Sisters Of The Cincinnati free porn video

Baby, if you’ve ever wondered,
Wondered whatever became of me,
I’m living on the air in Cincinnati,
Cincinnati, WKRP.

Got kind of tired packing and unpacking,
Town to town and up and down the dial
Maybe you and me were never meant to be,
But baby think of me once in awhile.

I’m at WKRP in Cincinnati...

Theme by T Wells and H Wilson

The hands on the wall clock reached six o’clock, marking the end of afternoon drive time and the work day for most of the staff at WKRP. Bailey Quarters, Administrative Assistant and sometimes news broadcaster, looked up from the pile of papers on her desk, noted the time, and sighed. It was the end of another day and another week, during which the twenty-four year old brunette had come no closer to her goal of becoming an on-air news personality than she had the month before. In the six weeks since she had added back-up news commentator to her duties, Bailey had been on the air a total of exactly seventy-two minutes. A number that was not likely to change anytime soon. Not as long as the news department of the small radio station was headed by Les Nessman, a quirky little man who viewed the local farm reports as more important than national news.

Still, there were some advantages to working for a small 5,000 watt AM station that had yet to break out of the lower half of an eighteen station market, chief of which was the people she worked with. At the top of that list was, Arthur Carlson, a.k.a. “the Big Guy”, who was the station’s General Manager. Not exactly a skilled business man, he was more like a favorite uncle who’d take you out for ice cream after your parent’s had said no. When people first met him, they usually found it incomprehensible that anyone would put him in a position of responsibility. An opinion usually based on the fact that they didn’t know that his mother owned the radio station, and it was only part of the Carlson fortune. One that could be allowed to lose money if only to offset successes in other areas.

Next on her mental list had to be Andy Travis, the young Programming Director who had moved up from Santa Fe to managed WKRP when it switched from sedate oldies to top forty rock and roll. It had been Andy who promoted her and was responsible for what air time she’d managed to get so far. The only problem was that, after giving her the back-up spot, he’d been reluctant to press Les to give up any of his own slots on the schedule.

Two of the DJ’s were also close friends of hers. Johnny Fever, who did the early morning show, and Venus Flytrap, who did late night. Each had their own unique style and personalities and were partially responsible for the station’s minor rise in the ratings over the last few months.

A success that had come despite the problems caused by Herb Tarlek, an egotistical troublemaker and general jackass who was the station’s Sales Manager. Constantly bringing in clients like the Shady Hill Rest Home or Ferriman Funerals, hardly the norm for the younger demographics the station was looking for, Tarlek, like Nessman was a holdover from before Travis’s arrival. Putting up with both men’s incompetence was something they all had to endure.

Of course the most fascinating person at the station had to be Jennifer Marlowe. Ostensively just WKRP’s receptionist, the thirty-something blonde was also the highest paid employee at the station. Her main function seemed to be keeping Mr. Carlson out of trouble, a task that she did extremely well. Beautiful, sexy and highly intelligent, she always seemed more aware of everything that happened in and out of the office then the rest of the staff combined.

The speaker on the wall, permanently turned to the station’s spot on the AM dial, filled with the echoing introduction that announced Les Nessman and the News. Not wanting to sit and listen to another rendition of hog futures and other agricultural reports, Bailey got up from her desk and headed out to the reception area. She knew from past experience that Jennifer usually turned the speaker out there off, especially when Les was on.

Stepping into the small lobby where Jennifer’s desk was located, Bailey found herself arriving just in time for the day’s tenth, and hopefully last, attempt by Herb Tarlek to hit on Jennifer. A daily ritual, it was a pitiful sight to say the least.

Not that it wasn’t understandable why any man would try ten times a day to ask Jennifer out. After all, with long, rich blonde hair and a body to kill for, the receptionist was everything any man could ask for. It was the fact that aside from being married, Herb was so far out of his league with Jennifer as to need a road map to find his way back.

Dressed in a gaudy plaid suit that had never been in style, Herb was exactly the opposite of the men that Jennifer dated. The common factor among which, aside from style and intelligence, seemed to be that they were usually old enough to quality for social security, but rich enough to never need it.

