Date: 2010-08-27T05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: cookie429; Extratorrents; Kat
Description: When progressive activist Jill Parmele lands a spot as co-host on Loggerheads, she considers it a good career move. There’s just one problem. ANN, the network that produces Loggerheads is unapologetically conservative. And her co-host, Brad Chadwick, reflects its right wing philosophy. It’s not long before sparks fly between the two, but when Jill finds herself undeniably drawn to her dominant nemesis she’s confused by her own desires. And when Chadwick figures out she’s interested - and that this fiery liberal is actually a closet submissive - he’s determined to fulfill her every desire.
Publisher: Blushing Books

Point Counterpoint

Fiona Wilde

(c)2010 Fiona Wilde Blushing Publications

Point Counterpoint

(c)2010 Fiona Wilde Blushing Publications

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Point Counterpoint by Fiona Wilde
eBook ISBN: 978-1-935152-94-1

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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 outcome 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 to 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."

She was rewarded with an icy glare and looked down so he wouldn't see her victorious little smirk. Brad Chadwick had been born Hal Chatworth, legally changing his name at the age of 22
when he discovered that the abusive alcoholic man he'd always assumed to be his father was not his father at all.

His pain had been compounded when his mother confessed that she could put candidates for his paternity at no less than five men, three of which were in prison. It had been and admission he'd been force to make and explain in his first book, Values Under Fire, after a left wing Web site had unearthed his personal records and splashed them all over the Internet four years earlier. At the time, Chadwick had been enjoying success as a conservative talk show host in L.A. and had even been on the cover of Newsweek, which called him one of the "up-and-coming conservatives to watch."

The revelation had cooled his career and made him the laughingstock of the left wing. The stress had reportedly led to a divorce from his wife, and while he had overcome the drama to find the fame he was predicted to achieve, it was common knowledge that the topic was still a sore point for him. Jill knew that it was probably beneath her to stoop to such tactics, but at the same time she wanted Chadwick to know if he was willing to stoop, so was she.

"I think she has a point," said Eric Longtree.

"What do you mean she has a point?" Chadwick snapped. "It's not a stage name. I changed my name before I even went in radio."

The producer looked momentarily stunned. "I wasn't talking about your name," he said. "I was talking about her opinion on the lead-ins. You should alternate. For balance."

Jill enjoyed the look of discomfort on her co-host's face. Bonus.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "What do I care? Give her more face time." He paused and for a moment it seemed as if Chadwick might follow the comment with another insult, but he stopped, obviously reluctant to stir her up again. Jill felt a rush of satisfaction. He saw her as an able adversary. Double bonus.

"So who's our first lucky guest?" asked Jill, changing the subject.

Eric Longtree handed her a sheet. "The former Rep. Lester Hillman of Idaho. He started something a homeless shelter called The Fold that offers food, clothing and a bed to any disadvantaged person who accepts Christ.

"So if you're a Buddhist or a Hindu or an atheist the only way you'll get shelter from this guy is to make a false confession of faith," said Jill. "How charitable."

"It's his own private shelter," countered Chadwick. "It's no different than a restaurant. They can set their own rules, like no shirt, no shoes, no service. If you want to eat there, you dress appropriately."

"That's the lamest comparison I've ever heard," said Jill with an indignant laugh. "People going to a restaurant have a of going to another establishment. A homeless person in a snowstorm doesn't have that luxury. 'No shirt, no shoes no service' is not the same as 'no Jesus, no service.'

Chadwick started to counter, but Eric Longtree put up his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, you two," he said. "I appreciate your passion but let's save it for the debate, shall we? My point was to let you know who the guest is going to be, not have you two jump the gun and give each other a preview of the points you are going to make."

"Like I need them," said Chadwick. "She's a liberal, Eric. I'll be able to predict her arguments before she makes them."

Jill said nothing, and enjoyed the way he looked at her in expectation of an answer. Instead she tucked the short bio on Hillman into her briefcase. "You're right, Eric," she said, ignoring her co-host as a parent might ignore an attention-seeking child. She vowed to dig up everything and anything she could on Hillman and his shelter on the former Congressman and is charity. Then she'd show Brad Chadwick just how unpredictable she could be.

Part II

Although Jill was provided with a personal assistant - to help with research, Shale said - she didn't yet trust ANN administration enough to let her help with research. The girl, named Tina, seemed nice enough but had just the sort of Fembot qualities that made it easy for her Jill to imagine her running straight to Chadwick with a preview of her arguments.

It made her feel silly to be so suspicious, or to suspect a fellow female of working for the opposition. But hadn't the feminist studies taught her that the it was often women assisting men who undermined progress? It had, and that notion led her to the philosophy that when in doubt, there was one person she should trust. One woman. Herself.

So while Jill did her own research she sent Tina to dig up tax and property records on Hillman. She kept at it most of the day, interviewing acquaintances and contacts who led her to tips about Hillman's gambling habit. Further digging revealed that The Fold was the target of a probe for fiscal mismanagement.

"I got those tax records," Tina said later, breezing back into the office. "And I brought you coffee. Double cream and Splenda, just as you like it."

Jill took the cup and smiled. "Thanks," she said. "You must be a mind-reader. I never told you how I liked my coffee."

"Oh..." Tina looked flustered. "I guess somebody else did."

Jill tapped her pencil on the desk thoughtfully.

"When you see them again tell them I appreciate how they took such careful notice of my likes and dislikes. And thanks for the tax records. I'm pretty sure the irregularities I suspect are going to make for an argument that will blow Brad Chadwick right out of the water."

Part III

"Welcome to Loggerheads. I'm Brad Chadwick and this is my co-host, Jill Parmele. Good evening Jill!"

Jill looked into the camera and smiled her most winning smile. "Good evening, to you Brad and good evening America."

"Tonight's topic is women, specifically liberal women. Just who do they think they are?" Brad Chadwick delivered the line with a laugh returned by a live audience.

Jill looked down at her notes. What was going on? They weren't supposed to be discussing feminism. They were supposed to be discussing Hillman. And where did the audience come from? No one had never mentioned a studio audience. She looked out into darkness beyond the camera but could see nothing beyond the glow of recording equipment.

"Jill? Jill? I asked you a question!" Chadwick's voice was angry, demanding.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you," she replied. "You aren't --she held up the paper. You aren't following the script. Why aren't you following the script?"

Chadwick groaned. "Isn't that just like a liberal chick? She acts tough and decisive on the outside but inside she still needs someone to tell her what to do!"

The unseen audience erupted in whoops and yells of agreement.

"Now you just wait a minute." Jill felt her face grow hot with anger. "I do not need someone to tell me what to do. We worked on show prep together - both of us - and now you think you can just change everything without telling me?"

Chadwick leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head, a sarcastic grin on his face. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said. "And if you don't like it, why don't you tell me and the audience what a little thing like you is going to do about it."

"Instead why don't I tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to engage in a debate with you until you are prepared to talk about the topic we discussed!" She shook the paper at him. "It's Hillman, remember?"

Chadwick sat forward in his chair. "Come on, now, Jill. Do you think these people care about watching us debate Hillman or anything else? What did I tell you they wanted?"

She looked at him, puzzled.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten it already! Remember, our first meeting? I told you that our audience just considered our arguing foreplay in preparation for the big final act. Remember, where I spank you?"

It was all Jill could do to keep from flushing again. Instead, she forced herself to keep her voice level and composed. "And just how are we supposed to treat the audience to this metaphorical spanking you think you'll be able to deliver without first having the debate?"

Chadwick stood and walked over to her chair. Before Jill could react, her six-foot-four-inch co-host had pulled her chair away from the table and was hauling her by her arm back over to his seat. Sitting down, he turned the chair towards the audience and looked up at Jill with a grin.

"Who said it was metaphorical, baby?"

"What --!" The word was the only one Jill was able to deliver before she found herself face down over Brad Chadwick's strong lap.

"Let go of me! I demand you let go of me!" she screamed.

"What do you think, America? Should I let her go?" The question was delivered in a jocular tone.

"No!" came the resounding reply.

Jill her herself squeal as Brad Chadwick's strong hand impacted with a loud smack across the seat of her form-fitting skirt. The pain suffused her bottom with a hot, burning heat.

"I demand you let me up!" she cried, kicking hard. "You have no right!"

"I have every right," he countered. "In fact, I'd say I have a downright responsibility to set an example for every man out there who's had to put up with some mouthy little know-it-all feminist." He looked out at the audience. "Guys, this one's for you!"

He began to rein blow after blow across her bottom then. Jill twisted and writhed, using all her strength in the vain attempt to dislodge herself from her co-host's iron grip.

"Help me!" she screamed, and realized with horror that there were tears running down her face.

"I demand somebody stop this brute! Mr. Shale! Where are you!"

"Over here, toots." The spanking mercifully paused and Jill raised her head to see Bill Shale standing off to the side, a cigar in his hand. His fat face was split with a grin.

"Thank, God!" she cried. "I insist you make this man stop at once! I did not sign up for this and you know it!"

"Don't be naive, little girl," Shale replied. "Any liberal woman with half a brain would know that coming on an ANN program is just asking for punishment." He smirked. "Of course, that's what liberal women have, right folks? Half a brain?"

Everyone was laughing now - Shale at his own joke, the producers, the stage hands, the audience, and Chadwick. The only one who wasn't laughing was Jill. She was crying in earnest now as Chadwick resumed the spanking, alternating buttocks with blows that seemed to increase in intensity.

"Skin, skin, skin!" The audience began to chant.

"Aw come on, now." Chadwick asked, this time without pausing the spanking. "What did poor little Jill Parmele do to deserve a bare-bottom spanking?"

"She's a liberal!" the audience shrieked in unison.

"Reason enough!" Chadwick agreed and felt the hem of her skirt being raised.

"No! Oh God, please don't do this! Oh please, please, not on live TV. You can't! You just can't!"

Brad Chadwick's large hand was roaming across the surface of her bottom now, alternately rubbing and squeezing the punished cheeks.

"What do you say, folks?" He hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear. "Are you ready for these panties to come down?

Cries of "Hell, yeah!" were heard through the affirming cheers of the unseen spectators.

"No!" wailed Jill. "Please don't! Please stop."

Brad Chadwick leaned over. "Stop begging. It won't do you any good, baby. Besides, we both know this is just what you've always wanted!"

Now he was talking to the cameraman. "Bring that camera over here, for a close-up," he said. Jill heard the camera rolling, its metallic frame clanking across the stage as Chadwick proceeded with the indignity of pulling her panties down.

With a sob of despair she buried her face in Chadwick's pant leg, closing her eyes against the impending continuation of her punishment as the camera got closer and closer and closer.

She gasped and suddenly everything was bright. From somewhere far away the metallic clanging continued. Sitting up in her bed, Jill looked towards her window. Outside, the garbage truck was rolling down the street. In front of each house the metal arms on the back clanked as they hoisted and dumped bins of refuse into the back.

A dream. It had been a dream. She threw herself back on her pillows, to find that she was still breathing hard and tears dampened her face. Usually after a traumatic nightmare, waking up brought relief - a chance to separate subconscious wanderings from reality. But not now. The dream had been so real, and his Brad Chadwick's words still clung to her. "We both know this is just what you've always wanted."

Jill flung the covers off and rushed to the bathroom, where she started the shower. Quickly she shed her pajamas and underwear, noting with horror that the crotch of her panties was damp with evidence of her desire.

Climbing into the shower stall, she turned her face up to the spray, allowing it to wash away the tears. But more quickly followed.

"Why me?" she thought. "Why do I have to be like this? Haven't I been good? Haven't I worked to change this? Haven't I worked to stop these desires from surfacing?"

She had, and yet while she slept her psyche betrayed her and acted out her darkest psycho-sexual needs. Jill pounded the side of the shower wall and sobbed, for she knew that dreams were just the manifestations of things desired but not attained in real life.

She picked up the bath sponge and rubbed it over her body, especially between her legs, as if she could scrub the remnants of the dream away.

After her shower, Jill tried to put the dream out of her mind over breakfast. She toasted a bagel and spread it with a blend of chevre and basil, eating slowly between sips of hot tea. As she ate, she went over her notes on Hillman in preparation for the first episode of Loggerheads.

It seemed especially unfair that she'd had the dream on the very morning of the day the show was supposed to air. The thought of seeing Brad Chadwick after having such an intimate - albeit - subconscious interlude made it unnerving. She wondered if the dream was an omen. She didn't trust Chadwick, Shale, the producers or anyone else at ANN. Ironically, one of her liberal friends had even made a comment eerily similar to the one Shale had made in her dream. What had he said? Jill searched her mind until she remembered.

She'd been at a conference on global warming when Ed Bates, an environmentalist friend, had caught up with her and asked her if she'd like to get together after the last workshop of the day. It had been years since they'd seen each other, and over dinner they'd caught up on what had been going on in their respective lives. Ed shared with her about his recent engagement and his trip to Belize. She told him about a potential co-hosting opportunity on an upcoming political debate show.

"That's great!" he's exclaimed. "What network?"

"ANN," she'd said, trying to keep the hesitation out of her voice.

"You've got to be kidding, Jill." Ed had said, putting his fork down and reaching for his glass of imported beer. He took a huge swig and sat back staring at her in silence. "ANN is the most unapologetically conservative mouthpiece in television history. They don't even try to hide their bias. Why on earth would you go there?"

Jill had shrugged. "To make a difference," she said. "What is it they say, keep your friends close but your enemies closer."

Ed drained the rest of his glass and put it on the table. "Keeping an enemy close is one thing. Joining the enemy camp is another."

Jill frowned. "I'm not joining them," she said defensively. "I haven't even got the job yet, Ed. But if I do it won't change my philosophy or loyalties. It'll just give me a way to work from within to change the minds of the very people who refuse to embrace anything but conservative group think."

Ed shook his head. "I can see your point," he said. "But take some advice from an old friend. Watch your back. Don't trust anyone there. They've built a reputation on the idea that liberals are evil people who deserve to be punished. Don't assume that just because you work there they'll treat you any differently."

Now, on the cusp of her first appearance as co-host of Loggerheads, the words rang loud in her ears, words triggered by a dream. It helped Jill to think of the dream as not a messenger of desire, but a harbinger of warning. So she focused on the warning.

"Be careful," she said aloud. "Be careful, Jill."

Chapter Three

Part I

"Are you nervous?" Tina asked.

Jill glanced up at her assistant. It was less than fifteen minutes before she as due to be on set and she hoped to spend the time going over her notes. Without interruption.

"No," she said. "I'm not nervous. Not at all. I've done this before. Remember?"

"Yeah, but this is a much bigger audience than you had before. And your last show failed. All those people are going to be watching you, waiting for you to screw up. And then of course, debating someone as popular as Brad..."

Jill snapped her file shut. "Gee, Tina. Thanks for the discouragement."

Tina stopped, her face all wide-eyed innocence. "Oh, no, I'm not trying to discourage you. Honest. I was just telling you how I'd feel if I were you."

Jill stood and walked to the door. She stopped in front of Tina. "Of course you were," she said and turned to walk down the hall.

Perhaps Tina wasn't a mole. Perhaps she was just one of those people with the gift for perpetual annoyance. Regardless, Jill made a mental note to inform Shale that he was replacing the girl with an assistant of her own choosing. Jill smiled. She'd even have Tina deliver the envelope containing the letter herself.

Studio H of the American News Network was a massive place full of state of the art equipment and several sets. Besides Loggerheads, ANN's early show Wake up, America was filmed there. So were the Noon News Hour and Bench Watch, the network's court program the alternated between excoriating left-leaning judicial decisions and following celebrity trials.

She was pleased that the Loggerheads set, which was designed before she was selected as co-host, was more elegant and tasteful than the others. There was no giant American flag banner as a backdrop, no giant screen flashing three-dimensional graphics. It was just an elevated round table on a dais with three chairs - two for the co-hosts and one for the guest. The backdrop was a dark blue, with the show's title and a screen only used for video link-ups or lead-in reports. The set was nothing like the one in her dream and it comforted Jill to look around the studio and see only those working on the production. No audience.

Brad Chadwick was already there when she arrived, seated in one of the swivel chairs by the table. He was turned slightly towards her, one foot resting on a lower metal rung, the other planted on the floor. Jill knew even though she wasn't short, when she sat in the chair her feet would not touch the floor. Brad Chadwick was a big man. And he looked very handsome in dark blue suit and maroon tie.

