0 comments/ 9556 views/ 1 favorites The Editor By: madengineer3 Copyright 2007 by madengineer3 I wish to thank Talynnda11 for kindly editing this story. This story is purely fictional, all participants are of legal age. * "Gabby" Brown was not an overly popular man. He wasn't despised or avoided, he just didn't seem to have anyone who was emotionally close to him. He wasn't a joiner; that is he didn't belong to many, if any, clubs or societies. In fact, when neighbors thought about it they couldn't even tell you what he did for a living; or for that mater if he did anything for a living. Neither could anyone tell you how old he was or where he had come from. You could say that he seemed to be a "nonentity". The funny thing about all of this was that even his most nosy neighbors didn't seem to even notice that they weren't curious about his life. Whereas most people would wonder about a man who didn't have a wife, or significant other; didn't have company or many guests, and didn't seem to have all the little household chores that other people had: nobody thought of any of these things if "Gabby" was the person being discussed. In fact nobody even remembered when "Gabby" first moved into the area, or who had previously lived in his house. For that matter, "Gabby" was almost never discussed. On the other hand; Samantha, or Sam, was known to almost everyone in the area. She was despised by most of the people, ridiculed by others, and scorned by most of the rabid fundamentalists. In this area a large majority of people fell into the class of judgmental, legalistic, and rabid fundamentalists. Sam had been labeled a "loose woman", to use the old expression. Most of these people used the more modern term, slut. Everyone "knew" that Sam slept around. Everyone "knew" that Sam had no morals. Everyone "knew" that she belonged at the bottom of the barrel. Sam, herself, believed much of this as well. After all, could so many people be wrong? And, if they weren't wrong, what was the use of trying? Sam had been raised by parents who had been part of the "hippie" slash "free love" drug culture. She had forcibly been exposed to sex, by her parents and brothers while she was yet at home. Both of her parents were multiple drug users as well as alcoholics. Before she was twenty she had already had more than one abortion due to her father's incestuous desires.. Sam "knew" that most people thought she was trash. On the other hand there were the children of the Drake family. Pastor Drake was the local legalistic fundamentalist pastor. The Drake children were looked at as being pure, wholesome, all American kids. John Drake, the oldest of the children was a junior in a college a hundred miles away. John was an mathematics major with a physics minor. He had played sports and been a founding member of his high school's chess club and class valedictorian. In college as well as in high school John was popular with many of his classmates. But John had a big secret problem. John was absolutely sure that he should have been Jane! He was a young woman trapped in a young man's body. With his strict upbringing, John could hardly admit to himself that he had a cross-gender problem. He didn't want to be this way; it simply was the way that he was put together. It wasn't until his junior year in college that he "found out about" transsexuals. There was a fancy junior year ball and it was socially expected that all the juniors would attend. John had little desire to go, but the social pressure was great. At almost the last minute a classmate, Mandy, had asked him to be her escort. Mandy was a physics major with a math minor, the mirror image of John's course of study. They had been in many classes together and had been lab partners in many courses. They got along well. They played chess together and discussed the college and world situation. John was comfortable around Mandy, which, to John, was surprising. John decided that taking Mandy to the dance was the "easiest way out" of his current situation. The dance had been a great success. Mandy had talked John into walking her back to her apartment. Unlike most students, Mandy had no roommate. John was reluctant, at first, but then agreed to go with her. When they got there she invited him in for a late night snack of pizza and soda. John agreed, after all this wasn't a romantic date. When they got into Mandy's apartment she put the pizza in the oven and told John she was going to get into more comfortable clothes. A few minutes later Mandy returned wearing a thin tee shirt and short shorts. Mandy asked John if he considered her to be a close friend. John indicated that she was probably his closest friend. Mandy then asked him a very serious question; "Since you are my closest friend there are some things I should tell you, but before I do I need your solemn promise that you will never divulge what I'm about to tell you. Can you do that?" "Yeah, since it is you I guess I can." "This could alter the way you look at me, and I don't want to hurt our good working relationship. It's just that keeping this secret is eating me up inside." John replied "There isn't much that you could say that would keep us from being