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Introducing J.T. Burroughs, Reporter |
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By Margo Perry
Through my glassed-in office, I watched my skeletal staff struggle to put the paper to bed. They were a happy hive of bees working toward a common goal. How was I going to tell them that I’d hired a new reporter, after firing two of our longstanding own just yesterday?
I’d smelled trouble the moment I laid eyes on JT and told myself that there was nothing to worry about. I could handle it. But, I was wrong. Instead of following my gut, I’d followed JT’s lead into this … a world of trouble.
Your staff is going to hate you!
That provoking voice in my head was always right.
After yesterday’s dastardly deed, I’d forced myself to watch two old friends bravely cram their belongings into cardboard boxes and leave. My head ached and the sharp pain in my stomach meant that my ulcer had kicked in. So you know I wasn’t in any mood for bullshit when my publisher, Apollo, breezed in and summoned me into my own office.
“Barney, I got a gift for you,” he said, shooting a slender file across my desk.
“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” I shot back. “What is this?”
“An offer you can’t refuse. The deal is a desk and space in return for one story per week. No salary involved. JT has already filmed a news story for our television station, NOW News, and they’re running it tonight. So, you’ll get to see JT in action.”
They’re really pushing this guy. Who the fuck is J. T. Burroughs?
I’d scanned his razor-thin résumé during Apollo’s pitch. “All I see here is an Iraqi vet with medals. A vet who wants to take over an experienced reporter’s desk, with no media background at all. I love our men in uniform and appreciate their service, but aren’t you the man who forced me to let two reporters go today? And now you want me to take on a newbie? My staff will riot! They might even walk.”
“Look, all I ask is that you have dinner with JT tonight. Discuss. Watch the show. After that, make up your own mind. I won’t interfere.”
My one chance would have been to refuse then and there. But I didn’t.
“Okay, I’ll go. But, there’ll be no hiring.”
“That’s all I ask,” Apollo said. “6:30. Commodore Motel.”
I couldn’t believe it, but I was panting when I reached the lobby. I pulled my jacket away from my sweaty body - the cheap material was clinging to my shirt like a piece of toilet paper sticks to a shoe. I wasn’t feeling good about myself.
A fifty-five year old man should be able to walk ten minutes without huffing and puffing. You’ve got to get yourself back in the gym, fatso.
Right! Now I was mocking myself. I silently swore to restart my weight-loss regime first thing Monday morning.
I crossed the lobby, wishing that I was in my apartment enjoying a Scotch, away from the handsome camera-pleasing-hero who was already making me feel old, pitiful and jealous of his youth.
Pull yourself together. You’re here to interview that boy for a job. Get over yourself!
What I couldn’t get over was that this was an exercise in futility. I had just let two experienced and talented reporters go and had no interest in hiring anyone.
“She’s waiting for you in the bar, sir.”
“Thanks.”
She? She!
I followed the manager’s gaze and saw her. JT Burroughs was climbing off a barstool and moving toward me, smiling, her hand extended as if to put me at ease. And I desperately needed to be put at ease.
My mind was dizzily comparing her to images of women who really did it for me:
Diaz’ bank entrance in ‘The Mask’, Stone smoking and crossing her legs in ‘Basic Instinct’. Close, unrestrained and devouring in ‘Fatal Attraction’.
But, as alluring as those fantasies were, JT still stood alone because overwhelming her long, lean, in-fighting-shape body were her humungous, mind-fucking tits! And the moment I saw them, I knew that she’d be more than I could handle.
I’d known since I was a child that I was obsessed with tits, the bigger the better. But I’d never been this close to real ones and I was awe-struck stupid. I couldn’t think of a word to say.
“Let’s have a drink, shall we?”
Following her back to the bar, I noticed that a slight limp interrupted the flow of her otherwise graceful carriage. It reminded me that she was a soldier, and a wounded soldier at that.
Somebody needing looking after? Needing a job? Your cock is so in play here!
