Unsatiated with Dad's Best Friend: Taboo Romance

by Ami Snow

  Winona leaned back in her chair as Spencer finally tore his eyes away from her generous twins, fumbling around his drawers for a set of forms. She played with the edge of the temporary ID hanging around her neck, a subtle smile playing on her lips. This internship was about to get interesting.

  Chapter Three –

  Winona crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her hair slightly tousling against the grained surface, peeking through the sliver of space between the production supervisors. Spencer sat behind a desk next to his co-anchor, Stephanie Lindley, a large, green screen backdrop set behind the postured pair. Winona clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she watched the last three minutes of live airtime.

  Spencer Flynn was just one of those who was simply blessed with the hands of time, not only aging gracefully, but professedly gaining sex appeal as the years dragged on. Winona watched in admiration as he winded down the segment, inescapably drawn to his the striking, ivy green of his irises, accentuated by the dozen or so beams of lights cast upon the news anchors. She lifted her heels off the ground, balancing on the tips of her toes, her chest tingling as Spencer signed off for the evening, never failing to do his quirky, subtle nose-scrunch as he bade the audience a good night. She fell back to the ground, the crowd automatically dispersing at the bark of the director's cut.

  Winona rifled through her purse and pulled out a warm thermos as she smiled nervously at the cold, irate stares of the crew members as she inched past them. She made her way towards the dimmed set, now only lit by the weak glows of the two remaining lights of the overhanging lighting bulbs. As she approached Spencer from behind, who stood hunched over the desk, his fingertips skimming rapidly across his script, she let her eyes settle on the silhouette of his surprisingly tight, sculpted cheeks, visible through the slit-pockets of his fitted dress slacks. Skeptical to break his trance, Winona wordlessly set the thermos upon the desk, next to his script.

  “What – Hey, Winona, sorry, I'm a little distracted today – I think I'm coming down with something. What's this?”

  “Ginseng tea,” Winona replied, leaning over to remove the lid. The potent pungency of the Asian root steamed out of the thermos. “I went down to this cool little Korean restaurant down the corner during lunch break. It's supposedly soothing for your throat.”

  Spencer's eyes twinkled as he reached for the cup and took a long sip, the faint wrinkle between his thick, heavily-angled eyebrows deepening. “That's – stronger than I expected.”

  “Right, I should've warned you,” Winona laughed, tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth, “I've grown accustomed to the taste. Kimmie, our housekeeper growing up, used to feed this to me whenever I came down with the flu. Used to hate it but I now have a soft spot for that weird aftertaste.”

  “Thanks, Winona – you didn't have to. This is real sweet of you.”

  “It's not a big deal, really. So what're you working on? Everyone else has packed up and gone home –”

  “Right, we're done for the day. You should head on home – I'm always one of the last to leave around here, I've got a habit of looking over a few things I could've done better –”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Winona slowly inched towards him. She leaned towards his script, the warm curves of her breasts delicately brushing against his hand. She looked up at him with rounded, innocent eyes, purring, “Like what? Cause I've been observing all night and I thought you were amazing – as usual.”

  Winona rose, turning around slowly, rubbing the curves of her hips against Spencer's immobilized hand. She continued, wetting her lips as his shoulders visibly stiffened, “I've gotta say – I've always had this little crush on you growing up that's just never went away. I watch you on TV every single night – still do, and it needs to be said – watching you live is absolutely surreal.”

  Behind her frames, Winona batted her long lashes seductively, her innocent eyes now narrowed and smoldering, soundlessly egging him on. She leaned forward, her warm breath beating down on the exposed flesh of his neck above his collar. Breathing a drawn-out, sultry sigh, she traced her finger down his crisp button-down, moaning audibly as she felt the panty-moistening dents of his astoundingly chiseled chest.

  Spencer finally found his voice, whispering gruffly, “Winona – I –”

  Winona looked up at him, her fingertips now on his trembling, slimly parted lips, “What's wrong, Mr. Flynn? Do you want me to stop?”