friends." "John, I've been watching you since we were freshmen together. I have been suspicious that we share the same problem. I was born as Manny Dixon, but the soul and spirit that were put into my body required me to shift my name to Mandy. I'm a pre-operative transsexual. Does that shock you?" John sat there and tears started to roll down his face. For several minutes he couldn't speak. During this time Mandy was looking on with deep concern. Finally John reached the point where he could speak again. "Mandy, you have no idea how much your honesty means to me. No idea. I was brought up in a home where such things were never discussed. Please tell me more." The evening didn't continue much further before John asked Mandy to keep a secret. Mandy agreed, but had a somewhat knowing smile on her face. "Mandy, my name is John but I should have been born Jane. I have the same problem but have no idea how to resolve it. It's tearing me apart. If I tell my folks, my parents will disown me and pretend I was never born. To them God never allows mistakes like this to happen. They will look at this a moral problem, not what we know it is. What do I do?" The discussion carried on for most of the night. It was decided that their senior year John would room with Mandy and start letting friends at college know that he was Jane. John also started the hormone treatments and other steps toward physically being Jane. He also went before the local judge and had his legal name changed to Jane Drake. After all, most college towns and college campuses are a lot more accepting than many small towns. John informed his parents that since he had an extremely heavy work load his senior year that he wouldn't be coming home until after graduation. This decision postponed the eventual day of reckoning. Everything was going well, until graduation. John had been accepted by most of his classmates as Jane. It was at the graduation that the "effluent hit the impeller". When his parents came to the graduation, they took one look at him, told him that he was no son of theirs, and that he was not to contact them or visit them. They turned around and left. Even though he had expected it, it was still a crushing blow. Jane decided that he had to face his friends back home. Jane had discovered the soothing effects of the responsible, moderate use of alcoholic beverages during her senior year. Mandy had introduced him to responsible drinking. Mandy insisted on coming with Jane on this visit. She had a very good idea of what lay ahead of Jane. Jane's homecoming was, to put it mildly, cold and hard. Most of her/his friends had no use for him as a her. They couldn't understand how he could do this to his parents. Jane and Mandy, had wisely decided to stay in the town's hotel during this visit. It was in the hotel's bar that Sam walked over to his table. Jane and Mandy were sitting there commiserating. "Is that you, John?" "Yeah, Sam, it is. My name is now Jane and this is my friend Mandy. Does my change shock you? Are you going to get all high and mighty with me too?" "No, I heard how people had been treating you and thought you might like some non-judgmental company. Can I buy you and Mandy a drink?" "We would appreciate it, but I should be buying for you." "Why do you say that? After all, among us girls we seldom decide that we have to buy each other a drink. What do you like to drink?" "An Old Fashioned cocktail would taste very good right now. " "And you, Mandy?" "A rusty nail, thank you." "Stay where you are, I'll be right back." Sam returned with the drinks and looked thoughtfully at Jane. "I suspect that you now feel a little like I have for most of my life. Everyone 'knows' I sleep around, 'knows' I must do drugs, 'knows' I must get my money by being a prostitute or such, 'knows' ......,'knows', and........'knows'! And yet, truth be known, I haven't done any of those things." I was physically and sexually abused at home and still haven't gotten over the physical and emotional pain. I had to have two abortions, due to my father raping me. It is hard to be falsely accused. I think I can understand the hurt that you have right now. If possible I would like to help you through your pain. Having a person to talk to can help." "I really appreciate that Sam. Mandy has been very supportive, but seeing support from someone who used to know me as John really helps. What do you do for a living, and where do you live?" "Part of what I am going to tell you is off the record. Only one person in town knows some of these details. My parents and brother died in a car crash four years ago. My father didn't have a will so the state decided how the assets of my father's estate should be divided. As you know, we only have a justice of the peace here, to get to a real judge you need to go to the county seat. Since I am the only living relative I got all of the assets. Now, my father wasn't rich but he worked for a company that provided their employees with excellent life insurance. That insurance included a double indemnity clause for an accidental death. He also had purchased three of the cheap, accidental death only, insurance policies. All told he was covered to the tune of