“Come on gorgeous,” Herb said as he leaned forward just enough to take a good look down Jennifer’s dress, “what say you and I have an early dinner and a late night?”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Jennifer said unexpectedly, surprising both Bailey and Herb. “It just so happens that the hostess at Robbin Bleu is an old friend of mine. I’m sure if I call her we’ll be able to get a table without a reservation.”

“Robbin Bleu?” Herb almost choked on the name of the hottest and predictably most expensive new nightspot in Cincinnati. “Dinner there costs more than I make in a week. I was thinking more on the lines of Surf and Turf at Clarke’s Grill down the block.”

“Herb,” Jennifer said with a cold, icy stare, “look at me. Do I look like I do Surf and Turf at Clarke’s?”

Humbled, the Sales Manager turned and slipped away without saying another word. Jennifer was sure, however, that come Monday morning, he would try once more.

“You let him off pretty easy this time,” Bailey commented as she walked over to the desk from the alcove where she had watched the little play unfold.

“I don’t like to crush him too hard before the weekend,” Jennifer smiled. “It’s not fair to his wife.”

Bailey paused a the moment to think of Herb’s wife, a perky woman named Lucille who she’d met a few times. That she shared a bed with Herb was enough to make the brunette shudder as she tried to suppress that particular image.

“Wait a second,” Bailey said as she shook her head to banish that thought. “Didn’t we go to Clarke’s last month for Johnny’s birthday?”

“Yes, and it was lovely,” Jennifer grinned. “But if you remember, Herb didn’t come with us after he found out that he couldn’t put the lunch on his expense account.”

“You’re so bad,” Bailey laughed.

Jennifer just grinned.

“But what if he’d said yes?” the younger woman offered.

“He never would.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Herb Tarlek is all talk and no action,” Jennifer confided in a low voice as she leaned close to Bailey so that only she could hear. “He has a big mouth, but a small...”

She never finished her sentence with words, but the small gap between her index finger and thumb when she held up her hand said all there was to say.

“How do you know that?” Bailey asked curiously.

“The same way I know that appearances to the contrary, Les Nessman is hung like a horse.”

Bailey looked at Jennifer and wondered if she was playing a joke on her. The smile on the blonde’s face refused to reveal its secrets. Still, if anyone knew all the secrets around here, it would have to be Jennifer.

“Come on, tell me you’re kidding,” Bailey implored.

The conversation was abruptly interrupted as one of the topics of discussion stepped into the lobby from the direction of the broadcast booth. Having finished his last update for the evening, Les was heading home.

“Getting an early start to the weekend, Les?” Jennifer asked the slightly balding man in glasses.

“I’m giving a speech at a dinner for the Young Farmers of Ohio tonight,” he replied as he headed for the door in a rush. “It would be unseemly for a five time winner of the Buckeye News Hawk Award to be late.”

“Well have fun,” Jennifer wished him as she gave him a small wave goodbye.

Not having said a word, Bailey suddenly realized that she had been staring at Les’s crotch the whole time, wondering if what Jennifer had said could really be true. Thankfully, the News Director was so much into his own little world, he hadn’t noticed.

“You know, there is a way you could find out for sure,” Jennifer suggested as she got up from behind her desk to put a protective cover over the electric typewriter that was almost never used.

That thought sent even more of a shiver through Bailey than when she had almost imagined the sigh of Herb and Lucille together in bed.

“No thank you,” Bailey was quick to say. “There are many things in life that I can live without knowing and that is definitely one of them.”

“So what are your plans for the evening?” Jennifer asked as she changed the subject.

“I’ve still got a pile of paperwork on my desk that Andy left for me to go over.” Bailey said, remembering the work she had left behind. “I don’t think I’m going to get out of here before midnight.”

“Andy, who left this morning for the Radio Convention in Columbus?” Jennifer noted. “The one that isn’t much more than four or five hours of meetings and two days of parties?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Bailey replied as she remembered how much she wanted to go to it as well. Not for the partying, but for the chance to do some networking and get her name out there.

