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her ears, laughing. “Because I was, like, wow, too!”

Sally blushed.

Ainsley leaned forward again.

“Actually, thank you for telling me. Especially since…”

Sally quirked an eyebrow.

“Especially since…?”

Ainsley bit her lip and smiled.

“Especially since I’ve been giving you fuck me signals since we sat down. You could have kept me in the dark about you and Amy and after we were done here, we could have ended up at my place sharing a lot more than margaritas.”

Chapter 17

Back in Carlsbad, Amy was at her apartment sitting on the floor of her living room, laptop on her lap, working on notes for her next episode of Lesbeing—the Podcast. This next show was going to be a discussion about depictions of lesbians in period dramas with particular focus on why such films tend to always have tragic endings for the main characters. Amy loved period dramas. Amy especially loved period dramas with lesbians in them. But she was growing impatient with filmmakers for not ever providing happy endings. Wasn’t the world shitty enough?

She had already lined up a pair of really cool guests for the episode. One was a film archivist at a LGBTQ museum in New York City; the other was an up-and-coming young gay actress who had recently starred in an indie period piece about two lesbians in the eighteenth-century whose story—surprise, surprise—ends tragically.

After returning home from Sally’s, Amy had taken a nap. It had been a long night, after all. She had ended up sleeping well for a couple of hours but had woken up absolutely soaked between her legs, her clit throbbing thanks to the dreams about Sally she’d had. At the time, she was torn between taking care of that urge right then and there or waiting. Tonight, she had another date with Sally and wouldn’t it be fun to let Sally release this climax for her?

But lying there in bed, she had also realized that she had a lot of work to do today: notes for the next podcast episode, responding to fans’ emails and laundry. She knew herself well enough to know that being incredibly horny was always counterproductive and so, after edging herself for a few minutes to really get the engine going, a few swipes of her finger over her clit in her panties was all it took before she was gasping and moaning as a strong orgasm took possession of her core. If things ended up well for her tonight after her date, there would plenty more for Sally to unleash.

Now, she finished writing the notes for the next podcast episode and closed her laptop, standing to stretch her body. The late afternoon sunlight was lying in streaks across her living room floor, filtered through the blinds of the window. Noticing how orange the sunlight was, Amy looked at the clock on the wall next to her flat-screen TV. It showed just past five-thirty. Her date with Sally was at seven. Well, their reservations were at seven; Sally was going to pick her up at six-thirty. They were going to Vigilucci’s, an upscale Italian seafood restaurant on Carlsbad Boulevard. If she hurried, she’d have just enough time to get ready.

Naturally, her phone rang. Instead of being annoyed, however, when Amy saw who it was, she muttered, “Finally!”

Really, what was the point of having a best friend if said best friend wasn’t around to talk to immediately after Amy had slept with a new woman for the first time? But Rachel, a junior realtor at a local agency, had spent the whole day at an open house for one of her listings and thus couldn’t take any time to hear about the sapphic exploits of her best friend.

“I know, I know…” Rachel said as soon as the call connected, “but at least I got three solid offers on the place.”

“Congratulations!” Amy was happy for her friend, who was working hard trying to establish herself in the SoCal real estate market—an incredibly competitive challenge. “I’m putting you on speakerphone because I need to get ready for my date.”

“So, there will be a second date, huh? Spill the beans about last night!”

Amy had to pause then, standing in the hall, halfway between the living room and her bedroom.

All day long, what with lurid recollections of what her and Sally had gotten up to last night, combined with all the work she had had to do, Amy hadn’t actually spent any time considering what she would tell her best friend regarding what she now referred to as the Jillian Ashley Thing.

On the one hand, she trusted Rachel. Moreover, Rachel wasn’t part of the lesfic community and thus wouldn’t really care that Jillian Ashley was in fact a man. Rachel would probably spend all of ten seconds laughing about it and then change the topic.

On the other hand, the Jillian Ashley Thing was a really big secret and even though Amy trusted Rachel, Rachel would nonetheless be another possible vector for the truth to be leaked out, and Amy really did not want this truth to be leaked. The ramifications to her reputation as a podcaster and commentator on all things lesbian would be harsh, sure, but they could possibly be mitigated and perhaps over time would fade. She was more concerned about playing a role in the lesfic community losing the books of Jillian Ashley.

Since Tuesday night, when she released her interview with “Jillian,” Amy had been shocked at the response. Every day since then, her email inbox, her Twitter account, her Facebook page and her website had been flooded with messages from readers from all over the world—even that one lesbian in Liechtenstein. Many of the messages had been standard good job! compliments on how well she conducted the interview.

But the majority of the messages had been from women who had very emotionally explained to Amy how meaningful it had been to actually see and hear their favorite writer talking about her books, books that meant so much to them!

Amy had no idea how this guy Max had done it, but he—a man!—had somehow created a body of lesfic works which were super important to so many gay women. She really needed to meet this guy!

Now, though, she decided to keep Rachel in the dark. Well, in the dark about the Jillian Ashley Thing; not in the dark about what happened last night.

“Oh my god!” Rachel exclaimed a few minutes later, while Amy started getting ready in her bedroom for Sally’s arrival. “You slut! On the beach? But you never have sex on the first date! Even in a bedroom!”

“I know!” Amy agreed. “But, Rach, it was bam! I just wanted her!”

“And it sounds like she wanted you, too!”