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4/20/2022

PE: Free: Perfect Snapshots: Episode Two

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Episode Two

I watched as Asa came down the hall, playing with her fingers anxiously as she did. She had showered and changed into clean clothes after her flight. I couldn’t blame her. I liked getting cleaned up after traveling, too. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder. It had already started to curl around the edges where it was drying. Her new outfit was a short-sleeved black jersey cotton dress that went right above her knees. It fit her nicely, hugging her hips and flaring out slightly around her thighs. And she was wearing knee socks, making my mind go to horrible places automatically.

I swallowed back my nerves and perverse thoughts and smiled. “You didn’t have to rush.”

“No. It’s fine. Thanks for being patient.” She grinned, her eyes downcast as she spoke.

I needed to keep talking and moving, so she couldn’t see what she was doing to me. I had to pretend to be normal. Literally, I had met her only minutes before, and I was being a fucking idiot. Getting off the couch, I brought my computer over to the bar.

“I was going to order takeaway. What would you like?”

Her hand went up to her heart again, her eyes a little wide. “Oh. I don’t know. I don’t know what my options are.”

Nervously, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “It’s L.A. So pretty much anything you want.” I will get you whatever you want, baby.

Coming to stand beside me, she offered, “Why don’t you pick a style?” I could smell the fresh hot shower scent wafting off of her. “I’m not picky.”

I blurted out, “Asian?” That was always my first choice because it was my favorite. My mouth was taking over again, thankfully.

Smiling, she bit her lip. “Sure.”

I went to the right screen. My hands were shaking a little. What the hell was wrong with me? She wasn’t doing anything.

“Chinese?”

“Sounds great.” Her voice was so soft and sweet. I really enjoyed her accent. I wanted to ask her all about it. Actually, I wanted to ask her a million questions. I wanted to spend the rest of the night getting to know her.

I showed her the screen. “These are the top ones. Why don’t you pick one?” She was so close, and she was leaning over slightly. I could see down her dress to the tops of her very round and lovely breasts. Quickly glancing away, I pulled out a stool so she could sit beside me. But it didn’t help, and I still could. I could only keep my eyes directly pointed at the list, pretending to read, but I couldn’t focus on a single word.

Asa selected my favorite place. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. I order there a lot. It’s so good. Do you want to get a bunch of stuff and just share? So we can have a bit of everything?” I always ordered a shit ton, anyway. This way, I would seem less like a pig.

I loved the way her lips pursed when she thought. They looked so kissable.

Sometimes, I really hated my douchebag brain.

“Oh, sure. Sounds great.”

I picked all my favorites before passing it over to her. It was all the things I would usually just get for myself.

“Okay, what would you like?”

Her eyes flitted over everything, but she didn’t add anything else. “Duck sauce, if they have it. Um, do you have soy sauce?”

“Yeah, I sure do.” I didn’t like the cheap shit, so I always kept some in the cabinet. I went to fetch it for her so she could see if she liked it too. “Do you want to order yourself a drink or a dessert?” I hoped she wasn’t not getting anything because she was nervous.

As she added a drink, she was quick to answer, “Don’t you think that’s enough food?” I realized then I had forgotten my favorite dessert, but I really felt like a piggy.

Stupidly, I pouted, “I guess.” She giggled at my expression, making me smile. It was a lovely sound. I wanted to hear it again.

“Don’t let that stop you, though. I doubt I can eat as much as you can.” She was probably right. But she was also correct about the other thing. And I was right to think I was a pig. For multiple reasons.

“No, you’re right. It is a lot of food. I tend to go overboard with things I like,” I admitted as I ordered a drink for now and another for later to have with my leftovers in the middle of the night.

“If you want to split the check, I have cash.” She patted her hip before she realized she had changed out of her trousers and didn’t have her money on her. She made moves as if she was going to go get it from her bedroom.

“No, I got this.” There was no way I was going to be anything other than a gentleman the entire time she was around. I wanted to impress her, and I didn’t know how else to do it.

She mumbled, “Thank you.”

“No problem. In fact, while you’re a guest in my home, food is on me,” I promised before even realizing what I was doing. But she didn’t seem to like what I said. She shook her head, her hair falling off her shoulder as she did. I wanted to brush the water droplets off her exposed skin but didn’t.

Asa replied quickly, “That’s unnecessary.”

“No, no. You’re here because of me, and I was raised to be a gracious host,” I told her warmly. That was kind of a lie. My mother hated guests. Well, she despised people in general. But my grandparents had always been very hospitable, and they would have approved of this sort of thing.

“You don’t have to pay for all of my food to be a gracious host.” She pursed her pretty lips, looking away in almost embarrassment. I didn’t know what to do or say. I shut my laptop, trying to think. My mouth took charge and led the way.

“I suppose it’s possible, but I have the ability and enjoy doing it. I pay for my friends,” I quoted a line from one of my favorite songs. It had been stuck in my head for three days.

“And do you take it as a compliment?” Asa asked rather flirtatiously, smiling as she used my bad song line back at me. She did it to the beat, too. I couldn’t help but smile and nod happily. I already liked her tastes in music. She bit her lip as she considered my words, looking so bashful. “I want to argue, but my bank account says to shut up and say thank you.”

“No, it’s cool! You’re very welcome!” I said too loudly. I needed to chill the fuck out. “So, I was going to sit outside and smoke while we waited for the food. Would you care to join me?” I tried to act smooth, but I was failing incredibly. I stretched, attempting to get some of the nervous energy out. She seemed calm in comparison. She looked off towards the pool. It was why I bought the house in the first place. She was so beautiful and thoughtful. I caught myself smiling stupidly.

“Sounds good.” Her eyes moved over me for just a second before looking outside again.

Normally, I didn’t smoke before sundown, but Sundays were my day off, so I usually spent it somewhat high, hoping to unwind. At the store, I had picked a nice bud, and they rolled it into joints with filters that I kept in a scent-proof silver case. I had gotten it when I first started smoking because I thought it was cool, but I wasn’t in any way.

Leading the way to the pool, I pulled the box from my shorts pocket. She was watching from her seat, her lips ever so slightly parted and her eyes curious.

I wanted to rub my finger over her bottom lip and see what her tongue felt like.

Fucking chill.

Quickly, I brought the joint to my mouth and lit it.

“Would you like some?” I took a long drag, hoping it would calm me. It was legal in California, so I didn’t feel so bad offering. I had been prudish growing up, so this was quite a difference.

“No, thank you.” Asa smiled, tilting her face ever so slightly down bashfully again. It was fucking adorable. Swallowing, I realized I might have fucked up already.

Cool. Let’s do drugs five minutes after meeting her. Good idea.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked first if it bothered you.” When I rushed to put it out, she reached forward to stop me.

“No. It doesn’t. I smoke at home sometimes. I just don’t want to be unprofessional right now. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, so I don’t wanna screw it up.”

Right, this was work. She wasn’t here for me. This was a professional thing. Fuck.

“You’re not working until tomorrow. But I understand. Let me know if you change your mind.” I took another hit, feeling embarrassed as the words just came out. I looked out at the sunset so I didn’t have to meet her inquisitive eyes.

“How’s the weed here?” Genuinely interested, she didn’t seem bothered.

“Strong. But I only started smoking this year, so I’m not sure how it compares. I’ve been using it for my anxiety and insomnia. My doctor recommended it.”

Watching me, she tilted her head to the side again. Her hair was visibly getting curlier, drying in the dying sunlight. “Does it help?”

Well, that very much depended. “The sleeplessness it does for sure. I am not positive about the anxiety. It helps at the moment, but you can’t be stoned all the time either. I rarely smoke this early, but Sundays are my off day. The weed does help when I can’t get my brain to shut off, though.” Maybe I didn’t need to be that frank with her. I decided to change the subject. “So, how was your flight?” Her eyes were so intently focused on me. It made butterflies swirl in the pit of my stomach.

Pleasantly, she replied, “Luckily uneventful.” She paused for a moment. “Your home is gorgeous.”

I was really proud of my place. It was the first house I had ever bought, and I had paid for it in cash upfront. It was all mine, no matter what happened in the future. “Thank you. I just moved in a little over six months ago, so I don’t really have enough things to fill it yet. But I only had a small flat before in Sydney, and I was sharing it with my best mate, Spencer.” I wasn’t sure why I told her that.

Asa looked away again. “Well, I can’t judge you for it. I own very little, and I share an apartment with my best friend, too. I sleep in the living room, and she has the bedroom.”

That wasn’t the reply I had expected. “Oh.”

She laughed, sincere and bright. “That makes it sound terrible. My bedroom is surprisingly huge and not just by New York standards. And we have lovely hardwood floors. Our neighborhood is nice and quiet, with lots of families. Plus, you can see the Empire State Building from my window.”

She seemed delighted about it. And to see the Empire State Building must have been something. I had been before, and it was always breathtaking to see it lit up on the skyline, especially at night.

“Wow. Do you live in Manhattan?”

She laughed again. “No. Not for the price I’m paying. I live on the edge of Sunnyside and Astoria in Queens. It’s not as unique a boast as it sounds, being able to see a cool building in New York. It just makes me happy still.” I didn’t know any of those places besides Queens, so I made a mental note to look them up later.

“Well, it sounds like something to boast about. New York is lovely. Maybe I’ll live there one day. For the summertime, anyway,” I mused, tapping out the ashes of my joint. It was already making me feel a little better.

“Oh, not for the summer. It’s too muggy, and there isn’t enough air conditioning everywhere like in the south. New York was made for autumn. And spring isn’t bad either. Honestly, I love snow, too. It’s my favorite,” she said, almost wistfully, with a soft laugh in her beautiful voice. You could tell she really loved her home. Her smile was so friendly.

“It rarely snows in Australia. It happens from time to time, but it’s nothing like I imagine it does in New York,” I continued, for once happy my mouth was carrying on a conversation without me.

“Especially around the mountains. We always go to the Finger Lakes to see the snow in the mountains and forest. My roommate and I sometimes rent a cabin.”

“Sounds peaceful.”

“It is. We like to go up to Maine or Vermont to take photos, too. Usually, just for a weekend. She likes to take pictures, but as a hobby,” she explained. She seemed to enjoy the subject.