“I think I have a better idea,” Jennifer suggested. “Why don’t the two of us go out to dinner instead? It’s probably won’t be as exciting as the one at the Young Farmers of Ohio, but I think you’d have some fun.”

“Don’t you have a date?” a surprised Bailey asked.

“You could be my date,” Jennifer responded, then quickly clarified, “I mean this would be more of a girls night out sort of thing.”

“I really should stay and catch up on that paperwork,” Bailey mused out loud, her sense of responsibility weighing heavily against her desire to have a little fun for a change.

“The paperwork will still be there on Monday morning,” Jennifer pointed out.

A few long silent moments followed as Bailey wrestled with her dilemma. Finally, Jennifer took matters in hand and made the decision for her. Walking over to the Station Manager’s Office, she knocked on the door twice, then opened it without waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Carlson,” Jennifer said as she stuck her head into the office, resisting the temptation to laugh at the sight of a grown man playing at his desk with a set of race cars, “but I was wondering if it would be all right if Bailey let those reports that Andy left for her wait until Monday morning so the two of us could go out to dinner?”

“The two of us are going out to dinner?” Arthur Carlson asked as he looked up from his classic reproductions. “Should I call Carmen and tell her that I’ll be home late?”

“Bailey and I are going out to dinner,” Jennifer corrected him. “Your wife is going to be here in twenty minutes so the two of you can have dinner at your Mother’s.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “Well the two of you have fun then.”

“You too,” Jennifer said as she closed the door, leaving Mr. Carlson to what she knew was probably the most fun he was going to have this evening. Dinner with the senior Mrs. Carlson these days was rarely enjoyable for her only son, usually turning into one long lecture. Thankfully, the younger Mrs. Carlson had both the intelligence and fortitude to stand up for the man she loved.

“I guess we’re going out to dinner,” Bailey said as Jennifer walked back over to her, her voice reflecting that she was happy the decision had been made for her. “Should I go home and change first?”

Bailey had worn a rather ordinary, businesslike plaid skirt and white blouse to work this morning, along a darker single color jacket. It was a lot more suited for dinner than the jeans and long sleeved shirts she usually wore. Still, next to the form fitting and rather low cut red dress that Jennifer had on, the business suit might seem out of place.

“No, what you have on is fine,” Jennifer assured her.

“Where are we going?” Bailey asked, partly out of curiosity and partly out of a concern that she might not be able to afford some of the restaurants Jennifer liked to frequent.

“It’s a surprise,” the slightly shorter blonde said as she gathered up her things, a touch of anticipation in her tone. “And since I’m the one who asked you, it’s my treat.” she added, knowing full well how much Bailey, and everyone else at the station, made each week.

Leaving the Flimm building, Jennifer had no trouble flagging down a cab for the two of them. In fact, two cabs pulled to the curb in response to her wave, one of them cutting across two lanes of traffic to do so. A brief argument ensured between the two drivers, with Jennifer deciding the matter by saying that they’d go with the safer of the two. The one who hadn’t cut off two other cars in an attempt to pick up the fare.

Once in the back of the vehicle, Jennifer gave the driver an address that Bailey recognized as being in the Mount Adams area, not far from Eden Park. The trip was short, so short in fact that the younger woman felt silly taking a cab. Normally, she confined herself to the more affordable city bus system.

The building they pulled up in front of was an old Victorian townhouse. Jennifer paid the fare, overpaid actually, Bailey couldn’t help but note as she stepped out of the car. Situated in the center of the block, the old building looked to have undergone extensive restoration in order to give it an almost new appearance. As they walked up the steps to the double doors, Bailey spotted a small brass plaque next the to the left door. It simply read, Sisters Of The Cincinnati.

Once past the front door, Jennifer led Bailey into a small foyer where a smartly dressed woman in her mid-fifties met them. The redhead greeted Jennifer with a broad smile, saying how nice it was to see her again.

