Sex and the boss's wife

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"This is Station KSZX, Indianapolis, broadcasting on 870 on your FM dial." Scott Forsmo repeated the station's logo, reading it from the copy taped to his console, and then turned up the volume on his theme music. It was a funky rock tune and was supposed to project the image of a swinging, free wheeling show. Scott had chosen it himself. He wished now he had not. He hated the music. It was strident, nerve wracking, and anything but what he was interested in listening to at one o'clock in the morning. He suspected the citizens of greater Indianapolis felt the same. At least it seemed so, if the response he was getting to his new show was any indication.

He faded the theme music and switched on his mike again. "Yes sir, guys and dolls, we're here to entertain you from midnight to eight in the A.M. every night of the week. It's Night Line, boys and girls. Call in and tell us what you think about whatever's on your mind tonight. What about the world? What about beautiful Indianapolis, the star of the Midwest, the Crossroads of the Nation, the Circle City." He almost threw up at having to call Indianapolis beautiful. It was anything but that. He would never have come here had he not needed the job so badly. One thing was true. Indianapolis was the Crossroads of the Nation. At least it had been once. Its two major thoroughfares, Washington and Meridian had been part of the principal North-South route and the main East-West route across the country. That had changed with the building of the freeways, and now the intersection, in the heart of downtown, was as sleepy as the rest of the Circle City.

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