Where was Blaze?
Would she be back?
Was it for good, or just a vacation?
Why did she leave?
Who would replace her, surely not the clown that was on now?
When the answer came, one radio after the other clicked off, leaving the L.A. station with the lowest ratings since before Blaze strolled in and took over. The California night suddenly became empty and cold because Blaze Alexander’s deep, sultry voice had been silenced.
* * * *
Later on that night, William Perkins, the owner of the L.A. station, stormed into Barry Schorr’s office carrying a sheet of paper in his hand. Leaning over Barry’s desk, he slapped it down and pointed at a line just below Barry’s typewritten name. Barry picked up a pen, then looked at it briefly before signing.
When he saw what it was, he looked up at Mr. Perkins with a curious frown. “Will, this is my resignation.”
“You’re right.” The man looked at the former station manager with angry eyes, and with a sarcastic twist of his lips, he said, “Just sign it with the same hand that lost us Blaze Alexander!”
Suddenly filling up with anger, Barry stood to his feet and roared, “Why the hell are you firing me? She was the one that ran out, breaking a five-year contract!”
“She didn’t break it, Barry. You broke it when you stuck your hand up her skirt. That’s sexual harassment in case you don’t know it. I’ve been on the phone with Scott Sanders, and we’re damned lucky she’s not suing the station!” His eyes captured Barry’s and tunneled into them unmercifully while his voice dropped threateningly. “Now, sign!”
Barry leaned down and scratched out his signature on the thin line, then flung it into the face of the station owner. Moving around the office quickly, he picked up a box and began throwing his belongings into it.
With every item he packed, he remembered the day he had her pinned to the couch. She had sent him over the edge with her hot, sultry voice whispering in his ear night after night. Now, while banging around his office grabbing one thing, and then the other, he could feel a black fury building. With a deep, guttural growl, he muttered to himself, “I’ll get you, bitch. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll find you, and I’ll get you!”
Chapter 3
The minute Greg saw Blaze, he almost lost his breath.
She was all decked out in tight jeans, western boots, and a snap-up western blouse covered with fringes. He fully appreciated her full breasts, and the nice way her pants hugged her body. Her bright red hair hung in spiral curls halfway down her back and was on the frizzy side, and her eyes sparkled with green fire.
She’s cute, he thought, and easily a free spirit, but why in hell was she all dressed up like a rodeo star?
When he casually made reference to it, Blaze blew up. “If you don’t like the way I’m dressed, Bozo, then turn your fuckin’ head so you don’t have to look at me!”
He put his hands up in defense. “Hey, as long as you put on a show, you can come to the station naked.”
Throwing the pen down after she’d scribbled her name, she looked up at him with a sneer and yelled, “You wish!” She immediately whirled on her heels like a Texas tornado, and walked out.
Hearing the heels of Blaze’s boots echo down the hall, Bran Farewell, the station owner looked over at Greg, his eyes wide with apprehension. “My God, we’ve got a tiger by the tail! I just hope to hell she’s worth it!” Wiping sweat from his pudgy face, he walked to the door, looked out at Blaze’s receding figure, then turned back to Greg. “I didn’t even get a chance to welcome her to the station.”
“Good thing,” Greg said, “she would have probably taken it as something sexual, and you’d be bleeding all over my office.”
“Well, let me know how things go,” he said, while sneaking out slowly and leaving Greg with the nasty problem of having to deal with their redheaded bombshell.
As soon as Mr. Farewell left, Wade appeared. Greg’s stabbing gaze quickly leveled on him. “This is your fault,” he spat, pointing at Wade accusingly. “You have to go on vacation in L.A., and bring back the daughter of the friggin’ anti-Christ!”
Wade smiled. “Cute little devil, ain’t she?”
“Yeah, real cute,” Greg said, sarcastically. “About as cute as a rattler ready to strike. If we look real close, I’m sure we’ll find 666 carved into her scalp somewhere.”
“Been seein’ too many of them freaky movies, my friend,” Wade said as he sauntered in and dropped down on the couch.