"Too bad he's such a horse's ass," she said under her breath as she approached, reminding herself that she was there to debate the man, not admire his long legs or the cut of his suit.

"Ah, my ideological adversary." Chadwick looked up. He didn't smile so Jill didn't either. Instead she took her seat and allowed the sound people to fit her with the microphone before acknowledging his presence.

"Good evening, Mr. Chadwick."

"It's Brad," he corrected. "Didn't Tina tell you? Shale wants us to call each other by our first names. He thinks the surnames are too stuffy."

"No, Tina didn't tell me." Jill took a swig of the bottled water she'd brought with her and set it down beside the cup of water at her elbow. Chadwick looked amused.

"What's wrong? Afraid the water's poisoned?" he asked.

Jill looked up, her blue eyes locking with his gray ones. "No," she said. "But if the water here is what causes you people to all think alike I'd rather not risk drinking it."

Chadwick started to respond but now the producer was signaling them. Jill took the water bottle and put it on the shelf under the lip of the table, sat up straight and listened to the countdown.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." He said and pointed as the red light signaled that he live feed had begun.

"Good evening, America. I'm Brad Chadwick."

"And I'm Jill Parmele."

They said the next line in unison. "And this is Loggerheads."

Brad Chadwick fixed the camera with a serious look. "Tonight's hot topic: freedom of religion. Former Idaho congressman turned evangelist Lester Hillman is under fire for requiring vagrants who come to his homeless shelter, The Fold, to swear an oath of loyalty to Christ."

He pivoted his chair to the screen, where the image of Hillman - a grandfatherly man wearing a too-big cowboy hat - appeared. "Reverend Hillman, welcome to the program."

"Thanks, Brad. I'm a big fan. I'm just sorry I couldn't make it but God saw fit to snow me in."

"Well, man hasn't learned to control all of God's works yet, but it does seem in the case of your shelter that some liberal interests are hell-bent on closing down your shelter," Brad replied sympathetically.

"Yes they are, Brad. And it's a crying shame. Three hots, a cot and Jesus. What could be better than that?" The cowboy hat wobbled as Reverend Hillman shook his head.

"Reverend Hillman, Jill Parmele here." Jill swiveled her chair towards the screen now and crossed her legs. "Three hots a cot and Jesus may be fine to some people, but what if the homeless person happens to already be practicing a faith other than Christianity? Should they be turned away or forced to make a false profession of faith to get shelter for themselves and their children?"

"Well, excuse me, ma'am, but if they cared so much about their children they'd be Christians already."

Jill raised an eyebrow and prepared to retort, but Chadwick cut her off in an effort to do damage control. Jill played it cool, allowing less irritation to show on her face than raged in her chest.

"Perhaps my liberal co-host hasn't researched the shelter enough to know that you support this entirely with your own money." Chadwick pulled out a brochure from the shelter and opened. "It says here that you served four hundred families last winter."

"And got professions of faith from each and every one of them," Hillman boasted.

"Got or extorted, Rev. Hillman?" Jill pressed. "We have several complaints here from various families -including a Buddhist couple - who said they were forced to choose between sub zero temperatures and swearing faith to a god other than the one they worship. Now, whether you believe in a person's particular religious path or not, isn't this America? Don't we have freedom of religion?"

"It's a Christian nation, Miss Parmele. Or at least it was until your kind got your hooks in it." The grandfatherly face turned angry, but Jill was undeterred.

"I happen to be a Christian," said Jill, "and I was always taught that Jesus reached out to everyone with love and compassion, regardless of their background, and with respect to their free will. When he fed the masses he had no way of knowing if everyone believed him."

Again Chadwick jumped in to save the guest and for the first time, he had an edge of exasperation in his voice. "Rev. Hillman, did you ever think after two tours of duty in the military, six terms serving your country in congress and opening a homeless shelter that your motives would come under fire? I've got you tax forms here through 2005 and it looks to me that you are a law abiding taxpayer who should be allowed to make his own decisions about how he serves."

"Yup, I sure do," the old man said stubbornly.

Jill felt a well of anger rush from her belly to her throat. Her instincts about Tina had been correct. She'd been working with Chadwick, feeding him what she believed would be Jill's talking points. But she fought down the anger and looked at Chadwick with a calm demeanor and an expression that said, "Gotcha."

Reaching into her folder, she pulled out her real ammunition - a suit filed by a casino seeking payment on Hillman's huge gambling debt and the other outlining the investigation into The Fold's financial situation.

"Well, then perhaps you and my co-host can explain to the audience at home whether that decision includes an alleged gambling habit and mismanagement of shelter funds," Jill said.

She held up the complaints.

"I did a bit of digging, Rev. Hillman, and it seems you're being sued for $157,000 by Blackwood Casinos and your charity is under investigation for almost $200,000 in unaccounted for funds. Furthermore, these reports allege that you underreported public donations to your shelter for the last two years and over-reported your contributions, triggering an investigation by the IRS. Isn't that so Rev. Hillman?"

Hillman was sputtering now, his face red. "None of that's been proven, Missy. And I'm not going to sit here and be talked down to by some damn leftist."

He pointed his finger at the camera. "None of that stuff has been proven."

"Absolutely," intoned Brad Chadwick, obviously flustered. "And in this country we are still innocent until proven guilty."

"Yes, Brad, and I'm sure ANN will be all over this story." She smiled at him and noted that her co-host looked very uncomfortable. For all his flash, the big conservative bully wore his heart - and emotions - on his sleeve.

Jill looked up to see that the screen had gone black and the producer was signaling for a commercial break.

When Chadwick was sure the camera was off, he exploded. "What in the hell was that?" he yelled at Jill.

"I know what it was supposed to be," she retorted. "It was supposed to be a hatchet job. Nice move, Chad, getting your personal plant hired as my personal assistant. Unfortunately, you forgot to think ahead. I fed Tina that false tax lead knowing you'd waste time trying to discredit it."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said. "And it's not Chad. It's Brad. Don't make me tell you again because..."

"People!" Eric Longstreet was pointing giving the on-air countdown as the cameramen stood around, mouths agape at the spectacle. "In five, four, three, two, one..."

"We're back," said Jill, smiling at the camera "and now that the previous lively debate is behind us and we've lost our guest, it's time to move on to drug searches in school, pro or con."

Again Chadwick was frustrated when it turned out that Jill wasn't that far off his philosophy about drug dealers in school. They both agreed that they needed to be ferreted out, especially in wake of a highly publicized incident where two Texas high school students were found near death from an on-campus heroin overdose. Several times, Chadwick tried to trip Jill up by leading her to make comments that might be remotely interpreted as being soft on drug use. Each time she deftly dodged him, flashing a smile at the camera and complimenting him on joining her in the commitment to school safely.

At the end of the program, Chadwick undid his microphone and flung it off, where it bounced across the table before landing on the floor.

"Temper, temper," she said.

"Don't you condescend to me," he snarled. "I had nothing to do with putting a mole in as your assistant. That's a baseless charge and I don't appreciate it."

Jill stood and picked up her folder. "Oh really? Then why did you have the tax information?"

"Because my assistant gave it to me," he said. "This was supposed to be a softball story, a backdrop to introduce you to the audience."

"Oh really," Jill shot back. "I don't think so. I think this was your attempt at making me look like a fool from the get-go. Only you underestimated me, Mr. Chadwick. I'm not the kind of person who leaves my work to my assistants, especially assistants hired by my underhanded co-hosts."

Now Brad Chadwick had moved closer to her until his face was inches from hers. Jill forced herself to stand her ground.

"I told you," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I did not hire a plant to be your assistant."

"Yeah, right," she said and walked away. When Jill saw Tina by the door, she stopped. "You can tell Mr. Shale that you're fired," she said.

Part II

"I still can't believed how bad you made that jerk look!" Megan had already made the point but couldn't help making it again. "Sis, you totally trounced him. Mr. Big-Shot-Conservative-Author looked like a novice next to you. And the tension! God, Jill, you could have cut it with a knife."

"That's not even the half of it," Jill said, and launched into a blow-by-blow of what happened after the show.

"Oh, geesh," Megan said. "You think he would do that? Do you think he would really hire someone to spy on you and report back to him?" She paused. "Can you really say you're surprised?"

Jill sighed. "No, not really. As silly as it sounds I kind of had a premonition about it."

She didn't tell Megan about the dream. Her submissive urges - and the dream it spawned - were among the very few things she didn't share with anyone, not even her beloved sibling. "Besides, I'd been warned by several people that I should watch my back at ANN."

"Well, it sure paid off tonight, but I just hate that you are working at a place where you have to. You should be able to trust your co-workers, Jill. Betrayal shouldn't be an occupational hazard."

"Tell me about it," said Jill. "Apparently our little spat was the talk of the network. Guess who's got a 9 a.m. appointment with Bill Shale tomorrow?"

"It better not just be you," said Megan angrily.

"Settle down," said Jill with a laugh. "We're both being called in."

"You think they're going to make you keep that awful Tina as your assistant?"

Jill picked her cat up and sat down on the couch, scratching his head as she considered her sister's question. "No, I doubt it," she said. "Even Bill Shale would have a hard time defending such a transparent plant."

"Oh God, you don't think they'd fire you, do you?"

"No, I'm under contract. They'd have to pay me copious amounts of money to settle it. Besides, how would it make them look if I disappear after showing up their Golden Boy?" Jill tucked her legs underneath her as the Abyssinian curled up in her lap. "Besides, I have the feeling that Brad Chadwick would never be on board with something like that. It would make him look like he was afraid of competition - specifically female competition. I can't see him opening himself up to that kind of criticism."

Jill sighed. "But enough about me. How are things with you? How's the baby?"

"Emma's fine," said Megan. "And perfect. Can you believe she's already trying to say her ABC's?"

"Get out of town!" Jill said. "It seemed like she just learned to talk!"

"I know! It's crazy. Hold on a sec." Megan put the phone down and in the background Jill could hear her telling Emma to put something down. The toddler howled and then giggled as Megan gave her something else to pacify her interests.

"OK, I'm back," Megan said. "Yeah, time flies. Speaking of time, Trent got some off from work. Guess where he's taking me this weekend?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on. Guess." Megan insisted.

"Alright. He's taking you skiing."

"Bingo!" Megan giggled. "And on an overnight at the Alpine Inn. Mom's keeping Emma."

"Oh, honey, you're getting out on a romantic getaway! And alone, too! I'm so happy. Promise to tell me all about it?"

"I promise," said Megan. "I'd better let you go, though. I know you've got a big day tomorrow. Kiss Kiss."

"Alrightee," said Jill. "Till tomorrow, sis."

She hung up the phone and went upstairs to prepare for bed. It had been an interesting day, and tomorrow would likely be just as interesting. Jill couldn't help but wonder what Shale would say, or whether he would reprimand her as Megan feared.

Whatever was in store, she was pleased to note that she felt no fear. She just felt confident and noted that she'd passed the whole day without a single submissive fantasy. Maybe this job was just what she needed. Maybe the empowerment of taking on a man like Brad Chadwick was the key to the cure she sought. It seemed unlikely, but a year ago who'd have thought she'd be a personality on ANN? It seemed to Jill Parmele that anything could happen.

Chapter Four

Part I

When Jill arrived at her office at 8:15 the next morning, she began to regret not having an assistant - even an untrustworthy one. The message light on her phone was blinking and she'd no sooner set her briefcase down when the ANN receptionist, a short, prim-looking woman approaching retirement age - walked in with a beleaguered look on her face.

"Here," she said, handing Jill a stack of phone messages. "It seems you're a star. Anyone who's anyone in the media wants to interview you."

"What?" Jill took the slips and began to look through them. "Why?"

"Maybe this will explain," said the older woman and took the newspaper tucked under her arm, unfolded it, and handed it to Jill.

"Liberal trumps conservative chump in ANN debate," the headline read.

"Oh, good heavens," said Jill. "You've got to be kidding."

"Since when does the media kid?" asked the receptionist and then patted Jill's arm. "And by the way," she added quietly. "Good work. These dinosaurs had it coming. I'm just glad to see it was a woman who finally handed their asses to them."

Jill was so startled that she could only stare at the receptionist.

"Why the shock, dearie?" asked the other woman. "Do you think just because I'm old it means I don't sympathize? I marched for feminism and civil rights. Of course, I didn't put that on my resume when I applied here ten years ago but some jobs you take while holding your nose. When one hits a certain age executive secretarial positions are rare as hens teeth. But ANN figured I could still answer phones so here I am. Been with the bastards ever since."

Now Jill couldn't help but laugh. "Finally, a friend," she said, not doubting for a moment that the receptionist was the genuine article. "Thank you..."

"Lois," the woman said. "Lois Sharp."

"Lois," Jill repeated and then watched as the older woman began to walk away. Lois was halfway down the hall when the idea came to her. Leaping from her chair, she ran until she caught up with the receptionist.

"Lois," she said. "You may have heard that I'm looking for a new assistant."

Lois cackled. "Everybody has."

"Wait," Jill said, taking her arm. "I was wondering if, um, if you'd be interested. I need someone smart, someone I can trust. Someone who understands and who knows these people."

The older woman looked at her. "Sure," she said. "Just match my pay and keep in mind that I'll knock off at 4:30 whether you like it or not."

"Done," said Jill with a grin and a sigh of relief. "I'll tell Bill Shale what I want. Hopefully he'll approve it."

Lois laughed again. "I'll pack my desk. Right now you've got more power than you even realize."

Part II

Jill knew things had changed the moment she walked into Bill Shale's office. Rather than the slightly condescending air she was used to, they all looked at her with an uncertainty. Even Brad Chadwick sat up a little straighter, adopting a more defensive posture than he had at their first meeting. At that time he hadn't considered a liberal woman a threat. Now that he knew what she was capable of, his body language betrayed a man prepared to be more cautious.

"Gentlemen," said Jill as she took her seat.

For a moment, Bill Shale said nothing but just sat back rocking slightly in his chair. It was clear he was choosing his words and the chair creaked as he pondered what he was going to say. This thoughtfulness on behalf of a network head with a reputation for bullying was, Jill suspected, also new.

Finally, Shale sat forward and picked up two pieces of paper. He held them out to Jill, who - seeing they were identical - passed one to Chadwick.

"Last night's ratings," said Shale. "As you can see they are impressive. Very impressive. The blogosphere went wild with a blow-by-blow of our live taping so the midnight replay had the largest late night rating of any show in the market, including the late night talkies." He paused. "So why am I not completely thrilled?"

He waited, looking at Jill. Jill knew what Shale was trying to do. He expected her to explain the eruptions during breaks and after the previous night's show. It angered Jill that Shale was obviously holding her responsible, although it didn't surprise her. But the fact that Shale obviously sought to put the blame on her didn't mean she was going to play his stupid game.

She sat back and looked at the rating sheet. "Mr. Shale, after looking at this I can't understand why you wouldn't be completely happy. You sought to pit two polar political opposites against each other and counted on the fireworks to draw viewers. You obviously succeeded. Congratulations."

Shale blinked rapidly. He was a man used to people talking the bait. Jill could see that her refusal to do so left him stumped.

"There was quite a bit of ugliness during the show last night that got uglier afterwards, I understand," he said. "Accusations were made. That kind of thing tears down teamwork, Jill, and teamwork is very important to ANN."

Jill shook her head. "Respectfully, Mr. Shale, I think teamwork is important to ANN if one is considered a part of the team. But I don't think you or Mr. Chadwick or anyone else here sees me that way. You said you weren't looking for a liberal shill, but I have my doubts after what happened. In truth, I've had them all along. That's why I fed Tina those false notes. I suspected she might be sharing them with Mr. Chadwick. It turns out I was right."

Now Chadwick spoke up. His voice was quiet, but his tone angry. "She didn't share them with me. She may have shared them with my assistant ---"

"May have?" Jill laughed. "Good God. I don't know how you live with yourself."

"I told you, I didn't ---" Chadwick began but Shale put up his hands. "Look. Look. I don't want a replay of the argument you two had last night."

"That's fine," Jill said. "But I will not work with people who are actively seeking to stab me in the back. If your conservative philosophy and ideas are so strong, let them stand on their own merit. I find it a bit amusing that you even felt the need to try and sabotage my appearance on your show."

Shale's face turned red but he said nothing.

"I fired Tina," Jill continued. "From now on, I pick my own assistants."

Shale sat forward and jabbed his desk with his fat forefinger. "You're sitting in my office and making demands?"

"Only ones I have a right to make," said Jill.

