Give It To Me: Taboo Romance

by Ami Snow

  Winona's stomach churned, the tea and undigested bits of the banana walnut muffin she had for breakfast evidently not sitting well. She set her clipboard down on the floor, whispering curt apologies as she pushed past the irked production members. She burst through the bathroom door and kicked in the door to an empty stall. Tears sprang into her eyes as she retched into the bowl, the stall door behind her swinging to a close. Gasping for breath, Winona rose shakily from the toilet bowl and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She exited the stall, stopping short in her tracks.

  Kara was gazing adoringly into her own reflection in the spotless, horizontal mirror by the sinks, a tube of lipstick in her hand. She glanced at Winona's pallid complexion through the mirror, a twisted, impudent smile forming on her lips. Kara slipped the tube of lipstick back into her cosmetics pouch and lifted a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

  “The binge diet is a little dated, don't you think?” Kara drawled, adjusting the pearls around her neck.

  “I'm not –” Winona protested, heaving a sigh, her eyes flashing, “And this catty high school business you insist on pulling on me is really not a good look for you. I'm not even going to pretend I'm in the mood for your snarky bullshit.”

  Kara turned on her heel, her eyes narrowed, snarling, “I don't know who you think you are, talking to me like that, but we run things a little differently around here. I'm sick of you twenty-somethings waltzing in here trying to take things from those of us who actually work for it –”

  “Work is a rich word, isn't it?” Winona retorted, her eyes challenging.

  “I – I – don't know what you mean,” stuttered Kara, for once, seeming to lose her composure, “I don't have time for this.”

  Winona grinned triumphantly to herself as Kara stormed out of the bathroom, her heels squeaking against the tiles. She turned towards the open stall, her eyes focusing on the string of a used tampon, caught between the lid of the trashcan. Her fingers trembled as she touched her stomach, the light fuzz on her arms and neck standing erect.

  Winona thanked the cashier, her heart pounding in her chest as he stuffed the box of a home pregnancy test into a brown bag. She crumpled the bag in her hands and tossed it into her purse, her eyes darting from side to side as she exited the drugstore. Her unnecessary paranoia arose within her, compelled to watch her surroundings like a hawk. She sped down the steps of a subway station and proceeded towards the women's bathroom, clutching her purse close to her.

  Winona waited patiently outside the closed door of an occupied stall, nervously tapping her toes against the grubby tiles. Her ears perked, the dulcet tinkling of a little girl's laughter echoing across the bathroom. For one fleeting moment, her breath tightened in her throat, catching a glimpse of the cotton candy pink of the little girl's tutu from the corner of her eye. Upon taking another gander at the little girl, Winona's shoulders slackened, privately rebuking herself for the sinking feeling in her chest.

  “Excuse me, Miss? Were you next in line or are you just waiting for someone?”

  Winona snapped out of her daze, turning towards the irritated teenager behind her. She looked towards the empty stall in front of her, bowing apologetically, “Right – sorry. I'll be right out.”

  Winona locked the door behind her and snatched the box out of her purse with her quavering hands. She tore the box open and removed the pregnancy test from the silver packet, taking a deep breath as she crouched down onto the toilet bowl, holding the stick against the steady stream. She shook the stick dry over the bowl, leaning against the graffitied walls of the stall. The minutes dragged on as Winona waited, gnawing at her tendering bottom lip. A series of blunt knockings sounded against the closed door.

  “Keep your damn panties on,” Winona snapped, “There's someone in here. I'll be right –”

  Winona's voice trailed off, her eyes widening as they zeroed in on the result window of the pregnancy test, her knuckle paling around the thumb grip. Her lips slowly parted, the thoughts in her head blanking completely as the second blue line gradually materialized into a clear, unmistakable positive.

  Chapter Six –

  Spencer glanced down at his stack of papers, his eyes poring over the segment run-through as two make-up artists stood on either side of him, attacking his face with various-sized brushes dipped in powder. Engrossed in a story about an attempted school shooting, he was oblivious when the make-up artists paused, turning towards the open door of his dressing room. He eventually glanced up at his reflection, his eyebrows slightly peaking as he noticed Winona's hovering figure by the doorway.

