Grace Wilkinson - The late-late family show

Reddening like a beet, Andy thanked the man and followed him toward the elevators. Not ever knowing the whereabouts of his wife was humiliating. Damn Lola!

The night air did little to quell Andy's anger and ill-humor as he headed toward the parking lot. What in hell was the use of having a wife if you never knew where she was or what she was doing? If she hardly ever let you touch her? If she smiled perhaps a little too sweetly at all the guys at the studio? He wondered how many of them she had fucked before he married her? That was a subject he dared not to think about! Before she became a weather girl, he knew that she had worked as a secretary on the second floor of the building.

Could he ever call a woman like Lola his?

Andy fitted the key into the door of the Mustang. Before he could turn the key, however, the door opened ever so slightly.

"You're late getting out," a soft, cat-like voice mewed from the front seat.

Andy gaped in surprise as he stared into the face of his wife.

"What?"

"You were expecting maybe someone else?" Lola said teasingly, using the foreign accent she sometimes used when they played together. So she was speaking to him again, even flirting cutely with him just as if she hadn't been acting like an iceberg for the last few days.

Andy shook his head and grimly got into the car. He was going to have a long serious talk with her, that was for sure!

"I certainly wasn't expecting you!" he said angrily as he started the engine.

"Why not? I am your wife!" She leaned forward and pushed in the cigarette lighter as the car slowly left the parking lot.

"You haven't been acting very much like a wife lately," Andy retorted.

She was silent as the car sped away rapidly, leaving behind the depressing gray of the city as they headed toward home, a big stone and wood house they had bought in the country, surrounded by trees and open space they could call their own. The closer they got to home, the more Lola relaxed. Her tone changed, and she scooted closer to him, her long sleek thighs pressed against his legs as she shook her head and heaved a sigh, "I'm sorry, darling."

Andy could still feel his cock hard and full of longing as it pulsated like an angry heart between his thighs. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her long lithe legs, the skirt hiked up to show the seductive curves of her calves, the firm contours of her thighs. He could smell her perfume; it came from the big blue bottle he had given her for her last birthday. He had seen her putting on a pair of lacey white panties that morning with a matching brassiere. He had wanted her then, and now nothing mattered except taking her straight to bed.

He took hope at the change in her voice and listened attentively, while pretending to be vastly interested in his driving.

"Really, I'm sorry, Andy," she said contritely, patting him on an arm and kissing his cheek. The newscaster felt a tingling thrill run up and down his spine.

"It's just that…" her voice trailed off.

Andy glared at her. "Just what? If you don't tell me what's wrong, how can I ever find out about it?"

"Well, I've been worried."

"What about?" Andy asked, his eyes darting suddenly to her.

"It's Rudy," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I'm very concerned about him."

"About Rudy!" he said. "Your brother again!" he growled, shaking his head with disgust. "What's he done now?"

"Well, he's left his job at the newspaper."

"Fired you mean!" This was all leading up to something. He could feel it in his bones.

"No, he didn't say that!" Lola cried, leaping on the defensive. She shot him an angry glance.

"What did he say then?" asked Andy suddenly tired.

"He said it was just impossible to get along with the managing editor there. You know how independent Rudy is. He's got such wonderful ideas, and imagination, so much get up and go…"

"Ummpth!"

"I know he's got great talent as a journalist, Andy. I just know it."

"And you want me to talk to old Foster about him, in spite of what I told you last time."

"Oh, Andy! I didn't dare bring it up. But I've been thinking a lot about it. Since Rudy's been married, he's much more stable than he used to be. All he really needs is a chance… a real chance. I know my brother!"

"Yeah…" Andy remained silent until they pulled up into their driveway. It was a form of blackmail for sure. He knew it, and yet he felt powerless to do anything about it. Instinctively he knew that the "open sesame" to his wife's plentiful charms would be the correct words he would say and the proper actions he would take. He was angry with Lola, but he had to help her, no matter how he felt.

"O.K., Lola. I'll have a talk with Foster tomorrow. I think we need a new roving reporter. Maybe Foster will give Rudy the job."

"Oh Andy, that's wonderful! Thank you darling!" She threw her arm around him.

Half-heartedly, he tried to keep from hugging her.

"You'll see," she said, excitedly, "Rudy will do fine!"

"He hasn't got the job yet," Andy growled, leaning over and kissing her before thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

"Oh, Andy…" Lola murmured, nudging her proud young breasts closer to her husband. "You warm me up all inside. You make me want to do something for you!"

As he felt her warm body pressing close to his, Andy wondered why his capricious wife didn't want to do something for him more often. But he wasn't about to ask her. Not at this time.

Lola's deft fingers slid along his thigh, rising high to touch the hard, protruding outline of his painfully throbbing penis. As she smoothed her fingers over it the newscaster moaned with desire.

"Let me take that poor hard thing out," Lola said, hoarsely, fumbling with the catch of the zipper before tugging it downward.

The unzipping sound was loud and obscene in the confines of the silver-blue Mustang. Outside the wind rustled through the trees bordering the two-story house.

They were utterly alone. What they did on their own property was their business, Andy thought, gritting his teeth as he felt Lola's fingers tugging at the rock-hard flesh of his pulsing cock. She pulled at it until it bobbed into sight, standing tall and erect beneath the steering wheel.

"Oh, so nice and hard!" Lola murmured, feeling its girth in her palm. "All for me, lover?"

When she talked like that, Andy always felt as though he was going to blow sky high, and this time was no exception.

"Come on…" he said, motioning for them to get out of the car and go into the house.

"No…" Lola whispered, squeezing his impatiently throbbing penis harder. "Here. Let's stay right here."

Andy abruptly remembered that he could, with the mere push of a button, send the seat – both seats in fact – reclining backward; it was a special option and he and Lola had gotten just about every special gadget that was available for the car. So far they hadn't used this one gimmick. But now was the perfect time to try it out. Andy reached under the dash and with a low whirring sound both seats slowly went back so that the married couple could lie completely prone.

His hands still encircling his wife's tiny waist, Andy could feel her struggling with one hand to slip down her panties. Never one for wasting time, his Lola; not when she'd decided to get into the thing anyway! Hurriedly, he too undid his belt and pulled his pants and shorts down. The cool night air circulated in the car. It was autumn with winter rapidly approaching; so since the motor had been off for several minutes now, the cold seeped slowly in. Andy, however, found it more invigorating than anything else – this plus the fact that he and Lola were half naked in the car outside their home. It added a sense of adventure and daring to the act, making it seem even more lewdly exciting.