Hubris of Youth

I had never thought of it like that. Now would be a good time to ease her mind.

"Savannah, I couldn't care less about what you do," I smiled, stopping to look her in the eyes. "When I said yes about dinner with you sometime, it's because I'd like to know Savannah the person, not Savannah Lynch, the celebrity. And my bed doesn't even have posts."

She snorted, then broke into laughter. Her smile was incredible.

"Too bad," she giggled. "How will you tie me down?"

My turn to laugh, although it did put a few enticing images in my mind.

"Okay. That was funny," she smiled. She tilted her head, thinking. "Tonight? Pick me up at the station at 7:30? I'm usually hungry after work."

Hungry for what? Food, or something much more fun? I thought.

"Fine. One question?" I nodded. "Where's the station?"

"I'm sure you can find it, if you want me," she giggled. Another parting wink, and she was off again.

If I want you? If I want you? Are you kidding?

"Come on, Sox. I've got some Googling to do."

***

At 7:30, the outer door to the TV station opened, and a blonde goddess stepped out. My jaw hit the floor.

Since discovering who my new friend was, I had watched the news a couple of times. It was hard to believe the woman on screen was the same one I saw on the street. I don't mean that in a bad way. Far from it.

The Savannah I knew from the street was very beautiful. Her attire left only the details to the imagination. That was great for ogling her and her spectacular body, but didn't give the proper impression of the woman inside her.

Savannah Lynch, co-anchor of the Channel Six News Team, was another matter entirely. Impeccably dressed and coiffed for each broadcast, she was far more than just sexy, or beautiful; she was radiant, to the point where I knew we would be attracting attention tonight.

She saw me and walked over, the distinctive click of her elegant stilettos drawing my attention downward. On the way back up, I took in her legs. Not the first time I saw them, of course, but the first time I saw them in heels, rather than Nikes. The shoes made them longer, more shapely, and devastating.

Perhaps those legs had an influence in Channel Six changing the set design for the news a few years ago. Gone was the desk, behind which one could conceal a multitude of fashion and physical deficiencies. The new set had her standing at a tall glass-top table which seemed to float on legs so narrow as to be invisible. No hiding anything behind that, not that she had anything to hide.

She was still wearing the dress from tonight's newscast; a royal blue number that fit her upper body quite snugly, then tumbled in a cascade of draped pleats down to just above her knees. Sleeveless, and with a wide, scooped neckline, it made sure you knew she was built, displaying a couple of inches of cleavage.

Her hair had gone from her workout ponytail to an elegant wave of gold, which was draped over her left shoulder, and either covered her breast, or led your eyes to it. Her lips were painted a deep red, and she was made up just enough to impress, with light eye shadow that complimented her blue eyes, and long lashes. She was wearing dark rimmed glasses, the only change from her on-air look.

I was still providing a home for flies, my mouth hanging open, when she reached me. She touched my chin, closing the gaping hole.

"Why, thank you," she smiled. "I haven't seen a gawk like that for years."

"Sorry, Savannah," I replied, cleaning up the drool. "I've never seen anyone so beautiful."

"Now that's a compliment I'll accept," she nodded.

"Nice disguise," I laughed, tapping my imaginary glasses. "No one could possibly recognize you."

"Yes, well, it works for Superman," she giggled, adjusting the black frames. "My contacts were hurting, so you get the geek version of Savannah tonight. I hope that's alright."

"I'll take any version of Savannah I can get," I smiled. "Even the sweaty one." I wasn't going for a sexual comment, but she spun it that way.

"Oooooooooo, if things go according to plan, I guarantee you'll get the sweaty one," she breathed seductively.

Down boy. Save it for after dinner, I told my suddenly very interested penis.

"Where are we eating?" I asked, stepping around the comment.

"How about Delicioso, on Third? I'm feeling Italian, and it's nice and private there. We can talk."

I extended my elbow, and she took it, letting me walk her around to the passenger side of the car.

"Hey Mr. Mechanic? Is this a '67 Mustang?" she asked, as we navigated around.

"Good eye," I replied. "Yes. She's no Eleanor, but it's still a work in progress. It'll get there."

In a few minutes, it got us to the restaurant, and Savannah was back on my arm as the manager seated us. She was right about this place. Sparsely occupied and dimly lit, we would have some privacy. At last, we could have a real conversation.