Shale sat back, breathing heavily. Chadwick said nothing, but Jill noticed he tapped his foot against the floor in a nervous, repetitive fashion. She kept her cool, allowing the tension to dissipate a moment before speaking again.

"Lois, the receptionist. With your permission I'd like to make her my new personal assistant," she said.

Shale looked shock. "The old lady who answers the phones?"

"If you mean the lady at the front desk, the lady a few years from retirement, the lady who looks to be about your age then yes. That one."

Shale's face turned a bit redder. "Alright," he said, and then sighed. "Look, Jill. I don't want you to think you're not part of the team. What happened was probably just a coincidence..."

"It wasn't," Jill said. "I know it wasn't and you know it wasn't and most of all Mr. Chadwick knows it wasn't. But I'm prepared to put it behind me. However, if you want to pursue it I suppose we could bring Tina and Mr. Chadwick's assistant in here to discuss it..."

"No. No." Shale said. "You're right. Let's just let bygones be bygones. The ratings are what counts. I just don't like waking up and seeing the behind-the-scenes stuff in the news."

Jill kept her smirk to herself. She knew that was another lie. Bill Shale was all for anything that promoted ratings. What he hated was having his conservative guard betrayed as unable to match wits with his new co-host."

Jill stood. "Well, I've got a ton of phone calls to answer," she said. She glanced down at Chadwick before leaving. "See you on set."

Part III

"Want me to sweep the office for bugs before or after I get us some coffee," Lois asked.

Jill giggled. It felt good to be able to let her guard down and relax a little. "Later perhaps. For fun." she said. "Right now I'm to exhausted to be paranoid. Some caffeine sounds great."

She and Lois had been doing research in advance of the next few editions of Loggerheads. The next edition focused on the ongoing global warming debate, which Jill knew was not a topic she could knock out of the park. Like a lot of people, she questioned science that said all climate change was caused by humanity.

"He'll try to pigeon-hole you," Lois said when Jill shared her opinion and wondered aloud how to approach the subject. "You're going to have to find a way to make your points without letting him smear you."

"And get a word in edgewise," agreed Jill. "Hmmm. I just had an idea."

"I used to have those," said Lois.

Jill smiled up at her. "Don't be coy. You still have plenty from what I see."

Lois said down in the chair across from Jill, crossing bird-like legs that ended in square-toed purple pumps. The older woman was wearing a complementary purple plaid suit and her white hair was pulled into a bun. Earlier, when Jill had praised her on the outfit, her assistant had cackled about how it was a thrift store find. "I bought a red hat to go with it," she confided, and Jill decided then that she wanted to be just like Lois when she grew up.

"So let's hear it," she said.

"Well, I'm thinking that you're right. Chadwick will just try to paint me as someone who wants to use global warming legislation to hamstring American businesses because I'm anti-capitalist, yada, yada, yada. But I'm thinking I'll turn it around on him by asking him what is wrong with doing something to make a difference on the outside chance that we puny humans are impacting the earth."

"Good strategy," said Lois. "I've read his books and Chadwick's strategy isn't to debate but dominate. And you don't strike me as the type of woman who is going to let herself be dominated."

Jill took a sip of her coffee and swallowed hard. "Lord knows there's enough of them out there," she said.

"Indeed there are," said Lois. "Back when I was young it was expected that I'd marry, stay home and have babies. But it was never for me. After college I got a job as an executive secretary to a businessman who took me to - of all places - Hong Kong. All my mother worried about was whether I'd be able to find a husband 'over there.' She was old school and it bothered her that I might marry a foreigner. Two years later it bothered her even more that I hadn't."

"You never married?" Jill asked.

"Nope. Like I said, it wasn't for me. I'd work and spend what money and time I had traveling. I've never managed to save much but I sure have seen a lot."

"That's awesome," said Jill, putting her chin in her hand. "I don't know what I want, but I haven't really felt a need to settle down yet. I know I probably should, but...."

"Well, don't wait too long if you ever start wanting it," said Lois. "So many women marry to fulfill expectations but more and more are letting love pass them by for the same reason. It's funny. I marched for women's rights, was in NOW and the one thing I never figured out is why most women still listen to everyone but themselves. The used to listen to men. Now they also listen to television, magazines, other women..." Her voice trailed off. "They're true to everyone but themselves. It's enough to make an old protestor cry."

"Yeah," Jill said. "But I'm not sure if it's really that simple. I mean, if a woman is, say, traditional, or even old-fashioned she risks setting back the sisterhood by not taking charge."

"Balderdash," Lois scoffed. "If she can't take charge of her own life and go after what she wants, then she's not a feminist."

Jill looked at the older woman and was suddenly seized by the urge to ask her what she thought of a feminist who harbored traditional gender role fantasies, even though she advocated the opposite. But she didn't get a chance. A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Yes," she said. The door opened and Brad Chadwick poked his head in.

"I was wondering if I could have a word with you in private," he said.

"Sure," said Jill.

"I was just going," said Lois. "I'll just be at my desk, listening to Rush." She turned and winked at Jill, who tried to keep a straight face.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Chadwick," she said. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, I won't be staying that long," he said. "I just wanted to clear a few things up in private about the disagreement. And please, call me Brad."

Jill ignored the request. She knew it was catty, but she was still angry at him, even if she refused to let it show through on the surface. "Mr. Chadwick, I thought I'd already made it clear that I was willing to put the matter behind me."

"Well I'm not," he said. "Especially if you maintain any notion that I somehow planted Tina in your office."

"Your denial would be a little easier to buy if she'd been feeding information to anyone else," Jill shot back. "I can hardly be blamed for doubting you when all the evidence is pointing in your direction. You've yet to offer up anything that should make me believe that you weren't behind this."

"I certainly have," Chadwick said hotly.

"And what was that?" asked Jill. "I must have missed it."

"It was my word." He replied.

"Ah. Your word. I suppose you think that you've grown used to blind agreement with anything you say around here but you forget, Mr. Chadwick. I'm not among your fan base."

"You know, Miss Parmele. You're really ---"

"What?" she interrupted with a laugh. "Unpatriotic? Isn't that what you call a person who dares to disagree with a conservative?"

"No, the word I was looking for was rude. You could use a lesson in manners." He stood up. Jill stood up, too and walked over to the door, opening it.

"Well, when you run across someone capable of teaching me some, please let me know. Until then I have work to do. So if you'll excuse me..."

Chadwick walked to the door but stopped just before going out. "Don't think this is settled, Jill," he said. "Because it's not."

He walked out then and Jill shut the door. Leaning against it, she shut her eyes and allowed herself to finally feel angry, not at him but at herself. For all her bravado, Jill Parmele's knees were shaking.

Part IIV

That night's show was a draw, although Jill felt that by deflecting the expected attempts to label her she'd probably be declared the winner. She was. The blogs again heralded her for not backing down to Chadwick, who one blogger called a "paper tiger blown away by the winds of change."

But not everyone praised her. She had infuriated right-wing bloggers, who harped on the cancellation of Progressive Edge and predicted it was only a matter of time before she failed as co-host of Loggerheads. Some suggested Chadwick was deliberately cutting her slack in preparation for a "smackdown." Jill even caught some heat from liberal commentators, who felt she should have declared global warming was completely manmade and suggested that by not doing so she was throwing a bone to ANN.

It was a weak argument; Jill had simply said she didn't think anyone could be sure and that humans should err on the side of caution and take steps to minimize their impact on the planet by conserving energy and recycling. When she'd asked Chadwick whether he was anti-conservation, he had stumbled a bit finding no good way to be anti-recycling. Her stance had made her impossible to pin down, and made his attempts to do so look petty and evasive.

Still, she resisted offers by the morning talk shows who courted her as a guest, even though Bill Shale sent word that he had no problem with her doing so since it would raise the profile of Loggerheads. To Jill, making the rounds so early in the show's life smacked of self-promotion, and she didn't want her reputation to hinge on how deftly she handled the notorious Brad Chadwick. She hoped a few more episodes would have people actually listening to her ideas. Then she might start doing interviews.

There had been no arguments during the breaks of the latest show, no angry words afterwards. On camera, Brad Chadwick engaged her in his opinionated style. He called her Jill and she called him Brad, but only in front of the cameras. On breaks they discussed what was about to happen in a cordial fashion, and Jill assumed that her co-host had finally realized the futility of convincing her he hadn't been working against her.

She felt relieved by the change in his off-screen demeanor. It bothered her that their earlier exchange had left her so unnerved and shaky. Later, she tried to figure out what had shaken her so and then realized it was her first time alone with the man. Before she assumed his toughness was just for the benefits of others, but now she realized that he wasn't all bluster. Brad Chadwick was indeed a hard man. She was glad she didn't have to deal with him outside of work.

Chapter Five

Part I

Jill woke up the next morning to see snow falling. She smiled, remembering that the forecast called for snow up and down the upper east coast. While the weather would mean a chilly commute for her, it also meant the perfect conditions for the beginning of Megan's long ski weekend. She had talked to her sister the night before, listening as Megan shared how the overnight trip getaway had turned into a mini vacation for her and Trent.

"We'll actually be able to sleep in a bed without the baby between us," she giggled.

"Who knows, the two of you might even be able to have sex," Jill added.

"That shows what you know," said Megan. "Once you have a baby the bed is useless for sex because the kid is in it with you more often than not. On the upside, you get to discover all the other places that can be used for sex - the bathroom, the laundry room, the kitchen counter."

"Geesh, Megan, TMI," said Jill. "No more dinners at your house."

"We wipe it down afterwards," Megan said and the two burst into laughter.

Later, Jill again was hit by the nagging feeling that she was missing something. She was thirty-two years old and had a great career, but she couldn't help but feel that Megan, who was three years younger and a stay-at-home mom seemed so much happier and carefree. She knew life wasn't perfect for Megan; she'd put her teaching career on hold to be home with Emma. But Megan seemed unburdened by all the complications that came with juggling everyone else's expectations.

Jill thought about what Lois said, about how women should be true to themselves. When Jill closed her eyes and allowed herself to picture her perfect life, it still included a career but also a husband and children. But not just any husband. She knew she could never be attracted to the kind of men she attracted, and it made her feel sad.

She rolled over and groaned into the pillow. Jill wanted to go back to sleep, but knew she had to get up. She was just glad it was Friday and looked forward to a weekend of relaxing at home.

Traffic was stop and go on the beltway. Through the window, Jill could hear the limo driver swearing under his breath at drivers who ventured out even though their skills were no match for the road conditions.

At the ANN offices, she noticed far less people in the hallway than usual. The weather had been too much of them, so she was surprised to see Lois already seated at her desk.

"I didn't expect to see you here." Jill said.

"Why? Am I fired?"

"Of course not," replied Jill. "I just thought with the weather being like it is you'd be inside like most everyone else."

"Two years ago I went on a hiking trip in Nepal," said Lois. "The sherpa said I had more stamina than anyone else in the group." The older woman nudged Jill's arm and winked. "And he wasn't just talking about my stamina on the trail, either."

Part II

The clip on the video screen was definitely provocative. Badly drawn cartoon characters from Gay Brigade, a comedy program featuring an all homosexual army unit were shown saving their straight comrades from enemy fire before breaking into a dance number. But the show meant to mock both sides of debate on gays in the military had come under fire of its own.

Between Jill and Brad Chadwick, Gay Brigade producer and lead writer Aaron Sims sat laughing at his own work as the clip ended.

"Now I notice you're laughing, Mr. Sims, but this cartoon has a lot of people hot under the collar," Jill said. "And not just military types. You're under fire from the gay community as well."

"I happen to believe there's room enough in this world to offend everyone," said Sims, grinning.

"Well, keep in mind that a lot of men fought and died for your right to offend them," growled Chadwick. "It seems to a lot of people that painting straight troops as closet homosexuals who secretly want to join the Gay Brigade is flagrantly disrespectful."

"Dude, that's the point!" Sims bounced up and down in his chair with enthusiasm. As Jill watched, she wondered if he was high on something or just had forgotten to take his Ritalin.

"Well, Brad, in his defense, the military leadership in previous administrations as certainly exhibited behavior that could be construed as homophobic, and homophobes are sometimes anti-gay because they feel guilty about their own gay tendencies."

Chadwick laughed. "Typical liberal drivel," he said. "Anyone who hates gays is obviously gay. Yeah, right."

"I didn't say anyone," corrected Jill. "I said some. Mr. Sims has simply extrapolated a parody from the possibility that a portion of the hard-core male military leadership may have a softer side they're trying to hide."

"That's incredibly insulting," Chadwick said. "I think you owe an apology to every man who's ever died in uniform."

"Do you think any of those men who died were gay, Brad?" Jill asked with a smile.

Chadwick stammered a reply. "Well, possibly. I mean, maybe."

"How about definitely," said Jill and pulled out a handful of articles about gay servicemen who had been killed or wounded in duty.

"These were troops who were forced to hide who they were out of fear of the military leadership," she said, holding the article up to the camera. The story included photos of some of the servicemen. "So what's the greater wrong, Brad? Creating a parody of what might be or forcing someone to deny what is?"

"That's beside the point," Brad Chadwick fumed, "and I'm going to have the last word on this by saying that the majority of men who lead troops into battle are God-fearing, heterosexuals who don't deserve the kind of mockery that people like you and Mr. Sims seem think we deserve."

He faced the camera. "And that's all the time we have for this evening folks. See you again Monday for the next edition of Loggerheads."

The co-hosts smiled at the camera until the light went off, signaling the taping had ended. Jill reached down and removed her microphone. "Nice sucker punch there, Mr. Chadwick."

"Nice way to twist the facts, Jill." he replied.

"If they were so twisted, why didn't you use your closing moment to straighten them out rather than take that cheap shot." She got up from her chair. "Well, have a good weekend, anyway."

She shook Aaron Sims' hand. "Thanks for braving the snow to come in," she said.

"No problemo," Sims replied. "I'm a big fan. A big fan. Say, you wouldn't want to, like, go have a drink with me, would you?"

Jill grinned. Aaron Sims didn't look old enough to drink. "Thanks," she said gracefully, "but I've already got plans."

She walked down the hall to her office, eager to get her things and be on her way home. The on-air exchange with Chadwick had given her a headache. She was rubbing her temples when she got to the office. The ringing of her phone only made the throbbing in her temples worse, and at first she considered ignoring it until she glanced down at the Caller ID and recognized her mother's number.

"That's weird, she never calls me at work," Jill said and answered the phone. "Hello."

The sound of sobbing filled her with instant dread and she sunk down in her chair. "Mom," she said, her voice shaking. "Mom what's wrong. Is it dad?"

"N-n-no-no!" her mother wept. "It's your sister. There's been an accident!"

"Megan! Oh, God, no! What kind of accident!"

"She and Trent had a wreck on the way up to the inn. He's all right but she's been badly injured. Trent called from the hospital. She's asking for you, Jill."

Jill began to cry. "Oh. Oh no! Is she going to be OK?"

"I hope. I--I don't know. I can't get a flight out because of the weather," her mother said. "I was hoping you could, especially since she wants you there."

"Of course I'll get there. What hospital is she at?" Jill jotted the information down on a pad. "I'm leaving right now," she said.

Jill stood and looked out the window. The snow had moved up the coast, but at last report most of the planes were still grounded from the cold.

"I'll just drive," Jill told herself and then stopped. She got to and from work by limo. A limo sure couldn't take her on a six-hour trip. She sat down and put her head on her desk. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" she sobbed.

"Are you alright?"

Jill hadn't even heard Chadwick come in, but there he was, standing in her office. "My God, you're crying. What's wrong?"

Jill hurriedly wiped the tears from her face and stood, looking around as if confused. "It's my, my sister. My baby sister," she said, her voice soft and afraid. "There's been a wreck and I need to get to her. I need." She scrambled on a desk for the phone book. "I need a car. I need to rent a car."

Chadwick walked over and took the phone book from her. "Good Lord, Jill, you're a mess. Look at you. Your hands are shaking. You're shaking all over. You're in no condition to drive. In your state you wouldn't make it out of the city alive."

"But I have to go," she said. "I have to."

"Of course you do," he said and walked around to help her up. "I'll take you."

Jill stopped. "You don't understand," she said. "It's six hours away."

"That's alright," he said. "I didn't have any plans for tonight anyway. A drive will do me good."

Part III

For the first thirty minutes of the trip, Jill sat silently in Brad Chadwick's Land Rover, mindlessly running her thumb across the buttons on her cell phone.

