Lady Pub
Because bsg_aussiegirl wrote
Ok, frakcancer , I now have my numbers up. And you can continue with this (or start it earlier if you like) if you want.
A prequel to her Caprican Times. Because I have to keep my numbers up, too.
Bill Adama was head of the crime desk when Laura Roslin was hired as a cub reporter for the women's page. He flirted with her -- every red-blooded male in the press room flirted with her. When her name started appearing in the social columns linked to that of their elderly publisher, Richard Adar, he knew he had no chance.
He also had no real chance of advancement. A Tauron with family ties to the Ha'la'tha might make it to city editor, but had little hope for managing editor and absolutely no shot at editor-in-chief. The way Laura Roslin Adar was being shuffled from desk to desk -- copy editing, editorial, production, advertising, even sports -- he figured she was being groomed for the job. In this business it paid to be a woman, particularly a woman with an awesome rack, killer legs, and hips that would fit right into a man's hands.
It came as no surprise when Adar had a heart attack in bed one night and died on the spot. It came as no surprise when his widow was appointed publisher a week later.
It was a surprise when she fired the editor-in-chief, even if Cavil had been a tyrant who leered at every female. It was a major surprise when she approached him to fill the vacancy.
"You're one of our best writers, Adama. You're one hell of an editor. I see how loyal your reporters are. We've got people who should've been promoted to their own desks who won't leave you."
"Quite a leap, Metro to the top."
"You can do it. I have faith in you." Laura perched on the edge of his desk, her skirt slipping up another few centimeters. "I need you, Bill. Please."
He knew he had never had a chance.
Ok, frakcancer , I now have my numbers up. And you can continue with this (or start it earlier if you like) if you want.
A prequel to her Caprican Times. Because I have to keep my numbers up, too.
Bill Adama was head of the crime desk when Laura Roslin was hired as a cub reporter for the women's page. He flirted with her -- every red-blooded male in the press room flirted with her. When her name started appearing in the social columns linked to that of their elderly publisher, Richard Adar, he knew he had no chance.
He also had no real chance of advancement. A Tauron with family ties to the Ha'la'tha might make it to city editor, but had little hope for managing editor and absolutely no shot at editor-in-chief. The way Laura Roslin Adar was being shuffled from desk to desk -- copy editing, editorial, production, advertising, even sports -- he figured she was being groomed for the job. In this business it paid to be a woman, particularly a woman with an awesome rack, killer legs, and hips that would fit right into a man's hands.
It came as no surprise when Adar had a heart attack in bed one night and died on the spot. It came as no surprise when his widow was appointed publisher a week later.
It was a surprise when she fired the editor-in-chief, even if Cavil had been a tyrant who leered at every female. It was a major surprise when she approached him to fill the vacancy.
"You're one of our best writers, Adama. You're one hell of an editor. I see how loyal your reporters are. We've got people who should've been promoted to their own desks who won't leave you."
"Quite a leap, Metro to the top."
"You can do it. I have faith in you." Laura perched on the edge of his desk, her skirt slipping up another few centimeters. "I need you, Bill. Please."
He knew he had never had a chance.