about a million dollars. I sold the family house and land since it held too many bad memories for me. I knew that I would probably never again have anywhere near that money so I decided to invest it. Do you remember old man Milton?" "Yeah, he owns this Hotel doesn't he?" "He used to own this Hotel and everyone around here thinks that he still does. This town is far enough off the beaten path that the old man Milton knew that the hotel was unlikely to ever be a really big profit maker. He had some health problems and wanted to retire someplace warm, and wanted to do it quickly. I offered him seven-hundred-thousand, in cash, for the hotel. I told him I wanted to keep the transfer of the property quiet. We had the property transferred and I handed him the cash in the county clerk's office. He took it. I now run the only hotel in town. Folks around here assume I simply live here. The management of the hotel is handled by means of a lawyer who lives in the county seat. He has strict instructions to not answer any questions regarding the ownership of the hotel." "Good for you Sam. Thanks for understanding my problem. I have one big problem that I don't think can be solved! My parents won't allow me to retrieve any of the things I collected as I grew up. My stamp collection, my good chess board, and all those things that have some meaning to me even now. They won't even talk to me. I can, and have, forgiven them for how they have acted. I'm just very hurt by the whole situation." "Jane, I think I may be able to help; or at least know someone who should be able to help. Do you remember "Gabby" Brown, on River street?" "Yeah, I do. He's sort of a strange old duck, isn't he?" "He may be strange, but at heart he is a very kind person with tremendous wisdom. He's probably the smartest person I have ever met. I've talked to him several times over the last few years. He seems to have a way to make things work out well." "Will you introduce us?" "Yes, when do you want to see him?" "As soon as is reasonably possible, and I'd like Mandy to come along." "How about tomorrow morning?" "O.K." "I'll pick you up at your room tomorrow at 8:30am. Are you o.k. with that?" "Yes." Jane and Mandy went to their room to get ready for bed. Jane didn't know what to think. She was frustrated and emotionally down. Mandy spoke up. "O.K. Jane, I know how down you are right now. If you were already fully a woman and had a loving husband, what do you think you would do to help yourself out of the depression that you are in?" "I don't know. I suppose I'd turn on some romantic music and hope that we'd mutually relieve each other's tensions. But, I'm not fully a woman yet and I'm not married." "How about a good substitute? If you were married you'd be making out with a male, probably giving him a shower and then a blow job before making love. I'd be in the same boat. What if we take a shower together and pretend that the other one is our spouse for just tonight? I know we've never done anything like that before, but seeing you down this far I suspect that it would be good medicine." At this suggestion, Jane began to get undressed as did Mandy. When they were fully nude they embraced each other and kissed deeply. After a few minutes of heavy petting, they made their way to the shower and spent the next half hour washing each other. Mandy started the process by washing Jane. She left the washing of her cock until last. After very carefully washing Jane's cock and balls Mandy knelt down and started to give Jane a blow job. Jane stopped her. "Please stop; I want to wash you first, then lets move to the bed where we can pleasure each other at the same time! Is that o.k. with you?" And it was. When they got out of the shower they dried each other off and headed for the bed. Mandy laid down on her back and Jane climbed over her on all fours such that Jane's mouth was at Mandy's cock and Mandy's mouth was directly under Jane's cock. They each started to gently play with the others cock and balls. Mandy started to kiss, suck, and lick Jane's ball sack which really turned Jane on. In turn, Jane did the same for Mandy. The mutual oral masturbation continued for many minutes with each girl becoming more and more aroused. As they were ready to reach their climaxes they switched to using their hands to masturbate the other. They each had an explosive climax. After cleaning each other up, they fell asleep in each other's arms. In fact they slept better than they had in the last month or so. At 8:30 in the morning there was a knock on the door. Sam was there to lead them over to "Gabby" Brown's house. Mandy drove them over in her car. When they got there, and started up the walk, the door was opened and "Gabby" was at the door with a smile on his face. "You are just on time. I have already put on the kettle for tea. Please come in." Sam, Jane, and Mandy entered "Gabby's" house. "Come on into the kitchen, the other rooms are too formal for friends to share problems." "Gabby" led them into a beautifully airy and light filled kitchen. The kettle just started to whistle as they sat down. Moment's later the tea pot with a "tea cozy" around it was steeping the tea. Sam made the introductions