The Weirdness Continues

John wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Every ounce of professionalism he had was evaporating, replaced by a potent cocktail of shame, lust, and utter confusion. Prank or not, he'd just confessed his deepest, darkest desires on live television. His career was over. Why was this happening? How was no one stopping him?

Olivia tapped his shoulder, her eyes narrowed, while the cameras were mercifully not recording them. “Hey, are you sure you’re fine?”

He managed a weak nod, his throat too tight to speak.

“Then what the hell was that?” she hissed, her voice barely audible above the studio hum. “‘Ice queen’? I’ll have you know that I’m very much a slut when these cameras aren’t on us.”

John’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t reconcile the professional woman beside him with being a slut. Maybe in the past, but it wasn’t possible in the present. “I... I don’t understand. You don’t seem like…”

She rolled her eyes, a flash of irritation in her gaze. “I wear this,” she gestured dismissively at her tailored suit, crisp blouse, and knee-length skirt, “because I want the night spot. Because I want to be taken seriously. But if you think that's all I am…” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sexy but intimidating whisper, “you haven’t seen the Ice Queen yet.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. “Then I’ll become the sluttiest girl you’ve ever seen.”

She reached out, her fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down his chest before swirling around the edge of his tie. “I’ll show you what a real slut looks like, John. I’ll make you beg for it.”

Before John could even ask what the hell was going on, Olivia settled back into her chair as camera 2 recorded them. Poor John was too stunned to talk, leading Olivia to step in as she turned toward camera 3.

“And now, let’s get back to the real news, shall we?” Her voice was smooth and controlled, as if nothing had happened. “Efforts are being made to finish the bridge reconstruction on time so…”

Another flicker.

“...I’m glad that John here is curious to know if I’m an insatiable slut when the cameras aren’t rolling,” she continued, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Well, John, I go to the bar every night and look for as many men who want to fuck my tight body in the parking lot. I might even ask a few ladies to join in on the fun if I feel like sharing.”

She turned to him, her eyes locking onto his. “Do you like it when I talk dirty, John? Does it make your cock hard? My pretty mouth can do more than talk dirty, you know. I can suck you dry in a matter of minutes.”

John swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced around the studio, desperately seeking help. But the crew remained impassive, their faces blank as if this was another normal broadcast. He shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. Whatever was happening to Olivia was also affecting them.

“I’m married…” he managed to croak.

Olivia let out a loud, theatrical sigh, her eyes rolling dramatically. “Oh, John, you’re such a tease.” She reached up and casually undid the top button of her blouse, revealing a tantalizing hint of cleavage. “Does it make you hot knowing your wife might be watching us right now? Maybe she has her hand between her legs and is yelling at you to fuck me.”

John’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't thought of that. Erin was going to kill him.

Before he could stammer a response, Olivia turned back to the camera, her smile sharp. “But before we go on break, let’s check back with Scarlette and Allison for the weather and traffic reports.”