"I'm sure they'll call as soon as there's news," Chadwick said. "They don't allow cell phones in the hospital and with privacy laws being what they are they're not likely to give you information without your brother-in-law's say-so."

Jill nodded and bit her lower lip. "I just wish I could get through to him," she said. "Or that he'd call me."

Chadwick looked at her. "You must be very close to her."

Jill gave a sad laugh. "Even though we're three years apart, our parents always said Megan and I should have been twins. You know how some older sisters will do anything to keep from hanging out with a younger sibling? Well, it was never like that with me and Meggie. I didn't want to do anything if she couldn't be a part of it. I even blew off a scholarship so I could go to school closer to home. I didn't want to leave her."

"But now you're six hours apart," Chadwick said. "So what changed?"

"Oh, she met someone and fell in love and, well, I know it sounds silly but when Trent came into her life I felt like he'd keep her safe. I felt a little better about going off to the big city. We've talked every single day. As a matter of fact, in just about two hours it will be the first 24 hour period in which we haven't spoken." Jill put her face in her hands and began to cry, an apology coming through her tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know I'm acting like a child."

"No you're not," Brad Chadwick handed her a handkerchief. "It's kind of funny what you said, though."

Jill blew her nose. "What part?"

"About how you felt like Megan's husband would keep her safe."

"How's it funny?"

"It just seems kind of inconsistent statement for a feminist." He said.

"Well, it's her, not me." Jill replied.

"So she needs someone to keep her safe, but you don't?" Even though his voice was gentle, the statement was loaded and Jill, exhausted from the emotional toll of her situation, felt muddled when she tried to articulate a response that didn't contradict her public statements.

"Megan's my little sister, Mr. Chadwick --"

"Brad," he corrected. "Please call me Brad."

"Brad," she repeated. "Megan's my sister, so naturally I feel protective."

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?" she asked. Although she didn't feel it was the time to debate, the conversation was keeping her from obsessing over her sister's situation, which Jill didn't think could necessarily hurt at the moment.

"It just occurs to me that your wanting your sister protected doesn't result from a belief that she's inadequate, but a genuine love and concern for her well being."

"Exactly," she said. "So?"

"So don't you think it's a little ironic that you consider your concern benevolent but consider the same concern by a man chauvinistic?"

"Well, it's different when men do it," said Jill. "They are protective because they think women aren't capable."

"Who says?" he asked.

"They do." Jill replied.

"They? Who's they? The men?"

"Yeah?"

"You've asked them? You've asked every man if their chivalry and old-fashioned desire to be the protection and breadwinner for their families is because they have to be? Or could it be because they want to be?" He smiled at her as he asked the question.

"No, I didn't ask every man," she said, exasperated. "It's just assumed --"

"Ah-ha!" he said.

Jill was momentarily speechless. "Alright," she said. "You got me. Just please don't ask me to re-do this debate with you on Loggerheads."

"Don't have to," Chadwick replied. "I've recorded the whole thing with my dashboard camera."

"Oh, no you didn't," she said, but her voice was laced with doubt.

He laughed then. "God, you believed me! I had you going!"

"No you didn't," she said, a trace of a pout in her voice.

"Well, let's put it this way. If you're that naive I won't rest until you have male protection. For your own good, of course."

Jill mock glared at him and then they both laughed.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For taking me to the hospital. You're right. I don't think I could have driven. I'm so worried."

"Don't mention it," Chadwick said.

Jill's phone rang then and she almost dropped it in her haste to open it. "Hello!"

"Oh, Trent, thank God it's you," she said. "How's Megan?"

The line crackled with static, but Jill was able to make out her brother-in-law's reassuring words. "Her arm's broken and she's got a really nasty cut on her hairline where here head hit the windshield. She looked so bad when they bought us in and was so out of it that they thought she might have a brain injury. But they did a scan and thank God, there's no permanent damage."

"Oh. That's great. That's just great," she said and began to cry again. "Can I talk to her?"

"No, hon, she's sleeping," said Trent. "The pain meds they gave knocked her out. But she asked for you like a zillion times. And of course she kept worrying about Emma. But she's safe with mom so that's one less thing to worry about. Where are you?"

"On the way. We just passed Medford."

"We?" Trent asked. "Are you with someone?"

"Yeah, a friend from work offered to drive me," she said.

"That's good," Trent replied. "You don't need to be driving alone. We'll see you when you get here. She'll be in Room 541 Bed 2. It'll be after visiting hours but if you explain the situation I'm sure they'll let you up."

"Thanks," said Jill, then, "Oh God. I forgot to ask, Trent. How are you?"

"I'm fine aside from some bruises and a headache," he answered. "I've got a couple of scrapes and bruises but the guy who slid into us it on Megan's side. Her airbag didn't completely deploy. Mine did. The minivan is toast."

"Geesh," she said. "I'm so glad you guys came out of this alive. You just don't know how much I worried."

"Sure I do," he said. "As much as we'd worry if something happened to you. So travel safely. And don't worry about calling your folks. I've already done it."

"Thanks," she said. "See ya later."

She snapped the phone shut and leaned back, breathing a sigh of relief. "She's going to be OK."

"That's great," he said. "You must be really relieved. I can't believe you referred to me as a friend."

"Your act of kindness has earned you a promotion," Jill laughed.

"Wow, from knuckle-dragging conservative blowhard to a liberal's best friend," he said. "That's quite a jump."

"I didn't say best friend," said Jill, closing her eyes.

"Give me time," Chadwick said.

"You always sound so confident," Jill said. "Are you as confident as you seem?"

"I've had the same question about you," he said.

"You first," he said.

"Honestly, no," she said. "I have just learned not to react to my fears."

"But they're still there?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm human. I'm just afraid if I respond to them they'll take me over and then I'll be vulnerable."

"To what?"

"I don't know," she said. "To other people, maybe To myself. But no fair. I asked you first."

"Hmmm. I'd say I am as confident as I seem, but I'm more likely to show it when I'm not. I haven't mastered my feelings, but most men haven't because we don't spend much time considering their impact because we consider them non-essential. They just kind of breeze through us. We don't get hung up. So anger, hurt, frustration - they may show but they don't stop us from getting things done."

"You're kidding, right?" Jill asked. "You think feelings are non-essential?"

"They are to getting things done," he said. "Feelings are a luxury to be indulged. But you can't be afraid of them or you'll either be led around by them or spend all your energy stuffing them down."

Jill said nothing, but just looked out the window. A lump was forming in her throat, and she didn't know why.

"It's snowing," she said.

"Yeah, I see that. But don't worry. We'll get there anyway. This vehicles a workhorse. You let me worry about driving. You just try to get some sleep."

Jill had never had any man tell her what to do. Instinctively she felt irritation - her natural reaction - and then felt it subside, like a tide being pulled out to sea. "OK," she said and laid her head back against the seat. Within minutes she was out.

Chapter Six

Part I

Jill tried to remain composed when she saw Megan lying in the hospital bed. For a moment, she doubted that Trent had told her the truth. A large bandage covered the left side of her sister's head and there were large purple bruises under both eyes. Her arm was elevated in a cast.

Brad Chadwick had insisted on accompanying her up to the room and held her elbow now as she gasped at the sight of her injured sibling. Instantly, Trent was also at her side, his eyes weary. Although it was four in the morning, it was apparent he'd had little sleep.

"It looks worse than it is, Jill, I promise," he said.

Jill hugged her brother-in-law to her. "I'm just so grateful that you're both alive. When I got that call, I can't even begin to describe..." She released Trent and walked over to her sister's bedside.

Trent turned to Chadwick and extended his hand. "I'm Trent Mabry," he said.

"Brad Chadwick." Chadwick took Trent's hand.

"I know who you are," said Trent as Jill rushed to her sister's bedside. "Megan and I watch you and Jill on Loggerheads. I have to say I was pretty shocked to see you come in here with her. Gosh, when Jill said a friend was bringing her you were the last person I expected to see. I thought you two hated each other."

Chadwick smiled. "Well, our political views make it difficult to be civil sometimes, but when I heard her break down on the phone after she got the call about her sister...let's just say a man would have to have a heart of solid rock not to be moved by that."

"I'm glad you were there for her," Trent said. "Jill's a tough cookie but she's not as tough as she looks. Megan and I worry about her. It sure would be nice to see her finally have some kind of anchor in her life."

"Oh, we're not---" began Chadwick.

"Oh, no," hastened Trent. "No, I didn't mean to imply that you two were an item or anything. It just surprises me to see her let anyone help her, is all. She tries to be so independent." He shook his head. "After a while, something's going to have to give."

The men looked over to see that Megan had awakened. A tear slipped from her bruised and swollen eye as she saw the face of her sister, and Jill murmured comforting words. But the reunion was short-lived.

A nurse was now in the room, carrying a syringe. "It's time for Mrs. Mabry's antibiotic," she said. "And as much as I hate to cut your visit short technically we aren't supposed to allow anyone up here until 8 a.m."

"I could go," said Trent.

"No," said Jill. "You don't have to go. You're her husband. You should stay. I'll get a room nearby and be back in the morning. I'll rent a car to get out on Sunday."

"Well good luck," said the nurse.

"Excuse me?" asked Jill.

"Apparently you haven't hear the weather report. Another front has developed over the mountain. More snow's coming in. They're calling for near white-out conditions through tomorrow." The nurse plunged the needle into Megan's IV drip. "It looks like you're stuck here."

"Well, that's that," said Chadwick. "I'm in no shape to drive back tonight anyway. We passed a strip of hotels on the way. We'll just book a couple of rooms and ride it out."

"Yeah, that's really all you can do," said Trent. "No use risking your lives. You never know what will happen in this kind of weather." He glanced down at his wife. "Believe me."

Part II

"You're kidding." Jill rolled her eyes as Chadwick climbed back in the driver's seat of the Land Rover and announced that the third hotel they had tried was booked solid.

"I wish I was," he said, rubbing his hands together against the cold. "It seems every ski party in the area has gotten snowed in and snatched up all the rooms."

He turned the ignition and guided the vehicle back out onto the road. The snow was falling harder now and they were running out of options.

"Here, I'll try this one," he said and pulled into a driveway with a flickering sign that read "Spruce Motel."

"Do you want me to go this time?" she asked.

"No," he said. "It's cold out. You stay here."

Jill watched as Chadwick exited the vehicle and jogged across the snowy lot to the small, dimly lit office at the front of the hotel. It surprised her how kind he was. When she'd read his book, she'd imagined a person who was as arrogant and disrespectful in his personal life as he was ideologically. Now she was forced to see him in a different light. Cynically, she wondered if he didn't consider the hours he'd spent taking her to see Megan as some sort of mechanism to confuse her into letting her guard down. Then she felt guilty for being so suspicious. And yet, there'd been the issue of Tina. A person who would plant a mole in a rival co-worker's office was capable of anything.

Chadwick was running back to the car now. A blast of cold air and snow followed him in as he opened the door and jumped inside. "I've got good news and bad news," he said.

"Please, give me the good news first," she said.

"They had a vacancy."

"And the bad news."

"It's a single occupancy," he said. "One bed. And they're out of cots."

"I can sleep on the floor," she said.

"Nonsense," he said.

"I insist," she replied.

"We'll argue inside, where it's warm." There was a tone of finality to his voice, and as he spoke Chadwick reached back to pull a bag out from the back seat. "I picked up my laundry before work today. No girl clothes, unfortunately, but I do have a t-shirt and some pajama pants if you want them. Come on."

Part III

The room was simple and clean and after the long ride all Jill could think of was getting clean. Fifteen minutes after entering the room, Jill emerged from the shower feeling far better than she had when she went in. She donned her bra and Brad Chadwick's t-shirt and pajama pants, which she was forced to roll up at the cuffs.

"You're still awake," she said when she reentered the room to find her co-worker sitting in a chair flipping through a magazine. I thought you'd be asleep."

"Oddly enough, I'm not sleepy," he replied.

"Me neither," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and beginning to towel dry her hair. "I was feeling exhausted but the shower woke me up. What are you reading?"

"The gossip page of Newsday. We're in it. Again. Listen: What began with a political free-for-all and reportedly a behind-the-scenes dust up has ended with the highest weekly ratings in cable history for ANN's newest political show Loggerheads. According to ANN sources who asked to remain confidential, the network may have underestimated the skills of liberal activist Jill Parmele, who fumed on set that co-host Bill Chadwick had sought to sabotage her first appearance. Could it be that for all his misogynistic bluster Chadwick is afraid of women? Perhaps that's why he's a misogynist."

He tossed the paper aside. "Great. That's just great."

"I'm sorry they printed that," she said quietly. "It should have remained private."

"The allegation shouldn't have been made in the first place," he said. "You were completely wrong to accuse me of putting a mole in your office. At the very least you should have asked me about in private about it before making a public spectacle."

Jill stood and walked across the room, continuing to dry her hair. "I told you I didn't want to discuss this."

"Well, I do," he said, rising to follow her. "And I know it's a lot to ask considering what you just went through but this might be the only place on earth where we can have a private conversation without someone listening."

"Yeah," she said. "It sucks to feel betrayed by your co-workers doesn't it." She cast a glance at him and looked away.

"I didn't betray you," he said hotly and then paused. "It was Shale."

"What?" Jill stopped drying her hair and stared at him.

"Tina was a plant You were right about that. And she was hired to be put in your office to feed my assistant information. Only I didn't know anything about it. I found out later, the day you and I met with Shale after the first taping. He told me after you left the office."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, indignant.

"I tried, when I went to your office, remember? You wouldn't give me the chance."

Jill dropped the towel in her lap. "Good Lord," she said. "It's worse than I thought."

"If it makes you feel any better, I let him have it after he told me. And I'm seriously considering firing my assistant," he said. "Burke's been with me for a long time and I have no doubt that both he and Shale had my best interest at heart, but there are ways to do things and ways not to do things."

"Your best interests?" Jill laughed. "How in the hell is it in your best interest to make you look like a total jerk?"

"That's neither here nor there," he said. "The point is, Jill, you owe me an apology."

Jill stood there, looking at him. When she spoke, her voice was level but cool. "Look, Brad," she began. "I appreciate your coming up here with me, spending your time and your money - which I will repay, by the way - but it doesn't change what happened at work. Even if you didn't have a direct hand in what happened, you might as well have. You should have known that those liberal-hating, women-disparaging jerks might pull something like this. If you were serious about wanting to fight me on a level playing field, then you should have made it very clear to them from the beginning not to interfere--"

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" Chadwick took a step towards her, his face angry and his voice raised.

"Because you know the way everyone at ANN thinks!," she countered, raising her voice as well. "What is it you guys always say? Liberals twist things? Liberals can't be trusted? Christ, Brad, that's practically your network's fucking mantra! And now you dare to stand here and pretend it never occurred to you that your little right wing posse would do anything to give you the advantage?"

"It didn't," he shot back.

"Yeah, right," Jill snorted and turned away, but Chadwick grabbed her arm.

"Are you calling me a liar? And I suggest you think before you answer." His voice was low with warning.

Later Jill would wonder what she was thinking. Had she wanted the situation to unfold the way it had? Had she been a hypocrite? After all, she'd told Chadwick that he should have foreseen what would happen at ANN. Later, in retrospect, she realized something in Brad Chadwick's demeanor and tone should have been warning enough of what would happen if she challenged him. Had that secret, hidden part of herself that longed to be disciplined recognized that Chadwick was just the man to do it. Had it known that all he needed was a reason? Was that why she gave it to him?

"Yes," she hissed. "Yes I am."

What happened then was nothing like Jill's dream. Brad Chadwick didn't offer up taunts or lengthy preambles as he pulled her over to the bed. But he did look up at her as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression so stern that her stomach flipped in fearful anticipation of what she already knew he intended.

"Remember when we were in your office and I said you could use some manners? Remember what you said to me?"

Jill fought to form an answer but couldn't. Instead she attempted to pull away but when she realized the strength of Chadwick's grip just stood there, looking at her slim wrist trapped in his broad hand and wondering - wordlessly - whether she was dreaming now. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. She could only look at him, wide-eyed, and shake her head.

"Since you seem to have forgotten, I'll tell you," he said. "You said when someone came along to teach you to let you know. Well guess what? I'm that someone."

He pulled her then - effortlessly, it seemed - over his knee and it was then that the reality of the situation hit Jill.

"What --- What the hell are you doing?" She pushed up against the bed with her upper arms as she tried simultaneously to roll off Brad Chadwick's broad lap. But it was like trying to escape a vice, and it immediately became clear to Jill that she was at his mercy.