Greg threw him a dirty look, then turned, went behind his desk, and sat down. “God, I hate redheads!”
“Well, I think you could make an exception for this one, couldn’t you? I mean she is sort of easy on the eyes, and that body of hers is pageant material.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Yeah, sure, and God don’t make little green apples.”
Greg gave him a scathing look. “I should have known you wouldn’t miss anything. And that’s didn’t.”
“When does she go on? It’s don’t.”
“Tonight at midnight. It’s didn’t!”
“Don’t!”
“Didn’t!”
“Don’t, but who the hell cares?” His impish gaze locked on Greg. “Wanna make a bet?”
“What? About apples?”
“Greg,” Wade said while looking at his friend pityingly, “is anybody at home up there?”
“Well then, what? I’m not a freakin’ mind reader. Say what you mean!”
“You’re sure in one hell of a mood.”
“You would be too if you’d just been chewed up and spit out by Dracula’s daughter. Now what in hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Vampira, Einstein,” Wade said as he walked over to Greg’s large plate glass window between his office and the bull pen, and looked through it. When he saw that the coast was clear, he turned back to Greg, his voice barely above a whisper. “We both hit on her to see which one gets her. The winner gets a date, plus one hundred dollars.” Suddenly his eyes danced mischievously. “Oh, yeah,” he said as if he’d forgotten something. “The winner comes back and reports every detail of his date to the other. Agreed?”
“Are you kidding? She wouldn’t go out with either of us. She’s a man-hater!”
“But don’t you see? That’s what makes it interesting.”
“I’m telling you, she won’t give either of us a tumble.”
“She’s a woman, isn’t she? Doesn’t she have needs like the rest of us?”
“Needs? You mean go to bed with her?”
“Needs? You mean go to bed with her?” Wade mimicked. “Hell, yes. What did you think I meant?”
“You said a date. You didn’t say anything about sleeping with her.”
“Duh!” Wade said, imitating an imbecile, then looked at Greg impatiently. “My God, man, couldn’t you force yourself?”
“No, man, we can’t do it. She left her other job because the station manager got fresh with her.”
“Greg, we’re not going to take her behind the copy machine and touch her where we’re not supposed to. We make ourselves so appealing, she consents to go out with one of us, and bingo!
Greg was silent for a time, then began thinking and rubbing his chin nervously. “I don’t know, man, if she ever finds out about this, she’ll have our asses for lunch.”
Wade watched as Greg rose from his desk and began pacing back and forth. Watching as long as he could, he finally began following him. “Man, I never thought I’d see you back away from a hot chick like that. She blows smoke in your face one time, and you’re ready to run.”
Greg finally stopped pacing, and turned to Wade. “Sure, go ahead and make fun. It’s no risk for you, but I’ve got my friggin’ job to think about. Besides, I’m really not interested. You can have her, and I hope you’ll all be very happy.”
“All? What do you mean, all?”
“You, her, and all your little devil b
abies!”
* * * *
While a commercial was on, the previous deejay slipped out, and Blaze slipped in. She put on her headphones, examined the console, then looked out at the sound man.
“In three, two…” He quickly pointed at her and said, “You’re on the air!”
Blaze lowered her mouth to the microphone as if she were going to eat it, and her deep, dark, smoky voice echoed through the airwaves, soft and warm.
“Hello, Savannah. If that little ol’ needle on your radio is pointing up to 103.5, then don’t move it, sweetheart. You’ve just tuned in to Station KCBS in good old Savannah, GA. This is Blaze Alexander, your Queen of Steam and I’m going to be here from midnight to dawn, just for you.”
“God, what a voice,” Greg mumbled as he stared with amazement through the glass at the beautiful redhead operating the console.
“Come on, you sweet sinners, I’m here for the night, so how about you and I get to know each other real well.”
Blaze reached around and put on some music while her dark, soothing voice continued mesmerizing the night owls of Savannah.
“Mix a drink, cuddle a little, and get comfortable, because I’m your playmate for tonight.”