I didn’t know a thing about the Northeast. I still knew little about the United States in general. “What is there to do in Vermont?”

“Um... you can... eat cheese and get lost in the woods. There is probably maple syrup,” she joked. I couldn’t help but laugh. She smiled, pleased to have amused me.

Nodding, I tapped my ashes out again. “I like the cheese part.”

Her eyes were mesmerizing. Asa scrunched up her nose, smiling. “The woods part isn’t too bad, either. It’s beautiful. Especially right now. The end of October is the peak leaves season. You should have seen it this morning on the way to the airport from my apartment, with so much gorgeous red foliage all along the interstate. I hadn’t been that way in ages and had forgotten how beautiful it could be, especially at sunrise. And it was foggy, too. Such a perfect serene morning.”

I took another hit, my heart beating violently in my chest again for a reason I couldn’t explain as I listened to her speak. It was almost as if she was reciting a lovely poem. “The way you describe it makes me want to take a flight at sunrise in New York City.”

“If you’re going to travel at sunrise in New York, may I suggest the ferry? You can watch it rise behind the Statue of Liberty. It’s free, too,” she continued. Asa smirked a little. “Well, almost free. It’s the same as a bus or subway ride.”

I was exhausted just thinking about another morning. I had to be honest with her about my sleep schedule. Barely scraping by, sleep-wise, it had made me a grouchy asshole.

“That sounds nice, but I think I’m going to have to warn you right now that I am not a morning person. At all. As I said, I’m an insomniac. I try not to plan anything until the afternoon. You know, I should probably send you my work schedule for the next week. What’s your email?” I rambled again nervously, pulling out my mobile. I was definitely going to internet stalk her that evening when I was alone.

“Uhhh... Asa Kind photography at Gmail.” She looked over, biting her lip as she watched me. I swallowed hard.

I put my smoke down, trying not to seem like a creep. “We should have each other’s cell phone numbers. Just in case your gate code doesn’t work or whatever.” I half expected her to tell me to piss off, but she took my cell without question and typed in her number. When she handed it back, I sent her a message so she would have mine. She giggled softly when she saw the stupid emojis I quickly selected.

Amused, she said, “I got it.”

“Great,” I smiled. That went better than expected. “By the way, if you ever need to get into the house without me, I’ll give you the passcode. It’s a keyless entry.”

“How fancy. Well, mine has TWO deadbolts and a chain.” She put her pretty chin high in the air, pretending to be snobby. Instead, she came off as charming and adorable. I beamed. She was enchanting.

The doorbell rang, pulling me out of my daze. I jumped out of my chair to go fetch the food. It gave me a moment to breathe, my hammering heart making my chest ache. She came in after me, watching me from the doorway. She looked like a glowing angel dressed in all black with the backdrop of the fiery orange sunset against the mountains.

She helped me take everything out of the bag as I got us plates. She delicately used chopsticks while I could barely ham-fist a fork. Her hands were dainty and so small, her arms slender. I liked the way her fingers always seemed to go to her lips subconsciously.

I hadn’t predicted she would be so easy to talk to. My mouth was happily running away with her, but she didn’t seem to mind in the least. She took in everything I said with such sweet curiosity. Asa was also incredibly witty, always quick with a full answer to my questions. She seemed brilliant.

I tried to imagine her age, but I couldn’t decide how old she was. I didn’t think she was much out of college, but I wasn’t sure. She was so delicate, all of her features smooth. Her lips and cheeks were plump, as were her breasts and ass, as I had told my best mate earlier in my stupid texts. But I was actually having the hardest time not staring into her eyes. They were so enthralling.

My phone vibrated beside me. Spencer sent, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“You’re a dumbass,” I replied. Sighing, I considered my options. I did want a picture of her. I also wanted him to tell me she was hot too, so I knew I wasn’t acting like a tool for no reason.

I had just finished making my plate, so I used it as an excuse to snap a photo of her from across the top of the table. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I’m one of those trash people who likes to take photos of their food.”

She laughed. “You know I’m a photographer, right? I do it all the time. Like, daily.”

I chuckled, “I guess I forgot.” I decided to take a chance. It would be better if she actually agreed to it. “Can I take a picture of you? I need one for my contacts. It’s easier if there’s a name and a face.”

“Oh, sure.” She sat up straighter, holding up her chin to the side and smiling ever so slightly with her mouth closed. Asa folded her arms on the table, posing for me. She had pulled her hair out of her headband at some point and started wearing it around her wrist as a bracelet. Her wild curls almost blended into the black background, except for where the light reflected off the shiny strands.

“Thanks,” I breathed. “That’s a good picture.”

“Let me see.” She leaned over, so I showed her the image. “It’s not bad. Those phones have decent cameras. I’m going to have to upgrade someday.”

She must have been hungry because she ate a lot quickly. By the end, she also seemed to become more tired. Resting her temple on her palm, her eyes looked exhausted with faint hints of purple along the edges. I knew how she felt. When she straightened up, she said, “Thank you so much for the lovely meal. I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours.”

“Me too,” I admitted. Maybe we had some things in common. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I replied, already excited to be around her again.

I watched as she left, putting away the leftovers for later. Her ass looked so good as she walked, swishing as it went. She had deliciously thick thighs, too. Asa was well-built. She was definitely the sexiest woman I had ever shared a meal with.

I texted the picture to Spencer when I heard the bedroom door close.

“I can see why you’re in love. She could fuck me left, right, and sideways.”

His words made me laugh. “Ikr,” I typed back. “She’s got a brain, too. She’s funny af.”

“Does it matter when it comes with those tits? I’d sure like to take her on a bumpy ride in my Jeep. God bless that shirt.”

“It was a dress. A short one. With black knee socks.” I sent him a gif of a man biting his fist.

He asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Not a fucking clue. What can I?”

“Idk… Ask for her bloody phone number?” Spencer acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He wasn’t great at relationships, but he could always get dates.

“Actually, I already have.”

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Episode One

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4/6/2022

PE: Free: Perfect Snapshots: Episode One

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Episode Two

Episode One

“Abena, explain to me why I wanna do this?” I asked into the phone in annoyance as I tried to edit some visuals. This was the third time she had called me in a week about this goddamn Vaudevillian thing, and I was sick of hearing about it.

She shot back, “You wanna be big-time or not?”

Sarcastically, I demanded, “And how is being in one big-time, exactly? Aren’t magazines dead?”

“This is different. This is the magazine. The one directors read. And the producers and studios read. This is snobby shit that matters. You have to be in it! This Disney thing needs to be thrown out there. You’re quality, and we need to be promoting you that way.”

“Don’t you think I’m promoting myself enough on my own? I happen to prefer controlling what I put out.”

She knew this. She didn’t like it. And she didn’t care. That was not part of her job.

“You still get to be in control. And you’re getting your way on the photographer. They’ve finally agreed, and it’s already been arranged. He’ll be there on the fourteenth of October. And they’re staying at your house,” my manager firmly replied. “I want you to appear as open and welcoming as possible.”

I took a long swig of my beer. “That sounds terrible.”

“It makes you seem more trustworthy to the Disney folks if you’re an open book. Jules, you said you’d do it if you got to pick. You did. Now you have to go through with it. Stop being a pain in my ass. It’ll be fine.”

I tapped the bottom of the bottle on my desk. “What if this dude is a fucking weirdo?”

“Then you’ll have something in common,” she returned, making me click my tongue in exasperation. “If he is, then I’ll drive him to a hotel myself. Just be nice. Get it over with, and you’ll get more work than you’ll know what to do with. Be charming. I know you can be,” she scolded me properly.

“But a week is so long,” I whined like a child.

“No, it’s not. Alright- Look... You’re not getting out of this now. It’s done. Anyway, I’m sending over three manuscripts I want you to read. And I’ve got a couple of offers from Blue Box I need you to glance at, but no scripts yet. They involve some motion capture stuff.”

I rubbed my fingers over my forehead, a headache forming in the back of my skull. “Alright, sounds good. Send them my way.” Sighing, I already felt exhausted. I wasn’t sleeping well. “October fourteenth. What time?” I brought the calendar up on my computer. It was a Sunday, my day off.

Great.

“The flight should arrive around six pm.” Abena quickly added, “Check your emails.”

I typed in the information she gave me. Trying to keep the sourness out of my tone but failing, I said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got to get back to work. Have a good evening.” Ignoring it, she wished me a pleasant night.

I attempted to push it out of my head until the day of. Luckily, I was always busy, so that made it easier.

The night before, I didn’t sleep at all, no matter how much I tried. I smoked to relax, but my anxiety consumed me as I thought about the invader coming into my home. At least I finished two videos and started on a third. I was annoyingly productive when I didn’t rest, making it a harder habit to break.

As time got closer to when the photographer was supposed to arrive, I moved into my living room to listen for him. I looked at zero of the information I had been sent about it, wanting to avoid the anxiety. I had a script to read for some animated project I would rather throw my attention at, even if I wasn’t sure I was feeling it. But I might have just disliked it because I was in a foul mood.

My phone vibrated, distracting me from my reading. “I am so bloody bored.” Spencer asked, “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for this wanker to show up. Should be here at any moment. Then I’m going to order dinner,” I typed back. “It’s making me anxious.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like strangers in my house.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure me. “Why don’t you do one of your videos?”

He was referring to my diary. One of the few people who knew about it, my best mate understood it made me feel better to talk out my feelings. He was the only person I was almost completely unguarded with. I had been making a lot of journal entries lately. Being alone in America had been rough.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Not a terrible idea.”

I tossed the script to the side and brought up my smartphone, turning on the front-facing camera. Grimacing, I pushed my hair away from my forehead. I needed to shave. And probably brush my teeth. I showered the night before, but I had done nothing all day.

“So, it’s October fourteenth, and it is...” I looked at my watch. “Just after seven in the evening. And I am waiting for this complete stranger to come into my house, and I fucking hate it. I already feel so uncomfortable around the media because I don’t know how to handle myself, but to have them in my home? Fuck. I realize Abena wants me to seem as welcoming as possible, but damn. It’s... I’m not entirely sure I can do it. God, I hope they’re normal,” I said into the camera. I winced again when I heard a car pull into my driveway. “And here they are.”