and then "Gabby" started to speak. "I know of all your problems. No, Sam didn't tell me. I've known about it for a long time, but there were things that had to happen before the problems could be resolved. Now, Mandy, although you haven't seen me before I have seen you. Do you remember the time when your father and mother suddenly realized that your desire to be a girl wasn't wrong but was simply the desire to be on the outside what you were on the inside?" "Yes, but how...." "In time dear one. In time. Sam, do you remember the time when a total stranger came up to you, called you by your name and told you to hang in there because God had a real reason and purpose for your life? You never saw him again after that." "How did you....." "In time child, in time. "Jane, do you remember the sudden urge you had to go to the dance with Mandy? Do you remember the peace you felt when you were talking with her in her apartment? Mandy, do you remember the sudden realization that you were supposed to ask John to the dance?" Sam, Jane, and Mandy sat there dumbfounded. Finally Mandy feebly asked: "How do you know these things". "Sam, you were never sent to Sunday school, but Jane and Mandy were. They may remember a verse that goes something like this: 'See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always look on the face of God.' You'll find that in verse ten of chapter eighteen of the book of Matthew. There is a special work that you three are a part of. It has reached the point where certain changes are about to take place. My Lord is very unhappy with the legalistic teachings that have led people to forget that we are commanded to love each other, even when we aren't very lovable. People are going to be called back to where they are supposed to be in this little town. You will be instrumental in this change. But you do not have to provide the power to make the change happen." Mandy asked; "who are you?" "A very old messenger, Mandy; a very very old messenger. I'm also a bit of an editor. I can, when directed by the Author, modify how things are and change them into how they should be. Today, I'm the editor. Jane and Mandy, tomorrow you have doctor's appointments with the local gynecologist. You both need pap smears!" "Uh, 'Gabby" we're women on the inside not the outside!" "Gabby" smiled at this. "Sam, please show June, and Mandy into my bathroom and help them do a quick inspection please." They made the short trip to the bathroom. There was absolute silence. Then the door opened and three very pale looking young women came out of the bathroom. Jane spoke; "What happened "Gabby"? We had male genitals this morning but our bodies are now absolutely female! This can't happen,........ can it?" "Gabby" smiled as he poured the tea. "You forgot one of the most important messages ever delivered to mankind. What is impossible to man is more than possible if God decides to do it. In this case God used one of his messengers; me. Let me tell you what has happened in the last few moments. Mandy and Jane your original birth certificates have been changed as have the electronic and film copies of them. They say you were born girls. The people who knew you in your home towns now know you were born girls. Jane, in your case your parents do not know you were born a girl but that is a part of the big plan. They will soon know, but they are going to have a very rude awakening." "Oh, by the way, your finger prints, which are on file will prove that you are who you say you are. Pastor Drake is going to be faced with a powerful miracle. There is no evidence that you have ever been anything but a girl. Your high school records and college records have all been changed. The legal name changes you arranged, Mandy and Jane, are not to be found in the legal records. Jane, your father needs to again appreciate that 'All things are possible for God! Contrary to his theology God is still in the miracle business. He just is in it when He knows that it is time.' By the way Jane, your gynecologist is also your father's best friend and head of the board of trustees for your dad's church. He will also sort of remember that the Pastor thinks you are his son and will call him shortly after the pap smear has been done. By this time two days from now you will be reconciled with your family. Your father is going to be very surprised when he walks in your room and finds that all your clothes are girl's clothes and that your sports trophies are for the girls teams. I'm looking foreward to watching his face as he makes that discovery." The Editor CHAPTER 1 The chairman of the Our Times Magazines Inc, Benton Mellows, told the English journalist he'd hired at great expense that she was fired as editor of Oh Really Magazine because instead of reviving flagging sales, the sales figures had dropped at an accelerated rate during her six-month tenure. "You can't do this; I'll sue you," she'd screamed. "You promised everything but delivered practically nothing," Benton said. "Tell her Mal." Malcolm Thymes, the group's chief attorney, intoned, "Your contract expressly says no improvement within six months, no job Miss Manners. Security will see you out, giving you ten