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"What a bitch!" he exclaimed, looking at his cheap watch for the tenth time. They were both supposed to be on location at eight a.m. "Where the hell is she?" he complained.
A taxi quickly drove up beside his own car and a blonde waved to him from the back seat. He watched impatiently as she discussed payment with the taxi driver and then handed over some bills. He had to admit she was photogenic. The television cameras absolutely loved her. She had long, blonde hair with enough curl in it to give her an unprepared look, or perhaps it was a 'just rolled over in bed' look. Her eyes were light green. Her lips were red and full. She would never win a national beauty contest, but even without make-up she stood out. As she let herself out of the cab he got a glimpse of her long legs. "Damn!" he quietly swore. She was wearing tight jeans that, unfortunately for him, covered her lovely legs, but they were tight enough to emphasize her round, firm butt. She was definitely not some skinny model, but she was not overweight either. Her bottom had a little padding and other than that her tits were about the only visible store of fat on her. Clearly she didn't need to wear a bra. He believed the rumours that her breasts were all silicone; they just looked too firm to be natural.
He took another appraising look at the woman as she stretched to grab her bags from the back of the taxi. Today she wore a loose fitting, almost transparent, white top that looked to be made of lace. The front had a double or triple layer of material down the middle to make it opaque. It was tied up over her chest with a white string dangling down to her navel. The top offered a nice view of her cleavage, but she kept the string tied tightly enough that even if she bent over no one would see much more of her breasts.
As the taxi raced off, she calmly walked over to the impatient man. He was in his late thirties and wore jeans and a t-shirt with Led Zeppelin written across it. The shirt was torn on one of the sleeves and his jeans were loose and unfashionably faded.
She offered him her hand and performed her camera-freezing smile. "Hi, I'm Jolee Rider. You're Wilson, the cameraman?" Her voice was higher than average for a woman, but not squeaky. He remembered that she was well known for her TV voice, which was a little huskier than her normal talking voice.
While grumbling he wondered, who the hell did she think he was, standing here waiting in the appointed spot holding a heavy and expensive video camera in his hand? "Yeah, that's me. You're two hours late."
Her smile disappeared. "I'm sorry. It couldn't be helped. Some of the girls..."
"I don't give a damn," he interrupted.
That was the problem with the TV business, she thought, no one really gave a damn about anyone or anything. She had stayed up until two a.m. listening to a long sob story from one of the contestants. Jolee had done what she could to encourage the young woman to continue with the contest. After all, the quarter million dollar grand prize for the winner was nothing to sneeze at.
"So, are you ready? The producer told me the girls will all be going to that dark three-storey building across the street," he asked as he lit a cigarette
"You're not actually going to smoke that, are you?"
He gave her a dirty look, then cast the lit cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his shoe. "So I guess you're ready, then." It was a statement and not a question. He lifted the camera up to his shoulder and started recording video of the street and the outside of the building. It was a Monday so there was some traffic, but this wasn't a big city and they weren't near the business core; so it would be a simple enough matter to walk directly across to the building.
He had been warned about her by other people on the show. Jolee Rider might seem all warm and cuddly and look like the type of woman you'd pay big money to sleep with, but she was an ice-queen. A few guys had tried to chat her up and she had shot them down mercilessly. The contestants seemed to like her, though, and the viewers certainly did. He thought it odd that the contestants, all pretty young women and similar in age to Jolee, didn't treat her like a rival. In fact, they were all quite friendly with the show's hostess. He hadn't seen anything like it in his twenty-odd years in the business. Usually young women like the contestants were all catty with a host like Jolee Rider, being envious of her face and body, and hoping one day to replace her.
Jolee grabbed the filming instructions from her bag and then reconsidered reading them. Wilson seemed to want to get on to business right away and her comment about the cigarette probably made him think she was prepared, even though she was not. She gave him a small smile to try to make him warm up to her.
She always seemed to have trouble with men in this business. The first producer she met fucked her over, literally. He wined and dined her and told her she was guaranteed a spot on his show. He seemed really smitten with her, but it was all an act. The day before the filming started he announced another girl had gotten the job; and from the long kiss that the two had in front of the cameras, Jolee had deduced that the producer had been sleeping with that girl as well.