The production assistant, who was also the weather spot’s cameraman, sound technician, and line editor, removed her headset and hung it over the camera lens. “You missed the handoff, Bob already made one.” She stuck her hands into her thick blond mop and began shaking out her headset hair.

“Crap. What did he say?”

“Never mind, you can’t hate him any more than you already do. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Gary stormed over to his desk — which was maybe two baby steps from his “stage” — to check the weather feed from NOAA for the fiftieth time that evening. “I can’t leave until the show is over, Shari, they might call me. Sunny, sunny, sunny, dammit. Maybe Homestead’ll get a tornado or something…”

Shari moved behind him to massage his shoulders. “You known they won’t. This station isn’t big enough for actual news, it won’t fit. One more budget cut and they won’t even have a weather spot, they’ll just have Bob look out the window on camera. God, you are tense-”

“Maybe someone will push him out,” Gary said. “Look at this forecast, they could just rerun tonight’s spot ’til next Thursday! I hate living in Miami!”

She gave up and collapsed into her chair next to his. “Miami’s a great place for a weatherman and you know it. We’ve got rain every spring, torrential rain and heat waves all summer, tornados, flooding, lightning, and, if you’re lucky, a hurricane or two. Tell me honestly, which would you rather do the in-the-field spot for, choppy surf or hip-deep snow? Plus you’ve got me.”

“And where are all the hurricanes?” Gary continued, waving his arms around. “You guys got ‘em every fucking year until I move down here, and now it’s all a-surprisingly-calm-hurricane-season shit. Dave Marsh didn’t get his face on a tracking map because of a surprisingly calm season! I don’t even get to be near the main stage, I’m stuck in this fucking broom closet on the other side of the fucking building with a fucking green wall and a-”

He stopped mid-sentence, with his mouth still open, when Shari calmly pulled her blouse to her neck and held it there. Thick pink nipples bobbled before his eyes on round, tanned breasts. After a moment she pulled it back down and smoothed it over her slacks.

“Better?”

He shook his head once, violently, then sighed. “Yeah. Thanks. Let’s go, at least we can still get a good table.”

Shari powered down all the equipment and grabbed her purse. Never fuck the talent, she told herself for the millionth time. Never fuck the talent…

There was a hot dog skewered on the antenna of Gary’s Accord. “That was quick,” he said. “I’m impressed. Someone must’ve had one in the break room.”

Shari pushed past him to get to the passenger side. “Don’t worry about it. They’re a bunch of fratboy jocks who know which asses to kiss and how to twinkle on cue. Keep doing the incredible work you’re doing and the networks will pick you up by the end of the year.” She got inside and unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse while he was still opening his door.

“So you’re saying I don’t twinkle? At last you finally… are you trying to distract me?”

“Of course. How’s it going so far?”

“Not bad. Do one more button.” He smiled at her in the dim light from the dashboard.

“Damn,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “You twinkled.”

The next day Shari got to work a few hours early so she could get some work done before Gary got out of makeup and she had to morph into Chief Fan and Number One Weather Guy Supporter. This was getting old, especially since it was getting tougher and tougher to keep him happy. That was why she spent her extra time doing her other unofficial job; mailing demo tapes of Gary to anybody else with a TV camera.

She hadn’t started dating Gary to ride him to the top, but she knew he could do better than he was doing here at Channel 5. There had to be a way to get him noticed. Management never did, he might as well be invisible before-

Her phone buzzed at her. “Shari Bronson, Instant News at 5,” she said.

“Hi, this is Marcus Rice from Channel Nine. I understand you sent us the tape of Gary Monahan?”

Shari clutched her phone in both hands. “Yes?”

“Well, as it happens our weatherman is being transferred to a different affiliate, and we’re interested in your boy. Is he there?”

“No! I mean, no, not yet. He, uh… he drives around town every day before he comes in, looking at all the… all the weather,” she finished weakly. Stupid! Stupid!

“Sounds like quite a trooper. Ask him to give us a call after the show tonight. We’ll be watching.”

Shari babbled something approximating thanks and hung up. This was perfect! She knew he could do it! She knew he’d be great!

She knew she couldn’t tell him. He’d freeze up, no question. Shari took a deep breath. No problem. We’ll just go back in our little room and shoot the same great weather spot we always do, and then I’ll tell him. No problem.

Todd, one of the newsroom PAs, swung around the doorway and leaned in. “Hey! Bad news, Shari. You want it first?”

“Throw it on up, baby, I’m in too good a mood to float down and hear it.”

“This’ll bring you down all right. I just overheard the big bosses talking to your buddy. Starting Monday they’re cutting the weather spot down to just Friday-Saturday-Sunday, with a screen shot the rest of the week.”

Shari’s heart, full of hope and joy, drained like a leaking balloon. “Oh, you’re shitting me.” She thought furiously. Tonight was all or nothing, and now he was guaranteed to be at his worst. Maybe she could work the camera topless, or masturbate during his bit or something, keep him occupied. All he needed was three minutes of show-stopping brilliance and he’d never be invisible aga… Shari’s mind suddenly went crystal clear.

Todd was still describing the horror. “Serious, you could hear Gary yelling right through the phone. Hey, where you going?”

Shari all but shoved him out of the way and ran down the corridor, picking up speed as she went. “Cover for me!” she yelled back.

A room that’s only five feet square is a terrible place to pace, Gary thought, with the boiling heat of a person who’s been pissed off for over an hour and keeps finding more things to get enraged at. The show had started already, Shari was nowhere to be found, and the goddamn station was cutting him off at the knees. Weekend weather? Now he was doing fucking weekend weather?

