by Sabrina Kane
Max sighed.
“Look ladies,” he began, “it makes no difference to me, okay? But I suppose it’s up to her.” And he pointed at Sally.
Sally was now the center of attention in the room, with both Amy and Max looking at her. It made her natural shyness kick in and she suddenly felt like she did back in her schooldays whenever she had to stand in front of the class to deliver an oral book report.
“You’re so fucking cute when you blush,” Amy said, with her thousand-watt smile. A simple statement but it went a long towards helping Sally’s nerves dissipate.
“I already agreed I’d help you by pretending to be Jillian for a while,” she told Max. “Besides…since everybody in my life already thinks I’m her, it will be good practice.”
Chapter 21
Amy put her desk phone down and looked at the masked woman sitting in her guest chair.
“He can take the case,” she told her client, Patricia, her voice slightly muffled by her own mask. Even though the organization she worked for had re-opened their office in Carlsbad a couple of months ago, following over a year of having their employees work from home, and even though all of the staff, including Amy, was fully vaccinated by now, everyone who entered the building was still required to wear masks.
“And don’t let the fact that he’s a man fool you,” Amy said with a chuckle. “Trust me, he’s one of the good guys.”
Amy had just fixed Patricia up with a lawyer who agreed to take her case pro-bono. Patricia, who worked for an office supply company, had been passed over for promotion several times by her boss, each time in favor of a less-qualified man. She had finally had enough and wanted to sue but couldn’t even dream of affording a lawyer on her salary, especially with three children to support.
Amy printed information about the lawyer and gave it to her client, promising to stay in touch and be available for her if needed. In truth, Amy wanted to keep abreast of this case. She had seen far too many of them during her career so far. What she couldn’t understand was why such things were still happening. How was it possible that there are men out there—in charge of companies, no less—who still had such Mad Men-era concepts of gender roles?
After seeing Patricia out, Amy returned to her office, sat down and sighed. It was Wednesday afternoon and she was ready for the day to be over. She loved her job but on certain days, like this one, it really hit her what a Sisyphean task it is trying to make the world a better place for women. Patricia had only been the last of several appointments she’d had today with all sorts of women who needed her organization’s help.
“Knock-knock.”
Amy was snapped from her reverie by her boss, Makeda, standing just outside her open office door.
“Hey!” Amy said. “Come in.”
Makeda did so, taking a seat in front of Amy’s desk.
Makeda was the director of the North County Women’s Rights Group, a middle-aged African-American woman with a slight southern accent left over from her childhood in Louisiana.
“Guess what?” Makeda asked.
“Um…we’re all living in the Matrix?”
Makeda laughed.
“No. You’re running point on the Edelmann meeting.”
Amy was shocked and she knew her face showed it.
The “Edelmann meeting” referred to the meeting which Makeda and Amy had secured with Christine Edelmann, one of San Diego County’s supervisors. The topic of discussion was about advancing debate on adding an amendment to the county’s constitution guaranteeing equal rights for women.
“Wow! Thank you!” Amy really was appreciative of what a huge gesture of faith and trust this meant Makeda was showing.
“You earned it,” Makeda told her. “I’ll be there too, of course, but I think you’ll do a great job of presenting our case and getting Edelmann on board to work with us on this. And if we can get her on board…”
Amy nodded, not needing Makeda to finish that statement. Supervisor Edelmann had influence, to put it mildly—and if she really did decide to run for mayor of San Diego like the rumors were suggesting…
“I’ll admit that I’m being strategic, as well, with giving you this assignment,” Makeda went on. “I think your youth will be our ace in the hole. Too many politicians think that equal rights amendments are something only women who were around during the seventies care about but we need to start showing them that young women like you are just as passionate about it.”
“Definitely,” Amy agreed, feeling incredibly excited about this. In fact, this conversation was giving her an idea for a podcast episode—one that would somehow tie the struggle for LGBTQ rights with women’s rights in general. As soon as she got home, she resolved to start doing some research and making some notes for it.
“I’ll start preparing for the meeting right away,” she told Makeda. She reminded herself of today’s date, realizing she’d have less than a week to put together a kick-ass presentation for Supervisor Edelmann.
“You do that,” Makeda said, rising and heading for the door. But at the door she stopped. “And once we’re done with that meeting, you’re going on vacation.”
Amy blinked.
“Wait. What?”
Makeda gave her a bemused look.
“You heard me,” she said. “I took a look and you have too much time saved up. Which reminds me…What have you been saving it for? A special trip?”
“No,” Amy replied. Her and Rachel had wanted to take a trip to Italy together in 2020 but of course that plan got shot down by a microscopic virus and so she had ended up only taking a few days off here and there last year, staying local each time. Italy still wasn’t an option because of Europe’s problems with the vaccination roll-out, she considered. But, if she was going to be forced to take a vacation, perhaps she could find somewhere domestic to go. San Francisco came to mind immediately. It was one of her favorite cities and she supposed she could tear herself away from work enough to enjoy visiting the wonderful museums and parks there; hanging out at the wharf and, of course, eating some spectacular seafood.
