Excerpt:

Hello, Savannah. If that little ol' needle on your radio is pointing up to 103.5, then don't move it, sweetheart. You've just tuned in to Station WSCX in good old Savannah, GA. This is Blaze Alexander, your Midnight Mistress and I'm going to be here from midnight to dawn, just for you."

"God, what a voice," Greg mumbled as he stared with amazement through the glass at the beautiful redhead operating the console.

"Come on, you sweet sinners, I'm here for the night, so how about you and me get to know each other real well."

Blaze reached around and put on some music while her dark, soothing voice continued mesmerizing the night owls of Savannah.

"Mix a drink, cuddle a little, and get comfortable, because I'm your playmate for tonight."

A sexy chuckle slid out her mouth.

"What's that I hear out there? Heavy breathing? Ohhhh, not now, handsome, wait for lil' ol' Blaze!"

Greg's eyes widened at the veiled suggestions she was making. Turning, he went back into his office and turned on his radio, listening closely as Blaze's suggestive remarks set fire to the airwaves.

"The other night, a cop stopped me. I asked him, 'What's the matter, darlin', did you get lonely?' He didn't say anything, just started actin' real tough, you know? He grabbed me and leaned me over the car." She emitted a deep, raspy chuckle. "He didn't fool me. I knew what he was up to. After he put the cuffs on me, he said, real official like, 'You'll have to come quietly.' When I saw how well he filled out that uniform, I had to tell him, I'm real sorry, darlin', but I never...come quietly.'"

Greg almost swallowed his tongue. He jumped up, slammed out of his office, and ran toward her window. When he got there, he began swinging his arms to get her attention.

Blaze looked up at Greg's horrified face.

"Hey, sugar, listen to the music a while and I'll be right back, okay? Someone's tryin' to get my attention." Looking at Greg in anger, she clenched her teeth while trying to maintain the air of seduction, and leaned even closer to the microphone. "Mmmm, I love it when they follow me everywhere I go."

She quickly jumped up and opened the door. "What in hell do you want? Can't you see I'm in the middle of my show?"

"Show? This isn't a show, it's pornography, pure and simple."

"What have I said that couldn't be said over the air in the bright light of day? Have I used any foul language?"

"No, not in so many words. But there have been suggestions, innuendoes. And what about that dirty..."

"As long as I don't say 'fuck' on the air, Bucko, you're safe. Now let me get back to my audience before I lose them." She turned and slammed back into the booth. As she slid down into her seat, she cast a nasty look in Greg's direction.

"Hey, lover, your Midnight Mistress is back, and to make up for makin' you wait for me, I promise I'm gonna make you real happy."

While she and Greg made loathsome eye contact with each other, she slowly and sensuously continued to soothe the unsuspecting city of Savannah into a sex-induced coma.

Greg fumed. She apparently wasn't going to cool it down, so he turned around and slammed back into his office. He paced back and forth, combing through his hair with his hands. "That damned bitch is going to get me fired, I just know it."

When Wade had told him he would be surprised, he expected something wild, but sex on the air hadn't occurred to him. And that music. To anyone else, it was instrumental blues or jazz, but somehow in her expert hands, it became music to fuck by! Smooth horns became slow hands, thrusts, moans, and groans. And if the population didn't have an imagination of its own, she supplied it for them by describing the act in suggestive words without going over the line. He'd never heard anything like it. She might be big in California, New York, or Chicago, but she was just too damned hot for a straight-laced city like Savannah. He jerked his head around and looked at his radio, as her voice became a soft, seductive moan.

"Yessss! Ohhh, that's good. Ohh, yes!"

God! Greg thought, bringing his hands up and lacing his fingers through his hair. The whole city of Savannah is having an orgy with this woman! His nerves were on edge. He looked toward the door repeatedly, expecting to see Bran Farewell barging in at any moment. He tried to tame his arousal while trying to figure out what to do, but he couldn't concentrate with her, deep, sliding voice, her off-color jokes, and her metaphorical words intruding on his thoughts.

Finally, he gave up and sat down, leaning close to the radio. It didn't take long for him to succumb to the carnal spell, and like the rest of the city, he allowed the voice, the words, and the sliding music of the Midnight Mistress to bathe him in an erotic fantasy.

As soon as the show was over, Blaze gave the microphone up to the next deejay, and came out of the booth. She met Greg on her way out, and as she approached him, she hesitated for a moment. She knew she had won the war when she saw his disheveled appearance. He was bathed in sweat, his shirt unbuttoned and halfway out of his jeans, and his hair was sticking out in all directions. When she saw his tie hanging limp around his neck, she tightened her lips, trying to keep from laughing. As she passed him, she couldn't resist flipping the loosely hanging tie and saying sarcastically, "Always nice to meet a fan."