The image that faded in to view on millions of TV screens was far from what the viewers were used to. It was the regular Weather Girl, and it was in the regular timeslot, 30 minutes before the start of the Sunday night movie, even the on screen graphics were normal.
It was the way she was standing that diverted even the casual viewer.
Normally, the young blonde would pose in a slightly provocative manner, and like tonight, would wear something clingy and more than a little suggestive, waving her hands across the barometric graphs like a spoke's model for a dildo manufacturer. Except for the fact that her hands were bound together above her head, held high by a rope tied to the studio lighting frame, there was nothing really out of the ordinary about the pose.
Nor did her snug fitting strapless blue tube dress, or the matching pumps, seem out of place. Her little yelp in pain as the rope was tugged upwards was certainly unusual but it did the trick and she started on her usual spiel about the day's wind and rain.
While she talked, the rope was pulled tight enough to lift the 4" heels of her pumps bare millimeters off the floor. The strain on her arms was enough to lift her full, D-cup filling breasts almost free of the tight dress, showing a little of the dark pink flesh surrounding her nipples.
It looked like she was showing more than she really was, and it had the viewers riveted to their screens as they sensed something wonderful was about to happen.
As she moved to the satellite photo's, a hand sneaked in behind her, acknowledged only by the fastest of combination sideways look and hair toss, and aborted yelp as she got a tug on the rope for not concentrating on the weather.
The graphic changed to the international forecast, and as she worked her way through the neighbouring countries, the hand behind her back pulled on the drawstring that held the back of her dress tight, undoing the knot that held both in place.
At first all that happened was that the tension in the fabric where it was stretched across her breasts ceased, and it no longer dug in to the soft skin around the side of her ribs. Then it was like the dress sighed and settled on her hips as the drawstring began to unravel from the eyelets, the front starting to swing away from her body.
Now every breath she took raised her nipples above the top edge of the dress, only to disappear again as she exhaled with the end of a sentence.
The hand kept pulling on the drawstring, and the weather girl's voice squeaked as she felt the dress start to slip as the tension of it's stretch around her hip's was removed. Slowly, very slowly it began to move, and her voice paused as the fabric writhed in the hot studio air, falling to the floor and rumpling around her feet.
She yelped again at another tug on the rope that lifted her naked form from the floor for half a second. In response she did as she'd been told to, and kicked the dress away from her before continuing to read her script.
She completed the four day forecast in record time, her full breasts shaking and shimmying as her words rushed out and she smiled to the camera and finished with the normal sign-off and reminder of the next scheduled newscast.
Once the image on the in-studio monitor's indicated the director had faded to black, she sighed and said, "Okay guys, That's the bet paid off, now get me untied so I can get dressed ready for the real broadcast."