Roger Hurtwell - Her Driving Desires

Look at those lips, one of the cameramen said, swinging the camera around and centering it on Velvet's face. The woman looked up and saw herself on the television monitor. She knew better than to make any comment. She'd be on the air live any second now.

Velvet shivered in disgust as the other camera-man zoomed in on her and said, I bet she gives the best head in town. With sensuous lips like hers clamped around your prick, she could get you off in nothing flat.

Yeah, agreed the first man. It makes me horny just wondering how good she actually is. All these college chicks learn to give dynamite blowjobs, at least that's what I've heard.

Hey, Velvet, cried out the first. Why not come over here and start sucking on my cock? Just show me how good you are with some mouth-love. I bet you can't get me off in less than five minutes.

You son-of-a . . .

The dark-haired woman's eyes widened slightly in surprise as she saw the red light on the front of the camera blink on. They wanted her to make a complete and total fool of herself on the air. She swallowed hard and fought to get a smile onto her lips.

Good evening, she said, choking back the flood of anger she felt toward the two men. I'm Velvet Larkin and this is how the weather looks tonight.

She fought to keep her slender hand from shaking with impotent rage. The men's comments had been just loud enough for her to understand but not so loud that her microphone picked them up. She doubted that even the director in the booth heard what they were saying. The girl was no prude, but their suggestions disgusted her thoroughly.

They hadn't liked her from the first day she'd come to work at the station. They had a basic hatred of anyone who had gone to college, and she had just graduated. But their dislike of her went even deeper. They had both propositioned her crudely within the first week and she had coldly informed them that she didn't play around with her coworkers.

Larry, the bigger of the pair, had said, Well, fuck you, Miss High- and-Mighty!

Don't worry, she'd replied, grinning wickedly. Fucking me is the last thing you'll ever do.

That had made things really bad and Larry had gone out of his way to be nasty. He had put itching powder on the seat of her chair behind the big desk and then commented that all those college coeds had hot pants and just lived to have a real man get into them. She had put up with that; she had even put up with the man exposing himself to her while she was delivering the weather report for the Rocky Mountain West. She had just started on the campgrounds, telling of imminent rain showers over Rocks and Rattlesnakes Monument, when the man pulled out his prick and began jerking off. She had stuttered a little at the sight of his huge dork held in his meaty grip, but she had finished.

And it had almost finished her with the station.

But Velvet hung on grimly, vowing not to let those crude men drive her away. That would be giving in to them and giving them exactly what they wanted. If they couldn't fuck her, they would be content with fucking her over.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the red light on the camera winked off. The raven-haired beauty sighed and leaned forward, her hands clenched in fists; she felt her tits rising and falling heavily, threatening to spill out the low-scoop neck of her blouse.

Larry, don't ever do anything like that to me again. You slimy bastard, I'll cut your balls off if I can find them and stuff them down your throat if you do.

What'd I do? he said innocently. Did I do anything? he asked, turning to his friend. Christ, she must be having her period or something. But then all these college kids are touchy. Aren't you, kid?

I'm not a kid, she said coldly, trying to contain her anger. She knew it would do no good to get mad at Larry. He would only turn her anger against her. And you may call me Ms. Larkin from now on out. I deserve some respect around here.

Well, sorry, Mizz Larkin, he said sarcastically. Let's go get a beer, Ted, and let the bitch cool off. She'll learn the ropes one of these days. But it'll be long after we've died from old age.

Velvet closed her vivid blue eyes and felt rivers of sweat running down her face. She didn't know if it was from the hot lights or the strain of holding back her fiery temper. She hated being in a position where she couldn't lash out and say what she felt but it wouldn't do her any good now. She'd be fired. Those two were thicker than thieves with the station manager.

But not with Ben Carlton. Ben had hired her and had some small control over the others. After all, he was the program director, deciding what went on the air and what didn't. She pushed her papers into a neat stack and swung off for the man's office, wanting to get this matter of harassment on the job settled once and for all.

Ben looked up from a thick book as Velvet stormed into his office. He smiled slightly, his eyes working over her lush young body. He didn't have to be a clairvoyant to know what was on her mind.

Sit down, Velvet, and tell me all about it, he said before she could even open her mouth. This took some of the wind out of her sails and she sank down onto the only wooden chair in the office.

She crossed her legs, the thin fabric of her silken dress clinging slightly to her thighs, but providing a tantalizing flash of smoky nylon all the way up to her slender thighs. The man sighed at the sight. He felt his prick thickening. Just the sight of the woman was enough to get him turned on. He fought down the impulse to leap across the table, force apart her legs, and drive his cock all the way up into her pussy.

He was successful in fighting down the action, but the thought remained to torment him. The sight of her tits impudently bulging up and almost spilling out in white mounds from her blouse made him acutely aware of what was happening in his crotch and the way her nipples had sprung up, hard little buttons that throbbed and pulsed visibly.

Velvet didn't wear a bra and didn't need one. Her tits were ample, more than a mouthful, but firm.

You know? she demanded.

About Larry and Ted? Sure, they do this to all the women. With you it's worse because you're so pretty.

I hope I wasn't hired because of my looks.

She recrossed her legs and Ben, almost shot his wad. The sight of those legs moving in a scissoring action was almost more than he could take. Things hadn't been too good at home lately and he needed his ashes hauled bad.

I'd be lying like a rug if I told you that wasn't partly why you got the job as weathergirl. Weatherperson, he corrected himself as he saw her swelling with indignation. You're goddamn attractive, but you're qualified for the job, too. Overqualified. You have your degree in journalism but you've got to put in your time before you move up around here.

Her electric blue eyes boldly stared back at him. I want a chance to prove I can handle anything that comes my way.

Try handling Larry and Ted, then.

Them? she said in disgust. Do you know what they've been saying to me?

What? The things that the cameramen might have been saying to her were probably the very things going through Ben's mind. He tried to control himself, but the beautiful woman moved in such a fashion as to make that impossible.

She leaned forward, threatening to let her boobs come bursting out of the thin silk blouse at any second. He saw the smooth, creamy white flesh and longed to suck on it, to kiss and caress it, to take the hard bud of her nipple into his mouth and show her what he could do. His cock stiffened as he thought of all that.

Velvet breathed a little faster, too. She liked Ben, liked the way the young man looked, moved and acted. The woman knew she turned him on and she also liked the way he tried to hide it.