Layla's Forecast

by Smoak, Ivy

  "No, thank you."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It doesn't mean anything."

  "My wife is smokin' hot, Ethan. You'd be lucky to land a girl like her."

  "I know. I didn't mean anything by it. Obviously Susan is hot. Her ass is amazing."

  "Okay, that's enough, smart ass. Don't talk about my wife like that." Bill loosened his tie.

  "Calm down, man. Are you high or something?"

  Bill laughed. "No. I was just trying to scare you. I was starting to think you didn't have any balls. Just wanted to see if there was any testosterone left in you or if Madeline took it all when she moved out."

  "What, you wanted to see if I'd punch you in the face?"

  Bill laughed again. "I wanted to see if you'd try to punch me in the face. Because obviously you couldn't actually. I'd totally beat your ass."

  "Whatever. My balls are fine. I just want to move on in my own way. I don't need anyone's help. All I need help with is how I'm going to confront cunt-bag Cliff."

  Bill laughed. "I like the new nickname. You should just be super passive aggressive. And definitely jizz in his coffee."

  "Perfect. Operation Coffee Jizz. This day has new meaning."

  Chapter 5

  Layla

  Claire put a few finishing touches on my makeup while Jack set up his tripod. We were going to broadcast a few yards away from the main walking path in the park adjacent to our studio. It wasn't overly crowded, so there wouldn't be too many pranksters making faces in the background, but there were enough people nearby so that I could pull one aside if I needed someone to interview.

  "Any hints about what I'm guessing today?" I asked.

  Jack shook his head. "I don't know why you insist on asking me that every week. My answer is always the same: I have no idea."

  "What about you, Claire?"

  "No idea. All Marty tells me is how he wants me to do your makeup."

  Claire held up a mirror so that I could see my final look. I always loved the hair and makeup that Claire did for me. She was somehow able to tame my hair and make my pores disappear. But she had gone way too heavy with blue eye shadow and thick black eyeliner. Oh my God, I look like a whore. "Looks great as always. But can you get rid of a bit of the eye makeup?"

  "Sorry, this is what Marty requested."

  I sighed. Of course it is. I should have known that whore makeup was coming after I saw the outfit that had been chosen for me. It was a super tight, super short blue dress with a plunging neckline. And then they gave me six inch heels that looked like something straight out of a porno.

  "Besides," Claire said. "This outfit is perfect for a nip slip."

  "I said no to the nip slip."

  She laughed. "I'm just saying."

  Jack handed me a mic and an earpiece. I put the earpiece in and heard the familiar voice of our news anchor, Brian Scott.

  "Our top story tonight is about the federal government shut down," said Brian in his fancy news anchor voice. "With republicans and democrats unable to agree on a budget, all federal agencies have been closed for the past week. But before we talk more about that, let's go to everyone's favorite segment where we prove that Layla can do way more than just predict the weather. Here are Layla's Predictions, sponsored by Sword Body Wash."

  In the small display on Jack's camera, I could see the graphic for "Layla's Predictions" scrolling in front of clips from early shots of this ridiculous segment. First there was a clip of me trying to guess people's ages, sponsored by some anti aging cream. I got four out of five correct, but then some guy more ageless than Pharrell Williams tricked me into guessing he was at least twenty years younger than he actually was. As a result, he won a tub of anti-aging cream and I had to do the weather that evening in makeup that made me look like an old lady. After that I had to predict sports scores, stock prices, and what color car would drive by next. I kept hoping this segment would get canceled, but it had become quite popular and companies were paying more and more to be the sponsors.

  "Now let's go live to Layla Torrez in Miami Gardens Park."

  As Brian finished his sentence, Jack counted down from three and then gave me the thumbs up to let me know we were live. I took a deep breath and got ready to play. Even though I was a weather girl, I still got nervous every time I was live on the air. If I misspoke or did something embarrassing, everyone in the city would know about it. Sometimes I would watch horror videos online of broadcasters making ridiculous mistakes like dropping the F-bomb or that poor sports announcer who stumbled through an entire broadcast and then used the phrase, "Boom goes the dynamite." I couldn't imagine how I would ever recover if something like that happened to me.

