She knew many people tuned into the Sally Sue Bennett Show in high hopes that she wouldn't hit the bleep button quick enough and some blue language would go out on the airwaves. It sometimes happened. The raven-haired woman in her late 20's was resigned to getting at least one nasty letter a month from the Federal Communications Commission threatening to pull her ticket and put her out of work.

She was also resigned to minor indignities, such as being caressed by half-drunk males as she did her chatter thing along the bar and at the booths of the club with a remote mike, but she had developed an instinct which enabled her to evade wandering fingers almost every time. Sally Sue, was repelled by such contact, even though she was honest enough to admit that her body was interesting and knew she'd have to put up with as much or more if she was dealing plates off her arm in a diner and not making half as much money.

Smoothly she reeled off her pitch to the young set as the tape flowed, thinking all the while, that there might be something to Women's Lib after all – she was the only disc jockey in the country who had to, in effect, do two shows at once through the magic of electronics. And a lot of quick scissoring of her long, shapely legs between a sophisticated Jacque's Trap night club and the Rosie's Pizza Parlor across the parking lot. There she would rap with the teens and put them on the air while a long playing tape was spinning and covering time at the bar.

Sometimes she felt like a electronic tennis ball. But it was a living, and she was getting noticed in the industry because the Sally Sue Bennett Show pulled in listeners and pulled beautifully. The part from the cocktail lounge was live and direct; that from the pizza parlor and other sponsors taped. Her husky voice was on the airwaves some 14 hours a day. In time, this could lead to a big network job, but for the moment, Sally Sue had to sell herself, and it was a personal thing.