“Donna, may I introduce my friend, Bailey Quarters,” Jennifer said, turning towards her guest.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Donna said to Bailey as she extended her hand. “Haven’t I heard you doing the news on WKRP now and then?”

“I think you might be the only one who ever has,” Bailey replied, greatly surprised at the comment.

“Well I think you did an excellent job,” Donna concluded as she turned and motioned for the two new arrivals to follow her into the main room beyond the foyer.

The interior of the townhouse had been restored as carefully as the facade, with the three larger rooms on the first floor converted into sitting rooms. Glancing into them as they passed, Bailey saw an assortment of women of all ages and dress. A few seemed to be involved in discussions with one or two others, while some just relaxed in comfortable chairs, reading a book or newspaper.

The entire second floor had been turned into a dining area, with carefully placed walls and decorations dividing the floor into smaller sections. The large windows on two sides of the common area offered a beautiful view of the Ohio River.

After seeing them to their seats, Donna recited the specials of the evening, from which Jennifer ordered for both her and Bailey. The younger woman didn’t mind as she was too busy looking about the room and taking it all in.

In the section Donna had seated them, there were eight other tables, spaced out just enough to afford a small measure of privacy. At the moment, three of them were occupied, two with pairs of women and the third with four. Like the women in the rooms below them, these were all of various ages and from their dress, different social status. Bailey didn’t have to be a reporter to have her curiosity working on overdrive.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“I guess you could call it a private club,” Jennifer replied as she made eye contact with one of the women sitting at an adjacent table.

Before Bailey could ask for more of an answer, the woman who had waved to Jennifer got up from her seat and walked over. Black, middle-aged and dressed in an expensive business suit, she spent a brief minute speaking to the red dressed blonde about some charity drive. Realizing that she knew the woman, or at least recognized her, Bailey was almost too stunned to follow the short conversation.

“Wasn’t that the Deputy Mayor?” Bailey whispered once the older woman was out of earshot.

“Yes it was,” Jennifer said casually, “I guess I should’ve introduced you. Should I call her back?”

“No,” Bailey quickly replied as she adjusted her glasses as to hide behind them. “You said this was a private club?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Among other things,” Jennifer expanded as a young girl in a black and white outfit arrived with the drinks she had ordered with dinner.

“How come I’ve never heard of the Sisters Of The Cincinnati?” Bailey asked, thinking that any organization that counted the Deputy Mayor as a member had to have a high public profile.

“Well, like I said, it’s a rather private club,” Jennifer repeated. “and somewhat selective in its membership. You have to be nominated by two full members to even be considered, and receive a unanimous vote of the executive board to join. I think in all its hundred year history, there’s never been more than two hundred members at a time.”

“So it’s only based in Cincinnati,” Bailey said, thinking out loud.

“Yes,” Jennifer confirmed, taking it as a question. “But there are other organizations like it that we sort of have a connection to. I guess you could call them sister-groups. There’s one club just as old based in London called Lady Jane’s and another that’s almost countrywide that started back in the late fifties. They even have a private resort down in the Caribbean, although I’ve never been there.”

Before Bailey could ask the name of the second organization, she was interrupted by the arrival of dinner. Her curiosity would have to wait until after they’d eaten. Nothing could stop her, however, from trying in the meantime to put the pieces she could see of the puzzle together.

The Sisters Of The Cincinnati was obviously some sort of private organization for women, comprised of the movers and shakers in the small city. A fact reinforced by her having spotted Sharon Mooney, the News Anchor for Channel Nine News, being led to one of the private rooms. The six-year TV veteran was someone Bailey wished she could meet, even more than the Deputy Mayor.

The only thing Bailey couldn’t figure out was, how did Jennifer fit into all of it. As important as she was to the small radio station, she was hardly a power player like Mooney or the Deputy Mayor.

“Have you been a member long?” Bailey asked as they finished eating and another girl in black appeared to clear the table.

“About eight years,” Jennifer replied after she had thanked the waitress. “I only graduated from associate membership last year.”

