Jackie Reedly: Sex and the Boss Wife

"Tell you something else, Scott. Right this minute he's counting something else. You should have seen this morning's mail. Sponsors are clambering for time on your show. You're a hit."

"Jesus, that's great news. Now all I have to do is keep them calling."

"They will, especially if that woman with the sexy voice keeps calling you."

"Oh, you mean my mystery woman. She's something all right. She calls almost every night. You should hear some of the stuff she says to me that I don't let get out over the air. I hope she keeps right on."

"Who is she, anyway?" Rona asked.

"Search me. I have no idea, but I sure would like to find out. You know something, Rona?" Scott said, leaning over her desk and whispering. "For a while there I thought it was you."

The redhead looked shocked. "You did? Why, Scott, I'd never call in like that. It's, well, it's so brazen."

Scott smiled at her, resisting the temptation to say he thought it was no more brazen than making up stories to excite a man. "Got to go now and see the boss," he said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the end of her nose.

He found Hal Ransberg at his desk, just finishing the morning mail. The way the man beamed at him, it was hard for him to believe yesterday had ever occurred. He rose to his feet, his arms outstretched. "Come in, My Boy. Come and sit down."

Scott bit his tongue. It was all he could do not to comment on his boss' change in attitude. Rona had been right. The mail was full of sponsor requests, and they were all for his show. At least that was what Ransberg's open friendliness made him suspect. Now, he thought to himself, was the time he should have another job lined up, just waiting for him to take it. How he would love to walk out of KSZX and leave Ransberg in the lurch. Then he could get on the telephone to Celia and ask her to join him. He felt sure she would go anywhere, as long as it was not Indianapolis, her plant store and other commitments not withstanding.

He slipped into the chair opposite Ransberg's desk and waited until the man sat down. "What did you want, Sir?" he asked.

"Merely to congratulate you properly on the sudden success of your show. You're a genius, My Son, a real genius. By the way, do you think you have time to run a few extra commercials during your show?"

"I don't see why not. Up to now there have hardly been any. I was feeling like a charity case."

"Well, there are plenty now," Ransberg said, waving the sheaf of papers on his desk. "Seems they all want to be part of your action. I'll get the Ad Department busy on the copy right away."

Scott wondered whether this would be a good time to ask for a raise. The idea struck him funny. Yesterday, he had been resigned to losing his job with the station. Today, he was a hero.

"Ah, I see you're smiling, My Boy, and well you might. You're a big success. It's nice to have you as part of our broadcasting family." Ransberg rose from his desk and extended his hand. The interview was over.

Scott shook the manager's pudgy hand and left his office. Just as he was going out the door, Ransberg called after him, "Oh, by the way, Son, the little woman and I would like you to come over to our place on Friday night. We're having a sort of get together, you know, to celebrate the Christmas season, and we'd like to have you with us. Bring a date if you want to."

"Thanks, Sir. I'd like that," Scott said as he closed the door.

As soon as he was alone, Ransberg hit the intercom button. "Miss Barnes, would you come in here, please. No need to bring your pad and pencil."

Rona knew what that meant, and her heart sank. Ransberg wanted sex again. She hated this degrading ritual he had made a part of her job. Whenever the station manager touched her, she wanted to vomit. Her only consolation was that he did not make his demands very often. His doctor told him he had to slow down. She wished she knew the doctor's name. She would send him a bottle of Scotch. The trouble was when Ransberg did get horny, he wanted all sorts of degrading things from her. How badly do I want this job, anyway, she thought to herself as she made her way back to his office, after making some excuse to get one of the other girls to cover her desk while she was gone.

"Here I am, Mr. Ransberg," Rona said, sticking her head in the door.

"Ah, good. It took you long enough," Ransberg grunted.

"I had to get someone to mind the phones," she answered, trying to look pleasant.

"Come in and close the door. That's it. Lock it behind you like always." He leered at her hungrily. "Now come over to me."

Rona walked across the office to his desk. It was as if she were in some nightmarish dream, just as it always was. Her stomach turned over and over and over again as she approached Ransberg. As she rounded the corner of his big desk, he swung himself around toward her. His pants were open, and he held his fat, stubby cock in his hand.

"See," he said, leering again, "I've got him all ready for you."

Rona tried to smile. What would he want today?

"You ready to take it up the hind end?" Ransberg rasped, waving his short, thick cock at her.

"No. Never. I can't do that," she stammered, her head spinning.

Ransberg chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Honey. We can wait. Both of us are very patient. One of these days you'll be ready to give us what we want."

Monica was waiting for Scott.

"Hey," he shouted, jumping into her Camaro, "this is a nice surprise."

"I figured you could use a little action after that horny show of yours last night." She gunned the engine and eased the car into traffic.

"Oh? Did you hear it?"

"Honey," Monica said, flashing him a big smile, "everybody in this frigging town heard it. You may not know it yet, but you're rapidly becoming a local celebrity."

"I'm beginning to suspect it. The boss actually said something nice to me this morning, and believe me, that's probably a sign of something."

"Who is the manager down there nowadays?"

"His name's Hal Ransberg, and he's a real shit."

Monica nodded thoughtfully. "I thought that's who it was. I went to school with his wife. She's a lot younger than he is, and she's from a rich family. I'm trying to remember the story. There was quite a scandal when they got married. He left his first wife for her. That wouldn't be a story anywhere else, but you have to remember this is Indianapolis."

"Well," Scott said, stretching luxuriously back in the bucket seat, "I expect to be meeting the lassie before very long. Ransberg invited me to a Christmas party."

"That should be interesting," Monica said as she pulled into the parking lot of Roley Towers. "You won't have far to go, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Last I knew Dorry and her husband lived right up there." She pointed to the penthouse.

"No shit? You mean to tell me Ransberg's wife can look down to the ninth floor of the next tower and see you and me in action?"

Monica giggled. "She could if we left the blinds up."

Scott stared up at the penthouse thirty floors above them. All he could see was its wide, covered balcony and floor to ceiling windows glittering in the winter sunshine. "So that's where the boss lives. How the hell does he afford it? He can't make that much loot, even as station manager."

"I told you his wife was rich. Among other things, her father owns the station where you work, which is how come his daughter's husband is the manager." Monica took him by the arm. "Come on and let's get upstairs. I'm so hungry for your prick I might rip your pants off right here in the street."

Scott was rooted to the spot, his eyes still focused on the penthouse at the top of the tower next to his. "Oh, yeah, I'm coming," he mumbled.

"Not yet, Honey, not yet. You're not coming anywhere this morning but in me." She grasped him harder by the arm and dragged him into the building.