News at Eleven
By Jack Greene
Jordan is the anchorman of the first newscast aimed at the GBLT audience. He's out and proud of it, and he's used to getting exactly what he wants. When he sets his sights on the station manager, tall dark and handsome Alexander, he might get more than he bargained for.
Length: HeatSheet (7.6 K words)
He’s fucking beautiful, and he knows it.
Alexander shook his head, watching from behind the camera as Jordan delivered yet another flawless rendition of the evening news. Flawless really was the word to describe the anchorman. Television personalities were supposed to look good, but Jordan took it to extremes. His glossy black hair was always straight and smooth, and never out of place. His makeup was amazing, so perfect he looked like a doll—not overly made up, either. Just right. His clothes were the height of fashion, not too avant-garde for a newscast but perfectly fitted to his slender body.
As anchor of a news program aimed primarily at the local GLBT community, the first of its kind in the country, Jordan didn’t have to hide his homosexuality. As if he could. Alexander’s lips quirked up as Jordan pushed his hair back over his shoulder with a practiced flick and smiled into the camera. The camera loved him and he loved it. There was no doubt that Jordan was meant to be a star, and he’d finally found his niche.
Jordan’s voice was cultured and smooth. Alexander had heard English wasn’t his first language, but Jordan showed no trace of accent, just the neutral tones of a trained news reader.
On camera, though, he allowed his true nature to come out, and Alexander definitely noticed he played up to the camera much more than to any person.
He didn’t know Jordan well. As manager of the station, he had signed off on hiring him but they hadn't had much time to interact. It seemed to be paying off, however. The station was based in West Hollywood, known for its large gay population, but the show had been picked up by several affiliates already, and he was in talks with a few cable networks. It was an idea whose time had come.
The station had promoted gay-friendly programming in the past, but Alexander had the idea of tailoring a newscast directly for and about the gay population of LA. The owner balked at first, but Alexander talked him into giving it a chance. The owner was usually hands-off; Alexander had earned his trust and ran the place as if it was his own. Only for new ideas and big expenditures did Alexander have to go to him.
Now here they were. The idea had been implemented and put into action; writers and producers were hired from the GLBT community as much as possible. When it came to hiring on-camera staff, they’d gone through a few personnel changes until they’d settled on Jordan.
In fact, it had been Jordan who’d found them. He’d walked in without an appointment, and somehow charmed his way into an interview. The rest was history. He’d heard Jordan described as an irresistible force. That was pretty accurate. Jordan got what Jordan wanted. The audience loved him.
Alexander wasn’t quite sure who the real Jordan was, though. He’d watched him on the air and at meetings and rehearsals, and even enjoyed a few, superficial conversations with him. Yet, he knew virtually nothing about him as a person. He found himself oddly fascinated, though. Jordan acted like a diva sometimes, but he was always professional on camera. He’d heard rumors from the staff about Jordan throwing the occasional tantrum over something that wasn’t quite right, but no one had outright complained to him, so there was nothing he could do.
Besides, ratings were sky high and no one wanted to rock the boat.
* * * *
The station’s annual Christmas party was an event not to be missed. People got wasted and let their hair down, and often incriminating photos were threatened. But, as long as no one got hurt, management turned a blind eye to any shenanigans. This year, there was plenty to celebrate.
Alexander made sure there was plenty of food and drinks for all the employees and their significant others. He’d planned to make a token appearance then leave, so as not to inhibit the partygoers. He had to admit, though, he was curious as to whom Jordan might bring to the party. Jordan was gay, of course, but other than his partner would be a man nothing was known. Alexander wanted to see what kind of guy captured a beauty like Jordan’s fancy. He’d have to be very patient, and probably very rich. Jordan defined high maintenance.
To everyone’s disappointment, Jordan arrived at the party alone. He looked incredible, though, dressed head to toe in glittery black. Black was one color he wasn’t allowed to wear on camera as it didn’t show up well, so Jordan seemed to make up for it tonight. He wore shiny vinyl pants that looked painted on, hugging his long legs and firm ass perfectly. His mesh shirt was see-through, and mesmerized as he moved, showing flashes of creamy skin. The pants tucked into knee-high, black leather boots with a chunky heel. With them on, he stood only an inch or two shorter than Alexander. He knew this because when Alexander looked up from his drink Jordan stood right in front of him.
“Hi, Alexander. Great party,” Jordan said, his voice uncharacteristically breathy.
“Thanks. You look, well, amazing,” Alexander said, trying to keep his eyes on Jordan’s perfectly made up face. His makeup looked heavier, almost Egyptian. It gave him a catlike air.
Jordan smirked. “Well, that’s the idea of dressing up for a party, isn’t it? You like the outfit?” He spun around for Alexander’s inspection.