"I'm going to spank you," Chadwick said matter-of-factly. "And you shouldn't be surprised. Frankly, I'm surprised someone hasn't done it already. If anyone deserves it, it's you."

Jill didn't even have time to consider a retort before a stinging slap landed on her bottom, a stinging warmth radiating from the epicenter of the impact. The shock of it was enough to jolt her out of the surrealism of the situation and throw her headlong into reality of her predicament.

"OW!" she cried, ashamed at the high-pitched, panicky edge she heard in her own voice. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't have any right to hit me! Let me go this instant or I swear to God, I'll..."

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence. Brad Chadwick smacked her again, about twice as hard. Jill squealed and bucked on his lap, cursing, and was rewarded with a salvo of hard spanks delivered in an alternating pattern. Left buttock, right buttock, repeat. Jill frantically tried to move forward and then backwards - anything to escape the pain that went from stinging to burning to throbbing, a pain far worse than anything in her imagination because it was frightfully, humiliatingly real.

Still, Jill fought not to cry, fought to restrain and control her reaction as Chadwick's heavy hand peppered her bottom with blows. When the middle of her bottom was so thoroughly spanked that she was sure she'd never be able to sit again he focused his efforts on the lower part of her bottom, spanking the tender skin just above her thighs and pushing her over the edge.

Jill had always been able to hide her emotions from those she considered adversaries. But not now. The emotion building in her chest built and built until - like a floodgate - it burst and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably.

Chadwick loosened his grip then, both on Jill's waist and on the wrist he had pinned to the small of her back. Jill brought her hand to beside her head. Her face was buried in the crumpled bed clothes wet from the tears she continued to sob. Her body was limp from the exertion of trying to fight both Chadwick and her own emotions. His hand was rubbing her back now in slow, circular motions and Jill felt herself, for the first time, experiencing the feeling she'd always dreamed of, the feeling she knew she'd recognize when she felt, the feeling of "freedom" that came with losing or relinquishing control to someone else. She had been wrong, she knew, to call Brad Chadwick a liar. He'd been honest with her, and obviously had been angry with Shale and his aide for putting a mole in her office. She'd unfairly labeled him, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd rightfully punished her for the misstep.

Then suddenly, the rebellious part of her awoke and - appalled at her comfort with the situation - she flew off his lap. Tears still streaked down her face, but her fists were balled up at her sides. Jill was suddenly filled with fury directed both at him, and at herself.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

"You know very well what that was," Chadwick said, crossing his arms. His voice was level and calm, and he looked perfectly relaxed, which infuriated Jill even more. "That, my dear, was a spanking. A very well deserved spanking and one I imagine you've been waiting someone to give you."

His calm, insightful answer enraged her, and before Jill could stop herself she moved to strike him. But Chadwick caught her hand before it made contact with her face and stood, pulling her to him. He looked down at her, his expression an mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You sure you want to do that, Jill? Are you sure you want to challenge me again? Because if you do I'll have no problem putting you over my knee and warming that pretty bottom again."

Jill felt a strange, warm heat in her lower abdomen accompanied by a pleasurable, shocking sensation that radiated throughout her body. She knew it was the sign of excitement that went beyond the physical. This man, this conservative brute of a man, was turning her on! And try as she might she couldn't control her attraction to him.

"Why?" she suddenly asked, a tear slipping from her eye. It was one simple word, but they both knew the question behind it.

"Because when push comes to shove, a strong man won't hesitate to handle a strong woman if she needs it," he said.

Jill didn't refuse the kiss that claimed her. She knew she couldn't if she tried. Brad Chadwick's mouth was warm and demanding, the beginning of stubble on his unshaven face rough against her smooth skin. When he picked her up and laid her gently down on the bed, the contact with the mattress hurt her bottom and she involuntarily arched her back, bringing her body up to meet him as he laid down with her. But both feelings were strangely comforting for her. Chadwick lay down beside her and trailed a finger down her face.

"I'm not going just going to assume that you want this," he said. "I do but I don't want you to say later that this only happened between us because you felt overwhelmed and vulnerable."

"I don't feel vulnerable," Jill whispered. "I feel....I feel...liberated. Do you know how long I've waited..."

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, worried that she was revealing too much and yet knowing that what she wanted was no secret to this man, who already seemed to know her more than she knew herself.

"Don't be ashamed, Jill. There's nothing wrong with wanting someone who can give you what you need. There's nothing wrong with your needs. I knew from the first day I met you..."

"How?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide in amazement.

"When I made the bad joke about the audience wanting to see me spank you, your expression....it was so uncomfortable, as if I'd just walked in on you naked or something." He leaned over and kissed her. "I knew then that I wasn't just going to be dealing with a worthy debate adversary, but a strong woman questing after a man strong enough to be her mate. Would it surprise you that the moment I saw you I knew I wanted to be that man?"

"We don't even know each other," she said, and he leaned down and kissed her, his hand running up and down the length of her body. Involuntarily, Jill moaned with pleasure.

"Don't we?" he asked and kissed her.

It was like slipping over a waterfall for both of them and neither could stop the progression of the physical contact. Her fingers reached up to nimbly unbutton his shirt and pull it over her shoulders as he pulled down the pajama pants she was wearing and gently cupped her sore buttocks as she sat up and pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her breasts, large and slightly pear-shaped, drew his mouth like a magnet and she felt the same familiar shock of desire as his mouth closed over an erect, rose-colored nipple.

Jill pressed against him, straddling his waist and enjoying the feel of his mouth on her breasts and the hard swell of his cock pressing against her through is pants. She tried to pull away, but he held her possessively to him, suckling first one breast and then another as her hips ground in frustration against his crotch.

"Please," she finally said, and he released her and allowed her to push him back. She swung a leg over him, sitting on his stomach and leaning to kiss his face, his neck body traveling lower till she was kissing his abdomen where she'd just been sitting, the smell of his sweat mingled with the odor of her own musky trace. When she reached his crotch she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, admiring the cock that sprang free from its confines and stood straight up like a flagpole. Now it was his turn to feel the jolt as the tip of her wet tongue flickered to lap up the first clear drops of pre-cum from the tip and then ran wide, circular laps around the head and shaft before taking him full into her mouth. With a murmur of pleasure, she drew the first half of his rod deeper to the back of her throat as her hand worked the lower shaft and balls. Brad Chadwick moaned at her natural skills and allowed her to bring him again to the brink before roughly pulling her away and turning her over on her back.

Their tongues and limbs twined as they kissed. Twice she worked herself on top of him, each time to be brutally reminded of her place when he flipped her back over with a growl. The third time she tried he restrained her by grabbing her still-sore buttocks and moving to bury his face between her thighs and torturing her pussy with darting licks and little sucking bites that set her awash in wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure.

And then when she was so wet that she could feel the slickness on her thighs, Brad Chadwick hauled Jill up on her knees and turned her around so that he was behind her. She could feel his hands roaming her bottom and without looking she knew he was admiring the view. It made her feel good then, to have a body like Juno, to be woman enough to elicit such passion from a big man like Chadwick. She tried to prepare herself for his entry, but still wasn't completely ready when he slid into her. It had been a long time and he was a tight fit. She heard him gasp in pleasure even as she moaned in pleasure pain at the invasion. For a moment they both were still and then he began to move, slowly at first, until she pushed up against him, hard, urging him to master her again. And he did, pumping her hard and mercilessly until she was crying out under the impact of his thrusts, overwhelmed and barely able- and then unable -to keep pace, collapsing in another orgasmic spasm that pulsated on his cock until he, too succumbed to his own.

They lay together in the tangle of bedclothes, entwined in one another's arms. Jill sought to sort out her thoughts, but found she was unable. The light of a gray down was peaking over the horizon when she finally closed her eyes and yielded to the exhaustion that overtook her.

Chapter Seven

Part I

The alarm clock by the bed already read 9:20 when Jill opened her eyes. She closed them again and reopened them, half-expecting to see her own room and realize that the past twelve hours had only been another dream. But her sore bottom, the muscular arm draped over her and the faint smell of sex that still clung to her told her otherwise.

Biting her lip, she stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort it all out. On its face, the situation seemed almost laughable. Liberal activist enters hotel room with her archconservative rival, argues with him and is soundly spanked and fucked into giddy submission. And yet, it had all felt so completely right and natural. Even now, the sensation of his arm around her body filled her with a sense of safety and security. His strength and closeness was like an aphrodisiac. Even now, she could feel a little tug of pleasure in her lower belly.

As if he could read her body, Chadwick pressed against Jill, nuzzling her hair and running a hand down her naked hip. "Mmmm," he said. "Good morning."

Jill felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. Part of her had worried that Chadwick would awaken mortified at what they'd done or - worse - dismissive of her. But he was clutching her to him now and planted a kiss on her neck as he pressed his pelvis against her bottom. Arching against him, Jill felt her legs part as if by a will beyond her control and he was inside her again, his cock filling her, hard and throbbing inside her wet but slightly sore pussy. He was gentler this time, holding her as they found the rhythm and rocked back and forth. Their mutual orgasm was long, intense and sweet.

"I need to see my sister," she said quietly after it was over and they'd lain there through several long minutes.

"You'll need someone to take you to the hospital," he replied, kissing her cheek.

Jill laughed and rolled over onto her back, feeling his slackening cock slide out of her as she did. "Are you offering me your services?" she asked.

"You just had my services," he said, kissing her.

"I mean your chauffer services," she giggled.

"If you don't mind my squiring you around the halls of Valley General Hospital then I'm all yours," he said.

"Thanks."

Jill took his face in his hands and looked at him. She wanted so much to talk about what had happened between them, but felt it was not the time for a lengthy conversation. Rising from the bed, she went into the bathroom for another shower. She wasn't too surprised when Chadwick joined her there, wordlessly soaping every inch of her body and then allowing her to return the favor. He was well muscled and slightly hairy, and she enjoyed the feel of the springy curls as her lathered hands moved in circles over his broad chest. The hot water was starting to run out by the time they finished and the dressed hastily before heading to the hotel restaurant for coffees and Danishes to go.

Snowplows were out, pushing the previous night's accumulation into deep drifts along the sides of the main thoroughfare leading to the hospital. The sky was still gray but a frigid, wind was rapidly pushing the clouds away.

Trent wasn't in the room when they arrived, but Megan was awake and smiled to see her sister. Her eyes were a little less puffy, Jill noted, and her color was better.

"Hi," Megan said, smiling and then winced as she jarred her arm.

"Oh, don't," Jill said, rushing over. "Let me help you." Taking hold of her sister, she helped move her into a more comfortable position.

"Thanks," said Megan. "You're the best. I'm so glad you're here. I remember seeing you last night, but it was kind of fuzzy. They put me on some pretty powerful painkillers but I refused them this morning. I think I'd rather be uncomfortable than loopy."

She stopped talking then and looked past Jill to where Chadwick was standing in the door.

"Ohmigod," said Megan quietly, looking at Jill. "I thought Trent was kidding but you really are here with Brad Chadwick. How in the world did you two make it here without killing each other?"

"She rode on the roof rack of my SUV," said Chadwick, laughing, and Megan blushed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was totally rude of me. I just never..."

"Yeah, yeah, I was the last person you thought you'd see in the company of your sister outside of Loggerheads." He smiled broadly.

"Well, if it's any consolation, all the preconceived notions I had of you as an ideological jerk have been blown out of the water," Megan laughed, extending her good hand to him. "It was so sweet of you to bring my sister up here. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Your husband already told me," replied Chadwick, gently shaking her hand.

"Yeah, but he'd like you anyway. He's a fan."

Jill looked at her sister with surprise. "He is?"

"Yeah, believe it or not," said Megan. "Didn't I tell you that he read Brad's book after I finished it? He said it made sense." She winked at Jill. "Of course, I disagreed with just about all of it, so I guess that makes me and Trent the world's oddest couple."

"Oh, there are odder ones," Jill said under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jill replied, plumping the pillows behind her sister's head and glancing up at Chadwick, whose mouth twitched in a small smile.

"Ah, you're back." Trent came in carrying a bag of fast food. "How long did it take you guys to find a place to stay?"

"We found a room over at the Spruce Hotel," said Jill.

"Room?" Megan asked, looking at first Jill then Trent.

"There weren't many vacancies," Jill hastened. "We ended up having to bunk together."

Trent and Megan exchanged glances. "Oh," they both said together. For a moment both couples were quiet until Chadwick asked if there was a coffee shop in the hotel.

"Sure," said Trent. "I'll walk with you. This coffee they gave me at the joint up the road is cold." The men left and for a moment the two sisters sat in silence.

"Wow," said Megan.

"No, it's not what you think -" began Jill.

"Uh-huh," said Megan mockingly.

"No, really," Jill said weakly.

"God, Jill, do you think I'm stupid?" Megan asked. "I can see it all over you!"

"See what?" Jill asked, standing and walking to the window.

"That satisfied just-fucked look," Megan giggled. Jill opened her mouth to deny it but Megan cut her off. "And don't deny it either, sis. I don't think I've seen you looking this relaxed in years."

Jill went over and shut the door of the hospital room and then peeked around the curtain.

"Don't worry," Megan said. "The other bed's empty."

"Alright," Jill said, pulling up a chair. "Yes, something happened. But it's not like we've been an item. Until he brought me up here I thought I hated him. But now...." She stopped and put her face in her hands.

"Oh sis, what?" Megan asked gently.

"I don't know," said Jill. "He's so...so different, Megan."

Megan smiled. "Maybe different is what you need."

"Yeah, but he's way different. He's so conservative and..."

"There's more?" Jill's sibling pressed.

"Well, yeah." Jill sighed, trying to find the words. She so wanted to open up to her sister, to tell her all of what she'd been struggling with, but wasn't sure how. "He's so old-fashioned and kind of bossy and...oh geesh..." She put her hand over her mouth for a moment. When she spoke again her tone was low and rapid. "Oh, Meggie, I like it. I really do. I mean, does that make me sick to be so attracted to someone so..."

"....dominant?" asked Megan.

Jill sighed and nodded. "Yes," she whispered and Megan began to laugh.

Jill felt her face flush deep pink. "Oh, great, now you're laughing at me!"

"No, no, no," her sister said hastily. 'I'm not laughing at you. I'm just laughing because what you obviously see as some taboo need is perfectly normal, sister. What woman - even the harriest liberal feminist - doesn't secretly dream of being Maureen O'Hara to John Wayne? And here you are acting shocked because you found a guy like that who turns your crank? Relax, babe. Instead of beating yourself up you should be patting yourself on the back! They don't make a whole lot of men like that anymore."

Jill felt a sense of relief flood her being. "Oh thank god," she said. "I was so afraid you wouldn't understand.

Megan looked hurt. "Of course I do, doofus. I'm just like that. Do you think I'd be with Trent if he were some little milquetoast? The reason I'm so crazy about him is because he's not afraid to stand up to me when I need it. Trent seems easygoing, I know, but he made it pretty clear when we got together that he was going to wear the Daddy Pants. And of course, I made a big show of objecting because I thought I should, but then one day I was like, 'Why am I fighting this guy and risking the relationship? Because society tells me I should?' So I stopped and just kind of relaxed into it. As it turns out, our differences make us a perfect match. We're kind of like those mirror images, you know, the kind that look just alike but are reversed. But what happens when you put them together?"

Jill smiled. "They make a whole."

"Exactly," said Megan.

Jill gave her sister a hug, being careful not to hurt her. "Thanks," she said. "You have no idea how much you have helped me, Meggie."

"You're welcome," said Megan and laughed. "I'm glad you figured it out, even if it took me getting all banged up for you to finally figure it out."

Part II

Jill and Brad Chadwick stayed with Megan and Trent until mid-afternoon which was when Megan finally convinced her older sister that she stood an excellent chance to survive even if she wasn't there to plump her bed pillows or offer her food and drinks.

"It's a long drive back, Jill," said Chadwick. "And we have to allow extra time for the road conditions."

"Listen to the man," said Trent. "He's right."

Jill raised an eye at the comment, recalling what her sister had said about Trent's take-charge tendencies. She'd never noticed it before, but then she'd never seen Meg actively challenge him and since Meg, who told her everything, never complained about or mentioned conflict she realized the dynamic had only been an issue when Meg made it one.

