I can’t help but look at the scene unfolding before me. There are two people on the bike, decked out in leather and black helmets. The driver turns the bike off and slips the helmet off, hanging it on a handlebar, and I am more than a little shocked to see long black hair tumble over broad shoulders. I think it’s actually Harper Kingsley but I’m not certain from here and I’m trying hard not to stare.

The passenger follows suit, handing over her helmet, revealing shoulder length curly hair in a mute chestnut shade. The driver hangs it off the other handlebar and then completely turns around so she’s straddling the bike backwards. She pulls the other woman to her and proceeds to devour her.

I’m sure I scrape my chin on the pavement of the sidewalk before I manage to close my mouth. The kiss is wild and passionate, each woman moving hands erotically, tongues obviously seeking and plunging. Saliva can be seen draped between them as they part for breath. As if this display isn’t quite enough, the dark-haired woman grabs her companion’s thighs, lifting them over her own, dragging the smaller body so close that they are now touching completely along their torsos.

The smaller woman is losing it, I can tell as I come closer. She is pressing against the driver’s body, practically humping her right there on the street and though I find it disgusting on some level, I must find it erotic on another because there is a pulsing deep within me that I often try to ignore.

Glancing around, I’m relieved to see I’m not the only one staring. The show is quite amazing; I think the passenger may have actually orgasmed as her gyrations slow and the kisses lose steam. The taller woman is murmuring something, grinning rakishly, and she looks around to the growing crowd. It is Harper Kingsley and I am even more repulsed now. There’s something else inside me, maybe jealousy that Harper has the ability to so freely display herself when I do not. It certainly isn’t jealousy for the Biker Bitch who is now stumbling to her feet and being steadied by large hands.

I am merely yards from them when, much to my amazement, Harper hails a cab. She gives the woman a last, long, lingering kiss and tucks her into the back seat. When the cab pulls away, she waves to the small audience without even a hint of shame, and she turns my way briefly.

Her eyes are even more amazing off screen and they meet mine, stopping there for just a moment. Then she winks at me and smirks before continuing her stroll into the station, through the large glass doors, into the lobby beyond.

Jesus Christ. So many things are running through my mind but the first thing that really hits me is how horny I suddenly am. Being soundly closeted and a bit more than paranoid at being discovered, I don’t indulge often. Well, with another person, that is. The blatant display before me has left my libido tap dancing and rattling its cage. It isn’t until I’ve completely acknowledged my own state that I realize what else has just happened.

She walked into the station. My station. No, no, no. This can’t be good.

To say I have friends at the station is less an understatement and more a blatant lie. The truth is I don’t have friends at all, aside from Erik, and I have enemies at the station. I’ve earned them, I won’t argue that. Sometimes you have to step on other people’s fingers when you climb the ladder and I’ve never been shy about doing it. I may have even stepped on a few heads on the way up but I never apologize. I’m good at what I do and I know it. I’m on the fast track and I have little time or tolerance for those in the passing lane going under the speed limit. Get out of my way or get run over. It’s a good philosophy and has served me well.

Just like every other morning, I get the normal glares and contemptuous mutters as I walk through the newsroom towards my office. I’m basically ignoring Gail as she rattles on and fills my arms with folders. She has matched her stride to mine and follows me into the office, blabbering on and on even as I switch on the televisions and take my seat. Finally, when I remind her about the tea, she shuts up and leaves my office. I glance through the partially closed blinds across the newsroom towards Chambers’ office. The door is closed and his shutters pulled. Harper was nowhere in the newsroom and that doesn’t bode well. She’s in there with him, I know it.

And I also know that the station has finally sold out to the corporation and Armageddon is nigh. I’m ready to drown myself in the cup of Earl Grey when Gail brings it back but I can’t figure out how to get both my nose and mouth into the mug and inhale enough of the liquid to bring my demise. So, after close scrutiny that has Gail standing confused in the doorway with a wrinkled nose, I give up and take a sip of the soothing liquid instead.

