Lisa Marvell had always done everything that was expected of her, and every decision she made was calculated to help advance her career. She worked hard in college and got her degree in journalism. Although she grew up in the age of MySpace and later Facebook, she was always carefully not to post anything that could come back to haunt her in the future. She had had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing serious. Since college, she faithfully followed her career plan, starting at a small cable station in the upper Midwest and, methodically moving up the broadcasting ladder, and changing jobs every few years as she advanced gradually to larger and larger markets. Yet here she was at 32, in her third year of co-anchoring the local news at an upstate station and watching the ratings slowly decline against two aggressively marketed, more smartly produced competitors. It was time to take matters into her own hands.
She was an attractive 5' 8" natural blonde. Knowing that the camera always adds 10 pounds to you, she visited the gym at least five days a week to maintain her svelte 125 pound frame. She was proud of her 34B-25-34 figure but (recalling the advice of one of her female mentors in college not to oversell the merchandise) was careful to select on-air outfits that didn't overly emphasize her curves. She had come to understand that most newscasters embody an odd mixture of shyness (hiding behind other people's words) and show-off (after all, they had chosen careers that had them on camera and in the public eye every day).
Her attractive appearance and winning personality had helped give the station's ratings a boost when she first arrived and was paired with long-time co-anchor Art Robinson. But over the months as they worked together, Lisa came to realize that Art was way past his prime. He had become a "local institution," but as a reporter, he had lost all instincts for the heart of a story and frequently offered only inane banter during the ad lib comments that they were required to supply between stories. Increasingly Lisa felt she was doing all the real work, showing up hours before the broadcast and staying late to watch the tapes and look for ways to improve. She had had several conversations with the producer and the station manager, but both seemed powerless to do anything about Art. And both continually bemoaned the lack of support from the owners to add more staff and upgrade the set and studio equipment.
It was after one of these conversations in late January, during a particularly bad stretch of cold and snowy weather when everyone seemed to be suffering from a prolonged case of post-holiday blues, that Lisa first hit upon her idea. Why not do something a little different for the late night news? She and Art co-anchored both the 6:00 and 11:00 reports, and Lisa knew that viewership shifted to a somewhat older and more male-dominated demographics for the later show. She looked around the industry and saw that women 10 to 15 years older than herself were being replaced by broadcasters who suddenly seemed noticeably younger than Lisa. "I'm tired of always playing it safe and following the rules" she thought to herself. "It's time to call some attention to the real talent around here. And if the station doesn't like it, well maybe the audience will."
The next morning was a Friday, and she was due at the studio a half hour earlier than usual to shoot some 30-second promos for the feature stories planned for next week. She pulled together her usual accessories -- hair brush, comb, make-up kit -- and reached out to grab the two outfits she had already picked out that for that night's shows -- the bright blue suit and skirt for the early broadcast and smartly tailored black pants and gray shapeless high-neck sweater for the 11:00 news. "No, no," she thought to herself, "that will never do." And with a mischievous grin, she took the sweater off the hanger and replaced it with a green pullover cotton top.
As usual, the day went quickly. The first broadcast was uneventful although Art seemed particularly flat and lifeless. But when she went out to grab a quick dinner with some of the crew, she found she could only eat half her salad. Her stomach was in knots, almost like the first time she ever went on camera -- a strange mix of nervousness and exhilaration. Back at the studio, she tried to stick to the routine of reviewing script changes and news items that would be added for the late broadcast. But she found herself easily distracted and once or twice realized that someone was in the middle of a question to her and she had no idea what they were talking about.
By 10:45, she was sitting in her usual backstage chair as Kelly, her assistant, touched up her make-up and inspected her hair. "Is everything alright, Lisa?" she asked. "You seem quiet tonight. Are you okay?"
"Never better," Lisa replied, and realized she was determined to prove that was true! "Kelly, be a doll and leave my bag near the little girl's room. I may need to duck out during a break tonight." The assistant nodded, never guessing what Lisa's real intentions were.
At 10:59, she slipped into the chair alongside Art, did a last minute check of her hair and looked up into the camera. She heard the floor manager start to countdown from 10, and whispered to herself, "Okay, world, time for the new Lisa." With that the red light came on and the broadcast began.
The first 20 minutes flew by; perhaps it was a rush of adrenalin, but Lisa's reading was flawless and lively, with an energy level that frequently was missing on the last broadcast of the week. But as the weather forecast concluded and they cut to a commercial, she could feel the tension forming a knot in the pit of her stomach. Coming back from the break, Lisa delivered the brief introduction for the next segment. "And now, with the late night sports, here's our own Tim Willis." She knew she had at least four minutes before she'd be on camera again, so she leaned over and whispered to Art, "Sorry but I have to make a quick trip to the ladies room. I'll be right back."
