She was silent as the car sped away rapidly, leaving behind the depressing gray of the city as they headed toward home, a big stone and wood house they had bought in the country, surrounded by trees and open space they could call their own. The closer they got to home, the more Lola relaxed. Her tone changed, and she scooted closer to him, her long sleek thighs pressed against his legs as she shook her head and heaved a sigh, "I'm sorry, darling."

Andy could still feel his cock hard and full of longing as it pulsated like an angry heart between his thighs. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her long lithe legs, the skirt hiked up to show the seductive curves of her calves, the firm contours of her thighs. He could smell her perfume; it came from the big blue bottle he had given her for her last birthday. He had seen her putting on a pair of lacey white panties that morning with a matching brassiere. He had wanted her then, and now nothing mattered except taking her straight to bed.

He took hope at the change in her voice and listened attentively, while pretending to be vastly interested in his driving.

"Really, I'm sorry, Andy," she said contritely, patting him on an arm and kissing his cheek. The newscaster felt a tingling thrill run up and down his spine.

"It's just that…" her voice trailed off.

Andy glared at her. "Just what? If you don't tell me what's wrong, how can I ever find out about it?"

"Well, I've been worried."

"What about?" Andy asked, his eyes darting suddenly to her.

"It's Rudy," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I'm very concerned about him."

"About Rudy!" he said. "Your brother again!" he growled, shaking his head with disgust. "What's he done now?"

"Well, he's left his job at the newspaper."

"Fired you mean!" This was all leading up to something. He could feel it in his bones.