  “Stella, Patty, thanks, I think that'll do for now. I'll come find you for a touch-up before we go live.”

  The women nodded, their expressions void of emotion as they slipped past Winona out the door, leaving the pair on their own. The corners of Spencer's lips stretched into a sexy smile, biting down on his bottom lip as Winona closed the door behind him.

  Winona brushed a hand against her stomach, her knees wobbling as she teetered towards him uncertainly. She swiveled her tongue around her cracking lips, swallowing as she strove to organize the tumbling thoughts in her head. Spencer crossed the room briskly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he snaked his arms around her thick waist. She softened in his vigorous hold, her fingertips tracing against the white, ironed sleeves of his locked arms.

  “I – I have to tell you something –”

  Spencer grinned, catching her earlobe with the tip of his tongue. He guided her towards the wall, nibbling on her earlobe, caressing her breasts through her blouse with his hands. He whispered in her ear, “Can't it wait? God, you're so fucking irresistible.” He tossed a few throw pillows out of the way and sat her down on his beige camelback sofa, wresting her legs open with surprising force. Winona panted, the tips of her aroused, erect nipples tickling at the intense, almost manic look of lust beset in Spencer's sparkling, deep green eyes.

  “It's so hard to concentrate when you're watching me live from just a few feet away,” Spencer whispered huskily, “Just knowing your tasty little cunt's just a couple of feet out of reach drives me bat-shit insane...”

  Winona's thoughts flatlined into silence, a surge of lust swelling inside of her as she kicked off her heels, allowing Spencer's warm fingers to slide her pantyhose, along with her dampened panties, down to her ankles. He licked his lips, watching as she hoisted the hem of her skirt up her waist, her thick, quivering thighs coming into view. The swiftly lubricating space between her legs pulsed as the older man wrested her legs apart in an arousing show of his brute strength. Winona couldn't help but shiver, her light tremors triggered by the lust-crazed look in his eyes. There was something about the way the usually polished, debonair man looked at her, reducing her to a piece of meat, sending another trickle of her juices down her thighs.

  Spencer leaned in, taking a deep whiff of her strong, piquant odor, his eyes gazing longingly at the glistering folds of her cunt. He lapped at her folds with his rigid tongue, stabbing lightly at the jewel of her pulsating clitoris with the tip. Winona's shoulders loosened, melting into the cushion of his couch, her fingers rapidly unbuttoning the constraints of her blouse. She breathed a moaning sigh of relief, removing each hefty globe of her cups, her heavy, pendulous breasts immaculately suspended.

  “You're the sharpest intern I've ever had,” breathed Spencer, winking as he pulled away from her crotch, his mouth and chiseled chin coated with her juices, “You're a fast learner. You know exactly what I want, don't you?”

  Winona nodded, speechless, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Spencer dove between her legs once again, his fingers fondling her nipples, teasing the pert tips with sharp pinches as his tongue tormented her raw clitoris. Her fingernails burrowed into the downy feathers of one of Spencer's throw pillows, her turbulent pleasure evident on her contorting expressions, a stream of her juices gushing out her contracting crevice.

  Winona shot forward, her back arching as Spencer flung her legs over his
shoulder and delved deeper between her legs, sopping up every last drop of her warm, tasty juices. He rose from the floor and leaned towards her, pressing his lips, glistening with her juices, onto her mouth, and kissed her passionately. His tongue swirled around inside her mouth, Winona tasting herself as her tongue tackled his. He broke free from the kiss, crouching back down as he gathered her breasts together with his hands and buried his nose between her cleavage. He savored the sweet suffocation, his fingers kneading into the mounds of her breasts as she raked her hands through his hair. Winona held him close to her, the warmth of his tongue streaking along the deep cleavage of her jiggling breasts.

  Winona's smile floundered on her face, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach as she watched Spencer's fingers inch towards the glinting buckle of his belt. Spencer's expression shifted to one of abrupt confusion as Winona leapt off the sofa without warning, tucking her breasts back into the cups of her bra. His short-lived exasperation subsided, observing the glimmering sparkle of her watery brown eyes.