The women exchanged hugs and the men handshakes before parting, and Jill promised to call as she walked out of the hospital room. Once outside the hospital, she hugged her coat tightly around her, but it afforded little protection. When Chadwick saw her shivering, he wrapped part of his overcoat around her and gave her a gentle kiss on the head. She looked up gratefully at him as they began walking across the lot to where he'd parked his vehicle.

A few flurries had coated the windshield and Jill helped scrape them off as Chadwick turned the Land Rover on so the defroster could melt the rest. The couple was just about to get back in the vehicle when they heard someone calling out.

"Hey!" the figure called, dodging piles of slush as he ran towards them. Jill looked at the thin bearded man as he approached, trying to figure out if he was someone she recognized. It wasn't.

"Hey," the guy said again as he reached them. "I saw the two of you this morning at the Spruce Hotel. Aren't you those two from that cable show, the one everyone's talking about?"

"No," said Chadwick, helping Jill quickly inside the vehicle. Jill made it a point to keep her face averted from the stranger as he did so. "I think you're mistaking us for someone else."

"No, dude, I'm sure I'm not," the guy said. "You're Brad Chadwick and that's Jill Parmele, right? You're the two from Loggerheads!"

Chadwick made a move to the driver's side of the window but the man blocked him. "C'mon, man. Can't I even get an autograph? I love your books."

"No, because I'm not who you think I am," said Chadwick, angrily. He pushed past the stranger and walked to the driver's side door. "Now get out of my way. Please."

"Fine, whatever dude," the scraggly man said. "Whatever."

Chadwick climbed into the vehicle and guided it out of the parking lot, glancing into his rearview mirror. "Shit," he said.

"What?" asked Jill.

"I don't know," he replied. "I just didn't like the way that guy looked at us. I get the feeling he's trouble."

Jill looked into her side mirror. The man was still standing there, a smile on his face. "I think you may be right."

Part III

At the next stop, Brad Chadwick picked up sunglasses and ball caps for both of them. The trip had been so spur-of-the-moment that neither of them considered the ramifications of being spotted together in public. Their appearances at the hospital could be easily explained; Brad had taken Jill to see her sister. But if anyone recognized - or heard - them at the hotel, that could be more problematic. ANN had a strict policy prohibiting fraternization between onscreen personalities.

"It's my fault," said Chadwick. "I let my attraction to you get the better of me.

Jill glanced over at him. "You regret what happened?"

"No, no. I didn't mean that," he answered. "I regret not considering that we'd be recognized. Eventually we'll have to tell the network and get them to amend the policy. I just don't want news of our relationship to get back before we do. There's too many loose lips around that place. The tabloids would have a field day."

"Maybe he was just who he said he was," said Jill. "Just some fan who wanted an autograph."

"Maybe," said Chadwick, but he didn't sound convinced and Jill wasn't sure what to make of the situation. She wondered if they would amend the policy and decided that if Chadwick asked Shale he probably would. Chadwick was, after all, an ANN powerhouse and the number two conservative network had made it clear they'd pick him up should he ever desire a change of scenery. But Jill wasn't sure what would become of her if things went the other way. Her options were more limited. Taking the ANN job had made her less desirable to mainstream networks, where some commentators were still suggesting she'd sold out. And even the number two conservative one might not want to directly copy the Loggerheads format. Sure, she'd have a big contract buyout check, but what after that?

Jill decided not to think about it. She'd have to cross that bridge if she came to it. She felt Chadwick reach for her hand, and smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Did you catch what I said?" he asked.

"About what?" she replied.

"The 'r' word."

"Ah," she replied softly. "Yes, I caught that. You said 'relationship'. Is that what we have? And is that what you want?"

"We both have to want it," he said. "But I worry that it might be a little harder for you than for me."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because of what happened in that hotel room, before the sex. We need to talk about it, Jill, because you need to know. That wasn't foreplay." He looked at her, his face serious. "All that stuff I say in my books about the patriarchy - all the stuff you probably hate - it's me. I'm an old-fashioned man and in my family I'll be the leader. When I exchange wedding vows, the woman I marry will be expected to promise to 'obey.' And once she promises to do that, she risks finding herself over her knee if she 'forgets.' If you're going to be with me, you need to understand that, Jill. I think deep down you do, and this might even be what you want. But I worry a little that your conditioning may cause you to resist, even if you don't really want to."

Jill looked out the window at the passing scenery. Since their encounter in the hotel room, she had enjoyed warm and passionate thoughts about the sex. However, she had compartmentalized the spanking, tucking it away to sort through later. Now Chadwick was forcing her hand.

"What you say ---" she began, her voice catching. "There's truth to it, Brad. I've never been attracted to sensitive men. I always fantasized about a guy like you." She looked down, her face coloring. "A guy who wasn't afraid to spank me if I needed it. I always thought it meant I was a freak, and I've spent my whole adult life trying to 'cure' myself. It's what led me to feminism, and don't get me wrong - feminism has been good for me - but I think the expectations it sets for women have made it hard for women like me to find the kind of men they want."

"It seems to me that if feminism were about self-determination, it would support your right to choose what you want, even if means being a submissive woman."

"That's what Lois said," she replied.

"Lois? Your new assistant Lois? The one who's as old as Bill Shale?" They both laughed.

"Yeah," said Jill. "That Lois."

Chadwick grinned. "I knew there was a reason I liked that old broad."

Jill slugged him on the arm. "Stop it," she said, then crinkled her brow as she considered his words. "Do you think I'm submissive?"

"You tell me," he replied.

"No. Well maybe," she said. "There's so much I need to sort out, Brad, and part of it is really scary for me."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm here to help you. And as long as I'm around you don't have to be scared of anything."

Chapter Eight

Part I

"There you are!" Lois shot Jill a slightly peeved look as she walked into the office. "We were supposed to go over those war protestor tapes this weekend for the Wednesday show. Remember? At my apartment. Over tea? Tea followed by a couple of stiff drinks?"

"Oh geesh." Jill put her briefcase down on the desk. "I am so sorry. I was upstate all weekend. My sister was in a wreck. I found out Friday after work and went up to see her. We just got back last night."

"In that case, you're excused," said Lois. "Is she OK?"

"Her arm's broken and her face looks like she went a couple of losing rounds with a prize fighter, but other than that, yes."

"Well thank God," said Lois. "I just wish I had known. I would have sent flowers."

"That's a good idea," said Jill. "I don't think they're letting her out until tomorrow. Could you please check with the florists and have something sent to her room? She's in 514 Bed One at Valley General in Alpine."

Lois jotted the information down. "Got it," she said. "What kind of flowers?"

"Something cheery," said Jill. "Sunflowers, if you can get them. She loves sunflowers."

"I'll call Daisy Mae Florists on Third Street. They have everything." Lois stood and walked back to her desk.

Jill sat down and began to go through her messages but found it hard to focus. She and Brad Chadwick had decided that the second week of their show was no time to reveal or even give anyone a clue as to their relationship. They'd play it cool at work and try to meet discreetly when they could, taking special care to wear disguises when they rendezvoused. They were both mature adults and allowed for the fact that things might not work out for them. If they did, they'd break the news to Shale at the end of the season. If not, no one would be the wiser.

Since there'd been no tabloid buzz about their trip, both Chadwick and Jill felt it was safe to assume the guy in the parking lot had probably just been a fan and not a member of the media. But still they'd debated whether to tell Shale about Chadwick's taking her to see her sister and he'd decided honesty would be the best policy, just in case. But the news would have to wait; Shale was at a conference and wouldn't be back until the middle of the week.

"In the meantime, we shouldn't trust anyone but each other," Chadwick had advised before dropping her off at her house. "Not even our assistants."

Jill had wanted to respond that her assistant could be trusted, but thought the better of it. "You don't have to worry about me," she said.

Part II

The topic for the Monday night show was gun control and the guest was Calvin Pate, the resident of a small, liberal enclave notorious for passing progressive legislation designed to make a political statement. The latest decision by the board was to "set an example for peace" by having residents sign a pledge never to own guns. The signed pledge was laminated, put under glass on a small podium underneath the park's largest oak, which the council had named the Peace Tree a year earlier.

Then the burglaries began. They were small at first but quickly grew more frequent and violent. Residents began community watch programs, but the break-ins continued until they progressed to home invasions. Then one night, the burglars chose the wrong home. Although Pate had signed the pledge, the burglaries had prompted him to break the pledge without telling anyone. He'd bought a gun from a co-worker, and when the two thugs broke into his house, he pulled out the unregistered revolver and shot them both, leaving one paralyzed. The break-ins immediately ceased, but Pate's actions had become national news.

Jill was going over the details of the case when Lois came in with coffee. "Oh, this is going to be a tough one," said the older woman, placing a steaming latte on Jill's desk.

Jill sat back and sighed. She was an avid proponent of gun control, but it would be a hard to argue in favor of it when a self-professed liberal - under pressing circumstances - had turned to a gun for protection. Jill felt even worse when she saw the rap sheet of the two burglars. Assault. Attempted rape. Carjacking.

"Geesh," she told Lois. "These guys were dangerous."

There was a rap on the door and Lois stood and walked over. "Hold your horses," she said and then opened it. "Jill, it's Mr. Chadwick.

"Thanks, Lois," Jill said and reached down on her desk for some envelopes, which she handed to her receptionist. "If you'd like an early lunch you can leave now if you don't mind mailing these on the way."

"Sounds good to me," said Lois. "I need to stop by the library anyway."

She walked out and after Jill was sure she'd rounded the corner, she shut the door. "Mr. Chadwick," she said with mock formality. "What brings you by?"

"I'll tell you what brings me by, Miss Parmele." He grabbed her Jill and pinned her up against the wall, bringing his mouth to hers in a deep, passionate kiss, which she eagerly returned. "Show prep."

Jill smiled and nuzzled his neck. "Trying to charm the competition, I see," she said. "It won't work. Our relationship won't change my political views."

Chadwick brushed a piece of hair away from her face and kissed her again. "I wish I could say the same for myself," he said. "I woke up this morning kicking myself for not having voted for Clinton. You don't think liberalism is a sexually transmitted disease do you?"

Jill gave a dramatic sigh. "If only it were. I'd go back in time and convert all the men into Democrats before they had a chance to vote for Bush."

Chadwick laughed and then his face grew somber. "I wish we could have lunch together," he said. "This sneaking around is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous but likely necessary," replied Jill, gently nipping his bottom lip. "You said yourself it's too early for us to say anything."

"I'm just not used to hiding," he replied. "From anyone. Or anything."

"Me neither." Jill disentangled from him and walked around to the side of her desk. Noticing the notes for the night's show she quickly gathered them and began putting them back in the folder.

"Don't worry, I didn't come here to copy off your paper, Jill." Chadwick's voice was indignant.

"No, it's not that...." Jill shut the folder and sat down on the edge of her desk. "Brad, I'm sorry. I wasn't implying anything by doing that. I don't know, this is still so awkward with us being political rivals onset and secret lovers off. We still have to keep the two separate."

"I agree," he said. "But I don't expect to be treated with suspicion every time I walk into your office, Jill."

"I'm not," she said weakly.

"This weekend meant something to me, Jill," he said. "And that's not a real easy thing for someone like me to admit. I don't want to be treated like an enemy in private just because we're required to disagree on air." Chadwick walked out, shaking his head as he went. "See you on the set."

For a moment, Jill considered calling after him but thought the better of it. Closing the door, she leaned against it, blinking hard to keep tears from coming to her eyes.

Part III

"Good evening, I'm Brad Chadwick."

"And I'm Jill Parmele."

"And this is Loggerheads."

"In the studio tonight is Calvin Pate, liberal peace activist and longtime resident of Friendsdale, California, whose residents recently took a pledge not to own firearms of any kind." Brad Chadwick turned to the monitor, where the image of a man with a long, frizzled beard, a ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses appeared. "Good evening, Mr. Pate. Thanks for joining us tonight. Now you were one of the people who signed this pledge not to own firearms, correct?"

"That's right, I did."

"And then a rash of break-ins started in Friendsdale. What can you tell me about them?

"Well, they started out small and usually were during the day when folks were at work. And then they just got worse. Some houses started getting broken into during the night when people were asleep and then finally there were two home invasions just on the edge of town. One guy got knocked unconscious in his own living room."

"Do you think your well-publicized gun pledge made you a target, Mr. Pate?" Chadwick asked.

"I don't know, maybe," he said.

"That's not exactly fair, Brad." The camera panned to Jill. "I mean, after all, gun ownership - both illegal and legal - is rampant in urban hubs and look at the crime rates there compared to little towns like Friendsdale. And in fact, the men who broke into the houses in Friendsdale were from the nearest urban city and neighborhoods known for having a gun culture. I think that says something about the differences in values."

Jill sat back, feeling she had scored a valid point.

"Miss Parmele, liberals like you also slapped the same "gun culture" label middle America flyover country where many god-fearing, law-abiding families own guns. Are you actually comparing the majority of these good gun-owning citizens with the criminals who terrorized those people in Friendsdale?"

Jill opened her mouth to reply, but Chadwick cut her off.

"But alright, let's talk about those values if you want," Brad said with a laugh. "Now, Mr. Pate, what happened two weeks ago when you woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of breaking glass? Did you call the police? Did you go downstairs and try to reason peacefully with the thugs who had broken into your house? Or did you reach for the firearm you'd purchased in violation of your liberal pledge and shoot them?"

"You're making it sound like I just went in there gun slinging," Pate said, his voice defensive. "I was scared, OK. I've got a pregnant wife and a kid and I wanted to protect them....I know what I did was wrong."

"Wrong?" Chadwick raised his voice. "Why is it wrong to protect yourself?" He picked up a wanted poster and held it up to the camera. "Did you know one of the guys you put in the hospital is wanted for attempted rape?"

"Mr. Pate, Jill Parmele here." Jill interrupted Chadwick's tirade. "Like me, you've been a life long gun control advocate, correct?"

"Yes, Jill, I have."

"Do you feel the rampant availability of guns forced you into a position where you had to hold your nose and go against your values in order to protect yourself?"

"Exactly!" Pate said, nodding his head. "I felt helpless. And if other people didn't have guns then I wouldn't have had to get one."

"So let me get this straight, Jill," Chadwick shot back. "You think if guns were out of everyone's hands then crime would magically stop?"

"It would prevent a lot of situations like this," said Jill. "People shouldn't feel like they have to arm themselves but thanks to groups like the NRA that push gun ownership like it's some sort of right ---"

"It is a right, Jill, a constitutional right. It's called the second amendment in case you've forgotten."

Jill mentally chided herself for the ill-chosen words. She knew she had lost major points in the debate with that one and moved to recover.

"People shouldn't have a right to own just any gun, Brad. But the NRA..."

"Who says they shouldn't have the right, Jill? You? People like Calvin Pate here who paralyzed a man for life? Has it ever occurred to you that your liberal friend here behaved in a manner directly opposite to that of a responsible gun owner? He bought a gun off of someone else, bypassing the waiting period, left it loaded in his house without a trigger lock and fired it without realizing its power. He said himself he never meant to hurt anyone, and yet he never bothered to take a gun safety course that could have taught him to disable an intruder without putting him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life! Do you know how many law-abiding gun owners and gun collectors there are out there who have never seriously wounded anyone - even in defense of their homes? And yet you and your liberal friends put them in the same class as these thugs that broke into Mr. Pate's home. Shameful."

The camera had panned back to Jill, but the music ending the segment had begun and the light cued her to head into a commercial break. "We'll just have to agree to disagree," she said. "Next up, a look at the controversial Senate race shaping up in Minnesota."

"Nice job, Brad," one of the control men said from the darkness. "It looks like you're back on your game."

Part IV

"Anyone can have an off night." Megan said later when Jill called. "You've been through a lot the last few days, and let's face it - the change in your relationship with Brad Chadwick may make it a little harder for you to be as aggressive with him as you'd like."

"It didn't seem to make it harder for him to be aggressive to me," Jill pouted, rubbing Taj's back. The cat had sulked over being left alone over the weekend but finally came around when Jill came home with an offering of fresh salmon. Now he purred and kneaded Jill's tummy through the lap quilt.

"That's just because he's a guy," said Megan. "Guy can be aggressive without feeling guilty or concerned about how it makes someone else feel."

"I've never felt ashamed or concerned," said Jill indignantly.

"Yeah, but you've never been in love," Megan said.

"Who said I love him?" Jill asked.

"I think the two of you are certainly headed in that direction if you're not there already," said Megan. "Trent and I both picked up on some serious chemistry between you two."

"Yeah," sighed Jill. "But I just..."

"Just what..."