"So, you must get this question all the time, but... what's it like reporting the news, anyway?" I asked, breaking the ice.

"Well, if you really want to know..." she smiled, sipping her water, "... it's not as glamorous as you'd think. The whole entertainment industry is not as glamorous as it appears. After a while, it's just a job, like any other."

"Entertainment industry?" I questioned. "I thought you did the news?"

"Oh honey," she said seriously, putting her glass down and leaning forward. She rested her chest on the edge of the table. "If you think they aren't one and the same, I'll be disappointed. I thought you were smart enough to see through the bullshit."

"Could you elaborate?" I suggested.

"It's a long story," she gestured. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes, I do. We have all night," I told her.

"Alright. You asked for it," she smiled. I had hoped she would tell me more about herself, and how she got started... and when. All I had to do is listen.

Savannah really was a font of knowledge. The story began waaaaaay back, seemingly just this side of the dinosaurs. There was a time when the news actually meant something. There was a time when spreading important information was, well, important.

Advertising was the beginning of the change.

"It starts with a commercial break, then before you know it, the whole show is sponsored by a company with an agenda," she said. "The implied threat is enough to make objectivity difficult."

"Then those advertisers figured out what they had. Radio led to TV, and TV became our biggest form of entertainment. More viewers means more bang for your advertising dollar, and more attractive people on screen means more viewers," she intoned. "It doesn't matter whether it's a movie, or a news broadcast... the face on screen telling the story has become more important than the story itself, or the truth for that matter."

She stopped, and sat back. During our conversation, our drinks had arrived. She picked hers up.

"Sometimes, I really hate this world," she sighed.

"You know... I started as a weather girl?" she giggled. "Twenty years ago. It was an entry level position, and sexist as hell. 'Here's our resident bimbo to tell you if you need an umbrella tomorrow. Check her out.' I was too young and stupid to catch on."

Okay, twenty years... So she's probably forty, at least.

"It didn't take long for the station management to start grooming a new bimbo to take my place, but fortunately, it was because they wanted me more involved, and more visible, not because they were tired of me. I was a star!" she gasped with a flourish.

"I was soon behind the desk, first for the late show, then weekends, and at last, every night," she smiled. "I was happy enough. I didn't realize how brutal this business could be for women."

"You mean getting hit on?" I asked her.

"Well, yeah, that goes without saying," she nodded. "I was actually referring to the image requirements. Gain weight, you're out. Get pregnant... Out. Get old... Out!"

"I thought that type of discrimination was illegal," I replied.

"Yeah... According to the government, and the women's liberation movement, it is. Officially, it is, but that's what lawyers are for," she growled. "There's nothing a court can pass that a corporate lawyer can't find a way around. It's all in the wording of the employment agreement."

"So if you don't want to lose your job..." I began.

"... You have to remain young and pretty forever," she grinned. "Or at least, for longer than humanly possible."

"How old are you, Savannah?" I asked quietly. "I know I shouldn't ask, and the answer really won't change anything, but..."

"Forty-two," she smiled, raising her glass, "next week. At least, parts of me are. Some are only six."

"Happy Birthday!" I laughed. I leaned closer. "Would it help if I said I thought you were thirty?"

"That's very sweet," she smiled. "The doctor did good work. Probably bought me another five years. Eight, if I'm careful."

"Why did you do it?" I asked. She laughed, and looked at me funny.

"Right. You're only twenty-five. You haven't figured out women yet, have you? Honey, there isn't a woman alive who wouldn't stay young looking if she could, especially those in the public eye, or those who once were naturally attractive. For most women, that choice is out of their hands. For me, it wasn't, and in this business, it's almost a given."

"If I'm not being indelicate," I ventured, "What did he do?"

"Bet when you asked to know more about Savannah, you didn't think you'd get all this, did you?" she asked. "Oh, what the hell. A nip here, a tuck there, a little lipo over there... boobs, of course. Why not get the whole package? So Savannah, version 1.0... 34C, 140 pounds, a little worn around the edges and soft from sitting behind the desk... becomes version 2.0. Stronger, leaner, apparently more youthful, and good for another few years. 125 pounds, and up three cup sizes, in case you're wondering."