I walked to the door, leaning to look through the curtain-covered front windows beside it. I could see an older man pulling a suitcase out of the boot of the vehicle, but not the person next to them.

“I wonder if it’s the old guy,” I mumbled.

Then he handed the luggage over to perhaps the tiniest woman I had ever seen. First, all I could make out was her general form, short but heavily curved in all the right ways. Her wild, black curly hair fell all the way down past her shoulders to the center of her back. She was dressed casually in a long-sleeved v-neck t-shirt and tight blue jeans. There was a flannel coat tied around her waist. Not that she needed it. It was quite warm.

I realized I didn’t know the name of the photographer. Didn’t Abena say he? There was no gender mentioned at all on their website when I researched before. They just had their gorgeous bright pictures for sale.

“It’s not a man,” I murmured stupidly into the camera because that was what my brain was stuck on. She came more into view as she strode up the pathway. She was lightly tanned and maybe mixed race, but I wasn’t sure how. The feature I noticed first was her nose. It was very strong in the middle of her symmetrical face, just above her plush pink lips. “Oh, she’s gorgeous. I think I might be in love,” I said in a soft whisper to the screen before I realized something. “Fuck, fuck, fuck... I haven’t showered,” I cursed as I turned off my phone and put it back in my pocket.

She brought the side of her thumb up to her mouth, biting into it before she lifted her other hand to ring the bell. She looked so nervous. I opened the door before the dinging sound even happened, my heart in my throat already. She gazed up at me in surprise, her lips parted slightly as she took a step back.

In the porch light, I noticed her eyes were different colors. Shockingly so. One was a pale, almost too bright blue, and the other was a solid dark chocolate brown. I had seen nothing like them before. My heart thumped against my ribs. Her hand popped up to her chest because I surprised her. Her tiny fingers rested just above her breast, holding her own racing heart in place.

Great start. Let’s scare her.

“Hello! Hi! Come in!” I said too loudly, my face stretched with a nervous smile. She grinned as I took a step back so she could. She couldn’t have been over five feet tall. At least one of my nieces was taller than her, even though she was clearly all woman. Very well-endowed, her full hips filled out her jeans in a pleasing way.

“Hi. Um, I’m Asa. From Vaudevillian Magazine.” Her voice was tiny and a little frightened, but I didn’t want her to be. How scary was it for her to stay in a stranger’s home alone? Especially a large man’s? I had to try to not be a creep. Or an asshole. My anxiety at having a stranger in my space melted away and was replaced with a new sort of nervousness.

“Yes! I’ve been expecting you. I’m so excited to meet you. I’m Julian. Of course, you know that already.” My heart crawled up my throat as I spoke. I could do this. I was good at talking to people. But I had to control my voice. “You can call me that or Jules, though. I don’t mind either. Here, let me take that,” I told her when I realized I was being rude for not getting her bags. My fingers moved across hers for a moment, sending tingles up my arm. I didn’t know what to do next, so my mouth automatically took over. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying real quick, and we can put this away. Then I was going to order take-away if you’re hungry.”

“Great,” she breathed. “Yeah. I am. I could use a restroom, too.” Her accent wasn’t what I was expecting. She had flown in from New York, but she sounded more southern. There was a slight twang to it.

“Right. There’s one in your room.” I hurried towards my spare bedroom. I had only been in it twice since I moved in. My maid came the day before to make sure it was prepared. “This is yours.” I had to feel for the light before finding it. The view was better than I realized, catching me off guard for just a second. When I turned back to look at her, she was gazing in wonder at the space. Then her mouth opened in a surprised smile. Her eyes were so bright and beautiful, her thick eyelashes fluttering as she took it in.

My hands were shaking.

Why were they trembling? What the hell was wrong with me? I had just met her.

Dizzy, I needed to get out of there. “I’ll give you some privacy so you can freshen up. I’ll be in the living room whenever you’re ready,” I tried to say calmly.

“Thanks,” Asa replied in a sweet voice, smiling back slightly. My lips curled automatically in a grin to match hers.

My panic attack started as soon as I shut the door. Pulling my phone out, I texted Spencer again. “Fuck, I think I just met the person I’m going to marry.”

“You are such a dramatic bitch,” he responded. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“The photographer is here, and she’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” I admitted, trying to take a deep breath through my nose. I wasn’t good at talking to women I wasn’t working with professionally. My ex used to complain about it. She said I was a real sarcastic asshole half the time. Actually, most of the time.

“I thought it was a guy.”

“I did, too.”

The message popped up quickly. “Obvo not, tho.”

I frowned at my mobile. That wasn’t helpful. “Yes, obviously.”

“So, how hot are we talking here? Can I have pics, pls?” He was trying to be funny. “I’m so lonely.”

“No, she’s getting settled in, and I’m not a creepy fucking bastard. She’s the tiniest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t scare her,” I informed him, pulling my computer onto my lap when I got onto the couch. I needed to find out more about her. Clearly, my research had not been adequate.

I typed in her name and New York photographer. Her website was Asa Kind Photography. I found a private Facebook page with her image, and the next search result was for her store, where I had ordered prints for my family the month before. I did like her photos, even if I hadn’t wanted her in my home. But I was certainly feeling differently about that now, and I hated not knowing more about her.

Fuck, why hadn’t I showered? I was a fucking slob.

“Well, a decent description, at least. I need to know what she looks like if you’re so infatuated already. You’re picky af. She must be hottt.”

I thought about arguing, but he wasn’t wrong. “Probably less than five feet. So, as I said, tiny af. So much curly black hair, and it’s long, too. All the way down her back. Light tan. Olive skinned? Is that the right term? I’m going to guess… maybe Latino or Asian. Or Greek? IDK. But I’m assuming she’s mainly white. Nice lips. But it’s her eyes. Holy shit. One is legit blue, and the other is brown, and they’re perfect.”

Next, he questioned, “How are her tits?” I smirked to myself.

“Perfection. Bloody huge. And so is her arse, in the best way possible. Like damn. I’ve never wanted to grab a bum more in my entire life,” I joked.

He replied, “I bet that’s not the only thing you want to do to it.”

“I’m not a creeper!”

“I don’t fucking believe you! Send pictures, you twat,” he responded, making me laugh. “So lonely.” Three crying emojis popped up less than a second later.

“I’ll try. She’s been in the bathroom for a few minutes. Hopefully, I haven’t scared her off with my freakishly massive Frankenstein body.”

Instantly, he sassed, “Frankenstein was the doctor.”

“Fuck off, cunt.”

He sent several middle fingers.

The door closed down the hall, so I exited my search on the computer and brought up a food delivery page. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I pretended to be normal.

Thanks for reading! 💛

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Episode two

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2/27/2022

PE: Free: Locke: Chapter Two

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Chapter One

Chapter Two

Thomas, West’s first name, and I texted back and forth for two weeks. Though we flirted and made jokes, we didn’t talk about our mutual hobby. I didn’t know how to bring it up, even though I gave Harper shit for not just asking him to play. But she had known him for years, and that was a huge difference.

We talked about my stories and his work, but only in the vaguest terms. He showed me his pencil and pen drawings, and I shared pictures of the dozens of small watercolors that lined the walls of my bedroom. And though he was often serious and sometimes formal, I found him funny and charming.

“Where are you today?” I asked one evening. It was late, and we hadn’t chatted during the morning. He had been on a plane for most of the day before.

“Providence.”

I literally knew nothing about Rhode Island. I wasn’t even sure I could point at it on a map without a couple of guesses. “Exciting. Getting to do anything fun while you’re there?” I was hoping he at least had the night off. He had worked for nine days straight.

His response was right away. “I’ve been in a police station for ten hours, with half of that time waiting for a judge to sign something. Someone had to hunt him down on a golf course. My afternoon was beyond thrilling.”

“Why were you there all day?” I wanted to know everything about his work, though he didn’t talk about it much.

“In the case that we’re working on, we ID’d some possible suspects. They were arrested, and, with our help, they interrogated them. It just took some time to get the ball rolling.”

“What’s your job title exactly?” I wasn’t sure if he would even tell me.

“I’m a doctor of behavioral psychology. I work as a profiler in the NCAVC branch, and I am a Special Agent.”

NCAVC. Instead of asking what it meant, I looked it up. National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes. Biting my lip, I tried to think of what to ask next. Curiosity continued to eat at me. Just talking to him was giving me story ideas.

“Wow, that sounds intense. What type of violent crime?” I was pushing my luck. I wasn’t sure if even Harper knew this much. But she probably wasn’t interested, either. All she wanted from him was a good spanking.

“How do you think I know you’re not a serial killer, Valentine?”

“Ah,” I replied, wondering if he meant he investigated literal serial killers or murderers in general. But I realized he wouldn’t answer that. “So, very intense.”

Instantly, the three dots popped up. “Mmm, yeah. A boring day is usually a good one.”

“I can’t imagine having a bad day at your office,” I commented, biting my lip again as I laid back in bed in my pajamas with my phone. I was gnawing at it as my anxiety built.

“Well, sometimes, when we do, people die. So, I try not to have them if I can help it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said right away. I had walked too far on the thin ice, and I could practically hear it cracking under my feet in the text.

“No, I’m sorry. You were making normal polite conversation, and I made it unnecessarily bleak. I apologize. I was going to ask you something, but I’m not sure you’ll be amiable to it now.”

“No, go ahead. It’s fine,” I sent back with a smile emoji.

“So, I should be coming to Dallas this weekend.” That was two days away. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in playing Saturday night?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. I’d love to.”

“Great. So, if you could, would you send a checklist of yours? I’ll send mine. So we both know what to expect. I want to make sure it goes well for both of us.”

I realized then I didn’t have one for him. It had been far too long since I had played with someone else, and I didn’t actually foresee it happening, even if I enjoyed chatting.