I oughtta go out in style, he thought bitterly. Flip the viewers off, or tell them to go fuck themselves. You want weather? There’s gonna be a mile-high tidal wave, assholes, and you’re all gonna be crushed under the falling condos! Run! Run! Motherfucking sons of bitches…

Shari charged in and closed the door behind her, panting like a marathon runner. She was wearing a long raincoat and had her hair in a tight bun. Gary scowled at her. “What?” she asked.

“You don’t trust me either? Or were you in Homestead all day?”

“This? Oh, don’t worry about it.” She stepped around the camera and hugged him. “How you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fucking great!” Shari winced and went to check on the camera while Gary kept on yelling. “I renegotiated my contract, now I get four fucking days off a week! Ain’t that great?”

The camera set, Shari reached into her purse for her new makeup, which she started applying in handfuls. “Honey, you need to calm down, you’re on in five. You really need to do a good show tonight, it’s important.”

“Calm? Calm? How in the tenth secret circle of hell can I calm down? I’m ruined! Oh, forget it,” he said, as Shari unbuckled her raincoat. “A quick tittie shot ain’t gonna work tonight.”

She let the coat drop to the floor. Underneath she was wearing only a hooded green leotard that covered her entire body and clung to her lush curves. She turned around to display a matching green face and neck. “Gary?”

“What? What the hell are you-”

“Shut up.” She walked over to him and licked his bottom lip, reveling in the feel of his large hands as they automatically dropped to cup her ass. She wiggled it, once, to make him smile. “Come on weatherman,” she cooed, sinking slowly to her knees in front of him and yanking open his pants. “Give it to me straight.”

His penis was still soft, unaware of what was going on, but a few quick kitten licks on the underside woke it up and made it fit for company. She slathered her tongue up and down it while she had the luxury, getting it good and slippery for its big debut.

“Oh, God, that feels… what are you doing? You’ll get us both… unh! Fired! Shari! Jesus!”

Without stopping what she was doing Shari let go with one hand to point to the monitor over on the side, which showed Gary standing alone with a slightly blurry area below his belt. Thank god, Shari thought. She’d had to guess on the color that the camera’s chromakey filter would ignore and the Danskin place hadn’t had a lot of green to choose from. Now if she happened to pop into view, all anyone would see would be a chunk of weather map instead of her bobbing head.

She glanced back to the sweep hand on the wall clock, rubbing Gary’s rigid cock against her bright green cheek as she did so. She smiled up at him, knowing it would drive him crazy. “You’re on in five, Gary. Four, three… And she swallowed his dick whole, on cue.

CUT TO: Bob Tarkel, smirking into the camera.

BOB: And that’s why regular testicle examination is so important. And on that note, let’s turn to our head wienerman… I’m sorry, ha, ha, weatherman, Gary Monahan. Gary, what’s going on tonight?”

CUT TO: Gary, looking almost dangerously alert and curiously immobile.

GARY: What? We’ve, ah, we’ve just got weather all over the place, Bob! It was a NGH! A GLOrious day today, and it’ll be just as nice toMORrow! HIGHS as, um, as high as 89, with lows in the middle sexties. Sixties!

Although this was purely for Gary’s benefit and it wasn’t really her thing anyway, Shari found herself getting turned on. She’d never blown a guy in front of a few hundred thousand people before, and she suddenly found herself experiencing some serious ocean-level flooding herself. She kept an eye on the monitor to make sure nothing popped up and frightened the audience, and then she lost herself in the moment and worked both hands into his open pants to work his shaft and balls.

The studio was forgotten. The network was forgotten. All she wanted now was to make her lover come in front of a live camera, and she knew just what he liked…

BOB: Thank you, Gary, that was-

GARY: But if I can take… ah… take a moment, I’d like to ask everyone watching to get out tomorrow and REally enjoy the sunshine. Take your loved ones to a PARK or to the beach, show them how mu-uh-uch you CARE…

Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, Shari sucked and sucked and suddenly stopped dead, with only his head in her mouth, while her tongue swirled feverishly around the underside and both her hands blurred up and down his shaft, over and over. If she pulled away right now, she thought deliriously, would they see his come? Would it arc up in front of the camera, spurt all over the lens? If he shot thick streams over her invisible face, what would it look like to someone watching at home?

She let one hand slip down between her legs as she felt his balls tighten up…

BOB: I’m sure they will, Gary, but-

GARY: …because tomorrow’s weather will be GREAT! IN… INCREDIBLE! GOD! Just unbelievable weather tomorrow, BOB! It’ll be… whew…

CUT TO: Bob, looking a bit confused. He looked at his co-anchor, who shrugged.

BOB: Thank you Gary, for a very… impassioned… report. And now on to sports. Skip?

The red light blinked out and Shari leaned back with a very smug expression on her face. “That was a hell of a performance,” she said.

Gary knelt down to kiss her smeared green lips. “I was just going to say the same thing. Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“Channel 9 called,” Shari told him excitedly. “They were watching tonight, they need a weatherman! I was afraid to tell you, but you did an incredible spot and they’re sure to hire you!” She jumped up and hugged him. “Oh, you’re gonna be big time! You’ll be on the newsroom stage and on billboards and-”

Gary pulled her close and laid a finger on her lips. “And I owe it all to you. I do have a demand, though.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you can-”

“I want my own studio, just like this one. With you as my only camera operator.” He reached down to run a finger through the sopping wet crease between her legs, and he held her up with his other hand as her knees buckled. “And I want a rip in your leotard, right about here.”

“Oooh, God, Gary, that feels-”

“Come here, lady,” he said in a husky voice. “I have a wiener for you.”

CUT TO: The monitor, where we see GARY starting to do amazing things to absolutely nothing. Credits roll.