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“Bite me.”

***

After work that evening, Rachel came over to Amy’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food to be delivered and while waiting for it to arrive sat together on the sofa, each with a glass of white wine.

“Do you think I have time to get my boobs done before I meet her?” she asked her best friend while they waited, peeking down her own shirt at her small breasts which were currently without a bra.

Rachel looked at Amy.

“By Friday night? Probably, but I’m not sure you’ll like how they turn out.”

“Aargh!”

“Sweetie, calm down,” Rachel said.

“Calm down? You haven’t seen this woman!” Amy exclaimed.

“I have too!” Rachel retorted. “I watched your interview with her! In fact, I’ve s

een her in the exact same way you’ve seen her: on a laptop screen, from the shoulders up!”

Amy had to concede that was true.

“Isn’t she pretty?” she asked, smiling secretly to herself.

“She’s gorgeous!” Rachel affirmed. “Like, I’d be gay for her.”

“Well, too bad because I’m going to be gay for her.”

“She seems nice, too.”

“Doesn’t she?” Amy then had an alarming thought. “I hope she isn’t, like, an ogre in real life, though. Like, I hope her niceness wasn’t an act just because she was being interviewed.”

What if that were true? Amy wondered now. What if the sweet, polite, somewhat shy woman she talked to yesterday and who had made her insides feel liquid, turned out to be a Grade-A ice queen? It would ruin reading Jillian Ashley books for Amy forever!

What was it that somebody once said?

Never meet your heroes.

Tapping Amy’s knee comfortingly, Rachel assured her that she was certain Jillian would be just as nice in person.

“I’m also sure she’ll like your boobs,” she added.

All day long, Amy had been on a high. Not only did she have an upcoming date with Jillian Ashley, who had to be the most beautiful lesfic author on the planet, but thanks to her interview with Jillian, Lesbeing—the Podcast was even more popular than ever. Subscriber numbers had been climbing all day and the hits on her website had been astronomical. What’s more, other lesbian podcast hosts—with the exception of Rhonda Sour Grapes Kessing—had written to Amy, asking her to appear on their podcasts to relate the story of how she managed to get Jillian to come out of her shell.

Work had even gone well today. One of the San Diego County supervisors had agreed to a meeting with Amy and Makeda, the director of the North County Women’s Rights Group, to discuss upcoming debates on proposed legislation that would write equal rights for women into the County’s constitution. All in all, it had been a great day.

Their Chinese food arrived and while they ate, Rachel lamented about her own dating woes with men. The last guy she had gone on a date with had not been seated for five minutes in the outdoor bar Rachel had met him at before he started talking about how the 2020 election had been rigged and stolen from the Republicans. Before a server had even approached their table to take their drinks order, Rachel had got up and left.

“You should come over to our side,” Amy said around a mouthful of kung pao chicken.

“I’m sure there are some stupid lesbians, too,” Rachel reproached.

“Oh, lots of them! But at least they have boobs!”

Chapter 10

On Wednesday evening, Sally finally felt human enough to leave her darkened bedroom at a little past five. She was famished but otherwise feeling terrific.