  Spencer looked straight into her eyes, flicking his tongue slowly against her pointed finger. He shuddered, running his tongue down her finger, tasting her. Winona yelped as he coiled his finger around the ID cord around her neck and pulled her close to him, groaning softly into her mouth as his arm wandered to the back of her dress, grabbing a handful of her fleshy, bountiful cheeks.

  Spencer flicked off the buttons to her blouse with his thumb, exposing her sheer white demi-cups, the heavy, ample mounds of her olive-kissed breasts almost pouring out of the cups of her bra. The bead of sweat on the dimple above Winona's lip quivered, arching her back as Spencer prodded at her supple breasts, gently removing them from the folded cups. He lifted her left breast with both his hands, glancing up at her as his tongue enslaved her hypnotizing, caramel-tinged nipple.

  Spencer pulled away from her sheeny nipple, his features darkening as he turned her over and positioned her over the desk. Winona's fingernails scraped into the wood of the table as she strengthened her grip, trilling underneath her breath as he unfurled her pantyhose behind her, the silky fabric gathering around her kneecaps. There was a faint clicking of Spencer's unbuckling belt, her heart hammering against her chest as she felt the naked tip of his cock probing lightly against the warm, sticky folds of her dangerously wet cunt. Her eyes fluttered to a close, a purring moan slipping out of her lips as she relished the mind-numbingly amazing sensation of his bare pole propelling in and out of her aching folds. Winona's bouncing breasts clapped against each other as he thrusted in and out of her, her lips contorting from her puttering breaths and her strenuous attempts to keep her pleasured peeps to a minimum.

  Winona's eyes shot open abruptly, the single red light from the camera directed straight towards them, catching her attention. She jerked upwards, much to Spencer's dismay, a dose of his creamy emissions trailing down his thigh. Winona's bulging eyes darted towards his leg before quickly pointing towards the camera. Spencer squinted towards the device, knitting his brows. He buckled his slacks and glided towards the camera swiftly, shutting it off.

  From the other end of the feed, Kara shook violently in her seat, seething with rage. Her nostrils flared as she bolted out of her chair, wrenching the director's headphones off her head and launched it against the wall in a huff, the innocent mechanism splintering into over a dozen little pieces.

  Chapter Four –

  Winona bit into her udon noodles and fed herself a spoonful of savory broth. She sat across Rhonda, who was busy slurping the soup from her own beef ramen bowl, bits of her kinky hair dipping into the brownish stock. The pair sat in a booth at a charming Japanese noodle shop two blocks from the lofty commercial buildings of Channel 8, where they settled for the rest of their lunch break.

  “That was so good, my hair wanted some too,” quipped Rhonda, grinning sheepishly as she dabbed at her dampened hair with a napkin.

  “Best udon noodles I've ever had,” said Winona, smiling weakly as she twirled the noodles around her chopsticks.

  “Uh-huh,” said Rhonda, raising her eyebrows, “And yet you've barely touched it.”

  “I don't know – my appetite's been all over the place this week.”

  “You sure it's not the toxic work environment at Channel 8? I was – well, a little less than hysterical when I first started out here. It's not Mr. Flynn, is it? He can be a bit intense at times, but he's always been a real gentleman –”

  The corners of Winona's lips twitched, the space between her legs pulsing lightly as the image of Spencer's roving hands flashed across h
er mind. She reassured Rhonda, “No – it's not that, everything's been pretty great. Mr. Flynn's a great mentor. Well, on second thought – it's probably all in my head but does Kara Marsh have a bone to pick with me? She looks at me like I've pissed in her coffee.”

  “Kara?” Rhonda snorted, shaking her head, “She's just one of those women who despises other women, for simply, well, not being her. And that's just with other women waiting in line with her at the grocery store. If I know Kara – and believe me, I do – she'd be lurking at every corner, just prowling and stalking you, calculating her next move.”

  Winona's eyes widened, “What? Why?”

  Rhonda raised her eyebrows, amused, “Haven't you heard? Kara and Mr. Flynn dated for over a year – wreaked absolute havoc on us all. They broke up about a month ago but it's pretty obvious she's not over him, seeing as how he ended things with her. And in case you haven't caught on yet – I was joking. She's a grade-A, certified bitch, but she's harmless.”