I felt foolish.
She perched herself onto a high barstool as I struggled onto mine.
“I see that your guest has arrived. Are you ready to order?” the bartender asked.
JT stared at me. I noticed that her eyes morphed from grey to green, depending on the tilt of her head and how they caught the light.
“Scotch,” she said. “Two. On the rocks, water on the side.”
The woman had read my mind and I grinned like a schoolboy.
This is supposed to be an interview. Try to come up with at least one question!
The drinks came and she raised her glass in a toast.
“To getting to know each other,” she said. Her voice was deep enough to be masculine, except for husky overtones that made it textured, female and seductive, and it turned me on just like the rest of her.
She straightened her back, crossed her legs and leaned toward me, her demeanour all business. “You have a right to know why I’m here. I’m here because nobody knows me and I need a fresh start.”
“What are you running from?”
“An old life of close knit friends and family that no longer fit. I can’t be their hero. I’m no longer that girl with plans to get married and have a family one day.”
She sounded wistful and I ached at how much she’d lost.
“Who are you now?” I asked as gently as I could.
A frown puckered her brow and she began nibbling her bottom lip. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy version of a ballerina’s chignon. Escaped tendrils teased her long neck and the braided bun lay somewhere off to one side. Anybody might have guessed that she was a model - she was beautiful enough in anybody’s language. But she wasn’t, and I wanted to hear more about who she really was. “Why do you want to be a reporter?”
I was listening, but her breasts were calling out to me. The fabric of her jacket was pressured to high alert by their abundant mass. I imagined her cleavage and wanted to see her in something revealing, something less than her stern cotton shirt.
“Because I have questions about the country I love and have killed for. We return to towns that no longer feel like home. I want to know why . . .?”
Suddenly, there was a mighty crash. A busboy had tripped, sending his overloaded tray of glass and silverware everywhere. JT literally flew off her seat. With the grace of a panther, she landed at my feet, crouched low and at the ready with her hand firmly on the gun that I now saw was tucked in her pants.
“I guess that answers your question,” she said, glancing up at me with a wobbly grin. “I’m just another soldier without a war.”
War or no war, I was very afraid for her and ashamed of myself. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d written a piece about our returning warriors.
She stood slowly, her eyes darting about the room, scanning for danger. As the busboy recovered unscathed, the place erupted into raucous laughter. JT dropped to the floor again, disappearing from my view and reappearing at the busboy’s side. Within seconds, she’d managed to retrieve every glass, cup and item of silverware that he’d dropped from his tray. The room burst into applause.
“How the fuck did she manage that?” The bartender shook his head, shrugged, and continued to wipe down the bar.
I had to believe what I’d seen with my own eyes, but it wasn’t easy. What she’d done and the speed with which she’d done it, defied logic. But there she was, walking back toward me. And there went the busboy, lugging his refilled tray to the kitchen. And all I cared about were those bouncing breasts, seeming larger as they drew closer, annihilating my professionalism and independence with every step.
What’s wrong with you? This isn’t a fucking porn flick. It’s a job interview. Snap out of it!
Who was I fooling? Looking at her enormous tits, I knew she already had the job. The only thing left to discover was how big a fool I was going to make of myself before this night was over.
“Hope I didn’t scare you,” she said
She sounded like a different person and if I had to match this gentle, caring voice to a profession, JT was a kindergarten teacher.
You’re way out of your league. This woman’s a chameleon.
Her gun was again invisible beneath her jacket, but I knew it was there. Her sweet face had returned, but I remembered its stony resolve of moments ago. I was looking into the face of war’s remains and, as sad as that made me, I was also falling just a little bit in love.
“Would you mind watching the news in my room?”
“Not at all.”
She started out of the bar and across the lobby and I followed, noticing that her limp was more pronounced than before. I wanted to lift her up and carry her, pain free, to the ends of the earth. Instead, I said, “You’re obviously in a lot of pain. Wish I could help.”