It dawns on me when Gail leaves this time that she did actually say something important. Running the one-sided conversation back through my mind, I remember her saying that Chambers wants to see me half an hour before the production meeting, in his office.

I ponder this revelation for a moment. He could be firing me in an effort to make the transition to trash media go more smoothly since I am very vocal about my hatred towards it but it wouldn’t be wise. The contract he holds has me stuck here for just over another year and the severance would be a hefty sum to the station. I made sure of it when I signed the contract two years ago. If they were going to shove me in the closet with that morals clause and staple my butt to the seat for three years, they sure as hell were going to have as hard a time breaking the contract as I would have.

So that isn’t likely. Maybe he wants to break this Harper shit to me ahead of time and then ask I not come to the production meeting. I grin at the thought, tapping a well-sharpened wooden pencil on the edge of my mug. I sure could cause hell at the meeting, I love to do that and Chambers knows it. He’s broken news to me in this manner before so I decide that must be it. I have no control over whom they hire as camera anyway so I shrug it off and open a folder, determined to get some work done and to stop thinking about the dark-haired exhibitionist in my boss’s office.


* * *

Chambers is more beefy than he should be even though his towering height manages to shelter a good bit of his extra weight. His hair is silvery and we were all grateful when he finally quit dyeing it late last year. I think his wife was doing it for him, or he was going to a beauty school, because the shades he came back with varied between purple and shit brown though we always told him it looked great. He stands before me now with his hands folded in the small of his back. He’s behind his desk and I think he may actually be hoping it provides him some protection.

I have already had the conversation in my mind and am ready to react calmly and surprise him. I like to keep him guessing. He only thinks I’m always ready to fly off half-cocked. The truth is there is very little I do that has not been considered and planned. So I know that he will tell me Harper is now working camera and that we’re stepping up to the challenge of our competitors. The worst he could tell me is that she’s doing camera on my newscast but I’m betting that she’ll be special assignment and live feed. Otherwise her previous experience would be wasted here in the studio. I figure I’ll just nod my head and smile at him and make a calm retreat. That’ll shock him.

He asks me to close the door and I do, leaning my back against it, crossing my ankles casually. I chose emerald green silk this morning and I know it flatters my vibrant eyes and my golden hair. I know this because I’ve been color typed and wardrobed so often that there is very little in my closet that I chose myself.

"Have a seat, Kelsey," Chambers offers nervously.

I shake my head once. "Feel like standing, thanks."

"All right," he nods but I can tell he’s disappointed. Either I’m less imposing seated or he desperately wants to sit himself, I can’t decide which.

"We’ve had a formatting change."

I nod, meeting his eyes. Odd choice of words, I decide. Not an ‘addition to the staff’ or some such mundane phrase.

"Harper Kingsley has signed with us to head up our special assignments. She’ll be director and camera lead for our field work and our away crews."

I nod again. Sounds like a good opportunity for her. If she didn’t make my skin crawl, I would be happy for her.

Chambers takes a deep breath and suddenly I realize there’s more going on here. I clamp down on the unexpected nervousness in my gut and narrow my eyes at him. "What else?"

"Uh … she requested a full time reporter to round out her team. Someone who would go on locations and do the live feeds."

I don’t like where this conversation is leading and my expression must show it because he starts talking even faster.

"We looked at the staff and knew that we needed someone with a lot of experience and good presence, someone the public already knows and likes. We chose you," he blurted at last.

"You’re taking me off anchor?" I ask slowly.

He nods.

"My contract states-"

"Your contract allows for this shift, Kelsey," he interrupts me. "Believe me, we made sure of that before we even approached you."

I wonder vaguely if he has a mouse in his pocket or if his weight problem has finally taken on a separate identity to warrant the plural pronoun he insists on using. "You’re demoting me?" My voice is low and dangerous.

"No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "This is a great opportunity for you. You get more exposure, more field experience. It will improve station ratings and make you a sure bet for the anchor in New York."