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expected too. She seemed quite shocked that every line lit up, and I was taking calls non-stop for the entire show. There certainly is a demand and a market for this kind of information.”
    Nancy nodded her head and a thin I-told-you-so smile touched one corner of her mouth. “As I said, I listened to the show.”
    I sat back. “Well you tell me,” I challenged without any heat in my voice. “What did you think about the calls?”
    Nancy became contemplative, like she was carefully choosing her words.
    “A lot of the questions seemed to follow the same lines,” she said, and began to frown a little. “It might be the one unexpected obstacle.”
    “Obstacle?”
    She nodded. “If people hear you explaining the same basic concepts over and over again for each new woman who calls, there is a chance the general audience will grow tired and turn off. We need to keep the show fresh, with new information and new ideas each night.”
    I nodded. It made sense. “Do you have any ideas you want to suggest?”
    Nancy smiled winningly and held up a pointed finger for attention. “I do actually,” she kept right on smiling, watching my face. “I think we need more fantasy calls. A mix of information and pure eroticism.”
    I nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”
    Nancy became brusque and business like. She rifled the pages on her desk like they contained information that was relevant, but that I had no right seeing.
    “You had one woman call last night – late last night. Her name was…” she turned a page over and ran her eyes quizzically down a fresh page.
    “Sondra,” I said. Nancy looked up. “Her name was Sondra. I think she was the last call.”
    “Yes!” Nancy’s eyes sparkled with a predatory kind of gleam. “Sondra and her fantasy about the strange man in her bedroom.” She picked up a pen and pointed it at me like a dagger to emphasize her words. “We need more Sondras… or we need Sondra to call in every night with a new fantasy. Either way, that’s exactly the kind of pure erotica we need to sprinkle like sugar between the information calls.”

Chapter 6.
     
    When I arrived at the station that night, April was waiting for me at the end of the corridor beyond the walls of the studio. She was standing by a coffee machine, hip thrust out provocatively, and a mirthless smile on her face. She watched me come towards her and shifted her weight, arching her back a little so that her breasts were even more apparent. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and tight-fitting jeans. I could see the shadow of her bra through the fabric. She batted her eyes in a parody of a flirt.
    “I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning,” she said, and I wondered for an instant if she was being malicious, or merely curious.
    “I didn’t know there was a meeting,” I said. April gestured an invitation for coffee and I shook my head.
    “Didn’t anyone tell you?” she became suddenly serious.
    “No.”
    April frowned into the contents of her cup and then glanced up at me, her head tilted, her eyes wide and artless. “Sorry,” she said, “maybe I was supposed to give you the message…”
    I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans and shrugged my shoulders. “Forget it.”
    April went quiet for thoughtful moment. “Did dragon-slayer-horror-bitch tear you a new one?”
    I looked puzzled. April smiled but there wasn’t a lot of humor in the expression. “Nancy fucking Collett,” she explained. “Did she get upset?”
    It was an interesting insight into how the on-air staff saw their boss. Clearly the General Manager wasn’t going to win a popularity award.
    “She was… frosty,” I understated.
    April shook her head. Her hair swished like a lion’s mane across her shoulders and the big hoop earrings jangled. She sipped at the coffee and her face wrenched into an expression of revulsion. I wasn’t sure if the coffee, or her impression of our boss had caused it.
    “She’s a hard bitch, that one,”