"... and still the fighting goes on."

Dan gave the camera his best somber stare until the red light blinked off. Then, as had become his habit recently, he quickly rolled his chair back a few feet. It looked, he hoped, like just a little relaxation between segments. It was, however, really a chance to get a better look at Connie's lovely legs, unfortunately hidden from his view at the anchor desk. It still rankled a little that the bosses had forced a co-anchor on him, and he didn't think much of Connie's journalistic abilities. But he had to admit she was quite a looker. There was enough to look at for three eyes with good stuff left over for a fourth, as folks back home in Texas might say. Connie Chung was one good hunk of woman.

She had a perfect face, of course, with that incredibly smooth, ageless skin that seems to be the particular gift of Asian women. And Dan had always loved the Asian look of a thick head of black hair; you wanted to bury yourself in it and not come out 'til winter. She had a very nice body, too -- bigger breasts even than most Occidentals, and a thin waist. But what he admired most were her legs -- legs with perfect curves, legs that went on forever, legs that made you want to climb right in between them and... his eyebrows rose slightly and he pulled them back down as he realized Connie was talking to him.

"So then Dave asked me about... I'm sorry, Dan, was I interrupting a thought?"

He waved off her apology. "No, I'm sorry, I was just daydreaming. You were saying something about... Dave?"

"Letterman, Dan. I was on his show today, remember? And he was asking me about Maury and... and, you know, the baby. Anyway, I was saying that I'll have to watch the show tonight to see what I said. I really don't remember. I must have made some kind of joke, because I do remember Dave laughing. But I can't think of what it was, because inside I was so upset. Just before I went on, I got a call..."

The floor director's hand gesture snapped them both back to their places.

"... but the president will have the last word, his advisers say."

Again Dan slid back. This time he was paying attention as Connie turned toward him.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. I had just gotten a call from one of our doctors. The tests were negative again. Poor Maury. He tries so hard, he's gone through so many procedures -- well, we both have, I guess -- but nothing works. And he blames himself. Does that seem fair? It's not his fault that his sperm aren't fast enough or strong enough or just plain enough, is it? How would you feel, Dan? If it were you, I mean?"

Dan's eyebrows rose sharply as he searched for an answer. He wasn't used to people asking him about his sperm, especially not sexy co-anchors. Having a woman in the newsroom really was a mixed blessing, he thought. He mumbled something non- committal and sighed inwardly when the floor director's hand signals wig-wagged again.

This time Dan barely got out his closing words before Connie started talking again; he was half afraid they'd go out over the air.

"If it was your sperm, Dan, how would you feel?"

"I... uh... I guess I don't know, Connie. I never really had any problems in that... that area, myself."

"No? Not ever?"

Dan tried to picture having this conversation with Walter Cronkite, say, or Brokaw, or Safer. Well, maybe with Safer. But probably it wouldn't have given him an erection like the one he now realized was throbbing in his pants. He tried to ignore it and give Connie some kind of answer.

"Never. I guess I just got good genes." He flashed a smile. "At least no one's ever complained."

"Oh, well, as far as that goes, Maury's very good," Connie said, leaning close and beginning to speak in a whisper. "In bed, I mean. There's no problem with his equipment. It's just his sperm that can't do it."

Dan stood up, getting a whiff of her perfume as he did. "Right, well, then. None of that's been a problem for me. Either... area. So, good show tonight, don't you think?"

"What? Oh, I guess so." Connie stood up too and followed him off the set. As they entered the hallway to their dressing rooms, she put a hand on his shoulder. He felt his cock twitch.

"Dan, could we talk about this a little more? I've got some Cokes and waters in the fridge in my dressing room. I just need someone to talk to. OK?"

"All right," Dan said, surprising himself. Now what have I gotten myself into?, he asked himself as he stepped inside. What are we going to talk about next, her periods? Her favorite tampon? He shuddered at the thought.

But he sat down on the black leather couch -- noting to himself that he'd only gotten a cloth one; he'd have to talk to his agent about that -- and tried to look interested. After hearing more about how Maury's sperm couldn't beat a one-legged man in a cat-kicking contest, Dan was adding boredom to his discomfort. He tried to cut off her tale of woe.

"Look, why don't you just forget all this and adopt a kid? Lots of people do."

"I know, but somehow... well, I just want to have the experience of having carried the child myself. Maybe that's selfish..."

Darn right, Dan thought to himself.

"... but that's just how I feel. And I know what you're going to say next, too: Why didn't we go to a sperm bank? Well, Maury might be willing to do that -- but I'd hate to think what the papers would make of it if they ever found out. And I just don't believe we could keep it a secret. You know how many people recognize us on the street, Dan. Imagine what would happen if I tried to walk into a sperm bank. The stories about how Maury couldn't do his duty. He'd be mortified."

In spite of himself, Dan was actually beginning to feel a little sorry for Connie. She was acting like a spoiled brat, insisting that everything work out perfectly. But he saw a few tears running down her smooth cheeks; she really wanted a baby. It was her own fault that she wouldn't try the alternatives, but still, it was a tough break.

"Look, Connie," he said, "I don't know what I can do for you. I'm not much good at this kind of talk. But I do want you to know I feel sorry for you. I hope you and Maury can figure a way to have that baby."

Connie, whose head had been hanging down as she sat on the edge of her desk, lifted her eyes.

"I'm so glad you said that! Do you mean it? Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude. What I mean is, would you be willing to help?"

"Help? I don't know what you mean."

Connie giggled as she slipped off the desk and took a step toward him. "Oh, sure you do. Come on, Dan, I've seen you looking at my legs. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Dan blushed through his makeup while his mind raced to catch up.

"Don't be embarrassed, Dan," Connie went on. "I appreciate it when a man admires my legs. They are good, aren't they?" She lifted the hem of her skirt almost to her crotch, giving him a full view of the legs encased in sheer black hose. Dan's cock sprang to attention and prodded at his zipper. Down-home metaphors eluded him. He could only stare.

Connie let the skirt fall back down as she took another step toward him. "I... I'm not sure how to ask you this, Dan," she said. "But I... I mean we... Maury and I... we really want a baby. And Maury can't help. And he's too proud adopt, and I'm... well, I guess I'm too vain. But we want that baby. And Maury doesn't have to know."

Dan felt as if he were in some kind of bizarre movie. As he watched, Connie reached up and began undoing the silver buttons of her white silk blouse. As it fell away from her body, he saw her large, round breasts bulging out of her lacy white bra. He suddenly realized his lips were dry, and he licked them. Connie smiled.