It might be fun to take that trip with Sally.
She tried to shake that thought out of her head immediately. Sally? Really? Today was Wednesday, which meant their first date was five days ago. You don’t plan on taking a trip with somebody you first started seeing five days ago.
But why had she (briefly) thought about it?
And why was her mind still trying to get her to keep thinking about it?
***
“Jesus God!”
Amy screamed as the orgasm exploded through her pelvis, her pussy squeezing those wonderfully long fingers of Sally’s. She then couldn’t scream anymore because Sally’s lips suddenly covered hers for a deep and hungry kiss and so all of the other sounds she was now making went directly into Sally’s mouth.
When the orgasm subsided, Sally left Amy’s lips to kiss her way down her neck and then to her chest. Nipples that were already practically marble became even harder when Sally began sucking on them one by one, raking her teeth against them occasionally as she did so, eliciting yearning groans from Amy.
The three fingers that were still inside her began gently moving again, in and out, in and out; curling and straightening, curling and straightening…
Amy felt her come leaking out, running down and coating her rear opening. She tried to telepathically tell Sally it would be perfectly okay if one of her come-slicked fingers found its way in there. She’d enjoy it. She’d come that much harder. But she didn’t dare voice that request yet. She first needed to suss out if Sally was into that. It wasn’t every woman’s cup of tea, after all.
“Oh my god, baby!” she grunted as her next climax was expertly brought closer and closer to the surface. Now Sally started pumping her fingers in and out with more vigor, Amy matching her rhythm with her thrusting hips until…
“Fucking god!!” she half screamed/half gasped, psychedelic colors popping behind her eyelids as her entire universe
condensed down to the explosions of pleasure happening in her core.
When it was over, Sally withdrew her fingers slowly and then lay down next to the still quivering Amy who felt she needed a few moments before she could move again. When she was finally able to, she rolled onto her side to face Sally and cuddle with her, Sally wrapping those long legs of hers around Amy’s lower half.
They were at Amy’s tonight; Sally having come over after work. They had meant to order in dinner when Sally arrived but almost as soon as Amy had let her in, they were all over each other and then it was very Who needs food? as the foreplay started in the living room and the actual fucking started in the bedroom.
But now, at almost six o’clock, Amy’s stomach let out a low growl, causing both women to giggle.
“What do you want to order?” Sally asked.
“No, let me cook us something,” Amy insisted, reluctantly making her way off the bed.
“As long as I can help,” Sally replied, also standing up. Amy tossed Sally her shirt which had been hurriedly taken off earlier and tossed to the floor. For herself, she pulled out a comfy pj set from her dresser and doing so prompted a question to come to her mind.
“Are you staying?” she asked Sally.
“It’s your apartment; you tell me,” Sally answered with a smirk.
“You’re staying,” Amy declared.
Sally approached and wrapped her arms around the still nude Amy.
“Ooh, bossy!”
Amy smiled.
“And horny. But hungry. Go change into your pjs so I don’t feel underdressed.”
A few minutes later, the two pj-clad women were in Amy’s kitchen. Breakfast for dinner sounded good to both of them and while Amy made omelets with diced green peppers, Sally took care of making bacon. While they cooked, Amy told Sally about Makeda’s decision to make her the point person for the meeting with County Supervisor Edelmann.
“Babe, that’s huge!” Sally said. “Congrats!”
“Thank you. I’m going to have to work really super-duper hard to get our presentation ready in time.”
“When is the meeting?”
“Tuesday.”
“Fuck!” Sally exclaimed, taking her eyes off the sizzling bacon still in the pan. “That’s, like, soon!”
“I know,” Amy replied, nodding. In truth, ever since her discussion with Makeda, she had hardly stopped thinking about the presentation and all the work she still needed to do to complete it and make it as kick-ass as possible. She not only wanted to prove to Makeda that Makeda’s trust in her was well-placed, but she also really, really wanted to get this amendment added to the county constitution. Okay, it wasn’t like amending the sacred U.S constitution but it would be a triumph nonetheless and would also be a warning shot across the bows of other municipalities across the nation that women were not going to sit idle while basic guarantees of equal rights were still missing from the charter documents of states, counties, cities and towns all over America.
“I know for sure I’m going to end up working on it after hours the next couple of days,” she went on. The omelets were ready and so she started plating them.
“For sure,” Sally said. “I should probably make sure to leave you in peace until you get it done.”
Fuck!
Keeping her eyes focused on plating the omelets, Amy pursed her lips. That hadn’t been what she meant when she mentioned to Sally how much effort and time the presentation would take. On the other hand, it would be better not to have any distractions around.
“Um…yeah, I guess so,” she told Sally. She hoped her voice wasn’t telegraphing her disappointment at the possibility of not seeing Sally the rest of the week.
Jesus, get a grip! It’s only a few days!
“I often have to bring work home when we’re doing a big job for a huge client, so I know what it’s like,” Sally said. “Do you think you’ll have any time this coming weekend to hang out, even if it’s just for a little while?”
