Lane Novak - Full-bodied babe

"Just some slut trying to get a little airplay," Reno cynically replied.

"Well, she sure knew who to turn to," Joplin remarked.

"Look who's talking. She got you off without putting a finger on you. By the way, would you mind wiping that stain off the glass."

Joplin pointed to the console. "Hey, look. The phone lines are all lit up."

Reno pressed down one of the six flashing buttons and lifted the telephone receiver. "Hello, WXLV… That last record? It's called `I Want It And I Want It Now' by Babe. Sure, I'll play it again a little later in the show. Right."

He pressed down another button. "WXLV..

You want to hear the Babe record again? We already played it twice… Okay, okay. We'll play it again later… Yeah, I promise."

Each time Reno switched to another line, the line he had just answered lit up again. "WXLV…

You want to hear `I Want It And I Want It Now' and you want to hear it now? Whatever you say, pal."

The calls kept coming and every single one was a request for Babe's record.

"Do you believe this?" Joplin marveled. "You've created a monster."

"A monster hit," Reno replied. "I've got to get a hold of that chick."

"You already did," quipped Joplin. "She's gonna' go a long way." "She already has."

Reno cast a contemptuous scowl at his colleague. "Hey, Joplin. Save the puns for your own damn show."

As usual, Cliff Henderson was late for his next appointment. To make amends he called his business associate from the telephone in the back seat of his stretch limousine. "Lew? It's Cliff. Sorry I'm late, but I'm sitting in traffic."

Sergio, the driver, glanced up at him through the rear view mirror. Henderson gave him a sly wink. The limo had just pulled away from the curb and was breezing along the city streets.

"Yeah, I won't get there for at least another fifteen, twenty minutes," Henderson lamented.

"Okay. See you then. Bye."

As he hung up the phone, the successful manager of the hottest rock band in the world loosened his tie and sighed, "What a business."

"Care to change places?" Sergio offered with a smile.

"Not on your life," laughed Henderson.

The limousine proceeded onto a riverfront drive where, as luck would have it, they suddenly encountered heavy traffic that eventually slowed to a full stop and a bumperto-bumper delay.

"Oh, well," Henderson philosophized. "At least I have a legitimate excuse for being late."

"Sorry, sir," Sergio apologized.

"It's not your fault. I'll just place another call to let them know we'll be indefinitely detained." But as Henderson was reaching for the car phone, the door to the back seat suddenly opened and in hopped an attractive young woman in a tight, white halter top and red hotpants. At first, Henderson thought she was a hooker.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"My name's Babe McKay," she pleasantly introduced herself, as if there was nothing peculiar about her entrance. "May I have a word with you, Mr. Henderson?"

T"How did you know my name?"

"I'm in the business. I'm an admirer of your work."

"Is that so? How did you know where to find me? I mean, how did you know I happened to be in this place at this time?"

"I followed you from your office in a taxi," Babe confessed. "When we got stuck in traffic, I thought it was a great opportunity to drop in on you."

"Oh, really?" Henderson remarked. Angered, he turned to his chauffeur. "Sergio! How many times have I told you to lock the doors when we're driving?"

Sergio cringed and glanced at his benefactor in the rearview mirror. "Sorry, Mr. Henderson.

Would you like me to get rid of her?"

"Oh, please, Mr. Henderson," Babe beseeched, placing her hand gently on his thigh. "I've gone to great lengths to meet you."

"So you have," Henderson noted, not at all objecting to her touch. "But I do have an office and a phone. Couldn't you arrange an appointment?"

"You wouldn't have seen me," Babe scoffed.

"That depends. What did you want to see me about?"

"I'm in a band and we've got this terrific demo… "

"You're right," declared Henderson, jumping to conclusions. "I wouldn't have seen you. I'm not in the market for any new bands."

"But we're hot!" Babe insisted. "Jay Reno played our song on the air the other night and his station received three hundred calls in one hour! Everybody loved it!"

"So what do you want from me?"

"Well, for one thing, we need a manager." "Yeah, well, send a copy of the demo to my office and I'll see if one of my colleagues will be willing to work with you."

"We want you," said Babe emphatically.

"Honey," Henderson sighed, "I happen to be a little busy at the moment. I'm planning a world tour for my top act. Perhaps you've heard of them," he said sarcastically, "The Boys. They've sold twenty million albums in the last eighteen months, had four number one singles in a row."

"That's the other thing I wanted to discuss with you," Babe interjected. "I read in the trade papers that you're looking for an opening act for the tour."

"Don't tell me-you think your band would be perfect."

"We would. We're a hard-rockin', all-girl band. We'd complement The Boys just right."

"Let me explain the facts of life to you, sweetie," said Henderson condescendingly. "Allgirl bands are a novelty. That may be sexist. It may be unfair. But c'est la vie. "

"We're gonna' change that," vowed Babe. "We're gonna' shatter that perception. We write great, we play great, we sound great and we look great."

"Great!" shrugged Henderson. "Maybe you will revolutionize the industry, but you won't revolutionize it with me."

"Aw, come on. Don't be so resistant,' Babe pouted, moving her hand further up his thigh.

"Give in a little."

Henderson looked down at her hand, then cast a shrewd glare at her smiling face. "Listen, honey.

If you want to take advantage of my weakness for gorgeous chicks, that's more than okay with me.

But it's only fair to warn you, whatever happens between us doesn't constitute a binding agreement."

Babe shrugged. "Then let's just do it for the fun of it." She began stroking his leg, arousing him.

"Even if I were willing to… invest some of my valuable time to consider you as a client, I doubt I could convince The Boys that your band ought to be their opening act."

"Bet I could convince them," Babe grinned.

"Yeah, I bet you could," Henderson agreed, taking one of her breasts in his hand.

"Where would I find them?" Babe inquired.

"They're sequestered at Derek's suburban estate. They're rehearsing for the tour. They don't want to be disturbed. The place is heavily guarded. They don't even want to hear from me."

"I find that hard to believe," Babe scoffed. "I'm sure you could do something on my behalf … especially if I do something for you."

"You have a lot to learn, young lady," smirked Henderson. "You can't get ahead in this business simply by spreading your legs."

Testing his calm, Babe placed her hand on his crotch and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"On the other hand," said Henderson, "it's a great way to make friends."

"I have a feeling this is the beginning of a long, productive friendship," Babe predicted, unzipping his fly. As she yanked it out of his pants, Henderson's cock swelled in her grasp. Babe knelt between his legs and began sliding her wet lips up and down his shaft, gliding her mouth around and around its bulbous head before consuming the entire bulk of his throbbing tool.

As she sucked his dick, Henderson leaned his head back and closed his eyes, savoring the moist warmth of her luscious mouth. Her head bobbed slowly, her hands meticulously unbuckling his belt and loosening his trousers, stripping him below the waist without missing a stroke.