Unclipping her mike and silently slipping out of her chair, she was in the bathroom within 30 seconds. There was no time to think or second guess her actions as she deftly reached under her top and unsnapped her bra. Without completely removing her pullover, she managed to slip the straps down her arms and pull her bra off. Looking around, she noticed her bag in the corner where Kelly had left it and she hurriedly shoved her undergarment in it. Pulling her top back down and smoothing it out, she checked herself out in the mirror.
A quick look of frustration passed across her face; she couldn't notice any change in her appearance. "Hmm, this will never do," she thought, and quickly reached back under her top to pinch her nipples. Feeling her sensitive nubs respond to the twisting and teasing, she once again adjusted her top and hurried back to the anchor desk just as Tim wrapped up a story about a high school basketball player.
"Back to you, Art and Lisa," she heard the sportscaster say, as the camera came back on the co-anchors.
"A very interesting young man, wouldn't you say, Lisa," Art responded.
The camera cut to Lisa, and she looked up directly into it wondering how many thousands were now watching her. "Yes, indeed, Art. It sounds like he has some great things in front of him," Lisa said, with a sly smile lighting up her face. "And I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more in the future."
As the camera panned back, Lisa glanced at the monitor and had to exercise all of her self-control to avoid gasping aloud. What hadn't been apparent in the dimmer lights of the ladies room was now plainly revealed under the bright lights of the studio. Her erect nipples were clearly straining against the form-fitting green top, poking out and slightly upward as if to confirm the perky, firm shape of her breasts.
Knowing that the camera angle had probably now widened to show both her and Art, she turned to face him while slightly arching her back, presenting a side view to the home audience. "So, Art, a great note to end the week on. Tim's forecast tells us that more cold and snow is on the way, but we can't let that keep us sitting at home all covered up." She tend proceeded to rattle off an obligatory list of weekend events around town ending with a reminder for viewers to join them again next week at 6:00 and 11:00 for the evening news.
The credits began to roll, and following the normal routine, she and Art stood there engaging in small talk. However, as soon as the camera switched off and the lights were cut, Lisa hurriedly excused herself and rushed back to the ladies room. Once there with the door safely locked, she retrieved her bra and put it back on. She then returned to the studio, where already the crew was starting to pack up and head home for the weekend. She quickly said goodnight, checked in with Kelly to wish her a good weekend, and headed out the door.
Returning home, she flipped on the TV and checked her DVR. As usual, she had programmed the machine to record both the 6:00 and 11:00 shows, but tonight she fast-forwarded immediately to those last few minutes of the late broadcast. If anything, her nipples seemed even more prominent on the HD screen in front of her than they had in the studio monitor. The clearly erect nubs almost seemed to be poking through the green fabric, their contour and shape easy to discern. "Well," thought Lisa, "as she snapped off the TV and poured herself a glass of wine, "mission accomplished."
*****
When she arrived at the studio on Monday, it didn't take long for Bill Reinhart, her producer, to track her down and invite her into his office for a chat. "Well, Lisa," he began, "it seems you had a bit of wardrobe malfunction the other night. There were a number of voice messages and emails that the station manager picked up this morning, and he's already been on the phone to me about them."
"Oh really," replied Lisa, trying her best to sound genuinely curious and totally innocent. "At 6:00 or 11:00?" she asked.
"I think you know which one," Bill replied, raising his eyebrows. "The 11:00 broadcast. And just at the end. It seems that somehow after the sportscast things suddenly got chilly in the studio. In fact, I've reviewed the tape, and in those last couple of minutes, our viewers could clearly see you weren't wearing a bra."
"Bill, I don't see how that could of happened," she replied with a certain amount of indignation. "And besides, you know I'd never acknowledge that I violated our dress code."
"Well I know you'd never acknowledge it; you're too much of a professional. So let's talk hypothetically. You understand this business. Why would a very good newscaster suddenly decide to appear braless during part of the broadcast?"
Lisa slowly replied, "Since we're talking hypothetically, then I'd say that maybe she was concerned about the slipping ratings and the fact that the station seems unwilling to make any changes that might help turn things around. I could imagine someone deciding that under those circumstances that something had to be done to draw some attention to the situation."
"But of course," she continued, "I would never think of doing anything without the producer's approval," looking up at Bill. "Especially if he understands what I'm willing to do."
"I think I do understand now," replied Bill. "Just give me a few days to think this through."
