Point Counterpoint Read online

  Point Counterpoint

  Fiona Wilde

  (c)2010 Fiona Wilde Blushing Publications

  Point Counterpoint

  (c)2010 Fiona Wilde Blushing Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Point Counterpoint by Fiona Wilde

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-935152-94-1

  Cover Design: ABCD Webmasters Graphics

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  Part I

  Jill Parmele sat looking cool and confident in her blue suit, one hand draped over the armrest of her chair. When the man to her left, a production assistant, made a clever remark she laughed, the sound of it stilted even to her own ears. She hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt. Inside her stomach, butterflies romped.

  She knew the screen test had gone well, which hadn't been a surprise. Before becoming a progressive commentator, she'd spent countless hours in front of the camera as a broadcast news reporter. Besides, if the screen test hadn't gone well, why would the head of American News Network have called her into his office? It had to be to prepare her for the next step. The question was: how many other hopefuls would be given the same chance? How many others were vying for her job with the same hunger and ambition she brought to the table?

  The door opened and both she and the production assistant, whose name she only knew as Herb, stood as two other men walked into the room. She'd already met the first man, Eric Longtree, the producer of ANN's newest debate show, Loggerheads. The other man she hadn't met. He was Bill Shale, the president and CEO of ANN.

  "Sit down, sit down," Shale said, gesturing to Jill and Herb with a fat hand which he then extended to Jill for a handshake. She accepted and shook the fleshy paw, returning the smile he gave her. Inside, though, the butterflies had increased exponentially. Shale was as big in business as he was in life, rocketing the conservative ANN to the top of the cable networks after coming on the scene as another avenue of "balanced" news providers.

  In her heart, she loathed ANN, but hoped the addition of a smart, articulate progressive to their new debate show would influence some of the network's conservative viewer base and even make them think a bit about their entrenched political views.

  Eric Longtree sat down in the chair to her left as Shale waddled around his desk and squeezed himself into his chair. He sat quietly for a moment, as if recovering from the effort and then fixed Herb with a scowl.

  "Where's Brad?" he barked. "He was supposed to be here."

  "The book signing ran a little late," Herb replied with an conciliatory tone. "About twice as many people showed up as expected, two thousand at last count!"

  "Ah, in that case he's excused for being late," said Shale, his puffy face breaking into a smile. He looked at Jill. "Miss Parmele, have you joined the millions of readers who have read Brad's latest book?"

  "I have," she said.

  "Then how the hell are you still a liberal, woman?" Shale and the other men broke into laughter.

  "Oh, somehow I managed," she said, forcing a smile, all the while calling on her talent for masking feelings - this time the feeling of disgust. She'd found A Dangerous Left Turn: Why Liberals Should Be Reigned In one of the most inflammatory books she'd ever had the misfortune to read. Even now it filled her with anger when she thought back on some of the chapter headings, such as "They're Patsies, Not Patriots," and "Stopping the Welfare Wagon. But the most offensive chapter as far as Jill was concerned - and the one that incited the most controversy - was "Bring Back the Patriarchy: What Real Men Must Do To Stop Feminism." In that chapter, Chadwick had dissected and minimized almost every female achievement, advanced the notion that working women were little more than pencil pushers who took jobs men should have and even implied females were too emotional to vote.

  Jill was about to elaborate how the tone and content of Brad Chadwick's book had actually reinforced her liberal beliefs when the door opened and the man himself walked into the room. Jill was surprised at how tall he was in person. He breezed past Jill and the two men and walked straight to Bill Shale's desk, where he shook the offered hand.

  "Paying homage to his conservative liege, like a good little sheep" thought Jill, resisting the urge to smirk.

  The men exchanged greetings for a moment before Shale ordered Herb to fetch a chair for Chadwick, which in fact Herb was already doing. He pulled it next to Jill's.

  "Thanks, Herb," Chadwick said, taking a seat. He smoothed his tie as he did and then turned to Jill. "Well, well," he said. "If it isn't Xena the Warrior Princess."

  "Excuse me?" Jill said.

  "Yeah, with the black hair and attack dog presence that's what we nicknamed you when we all used to watch you on Progressive Edge.'"

  "Well, if you really watched Progressive Edge then you would know your little nickname is completely inapplicable," Jill said coolly. "There were no swords and I usually wore a suit rather than a skimpy breastplate."

  Chadwick didn't even try to hide the fact that he was looking her up and down. "Too bad," he said. "If you had maybe your show wouldn't have been canceled."

  Jill didn't even blink. After reading Chadwick's book and watching Chadwick's Perspective, she expected just the kind of chauvinistic, boorish behavior he was exhibiting. It was irritating, but what was even more irritating was how the other three men didn't even try to hide their ideological impartiality, laughing as hard at Chadwick's comment as they did at Shale's earlier slight.