Amy told herself to look on the bright side. At least the woman she was seeing was understanding about professional obligations and not getting bent out of shape because Amy wouldn’t be able to pay much attention to her. It was actually really, really sweet of Sally to suggest giving her some space.
“Of course,” Amy answered, giving Sally a full smile.
By the weekend, I’m going to want to eat you alive!
Chapter 22
Two days later, Sally logged into Facebook on her phone for the first time in over a week. The day after the interview on Amy’s podcast, Sally had turned off notifications from all of her social media apps because there were just too many of them. Now, looking at her Facebook account, she sighed.
There were over 500 notifications and by quickly skimming through them she could tell they were all about her circle of followers discovering that she was Jillian Ashley. What’s more, word was getting out beyond her normal Facebook bunch. Many of the notifications showed that she had been tagged in posts made by her Facebook friends to other people, identifying her as the extremely popular lesfic author. This in turn had led to countless friend requests as well as her Facebook inbox being jammed with direct messages from people she didn’t know.
Of all the notifications, she noticed three that were important to her: pictures of her six-year-old niece, Jodi, that had been shared by Sally’s sister, Camille.
Twitter and Instagram were the same: both accounts, which she had assiduously avoided over the past ten days, were overloaded with notifications and the discovery that she had gained thousands of new followers.
She closed the apps and set the phone down on her desk at BRX Graphic Design. A few weeks ago, the company had initiated a return-to-office scheme which was a hybrid model of working in the office one week and working from home the next week. Just until the pandemic was well and truly done. This was one of the work-from-office weeks.
Arrayed on her desktop were a collection of concept images her team had put together for one of their clients, a boutique music label which produced vinyl record albums. The client needed artwork for a new limited-edition series of LPs they were getting ready to release and Sally knew none of the concepts she was looking at would make the cut. Jamal’s concept was the most promising and so Sally spent some time making notes on his print and drawing some quick sketches which would demonstrate to the team how to take Jamal’s idea and enhance it until it became something more likely to match the client’s brief.
Done with that, she got up for some more coffee. In the breakroom, she had just popped her K-cup into the Keurig and hit Start when the new intern, Clara, came in. Clara had just joined the team on Wednesday and was still learning the ropes. Sally, as manager of the team and remembering her days as an intern had taken on the role of Clara’s mentor, making sure the super young college student wasn’t overwhelmed while still having interesting things to do each day.
“Hey, Clara, what’s up?” Sally greeted her.
Above the Spongebob Squarepants face mask Clara had on, her eyes were wide as she looked at Sally. She seemed too scared to approach her boss.
Sally frowned. Clara was very cute and Sally hoped none of the guys in the building had been behaving inappropriately towards her.
“Um…is everything okay?”
Clara nodded.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to say that I’m a big fan of yours!”
Sally blinked. Sure, during her time at BRX she had worked on a few high-profile ad campaigns for some pretty big clients, and it still thrilled her each time she saw one of her designs out in the wild, but she had hardly made a name for herself. Then again, the world of graphic design was kind of niche. Maybe Clara had done some research before applying for one of the coveted internship slots here at BRX and had actually seen some of Sally’s work.
She smiled behind her mask.
“Thank you! That’s sweet!”
“I have read all your books!” Clara gushed.
&n
bsp; Books?
It took a moment, but then…
Oh, good lord! Seriously?
“When I started here on Wednesday,” Clara went on, “I was, like, ‘Wait, I know her from somewhere!’ and then I was, like, ‘She’s Jillian Ashley!’”
Behind her mask, Sally’s lips were tightly pressed together.
Of course we’d get an intern who’s a lesbian and of course she saw my interview.
Sally had learned that a woman didn’t even need to be a subscriber to Amy’s podcast to have seen the interview. It was now just out there…out in the ether of the internet, completely unattached to Amy’s website, an unstoppable force that was reaching audiences far and wide, all because Amy had scored a rare in-person interview with Jillian Ashley.
Well, with Sally pretending to be Jillian Ashley.
“Thanks,” Sally managed to say. “I’m glad you like my books.”
“Like them? I love them! You and Suzanne Collins are my favorite writers.”
Sally chuckled. Max should get a kick out of learning that for at least one person, his books are right up there with The Hunger Games.
“I know it’s probably completely unprofessional,” Clara continued, “but would you…?” And she held out a book and a Sharpie.
It was the paperback version of The Fordham Road Fling. Sally had a copy of it herself, buying it after first reading the novel on her Kindle. Sally had never so much as opened the book. When it arrived from Amazon, she had wanted to keep it pristine, untouched, in mint condition. Each re-reading of Fordham Road that she had done—and so far, she was up to six times doing that—had been done using her Oasis.
“Sure, no problem,” Sally muttered, taking the book and Sharpie from Clara.
Wait. How did writers do this? Did they autograph the cover or one of the pages inside? She hurriedly tried to remember a movie or a TV show or something showing a writer autographing a book and for some reason a scene from some movie starring John Cusack popped into her head. She remembered that he opened the books fans gave him to sign. So she did that. The first page displayed the title and “by Jillian Ashley” and so that seemed as good a place as any.