  "Layla, can you hear me?" asked Brian.

  Crap, stop daydreaming. I put my finger up to my ear to pretend like my ear piece was malfunctioning. "Sorry, Brian. I'm here."

  "Are you ready to make your predictions about everything other than the weather?"

  "I suppose. What am I guessing today?"

  "Penis sizes."

  I laughed awkwardly. "Seriously, what am I guessing?"

  "I'm serious. You're going to find guys in the park and ask if you can guess their penis size. If you guess correctly within one inch, you get to take their clothes and they have to walk home naked. But if you guess wrong, they get to take your clothes and walk you back to the studio to watch you present the weather while you're completely naked. They also win a bottle of Sword Body Wash just for participating."

  What the hell? He can't be serious. Dressing up like an old lady and having to wear a Buffalo Bills jersey for 24 hours were one thing, but having to do the weather naked was in an entirely different category.

  "We're going to take a quick commercial break, but stay tuned for Layla's Predictions!"

  As soon as we were off air, I looked into the camera and said, "What the hell, Brian?"

  "What's wrong? Let me just say, you look fantastic in that dress. But it's going to look even better on the studio floor. Or my bedroom floor. Either one."

  What an ass. I was so tired of Brian thinking he could get in my pants just because he was the news anchor. "I'm not doing this. I'm leaving."

  "I wouldn't recommend that. Before your time, we had a correspondent that walked out on a broadcast during a commercial break. Marty made sure that was the end of her career."

  "So I have to stand here and measure a bunch of penises on live TV?"

  "Guess so."

  I pulled out my ear piece and turned to Claire. "What do you think?"

  "I think it's perfect. So much better than a nip slip. Plus you don't have to worry about getting fired because this is what they want you to do."

  "Claire. Please be serious for a second. You know I can't do this. Everyone will see me naked!"

  "It's pretty ridiculous, but I'm sure it will all be blurred out. If anyone asks about it, just play it off as a joke and say the guys were clothed the whole time. Say it was a publicity stunt by Sword Body Wash. Everyone knows they have ridiculous commercials and would do anything to create a viral ad."

  "But if I win, then the guys have to get naked. How could that be fake?"

  "Like I said, it'll all be blurred out. You can just tell everyone that they were actually wearing tan underwear."

  "And what if I lose and have to get naked?" I asked. The thought was horrifying. Only three people had ever seen me naked, and one of them was my doctor.

  "Same thing. Just tell people you were wearing tan underwear."

  "But you'll still see me naked. And Jack. And everyone in the park. And everyone in the studio." Oh my God. That's so many people.

  "You better guess correctly then."

  "I can't do this."

  "Yes, you can. This is exactly the kind of name recognition the National Weather Service was talking about. So fingers crossed it does go viral!"

  "Claire! This is absolutely not what they meant. This is a disaster."

  One of our interns came s
printing down the path with a duffle bag over his shoulder.

  "Hey, Tom," said Jack.

  "Hi, sorry I'm late," replied the intern. "I almost forgot that I was supposed to bring you guys this stuff." He opened the bag and pulled out a bunch of bottles of body wash and a ruler decorated with the Sword logo. "Use this to measure, and be sure to give each contestant a bottle of Sword to thank them for participating."

  I grabbed the ruler from him and he arranged the bottles so that they'd be visible in the shot. I was supposed to be saying yes. And in this case, I wasn't even sure I had a choice.

  "Alright, we're live in three, two, one," said Jack.

  Crap. Too late to run. I put my ear piece back in and prepared to be tortured.

  "Welcome back to Channel Nine News," said Brian. "We're here with Layla Torrez to see if her powers of prediction include guessing penis sizes. Layla, are you ready to play?"

  "I don't know, Brian. The park looks pretty empty. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to find any contestants."

  "Nonsense," replied Brian. "How about that guy coming by just now?"

  I turned around. Sure enough, a guy in black athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt was jogging by. Damn it. "Excuse me, sir, can I talk to you for a second?"