“I don’t suppose you have a link to the same list you filled out? It’ll be easier to compare notes that way,” I asked in a lame attempt to make it seem as if I wasn’t unprepared. I wanted this to happen, and I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t gotten it prepped. A moment later, a blue hyperlink popped up in a message. “Oh, perfect. Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome. I’ve already sent you mine in an email if you’d like to look, but I need to get back to work now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yup. I’ll fill this out, and I’ll read yours. Have a good day,” I replied, hoping he understood the meaning behind it.

“I always sincerely try to. Have a pleasant evening, Valentine.”

When he used my full name, it made my stomach tighten. I decided I needed a drink before I went through his checklist. A strong one. I put on my silky blue robe and pulled my hair up into a ponytail before padding out to the kitchen. Morgan and Ryan were in there, making dinner together. He was standing behind her, his hands on her hips as he pressed himself to her ass as close as possible. She was giggling as he kissed her neck.

Rushing by them, I tried to ignore their scene. I wasn’t in the mood for it. Let them have their romance. I was going to get kinky.

“Hey, Tine. Want some?” She pointed at the pot of noodles with a wooden spoon.

Not looking at her, I began to search through the cabinets. “No, thanks.”

In a soft, worried tone, she inquired, “Are you okay?”

Shaking my head, I went to the next cupboard before I responded, “Yeah. Why?” I knew I had some liquor I could mix with the juice I kept in the fridge.

“You’re acting kind of…”

“Weird,” Ryan mumbled under his breath. She elbowed him hard in the gut. “I didn’t say she was,” he defended himself. “You seem distressed, I mean.”

“I’m just looking for my vodka.”

“Okay.” She laughed nervously. “Um… Why do you need it?”

Finally, I stopped and gazed at them. She wanted an answer, and I knew I had to give her one. “Uh, I have a date Saturday,” I blurted out. That was as good as any reason to be searching for alcohol. It was a lie. It really wasn’t. I was about to have wild sex, but I couldn’t tell them that. My roommate didn’t know about my lifestyle, and I would never bring it up, especially in front of Ryan.

“Oh!” Morgan said in excitement, passing the spoon to him. “Anyone I’ve met?” She started to help me look for the bottle. My answer made my quest somehow more normal.

“No,” I laughed. She knew all of my very few friends.

“How did you meet?”

“Harper. We’ve been talking online for a couple of weeks now.”

Giggling, she was genuinely happy for me. “I didn’t even know you were chatting with someone!” Uninterested in our gossip, Ryan gave the utensil back and muttered that he was going to run to the restroom. Ignoring him, she put it on the edge of the big pot to continue helping me. She moved several cans of tomatoes onto the counter. “What’s his name?”

I considered telling her what it actually was, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that information with her yet. So, I used his pseudonym from his private profile. “West- Weston.” It was his middle name, at least.

Finally, I found the big glass bottle of cheap vodka. It had a fine layer of dust on it, especially around the shoulders. The last time I had any was months before, but I was more of a social drinker.

She put the tins away again. “What does he do?”

Quickly, I washed it. “He works for the FBI.”

“Ooo, a cop!”

I laughed at her enthusiasm, pouring two shots into the tumbler before putting it in the freezer for later. “A doctor, actually.” I had a feeling I wasn’t done with it yet. “A doctor cop, even. He’s a psychologist.”

“Oh, double sexy. I can see why you need a drink now.” She nodded her head, tossing her gorgeous hair over her shoulder. Chuckling, I added the fruit punch. “What are you going to do on your date?”

“I don’t know. He just asked. He had to go back to work.”

Picking up her spoon, she pursed her lips as she thought about her next question. “Hmm. Doctor. Weston. What’s his last name?”

“Locke.” It was actually Key, but it made sense to hide it for the sake of his job. I understood. That was why I used Heart for all my naughty titles.

She tapped the tool on the rim of the pan. “Dr. Locke. Hm… Doctor and Mrs. Locke,” she sounded it out, thinking about it aloud.

“No,” I snorted.

She looked offended by my response. “Why not!?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “I’m already nervous. Stop it.”

“Yeah. Okay, sorry,” she giggled. “So, is he a cop doctor or doctor cop?”

Stopping, I peered at her in confusion. “What’s the difference?”

“Is he a doctor for the cops or-”

“Oh! He’s a doctor who’s an agent. A profiler. He’s not a therapist or whatever.”

Morgan tossed her hair again, her lips curving into a smile. “What does he look like?”

Avoiding her eyes, I got a straw to stir my drink. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any pictures.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why not?”

“Because looks don’t matter!” I couldn’t tell her I had only seen photos of his sexy body, and I didn’t care what his face looked like. I just wanted to lick his abs.

“Mmm,” she hummed. Ryan came into the kitchen, going to his spot behind her as she went to stir their dinner again. “Well, tell me how it goes.”

“I will,” I said too brightly, taking a big gulp of my drink. Ryan’s eyes moved over me once, checking out my robe and bare legs, before his attention turned back to her.

When I returned to my room, I opened up my email to find one from Thomas. I swallowed heavily as my cheeks flushed.

The list was not the biggest I had ever seen, but it was comprehensive. Almost all of our answers lined up, but he was more experienced. I wanted to try everything he liked or loved. And he was skilled in everything I enjoyed, too. Most of our hard limits were the same. We were both voyeurs and exhibitionists into giving and receiving pain and pleasure. I was a switch, and he was a Dom. We both loved spanking, belts, hair pulling, riding crops, and just about every sexual thing you could do.

I drank the whole glass down in one big slurp after I finished reading. Before I started mine, I got another.

“You must like him,” Morgan teased when I returned for the second. She was sprinkling cheese into the now drained pasta with some sort of white sauce covering it.

Nervously, I laughed, “Yeah.”

“That’s nice! You need someone! Maybe we could go on a double date.”

I scoffed. I didn’t mean to. It just came out. Pretending to be normal for two hours with my crush and my hopefully new fuck buddy sounded like torture. Clearing my throat, I shook my head. “No. Like I said- it’s the first date. Don’t make me nervous.”

“You have to think positive! You’re a brilliant woman, and he’d be lucky to have you. You’re super cool.”

“I agree,” I smirked. “Actually, that’s why I don’t want to go on a double date. I’m not that much of a dork,” I quipped. Snorting, Ryan looked away from me. She swatted at him, but he dodged out of the way with a chuckle as he took a sip of his beer.

She pouted. “They’re fun!”

“No, they’re not,” I replied once I finished making my second drink. I didn’t want to sleep with her, so I didn’t have to agree with her.

It wasn’t a hard thing to fill out, just tedious. There were even spots for notes. I wasn’t comfortable enough to make all the dirty jokes I wanted to in them. Yet. The one I sent to Harper years before had been comedy gold.

Then there was the spot for watersports. I made a little face. But he needed to know. “So, sometimes, if I’m really excited, I squirt. I try not to because it’s a mess. I just want to warn you. Once it starts, it’s hard to stop. It’s embarrassing. Sorry.”

It seemed weird I had nothing else to add, but that was all. My skin was a violent shade of red the entire time I wrote it.

When I woke up, there was a message waiting for me. “Thank you for sending me your list so quickly. You didn’t have to rush.”

“It was easy to fill out.”

“Do you have any questions about mine?”

“Not really. It seems pretty straightforward. Harper was right when she said we were compatible. You?”

“Yes.” There was a slight pause. “Why would you be embarrassed about something you do involuntarily?”

Just thinking about what I did in the past made my face turn neon pink, even though I was alone. “I don’t think you understand the mess I’m talking about.”

“Mmm, I bet I can imagine it. Does it not feel good?”

Laughing to myself, I laid on my side. “It feels amazing… in the moment, then horrendous after. Will it bother you?”

“Not in the least. But can I tell you how happy I am you’re not into blood, knives, or fire?”

I laughed again as I looked down at the screen. “I’m just glad you don’t want to spit on me while choking me.”

“Yeah, I feel asphyxiation ruins the experience.”

It was tough not to giggle. I was smiling like an idiot. “There wasn’t a spot for necrophilia. But, just in case, hard limit all the way around.”

“lol, Same.”

“So, still at the police station?” I hoped his night had gone well.

“Actually, I’m on a plane back to Texas. First, a pit-stop in Houston, then I’ll be flying in on Saturday morning.”

“Oh. That’s a shorter flight, at least. I know you’re tired.”

“I am, but I’ll get tomorrow evening off to rest. So…” There was another slight pause. “I’m going to be staying at a hotel in downtown Dallas. Would you like to meet me there? Around six?”

Too eager, I replied instantly. “Sure.”

“I’d like to start as soon as you arrive. There will be no speaking until I tell you and no eye contact. I use the standard red/yellow safewords. Stop, slow down. Does this work, or would you prefer to talk before?”

It was exhilarating to think about meeting up with this almost complete stranger for sex. It was one thing on our lists that lined up. I wasn’t exactly experienced with the art of picking up, well, anyone, but I liked the idea of it. The very concept turned me on. It was the reason I hadn’t asked to see a picture of his face yet. Not knowing made it so much more intense.

“That works for me,” I answered. “Should I wear anything or style my hair a certain way?” I was hungry for his instructions.

“No. It’s completely up to you how you dress. I’m looking forward to seeing what you choose, Valentine.”

A small thrill ran up my spine.

Thanks for reading! 💛

Chapter One

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2/27/2022

PE: Free: Locke: Chapter One

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Chapter Two

Chapter One

“So… Guess what?” Harper spoke excitedly as I met her for dinner one quiet Thursday night at our favorite pizza place in Deep Ellum. She had already gotten me a tall draft Abita strawberry lager, and it was waiting for me on a small paper napkin sprinkled with salt to keep it from sticking to the bottom of the glass. My friend knew me too well. She had also ordered our food.

Pushing my purse to the right side of the booth as I slid in, I asked, “What?”

“I’ve been chatting with FBI Guy a lot lately,” she began with a big grin, taking a sip of her own beer, then wiggled her shoulders.

The ‘FBI Guy’ had been one of her favorite fantasies for a few years. They met when she first came onto the BDSM scene and had played some. It went nowhere, but she wanted it to. In her words, he was super hot. But I had never seen a picture. To be honest, I wasn’t that interested, but it was entertaining to listen to her talk about him.

Smiling, I hummed, “Mmm.” That was all she needed to go on.