A sexy chuckle slid out her mouth.
“What’s that I hear out there? Heavy breathing? Ohhhh, not now, handsome, wait for lil’ ol’ Blaze!”
Greg’s eyes widened at the veiled suggestions she was making. Turning, he went back into his office and turned on his radio, listening closely as Blaze’s suggestive remarks set fire to the airwaves.
“The other night, a cop stopped me. I asked him, ‘What’s the matter, darlin’, did you get lonely?’ He didn’t say anything, just started actin’ real tough, you know? He grabbed me and leaned me over the car.” She emitted a deep, raspy chuckle. “He didn’t fool me. I knew what he was up to. After he put the cuffs on me, he said, real official like, You’ll have to come quietly. When I saw how well he filled out that uniform, I had to tell him, I’m real sorry, darlin’, but I never…come quietly.”
Greg almost swallowed his tongue. He jumped up, slammed out of his office, and ran toward the glass cubicle that surrounded her console. When he got there, he began swinging his arms to get her attention.
Blaze looked up at Greg’s horrified face.
“Hey, sugar, listen to the music a while and I’ll be right back, okay? Someone’s tryin’ to get my attention.” Looking at Greg in anger, she clenched her teeth while trying to maintain an air of seduction, and leaned even closer to the microphone. “Mmmm, I love it when they follow me everywhere I go.”
She quickly jumped up and opened the door. “What in hell do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of my show?”
“Show? This isn’t a show, it’s pornography, pure and simple.”
“What have I said that couldn’t be said over the air in the bright light of day? Have I used any foul language?”
“No, not in so many words. But there have been suggestions, innuendoes. And what about that dirty…”
“As long as I don’t say ‘fuck’ on the air, Bucko, you’re safe. Now let me get back to my audience before I lose them.” She turned and slammed back into the booth. As she slid down into her seat, she cast a nasty look in Greg’s direction.
“Hey, lover, your Queen of Steam is back, and to make up for makin’ you wait for me, I promise I’m gonna make you real happy.”
While she and Greg made loathsome eye contact with each other, she slowly and sensuously continued to soothe the unsuspecting city of Savannah into a sex-induced coma.
* * * *
Greg fumed. She apparently wasn’t going to cool it down, so he turned around and slammed back into his office. He paced back and forth, combing through his hair with his fingers. “That damned bitch is going to get me fired, I just know it.”
When Wade had told him he would be surprised, he expected something wild, but sex on the air hadn’t occurred to him. And that music. To anyone else, it was instrumental blues or jazz, but somehow in her expert hands, it became music to fuck by! Smooth horns became slow hands, thrusts, moans, and groans. And if the population didn’t have an imagination of its own, she supplied it for them by describing the act in suggestive words without going over the line. He’d never heard anything like it. She might be big in California, New York, or Chicago, but she was just too damned hot for a straight-laced city like Savannah. He jerked his head around and looked at his radio, as her voice became a soft, seductive moan.
“Yessss! Ohhh, that’s good. Ohh, yes!”
God! Greg thought, bringing his hands up and lacing his fingers through his hair. The whole city of Savannah is having an orgy with this woman! His nerves were on edge. He looked toward the door repeatedly, expecting to see Bran Farewell barging in at any moment. He tried to tame his arousal while trying to figure out what to do, but he couldn’t concentrate with her, deep, sliding voice, her off-color jokes, and her metaphorical words intruding on his thoughts.
Finally, he gave up and sat down, leaning close to the radio. It didn’t take long for him to succumb to the carnal spell, and like the rest of the city, he allowed the voice, the words, and the sliding music of the Queen of Steam to bathe him in an erotic fantasy.
* * * *
As soon as the show was over, Blaze gave the microphone up to the next deejay, and came out of the booth. She met Greg on her way out, and as she approached him, she hesitated for a moment. She knew she had won the war when she saw his disheveled appearance. He was bathed in sweat, his shirt unbuttoned and halfway out of his jeans, and his hair was sticking out in all directions. When she saw his tie hanging limp around his neck, she tightened her lips, trying to keep from laughing. As she passed him, she couldn’t resist flipping the loosely hanging tie and saying sarcastically, “Always nice to meet a fan.”
