Greta paused. She didn’t want to offend Lee, but she wasn’t particularly interested in small talk. Her desire to get to know the women she bedded was typically nonexistent.
Marie:How recent is your photo?
Lee:Ha! Last month.
The little dots that indicated she was typing appeared then, so Greta waited. After a moment, a jpeg showed up. Greta enlarged it, and a candid selfie of Lee filled her screen. She sat in an office cubicle, dressed in a button-up that was rolled to the elbows. A pair of glasses rested on a stack of papers in front of her. For a moment, Greta wanted to know what was on the papers, where she was, what she did, but that sort of curiosity led to an awkward degree of intimacy. Since her fiancée had cheated on her a couple of years ago, Greta didn’t do intimacy. Ever. She was over Tasha, but that wasn’t the same as being unscarred.
Lee:That’s right now.
Marie:Let’s meet.
Lee:About to leave work. Tell me where you want me.
Between my legs,Greta thought, but she wasn’t ready to be quitethatovert. In theory the app was secure, but careers had been ruinedoften enough for lesser things. So until she knew Lee better, she was going to be a little bit cautious. Instead she sent the address of the hotel she’d booked.
Marie:I’ll be in the lobby. Blue pencil skirt and blazer.
Lee:Show me.
After a surreptitious glance around, Greta extended her arm, leaned forward, and aimed her phone camera at her chest. She wasn’t adding a clear photo of her face, even now. She added the photo to a message and sent it.
Lee:I’ll message when I’m there.
With a hopeful bounce in her step, Greta slipped her phone into her bag and went toward the exit. The clatter of her footsteps on the tile made more than a few people glance her way. She had an intentionally sharp staccato walk she’d crafted. Greta had learned to move at the pace of taller people, and she elevated her height three to four inches with heels. The combination meant that her approach was often noticeable—and she liked that. There was something innately satisfying about the interested and hungry gazes on several women’s faces, and she could overlook the businessmen. They simply weren’t her type. Her type was bold like them, well-dressed like them, but deliciously female.
Like Lee.
Impatience filled her as she stepped outside to grab a cab.Hotel, freshen, meet a gorgeous woman.It was the best sort of evening Greta could imagine. All the release and none of the entanglements.
2Kaelee
Kaelee hadn’t been planning on meeting anyone tonight.
She had just finished reading hersecondbook one last time before sending the digital file to Emily. Even though the contract was for two books, Kaelee had developed a humiliating case of cold feet.What if it’s awful?That second book wasn’t anywhere near due yet, but she was afraid it would be so horrible that she would need extra time to start over. Kaelee didn’t want to admit to her editor that she had a complete draft already, but she wanted an outside opinion. So she wrote to her agent.
Dear Emily,
I know books don’t write this fast! However, this one is ready, I think. Because it was so fast, can you please give it a read to let me know if it’s okay to send to Ms. Clayborne? (Reminder: It’s due in January.)
K.C.
Her sequel had spilled onto the paper like Kaelee was just an intermediary taking dictation. The thought of slipping and telling her editor that the sequel was written before Emily read it was mortifying. So now Kaelee had to tell her editor to piss off about meetingin person, lie, or try not to blurt it out if she met her. Every option sounded terrible. So far, she’d managed to seem calm and possibly even reserved in exchanges with her editor. To do that, she had refused phone calls and edited her emails to sound direct and focused.
“Control the narrative” had been a bit of business advice that she’d kept as gospel. Right next to it was “keep a written record.” The third law, of course, was the hardest for her sometimes. “Only one person can know if you want to keep a secret.” Despite all the flaws in the Alden family, the media, financial planning, and business training sessions she’d had to take even in her teen years were still useful.
With that training, she had managed her trust fund, completed two degrees, and was well into a third.I need to figure out if I want to finish the PhD or see if I can get a master’s in lit or an MFA.Her book deal earlier that year had required both revision of her life plan and facing her actual goals. The general mix of success and feeling like a raging imposter both as an academic and as a writer had left Kaelee a mess of anxiety. She’d considered getting a short-term prescription for anxiety medicine, but instead, she opted to hit the gym harder than she probably should. The only good news was that, luckily, Emily was used to working with Toni, who was a barrel of difficulty. Emily really was the perfect agent for Kaelee.
And yet I am still thoroughly terrified of fucking it all up.
The thought of real live people reading her sexy lesbian fantasy romance novel—a genre that was currently called “romantasy” according to Emily—made Kaelee feel anxious, which made her plan to head to the gym for the second time today.
… until Marie connected with her.
Now Kaelee had other plans for tackling her excess energy. Sex with the curvy little femme on the app was probably better for her body than another day of overexercising, and it would still ease her stress. Marie was dainty and curvy. That much was obvious in thepictures. Something about delicate women always made Kaelee’s logic vanish entirely. Fortunately, though, Marie was just passing through town. One night. No risk of running into her later. Those were the best sorts of women. Temporary connections.
Kaelee grabbed her bag, shoved her stack of scribbled-on pages into it, and slung the bag over her shoulder. It was weightier than the essays she often had to grade for professors, but it wasn’t impossibly so. Bag secure, door locked, Kaelee headed to the building exit, pausing to say good night to Stan, one of the cleaning staff.
By the time she’d walked to the far lot where she’d secured a parking pass, Kaelee was feeling almost as confident as she pretended she was. Not quite there, but close.