“Yeah. He’s been looking for someone new to play with when he’s in town, and I mentioned your name.”

This made me pay attention. Slowly, in surprise, I repeated, “What?”

Harper and I had been friends since college. We figured out we were both into the scene while sharing a dorm during a drunken night of confessions. We played together several times before, but we were into incredibly different things, so it wasn’t a regular occurrence. But it was fun to have someone to talk about it with openly. It helped me to become more secure with myself, my body, and my sexuality. I realized there was nothing wrong with enjoying getting spanked if others did, too.

“I was chatting with him, and some stuff he’s into are things I know you really enjoy. Like sensory play and belts,” she breathed, trying to pretend as if she wasn’t talking about being blindfolded, gagged, then beaten in the middle of Mellow Mushroom.

I adjusted uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t think he’d be interested in me.”

“Why?”

I looked down at my size sixteen self, then back at her- a four. Guys who were into her weren’t usually into me. And I was okay with that. Everyone was different, with distinct tastes. There was a flavor for everybody.

“He’s seen a picture of you. Lots of them, actually. We’re friends on my real Facebook, too. He said if you wanted to chat, send him a request. If you don’t want to play, at least you’ll have a new friend. He’s a really nice guy,” she encouraged with a smile. Shrugging, I bit my lip as I considered it only briefly.

“Who likes to viciously spank tied-up women,” I joked a moment before the pizza arrived. We both grinned awkwardly at the server. When he left, I continued, “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything.”

“I wanna play with him again. I keep hinting-”

Interrupting, I questioned, “Why hint? Why not ask?” Harper shrugged her delicate shoulders, her nose in the air.

Pouting, she waffled her head back and forth. “If he were interested, I would know. He’s not.” She wanted him to go after her, and it annoyed her he didn’t.

I shook my head, then mused in a joking tone, “Wouldn’t it bother you if I played with him?” Taking a long sip of my beer, I toyed with the napkin. “I know you have a crush on him.”

Snorting, she turned pink. “Nah. I’d only be mad if you didn’t tell me about it after.” She giggled as she sprinkled cheese onto the crispy pepperoni and ham pizza we were sharing. “He’s still one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. You should at least think about it.”

Just shrugging again, I let the moment pass.

After dinner and an action movie, I went home to the apartment I shared with my roommate, Morgan. We had lived together for a few years after she answered an ad I put online, and we had become real friends. She was funny, bubbly, outgoing, and gorgeous. She was an actual model. Her long blonde hair and big blue baby doll eyes drew everyone in. Somehow, she looked even better in pictures.

As much as I liked her, I was jealous of her. But not because of her appearance. I might have been a chubby girl, but I knew I had a pretty face and nice breasts. I loved my looks and my curves. The reason I was envious was Doctor Ryan Maxwell, the man with his arm draped around her shoulders as she leaned into him on the couch.

Beautiful and tall, he had inky black hair. Muscular, every angle was sharp to a fine point. There was nothing about him that was soft. He was the son of a wealthy plastic surgeon and was well on his way to becoming one himself. They had been dating for a couple of years, and my instant crush on him had only grown since the first time I met him in my kitchen at two in the morning while he was getting a glass of water in his underwear.

Their eyes flicked towards me and away from the movie they were watching on Netflix. But his gaze went back to the screen after a quarter of a second.

“Hey babe,” she beamed from her spot beside her boyfriend. “How’s Harper?”

“Good. She sends her love. And leftovers. Pizza, if you want it?” I offered her the box, but she shook her head.

“Ryan?” Still not looking away from the movie, he hummed as he sipped his beer. Pointing, she asked, “Would you like some?”

He peered at me and the small brown cardboard container for a second before taking it from my grip. His fingers brushed against mine. “Um… Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Tine.”

“You’re welcome,” I said lightly, annoyed at how giddy it made me. I didn’t want to be a grown woman with a crush. Dammit, I was nearly thirty. I was getting too old for that shit. “Enjoy!”

Hurrying back to my room, I was eager to get away from the couple. Plus, I wanted to change into my pajamas. While I did, I turned on my laptop. The first thing I saw on the screen was a funny BDSM meme my friend posted on her private Facebook account. We both had them. No one wanted to deal with their parents or employers knowing about their perverted hobbies.

I sighed heavily. It had been ages since I played with someone, longer since I dated. It would be nice to have the sex I enjoyed again. There had been too many things going on in my life to focus on that part, and time just sort of slipped away from me. I wasn’t even sure how to start looking anymore.

Before I could change my mind, I PMed Harper, “Okay, what’s his name?”

“West Locke on Facebook,” she messaged right away. She forwarded me a link to his page. There were no pictures of his face, not that I expected there to be. He was in the FBI and probably wanted to keep his job. But there were photos of his body- muscular and firm. His profile picture was of a cropped image of him shirtless and holding a brown leather belt in his powerful hands. She assured me it was him.

Before I could overthink it, I sent him a request. There was no harm in that, I figured. I always needed more friends.

“Anything I should know about him?”

Quickly, she answered, “Hmm… Well, he travels for work, so he’s not in town a lot. He lives out of a suitcase. He doesn’t even have an apartment.”

“That’s got to suck.”

“He loves it. Says he prefers to travel.”

Though we had spoken about him a bunch, the details were mostly sexual. I realized I knew little about him. “What does he do for the FBI?”

“He’s a psychologist of some sort. A profiler. But he can’t really talk about it.”

After getting changed, I sat on the bed with my phone. My Facebook wall was still on my computer. West Locke had accepted my request and sent the message, “Hi there.”

My heart skipped a beat in surprise. “Hey, I’m Tine, Harper’s friend,” I typed hastily, just in case he thought I was some random stranger. My screen name was Ann Heart.

“Yes, I know. Hello! How are you?”

“Good. Yourself?”

The three tiny dots showed up in an instant to indicate he was typing. “Tired. I’ve just gotten off of work, and I’m about to fly home… hopefully. My flight was supposed to leave an hour ago.”

“Oh, no!” Curious, I asked, “Is it raining or…?”

“Yes, it’s storming in D.C. right now. But it seems to be a pleasant night in Dallas,” he casually remarked. I was chatting with a Dom about the weather, and it felt bizarre.

“It is nice. I was just out with Harper, and it was lovely. I love the summer heat, but I’m ready for fall.”

“As am I,” he replied. “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”

Deciding to be sarcastic for the hell of it, I wanted to see how he would answer. “I’m a drug dealer. Is that a problem?”

Typing fast, he demanded, “You’re joking, right?”

“Yeah,” I sent back with an eye-roll emoji. “Of course I am.”

“You know… If you had that kind of attitude with me while you were here, I would’ve had you over my knee already.”

Something in my stomach tingled. I licked the corner of my mouth as I thought about how I wanted to react.

Brassily, I responded, “I was going to tell you what I do, but I think I’d rather be taken over your knee.”

“Actually, I know very well what you do, Valentine. I was just trying to get to know you better and see how you answered.”

With a smile, I asked, “Oh, and what do I do?”

“Besides being bratty, you mean?” Bratty was a good term, and I knew it right away. I was already enjoying this conversation. “You’re a writer.” There was a pause before he added, “Harper speaks of you often.”

“She talks about you a lot, too,” I admitted.

“I enjoy chatting with her. She’s funny and intelligent. And she always speaks highly of you.”

He was rather formal, but I didn’t hate it. “Same. She says you’re a great guy, but I am a brat,” I joked. “I should warn you.”

“I know. I like that.” A shiver tickled the base of my neck, running down my spine. It had been so long since I flirted with anyone that it amazed me I still knew how. “So, though your original reply speaks volumes… Tell me more about yourself. How old are you?”

“29. I’ll turn 30 in about a month. You?”

“33. What do you do for fun? Besides the obvious.”

I wasn’t expecting him to ask that. I had to think about it for a second. “Well, I may pretend it’s torture, but writing is a lot of fun. The research, the planning, the organization… which is the boring stuff. I also like to cook and paint. What are your ‘normal’ hobbies?”

“I love to read and draw. Actually, I have a confession. I’ve read some of your work before, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Harper recommended it.”

I had dozens of books and short stories online- everything from children and teen novels to hardcore smut. They were all published under different names. Though I had written a lot, I wasn’t making much. I was just pulling in thirty thousand a year. It was barely enough, but I knew it was still more than the average author.

“Oh, which?” I could only assume.

“Everything under Ann Heart.” I wasn’t surprised. Those were my perverted titles and where I made most of my money. They were easy to write, and I sometimes pumped out hundreds and thousands of words of it a month. “And all of your Valentine Chase, too.”

That one shocked me. That was the moniker I used for my efforts into more serious dramas. There was a murder mystery and a period piece under that, too. They barely sold a thousand copies each.

“All of them?”

The dots popped back up. “I spend a lot of my life waiting. In airports, on planes, trains, and just in general. I have an overabundance of time to kill. And once I find a writer I like, I have to read everything by them. It’s a habit.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “So, I’m an author you like?”

“One of my favorites now, if I’m honest.”

He was very effectively flirting with me. But I wasn’t certain how seriously to take him, so I decided to test him. “What’s your favorite story of mine?”

“The whodunit under VC. The Rabbit in the Snow. Your attention to detail on the crime scenes was stellar. I appreciated the realism you used when dealing with the criminal aspect. Also, the twist was beautiful. I didn’t catch it until the end that the surgeon was the villain the first time. When I went back again, it was like reading a whole new story. I read it three times in a row, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything else.”

This stunned me. I wasn’t expecting an answer, let alone a lovely and detailed review of his feelings towards the novel that was my personal favorite of my stories. It took two years to write altogether, the longest I had ever worked on a single project. I finished it while I sat by my father’s deathbed.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it! Coming from someone who works with the FBI, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Very much so, though enough of it isn’t quite right to convince me you’re not a serial killer, which is good.”

I giggled. “What did I get wrong? Please, I’m always trying to improve. Maybe you can correct my mistakes.”

“Oh, and how would you like me to?”

“However you prefer. You’re the one with all the experience.” I added, “With the FBI, I mean.”

“Hmm, that’s true. Perhaps I’ll read your wonderful story again and take some notes to give you.”

