Chapter 42: Mother's Day

Walking in the door of the city's No. 2 television station, KCAR, Jackie Freeman was seeing many things for the first time this morning. The first thing that struck her was how seedy much of the station actually was.

She marveled at anchor Aimee Godwin's long legs, and wondered if she wore impossibly high heels in order to be as tall as her co-anchor, former Cal football hero Milton Sayers. Aimee herself had been a college hoops player back East, and she and Sayers' one-on-one battles in their parking lot court were always water cooler conversation the next day.

The station had its fair share of male employees, but sports anchor Walt Decker had an afternoon radio walk show and principal weather anchor Simon Jones was also the area's NOAA rep who had his own office and indeed did the weather each weekday from the remote location with an automated camera.

There was Mack, Darren McCarver's talent cameraman; the weekend intern fillins – no ever remembered their names – and the legendary Benny Hall, the Traffic Hound Dog. At least, that was the nickname used in public and over the air. Around the station, he was referred to as either the Traffic Accident Hound Dog or, simply, DOA because Hall was famous (or notorious, viewpoints varied) for being the first to arrive at accident scenes, as well as his refusal to shy award from fresh blood.

If a wreck proved to be alcohol-related, he would not shy away from any aspect of the damage done. His report on a fiery wreck between a drunk returning home from an all-nighter and a school bus on its morning run horrified viewers and earned he and the station a local Emmy award.

Jackie and Benny were an occasional nooner over the years, but it was nothing more serious than two people actually liking one another. But Benny was seldom at the station any more since his prostate turned cancerous and the chemo made him feel more sick that the illness.

As Jackie passed Hall's cluttered desk, it struck her that she felt no familiar ripple of attraction for the ex-Marine. But that sudden feeling of emptiness disappeared when she collided into another producer who wasn't paying attention, named Tamara Winstead.

"Uh, morning Tamara!" Jackie managed.

"Oh, hey girl!" the red-headed Englishwoman said in a voice as rushed as her body language. "I'm having to run. We're giving Kalee a boob-day party at the mall Applebee's here shortly. I believe your daughter is supposed to be there!"

Bingo! Jackie thought. She had to act right away because Tamara was in no mood wait around.

"Wait! I need you to give Renee as message for me," Jackie said, drawing close.

"Sure, love. What..." Tamara began. That was a far as she got, however, as Jackie smothered her mouth with a full-on kiss that included one hand behind Tamara's head and another slipped between her very proper stockings and under a very improper thong. That was no obstacle, as she slid her Simmons-sized hand into Tamara's honey pot.

The effect was almost immediate. Tamara collapsed against her colleague in a sudden, albeit silent, orgasm.

"Give her a kiss for mommy, will you?" Jackie whispered. "Looking forward to fucking you later, OK?"

Tamara rose up, gathered herself.

"You know it!" she said professionally. "I will obey."

And with that, she was out the door, not quite at the point where she was wondering what happened to her.

Jackie looked around at the other empty desks – that one belonged to Tamara. Then there was Darren's desk, next to Tamara's.

But thanks to her success as a "former" on-air performer, Jackie had her own office like Aimee and Matthew. They all shared a perky green-eyed production assistant named Scottie Davenport, a onetime model wannabe who embodied some of the energetic qualities of the dog of the same name. As she approached Scottie's desk, now Jackie began getting that familiar tingle;

"Morning, Scottie," Jackie said, offering her best, most brilliant smile.

Scottie, who caught only the final moments of Jackie's embrace with Tamara and thought it was merely to producers sharing a confidence, looked up and sort-of returned the smile.

"Homesick again?" Jackie asked.

"Homesick ... still," Scottie replied, finally smiling. "This time of year, Texas seems so far away."

"All I can do is give you a hug and tell you I understand," Jackie said, reaching over to hug the young girl. Scottie's response was hesitant at first, but as Jackie rubbed her back and, more importantly, touched her cheek and neck with her fingertips, she began to respond.

"Ms. Simmons! You're not wearing a bra!" Scottie whispered.

Jackie winked at her PA.

"Pretty soon, you won't be, either," she whispered back as she stepped into her office.

"Scottie's eyes went wide and she touched a strap through her blouse. A few minutes later she disappeared from her desk, and upon her return the appearance of two pronounced, perky nipples announced the departure of her bra and modesty. She resumed working as if uninterrupted.

After after a scant few moments, Jackie buzzed her desk. "Come in please, Scottie. Bring your bra."

Scottie went directly to Jackie's office. Her boss said nothing, but extended her hand. Scottie placed her bra in it with a word. Jackie dropped it in the trash can.

"You want to burn it?" Jackie asked.