She completely ignored me. Her back stiffened and she subjected her leg, flopping and dragging, to a bizarre militarized quick step.
She’s trying to get away from you. She doesn’t want your sympathy. Not one little bit. You’ve blown it, buddy!
I rushed to keep up. She didn’t look back or speak to me, and my heart broke. By the time JT marched into her room and dropped into a comfy armchair, I had regressed to puberty. I was a teenager in love - petrified, humiliated and utterly confused.
“Close the door,” she said, removing her gun and placing it on the side table. “I have a permit, but it’s never loaded. I just feel safer with it on my body.”
I felt relieved that the gun was a kind of prop.
“Make yourself a drink and bring me some water.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Ma’am?”
She laughed at me, but I couldn’t join in. I wasn’t being facetious. I’d stopped just short of calling her, ‘sir’.
I poured her water, took it to her and returned to the mini-bar to pour myself a short Scotch.
She pulled a pill box from her pocket, took out a yellow pill, and downed it.
“Diazepam,” she said, her voice emotionless. “I didn’t mean to be rude out there. Sometimes, I need all my concentration to get from point A to B.”
“Is there anything they can do?” I dared ask.
“No, it’s shrapnel. They’ve removed all they can. I’m learning to live with it.”
JT closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. I sat on a couch. The room smelled of Clorox and floral spray, a relief after the odour of paid for sex, stale smoke and beer that haunted a lot of motel rooms. Horns honked and traffic roared over a nearby highway. I was surprised and pleased that there was comfort and ease in the silence between us.
“I appreciated your concern out there, but I just can’t afford to engage when I’m on an important mission like making it back to my room.”
This time we both laughed and hers tinkled through the suite, octaves higher than her speaking voice. She threw one leg over an arm of her chair and unbuttoned her jacket. Her breasts ballooned under her blouse and along with her now open and welcoming crotch, they pulled at my deprived cock and made my old balls tingle. I was hopelessly in lust. My heart beat a retreat, my cock grew long and hard, and my head was swimming with delirium.
“What kinds of subjects interest you?”
“Let’s wait and see the show,” she said, getting up. “In fact, we have fifteen minutes yet. I’d like to slip into something more comfortable, if you don’t mind. Make yourself at home.”
Now she was the coquette, full of girlish promise. I walked out onto her tiny balcony. The immediate view was a parking lot, but the lake shimmered blue in the distance.
Who is this girl? Her parents? What narrative informed her choice to enlist?
The questions swirled around my brain and I realized that my need to know far outweighed any professional interests. I was blotto over this girl and I had no idea why. She had to be fifteen years my junior and I hardly knew her, and yet …
I went inside to get my drink and heard the shower running. I felt suddenly weary. I plopped down in a chair and closed my eyes.
“It’s time.”
My eyes flew open. I was lost in time and space, desperately stroking my dream-hardened cock through my tented pants. I’d been imagining lingerie, but got a pair of jeans and a breast enhancing white tank top instead. She looked delicious, beaming down at my beet red face, as I leaned forward in a futile attempt to hide my still-bourgeoning cock.
“Let’s get something out of the way. I know you love my tits,” she said, petting them affectionately, “and you certainly can’t help your dreams. Let’s forget about all of it and concentrate on my news clip. I need a job. That’s what we’re here for.”
She stretched out sideways on the couch, snapped up the remote control and turned on the television. She waited, enduring the lead in commercials with impatience. There was nobody in her universe, but herself. She lay on her side and her breasts settled themselves one atop the other. They created the most heavenly cleavage, reaching almost up to her chin. I was mesmerized.
Lolita popped into my head, and I was determined not to play Humbert, Humbert! I smoothed my bald spot and willed away my hard-on. I was an editor and determined to act like one.
I sat praying that her clip would be good, but I needn’t have worried. The clip started and ended, with five magic minutes in between.
