I work as a videographer for a small market ABC affiliate in the Midwest. Where exactly is not important, but it is an area that will be significantly affected by the soon to be imposed import tariffs. It's largely a rural area with a lot of agriculture, about 40% of which is exported, and will take a big hit partly from the tariffs, and partly because the commodity prices are down to their lowest levels in a decade as a result. As if this were not enough, there are also a couple of sizeable manufacturing plants that use aluminum and steel. These operations will also be negatively affected. Gauging the reactions to these now international economic forces has drawn attention to the area, which the news media have caught on to. As a result, we've been getting some interest from the national network, enough that they decided to send none other than Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent Martha Raddatz to come and do a couple of segments here.
Someone was going to get to ride with her to assist in getting the story. I've had a thing for Martha for a long time. While she doesn't have the sleek form of Diane Sawyer, her slender frame and silky blonde hair have always captivated me. I figured if I were ever going to get to meet her, this was my chance. I pulled some seniority, and volunteered to be her cameraman while she was in town. This was gratefully received by station management, since they knew I would give her a good feel for the area, as well as a professional job in the field.
The day came for Martha to arrive, and I went out to the airport to meet her mid day arrival. I caught her coming down the stairs from the arrival concourse, seeing her before she saw me. She looked sweet in a pair of jeans and a black button down shirt. I could see her small tits bouncing as she came down the stairs, and wondered if she was wearing a bra. My cock stirred at the thought of Martha's braless tits swaying freely as we spent the afternoon together. I waved, and our eyes met. She smiled and waved, and I greeted her as she reached the bottom of the steps.
After our brief introduction, we went to collect her bags from the carousel. I was standing to her left, watching for her case, and a carry on that had been stowed on the puddle jumper plane they use at this airport. I saw them come down the chute together, and told Martha, I'll grab the big one, you get the carry on. As she leaned to get her smaller bag, I got a quick glimpse into her shirt as it fell away from her body. I was right on, and I watched her small, hanging right breast sway as she reached for her bag. This is going to be a fun assignment, I thought to myself.
We walked out to the station's van, where I stowed her stuff, and we got on the road. Our first visit was going to be a factory that made aluminum wheels for the auto industry. They were looking at a double whammy, since they used imported aluminum to make their product, and sold a fair amount of it to Ford and GM assembly plants in Canada, so they were looking at tariffs on both imports and exports. The possibility of layoffs and lost business in the next year was looming large there. I offered to take Martha to lunch, but time was tight, and she suggested we might just have time for grab and go. She thanked me for the offer, putting her hand on my arm as she spoke. Her skin was soft, and I once again felt a twinge of excitement. Lunch turned out to be Subway. It wasn't gourmet, but Martha allowed that after having MRE's in Iraq and Afghanistan, it might as well be.
When we got to the wheel plant, we found George, our station manager, there waiting for us. He had not mentioned he was going along on this assignment, but I wasn't entirely surprised to see him, since we didn't have such notable guests, well, ever; he was also friends with the plant GM. "Just what I need," I thought, "a star struck station manager tagging along." I didn't expect Martha was going to jump me in the van, but whatever chance I had of any alone time was vanishing quickly. We'd had a nice chat on the way to the wheel plant, and were finding we enjoyed each other's company for the first half hour of her visit.
I looked at Martha as we drove up to the plant. "The boss is here," I said to her. "He'll probably want to monopolize your time now that you're here."
Martha looked at him, then me. "We'll see," she said, smiling at me. "I get this fairly often. The local stations don't get to see us network 'big shots' that much, and the local managers tend to get star struck. I can usually work around them. I spoke to him when I found out I was coming here. Hopefully he doesn't want to follow me around like a puppy." I laughed. "Besides, I'd rather spend the time with the production people. They know how to get the work done." Martha again put her hand on my right forearm. "And they're usually more fun to be around." She squeezed my arm and smiled. I don't usually read too much into physical contact such as this. Most people don't mean much by it, it's just a friendly touch, and I don't want to let myself get fooled into thinking that because a woman is hands on, it means she has any interest beyond just conversation. But it seemed Martha was reaching out to me a lot more than I could expect for someone she just met. I wasn't complaining!!