I didn't need the numbers to tell me she was ripped, stacked, and beautiful. I had come to that conclusion the first time I saw her, bouncing past me at full stride.

"You don't need to do that," I said gently.

"Do what?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Keep trying to convince me that you're beautiful. I can see that you are beautiful," I smiled, softening the comment. I hoped she wasn't insulted. "Savannah, may I speak freely?"

"Absolutely," she smiled, sitting back. Still, she crossed her arms across her chest, in a defiant posture.

"I think you may be proceeding from a false assumption," I began. "You said yourself that most guys want to nail you because of who you are..."

"I think I actually said they notch their bedposts," she giggled, "but I get your point. Go ahead."

"Yes, right... well, I already told you I don't care about who you are... publicly I mean. I only care about you as a woman. You're not a trophy to me."

"I take back what I said before," she said softly, her demeanour relaxing. "You know women better than I thought. Thank you, Nick. I suppose I've ruined things between us, haven't I? You must think I'm the most shallow, conceited form of life on the planet, doing what I've done just to stay young and keep a job?"

She obviously wanted me to contradict her. I didn't make her wait.

"Savannah," I smiled, touching her hand, "no. Of course you haven't. As for your motives, well, it's pretty easy to judge from outside, isn't it? I have no idea what I'd do if I was a woman in your industry, and your situation. Probably just what you did, for the same reasons. I don't think you're shallow or conceited. While I wish I could have known the Savannah that was here before you had surgery, I have to admit, the new Savannah is pretty hot."

Dinner arrived, just in time to allow both of us to digest what had been said. We ate in silence, until she reached out and touched my hand, returning my gesture.

"You're a pretty special man, Nick. I've been around long enough to see some things, but you surprised me," she smiled. "I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, Savannah," I replied, holding her hand. It was warm, and soft, and feminine. "No apologies, no excuses. Just be you. So, how was your day? Anything interesting to, um, report?"

Savannah laughed.

"A reporter joke? That was pretty good. Well, no, not really. Same old, same old, unless you count Braxton staring at my chest all day. Actually, that's not news either," she frowned.

"Actually, I can kind of understand him doing that," I laughed. "It's rather impressive."

Savannah looked down at her breasts. She adjusted the fit of her dress across them.

"I'm good with 'impressive'. I always thought I'd look better bigger," she said, looking up from them.

"Well, I don't know what you looked like before, but I think you look great," I grinned.

"Right. So we have a consensus," she nodded, picking up her glass for a toast. I raised mine, and touched it to hers. "Here's to big tits!" she giggled.

"The dress is nice, too," I noted.

"Isn't it? I must admit, they are giving me much nicer stuff to wear since the set change, and since the 'me' change. At least they gave me enough warning."

I was a little lost on that one, so she elaborated.

"When they wanted to do the set change, we ran a few tests, with Braxton and me standing. It wasn't pretty, but the set wasn't ready yet, so both of us had time to get into better shape," she explained. "He had less to do, since he wasn't wearing shorts for the broadcast. I had my surgery to improve my overall look, started running to tighten up everything else, and by the time we had to unveil the 'new look' news set... "

"... You were ready with your 'new look'," I smiled.

"Yes," she nodded. "I suppose I should be grateful. They spurred me into action. I'm much healthier now than I was."

"Mmmmm, yes, much... healthier," I laughed, letting my eyes fall to her cleavage.

"All right, you!" she giggled. "Now you're just being silly!"

"You started it," I replied still staring at her tits.

"Nick?" she smiled.

"Just making a point. You're much more than the contents of your bra," I smiled, looking into her eyes. She relaxed, and we spent the rest of dinner talking less about her upgraded body, and more about the potential for us to have a future.

Thankfully, it appeared we just might.

***

On the way into the restaurant, it had been very quiet, and I hadn't noticed too many eyes on us. As we left, however, there were far more people having a late dinner, and far more eyes drawn to the buxom blonde beauty on my arm. It's difficult to say whether those eyes were there because they recognized her, or just because she was just so damned sexy.

It felt good having such a beautiful woman on my arm. I could think of several other body parts she would feel good on.

We arrived at the car, and I opened the door for her. Before she sat, she turned to face me.

