Chapter 11

Amanda was insatiable that night, waking Bobby three times, and demanding that he fill her again. In the morning she mistook his piss hardon for desire for her, and climbed on, riding him through two orgasms before he pushed her off by pure brute force and hopped to the bathroom. Had it been outside her room, in the hallway, he’d have hopped out there naked, so urgent was his need to empty his bladder.

She was waiting for him, her legs and arms in the restraints again, when he came out, and he laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me, you bastard!” she snarled, pulling at the ropes. “You made me this way!”

She had told him, between times, as they lay panting, about asking her father questions about the station, and about his answers that told her he approved of a format change. He stood over her, leaned down to suckle at a nipple, and then calmly reminded her of that.

Her eyes opened wide and she strained to look at the clock. It was almost seven ... on a Tuesday morning ... when she needed to be at work, talking to Rodney and the others. She scraped her wrists, trying to get them out of the restraints she had put herself into, her lust suddenly banked, and jumped up out of the bed as he stood, grinning at her.

“I hate you!” she said, unconvincingly. “I’ll be horny all day, and it’s all your fault.”

“Come on, now,” he teased, pulling her against him and feeling her butt. He ground his now-limp penis into her groin. “Don’t be like that.”

She fought him with a tiger’s strength, pushing and slapping at him to get away, and stood, panting and wild-eyed.

“Are you going to get dressed and come with me?” she asked.

“You’re so impatient,” he teased.

She looked down, to see a thick stream of Bobby’s spunk draining out of her. She wasn’t surprised. She’d demanded that he squirt in her every time they’d made love. As she watched, a string oozed out, stretched, and dropped to the floor with a wet plop.

“If you didn’t make me pregnant last night, it isn’t possible for you to make me pregnant,” she hissed.

“I only gave you what you needed,” he said, his face suddenly calm.

“I know that,” she said, just as calmly. “I’m going to need it again.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said.

Then it was her that hugged him, gripping him tightly and pushing her breasts into his chest. She kissed him feverishly, several times ... impatient kisses ... hungry kisses, and then pushed him away.

“Get dressed,” she said, her voice pleading. “Come with me. You helped make this happen. You should be there when I tell them.”

“Okay,” he said. “Even though I’m worn to a frazzle, and dead tired, I’ll go with you. I’d probably fall asleep on the way home anyway.”

“Stay here today,” she urged. “You can fall asleep on me tonight.”

Her father was up and in the kitchen, sitting by the kitchen table while Doris, the morning attendant fixed his oatmeal. Amanda was thinking too fast to think about the fact that Bobby was there, with her, in front of her father, but, in a peculiar bent of mind, stopped to inform Doris that he could have real food. Then she had to demonstrate how to question him, using the bean bags. kissing her father on the forehead, she told him she loved him and literally ran from the kitchen, to find Bobby already in the car, with the engine running.

Since Bobby was driving, she had time to think, and that was when she realized that her father had seen Bobby in the house, early in the morning, coming from the direction of her room. She moaned and covered her eyes with her hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. She told him. “You’re a grown woman,” he said.

“Yes, but Daddy’s always been very conservative about things like that,” she sighed. “I don’t know how to explain this to him.”

“You’ll find a way,” said Bobby. He sounded confident, and that made her feel a little better.

By the time they got to the station, she was excited again, and had pushed the problem of her father to the back of her mind. She whisked into the station like a whirlwind, barking at the employees, except for the DJ on duty, to meet her in her office. Once there, she introduced Bobby.

“Some of you know about this man. I hired him ... as a consultant. He’s been working with Daddy, and has worked out a way to communicate with him.”

“You’re a therapist?” Rodney’s voice squeaked.

“He does the same things that a therapist does,” said Amanda, answering for Bobby, who smiled. “That’s not important. What’s important is that we found out Daddy thinks we should have a format change.”

Eyes darted at other eyes, all of which were avoiding Amanda.

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “You’ve been trying to get both Daddy and me to do that for a long time. Okay, we’re going to do it. How many of you ever listen to WRMZ in Wichita?”

More eyes darted back and forth. Belinda, the college girl who made the pre-recorded tapes that Amanda had used on the nights she worked the sound booth, as well as the ones used when no one was in the station, timidly raised her hand.

Amanda snorted. “Just one of you? Or is she the only one who’s willing to tell the truth?”