“Wow,” I said. “Wow! Who’s on camera?”
“Jason Tucker. We served together. He used to work for the giant network, KFC, but he’s as fucked up as I am. Anyway, I love to write and he loves camera work, so we decided to team up. But forget Jason, what did you think of my spot?”
She’d sat bolt upright, her face childlike with anticipation, and I couldn’t help teasing her.
“Who’s decision was it to film in black and white?”
“Mine.”
“Jason’s close-ups were brilliantly effective.”
“Fuck Jason and fuck you,” she screamed, marching around the room, suddenly furious. “I should have known you wouldn’t hire me. All you care about are my tits. I. . .”
“Not another word,” I said, springing up. I stepped in front of her and took her by the shoulders, stopping her mid-stride. Her eyes were blurry with tears and I was sorry I’d toyed with her. “JT Needs To Know was great. Great! It will be a big hit and you, young lady, will be a big star.”
This girl has problems and, if you keep this up, they’ll be all yours.
“Really?”
She threw herself into my arms for a quick hug, pushed me back down, and danced with wild abandon around my chair. I was glad to see that her pill had worked its magic.
More,” she said.
“More? Okay, I accept your deal. You’re hired. Your desk will be waiting tomorrow.”
She climbed onto my lap and wound her arms around my neck. I don’t think she intentionally twisted to press her firm breasts into me, or meant to wiggle her firm ass so provocatively over my raging hard-on. But she did both and as she cuddled into my neck, her warm sweet breath melted my last vestige of resistance. I kissed the top of her head before laying her in my arms like a baby and kissing her cheek. In that moment, I loved her.
JT opened her green eyes wide before closing them and taking charge. She quickly straddled me and I felt like her pussy had engulfed my cock right through our clothes. She began to hum as she seduced my mouth with her tongue, dancing on my bone all the while. She squished her rubbery tits all over my chest and lit my fire. I kissed her back with all the pent up sexual rage of an old man who felt young again. I massaged and squeezed her breasts with horny, loving hands.
Suddenly, she stopped kissing me and withdrew. “More. Tell me more about my show,” she said.
My disappointment savaged me.
Pull yourself together. There’s no fool like an old fool.
“Then, you’ll have to get up. Right now. And behave yourself!”
She jumped up, still dancing.
“Let’s have dinner. Celebrate. I’ll change.”
I dropped some ice in my already watery drink and dropped into a chair, horny but weary to the bone. She was the wind and I was a sodden leaf, bumping along the rainy pavement in her wake and glad to have the pleasure. This woman and her tits had turned me into a wuss.
I sat there, feeling old and guilty as sin. I tried, without success, to focus on her wonderful spot, and it had been comprehensive and innocent and brave. She’d managed to present our three week old garbage strike in a way that made everybody involved - and I mean the union, the politicians, the city, the environmentalists, the mayor, health department, the whole fucking bunch of them - look like immoral, incompetent idiots, willing to put the whole country at risk for no good reason, except their inability to do their jobs.
We at the paper had been busy presenting all sides as fairly as we could. She put all sides in one self-serving boat and spoke for innocent children, children who had already faced the terror of SARS and flu strains without names. She questioned the measure of men who would put children in danger for a few pennies more. She suggested that maybe citizens should just stay home for a day and contemplate how to run a city that was trying to run them.
But all I could think about was the feel of her ass and pussy against my cock and the pressure of her huge tits all over my arms and front. I loved kisses and hers had been deep and dirty and wet, a delicious hors d'hoevre, but an hors d'hoevre nonetheless. And it had left me hungry, so hungry that I was unnerved, agitated.
I hoped that we’d have dinner somewhere close, so that she’d be more likely to ask me back here.
“Hi,” she said, twirling in front of me.
My eyes had been shut and I shook them into focus. JT was wearing a very short peasant dress that hung off her shoulders, grew tight at the waist, and flared gently on the bottom. Had she flashed me a hint of downy hair or ass cheek as she whirled, or was it my wishful thinking?