"No," Scottie giggled. "What is this, the 60s?"

"Just understand – that will be the last of them, OK?" she stated sternly.

Scottie, who enjoyed being braless during her free days anyway, found herself nodding in agreement.

"Now, your panties, too," Jackie said in the same tone. "You can close the door first."

"I have stockings on," Scottie said uncomfortably. "You know, garter belt and all that."

"Not pantyhose? Good. Panties off, stockings stay on," Jackie said. "And meet me back here at lunchtime."

"Yes, ma'am," she agreed, gracefully unfastening her straps and stepping out of her lacy white granny panties.

"Scottie," Jackie stopped her as she turned to go. "You are very pretty."

"Thank you, ma'am," she replied, hoping the juices flowing out of her now-exposed pussy wouldn't stain her stockings. Scottie went out to her desk, slipped off her dazzling engagement ring and stuck it in her desk drawer. Stepping over to the supply room, she was able to find a small, padded envelope in which she would eventually place the ring. At the end of the chaotic day, Scottie sealed the envelope, addressed it to her soon-to-be-ex and dropped it into the OUT tray.

Jackie spent the morning calling parents of Meredith's friends, inviting them to a party that was exclusive to mothers, daughters and sisters, all the while feeling her pussy tingle, and a tightness in her chest (boobs?). More than once, she peeked at her reflection in her compact mirror and marveled at the face it showed.

At this rate, I won't be needing makeup, except on camera, she thought.

Scottie tapped on the door.

"It's lunchtime," she said, peeking in.

"So it is," Jackie said, looking at her wall clock. "Close the door, Scottie."

Jackie rolled her executive chair from around her desk and sat lewdly, legs spread far apart. Scottie, who she'd barely known despite her earlier reassurances, did not hesitate to kneel down and begin servicing Jackie's clean-shaven pussy.

Scottie was studiously attentive to her duty, stretching out Jackie's labia with a firm lip-lock, and doing all the right things to and around Jackie's clit. But it wasn't until Scottie looked up at her boss with her unique deep green eyes that Jackie came for the first time. It was much more of a spurt that she expected, bathing Scottie's face in liquid sex.

At the end of the scheduled lunch break, Scottie reapplied her lipstick and Handi-wiped away most traces of Jackie from her face. She paused as she looked in the mirror, wondering when she'd ever eaten such a nourishing, filling meal.

A little before 3 p.m., Jackie's cell phone squawked to life. A glance told her it was from Meredith.

"Hey, love," she answered. But what her daughter had to say generated no response. She listened silently for over a minute. "Got it. That's perfect."

Jackie popped out of her office to find Scottie proofreading a letter while frigging herself.

"Come with me," Jackie said. Scottie rose from her seat, smoothing her dress back into place. Without a further word between them, she followed Jackie through the studio door and down a long hallway to the station's isolated executive offices.

Separated by an endless corridor and having its own separate entrance and gated parking lot, this was the exclusive domain of KCAR owner and GM Natasha (Neely) Bonds. Only her personal secretary, Stephanie Locke, shared this corner of the square block: you might call them entitled. That's a perfect word for it, Jackie thought – considering the key-card protected lot and the combination locked entrance.

Locke (as everyone called her – by her insistence) was a buxom, jolly English girl who looked older than her 25 years. Hired by Neely shortly after her controversial ascension to the station's GM role, Locke got along well enough the "others" (as the remaining employees were known back here), but she remained fiercely loyal to her mysterious boss.

No one – nobody, nohow – got in to see Neely without her stamp of approval. That was why Jackie was leaving nothing to chance by bringing her own PA to as backup.

"Jackie!" Locke said with a phony "welcome" tone. "What brings you down here?"

"I'm going to need to see Neely. Later, not right now," Jackie said seriously but with a brilliant, quality, equally phony smile. "I just wanted to lay the groundwork for something?"

"And what might that be?" Locke asked, her smile quickly fading.

"Can I tell you something in confidence?" Jackie said softly, squatting down to the assistant's right and placing a hand on the woman's bare arm.

"You know I cannot keep any secrets from boss lady," she said defensively, the internal struggle already beginning. But Scottie moved to the other side and touched Locke in a similar fashion to help channel the energy.

"Well, sure! Go ahead and tell me!" she reversed herself just that quickly, touching Jackie's hand, albeit tentatively, in return.

Jackie grasped her wrist more firmly. Locke was also aware of Scottie's hands, touching her neck, touching her back.

"Something is happening here, in Daytown, happening to we women," she said softly as Locke's resolve faded. Both women moved closer to place both hands on her, then around her. "We want to make sure she's aware and we can see her when it all comes together."