office. Aimee looked at Jackie and sighed, taking her into one more embrace. "And throw on a few clothes, dammit!"

Jackie wanted, maybe even needed, a taste of Aimee's previously heterosexual cunt one more time, and sat the anchor on the edge of her own desk and burrowed her face into her surprisingly hirsute snatch with renewed vigor.

This was the sight that greeted Milton Sayers when he returned from his PR visit. No one heard him come in, so he silently watched Jackie and Aimee caress one another for several minutes before he slipped out silently and left the station forever. His resignation letter surprised Neely when it arrived in her e-mail a couple of hours later.

The KCAR news van pulled smoothly into its reserved spot outside the station. Its driver, the multi-talented cameraman everyone called Mack, had a deeply personal reason to make sure it was a smooth end to the trip; he was now able to add parking while receiving head to his list of abilities.

Some 30 seconds later, he was able to cum, and his seducer – reporter Darren McCarver – swallowed his load without damage.

"Driving that well while being blown is quite a skill," Darren said, licking her lips.

"You call it skill. I call it fear," he said. "If I hit a bump, a pothole, or God forbid another vehicle, then my load would not have been the only thing you'd swallow."

Even as they talked, they straightened out disheveled clothing so as to present the professional front when they entered the station proper and the newsroom. Mack held the valuable video discs in his hand.

"I'll have the footage edited and ready to go when you tell me you're ready to go," he said. "You and she looked awesome together."

"Did I look professional enough?" Darren, the hardened reporter, asked.

"Right up to the moment that you let her kiss you," Mack said. "Her groping your crotch was a little bit unfortunate, too."

"Not just groping it," Darren sighed, looking off in the distance at nothing. "Right inside my jeans, inside me. She had such tiny hands..."

"We should all have such misfortune," he agreed. "So, are you turning lesbo on me?"

A week ago, it would have been a preposterous question as Mack well knew. When it was met with silence, he had a true oh, shit moment. "Hey, D.M., anyone who can suck like you just did ain't no dyke."

"Thanks, Mack," she said, surprisingly calm. "That's actually reassuring."

Darren checked herself out before stepping into the big room. She looked fine, normal, but this was not that. Two steps inside the door, she saw Scottie busily typing at her computer without a stitch of clothing.

"Darren! Hey, Darren's here!" she called out while picking up the phone. Looking back over her shoulder at Scottie's perky tits, she failed to notice an equally nude Jackie step out of her office.

"Good! You're here," Jackie said casually.

"Yes, boss. I ... oh, God, you too?" Darren gasped. "When I saw Meredith and Renee, I wondered..."

"Wonder no more, you hot fucking Amazon you," Jackie kissed her lightly on the lips, then grabbed a binder and began heading towards one of the studio conference rooms. Darren could not move, stunned, as she watched Jackie's amazingly firm ass walk away from her.

"I'm coming," Darren belatedly said, hurrying to join her.

"You have no idea," Jackie said, holding the door to the soundproof room for her.

Aimee, who'd long since learned to do her own hair and makeup, was alone in the mirrored room applying powder to her cheeks, boobs and shoulders as well as her forehead. In the time since Jackie slid her expensive Victoria's Secret bra off her well-maintained boobs, Aimee could not imagine herself any other way. That she'd be the first naked anchor not on the Internet got her hot and nervous.

"Mack and Darren are here," Scottie said, sticking her head in the door. "Mack's already in production ... whoa, girl. You will be viral by dinnertime if that's your outfit tonight – and I mean that as a complement."

"I look ready for prime time?" Aimee asked, making a point to jiggle her tits for her audience of one.

"You going to be sitting down?" Scottie asked, frowning.

"Yeah, probably – no, I can't. I'm talking to Darren live on camera," her eyes went wide. "Is she naked?"

"Give her time," Scottie nodded. "But the point I was making, is are you going on camera as Jungle Girl down there?"

Both looked down at Aimee's full bush.

"Oh, God. I haven't trimmed it since September," she moaned. "You could make a sweater out of that."

"Don't worry. We've caught your wardrobe malfunction in time," Scottie said, reaching for a pair of scissors in one drawer, a can of shaving cream and a razor in another. – the one where Sayers kept his show prep. Scott then began running hot water. "I guarantee a shave and an orgasm in 10 minutes or less."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Aimee said eagerly, sitting down in the makeup chair, legs straddling the armrests.

"Nope. Not that way," Scottie shook her head. "On your back, head dangling over the seat, legs splayed. Now make a V."

"I can go you one better," Aimee grinned, assuming the position. "I can make a T."

Scottie was in mid-shave when Darren nervously put her head inside the door. Jackie had prepped her, stripped her and shaved the tall, bronzed blond in record time, so the Amazon nervously walked over to the chair where Aimee was propped in an utterly compromising position and surveyed Scottie's work.

"Smooth. Beautiful," she said. "I can't wait to taste her."

"Let me clear the stubble and the soapy cream and she's all yours," Scottie said. Aimee said nothing, but reached up and placed a couple of fingers up inside the PA's soaking wet cunt as Scottie used a hot towel to wipe her clean.

"All yours," she said. "But no 69'ing until after the broadcast. I laid her so her hair would not be mussed. Aimee smoothly slid back around to upright and she and Darren began checking one another out with their eyes and their fingertips. They both looked at Scottie, who was suddenly in charge.

"Go ahead. Frig each other all day long," she sighed, throwing up her hands and exiting the room. She was back at her desk, fielding an important phone call when Tamara returned from the orgy at Applebee's hot, horny and running terribly late.

Scottie silently mouthed "Walt" since she was restricted to nothing more than an occasional "Uh. huh ... Yeah ... Uh-huh," then: "Sure!" After a few more silent moments, she hung up.

"What did our randy old Walter want?" Tamara asked, sitting provocatively on the edge of Scottie's desk. Scottie, still naked, answered by sliding her hand up Tamara's leg until she found the Brit's dripping honey hole.

"He wanted to know if it was OK to do tonight's 6:00 sportscast from the golf course?" she giggled.

"Heh. I heard your answer," Tamara moaned as she spread her legs wider. "Since when did you to be the decision-maker around here?"

"Since we all got together here same as you did there," Jackie said, stepping out of her office with a production log, all business and all undressed. "So Renee did a good job?"

"It was her? Hell yes, she did," Tamara purred as Scottie thumbed her clit. "Best. Lunch. Ever."

Jackie stood before her peer and co-worker and kissed her wetly. She held the kiss through Tamara's orgasm as Scottie added tongue to the equation.