by Sabrina Kane
He went on.
During the podcast, every time Amy asked a question, Max would type the response he expected Sally to give, which she would read using the Zoom chat window.
“I’ve got the Zoom window perfectly positioned on the screen so that as you read from it, it will still look like you’re speaking to the camera. So, whatever you do, don’t fiddle around with it.”
“Got it,” Sally said, feeling her nervousness increase.
“I’ll be sitting over here,” Max said, indicating a leather club chair that had no chance of being seen by the webcam of the laptop Sally would be using. “Questions?”
Sally thought a moment.
“No,” she said. “It seems pretty straightforward.”
“Good. We got about fifteen minutes left. Wine?”
Sally nodded and then Max left. While he was gone, Sally sat down in front of the laptop. The webcam’s preview window was open and she could see herself on the screen. She smiled because she looked rather good. The lighting thingamajig Max had installed filled in the shadows on her face and really brought out the color of her eyes as well.
“Hey, can I have this when we’re done?” she asked when Max returned with two glasses of white wine. She pointed at the lighting device. “I want to use it at home for meetings at work.”
Handing Sally her glass, Max shrugged.
“Take it,” he said.
He sat down in the club chair. Sally turned to face him.
“So, I wanted to ask you something,” she declared after sipping the wine, which was very good.
“Shoot.”
“I follow Jillian Ashley on Twitter…”
Max raised his glass to her.
“And Jillian thanks you for that,” he said.
“Anyway, how do you—a man—make her seem so like a real woman? I mean, I was so convinced that an actual woman writes her tweets.”
Max scoffed.
“It’s really not that hard. All I have to do is use a lot of OMGs and LOLs and stupid fucking heart-eyes emojis and, boom, everyone assumes you have a vagina.”
Sally’s mouth dropped open.
“Fuck you, that is so not true!”
But Max just looked at her for a moment and then picked up his iPhone. He tapped the screen a few times and then held the device out to her. Sally took it from him.
The screen showed their most recent text exchange, from this morning, when they were ironing out the details for her coming to his house to do the podcast. Sally’s indignant anger from a moment ago turned into embarrassment when she realized that every single message of hers to him included at least one OMG or LOL—sometimes both, sometimes multiple instances—and that when she replied to his text telling her he’d buy her dinner after the podcast, she had done so with two—two!—heart-eyes emojis.
“Fuck you,” she muttered, handing the phone back, just as an alarm on the phone started chiming.
Max got up, gathered his laptop and returned to the club chair.
“Show time in three minutes,” he said, and suddenly Sally had to take a couple of deep breaths.
“Okay, OMG, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” Sally asked, flustered, but not flustered enough to not realize that she had said OMG instead of Oh my God, proving Max right.
“When I tell you, just click the green button on the bottom window.”
“Green button, bottom window. Got it.”
“And relax. You’ll do fine. Just keep repeating to yourself, ‘Twenty percent.’ ‘Twenty percent.’”
Right. Twenty percent. I got this. Twenty percent.
A few moments later, Max told her to click the green button.
***
The bottom window on the Apple’s screen flashed a message: Please wait while we connect you. And then: Connecting…
Sally wished she had done another obsessive check on her appearance but it was too late now.
The window on the screen went dark for a brief second and was suddenly replaced by a live video image that made Sally’s breath catch and her heart beat faster.
On the screen was an incredibly beautiful woman. She had milk-chocolate brown hair with honey-colored highlights, brown eyes and inviting lips glossed with pink. Sally thought that she looked to be about her own age.
This was the woman who was going to be interviewing her?
Fuck, how am I supposed to concentrate?
The woman, Amy, stared back at Sally for several moments, and Sally felt a twinge of anticipation. The look she was getting from the podcaster was doing very little to hide the desire in Amy’s eyes.
Oh, God…
Finally, Amy cleared her throat.
“Um…Hi!” she greeted Sally. “Jillian, I’m Amy!”
Jillian? What? Oh, yeah…
“Hi, Amy!” Sally replied. “Jillian Ashley. Yep, that’s me! So pleased to meet you.”
“Oh my god, I cannot tell you how super excited I am that you agreed to be on my show! Thank you so much!”
Sally saw that Max had typed a reply in the Zoom window. Trying not to be obvious about it, she read it aloud.
“Well, I figured it was time to start really introducing myself to the lesfic community. They’ve been so supportive of my work! And you’re the perfect person to help me do that because I’m a big fan of your blog.”
I am? Blog? What blog?
Sally noticed Amy blushing and it was so fucking adorable.
Amy seemed at a loss for words for a bit.
“I…I am so honored that you’ve read my blog,” she managed to get out. “I really had no idea someone as accomplished as you even knew about it.”
Max provided the answer to that as well.
“I love it!” Sally recited. “You really have a lot of good insights into the whole being-a-lesbian-in-the-twenty-first-century thing, and your reviews of my books are amazing.” Sally smiled widely then because it seemed that’s what the situation called for.
Another blush appeared on Amy. The woman was just too adorable!