  At first he didn't hear me, but then he slowed down and took his ear buds out. "Are you talking to me?"

  "Yeah. I'm Layla Torrez from Channel Nine News." I pointed to the Channel Nine News logo on my microphone. "Would you mind if I interview you?"

  "I'm on the news?" His eyes got big and he tried to fix his hair and wipe the sweat off his forehead.

  Great. Not only do I have to measure a penis, but I have to measure a sweaty penis. "Yes. Can I have your name?"

  "Mark."

  "Hi, Mark. So today we're playing Layla's Predictions. Are you familiar with that?"

  "Oh man, I love that segment. I knew I recognized you from somewhere. That was hilarious when you dressed up like an old lady to do the weather. What are you guessing today?"

  "Penis sizes," I muttered.

  "You're kidding," he said with a laugh. "You aren't even allowed to say that on air, are you?"

  "I wish I was kidding, but I'm not. Do you want to hear the rules?"

  "Sure."

  "I'm going to guess your penis size, and then I'm going to measure it. If I guess wrong, then you get to take my clothes and come to the studio to watch me present the weather naked. But if I guess within one inch, I get to take your clothes. Either way, you win a bottle of Sword Body Wash from our fine sponsors."

  "Wait, this is actually serious?"

  "Yes."

  "Will everyone see me?"

  "No, you'll be blurred out." I think.

  He shrugged. "Alright, I'll play. What's your guess?"

  Crap, I hadn't thought about actually guessing. I thought back to my two ex-boyfriends. Erect they were probably five or six inches, but flaccid they were probably closer to three. I glanced at Mark to see if he was erect or not. He was staring directly at my cleavage, and through his athletic shorts I could see that he was starting to get hard. "Five inches." God, please let that be right.

  "Alright, what now?" he asked.

  "Drop your shorts."

  He hesitated for a moment and then pushed down the elastic waist band of his shorts. His erection sprung up. It looked pretty average. Maybe my guess would be close.

  I awkwardly held the ruler near his penis, trying my best not to touch it. My heart sank when I saw the reading on the ruler. Six and a half inches. Shit. Then I realized the ruler was backwards. I let out a sigh of relief as I flipped the ruler around and saw the new reading.

  "Five and a half inches," I said. "Looks like I win."

  "Hold on, it'll get longer," he said.

  "Nice try, but the measurement was five and a half. You owe me your clothes. But look on the bright side, you still win a bottle of Sword Body Wash."

  He reluctantly stepped out of his shorts and pulled his shirt over his head. I couldn't believe I was standing a foot away from a completely naked, erect man in the middle of a park on live TV. But I had to admit, it was kind of fun. As long as I keep winning, this might not be so bad.

  I handed him a bottle of Sword. He grabbed it and immediately moved his hands to cover himself. Then he ran off.

  "Way to go, Layla," said Brian in my ear piece. "One down, two to go. Do you see any other guys that could come play?"

  Chapter 6

  Ethan

  "Oh my God, he's actually drinking it," I said. Bill and I were standing in my cubicle, watching Cliff take a sip of the coffee we had switched out while he was in the bathroom.

  "That's fucking disgusting," Bill said.

  "I think he loves it."

  "He's literally guzzling your cum right now. This is priceless. We need photo evidence of this."

  "Absolutely." I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture. I looked at the picture I had just taken. Cliff was looking down at his coffee, frowning. I looked back up at him. He was staring directly at us.

  "Shit. Let's get out of here," I said.

  Bill and I ran into each other.

  "That way man." I pointed to the elevator.

  "Oh, fuck, Cliff's leaving his office."

  "Go." I shoved him in the direction of the elevator. Bill hit the button and we quickly got on. The elevator doors closed before Cliff caught up to us. We both burst out laughing.

  "Oh my God, do you think he knew?" Bill finally got out.

  "I don't know. He didn't look super happy. Cum gets kind of clumpy in hot water, right?"

  "Does it? Why do you know that?"