* * * *
Los Angeles
The next day, Barry Schorr stood in a phone booth in front of a liquor store in L.A. He was feeding change into the small round holes, determined to find the slut who cost him his job and make her pay.
Finally, the phone rang at the other end, and a tiny, young voice answered, “Entertainment by Sanders.”
“Let me talk to Scott,” Barry growled.
She didn’t reply, just connected him.
“Yes,” the voice said, sounding preoccupied.
“Okay, Scott, where the hell is she? I’ve been watching her house for days, and she’s not there. Did she leave L.A.?”
Scott stopped what he was doing and looked up when he heard the deep, guttural voice of Barry Schorr. “Barry, you know I can’t give you that information.”
“Well, somebody had better give it to me, and give it to me quick. That little slut cost me my job, and by God, she’s gonna pay!”
“Look, you bastard, if you don’t want the cops crawlin’ down your throat, you’ll stop all these threats. Blaze’s suffered enough at your hands, and it’s over. Got it? Over!”
Barry pulled the receiver away from his ear and hit it several times against the black square box secured to the wall of the booth.
Scott heard the loud noise and pulled the receiver away from his ear. When it stopped, he gradually brought it back, and listened.
“Did you hear that Sanders? That’s gonna be somebody’s head unless I get what I want!”
“Blaze is not coming back, so get over it, creep!” he yelled into the phone, then slammed it down.
When Barry heard Scott hang up on him, he angrily slammed the phone back down in the hanger. He plunged his hand in his pocket and dug out some more coins and began feeding them into the change slot. While it rang, he decided to use a different approach.
“Entertainment by Sanders,” the young voice said.
“Hello, Melanie,” Barry said, struggling to be pleasant. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Hi, Mr. Schorr.”
He heard her chewing gum, but tried to ignore it. “Hey, let me talk to Scott, okay
?”
“He’s not here,” she said, still chomping, “he had to—”
“Not there?” Barry yelled angrily. “I just got through talking to the…” Suddenly, Barry caught himself, and forced himself to soften his voice. “I just got through talking to him.”
“He left right after he hung up. He had a meeting across town and won’t be back today.”
“What a shame.” Barry’s voice dripped with pretense. “Well, Melanie, I guess it’ll have to be you.”
“What do you mean?” the girl said, a worried frown appearing on her face.
“I want you to tell me where Blaze Alexander is. Did she leave town?”
“Mr. Schorr,” she said while taking a big, impatient breath, “I can’t give you that information, you know that.”
“Sure you can,” he said with sickening sweetness.
“No, really I can’t. I’d lose my job.”
Barry fantasized having his hands around her neck. “You know, Melanie, ever since I first saw you, I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out.”
A girlish giggle came bubbling out of Melanie’s mouth, and her young face flushed with embarrassment.
“So, how about it?”
“Mr. Schorr,” she began, her giggle lowering to a soft whisper. “I can’t go out with you.”
“Don’t you like me?”
“Well…sure, but…”
When it sounded like she might be changing her mind, Barry jumped in. “All right, so you won’t go out with me. To soothe my broken heart, how about giving me the information about Blaze? You wouldn’t say no to a dying man, would you?”
She giggled again as if it were all a big joke. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
When he heard her reply, Barry’s anger spiraled to savage intensity. With clenched teeth and the continued pretense of a pleasant voice, he asked, “What time do you get off, Melanie?”
“Five…but…”
Click
* * * *
At about four-forty, Melanie thought she saw something move out in the hall, but it was hard to see. Some of the offices were closed already, leaving the halls shadowed. The lights around the elevators were on a timer, and late in the day all, except those in the very middle, clicked off. The subdued lighting left the corners draped in darkness. She narrowed her gaze as she raked the area carefully, and felt a stab of fear when she saw a man standing in a shadow watching her.
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