minutes to clear your desk." "You couple of elongated faggots," she screamed. "What's a faggot Mal?" "It's an alternative word for firewood in England, possibly." "Leave this room immediately you wretched woman," Benton yawned. "Escort Miss Manners to her desk ladies," Malcolm said to the two arriving security officers. "Ensure she takes only her personal possessions and then allow her to leave via the basement where innocent people on the sidewalk will not hear her screaming bitter invective." "Yes Mr Thymes," said one of the tough-looking security women. Benton looked at his thirty-three year old blond son who had been observing that dismissal standing near the window and taking no part. "That's how it's done son, clinically quick and avoiding defamatory language. What's a faggot?" "It's old use meant a bundle of anything but usually referred to iron bars. Its renaissance has come in England with it being used as slang for homosexual males." "So what are elongated faggots?" "Tall homosexuals dad. You and Mal are both over six feet. She had a good waspish tongue, didn't she?" "Yeah but little else. Is that girl you dated for a while from the Midwest still looking for a senior job on a magazine?" "Possibly but I placed her in PR three months ago." "But that's not what she was looking for? "No but it's a well-paying position and is still basically journalism." "Make her editor of Oh Really." "What?" "Oh come on Fargo, I haven't time to repeat everything twice. Off you go." Fargo Mellows left, shaking his head. His father's eccentricity was a bit of a joke in the publishing world but most would admit it rarely turned out to be askew. This one was, as the saying goes, drawing a long bow. Tess Rimes was only twenty-eight and had been a writer, news editor, social editor and a deputy sub-editor on magazines with fascinating names like Women's Soccer Monthly, Angus Cattle Bulletin and Countrywomen. The biggest circulating magazine she'd worked on averaged 72,000-plus sales. Even with its falling circulation Oh Really was still selling about 300,000 copies a month. Jesus, his father was taking a huge risk. But then Fargo consoled himself that perhaps his father wanted the magazine closed down and believed his son's ex-girlfriend would speed the demise of the magazine. "Oh good one dad, you rotten swine," Fargo grinned. The operations manager asked his PA to get Tess Rimes up to his office for lunch and to make the request via Tess's manager. A minute later Vera called him that Tess would not be back till 1:30. "Then call her direct and tell her she's eating with me to hear something to her advantage." It was almost 2:00 before the very attractive brunette with a sleek figure was seated with Fargo with chicken salad in front of her. She was still apologizing for lateness as he poured the French wine. "Okay, you're sorry. At least you were out working." "Actually I was out chatting up this guy I have my eye on." "You lying bitch... um you are lying?" She giggled and said yes, she'd been coordinating an awards luncheon co-sponsored by their gardening magazine. "I receive you summons and was told not to eat and so I obeyed apart from one drink and one bagel." "Are you ready for this?" "Yeah and it better be worth coming back here. There were some cool looking guys at the function." "I have a new job for you that will require you to work hard and take big risks and it could end in disaster." "Is this an odd way to propose? I thought your father was the only eccentric in the family?" "It's a real job with a salary of $140,000 plus incentives linked to audited circulation increases." "Omigod." "Dad has fired the editor of Oh Really and wants you at the helm. The magazine may close if circulation drops continue." "But I've never..." "Dad sometimes works by intuition. He knew you for three months when you were all over me." "Well that adoration was because you were fucking me." "I can appreciate that. Be warned, dad might think you'll be a total failure and will justify closure with him loosing less face because he would have you to blame." "Which one do you think is closest to the truth?" Fargo ducked for cover. "Can we begin dating again?" Tess looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes I really like your mother and you are okay and I don't have anyone at present." "Excellent reply. I'll give you forty-eight hours to respond to my offer and I promise you if you accept I'll approve all reasonable requests for you to resource your endeavors." "Exactly what does that mean?" "I don't know really. It's the sort of thing dad would say and no one would question him about it." "Well you are not your father." "I'll risk being criticized for pushing money into your campaign to be a winner because I believe in you and want your butt sitting on my knee again." "Is your divorce through yet?" "It's some months away but we are totally settled and the attorneys agree the judge will just rubber stamp it. Maggie has taken the children to live with her parents in LA while she looks for my replacement." "Oh how callous." "That's what divorce does to you. If you don't like it don't marry." "I'd never thought of marrying you." "Don't lie. Now