“Okay, well…” Amy said. “It looks like we’re all set up with our…connection.” As she said this, she stared at Sally with nothing less than fuck-me eyes. Sally sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and somehow managed to stop herself from groaning as this time she actually felt her clit pulse. “So, we can start whenever you’re ready.”
“Um…” Sally hesitated, pretending to scratch her ear so she could turn her head and steal a look at Max who gave her a nod. “Yeah, sure; let’s do this!” she told Amy.
“Great! I’ll start recording now.”
Sally saw Amy self-consciously fluff her brown locks and then heard her clear her throat. She must have then clicked something because the podcast window on Sally’s screen suddenly started flashing the word Recording in red, in the upper right-hand corner.
“Hi, everyone!” Amy started. “Welcome to another episode of Lesbeing—the Podcast! Yay! I’m your host, Amy Broadnax. Thank you for joining me! Today, for my twenty-fifth episode I am super excited because I have as my guest my favorite writer of lesbian romances, Jillian Ashley! And I know that she is a favorite of many of you as well! Jillian, welcome!”
Sally thought Amy was really good at this. She had a great voice, like a professional newscaster—trustworthy but not without sexiness—and even though the video only showed her from her sternum and up, she exuded an infectious energy and enthusiasm. So captivated was she by Amy that it took her a moment to remember that she was supposed to respond to Amy’s official on-air greeting.
“Oh! Hi, Amy! Um…” Sally tried to remember what guests on things like this said at this point. Then it hit her. “Thanks for having me!”
“Thank you for coming,” Amy replied, and Sally had to stifle a laugh as her mind went directly to imagining Amy, naked in Sally’s bed, peering up at her from between Sally’s legs, Sally’s center still convulsing from a recently-induced orgasm, and Amy purring, “Thank you for coming.”
&nbs
p; “So, let’s get started,” Amy said. “You are a hard person to get an interview with, Jillian! I know many others have tried and failed so I don’t mind admitting to feeling rather excited that you chose to finally come out into the open, as it were, on my show.”
The Max-sanctioned response appeared almost immediately and Sally read it.
“Well, I’m just naturally shy, is all. Even as a little girl I hated school plays or recitals—anything where I’d be the center of attention. It’s why I like writing. I can just keep to myself and not have to feel like there’s a spotlight on me.”
“I totally understand that,” Amy said. “So, let’s start off with some basics first. For example, when did you discover you had a talent for writing?”
“Oh, when I was in high school, actually,” Sally read. “One of my English teachers had everyone in the class write a short story and so I did. When we got our stories back, the teacher had given mine top marks and just couldn’t stop gushing about it. She then encouraged me to take an advanced writing class she taught and that’s when I knew.”
Sally wondered if Max had just related his own experience. She made a mental note to ask him about that later.
“And what made you start writing lesfic?” Amy then asked.
“Um…” she hesitated, buying time until Max transmitted the first sentences of her allowed response. “I have been a fan of lesfic novels for years! I can’t even imagine my life without them! They have brought me so much joy and entertainment, and one day I thought to myself, ‘Why not write one of your own?’ And so I did and that’s how the Gotham series was born.”
“Let’s talk about that for a moment,” Amy said. “You live in Oceanside, California…”
No, I live in Carlsbad. Oh, she means Jillian!
“Right,” Sally said.
“And I don’t detect an accent of any kind…Are you originally from California?”
“Um…yeah; born and bred.”
“But all of your books take place in New York City. What’s the connection?”
Yeah, Max, what’s the connection?
But she shouldn’t have doubted her friend. Before Amy had even finished her question, Max must have known what she was leading up to because his fingers had started flying over his keyboard as Amy was still talking. The result was that Sally had Jillian’s answer ready instantly.
“My Dad is from New York,” Sally read. “The Bronx, in fact. And my family used to vacation there a lot when I was growing up. I love New York; it’s such a great city! And when it came time to decide where I would set my lesfic story, I decided on New York because the city itself kind of becomes a character, you know? And I wanted the women in my story to be products of and reflections of all the urban drama and complications of the Big Apple.”
“Awesome!” Amy replied, and Sally thought that, yes, it was awesome. Max’s answer made Jillian Ashley, as played by Sally Lassiter, seem full of depth and insight.
She had to admit: She was having fun.
Chapter 7
Amy was now about forty-five minutes into her interview with the Jillian Ashley. It was hard for her to remain focused at times because no matter how much she paid attention to Jillian’s answers; no matter how much she thought about what her next question to the writer should be or how to appropriately respond to something Jillian said, part of Amy’s mind simply kept repeating the same thing over and over again.
Fuck, she’s hot!
Because Jillian Ashley was hot!
The woman talking to Amy over the internet from Oceanside was every fantasy Amy ever had about Jillian come true! She thought about that favorite daydream of her, meeting Jillian serendipitously and then topping her in bed, saying, “Chapter 25 in Fordham Road Fling. Do that to me!” This time, it made Amy cross her legs because now that she could put a face to the daydream, the thought of acting out Chapter 25 with this woman was enough to make her center feel molten.