I bit my lip. “I’d love that.”

We chatted for two hours until they finally called his flight.

Thanks for reading! 💛

Chapter Two

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2/27/2022

PE: Free: Imperfect Pictures: Episode Two

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Read Now

Episode One

Episode Two

It took almost eight hours to travel from Los Angeles to New York. I was flying out of LaGuardia into LAX with a layover in Houston. It was the first time I was stepping foot into my birthplace in a couple of years, but it was only for an hour and a half. That was just long enough to get Whataburger from the restaurant in the terminal. I got a barbecue bacon patty melt with a large onion ring. They didn’t have milkshakes in the airport eateries for some cruel reason, so I settled for a sweet tea and a cinnamon roll to substitute the sugar I was missing and saved them for the flight.

I tried to feel a connection to my old home. It had been so long since I lived there. Was there a yearning to go back to what once was? No. Especially not after I watched a loud, big-haired airline employee yell at an Indian couple that she didn’t speak Spanish. They spoke perfect English with a British accent.

They did have good sweet tea in Texas, though.

It was hard not to feel anxious. I tried to relax on the plane while listening to a book, but my mind wandered away in despair. What if it went horribly? What if he was terrible? My gnawing worry ate at my chest until it gave me heartburn. I chewed my thumbnail throughout the flight, but I didn’t bite my other nails. Somehow, I had finally beaten that dreadful habit. Well, kind of. Most of the time, I was better, but, at least, it was just my right thumb.

I gave the address to the taxi driver once I arrived in L.A., and he commented on it being a fancy part of town. Since Burbank was so close to the studios, I imagined it would be. It seemed utterly gentrified. The stars didn’t want to drive far if they could help it, so they got what they wanted. He tried to chat with me, but I wasn’t in the mood and offered only the shortest answers.

The older man with white hair asked, “What’re you here for?”

“Work,” I replied quietly.

He beamed. “Are you an actress or a model?”

Heat crawled up my neck. “No. A photographer, actually.”

He didn’t stop. “Ah! Are you here to take a celebrity’s picture?”

Not sworn to secrecy, no one told me I couldn’t talk about it, but it wasn’t as if I was putting it on blast on social media. “Yeah. Um… Jules Williams.”

The driver shook his head. “I haven’t heard of him. What does he do?”

“He’s mainly a voice actor.”

“No wonder I don’t know who he is.” His tone dripped with boredom. Thankfully, he didn’t speak anymore after that.

The area was gated with a guard who already knew I was coming. My name was on a list, and they gave me a temporary guest code to get in. The houses varied wildly, some more ornate than others. But they were all expensive, each with its own high walls and gates.

The one we pulled up to was smaller, a single-story ranch-style home with a white brick exterior. It was probably built in the eighties, but it had been remodeled since. The surrounding wall was painted to match. The entrance was open, just waiting for us to come inside.

The cabbie got my suitcase from the trunk for me. Since I only had that and a backpack, I declined further help. Neither were heavy, and I could manage on my own. Quietly, I thanked him before I followed the concrete path to the glossy black door and rang the bell. I was literally shaking.

It opened before my finger was even off the button. Quickly, I drew my hand away as I took a half-step back in surprise.

“Hello! Hi! Come in!” Mr. Williams was exceptionally cheerful as he ushered me into the foyer. Comfortably dressed, he was in a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt. He almost looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. He hadn’t shaved recently, and he appeared so much younger than I expected.

“Um, hi. I’m Asa,” I began as I followed behind. “From Vaudevillian Magazine.”

“Yes! I’ve been expecting you. I’m so excited to meet you,” he announced in a posh Australian accent. He was so much taller and more muscular than his videos portrayed. He seemed downright baby-faced and chubby in some of them, but now his muscles stretched at his sleeves. “I’m Julian. Of course, you know that. You can call me that or Jules,” he babbled. “I don’t mind either. Here, let me take that.” He pulled my luggage from my grip before I could say anything. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying real quick, and we can put this away. Then I was just going to order dinner if you’re hungry.”

My cinnamon roll was gone. “Great. Yeah, I am, but I could use a restroom.”

“Right. There’s one in your room,” he said as he strode down a short hallway. To one side was the living room, kitchen, and dining area. On the other were the bedrooms. There were five doors down the lit corridor, but we stopped at the very first. “This is yours.” He opened it all the way and flicked on the light. The bathroom was directly off the entry, and there were built-in cabinets on the opposite side. The bed was a queen that sat in the corner against a glass wall, the curtains flung open to allow in the sunlight and the view of the peaks that surrounded us. There was a desk and a cushy chair, along with a little dresser, but that was it. It was very simple, but I actually liked it. It was like the nicest hotel… if it was bland. But who needed decorations when you had mountains?

“I’ll give you some privacy so you can get freshened up,” he piped up after a moment of me looking around in silence. “I’ll be in the living room whenever you’re ready,” he declared in a quiet, polite tone that wasn’t at all like the one he used in his videos. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised by the difference, I was. But it was still sumptuous.

“Thanks,” I replied before he shut the door behind him.

I rushed to the toilet as soon as it closed and took that time to let Jack know I had arrived. I hated my nervous stomach so much.

The bathroom was bigger than my kitchen by at least double. It also had more counter space and storage. The shower and bathtub were separate, both big enough for two people to be comfortable. The glass-encased area even had two waterfall shower-heads.

I was so glad I declined the LaQuinta Inn.

Feeling disgusting, the temptation was far too strong not to bathe. My stomach had disliked me all day, and it made me sweat. Also, all airports were revoltingly dirty. Quickly removing my befouled clothes, I stepped into the steamy spray. Each head had incredible pressure, and the water felt magical as it rolled down my back. Rushing to wash my hair and body, I took only ten minutes, but it was absolutely rejuvenating.

I redressed in a clean and comfortable but plain black dress that fell to my knees. It wasn’t fancy, but I often wore it to work. Photographers weren’t supposed to draw attention to themselves but the subject. Brushing my long curls back into a ponytail, I pulled on my knee socks and ballet flats before I went to face him again. Like an idiot, I forgot to bring a hairdryer, so it would just have to be wet.

Julian was sitting on the couch with his legs out fully in front of him with a computer on his lap. The sofa was an impossibly large square he could completely lay down on.

When he saw me, he beamed. “You didn’t have to rush.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for being patient.” Smiling awkwardly, I suddenly didn’t know what to do with myself. I was half wet and talking to a very handsome stranger in a million-dollar McMansion a couple of thousand miles away from home.

Unfazed by my awkwardness, he crawled off of it and brought his laptop with him in a single hand. “I was going to order take-away.” He motioned towards the screen after putting it on the long bar separating the kitchen from the other rooms. There were a few stools around it, but he stood. “What would you like?”

I was taken aback. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting to be asked. “Oh, I don’t know. What are my options?”

He chuckled. “It’s L.A. So pretty much anything you want.”

That really didn’t help. “Why don’t you choose a style?” I offered. “I’m not picky.”

He thought only briefly. “Asian?” He probably had it in mind all along.

“Sure.”

Tapping on a few things, he only glanced back at me once. “Chinese?”

“Sounds great.” In general, I loved food and could find something to eat anywhere. It was my second favorite thing besides photography. Or maybe the third, after music.

Clicking around, he narrowed the search further. He arranged them by the number of reviews, then showed me my options with a wave of his gigantic hand. “These are the top results. Why don’t you pick one?”

I leaned over to look as he pulled out a stool and sat. It brought him closer to my height, but he was still much taller. He was obviously trying to make me feel more comfortable. Sitting beside him, I clicked and read as quickly as possible. Silently, he read along with me over my shoulder. He smelled pleasant... like books, coffee, and something vaguely sweet like cookies. I was so close I could see the stiff hair of his five o’clock shadow poking out on his jaw. I tried not to stare, but his profile was just as perfect in person. He was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he studied his options, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes moved.

I picked a restaurant in the middle of the pack. The first two seemed pricey for not a ton of food, while the third was highly praised for their large portions of orange chicken and lo mein, two of my favorites. Most of the reviews mentioned them.

“I was hoping you’d choose that one,” he happily confessed. “I’ve ordered them a lot, and it’s so good. Do you want to get a bunch of stuff and share it? So we can have a bit of everything.”

He was so relaxed.

“Oh, sure. Sounds great.”

Though I was unsure what I expected, it wasn’t this.

Jules opened the menu and began selecting things. First, pork dumplings, egg drop soup with extra wonton chips, then the house special lo mein and orange chicken with a large side of steamed rice. And beef and broccoli with fried rice. It was so much food. “Okay, what would you like?” Looking it over, I wondered if there was anything different I would prefer, but it was already so much, and the meals came with egg rolls too. There was no way we could eat it all.

“Duck sauce, if they have it. Um, do you have soy sauce?”

“I sure do.” He retrieved a bottle of Kikkoman from his cabinet, then set it in the middle of the counter. “Do you want to order a drink or dessert?”

Glancing at my options, I asked, “Don’t you think that’s enough food?” Since there was no Snapple, I settled for an unsweetened tea, requesting lemon and extra sugar for it.

“I guess,” he spoke almost like a pouting child. It wasn’t mean-spirited but playful. He was trying to be cute.

I laughed a little. “Don’t let me stop you, though. I doubt I can eat as much as you can.”

“No, you’re right. It is a lot. I tend to go overboard with things I like.” Sitting back down on his stool, Julian ordered two Mexican Coca-Colas in glass bottles.

“If you want to split the check, I have cash.”

Waving me off, he immediately went to the payment page. “No, I got this.” Everything was saved for easy ordering, so it was done with lightning speed. Before I could do anything else, it was sent off.

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

“No problem. In fact, while you’re a guest in my home, meals are on me.”

His words shocked me. Swiftly, I shook my head. “That’s unnecessary,” I started explaining, but he stopped me.

“No, no. You’re here because of me, and I was raised to be a gracious host.” He touched his hand to his heart as if he was giving a pledge.

“You don’t have to pay for all of my food to be one.”

He shut his laptop. “I suppose it’s possible, but I can, and I enjoy doing it. I pay for my friends.” A tune played in my head as soon as he spoke.