Automatically doing the math in her head, Bailey realized that Jennifer had been no older than she was now when she’d been inducted into the Sisterhood. If she wasn’t on the same scale as some of these women now, what could have been the motivating factor for them to admit her back then.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” Jennifer smiled as she drained the last of the wine she’d had with dinner. “You’re wondering what all these important women have in common with a lowly receptionist at a second rate radio station?”

“I never thought of you as just a receptionist,” Bailey said, wondering if her expression was that transparent for Jennifer to read her so easily.

“Not everyone here is at the pinnacle of her profession,” Jennifer went on. “Some members are even secretaries and school teachers. The goal is to recognize and then help every sister to reach her full potential, whatever that might be.”

“Wow, where do I sign up?” Bailey gushed, thinking how far she could go with an organization like that behind her.

“Well, you should know a little more about it all before you rush to sign on the dotted line,” Jennifer replied as she refilled both hers and Bailey’s wine glasses. “There are some expectations and responsibilities that come with membership as well.”

That Jennifer hadn’t immediately discounted the possibility of her being considered for membership wasn’t lost on Bailey. She took a deep breath, willing herself to slow down and not seem too anxious.

“It’s also one of the rules that when a member proposes someone for membership, that person has to also be seconded by one of her own sponsors as well. That way the organization insures the traditions they hold dear are continued across the generations. It’s not unusual for a new sponsor to consult her own before she even broaches the subject with a prospective candidate.”

Bailey nodded her head in understanding. It seemed an arcane rule, but obviously the current generation of members didn’t have a problem with it.

“Who was your original sponsor?” Bailey asked curiously.

Jennifer hesitated for a moment, then, hiding behind the now filled glass of wine in her hand, said “Lillian Carlson.”

“Mama Carlson?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my gosh!” Bailey exclaimed, thinking the sudden revelation explained so much. “And you’ve already talked to her about me?”

“I think that maybe I should explain another aspect of the society before we get too far ahead of ourselves,” Jennifer interrupted. “It might change your mind.”

Not being able to imagine what could possibility do that, Bailey held her next dozen questions and let Jennifer go on. It was a long moment before she did.

“There’s more to the Sisterhood than just business networking and social endeavors,” the older blonde began. “There’s a certain personal aspect to the relationships between some members. Some of them are just friendships, some of them are sometimes, how should I describe them ... intimate wouldn’t be too strong a term.”

“Oh,” was all that Bailey could bring herself to say.

Despite the impression she sometimes gave, Bailey Quarters was hardly as naive as people thought. It didn’t take more than a single breath for her to realize all the implications of the word “intimate.” She looked around at the tables surrounding them, most of which had filled up since they’d been seated. It was impossible for her not to wonder which of those couples that word applied to.

“Bailey?” Jennifer said as she noticed her guest’s distraction.

“Oh sorry,” Bailey said as she snapped back to the here and now. “I guess I was just thinking you and Mrs. Carlson,” she lied, thinking that was less rude than the truth. “Were the two of you...”

“Intimate?”

Bailey didn’t need to even acknowledge the question. The look in Jennifer’s eyes said it all.

“She’s really a much different person once you get to know her,” Jennifer said.

“I guess so,” came Bailey’s reply.

“To tell the truth, she and I were concerned at how you would take the invitation,” Jennifer said. “Or how you even felt about relationships like ours. I hope I didn’t give the impression that there’s anything non-consensual in any aspect of the group. It’s just that relationships like ours were the original focus of the society when it was founded, and it’s been the bond that’s held it together over the years. The business advantages and such were just an outgrowth of that.”

As she considered what Jennifer was saying, Bailey let her mind drift back for a moment to her not so long ago college days. In particular, to two classmates with which she herself had an “intimate” friendship. One had only lasted a single, but highly fulfilling weekend, while the second had gone on most of her senior year. Both occupied treasured places in her memory.

“I guess I should confess that I’m not exactly a stranger to those type of relationships,” Bailey admitted.

“Really,” Jennifer smiled broadly as her eyes seemed to light up. “I really thought that might be too much to hope for. And do you think that a relationship like that would be something that you might want to consider in the future?”