  “Winona – what – are you crying?” asked Spencer urgently, his eyes softening, carefully placing his hands on her quivering shoulders. His forehead creased with genuine worry, “Have I done something to make you uncomfortable? We can stop – we don't have to –”

  Winona plucked his hands off her shoulders slowly, her voice hushed, “No, it's me. I'm such an asshole sometimes. I'm sorry, Mr. Flynn, I shouldn't have let it gone on this far – I needed to tell you something, that's why I came to your dressing room in the first place –”

  Spencer frowned, his narrowed eyes remorseful. He rubbed his finger against his bottom lip, “Winona – you gotta understand something. This – right here? It's not something I normally do – I don't go around screwing every intern that works under – er – for me –”

  Winona quickly brushed away the cursory surge of satisfaction, slowly shaking her head, “That's not it, Mr. Flynn. I took a few tests – I'm pregnant.”

  Spencer's mouth dropped open, “With –”

  “Yes, it's yours,” snapped Winona. Her eyes widened instantly, blushing furiously as she clamped a hand over her mouth. She stared at the flabbergasted man, lowering her trembling hand, “I'm sorry – that was horrible. I haven't really been myself lately, if you know what I mean –”

  “And your aloof behavior from the past week –”

  “I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you. It's not exactly a conversation starter,” Winona replied gloomily, her eyes downcast. She buttoned up her blouse hastily and headed towards the door, muttering whispered apologies, slamming it shut in Spencer's dumbfounded face.

  Winona fled into the break room, her fingers still shaking as she lifted the stale pot of coffee and poured herself a cup. She turned around to lean against the counter, swearing furiously under her breath as none other than Kara stalked into the room. Kara sneered at the two writers, who were innocently sipping their mugs of coffee, shooting them an icy glare. The pair rolled their eyes and slipped out the door, flipping the bird to the back of her head. Kara slammed the door shut behind her, fuming.

  “The jig's up, Ms. Rockwell. I saw you doing the walk of shame outta his dressing room – told you to keep an eye out. You're in for it now.”

  Chapter Seven –

  Winona nipped at her mug of tepid coffee, breathing a sigh of vexation as she drained the rest into the sink, “I don't know what you think you saw but your obsession with me has really gone out of control, hasn't it? Please, Kara – whatever it is, not today. I can't –”

  Kara scoffed, stomping indignantly, snarling, “You must think you're something special, don't you – you're not the first one Spencer's screwed around with around here. Here's a little word of advice for ya – if you're gonna whore yourself out to the boss like the classless whore you are, never do it on set and for god's sake, take heed of the fucking cameras. Amateur.”

  A frigid chill tingled down Winona's spine, supporting herself against the counter as her knees buckled underneath her. She flicked away the bead of sweat settling on her left brow, the previous confident stability of her voice faltering, “I don't – what do you want from me, Kara? Look, I apologize, the last thing I wanted to do at Channel 8 was to step on anyone's toes – I've been looking forward to this for eight months – I never wanted to screw this up. What happened between me and Mr. Flynn –”

  “Mr. Flynn,” snarked Kara mockingly, “I bet that sick bastard likes it when you call him that, doesn't he?”

  Winona sighed, continuing, “– whatever happened, happened. I didn't mean for it to happen and woman to woman, I honestly had no clue the two of you –”

  “Woman to woman?” repeated Kara, a snide, unpleasant laugh erupting from her lips, “Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart – you're barely a woman –”

  “Not that it matters –” Winona persisted through gritted teeth, “I just wanted to be the bigger person here and apologize. I'm sorry, I do want to keep things civil –”

  Kara droned on, the nasty smile on her lips broadening, “You twenty-something airheads amuse me – what would you know about womanhood? Powerful individuals who run their own successful businesses, mothers – those are women –”

  The piquing rage within Winona aggravated, once again gaining steadiness in her voice, “Not to rain on your little speech there, as eloquent and factually accurate you think it is – not that I agree with you in any way, shape, or form, but I've got those things crossed off my list, thanks.”