  “You certainly speak very highly of her,” said Winona ironically, her eyes glimmering, “Honestly, she doesn't sound any different from the shitty clique girls I had to deal with back in high school. No biggie.”

  “That's the spirit,” Rhonda responded flatly, her smile faltering. The warmth in her eyes was swiftly replaced with a glowering look, “She's head writer – specifically everything for Mr. Flynn. In fact, that's how they kicked things off. In addition to being a complete bitch, Kara's a talentless fraud, too – but you know, life – we can't always win.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I mean I've been writing for her for over a year now – ever since I started out. It's – don't judge me –”

  “I wasn't going to,” said Winona, her voice hushed, nodding, “And I'm assuming she takes the credit?”

  “Yup,” Rhonda shrugged, forcing a weak smile, “She's been helping me out with tuition fees for graduate school, so...”

  “Tit for tat,” finished Winona, tightening her lips, “Say no more. You don't have to explain yourself to me.”

  “Right – I don't even know why I told you. It does feel pretty damn good to let it out after all this time though. But Winona, please –”

  “I won't tell a soul. Promise.”

  “I appreciate that, Winona. I really do. Now come on, let's split the check and head on back.”

  Winona and Rhonda chattered away as they ascended the stone steps towards the front doors of the building. Lost in light-hearted, trivial conversation about the latest episode of a trashy reality show, the pair walked right past Kara's figure in her signature red, resting against the window next to the trashcans, her lips sourly puckered around her cigarette. Kara flicked her cigarette into the bin and stomped towards the cheerful duo. Flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder exaggeratedly, Kara squeezed in front of them. Before slithering into the open space, Kara stiffened her fingers around the edge of the door and leaned into Winona's ear, the gentle breeze of her whisper tickling her earlobes.

  “You better watch your fucking back, slut. I know what you did.”

  Kara shot her a final, deathly glare and slid inside the building. Rhonda's eyes bugged out, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  The insides of Winona's palms began to perspire. She managed a feeble smile, shrugging, “No idea. Come on. Let's go inside.”

  Chapter Five –

  Winona propped herself up against the wall, clasping her clipboard of notes to her chest as she attempted to catch her breath. Her head had been throbbing nonstop since she rolled out of bed that morning, refusing to subside even with the pungent salves slathered on her temples, aspirins and hot, detoxifying teas. The bottom of her sleek, moussed ponytail loosened, drops of sweat clinging to the bottom of her ponytail, dripping down the nape of her neck. Winona breathed out of her mouth slowly, glimpsing at her peers, who all seemed to be perfectly cool under the icy breeze of the air-conditioning vents above them. She fanned herself with her clipboard, ignoring the odd stares of the crew members as they scuttled around the stage, preparing for the eight o'clock segment.

  Winona's stomach churned, the tea and undigested bits of the banana walnut muffin she had for breakfast evidently not sitting well. She set her clipboard down on the floor, whispering curt apologies as she pushed past the irked production members. She burst through the bathroom door and kicked in the door to an empty stall. Tears sprang into her eyes as she retched into the bowl, the stall door behind her swinging to a close. Gasping for breath, Winona rose shakily from the toilet bowl and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She exited the stall, stopping short in her tracks.

  Kara was gazing adoringly into her own reflection in the spotless, horizontal mirror by the sinks, a tube of lipstick in her hand. She glanced at Winona's pallid complexion through the mirror, a twisted, impudent smile forming on her lips. Kara slipped the tube of lipstick back into her cosmetics pouch and lifted a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

  “The binge diet is a little dated, don't you think?” Kara drawled, adjusting the pearls around her neck.

  “I'm not –” Winona protested, heaving a sigh, her eyes flashing, “And this catty high school business you insist on pulling on me is really not a good look for you. I'm not even going to pretend I'm in the mood for your snarky bullshit.”

  Kara turned on her heel, her eyes narrowed, snarling, “I don't know who you think you are, talking to me like that, but we run things a little differently around here. I'm sick of you twenty-somethings waltzing in here trying to take things from those of us who actually work for it –”

  “Work is a rich word, isn't it?” Winona retorted, her eyes challenging.