That was a question that Bailey took a much longer moment to reflect on before answering. Her relationships with men really hadn’t gone well since moving to Cincinnati. In fact, the furthest one had even gone had been a night she and Andy Travis had wound up on the couch in his apartment after putting away perhaps one too many beers after work. They had made out for a while and reached a point where her bra was undone and his hands were under her blouse. Then they’d both realized that since technically he was her boss, this wasn’t an avenue they should really pursue. Neither of them had ever mentioned that night again and it hadn’t been repeated.

“Is that an offer?” Bailey smiled back as she sipped her wine, a mischievous look now in her eyes.

“Do you want it to be?”

This time, Bailey didn’t have to think about her answer. Even as she opened her mouth, her thoughts flashed back to an incident last year when a photographer had managed to shoot some semi-nude pictures of Jennifer while she was changing clothes for a publicity ad. The pictures had later been destroyed, but not before Bailey had gotten a very good look at them and the body beneath the red dress. It was only now, under these unexpected circumstances, that she was willing to admit the stirrings that the erotic photos had produced in her at the time.

“Yes,” Bailey said with all of her heart, that simple word producing a sudden surge of lust between her legs, “and it has nothing to do with joining the Sisters Of The Cincinnati.”

As much as she wanted to hear the first part of Bailey’s answer, it was the second half that brought an even stronger burst of joy to Jennifer’s breast. Reaching across the small table, she took Bailey’s hand in her own and held it softly.

“Would you like to go back to my place and discuss it a little more?” Jennifer asked with a smile.

“I think we might do more than just discuss it,” Bailey smiled back as she placed her other hand on top of Jennifer’s.

With that, the two lovers to be rose from the table, still holding hands as they headed for the staircase to the lower level. So lost were they in each other, neither of them took notice of the sea of approving eyes and smiles that followed their passage. The largest of which had been on Donna as she opened the outer door for them and wished them a good night.

Slipping into a cab that had been waiting by the curb, one of a group that made it a practice to be at this particular address around dinner time, knowing that there were generous fares to be had, Bailey heard Jennifer give the driver the address to her new apartment. That the cab driver was a woman in her mid-fifties didn’t strike the younger passenger as unusual. Although it might have if she’d taken to time to notice that the taxis that moved up in line, as well as the four behind it, were also driven by women. None of them were members of the club, but the owner of the company could be found among the membership rolls.

Ignoring the fact that they were quite visible in the driver’s rear view mirror, Jennifer continued to hold Bailey’s hand. They exchanged warms smiled and barely suppressed giggles. Both felt as if they were back in high school, teenage girls on a first date.

Finally, Jennifer decided she couldn’t wait another minute. Leaning across the seat, her lips found Bailey’s and they kissed. It was a brief kiss, but one that little resembled any they had shared before. Full of promise of what was to come, the press of the older woman’s mouth against her own left Bailey almost out of breath. It forever shattered their previous big sister/little sister dynamic.

“Wow!” was all Bailey could manage as Jennifer pulled back, leaving the brunette’s lips tingling.

There wasn’t time for Bailey to say anything more as the driver, whose name her displayed license gave as Patricia Shannon, announced that they had reached their destination. Of the kiss she’d watched with a smile in her mirror, not a word was mentioned. It had hardly been the most interesting thing that had ever taken place in her back seat.

Jennifer quickly paid the fare, and this time Bailey paid no mind to the oversized tip that went with it. All she could think about at the moment was how long it was going to take the elevator of the building in front of them to get them up to Jennifer’s apartment. As it was, even that time proved too long.

No sooner had the elevator doors closed behind them, preventing to Bailey’s relief the entry of another of the building’s tenants, then the younger woman had her arms around the neck of the older.

There was no need for words, just the press of their mouths as she returned the kiss they had shared in the cab. Pressing against Jennifer’s, Bailey could feel the warmth of the blonde’s skin beneath her dress as she brought up both of her hands to cup her breasts. A rising fever that was mirrored beneath her own clothing.