  Jill waited until the laughter died down to respond. "Unfortunately, educated views are in the minority these days, Mr. Chadwick. Hence shows like Progressive Edge fail while ones like Chadwick's Perspective - that promote prejudice and fear - flourish." She smiled sweetly, even as she did realized that she'd just insulted the entire ANN lineup.

  "There goes my chances," she thought, but her fears were short lived. Shale had hauled his bulbous frame from his chair and was pumping his fat fist in victory.

  "Yes, yes, yes," he said. "That's just the kind of tension I'm looking for." He waddled over to Jill with an outstretched hand, a laugh shaking his belly. "Welcome to the ANN family, Miss Parmele. You are now the new co-host of Loggerheads."

  Jill looked from Shale to the other men and back again. "Just like that?" she asked. "No practice debate?"

  "Don't need one," Shale said. "I go on instinct and I know just from sitting here that the sparks are going to fly. Brad is a snide S.O.B., my dear, and I think you are just like him. The viewers are going to love to love watching you two match wits." He turned to Chadwick. "Don't you think so, Brad?"

  "Oh, sure," Jill's new co-host said. "They'll tune in to watch us match wits and since they're all so 'uneducated' they'll never get tired of seeing the same outcome."

  "And just what outcom
e is that, Mr. Chadwick?" asked Jill.

  Brad Chadwick's smiled, his teeth gleaming white in his tanned face. "Why, watching me spank your cute but live on the air every night." he said.

  This time, Jill could not hide her reaction. She felt her face grow hot and she reached down immediately for her purse, stammering that she thought she heard her phone ringing. She made a show of retrieving and opening it and looking puzzled when there was no caller.

  "Must have been a phone down the hall I heard," she said.

  "I didn't hear anything," said Chadwick. Jill looked at him and saw that he looked slightly amused as his gaze met hers. She wanted to tear her eyes away but instead forced herself to hold it, glaring.

  "I did," she said.

  She stood and turned to Shale. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I look forward to working here, and I appreciate the fact that you're looking for someone who can truly engage in a debate. I'm not going to play the shill."

  "I know," he said, putting a fat arm around her and giving her shoulder a paternal squeeze. "But if I'd wanted an Alan Colmes I would have looked for someone like that. I wanted just the opposite. I wanted someone with grit and balls and you've got both, girl. And I expect you'll do a good job."

  Jill was pleased to get something akin to respect from the man, although she suspected this was rare for him. Bill Shale was a rabid conservative, notorious for his top down management style. She hoped he'd be true to his word and not try to rein her in as her co-host's book recommended.

  Her joy at getting the job - elation when saw the six-figure salary offer - was tempered by the fact that she already truly disliked Brad Chadwick. She disliked everything about him, from his condescending manner to the way he leered at her. But most of all, she disliked how he'd been able to unnerve her - and notice that she'd been unnerved. Even now, as they were all walking from the office, she fancied she could feel his eyes on her. She turned briefly to see if it was so and saw that it was. Brad Chadwick was still looking right at her, an amused, knowing smile still playing on his lips.

  Part II

  "Ohmigod, you're kidding!" Jill's sister Megan screamed when Jill called her later that evening to tell her about her new job and new salary. "Christ, that's crazy money!"

  "It is," said Jill with a sigh. "And it's an amazing opportunity. The ANN studios are elaborate. You should see the set design for Loggerheads. It probably cost more than my house. But still..."

  "What?" asked Megan. "How can there even be a dark linking to this silver cloud?"

  Jill opened a can of cat food and set it down on the floor, distracting Taj, her Abyssinian cat who was trying to trip her as she talked. "I dunno," she said. "I guess I feel like I'm selling out."

  "Well you shouldn't," said Megan. "You've become one of the leading liberal female voices..."

  "Please, I prefer the term progressive," said Jill.

  On the other end of the line, Megan scoffed. A self-described "flaming moderate," she'd always found political semantics tiresome.

  "Liberal, progressive, whatever," she said. "The point is that you've worked tirelessly to give a voice to those who are getting drowned out by the right. You were amazing on Progressive Edge. It's not your fault itdidn't make it. People these days flock to the loudest shepherd, and let's face it, babe, the right wing is willing to be a lot louder than the people left of center."

  Jill laughed. "That's funny, Megan. That's exactly what I told Brad Chadwick."

  Megan gasped. "Oooh, I almost forgot to ask. What's he like? He looks so handsome on television."

  "Ugh," Jill said. "How can you say that? He's such a jerk!"

  "I didn't say I agreed with him," Megan sulked. "I just watch him with the sound turned down."

  Jill giggled. "I wish I had a mute button for him. Looks aren't everything, believe me. He's close-minded and chauvinistic. Can you believe the bastard openly ogled me?"

  "He was probably trying to psych you out," Megan said.

  "Maybe," said Jill quietly.

  "Oh geesh, got to go," said Megan. "Emma's crying."

  "Alright," said Jill. "Kiss kiss."