Jill was quiet for a moment. "Megan, you don't think Brad Chadwick would be stringing me along just to gain an advantage on the show, do you? I mean, the media has been pretty hard on him last week and having our tiff made public didn't help. Maybe this whole thing - taking me up to see you, the consideration, the sex - maybe it's all been a ploy to undercut me at work."

"And maybe you're so embarrassed with your performance tonight that you're willing to blame anyone but yourself." Megan said.

"Ouch," said Jill. "That was kind of catty."

"No, sis, I'm not being catty. I'm being honest. I don't think your conflict is with Brad. I think it's with yourself. If guys have one good ability, it's the talent for keeping things separate. Brad apparently only treats you as an adversary on the set, but away from it you're his lover so that's how he treats you. If you don't learn to follow suit, I'm afraid that you're going to risk pushing him away and losing a really decent man."

"I have my career to consider," said Jill.

"Well there are more important things in life than work," Megan said and then paused. "Oh, honey, I'm not trying to be hard on you. I just don't want you to use work as a wall to isolate yourself. You've done that for so long. I get the feeling you want Brad a lot more than you're willing to admit. So try to find a balance there, OK?"

"OK," sighed Jill. "Kiss, kiss. Until tomorrow, sis."

"Right back at you," said Megan. "Goodnight."

Jill hung up the phone and closed her eyes. Both Chadwick and Megan had made the same observations about her. She was being mistrustful of him, but why? What was she afraid of? She looked at Taj, who peered up at her through his half-closed lids.

"They're right. I've got to get a grip," she said to the cat. "If I keep this up you're going to be the only man in my life."

Chapter Nine

Part I

Jill threw her head back and opened her legs to Brad Chadwick, surrendering herself to his masterful touch and the demanding lips that blazed a trail down her neck to her breasts. She arched her back and moaned as his mouth latched onto the sensitive tight bud of her nipple.

The agreement to cool their relationship until Shale had been advised of it hadn't lasted long. When Chadwick had called with the simple message, "I need to see you," Jill had relented without argument, not just because she wanted him as well but also because she needed to prove to him - and herself - that she trusted him.

"I'm glad you didn't turn me away," he said against her breast, as if reading her thoughts. "I know we need to be careful but I can't get you out of my mind when we're apart."

"You're sure no one saw you drive over..." The words were out before she could stop them.

"I told you," he said. "No one saw. Don't worry." And then he pulled her legs over his shoulder and buried his face between them, vanquishing all concern from her mind and replacing it with pure, hot rapture.

Later, as they lay together, Jill traced the arm around her with her finger, marveling at the firm muscles under the smooth skin. Chadwick was in very good shape for a man his age, and - to her delight - displayed the stamina of a much younger fellow.

"Hmmm." He breathed into her hair. "I wish we could just sleep in tomorrow."

Jill glanced over her shoulder at him. "You want to stay the night?"

"I am going to stay the night," he said definitively. "You don't think one time with you is going to be enough, do you?" He moved to pull her under him but she pushed away and sat up.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," she said.

"And why not?" While his tone was patient Jill detected an undercurrent that implied he required an answer.

"It's just that, well, we've got a big day tomorrow and I need to get a good night's sleep to prepare for the debate since it's an important one to me," she said.

"Ah, the feminism debate," Chadwick said. "Christ, hon, you could argue your case for feminism with your eyes closed."

"And you couldn't argue against it with yours closed as well?" she retorted.

Chadwick frowned at Jill's sharp tone. "Obviously. We already know where we stand, Jill. So what's the problem?"

"I just don't think I need anything too heavy before this debate - anything that will soften my resolve."

"Like spending the night with me?" Chadwick laughed. "Good Lord, Jill, so now spending the night with the man you love will act as some sort of Kryptonite to your Superwoman argument? I always knew feminists were paper tigers but this is ridiculous."

"No, that's not what I'm saying," Jill retorted. "And feminists are not paper tigers!"

"No, you're right. Calling you a paper tiger is giving you too much credit. If you fear a night of lovemaking is going to addle your wits then we'll have to use another descriptor."

He paused. "What's weaker than paper?"

"All right. That's it," said Jill. "This conversation is over." She got up from the bed. "I'm not going to sit there and be insulted. You need to leave."

Chadwick sat up on the edge of the bed and smiled. "So make me."

"What?" Jill looked at him, dumbfounded.

"I'm not going to be turned away from the bed of the best-looking, most exciting woman I've ever met simply because she's in a snit, especially now that I've officially claimed her."

Jill's eyes widened. "Did you say 'claimed' me? What am I now? Real estate?"

"No, you're a woman in need of a strong man to lay down the law to her. And I'm telling you that unless you can find a way to get me to leave you'll have no other option but to bring your ass over here right now. And let me add that your little outburst has earned you a spanking. I told you when we first got together that I'm not going to be ordered around, ordered out or anything else. The sooner your learn the consequences for that, the better."

"Well, in that case we don't have a relationship," Jill said.

Chadwick ignored her. "That's another call you're not qualified to make."

Jill threw up her hands. "Oh great. Now I'm not even qualified to decide if I want to be with you. Oh that's rich."

"No richer than your attempt to send me away from your bed over some childish fear." he crooked his finger at her. "Now get over here, Jill. Don't make me come get you."

"Go to hell," Jill shot back, pulling on her sweat pants. She had just donned her tank top when Chadwick rose from the bed. He was on her in two strides, his long arm around her waist as he pulled her back to the bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"I told you," he said calmly. "You're getting a spanking. I'm not going to put up with your bossy dramatics."

"No!" she said, but he ignored her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled her over his lap, hooking a finger in the waistband of her pants and sliding them down to reveal the firm globes of her bottom.

Jill's hand shot back in an attempt to stop what was coming, but he just laughed. "You should know by now you can't stop me if I decide to spank you." He grabbed her wrist and trapped it at the small of her back. "I think that your attitude calls for a bit more severity, Jill."

He reached then for the flat-backed wooden hairbrush on her bedside table. Jill's eyes widened in horror. "NO, Brad! You can't!"

"I can and I will," he said and began to spank in a determined pattern. Left buttock, right buttock, left buttock, right buttock - the smacks fell with solid regularity, landing smartly on target each time despite Jill's vain attempts to squirm away from the pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" she cried. "Please stop, Brad. I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

Chadwick stopped, rubbing the surface of her burning bottom with his broad hand. "What are you sorry for, Jill?"

"I-I don't know!" she cried out honestly.

Chadwick leveled another volley of smacks at Jill's already punished bottom before stopping and pulling her closer to him, holding her tightly as she sobbed into the bedcovers. "Well let me help you," he said. "You don't trust me, Jill. You seem to think that if you soften up and allow yourself to get comfortable with a dynamic we both want then that will somehow weaken you. What's more, I have to wonder if you think I'm pushing this as some sort of strategy to weaken you." He smacked her hard across her bottom. "Do you have any idea how insulting and self-centered that is?"

Jill flinched and wailed at the impact of both the blow and his words. He'd hit a soft target - in both instances - and they both knew it.

"You're right, Brad," she sobbed. "But I've never had to trust anyone beyond myself and I don't know if I can do it!"

Brad turned her around and pulled her into his lap. "Maybe it wouldn't be so hard if you'd just stop fighting, Jill." He tipped her face up to his. "I love you."

Jill blinked but said nothing, absorbing the words. Two more tears welled in her eyes, but this time not from pain. With a cry she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you, too," she said, and meant it. Brad Chadwick, she knew, was just what she needed and the only barrier to her happiness with him was the suspicion she felt of all men. She told him this as she lay nestled in his arms and he sighed and kissed her head.

"Maybe that's because I accept and live the natural order of things," he replied. "Men are the natural leaders, Jill. We can debate this till the cows come home but you can't change biology. You're swimming against the tide and all that will ever do is exhaust you."

He was right, of course, and she could feel it in her bones. The very act of defying him had left her emotionally and physically drained and yet his domination of her and her ultimate submission left a feeling of languid contentment in its place. She was almost asleep when he straightened his body out by hers and held her close, the length of their bodies touching from cheek to toe. Chadwick seemed to understand that at that moment Jill needed holding, not sex, so he held her there, murmuring reassurances until she fell asleep.

Part II

"What a crock," Lois Sharp snorted as she and Jill prepared for the show. "I can't believe there are still enough stupid people left in the world to join groups like this."

"Excuse me?" Jill had been lost in thought, mentally replaying the previous night's events, that morning's lovemaking and the quiet breakfast she and Chadwick had shared at her kitchen table.

"Where are you this morning?" Lois asked with a laugh. "Do you realize this is the second time I've spoken to you only to be ignored? I didn't know I was signing on to work for a ghost."

Jill sighed. "I'm sorry, Lois. I've just got a lot on my mind." She put her head in her hands.

"Anything you want to share?" the older woman asked. "I've taken enough trips around the block to have gathered a bit of knowledge along the way."

Jill took her hands away from her face and looked at Lois. "If I tell you do you promise not to be mad?"

"Oh God, you're not a Republican are you?"

"No," said Jill, laughing a little. "It's not nearly as disturbing as that. But it's almost as disturbing."

"Then dish," said Lois. "Since I stopped working as a receptionist I'm starved for juicy news. When I was a receptionist, people used to talk around me like I wasn't there. I found out all sort of things. But if you want to merely confide in me I suppose I can settle for that."

"Alright," said Jill quietly, even though the door was closed. "There really is no way to ease into this." She paused. "I'm having a relationship with Brad Chadwick."

Lois sat back hard in her chair. "Good Lord. Are you serious, Jill?"

"Yes," Jill said.

"Well, that explains a lot," said Lois. "The daydreaming, sending me on errands whenever he stops by, your faltering during debates..."

The last one stung. "Do you really think I'm faltering, Lois?"

"Yes," she said in her blunt manner.

The two women were quiet for a moment.

"You disapprove," said Jill.

"Why does my opinion matter?" asked Lois. "I'm just your assistant."

"Bullshit, Lois," Jill said. "We clicked the moment you met and at this moment you're the one person at ANN that I actually trust."

Lois raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust Chadwick?"

Jill took a deep breath. "I want to, Lois. I really do. When he took me to see my sister after her accident - that's when it started - we talked the entire way and I got to see the man beneath the politics. Ideologically, we're poles apart, but he understands me, Lois. He understands the core of who I am. He knows what I secretly want and why I've been afraid to look for it."

"And let me guess. What you want is a he-man to sweep you off your feet."

"God, is it that obvious?" Jill asked. "My sister guessed it right off the bat, too. Do I have "closet submissive" stamped on my forehead?"

"Well if you do you won't stand out in a crowd," said Lois. "I'd wager a lot of women of your generation are looking for the same kind of man. But they don't make 'em like they used to, or so the old saying goes. Personally I think he-man types are more attractive now because they are such a rare commodity."

"You don't think there's an innate need in some woman for an old-fashioned guy?" Jill asked.

"I'm not saying that," said Lois. "But when I was young that was all there was to choose from, and what you see as charming and chivalrous my generation saw as oppressive. Then along came the feminist movement with the message that men weren't supposed to be manly and women weren't supposed to want manly men. Now that women are finally realizing that might be what they want, they realize there aren't many manly men left."

"Yeah," Jill sighed. "But that still leaves me with the burning question: Why do I, as a feminist, want an oppressive man?"

"Who says he has to be oppressive?" Lois laughed. "We saw those men as oppressive, but that doesn't mean we were right. Oh, sure there were a lot of oppressive men and the feminist movement was correct to push for women's rights. But it was wrong to paint every old-fashioned guy who believed in holding open doors or bringing home the bacon as a troglodyte. There are a lot of good, chivalrous men who are old-fashioned. Personally, I think much of what Brad Chadwick beliefs would be best left buried somewhere for archaeologists to find later. But if he can separate his right wing thinking from how he treats a lady, who am I to say that he's not good partner potential?"

"You make me feel so much better," Jill said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Geesh, girl, don't say that," Lois snapped. "Stop looking to everyone else to give you some stamp of approval on what you want and need. If Brad Chadwick makes you happy, then you do what you have to do to keep him. Just remember that you can have him - just as he is - without sacrificing yourself in the process. Surrender doesn't have to mean sacrifice. But I think you already know that."

"I'd say I'm learning that," said Jill. "It's just a lot to sort through, and right now we have a show to prepare for."

"Do we ever," said Lois, sliding the folder across to her. "Now, get a gander at tonight's guest. Like I said, there must be a lot of stupid people left in the world if this kook has a following."

Part III

"Good evening. I'm Brad Chadwick"

"And I'm Jill Parmele"

"And this is Loggerheads!"

Jill pivoted towards the camera. "Tonight's guest is Kevin Peck, founder of a group called Men Only, which advocates - if you can believe this - a return to an all-male workforce." Jill picked up a flier on the table in front of her. "And, if I'm reading this correctly, Mr. Peck, 'a demand by the men of this country that women return to their rightful place in the home.'"

She laid the flier down and looked at her guest who, surprisingly enough, was not a toothless hick but a handsome well-dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair.

"You do know," she continued, "that the problem with you little chauvinistic utopian vision is that current laws will never allow it."

Peck raised an elegant finger. "Ah, but there's the rub, Ms. Parmele. You said 'current' laws would prevent this and of course, you're right. But laws can and have been repealed. And that's what we're working for."

Brad Chadwick jumped in. "Now, Mr. Peck. Let me just clarify this a little for the audience. According to what I've read about your movement, your motivation isn't some hatred of women, but rather a desire to see families strengthened."

"That's right, Mr. Chadwick," the guest said. "Although I've been branded a misogynist, the truth is that I love women. I'm married sixteen years this month in fact and my wife is my best friend and greatest asset. But that's because we each know our place and work within it. I bring home the bacon and she keeps the home and tends to our four children, just as it was intended."

"Intended by whom?" Jill interjected with a laugh.

"By God," Peck said. "It's in the Bible, Ms. Parmele, should you ever care to read it."

"I have read it," said Jill coolly. "And I seem to remember in Proverbs 31 the ideal woman is portrayed as a working woman who engages in trade and earns money."

"You're taking it out of context." Peck said with a shake of his head. "The book of Timothy clearly states that women should be keepers at home."

"Titus," said Jill.

"Excuse me?" asked Peck.

"That verse is in Titus. 2 Titus, actually." Jill said with a too-sweet smile. Early in her career, when she found herself debating scripture-flinging right-wingers, she read the Bible through and through and was surprised at how often those who used the Bible as a weapon ended up misquoting it." She noted now, to her pleasure, that the tactic had reduced her opponent to red-faced silence.

"Mr. Peck, I think the fact that we can't even agree demonstrates why we're not a theocracy but a nation of laws and like it or not, those laws protect the right of women in the workplace."

As always, Chadwick swooped in to help salvage the right wing guest. "That's fine, Ms. Parmele. Let's discuss the laws then, or rather the effect of them. Now Mr. Peck, while you just cited the Bible, that's not the crux of your argument, is it?"

"No sir. The crux is not so much Biblical as social. Women's absence from the home has not only affected the family, but denigrated wages as well. The influx of bored females into offices and factories caused wages to tank. It's a simple issue of supply and demand. An increased pool of workers - including some you can hire for less than the going rate - drags everybody down. When a bunch of vulnerable, weak women entered the workplace, most employers who hired them didn't really take them seriously. So before long they didn't take the whole of the workforce seriously."

"Oh, please," said Jill. "You could use the same argument against minorities, Mr. Peck. And has it occurred to you that an employer who would mistreat women and blacks might not be exactly a person of character? What's to say the anyone could trust someone like that?"

"Jill, no one is arguing that there are unethical employers out there," Chadwick interjected. "I think what Mr. Peck is saying is that an influx of vulnerable, below-market workers hurt the working man who only wanted to support his family."

"Exactly," said Peck hastily. "And the lowered overall wages have made it hard for a man to support his family, and that, in turn, as forced women who want to stay home out into the workforce."

"And your solution to this is to ban women from working - even the ones who want to work," said Jill. "Do you think that's fair?"

"Maybe trying to be fair to everyone is what's ruining this country," retorted Peck. "If women married and made their families their career instead of listening to the feminists who tell them they can only be happy in the workplace, maybe they'd realize that happiness can be found there. Do you think it's fair that feminists have bullied a whole generation of women into forsaking their families so they can sit in some cubicle and develop Powerpoint presentations?"