“And do you take that as a compliment?” I finished the Childish Gambino lyric without thinking about it, almost to the beat. He smiled when he realized I knew the not-so-deep-cut he was referencing and nodded. I liked the song ‘3005’, too.

There was nearly eight-hundred dollars left in cash to use during the trip. If he paid for my meals, I could save most of it and pay bills. I felt a little guilty, but he was right when he said he had the ability. Julian certainly lived in a nicer home than me, that was for damn sure. He wasn’t sleeping on a couch in a rented living room.

Humbly, I finally answered, “I want to argue, but my bank account says to shut up and say thank you.”

“No, it’s cool! You’re very welcome! So, I was going to sit outside and smoke while we waited. Would you care to join me?” Standing, he stretched his long arms above his head. He was lucky he had such a high ceiling because he could easily touch the one back at my apartment. He seemed almost two feet taller than me. Or at least it felt like it from my spot on the stool.

The sun was about to go down over the mountains. Awe-inspiring, the sky was orange and pink with only the faintest wisps of clouds. I could see it through the glass walls, just like in the guest bedroom. But this view came with the gorgeous pool and part of the city lights in the distance.

“Sounds good,” I eventually replied when I realized I had been staring. Julian smiled slightly.

Outside, there was a table with a giant umbrella surrounded by several chairs and a small cushioned loveseat with a coffee table. On it, there was an ashtray and a couple of lighters. He plucked a silver box from his pocket and pulled out a perfectly rolled cigarette-type object- filter and all. Instantly, I could smell weed.

“Would you like some?” He inquired after taking a long drag while still standing. The smoke coiled from his lips and nose, the joint pinched between his fingers as he offered it to me.

“No, thank you,” I politely declined.

Panic filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first if it bothered you.” He went to put it out, but I stopped him by placing my hand on his before he could smash it into the ashtray.

“No. It doesn’t. I smoke at home sometimes. I just don’t want to be unprofessional right now. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, so I don’t want to screw it up,” I explained. “I shouldn’t indulge.”

“You’re not working until tomorrow.” Slowly, he nodded. “But I understand. Let me know if you change your mind.” He took another long drag as he sat under the shade. I was on the opposite side of the table, looking out at the beautiful sunset.

“How’s the pot here?”

“Strong,” he admitted. “But I just started smoking this year, so I’m not confident how it compares. I’ve been using it for my anxiety and insomnia because my doctor recommended it,” he mused after he blew out his hit.

Sometimes, I used it for the same reasons. “Does it help?”

Tilting his head, he thought about his answer. “The sleeplessness it does for sure. I’m not certain about the anxiety. It does during, but you can’t be stoned all the time. I rarely partake this early, but Sundays are my day off. It’s helpful when I can’t get my brain to shut off, though.” The smoke curled from his plush pink lips. “So, how was your flight?” All of a sudden, I noticed I had been staring at his mouth for too long.

“Luckily uneventful,” I replied, but I didn’t want to talk about myself, feeling timid. “Your home is gorgeous.”

His smile was genuine. “Thank you. I just moved in six months ago. Honestly, I don’t really have enough things to fill it yet, but I only had a small flat before in Sydney, and I was sharing it with my best mate, Spencer.”

I looked down at my hands. “Well, I can’t judge you for it. I own very little, and I share an apartment with my best friend, too. I have the living room, and she has the bedroom.”

He made a concerned face. “Oh.”

Embarrassed, I laughed mostly at myself. “That makes it sound terrible. My room is surprisingly huge and not just by New Yorker standards. I have a bed, desk, couch, shelves, and tons of space. And we have lovely hardwood floors. Our neighborhood is nice and quiet, with lots of families. Plus, you can see the Empire State Building from my window.”

“Wow! Do you live in Manhattan?”

“No,” I giggled. “Not for the price I’m paying. I live on the edge of Sunnyside and Astoria- in Queens. It’s not as unique a boast as it sounds, being able to see a cool structure in New York City, but it still makes me happy.”

Chuckling, he tapped the ashes into the tray with one of his long fingers. “Well, it seems like something to brag about. New York is lovely. Maybe I’ll live there one day. For the summer, anyway.”

I shook my head. “Oh, not for the summer. It’s too muggy, and there isn’t air-conditioning everywhere like in the south. The Big Apple was made for autumn. And spring isn’t bad either. Actually, I love snow, too,” I admitted. “It’s my favorite.”

“It rarely snows in Australia. It happens from time to time, but it’s nothing like I reckon it does there in the winter,” he wistfully commented. “It must be beautiful.”

“Especially around the mountains.” I nodded. “We always go to the Finger Lakes to see the forest and the snow. Sometimes, my roommate and I rent a cabin.”

His smile was warm. “Sounds peaceful.”

“It is,” I grinned in return, thinking about happier times with her. “We like to go up to Maine or Vermont to take pictures, too. Usually just for a weekend. She enjoys taking photos too, but as a hobby.”

“What is there to do in Vermont?”

I thought for a second. “Um... You can... eat cheese and get lost in the woods. There’s probably maple syrup in there somewhere.” I shrugged.

Jules laughed at my answer. “I like the dairy part.”

“The part with the trees isn’t too bad, either. It’s breathtaking right now. The end of October is peak leaves season. You should have seen it on the drive to the airport from my apartment. There was so much beautiful red foliage all along the interstate. I hadn’t been in that direction in ages, and I forgot how lovely it could be, especially at sunrise. And it was foggy, too. Such a perfect serene morning.”

His voice was dreamy when he said, “The way you describe it makes me want to take a flight at daybreak in New York City.”

“If you’re going to travel at dawn in New York, may I suggest the ferry? You can watch it rise behind the Statue of Liberty, and it’s free, too.” It was one of my favorite things to do. “Well, almost. It’s the same as a bus or subway ride.”

Considering his words, his tongue played at the edge of his straight white teeth. “That sounds nice. But I should warn you right now that I am not a morning person. At all. As I said, I’m an insomniac, and I try not to plan anything until the afternoon if I can help it. You know, I should probably send you my schedule for the next week.” He took his cell from his pocket. “What’s your email?”

“Uhhh...” I drew out. “Asa Kind photography at Gmail.”

“We should have each other’s numbers.” Julian put down his half-smoked joint. “Just in case your gate code doesn’t work or whatever.” He handed me his phone with the add contact screen up. I typed it in and passed it back. A moment later, he sent me an emoji-filled text with confetti, a party hat, and a little dancer.

I gave a tiny snort when it popped up. “Got it.”

“Fantastic. By the way, if you ever need to get into the house without me, I’ll give you the passcode. It’s a keyless entry.”

“How fancy. Well, mine has TWO deadbolts and a chain,” I responded in a fake snotty tone, teasing lightly. Grinning, he picked up his smoke again, but when he went to light it, the doorbell rang.

Jules hopped up and ran to go get our meal. We ate at his dinner table, the sky completely dark. As we did, the lights seemed to pop up like stars, but of course, you couldn’t see any real ones.

Around an hour later, I excused myself, but I didn’t go to sleep right away. Instead, I arranged my things for the week because my body was too tightly wound from all the traveling. Studying his itinerary, I knew I wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning. It was incredibly full, ending with him jumping out of a goddamn plane. If I weren’t so tired, it would have been exciting.

I fell asleep before ten.

Thanks for reading!💛

Episode One

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2/27/2022

PE: Free: Imperfect Pictures: Episode One

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Episode Two

Episode One

There was a heatwave hitting New York City. Despite being a week away from autumn, temperatures were reaching just over ninety degrees, and New Yorkers were not handling it well. Every window was open in Josie’s poorly air-conditioned office. The building was old, and it seemed to be a problem for anyone who wasn’t the owner or editor of the paper housed inside. But Vaudevillian Magazine had been there since the early 1920s, and they weren’t about to change anything. Four different fans were going in all directions at full blast, and her desk was littered with a collection of paperweights. Outside, there had been a minor car accident that caused a traffic jam, and every driver within a mile was lying on their horn as if it was their job. There was also shouting in several languages.

Ah, Manhattan.

Patiently, I waited for Josie to arrive. She was an extremely busy woman, or at least it appeared that way whenever I saw her. I had shot for the magazine a dozen times, and I always got my work assignments from her. She was the photography department’s assistant director, and she and her boss selected and arranged all the images. It wasn’t the only publication I worked for occasionally, but I had with them the most. But mainly, I was taking photos of lipstick or high heels, which was fine. I was good at it. And it was easy. But it was hard to break into the business, especially when it was dying.

She burst in with a stack of folders in her arms. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” She was wearing a short navy skirt and a silky cream-colored sleeveless top. Sadly, it was sweat-stained and sticking to her body. Her mousy brown hair was pulled up into an ultra slicked-back bun with loads of hairspray, but her perspiration was making it frazzled at the edges.

“Not a problem. Do you need some help with those?”

It seemed as if she was going to say no, but I stood just as half slid towards the floor. I caught them easily, then put them on her desk in a neat pile. According to the papers, they were already getting ready for their big Christmas year-in-review.

“Thanks. Can I get you anything? Water?”

Once again, I sat. “No, I’m good.”

“Okay. So, I’ve got a job for you.” She placed the rest of the folders onto the desktop before fetching something from the filing cabinet. Her heels clicked loudly against the linoleum.

“Terrific.” I wondered if it was holiday-related. That would be fun.

“It’s different from anything you’ve done for us before,” she explained as she let the air from the fan on top of the drawer hit her face. Her makeup was melting off in literal beads. There was no amount of setting spray for the humidity.

“How so?”

“We’d like you to go to Los Angeles. It’s for our ‘Week in the Life’ photo series. Have you seen it?” Josie sat behind her desk. “We do it a few times a year, usually for our big issues.”

For a moment, I was stunned. “Yeah, I have. You follow celebrities around twenty-four-seven to get intimate pictures of their day-to-day lives, right? Wow. Um, I’m flattered, but can I ask… Why me? I’m not saying no. Just curious?”

In the middle of a long drink of water, she held up a single, perfectly manicured finger, then dabbed her face with a tissue to capture the droplets that slid down her chin. “Actually, he asked for you.”