  "Kiss kiss. Till tomorrow, sis." Megan hung up and Jill smiled. Since her job had put miles between them, they talked on the phone every day, ending the conversations with the same corny little rhyme they'd used since children. Usually she hated to end their chats, but today she was relieved. With Megan, Jill found herself divulging things she didn't even want to admit to herself. And the last thing she wanted to do was tell her about Brad Chadwick's spanking comment.

  It still irked Jill that it had affected her. All her life she'd considered her strong submissive streak a defect, her fantasies of being taken in hand by a stronger, older man the unfortunate result of evil social indoctrination. She'd fought back by trying to "reverse" her dark desires, immersing herself in liberal studies and women's studies courses that preached the message that all hitting, all violence is wrong.

  It had not worked, even as she rose through the ranks of advocacy for progressive causes. To her frustration, the tendencies had only gotten stronger. By the time she considered therapy, her reputation as a liberal activist and commentator was too well known. She feared if the doctor-patient privilege was ever compromised and word of her "problem" got out, she'd be held up as a laughingstock. It was not a risk she was willing to take. So Jill battled her feelings day by day, counting it as a victory if she looked at a confident man's lap without thinking what it would be like to be over it, writhing helplessly as he smacked her again and again with his big, broad hand.

  Jill had to admit that her anger at Brad Chadwick's comment had been twofold. She resented the fact that he'd poked at that tender, hidden place in her psyche but also resented the obvious entitlement he felt to use the terminology of male domination.

  Upstairs, she treated herself to a long bubble bath and a glass of white wine. She knew landing the co-host gig was a reason to celebrate with a night on the town, but Jill had few friends. She used to have friends, but ultimately her relationships with them had all been the same as the inevitable questions came up. "Why don't you date?" And then would come the well-meaning matchmaking efforts, where Jill would find herself bored to tears by men who tried to impress her by regurgitating her own political rhetoric.

  "I'm not afraid to cry," said one soft-eyed suitor. "I'm strong enough to be tender." And he was, much to Jill's disappointment. For the six-foot science professor played rugby on the weekends and had a body to show for it. Jill fancied that the sweet talk was just a way to get her into bed, and when he did he would use his superior strength to overwhelm her until she submitted under an orgasmic wave of pleasure.

  Instead, he'd groveled at her feet, his hard-on touching the floor as he begged permission to worship her inner goddess. "I'm not worthy to be on top," he'd said. "I'm not worthy to mount Gaia."

  Jill got dressed and left, unwilling to show her well-intentioned date the depth of her disgust at his behavior, although she believed he probably knew. He never bothered to call her again.

  It had been easier to throw herself into work. It had given her another excuse to avoid social interaction with the opposite sex, even though it led to advances from lesbian co-workers who assumed because she didn't date men she preferred women.

  Jill never felt like she was missing out on much until she was around Megan and her family and watched how happy she was with husband Trent and their toddler Emma. Jill sometimes wondered if Megan was "wired" like she was, and watched her the couple for "clues" like a stern look from Trent or for Megan to fidget with discomfort as she sat in her chair. There were none. Megan and Trent cooked, parented, and played together like any other couple. They were normal. Just like most other couples were normal. Like most people were normal. Not abnormal like she was. Not weird.

  Jill lifted herself from the bathtub and toweled off in front of the mirror, assessing her figure. Most women would be flattered to be compared to Xena the Warrior Princess, but she had t
o admit underneath her clothes was a body in less than fighting shape. Jill was tall - that helped keep her weight evenly distributed over her voluptuous frame. But she knew too many more nights of take out could hurt her professionally.

  She turned to the side and ran her hand across the small mound of flesh of her lower belly. It was another injustice that women in television were supposed to be ever youthful, with long legs that ended in impossibly pointy-toed heels while an aging man with a paunch could still be considered sexy. She turned to assess her reflection. At least her ass was still nice, even if it was a tad wider than it had been last year.

  Groaning, she wrapped the towel around her body, telling herself it was no wonder so many women suffered from poor body image and eating disorders. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she lined up the little bottles of nail polish, trying to decide what color to paint her toes. She finally decided on a shade called Cherry Bliss, and as she dragged the first blood red line across her nail of her bit toe, she pushed the insecurities from her mind and thought about what topics she'd suggest for the first few episodes of Loggerheads.

  Chapter Two

  Part I

  Jill looked over the projected breakdown for the first episode of Loggerheads and frowned.

  "What's wrong?" asked Eric.

  "She probably wants to change the music to the Oprah theme," said Brad Chadwick.

  Jill fixed him with a look she reserved for her most out-of-touch conservative detractors, a mixture of pity and derision.

  "Actually, Chad, I don't have a problem with the theme music," she said smoothly. "I do, however, have an objection to his doing every lead-in. We need to alternate."

  "It's Brad," he said, and Jill looked up.

  "Excuse me?" she said, affecting a look of innocence she didn't intend for him to buy. She'd muddled his name on purpose and they both knew it. "Silly me. Those made up stage names are so confusing."