N. and B.B.C."Now's the time. "How about B.C.S?" B.C.S.?" B.C.S. The Baltimore Chesapeake Station." Why them?" Better yet, who are they?"I've connections with them." Really? Like who?" My mother is a reporter there." Really? What does she usually cover?" Human interest stories." She ever do the science beat?" No. But she doesn't need to understand how it works to report on what it's doing."Jacob scratched his chin for a minute. "True. But it might have helped." Jacob, you do know that nobody in the school understands what you've built. It hasn't stopped them from helping when they understood the end results, did it?" No, but that's why I made the systems so smart." So, will you let my mother be the connection to the mainstream media?" Maybe. No offense, but she does not seem important enough to command air time with a phone call." She can today, because she is playing against the anchorman who wants her gone so he can get his nephew in my mom's job slot." I see. This is your big break. Her bed was covered by a soft pink spread with a few frilly throw pillows laying at the head.Between that first day and now, when he held her cornered in her room, the two had spent very little time together. Just like always he was constantly busy, on the go, and simply tossed her the occasional greeting on his way out.But then tonight.And this.This completely unexpected turn of events. This change in the way her father was talking to her . . . And the way he was looking at her.As he stood towering over her his eyes slipped from their grasp of hers to slide down to where her breasts stood out, straining the material of yet another t-shirt. Underneath the garment the pair of fleshy mounds were encased in a bra, its outline evident. As his eyes stared at her chest, rising and falling slightly with her breathing, she felt a mixture of emotions once more roll through her.She knew who he meant by "us," that was obvious. His buddy, John Larson, was standing only feet away watching the two.
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