“Talk about the pronoun game, Jo. Who- Mr. Jones?” I questioned impatiently, referring to her boss, who I only met once in passing. He barely glanced at me, but he was an even busier person.

“No, the personality you’ll be following.”

“What?” In shock, I sat back in the vinyl plastic chair, and it squeaked.

She looked through a file as she spoke, “He’s very specific about who he does interviews with. Very particular. He’s all about controlling his own image, so he asked to look at the photographers we have working for us, and he chose you.”

I was baffled. “Are you sure?” What did they even show him? Lip gloss? A bowl of popcorn I took a picture of once?

“According to his manager, he was very insistent,” she explained. “He said you were the only one he liked, so he’d only do it if it were you. So, here we are.”

“That’s crazy,” I laughed, feeling half-mad myself. I brought my fingertip up to chew before realizing what I was doing and quickly put it down. “Who is it?”

“Jules Williams.”

The name faintly rang a bell. Maybe. Kind of? I wasn’t sure. Sighing, I tried to think of how I knew him, but nothing sprang to mind. But my brain was Swiss cheese when it came to names, people, and faces. “I don’t know. I’m old. Who is he?”

“He’s an Australian actor on the fast track in Hollywood. He started on YouTube, of all places. Now, he’s been in half a dozen triple-A video games and in several award-winning animated movies and television shows. Last year, he won a Grammy, and he recently signed a multi-million dollar contract with Disney.”

I couldn’t imagine his face. “What did he win it for? Is he a singer, too?”

“I don’t think so. It was for an audiobook. Some teen thing I haven’t read. I don’t remember the name.” Rearranging a couple of folders on her desk, she looked for the information but gave up after a moment with a shake of her head. “Not important right now.”

“So, is he primarily a voice actor?”

“Last year, he starred in his first major live-action role. Overall, he was praised for his performance. It got like an eighty-nine on Rotten Tomatoes. He has several projects coming out over the next few months. The crazy thing is that he’s still doing his YouTube videos.”

“I’m surprised he has the time,” I commented. “He must be very into himself.”

She pulled out her phone and brought up the app, then reached over her desk, so I could see the screen. “This is his most-watched one. Check out the view count.”

It had five-hundred-million views. I had seen it on Facebook or some other social media site. That was where I knew him. To be honest, I thought he was a part of BuzzFeed, but I never paid any attention because it was just something to watch on the train.

But hell- even if I posted a million pictures, I would never get one-hundred-million views on all of them combined. I couldn’t imagine the ad revenue he was pulling in. That was why he had the time to make them.

“So, are you interested?”

I didn’t even have to think about it for a hot second. “Yes. How does it work? Money-wise.”

Josie beamed because I agreed so quickly. “So, this is a time-plus-space contract. You’ll get a flat rate per day, and we cover your flight, then we pay per page your pictures are featured.”

“How much?”

“Five-hundred per shooting day, plus two-hundred on your two travel days. Also, we give you a hundred per day for food and expenses in cash so you can keep what you don’t spend. If you’re comfortable with it, Mr. Williams has offered lodging at his home. If not, we can arrange a hotel, but I don’t think it’ll be as nice, and you’ll have to pay for your taxi or rental car.”

A little star-struck by the amount, I answered, “I don’t mind staying at his place.” Barely scraping by, I needed all the cash I could get.

“Great! So, it’s our standard five-hundred per page. Oh, and if they put your photo on the cover, it’s a fifteen-hundred dollar bonus. The spread is usually between seven to twelve pages if we use yours. But we decide after we get your edits, of course,” she clarified quickly.

I wondered how often she explained such things. “So, even if you don’t use them, I get almost four-thousand for a week’s worth of work?” I quietly inquired. “And I get to go to L.A. on your dime?”

“Um... Yeah, basically.”

I smiled so widely I felt as if my face would crack open. “Sign me up, boss!”

“Fantastic! It’s going to be mid-October. Sorry for such short notice, by the way. We had some negotiation issues with his people. I’ve got all the paperwork ready for you, but I’ll need you to come in sometime the week before you fly out to pick up your tickets and the cash. Is that a problem?”

Too overwhelmed, I hollowly responded, “Not at all.”

“Great,” she repeated with a grin. “Asa, I’m glad he picked you. I really enjoy working with you, and I hope this leads to more projects soon. I had to convince Mr. Jones to let me offer it to you.”

Surprised, I gazed at her. She was such a kind woman. “Thank you so much for sticking your neck out for me. When I get paid, I’ll definitely buy you a drink and a full-priced appetizer somewhere.”

Warmly, Josie giggled. “I look forward to it!”

I liked her. We were on the edge of going from work buddies to in-real-life friends.

Thankfully, the crashed cars were gone when I eventually left the office. Pulling out my cell, I did something I typically never did... I placed a call instead of texting.

“Hello?” My best friend answered on the second ring, instantly concerned. She hated telephones as much as I did, and it had probably been a year since we called each other.

“Jack!” I yelled into the microphone. “I got an insane job offer. You’re not going to fucking believe it. Holy shit, I’m so jazzed right now!”

“Oh, my god! What?” Immediately, she was excited for me. She was always the greatest person to tell any good news. She was so incredible at being happy for others. Most people didn’t realize it was a skill.

“I’m flying to L.A. to stay at an actor’s house to take pictures of him for a week. And I’m getting around four grand to do it. Four-fucking-thousand. In Hollywood, baby!”

“Holy shit! That’s amazing!”

“And that’s not even if they purchase the images after. Conservatively, I could sell them another four-thousand in photos. They could buy up to twelve full pages for five-hundred a pop. And there’s the possibility of a cover photo, and that’s an extra fifteen-hundred dollars on top of everything. But I won’t think about that because I can’t count on it. But can you imagine? Oh, Jackie, I’m so excited!”

“What?! You’re going to get so ahead on your bills.”

Feeling flushed, I sucked in a deep breath. “We need to celebrate tonight.”

She laughed, “Well, no shit we do! By the way, who’s the actor?” My bus arrived. She let me borrow her all-you-can-ride MetroCard to get to Manhattan, taking an Uber instead of dealing with the heat and smelly people on the subway.

“Uh...” I drew out as I tried to remember his name, but I was too keyed up. “Some guy called Jules Williams. He’s young and from YouTube.”

“I don’t know him,” she instantly replied.

Shaking my head, I sat down by one of the yellow poles so I could hang onto it. “I know you don’t. You don’t know anyone.” It was pretty much empty, so I spoke freely. “He does a lot of different stuff. Food videos. Games. Apparently, he does life experience pieces, too. You’ve probably seen him and not known it. Like I said, he’s a YouTuber.”

“Why don’t we order dinner and watch his shit tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was eight in the evening when she finally got out of the office. Already in my pajamas, I was waiting for her on my couch. In the previous hours, I worked on edits for an event I did the day before. It was a gender reveal party for some hipster parents in Williamsburg. They seemed nice enough. It was a boy, and the father ugly cried. It was fun, but I had nothing else planned for the year, and it worried me before my meeting.

“I come bearing gifts.” She showed me the six-pack of hard cider she picked up at the bodega at the corner of our building. Jack opened one and brought it to me, placing a greeting kiss on my forehead, then went to put the rest in the fridge. When she returned, she was more comfortably dressed with her own drink of red wine mixed with ice-cold Coke. “I asked a bunch of kids at work if they knew the guy, and they did.”

“Do they like him?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “They said he’s funny but tame. Like, an ordinary person you could show a cool aunt, such as myself.” Resting her head on my shoulder, she took control of my mouse so she could go to one of the half-dozen food ordering sites we used regularly. “Their words, not mine. Someone called him white bread.”

“I hope he’s normal,” I muttered. “I’m staying at his house.”

“I miss couchsurfing,” she complained, thinking about her time in Europe in her twenties. Living with strangers always frightened her less than me.

We ordered from our favorite diner. She purchased her typical breakfast foods- waffles with bananas, Nutella, and strawberries, a side of country ham, and coffee despite it being so late. I got a chopped steak with mashed potatoes. It came with green beans, a salad, and a roll, which was enough for two people. So, of course, as always, I ate it all.

When we finished ordering, Jack clicked on YouTube. I typed in his name, and it brought up his page before I could finish Williams. He had twenty-million subscribers and counting. All of his videos combined had literally billions of views. Jules had hundreds of them, going back half a decade or more. In the early ones, he practically looked like a child and still had a squeaky baby voice and a chubby face. Even those had at least a million.

In the most recent, he had grown into a tall and well-built man with a head full of thick, neatly groomed, almost black hair and a glass-sharp jaw and nose. He had a very nice profile. Also, it appeared as if he had never seen the sun, despite evidence proving otherwise. There were several videos of him surfing. Either he bathed daily in sunscreen, or he was exceptionally pale.

We watched two solid hours of taste testing videos and interesting restaurants before we switched to him trying on terrible Halloween costumes with his friends. We saw all of those. There were at least fifteen of them, in some embarrassing form or fashion. Then we moved to his gamer playlist. Jackie fell asleep on the couch around three in the morning, but I continued to watch until I nodded off around sunrise.

That night, I had one of my nightmares where I lost my camera in some horrible crazy way that could never happen. It woke me up, gasping and grasping at my blankets. I had them a couple of times a week, and they always bothered me.

Over the next three weeks, I watched as many of his videos as I could stand and all of his movies. There were four, but two of them were only brief cameos. I saw a few of his television shows too. The ones on Netflix, anyway. I even listened to the audiobook he earned a Grammy for, ‘The Immortal Dusk.’ It was a supernatural young adult novel, and it was unsurprisingly better than I expected. Generally, I enjoyed his work and could see why he was on the rise. His voice was phenomenal. He could do so many weird things and accents with it. But when he was just speaking naturally, it was soothing, both very rich and deep.

As time ticked closer, my stomach twisted in knots, and I had a nightmare every day for a week leading up to the job. I tried to keep my mind busy with work, but it didn’t seem to help. I didn’t sleep at all the night before my flight. Lying across my sofa in the darkness, I stared at the Manhattan skyline as I had done a thousand times before when I couldn’t relax. But at least it was better than having the dream again.

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