Martha got out to greet George, and I waited in the van. A moment later, she was back, telling me to follow George into the plant, and we'd set up there. We got to our spot, and I did some background video, as well as a stand up with Martha and the plant manager. Then we went in and I shot some video of Martha talking to plant workers as they voiced their thoughts on the tariff situation. In all, we were there about an hour. At the end, we packed up, thanked our hosts, said our goodbyes, and went on to our next location, a steel mill that was expecting to be hit hard by retaliatory export tariffs.
I expected that Martha would be riding with George, so was surprised when she climbed up in the van with me. "You're not riding with the boss??"
Martha smiled. "Nah. I told him I wanted to review some of the video while we went to the next place."
I laughed. "How'd he take being blown off??" I asked, knowing George could sometimes be temperamental, though I was betting his boss had told him to be on his best behavior.
"I could tell he wasn't really happy about it, but he didn't put up a fuss," said Martha, with a chuckle. Then she got a serious look. "The bad news is, he wants to take me to dinner. That, I think, is an offer I can't refuse."
I laughed. "I imagine not. But then, you're the guest of honor, so I suppose he has first dibs. Besides, he outranks me. I'd probably be more fun though."
"I have no doubt. And I'd probably eat better, too."
"So, you going to check some of that video??"
"Nah," said Martha, looking at me and smiling. "I just used that as an excuse to come ride with you." She put her hand on my arm again. Our eyes met. It seemed like we were suddenly looking into each other's souls. Maybe this gentle touch wasn't so innocent after all.
It was about a twenty minute drive to the steel plant, during which Martha and I talked like long lost friends. We were finding we shared a lot of the same thoughts on the world and had very similar outlooks, we had a wide ranging taste in music, as well as our sense of humor being almost dead on. It was a short twenty minutes, and we wished it had been longer.
We met George at the plant gate. The visit to the steel mill was much like the wheel plant, though more specific to that industry's plight. It took about 90 minutes, after which we went back to the station so Martha could do some editing before she went to dinner. We worked together on the computer, Martha often standing over me as we reviewed our work. When she was standing, she almost always had her hand on my back or my shoulder. Sometimes she'd lean toward the monitor as she looked closely for something, and her luxurious blonde hair would brush against me, the wonderful aroma of conditioner mixed with just a hint of perfume filling my nostrils. It was all I could do not to just take her face in my hand, pull her to me and kiss her deeply.
We finished up our editing, and I took Martha back to her hotel so she could change for dinner. As I dropped her off, she leaned into my car. I caught a glimpse of her small, droopy tits as she leaned toward me from the passenger side. I was enjoying the view, even with them being in shadow. Despite being small breasted, she had fairly good sized areolae, and what appeared to be long nipples. I wondered how much they'd grow if sucked on. Martha didn't seem to be in any hurry to get back to her room, and I had the pleasure of seeing her tits for several minutes. We arranged that I would pick her up around 8 the next morning, and we'd head out to more rural parts of the area for the second part of her report. She reached for me, and I took her hand, kissing it. She laughed and told me I was a charmer. I told her to enjoy her dinner.
I got to the hotel a little before eight then next morning, walking into the lobby to meet Martha. She was already down in the lobby sipping coffee and chewing on a Danish as she perused USA Today, under the blare of a TV playing Fox News. Somehow, she seemed to be absorbing it all, which didn't really surprise me. She reached under her paper and handed me a Danish. "Here, breakfast on me," she said, smiling. I thanked her, resisting the temptation to kiss the top of her head. Instead I just smiled and joined her.
We finished up our light breakfast and packed up. "You might want to get a refill on that. We have a 30 minute drive or so to our first stop."
"Oh, OK, thanks," said Martha, putting her hand on my shoulder as she stood. Now sufficiently supplied, we went to the van for the ride to our first farm. As we had the day before, we had a grand time telling stories of everything from our lives as kids to the oddities of professional life in broadcasting. We seemed to be developing a real closeness.
We did a couple of interviews with farmers in an area that grew a lot of soybeans, a commodity that was expected to take a big hit when the tariffs kicked in, and which had also seen a marked decline in the price over the last year. I loved watching Martha out in a breezy soybean field, in dark blue jeans and a light denim shirt, her hair blowing every which way but where she wanted it. I teased her about it later when we got back in the van.
"You look a little windblown," I said, smiling at her disheveled appearance. "That will make you a network star."