“Of course,” Alexander replied. “I think every guy in the place is drooling over you.” From the corner of his eye Alexander could see the attention focused on them.
“Mmm,” Jordan said, not disagreeing. He stepped a little closer to Alexander. “Except for you, Mr. Davenport.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“I’m pretty sure it’s against the station’s rules for me to drool over the staff,” Alexander said, noncommittal.
Jordan actually pouted at that. “I’m not just one of the staff, though, am I?” he purred, moving a little closer.
Alexander tried not to react to all that sexual energy directed at him. He’d heard Jordan could turn it on and off at will, and he was only human. “No, Jordan, you’re definitely something special,” he allowed, proud of his steady voice.
That seemed to placate Jordan a bit. He licked his full, glossy lips with a darting pink tongue and regarded Alexander. Alexander imagined how a field mouse felt when an owl swooped nearby. “I think you’re something special, Alexander,” he said softly. “Did you know that no one really knows how you swing?”
“I didn’t know I was such an object of speculation,” Alexander said mildly, taking another sip just to have something to do with his hands. He hoped Jordan would tire of this game soon and move on to tease some other poor sap. He didn’t honestly believe Jordan was interested in him. He was much too boring, and at least five years older than Jordan. The only thing interesting about him was the fact that he didn’t advertise his sexuality like most everyone else here. He wasn’t hiding anything; he merely preferred not to be obvious.
“Oh, so modest,” Jordan cooed, stepping right into Alexander’s personal space. He laid one perfectly manicured hand on Alexander’s chest. “Mmm, you work out, don’t you? Anyway, everyone wants to know who the big, handsome station manager takes to bed.”
Alexander swallowed. He didn’t think of himself as handsome; he felt downright plain next to most men. His face was still boyish, leading people to frequently underestimate his age. He worked out a lot, though, trying to keep himself in shape because he’d watched his father let himself go, gaining weight and dying of a heart attack at fifty-eight. “I think you’re exaggerating just a bit, Jordan.”
Jordan laughed, a musical sound. “Handsome, modest, and polite. You must be straight then,” he said, pouting. “What a waste.”
Alexander noticed Jordan hadn’t stepped back. He had the feeling the pretty man was fishing. He tried to change the subject back to Jordan. “So, why are you here alone, Jordan? Everyone’s disappointed; they were so looking forward to seeing your fabulous date.”
Jordan looked up at him and smiled charmingly. “Maybe I was hoping…” He trailed off uncharacteristically. “I didn’t want anyone to cramp my style tonight,” he finally explained, stepping back. Alexander was strangely disappointed. “After all, who could compete with this?” He spread his arms, indicating himself.
Chuckling, Alexander nodded. “This is true,” he agreed. He swallowed the rest of his drink. “Well, I’m going to take off, speaking of style cramping. No one wants the boss to watch them get wasted.”
Jordan’s pout reappeared. “You’re not leaving yet!” he exclaimed.
“I never stay long,” Alexander explained.
Jordan moved closer again, taking his arm. “You can’t leave until you dance with me at least once.”
“From your tone I’m thinking this is non-negotiable,” Alexander said, smiling despite himself.
“You’re right,” Jordan nodded, pulling him toward the area that had been cleared for dancing. Eighties music pumped out of the speakers and a few people were already dancing.
“I’m gonna embarrass you,” Alexander told him, letting himself be led. “I can’t dance.”
“Then just move a little and let me rub against that rock hard body,” Jordan said. “We’ll both look fabulous.”
Alexander hoped he wasn’t blushing at that. He knew better than to imagine Jordan was attracted to him, though. He knew the anchorman liked to flirt.
They arrived at the dance floor, where Duran Duran was informing them all about a girl named Rio. Jordan immediately started dancing, and if he’d been sexy before now he was sizzling. His slender body moved sinuously, and Alexander knew all eyes were on them. Well, on Jordan anyway.
True to his word, Jordan was all over him. He pressed against him, and Alexander’s mouth went dry. He could very easily feel every inch of Jordan; especially his hipbones, which Alexander had a weakness for. He wanted to lick them.
For his part, Jordan seemed to have a thing for Alexander’s arms. Jordan eased Alexander out of his jacket, leaving him in just the white t-shirt he wore underneath.
“Mmm,” Jordan murmured in Alexander’s ear as he caressed his biceps. “God, Alexander…your body.”
Alexander’s breath hitched at Jordan’s soft breath on his ear. He stepped back abruptly. “I should go now,” he said firmly. He knew his face was flushed. He needed to get out of there.
Jordan didn’t follow, just stood there as if astonished.
Alexander knew everyone’s eyes were on them, so he assayed a wide smile and said, raising his voice: “Merry Christmas, everyone. I’m going now, so you can all get on with the real celebration.” He bowed slightly, avoiding Jordan’s gaze.
And he got the hell out of there.