Not!
That enchanting bitch stood in front of me, lifting the biggest tit I’d ever seen high, but not out of her elastic top. She bent her legs slightly and her other hand reached between her legs. Her open, quivering mouth and flaring nostrils told me that she was making her pussy feel real good.
I watched mortified as a big wet stain spread across my tan trousers.
“I’m going to break your heart,” she said. “You want me so bad and I’m going to break your heart, again and again.”
She moved forward and dropped between my legs, spreading my knees. Her hair was loose and messy and her bangs just kissed her eyebrows. She was staring at my crotch, rubbing her palm over my leaking cock.
“I live in the moment. Had to learn to, to survive. Think of me as a whore. Somebody who’ll do anything for a story. You wouldn’t fall in love with a whore, would you?”
What had charmed me before, her total independence and unpredictability, was now frightening me and making me angry.
“If you were a whore, you’d have done this earlier. Seduced a job out of me. But you didn’t!”
She moved in tighter, pressing her massive balloons against my thighs. She was shifting her shoulders, manipulating them so they’d crest and ebb.
“Fucking you for a desk was always an option. I prefer the way I got the job, but it’s a no-brainer. I would have definitely fucked the job out of you. I knew that the minute you walked into the lobby,” she cooed.
I couldn’t take any more. I pushed her back onto the floor, crawling after her like a mad dog. I shoved my hand against her pussy. It was sopping wet and hot and breathed her pungent pussy smells into my air. I swooned as I tugged at her pussy lips and then opened them to tease the sides of her clit.
She wasn’t afraid to use her assets. She lay on her back, rubbing her giant orbs together, fisting her devouring cleavage, giving me what I’d always wanted. I thanked her by slipping a finger, and then two, inside her throbbing pussy.
“Do me! Take out your cock and do me. It’s been so long, I’m begging.”
“Whores don’t beg for cock,” I said.
“But they do this,” she said, grabbing a condom from her bra. “Now take it out,” she commanded.
I unzipped and pulled down both my slacks and boxers, so that she could place the thing over my proud, thick cock. Snap! It hurt so good and I was so ready that I lunged at her, pushing her back down and guiding my cock past her pretty pink gate.
How I fucked! I felt like a young stallion, withdrawing, slamming, withdrawing, plunging all my love deep inside her. I was a man fighting for his love life and I couldn’t fail. She might break my heart, but she would never leave me. I fucked her and fucked her until I saw her eyes cloud over and her hand sneak between her legs to complement my thrusts. And soon she was crying and groaning and rising to meet me, lifting high into me, until I gave in, spouting huge gobs of come into my rubber.
We collapsed, panting, and then snuggled into each other like puppies come to feed.
We lay tangled on the floor for a while, touching each other, getting to know each other.
“I’ll still break your heart.”
I could feel hers beating against mine, the heart of my beautiful, injured bird. And I loved her.
“I’ll never break yours,” I sighed. “I’ll always be waiting. Always be there to take care of you.”
“I could get used to that.”
The next day I was sitting in my office when Apollo waltzed in with JT on his arm. He called me out to the floor.
“I have two announcements to make,” he beamed. “First, thanks to this little missy, the garbage workers are back on the job! Secondly, I’ve nabbed her for our news team.” A loud cheer went up. “She was willing to work for free, just to learn from you bums, but what do you say we give her a big salary, just like yours?”
“Yeah, but don’t plan on buying anything with your big salary, JT. You’ll be mighty disappointed.”
They were staff, laughing together, and Apollo and I had been dismissed.
Through my glassed-in office, we watched as JT walked her staff-mates through her film processes and editorial choices. They were a happy hive of bees working toward a common goal. But she was Queen Bee, no matter how much I seemed to be boss, and I wondered about the roller coaster of adventures I’d just put into play.
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