Earlier, when the podcast software had created the video link between her and Jillian and Jillian’s face appeared on Amy’s monitor, Amy’s mouth had dropped open and all she could do was stare like an idiot at the gorgeous woman in Oceanside while her heart thudded in her chest. Fortunately, she had recovered quickly, but it still made her feel like a silly twelve-year-old girl spotting her celebrity crush in a restaurant.
But she had known from the bemused look on Jillian’s face that she hadn’t recovered quickly enough and had, in fact, conveyed her attraction to the writer. That had caused some momentary embarrassment, sure; however, Jillian hadn’t seemed bothered. It wasn’t as if she suddenly canceled the interview out of fear that Amy would be some kind of creepy stalker chick.
In fact…Amy was sure Jillian was attracted to her as well. A possibility that made Amy feel a little lightheaded and want to do her happy dance.
Checking the clock on her computer monitor, Amy knew she should start wrapping this interview up. Maybe two more questions. Three tops.
“So, how does it feel knowing about all the attention your novels garner? And what do you think about all the Jillian Ashley topics on Twitter and Facebook? Do you follow any of them?”
Jillian smiled.
“I do follow them! But not, like, obsessively or anything. I just like to take a peek every now and then to see what people are saying. Any writer who tells you differently is lying to you, by the way. The truth is, every writer wants to know that he—damn! I mean, she—has reached a certain group of people and is creating works that make those individuals happy. So, when I see positive things about my books, it’s very humbling.”
God, can this woman stop being so damn perfect?
Throughout the interview, Jillian had proven to Amy that she was smart, well-spoken, well-read, funny and insightful. Now she was displaying an appropriate dash of humility as well.
“Excellent answer,” Amy complimented Jillian. And now Amy wanted to turn the conversation to a steamier topic. In her brief podcasting career, Amy had learned that lesfic authors loved to discuss the sex scenes in their books.
“So…” she began, “I know for a fact that there are countless women out there who want to learn the magic behind how your amazing sex scenes develop! So…how do you come up with those ideas? What’s the Jillian Ashley process for approaching a steamy scene and then actually writing it?”
“Ah! Um…”
Amy was surprised that her guest seemed a little flustered, but it was also super cute.
“So, the sex scenes,” Jillian started again. “They are a mixture of fantasy and real life, actually. Some of the scenes contain elements of things I’ve done with women—I’m not going to tell you which ones,” she added with a laugh, “and others are simply made up. Let’s face it, us humans think about sex a lot, and I don’t mind admitting that I come up with my fair share of fun sexual scenarios on a daily basis. Some of them end up being so good I decide to write them in a novel.”
I have some fun sexual scenarios in my head now that I’d like you to write about, Jillian…
Jillian. Amy thought of another question to ask.
“Do you mind telling us if Jillian Ashley is a pen name? Trust me, I won’t ask your real name if it is.”
Amy saw Jillian doing that scratching thing with her ear again. She wondered if it was a nervous tic or if the writer should schedule an appointment with her doctor.
“It is a pen name, yes,” Jillian answered, but didn’t elaborate.
Amy wrapped up the interview by getting Jillian to tell viewers that the next novel in the Gotham series takes place in Manhattan and that, with luck, it should be finished and released sometime before Independence Day.
Damn! Two or three months?
Amy then launched into her sign-off.
“And that concludes this episode of ‘Lesbeing—the Podcast.’ I would like to thank the fabulous Jillian Ashley for joining us today! Jillian, thanks so much!”
“It was a pleasure, Amy!” Jillian responded, that unbelie
vable smile of hers making Amy’s center react.
“Until next time, everyone, this is Amy Broadnax reminding you to be safe, respect your fellow humans and for god’s sake, get the vaccine or get a mask!”
She clicked the Stop button on her laptop, feeling incredibly excited.
Scoop!
She had just scored the first live interview with Jillian Ashley! And it was a video interview too! Double scoop! All the other lesfic podcasts out there could suck it!
She looked back to Jillian. She really, really did not want to say goodbye yet.
“So, really, Jillian, thank you so much!”
“I had fun. This was interesting.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“So, what now?”
“Well, now I edit our recording. Don’t worry, I won’t edit it into making you look like a pro-Trump asshole.”
“That would definitely put a crimp in my book sales.”
Amy laughed.
“Right. Anyway, once I edit it, I’ll release it. Would you like me to send you an email when I do that?”
“Please!”
Amy’s mind was working furiously. They were at a natural stopping point now. She was sure Jillian was incredibly busy and as a good host, she should just let Jillian get back to her evening. But damn, she really didn’t want to do that!
Just ask her already!
“Hey, listen,” she started, “I’d really like to buy you coffee one day. Or a drink. As a thank you for appearing on my show. I’m live right next door in Carlsbad.”
“Oh my God, I’d love that!” Jillian responded instantly, making Amy’s heart soar. Amy thought she heard something fall in the background on Jillian’s end. Jillian looked off to her side in surprise and then returned her focus to Amy. “Just the cat,” Jillian said.
“Aww, I love cats! Anyway, um…coffee one day soon? I know the perfect place. How does Friday evening sound? I have a day job, so…”