"I hardly think working women are forsaking their families by working to provide their children with housing, insurance and college tuition," Jill said. "And you know, women do a lot more than - as you say - develop PowerPoint presentations. If you get in a wreck after leaving this studio the paramedic who saves your life may well be a woman."

"Well, if it is it doesn't change the fact that she should be home with her kids," snapped Peck.

"What if she doesn't have kids?" asked Jill. "What if she's not married? Has it occurred to you that some women aren't interested in getting married?"

"Yes," said Peck. "They're called lesbians."

Jill threw up her hands. "Good lord. Tell me, Mr. Peck. Does it hurt to have your knuckles drag the ground?"

Somewhere to the left a stagehand laughed aloud.

"Now that's uncalled for," said Chadwick.

"I beg your pardon," said Jill, turning her co-host in irritation.

"Now see, this is what I'm talking about," said Peck, a smirk on his face. "When challenged, women resort to emotion and it's up to a man to come in and show them the correct way to behave. Thank goodness you have a man like Brad Chadwick to stop you from going on a feminist rant in his presence. Which brings me to another point. Women aren't biologically suited to be in charge because their nature is to be submissive, to be led."

Jill felt an uneasy feeling settle in her stomach. "I'd say that depends on the woman," Mr. Peck.

"Nonsense," the guest said. "Show me a woman, any woman and I'll wager she's on the look out for a strong man to dominate her - even a woman like you." Peck turned to Chadwick. "Wouldn't you agree."

Chadwick smiled at Jill, a mocking smirk on his lips. "I'd have to say that's very likely."

Rationally Jill knew the response was meant as an inside joke, but still it felt like a slap in the face for him to refer to their secret on live television, even if no one picked up on it. For a moment she was silent and when she spoke her tone was icy.

"Yes, but sadly the type of men worthy of leading a strong women seems to be nonexistent," she said, looking directly at Chadwick. "And men can't blame feminists for that. Ultimately, they have only themselves to blame."

She turned to the camera. "And now over to the news desk for breaking news - the abrupt resignation of Representative Frank Cohen of Alabama who was nabbed over the weekend in a prostitution sting. Will this shift the balance of power in the House? Stay tuned to find out."

The red light on the camera blinked and Jill turned her smile off as she unfastened her mike. Without a word to Chadwick, who was chatting with Peck, she rose from her chair and walked from the studio and into the hallway where she hoped to collect herself. She was just a hair's breadth away from bursting into tears at Chadwick's betrayal. She wondered if he realized what he had done. When he appeared a few minutes later in the hallway, she knew he did.

"Jill," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"I know," she said. "It just seemed to come naturally to you, Brad. Which is why I feel like the biggest fool in the world. Because you know what? You're really no different than that idiot we just interviewed, no matter what I've been telling myself. You see me as nothing more than a joke on my gender. But that joke is over. It ends now."

"Jill, this isn't the time or place to discuss this. Let's go to your office."

"No," said Jill. "You're not telling me what to do anymore, Brad. It was a mistake for me to think I could ever let you. There's no need to talk. It's over."

Jill turned away, feeling worse than she'd ever felt in her life. Little did she know that things were about to get even worse - much worse. Bill Shale was heading towards them, an angry look on his face. In his hand was clutched a plain manilla envelope.

"My office. Both of you. Now," he barked.

Jill looked back at Chadwick, her heart clenching in his chest. It didn't help that he looked just as uneasy.

Chapter Ten

Part I

They didn't need to see the contents of the envelope to know what it contained.

"It would have been nice to have at least been informed rather than find out like this," said Shale as he pulled an advance issue of The Informer and tossed it on the desk.

"If you read the article, you'll note that it says when asked about your relationship I laughed at the reporter and told him he was full of it. Of course, as you can see I'm the one who ends up looking 'full of it.'"

Jill reached out and pulled the tabloid towards her. Across the cover, just above a photo of her and Chadwick emerging from the hotel room was the headline, "Strange Bedfellows."

Underneath another photo taken of the two embracing - a photo Jill realized had been shot through her kitchen window, the caption read, "Point Counterpoint co-hosts Jill Parmele and Brad Chadwick share a tender moment at her home on Monday. Is their on-air political animosity just an ANN ratings ploy?"

"As you can imagine, this does nothing but hurt our credibility," Shale said. He turned to Jill. "You know, Miss Parmele, I hired you to debate Brad, not seduce him."

Jill could hardly believe her ears. "What?" Her throat was so constricted the word came out in whispery squeak. When she found her voice, she couldn't help but raise it a little. "We're sitting here looking at a picture of me and Brad and you're reaction is to paint me as some sort of sex-crazed siren?"

"Bill," Chadwick began, but Shale held up his hand.

"I'll deal with your weakness in a moment, Brad. Right now I'm talking to her." He jabbed a fat finger in Jill's direction.

"Now I'm not saying I don't fully understand," Shale said. "A good-looking, successful man like Brad, why there's not a woman out there who wouldn't put designs on him. But you seem to forget about a certain clause in your contract that forbids sleeping with your co-workers."

He turned to Brad. "As for you, I thought you were stronger than this. Sure Jill's a good-looking broad, but that doesn't mean you had to fall between her legs just because she was willing to spread them."

Jill was on her feet now. "Alright. You just shut your mouth, you sloppy pig. I've got something to say."

Shale was so surprised to be verbally assaulted that he could only sputter. Jill took advantage of that sputtering to have her say.

"You're right, Bill. Brad is weak, and he's demonstrated it by not having the backbone to stand up and say what I'm saying." She turned briefly to Brad. "It turns out I was more right about you than I thought."

Then, she turned and placed her palms on Shale's desk.

"You know what? I am sleeping with my co-host. Or I was. But it was by mutual decision. Only a complete idiot would shade our relationship in these ridiculous, dated assumptions. Which leads me to my second mistake."

"And that is...?" huffed Shale.

"Going to work for a complete idiot," said Jill. "I quit."

Shale lumbered to his feet as Jill turned to walk out of the office. "Now wait a minute, young lady. There's no need to be hasty."

He turned to Brad.

"Stop her," he said. "Talk some sense into her."

Jill turned before heading out the door and looked at Brad, who was sitting in his chair, his face a mask of fury.

"Good," she thought. "Let him be angry. Now he knows how I feel."

Part II

"So what are you going to do now?" Megan asked after listening to Jill's account of the evening's events. Jill's cell phone had been ringing when she walked in the door of her apartment, the summoning of a sister who knew by the end of the show that something was wrong.

"Well, the expression 'you'll never work in this town again' comes to mind," Jill replied glumly. "Given that I've burned every bridge on the left by taking the job at ANN and no one on the right will hire me because of Shale's influence I'd say my options are pretty limited." She sighed. "Financially I'll be able to float for awhile. You know how anal I am about saving money. But I can't live on my nest egg forever."

"And what about Brad?" Megan inquired.

"What about him?" Jill asked, in a tone that suggested she didn't want to answer the question.

"Is he still with ANN?"

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't be, since I'm the sinner and he was a mere victim of my sexual appetites," said Jill. "Brad got to have his cake and eat it, too. And judging by his comment on the air tonight, the whole thing was just a big game to him anyway."

"You don't think you're being a little hasty, Jill?" Megan asked gently. "He may have just meant it as a bad joke."

"I think it was just how he really feels slipping out. It's like I told him, Meggie, if there was a joke it was on me."

Megan said nothing.

The silence made Jill uncomfortable. "What?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean what?'" asked Megan.

"You know what I mean," said Jill. "You aren't saying anything. Which means you have something to say. Something I won't like."

"Does that mean you want me to say it?" her sister asked.

"Seeing as how it probably couldn't make me feel any worse, shoot," Jill said.

"I think you were right to tell Shale to shove it, but I think you were completely wrong to paint Brad with the same brush. From what you've told me, Brad is old-fashioned, but he is nothing like Shale."

"If he's nothing like Shale then why didn't he speak up when that fat toad was all but calling me a whore?" Jill said.

"People handle things in different ways, Sis. He may have been shocked. He may have been angry and afraid of your seeing just how mad he could get --"

"Or he could have been in agreement with Shale," Jill interrupted. "Remember, this came on the heels of the potshot he took on me by agreeing with that moron Peck."

"Sorry, sis, but you're overreacting. I think Brad is proud that you are like you are. He doesn't see your desire for a strong dominant guy as some sort of laughable flaw. But you do. I don't think you're so much mad at him as you are at yourself. You're still not comfortable having exactly what you want. So you're sabotaging it and making it easier to do by lumping Brad in with Shale. If you separated it all out I think you'd see there's a big difference."

Jill was quiet for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I disagree," she said.

"Maybe so," said Megan, but I bet you can't tell me why.

Jill thought for a moment. "I'll tell you why," she said. "Because even after the way I was treated, Brad Chadwick will still carry on at ANN, working for the man who treated the woman he claimed to love like some sort of slutty Jezebel."

"You don't know that," said Megan. "You don't know what happened after you left that office."

"Oh, I think I do," Jill shot back. "I know his type, Megan - his best financial interests will trump everything else. Ultimately he'll choose the bottom line over me. Brad knows who butters his bread and it's Shale. He'll sacrifice me in a heartbeat before he'd leave ANN. I'd bet you a dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town that I'm right."

Jill waited for a response. "Megan?" she asked. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," her sister said quietly. "And guess what. You owe me a dinner at Cafe Violette. Turn on your TV. There's breaking news on ANN."

Part III

Square-jawed ANN anchor Kip Klein, who usually delivered media gossip with an obvious glee, looked somber as he informed viewers that ANN's popular debate show Loggerheads was cancelled, effective immediately.

"I'm sure many of you are now aware of news beginning to filter out about an alleged inappropriate relationship between co-hosts Brad Chadwick and Bill Parmele," he said. "Like many companies, ANN forbids fraternization between unmarried employees and the doesn't discern between office staff and broadcast personalities when disciplining such infractions. Earlier this evening, both Ms. Parmele and Mr. Chadwick resigned from the network. ANN head Bill Shale plans to issue a statement on the matter at a press conference scheduled for 9 a.m. tomorrow morning."

"Oh my god," said Jill.

"Told you," said Megan.

"Why would he do that?" asked Jill, more to herself than to her sister.

"It seems this might be the second time you've misjudged him," said Megan. "Maybe it's time you put aside the assumption that you know what he's thinking and start listening to the man."

Jill heard a noise outside and looked out the window. She blinked, wanting to convince herself it was really Brad Chadwick's SUV pulling into her driveway.

"I've got to go," she suddenly said.

"Why?" asked Megan.

"I've got company," said Jill.

"I won't even try to guess who. It would be too easy," said Megan. "Kiss, kiss."

The phone line buzzed, indicating that Megan had hung up and Jill walked to the door, pulling her jacket on as she did. When she walked out, Chadwick was leaning up against the vehicle, hand shoved in his pockets and long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked at her as she approached, but didn't speak. Jill walked over and stood beside him, sharing in his silence until she could no longer stand it.

"So why'd you come?" she asked.

"Because I wanted to," he said. "And in case you're wondering if I was followed, the answer is 'probably.'"

"It doesn't matter now anyway," she shrugged, sighing. "I know I don't have any right to ask, but I just have to. What happened after I left Shale's office?"

Chadwick clucked with his tongue and looked up at the sky, as if struggling to recall. "Well, let's see," he said. "Shale sat down at his desk and started muttering about how he and I could find ways to patch up the 'mess' as he called it. And then the next thing you know he agreed with me that maybe it would be better if I just left ANN."

Jill glanced at him. "Why do I get the feeling that you're leaving something out?"

"Because I am," he said, grinning. "He agreed that I should leave after I swept everything off his desk, grabbed him by his collar and told him he was the sorriest fat fuck I'd ever met and if he didn't personally apologize to you by midnight I'd make it my life's work to paint him as the biggest asshole in network history. And I reminded him that, being a lot sexier than he is, I'd likely be successful. And that I wouldn't stop until I saw him destroyed."

"You're kidding," said Jill, wide-eyed and then jumped as the cell phone in her pocket rang. Scrambling for it, she looked in disbelief at the number, which showed ANN CEO SHALE.

"Jesus," she said.

"No. It's just Shale," Chadwick said. "But you'll kick yourself if you don't take this call so just do it. Please."

Jill opened the phone and put it to her ear. "Hello," she said.

Bill Shale's gruff apology was bare bones and obviously insincere, but it was an apology nonetheless and all the sweeter because it had been forced. Shale had completely lost her respect, and it was good to see him taken down a notch. Jill graciously agreed that the incident was behind them and thanked him for his call before snapping the phone shut.

"Wow," she said.

"So do you still think I consider you some kind of joke, Jill?" he asked.

"No," said Jill. "I know I overreacted and then let the whole thing snowball. The problem isn't you, Brad. It's me. I'm still trying to settle into this new reality I've opened myself up to and I guess I feel guilty for wanting what you've offered. In retrospect I think I was just looking for a reason to bolt."

Chadwick reached out and stroked her face. "The door's still open if you want to bolt back home."

Jill looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. She suddenly began to shake. "Are you sure?" she asked through the sob that rocked her body.

Chadwick turned and pulled her to him. "I am absolutely positive," he said, holding her as she clung to him, weeping in gratitude. "Now you just lean on me for as long as you want. I don't mind. I don't mind a bit."

Part IV

"Five, four, three, two, one." The cameraman pointed at the hosts and two guests sitting on the dais, signaling the show had begun.

"Good evening, Welcome to Chat with U.S.. I'm Jack Martin and this is my co-host Amanda Blain. In the studio tonight is Washington's most unlikely power couple, Brad Chadwick and his wife, Jill Parmele-Chadwick, husband and wife, political pundits and co-authors of the runaway best seller, Finding Common Ground: A Guide To Peace Across the Political Spectrum.

"Wow," said Blaine, pushing a strand of blonde hair away from her sculptured face. "It's been quite a hectic year-and-a-half for the two of you. Eighteen months ago you were both riding high as the co-hosts of Loggerheads on conservative network ANN.

Brad raised a finger. "Yes, and if I may interrupt, Amanda, both Jill and I wish Bill Shale the best as he continues to recover from his heart attack."

"A sentiment we all share, I'm sure," Blain said. "And a gracious sentiment, considering that Shale's refusal to accept your relationship resulted in your both walking away from the top rated show in cable television."

"Yes, it did, Amanda," said Jill. "But ultimately it was a blessing in disguise."

"Exactly," offered Chadwick. "When Jill and I got together, we were so locked in our rigid ideologies we never realized how it shaded our relationships with other people."

"So what does this mean," asked Martin, the male co-host. "Are you now a liberal and she a conservative?"

"Oh, heavens no," said Jill. "We still are polar opposites politically. Everyone who went past our house last election season did a double-take to see both Democrat and Republican signs in our yard. So no, we still disagree. We've just learned to do it while listening to other viewpoints, rather than talking over them."

"And that's what your book is about, basically," said Amanda Blain. "It makes a great case for civility in debate and both of you are pretty candid about your own bad behavior in past clashes with political opponents."

"Absolutely," said Chadwick. "Steamrolling over someone may feel good at the moment, but when you think about it, no one every thought the schoolyard bully was particularly smart, did they? And that's because he wasn't. He used his fists to silence opposition, usually because he didn't really have a good way to deal with it."

"Yeah," said Jill. "And on the other hand, there's also a grace in deferring when you're wrong, backing off your point and taking time to think about it. Sure, you risk changing your mind and for ideologists that's a scary prospect because it means losing their identity. But on the flip side, contemplation also allows you to hone your argument. And when you come back to the debate, you don't have to bully because you actually have something to say."

"Well, I just have to ask," said Blaine, putting her hand on Jill's. "What is it like living with a guy like Brad Chadwick?"

Jill looked at her husband. "If I can sound old fashioned, it's like being a princess. He's chivalrous, protective and someone I look up to."

"Wow," said Martin. "That doesn't sound very liberal."

"And it might not sound very conservative for me to say that my wife is the strongest person I know," said Chadwick. "But you know what? I don't care."

"Absolutely," said Jill. "Because life shouldn't be about fitting into camps or living by some cookie-cutter expectation. It should be about forging successful relationships in our families, community and government."

"Wow, that's quite a success story," said Blaine. "So, you two. What's your next project?"

Jill looked at Chadwick, a smile in her eyes. "Do you think we should tell them?"

"I don't see why not," he said. "It's not like we're all that good at keeping secrets."

Jill reached down and put her hand on her belly. "His name is Brad, Jr.," she said. "He'll be here in about five months."

The End

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