  “I – I – don't know what you mean,” stuttered Kara, for once, seeming to lose her composure, “I don't have time for this.”

  Winona grinned triumphantly to herself as Kara stormed out of the bathroom, her heels squeaking against the tiles. She turned towards the open stall, her eyes focusing on the string of a used tampon, caught between the lid of the trashcan. Her fingers trembled as she touched her stomach, the light fuzz on her arms and neck standing erect.

  Winona thanked the cashier, her heart pounding in her chest as he stuffed the box of a home pregnancy test into a brown bag. She crumpled the bag in her hands and tossed it into her purse, her eyes darting from side to side as she exited the drugstore. Her unnecessary paranoia arose within her, compelled to watch her surroundings like a hawk. She sped down the steps of a subway station and proceeded towards the women's bathroom, clutching her purse close to her.

  Winona waited patiently outside the closed door of an occupied stall, nervously tapping her toes against the grubby tiles. Her ears perked, the dulcet tinkling of a little girl's laughter echoing across the bathroom. For one fleeting moment, her breath tightened in her throat, catching a glimpse of the cotton candy pink of the little girl's tutu from the corner of her eye. Upon taking another gander at the little girl, Winona's shoulders slackened, privately rebuking herself for the sinking feeling in her chest.

  “Excuse me, Miss? Were you next in line or are you just waiting for someone?”

  Winona snapped out of her daze, turning towards the irritated teenager behind her. She looked towards the empty stall in front of her, bowing apologetically, “Right – sorry. I'll be right out.”

  Winona locked the door behind her and snatched the box out of her purse with her quavering hands. She tore the box open and removed the pregnancy test from the silver packet, taking a deep breath as she crouched down onto the toilet bowl, holding the stick against the steady stream. She shook the stick dry over the bowl, leaning against the graffitied walls of the stall. The minutes dragged on as Winona waited, gnawing at her tendering bottom lip. A series of blunt knockings sounded against the closed door.

  “Keep your damn panties on,” Winona snapped, “There's someone in here. I'll be right –”

  Winona's voice trailed off, her eyes widening as they z
eroed in on the result window of the pregnancy test, her knuckle paling around the thumb grip. Her lips slowly parted, the thoughts in her head blanking completely as the second blue line gradually materialized into a clear, unmistakable positive.

  Chapter Six –

  Spencer glanced down at his stack of papers, his eyes poring over the segment run-through as two make-up artists stood on either side of him, attacking his face with various-sized brushes dipped in powder. Engrossed in a story about an attempted school shooting, he was oblivious when the make-up artists paused, turning towards the open door of his dressing room. He eventually glanced up at his reflection, his eyebrows slightly peaking as he noticed Winona's hovering figure by the doorway.

  “Stella, Patty, thanks, I think that'll do for now. I'll come find you for a touch-up before we go live.”

  The women nodded, their expressions void of emotion as they slipped past Winona out the door, leaving the pair on their own. The corners of Spencer's lips stretched into a sexy smile, biting down on his bottom lip as Winona closed the door behind him.

  Winona brushed a hand against her stomach, her knees wobbling as she teetered towards him uncertainly. She swiveled her tongue around her cracking lips, swallowing as she strove to organize the tumbling thoughts in her head. Spencer crossed the room briskly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he snaked his arms around her thick waist. She softened in his vigorous hold, her fingertips tracing against the white, ironed sleeves of his locked arms.

  “I – I have to tell you something –”

  Spencer grinned, catching her earlobe with the tip of his tongue. He guided her towards the wall, nibbling on her earlobe, caressing her breasts through her blouse with his hands. He whispered in her ear, “Can't it wait? God, you're so fucking irresistible.” He tossed a few throw pillows out of the way and sat her down on his beige camelback sofa, wresting her legs open with surprising force. Winona panted, the tips of her aroused, erect nipples tickling at the intense, almost manic look of lust beset in Spencer's sparkling, deep green eyes.