tell me about what you've been doing?" Tess said why bother with crap. "Let's finish here are then you take me down to meet my team on Oh Really." "That's great. Welcome back baby." "Thanks. I suppose you'll want me to move back in with you?" "I am living back home and have sold my love nest. It's best we maintain our distance for a couple of months to avoid criticism reaching the media that you used your cunt to get your huge elevation." "Oh your gorgeous man. You really know how to talk to a girl. Yuck." He said firmly, "Two months." "Yes I agree but if I happen to go soft on someone in the meantime..." "I'll be happy for you," Fargo grinned. He said, "To keep you confused, mom never did really like my wife and consistently reminded me before and during that marriage that I ought to have stuck with you." "Well I was to blame for that breakup Fargo. Sorry." Fargo phoned through to call for a meeting in ten minutes of all eighteen journalists and photographers who worked on the magazine, the production staff being common to all nine magazines. "Right go powder your nose Tess. The bitches will have their knives out for you." They arrived to be met by Mrs Olivia Brandt, the deputy editor. "Hi Fargo... are you serious, Tess is the replacement?" "The decision came from above for me to manage the appointment Olivia. You didn't believe you were in the running did you?" "No I told you before the last two appointments and I'll repeat it again. I'm not the person to tackle the near impossible. Hi Tess, we have met before. You have accepted the editorship I take it?" "Yes." "Listen up everyone. This is our new editor, Tess Rimes from the PR department." The cried responses varied but "Are they mad?" came through rather loudly. "Introduce Tess to everyone Olivia and then I'll say a few words. I return in ten minutes." When Fargo returned he called for order and said, "Tess's appointment has been made at top level so anyone with a beef if invited to resign now. I have made arrangements for termination pay to be available within an hour of any resignation being accepted. This could be the last chance for us all to stop the sales slide that is now resulting in a loss of advertising. If this continues it will be the end of the magazine but with your help we won't allow that to happen. That's why I want you all to stay on and back Tess with her great ideas and instincts to produce mags that will produce reversals to the financial woes of Oh Really. Tess and I believe in Oh Really. Do you?" The response was embarrassingly muted. Fargo had the sense to ignore that. "Right, Tess starts here tomorrow morning. Please show her around Olivia and then let her get back to PR to allow her manager to reassign her work in motion and scheduled stuff. Good luck Tess and continue the fight to turn the tide everyone." There was no applause and Fargo turned and strode out thinking if the mag closed none of those faggots would be offered work on the group's other magazines... and minutes later rescinded that thought as being unprofessional and churlish. That evening Fargo was watching TV News with his parents when an item on Business News stated, "Our Times Group, publisher of the ailing Oh Really magazine today abruptly fired the magazine's highly-acclaimed English editor and immediately replaced Faith Manners with a reputedly highly successful magazine journalist from the Midwest, Miss Tess Rimes. Unfortunately so far we have been unable to produce evidence of Miss Rimes's apparent outstanding career. The executive chairman of Our Times Group, Benton Mellows said in making the appointment he'd picked an accomplished journalist with new ideas and high motivation who'd soon steer Oh Really back to its former position as a leading women's interest magazine." Fargo's mother said, "That was straight PR crap apart from the TV station's comment about being unable to find anything on Tess's background Benton. I'm surprised at you making such a bearish prediction of success with Tess not having been an editor." "My only involvement was to tell Fargo to try Tess in the position. That media release quoting me and not referring it to me was Fargo's creation." "Well I'm excited about Tess being promoted like this and you'll have contact with her most days Fargo." "Yes mother." "Well don't lose her this time round and thank you Benton for bringing those two closer together. Fargo please back her totally to stop that ailing magazine draining away my money and the money of others used to establish it. I never liked the name and was almost a lone voice in saying we didn't require another magazine in our stable." Benton said, "I'm aware Tess was moving cattle on half broken-in horses from the time she was twelve years old and that takes guts and determination. She flew solo at sixteen and qualified for her certificate to gain her private pilot's license at the minimum permissible age and gained master's degrees in English/writing and in communications/print media. She's just a bit light on experience, that's all, but prepare to see her turn her magazine around. My gut feeling about this is huge, no kidding." Juliet said he better be right. "I have no wish being left with