"Thank you, Nick," she said softly, with a smile. "That was a lovely dinner. May I?"

The sparkle in her eyes shone through, even in the darkness, as she tiptoed, and kissed me gently. It was just an introductory kiss, slightly more than a peck, but less than a tonsillectomy. Her lips were soft, and delicious. The kiss also afforded me a chance to hold her. She was very firm, and fit.

Once she was safely inside the car, I scooted around to the driver's side.

"Where are we headed now?" I asked her. She rolled her head in my direction to answer.

"McAllister Terrace," she said softly. "Second floor, west bedroom."

I looked at her, deep into her eyes. She gazed back, waiting for me to start the car and go.

"I'll take you home," I replied, starting the ignition.

She was quiet on the way home, as though deep in thought. Within minutes, we were in her driveway.

"Are you coming in?" she asked softly.

"No," I replied. "Not tonight."

"You don't find me attractive?" she sniffed.

"Savannah... Of course I find you attractive!" I gasped. "Don't be foolish. There's nothing I'd rather do than spend the night exploring every nook and cranny of your body."

"Then why?" she asked.

"Because if I did, in the morning, I'd be just like all the other guys who have you as a notch on their bedposts. I don't want to be that," I smiled. "I'd like to be more."

"Really?" she smiled, her tears abated. "I think I'd like that too. You're sure you won't come in? I'm feeling frisky."

"Yes, I'm sure," I laughed. "I'm feeling the same way. For tonight, we'll both have to settle for cold showers. Deal?"

"Okay," she pouted. "I'm sure you're right, but at the moment, my libido doesn't see it that way. May I kiss you in thanks now, since you won't be with me when I come to that conclusion?"

"It's not just a trick to entice me into bed, is it?" I asked.

"No tongue. I promise," she smiled, holding her scout fingers up, and crossing her heart.

"Okay. I'll risk it," I grinned.

It was a nice kiss.

Just a little tongue, as a sampler.

***

The morning after, I woke from dreams filled with Savannah's body. I guess we know which way my subconscious was leaning on the subject of joining her in bed, the next time the opportunity arose.

Assuming it did, of course. In an effort to treat her with respect, I may have insulted her, and blown any chance I had to savour her company horizontally. Worst case scenario, I might have to start the whole process over again, begging her forgiveness.

Best case? Well, let's just say I might survive it.

It was very early, well before sunrise, while I was in the shower. My mind was wandering to thoughts of her voluptuous body. My dick was hard as a rock, reminding me that I had a chance to sample that body last night, but chose to pass.

I was beginning to doubt that strategy, but it was done. Worrying about it now was foolish.

My schedule had me up and out before most people began their day, so I rarely hit any traffic. The other advantage had me home before rush hour started, and that's partly how I met Savannah in the first place, as she liked to run around that time.

All day long, I kept thinking about her. I'm sure I wasn't very efficient at work, but since I don't turn a lot of wrenches myself, it probably didn't matter much. I even ducked out a few minutes early. I had to know.

As soon as I got home, I put the leash on Sox and off we went. I know it was too early for her usual run, but I wanted to be out there, just in case. We crossed the road, went left, took the first right, and found ourselves at the top of the hill.

There she was, dressed in hot pink today, waiting for us at the second side street. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was anxious.

I walked Sox a lot faster than usual, and noticed that Savannah was coming in our direction. When we met, she gave me a big smile, and turned back toward the corner she had been waiting at.

"Follow me," she said softly, "Please."

That smile told me I had nothing to fear, so I did, catching up to her quickly. This block was a cul-de-sac, and ended short of a small ravine, which Savannah led us down and through.

"Shortcut to my place," she explained, without my asking. We came up the other side, and she gestured to the right. "See?"

Shortcut indeed. There was her house, and a nice house it was. All I saw last night was the driveway in the dark, so I was really seeing it for the first time.

"Wow. So the news business pays well, huh?" I laughed, taking in the two storey building and yard. Easily 3000 square feet, it was an awful lot of house for one woman.

"Yes it does, but this is mostly from my divorce. I got the house, and he got the brunette bimbo. He turned out to be a bigger misogynist than Braxton Barnes," she smiled. "Come inside, please. My backyard is well fenced, so Sox can play out there safely." She fished the key out of her bra, and unlocked the door.