thing, Alexa – I think we are wrong about him being a reporter. I overheard a phone conversation and he was talking about problems with an act, one that needed sexing up a bit with a woman showing more cleavage – I thought he was part of some tacky nightclub act. Doesn’t gel with being a reporter, somehow,” Anna said thoughtfully.
“Not unless he’s one of these opportunists – he could be hoping to use a story about spending a night in the hay with the newest sex-expert as a way of getting some publicity for himself. He may have been using you in more ways than one, dearie.”
They descended to street level in silence to meet the cab that Alexa had ordered to whisk Anna to her TV interview across town but Anna found it difficult to return her agent’s cheerful wave and grin as the vehicle swung out to join the busy traffic.
“You okay, Miss?” the cab driver asked. “Yeah, fine thanks,” Anna lied. One thing was certain – the next time she clapped eyes on Jed Walker, or whatever the rat’s name was – she was going to tell him a few home truths about her views on his deceptions.
Sex-expert. That nauseous feeling rose back up in Anna’s stomach. She couldn’t think of anyone less an expert on sex than herself.
***
Jed Walker stirred sugar into his coffee, glad the station canteen was quiet for a change. The last thing he needed, after the awful interview with Maureen Delgado, was to have to put up with the usual raucous carry on of media folk in uproar.
Maureen hadn’t taken too well to the request that she add a little spice to her presentations – and frankly, he couldn’t say he blamed her. Maureen was a good interviewer, a calm and patient reporter who had an ability to draw the facts from the most reluctant of interviewees with her technique of using honey to trap the flies. He had not been surprised at her reaction when she took serious exception to the suggestion that she show more cleavage and conduct a more aggressive style of interviewing to bully or bludgeon her victim into making sensational statements that would up the ratings.
Maureen had gone storming off in tears, announcing that she intended to take early leave for her pregnancy and then consider her options when the baby was born. Geez, that was the last thing he needed – to feel like a monster bullying a pregnant woman into a sexed up performance in order to boost his station’s ratings.
As it was, they were already short staffed because of the economy driven, freeze on hiring – which meant he’d have trouble filling Maureen’s regular daytime slot with temporary interviewers.
Lord knows, everybody and her sister wanted to be a TV chat show host – they’d be lined up at his door in droves when the word got out that he was short–staffed. But for every thousand willing wannabes, there was maybe one who could hold his or her own in front of the camera for 45 minutes without making a massive screw up.
The percentages fell even more dramatically when you were looking for someone who had interviewing skills, who could handle the camera, find and research their own interviewees, and generally not behave in a way that would get the station into law suits galore.
He sighed deeply, and thoughts of Anna Findlay flooded his brain. Now there was a face – and a personality – that could handle a TV spot. Yes, Anna Findlay would do just fine – and he could think of other positions he’d like to see her in, too. Most notably beneath him in a nice, soft bed, her eyes wide with pleasure as she clung to him…
There he went again, growing hard at the memory of a woman he’d only known for a few hours. And that few hours had taught me she was a conniving, self-centred user whose only thoughts were to promote herself. Which was why, even if she was the last woman on earth, he would never allow her to take a job in his station – or into his bed.
End of story.
He pressed his secretary’s number on his cell phone.
“Not unless he’s one of these opportunists – he could be hoping to use a story about spending a night in the hay with the newest sex-expert as a way of getting some publicity for himself. He may have been using you in more ways than one, dearie.”
They descended to street level in silence to meet the cab that Alexa had ordered to whisk Anna to her TV interview across town but Anna found it difficult to return her agent’s cheerful wave and grin as the vehicle swung out to join the busy traffic.
“You okay, Miss?” the cab driver asked. “Yeah, fine thanks,” Anna lied. One thing was certain – the next time she clapped eyes on Jed Walker, or whatever the rat’s name was – she was going to tell him a few home truths about her views on his deceptions.
Sex-expert. That nauseous feeling rose back up in Anna’s stomach. She couldn’t think of anyone less an expert on sex than herself.
***
Jed Walker stirred sugar into his coffee, glad the station canteen was quiet for a change. The last thing he needed, after the awful interview with Maureen Delgado, was to have to put up with the usual raucous carry on of media folk in uproar.
Maureen hadn’t taken too well to the request that she add a little spice to her presentations – and frankly, he couldn’t say he blamed her. Maureen was a good interviewer, a calm and patient reporter who had an ability to draw the facts from the most reluctant of interviewees with her technique of using honey to trap the flies. He had not been surprised at her reaction when she took serious exception to the suggestion that she show more cleavage and conduct a more aggressive style of interviewing to bully or bludgeon her victim into making sensational statements that would up the ratings.
Maureen had gone storming off in tears, announcing that she intended to take early leave for her pregnancy and then consider her options when the baby was born. Geez, that was the last thing he needed – to feel like a monster bullying a pregnant woman into a sexed up performance in order to boost his station’s ratings.
As it was, they were already short staffed because of the economy driven, freeze on hiring – which meant he’d have trouble filling Maureen’s regular daytime slot with temporary interviewers.
Lord knows, everybody and her sister wanted to be a TV chat show host – they’d be lined up at his door in droves when the word got out that he was short–staffed. But for every thousand willing wannabes, there was maybe one who could hold his or her own in front of the camera for 45 minutes without making a massive screw up.
The percentages fell even more dramatically when you were looking for someone who had interviewing skills, who could handle the camera, find and research their own interviewees, and generally not behave in a way that would get the station into law suits galore.
He sighed deeply, and thoughts of Anna Findlay flooded his brain. Now there was a face – and a personality – that could handle a TV spot. Yes, Anna Findlay would do just fine – and he could think of other positions he’d like to see her in, too. Most notably beneath him in a nice, soft bed, her eyes wide with pleasure as she clung to him…
There he went again, growing hard at the memory of a woman he’d only known for a few hours. And that few hours had taught me she was a conniving, self-centred user whose only thoughts were to promote herself. Which was why, even if she was the last woman on earth, he would never allow her to take a job in his station – or into his bed.
End of story.
He pressed his secretary’s number on his cell phone.
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