trying to save your butt if majority of the board decides to censure you. Closing down a magazine is messy, expensive and damaging to a publisher's reputation." "I've brought her back to you darling and asked Fargo to put all his weight behind her and that can only lead to him putting all his weight on to her once again." "Don't be foul Benton and you stop grinning Fargo. God you men have no class." After dinner one of those guys with no class, Benton, went out to his club to play cards, or so he said. Instead he drove up outside a downtown apartment block and one of the three women from one of those apartments, Stella D'Ambrosi, illustrations editor on Oh Really, ran out and climbed into the car and kissed Benton sexily before buckling in. "Your pregnancy scare gave me quite a scare," he told the 41-year-old. "Yeah well blame me. I'd stopped taking the pill because I was going with you regularly and no one else and thought that with you being your age I'd be safe." "Rude cow," he said. "Just don't take such a stupid risk." "I just missed for a week longer than I ever had... it doesn't always operate almost like clockwork you know." "Yuck I don't wish to know about such things. Are you back on the pill?" "Yes and I'm sorry. I just panicked. I ought to have known pregnancy would have been unlikely in such a short time of stopping my contraception program." "Christ Stella, talk about something else." "Is you dick getting bigger darling, with all the extra work-outs I'm giving it." "Yeah that's the sort of talk a guy wants to hear from his babe," Benton said, driving into the basement car park of a hotel near his club. His wife Juliet had agreed staying overnight at the hotel was the practical solution to avoid driving home when he'd been drinking although a lot more expensive than engaging a limousine service. As soon as they entered the room Benton thrust a hand inside Stella's panties and slid a couple of fingers into her and pulled them out and she sucked those fingers. "What is the report?" he grinned, unzipping and pulling out his dick that was already half erect. "Just how you like it. Sticky with high odor." He laughed and slapped her ass and she pulled off her panties, turned and bent over with her legs apart, indicating she was well trained to please him. In return she'd have a lovely supper and after an early morning session would go to work with an extra five hundred bucks in her handbag. Benton had a short but very thick cock and Stella knew how to assist to keep it in. Benton had taken off his jacket and she reached around with a hand to grab his belt by the buckle to keep them from moving too far apart and she used her other hand to brace herself. He grunted and she sighed with pleasure, she being aware he fucked better than most guys she'd ever had and that included two former husbands. Usually she came twice before he called to her and she'd let go of the belt and turn, drop to her knees and finish him by sucking and then allow him to watch her swallowing. She knew from what he'd said his wife always made him wear a condom because she didn't like any cum on her or in her. "I'm about to fire," he called and after a dozen hearty sucks, Stella pulled hard over the rising edge of the head of his cock and jerked his cock just below where her sliding mouth finished on the upstroke. He groaned and pulled away to finish himself off as he fired into Stella's mouth. He watched the excess drip off her chin and as his panting died smiled and rubbed his cock gently over her face, still dribbling semen, the purpose of which was lost on her. As usual they'd have a whisky and then she'd go on to her back without removing any more clothes because Benton wasn't at all interested in tits or her butt. When they returned from the all-night restaurant and went to bed, Benton asked, "Did your new editor get a reasonable reception?" "Didn't Fargo brief you?" "No," Benton lied. "Well it was rather subdued and that must have embarrassed both Fargo and Tess. You see although we know she's topnotch as a PR person none of us knew anything about her as an editor or even if she had been an editor. Our thinking we had just gotten rid of one dud and were asking was this another? I'm aware it was you who appointed her and I'm not challenging that decision; I'm just telling you how I think everyone on staff sees it." "Do you think she'll succeed?" "I have no idea." "What say I bet you $10,000 Tess will win the battle?" "I think that's rather unlikely simply because the odds are stacked against her and anyway I have no stomach to give away ten grand should you prove to be right." "Okay here's the bet. I wager my ten grand against your one grand that sales of Oh Really will hit at least 380,000 six months from today and still climbing and profitability will be soaring because of big jumps in advertising support." "Oh Really" Stella laughed. "Your ten g's to my one g?" "Yeah." "Okay you're on. Can I talk to anyone about this?" "Okay but with care, only to people you can trust. Just say you went to my office with proofs of my updated photo for our files and we discussed the magazine and we got into making that bet." Benton smiled, knowing the