  Kara fell silent, blinking as her thoughts spurred into action. It suddenly clicked – it was only then that she realized why the harlot of a young woman's name had sounded so familiar. Winona Rockwell's name was plastered all over town for her immensely successful business, flashing back to a hazy memory of one of the projects Rhonda had written for her – Scrub Love's tale to success. She sighed bitterly, thinking of the stash of Honey-Bee Exfoliating Scrub deluxe package stored in her medicine cabinet. Kara stiffened, glancing towards Winona's hand, carefully perched on her stomach, the sounds of Winona's retching resonating in her ears as she finally pieced the puzzle together.

  Kara's high cheekbones flushed beet red, her incoherent words gnarling together as she blubbered out her lips, “You – no – you're – you're pregnant with – with Spencer's –”

  Winona mitigated the cold expression prominently fixed to her face, her angled eyebrows relaxing. She took a few slow steps forward, shifting her head to the side, quickly retracting her hand as Kara hissed at her.

  “Kara, I'm sorry – I don't know what it is, I'm usually not much for confrontation...It's the, um, hormones, maybe – that's been putting me on a bit of an edge –”

  “If you value your child's life,” breathed Kara, baring her gritted teeth, “You'll back the hell away from me – right now.”

  Winona obliged, backing up against the counter, “Kara, I'm sorry – is there any way we could talk about this –”

  Kara's eyes bugged out dementedly, her voice shrilling, “Yes – I'll talk, alright – I'll have you and that prick Spencer escorted out of the building by the end of the day – Young girls these days just never listen, do they?”

  Winona's heart wrenched in her chest, her tone pleading, “Kara – you can do whatever the hell you want with me, I'll quit the apprenticeship, just please, you can't do this to Mr. Flynn. He's been doing this for almost a decade – you'll crush him –”

  “Like he crushed me when he decided he'd had enough of me?” Kara declared melodramatically, folding her arms across her chest, “I'm gonna make this as excruciating for you as I possibly can – what're people gonna think – oh wait, just what would Daddy think of the little whore he raised?”

  “No – you're not.”

  Winona and Kara's eyes widened simultaneously as Rhonda stumbled through the doorway, rubbing at her ears.

  Kara's face whitened, pursing her lips as Rhonda stopped next to Winona, leering. Kara's eyes darted back and forth between the pair, the but
terfly clips on Rhonda's hair glittering under the lights of the break room.

  Rhonda lifted her chin, smiling, “Why don't you take that stick outta your ass and shove your money up your loose asshole? We're done here.”

  Kara's mouth fell open, her shoulders heaving as she started to step towards the defiant pair. She closed her mouth, her eyes heavy with defeat. Shooting them one final glimpse of pure hatred behind her shoulder, she stamped out of the room in a huff, slamming the door close behind her, rattling the door frame.

  Chapter Eight –

  Winona hopped out of the cab, facing another fresh morning, the scintillating, mirrored buildings of Channel 8 towering over her. She wished the driver a safe ride and clicked the door shut behind her, trekking across the crosswalk, her tender, swollen breasts joggling beneath the restraints of her bra. Two seconds from her usual left corner, she halted her hurried steps, noticing the periwinkle blue of the sign of the boutique that had been under construction the past few weeks.

  Winona's jaw slowly unhinged, blinking the glisten away from her disbelieving eyes. The spotless display window exhibited shiny, various models of state-of-the-art strollers, centered with an eco-friendly, bamboo crib, adorable, vividly colored cartoon monsters hanging from the swinging baby mobile dangling above it.

  Just a few feet away, Spencer handed crisp bills of change to the hot dog vendor. He nodded courteously as he accepted his hot dog bun, the questionably colored, but scrumptious sausage drizzled with extra mustard, just the way he liked it. He turned towards the corner, a flicker of lilac purple catching his eye. His stomach somersaulted as he caught sight of Winona, hovering over the window of the new baby boutique, her breath fogging up the glass of the display window. Spencer backtracked towards the hot dog cart, reaching in his pocket, fumbling for change.