Two more hands went up, the receptionist ... and Rodney.

“Good,” said Amanda. “If you listen to that station, you know what Daddy likes, because he’s had our radio at home on that station for ... I don’t know how long. Like a dope, I thought the people taking care of Daddy kept changing it, but then, thanks to Bobby, I found out otherwise.” Actually, she lied about that, but figured it wasn’t important. What was important was getting people to accept Bobby as part of the team, because she wanted Bobby around her from now on, at least sometimes.

“You’re serious?” asked Julie. “We’re going with rock?”

“We’re going with what people are buying,” said Amanda. “I don’t want to get into a corner here,” she said. “We may be the first multiple format radio station in the state. And I want to find advertisers who will sponsor a long song program too, where we can play things that are five ... six ... seven minutes long. Nobody else is doing that, and I want KDEF to be the pioneers of that kind of flexibility. Start talking to people whose customers are between sixteen and thirty. Tell them what we want to do and try to sell half hour sponsorships. We’re going to try to run half hour slots with nothing but music, and the listeners will then be told who brought that uninterrupted music to them. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am!“ squealed Julie. “Can I start now?”

“Don’t be so impatient,” said Bobby, his voice soft. Everybody looked at him. “You don’t even have a suggested playlist for them to look at ... samples for them to listen to. Get your ducks in a row before you start shooting at them.”

“Oh,” said Julie, deflating a bit. “Yeah.” She looked embarrassed.

“Don’t feel bad,” said Amanda, slapping Bobby on the arm. “If I had a nickel for each time he told me I was too impatient, I wouldn’t need to run a radio station to eat.”

Amanda didn’t call Bobby for almost a week after the decision was made to change the format of the station. That turned out all right for Bobby, though, because, during that week, Rhonda Wilson delivered his daughter, who she named Elizabeth.

Rhonda and Herb were still married, but now it was admitted to be a marriage of convenience, which suited them both. Rhonda, having been pulled out of her shell by Bobby, loved being pregnant. She loved the attention it got her when she was out in public. Men looked at her differently than they had... if they had ... looked at her before. She felt confident and happy. Like the other women, she loved the father of her baby, but that love wasn’t the kind of love most women tend to lavish on their mate. It was more like Bobby was her best friend - best male friend - someone she would cherish forever, but never own, or claim exclusively.

Her best female friend, Janet Griswold, who had been responsible for getting Bobby and Rhonda together in the first place, was less happy. Rhonda had been emotionally dependent on Janet for years. That was no longer the case, though they were still best friends. In truth, Janet was little envious of Rhonda, because Rhonda was almost always happy, these days.

Janet stood in the hospital room of her best friend, and admitted that she was nervous and skittish. There were two reasons for that. The first was the baby she was holding ... Rhonda’s baby ... cute, adorable, darling Elizabeth, who was so tiny, and so perfect that it just made Janet’s womb quiver. The second was that Elizabeth’s father was there too, standing right next to her. Janet could feel his breath on her face. She had looked up at him earlier, as they examined the precious bundle of joy in her arms. She had immediately decided never to look into those blue eyes again.

That was because they made her womb quiver too.

At thirty-one years of age, divorced twice, and childless, as she held little Elizabeth, Janet Griswold knew that she needed to get laid.

She had tried to hire Bobby, thinking he was a ‘regular’ gigolo, for ten dollars, to bed Rhonda. That ten dollars had resulted in both Rhonda’s and Janet’s worlds being turned upside down. That upset had been caused by Bobby making love to Rhonda almost endlessly, as far as Janet was concerned. She couldn’t remember the number of nights she had called Rhonda, asking her to get together, only to be told that Bobby was coming over that night. Now, as she held the fruit of all those unions, and saw the delight on her friend’s face when she looked at Bobby and their baby, she wanted, in the worst way, to hire Bobby to do the same thing for her.

The most frustrating part of it all was that she couldn’t do that. Well ... to be truthful ... the most frustrating part of it was that she couldn’t figure out why she just couldn’t do that.

After a week of working her tail off, organizing the efforts of her staff, and coming up with a new business plan, Amanda recognized in herself some old habits that she no longer liked. She was impatient and bossy. She made up her mind and resisted the input of people she now realized knew a whole lot more about the radio business than she did. She was fighting progress.