  "You know, like when you skeet on a girl in the shower, it all clumps together."

  "Oh, yeah. That's true. I didn't think of that. He probably got a huge chunk of your jizz."

  We started laughing again as we walked outside.

  "Do you think he's following us?" I asked.

  "Let's cut through the park just in case."

  "Good thinking." It was a perfect day for a walk in the park. A cool breeze was blowing in from the west that made it just cold enough so that I wouldn't sweat in my suit.

  "I still can't believe Cliff took credit for the Blackstone Report," I said to Bill.

  "Well, I think you successfully got him back. Besides, look on the bright side of things. Now that you're done with the Blackstone Report, you can finally..."

  "Make myself a cheese steak. I know. I'm so excited. Or maybe I should make..."

  "What? No," said Bill. "I was going to say you could finally go out and meet some girls. On your own. Without my help or meddling."

  Why are we still talking about this? My failures last night should have been enough proof that I wasn't ready. "I think I'd rather just make myself a cheese steak."

  "No. Not acceptable. You need to go out tonight and talk to some girls again. In fact, I expect you to meet one girl and send me her picture before the night is over."

  "And if I don't?"

  "I don't know. Maybe a rumor will start to spread around the office that you're gay."

  "Dude, that's not cool at all."

  Bill's phone buzzed and he looked down at the screen. "Shit, I forgot Susan was making an early dinner so that we can get set up for our Bachelor Finale viewing party. Gotta run."

  "Speaking of not cool..."

  "Only a cool guy would have helped you with Operation Coffee Jizz and you know it."

  "Fair enough. But seriously, a Bachelor Finale viewing party?"

  "It's actually a pretty good show once you get into it."

  "If you tell the whole office I'm gay, I'll tell them you watch the Bachelor."

  "Right, with my wife. Which is not weird at all. I'm just being a good husband."

  Damn it, he's right. Bill jogged off back towards the office before I could stop him. Would he really tell the whole office I was gay? Knowing Bill, the answer was probably yes. How am I going to find a girl to talk to? And more importantly, ho
w am I going to take a picture to send to Bill without looking like a total creeper?

  Going to a bar seemed like the only option. Either that or just finding a picture online.

  Then I rounded a bend in the path and found myself staring directly at a naked man streaking down the path. The guy saw me too, and before I could get a look at his face, he dove into a patch of bushes that looked a lot like poison ivy.

  "What the hell?" I said to myself.

  I peered into the bushes when I got a little closer, but there was no sign of the man. Maybe I just imagined it.

  I continued walking down the path. It opened into a clearing where a camera man was interviewing a girl in a tiny blue dress. Her ass looked great. Maybe I should snap a picture of her to send to Bill.

  Then she turned towards me and I saw that it was the smoking hot weather girl from Channel Nine. Layla Torrez. I always knew she was hot, but she looked even better in person. Her tits were pouring out of her dress and in those heels she had legs for days. And those luscious red lips...

  "Excuse me," she said.

  Oh shit, is she talking to me? I looked behind me to be sure I didn't make an idiot out of myself by answering her when she was talking to the person behind me. No one was there. "Hi," I said and walked towards her.

  "I'm Layla Torrez with Channel Nine News. Can I interview you for a second?"

  Yes! "Sure. I'm Ethan."

  "Hi, Ethan. Are you familiar with Layla's Predictions?"

  Hell yeah, I always watch that. "I think I've seen it once or twice."

  "Great. Did you want to play?"

  "What are you guessing?"

  "Your penis size. If I guess within one inch, you have to get naked. But if I get it wrong, then I lose my clothes and you get to come watch me give the weather broadcast nude."

  "So that explains the naked dude diving in the bushes."

  Layla laughed. God, she looked sexy when she laughed. "Yes, that must have been Mark," she said.

  Wait, did Layla really say she wanted to measure my penis? I couldn't have heard that right. "I'm sorry, what did you say you were trying to guess?"

  "Your penis size."

  "And my reward if you guess wrong?"

  "You get to watch me do the weather naked. But if I guess correctly, then I get your clothes."