word would spread through the building but more important it would give the team on Oh Really confidence in their new editor, giving Tess a better chance to prove she has what it takes. He wouldn't have to wait long. Three days later Benton's PA told him there was talk that the new editor of Oh Really had a 10,000 to one chance of turning the magazine around. Three weeks later after Benton's monthly screw, Stella gasped when she was handed an oblong box that contained a stunning necklace plus her usual $500 gratuity. * * * On the evening of her appointment as editor, Tess took her two roommates, Eve an air traffic controller and Kristen a business school lecturer in financial strategy, to dinner and when they had their cocktails in hand she broke the news. Until then Eve and Kristen had only been told by the youngest of the trio she'd landed a new job 'out of the blue'. Those two listened, mouths open, for Tess to finish and then Kristen said, "You silly woman; you're boarding a sinking ship." "Not if I can help it." Eve asked, "I wasn't aware you had been an editor?" "I haven't." Kristen and Eve frowned. The professional academic strategist said, "This is only theory... either you possess something unknown to me or you have been recruited as the fall guy, someone to heap the blame on when the board folds the magazine." "That magazine will not fold under my watch." "Brave words darling but please see yourself as a juicy morsel in a pool of sharks and barracuda." "Thank you for that contribution. Eve say something nice to me." "After listening to Kristen I fear for your survival in journalism darling but you are lovely and I'll give you all the help I can." "Oh thank you darling. Now that's the downside. Let me tell you this and then we'll eat. Do you remember going out with a blond guy with a well-built guy with a wide face, the only guy I told you I had ever really liked..." "Yes," said Eve, who read romantic potboilers for relaxation. "Frago someone." "Fargo actually. Well he's director of operations of the company that owns several magazines including Oh Really and he's been instructed by the executive chairman, his father, to back me to the hilt." "Oh no, it will be his mission to plunge in the sword," Kristen said sourly. "That's utter rubbish. He will provide Tess with a tumultuous sex, an affair that she'll never forget, and together they'll win through." "Er something that falls between those two extremes I should think," Tess said dryly, attracting the attention of a waitress. She was glad she'd had that conversation. Following Kristen's dire prediction Tess was now convinced she must lean heavily on Fargo rather than try to fly solo. Fargo had an MBA and a Masters in Media Studies and had worked his way up within the company, his previous role being executive editor, a position now incorporated in his expanded job of director of operations, a position that made him responsible for everything to do with magazine production and marketing. * * * When his father left to go to his club and his mother said she'd watch TV in bed, Fargo said he was going out for a drink and to look for a sociable female he knew. "Well if you don't find one keep away from those professional harlots," his mother said. "You really are so much like your father." The Editor Fargo wondered what that meant. He was going out for a drink while his father had gone out to play cards unless...? Struck with the thought of what his mom was actually suggesting he grinned, having thought his dad had become too old to go whoring. Jesus. He whistled as he strode to his car. Before leaving he called Stefani Holden. "Hi can you come out for a drink?" "Yes Fargo but no time for anything else. In case you've forgotten I work for the newspaper you expect to read in the morning." "That's fine. Let's meet at Brady's Bar that's near your office and where the booths are dark. I can finger you off while I brief you." "You make 'jerk' sound like a chore darling and nothing you can tell me is likely to be of the slightest interest to my news editor... ohmigod the babe called Tess." "Yes right on." "Jesus baby, I'll get a two-hour leave pass and ask for a double column spot on say page five." "Make that all of editorial space on page 5 baby. What I have for you is hot and I'm not talking penis. I have a cute photo. Brady's bar in fifteen minutes." Stefani was a minor-celebrity, known for her ability to break stories that really interested readers compared with most of the stuff news agencies dished out. Although married she was addictively promiscuous, so much so that Fargo would only risk fingering her, not risking going the whole way with her having little idea of the health status of her men, mostly with names she failed to remember next morning. Fenton knew that by giving Tess's story for Stefani to embellish in her inimitable manner, Tess would overnight become someone to watch and if Tess responded well she'd become a minor celebrity herself. Women loved magazine editors... until they put a foot wrong and that's when the long knives would be drawn. Stefani arrived with her tits almost squeezing over her tight top and her skirt hem was practically around her hips, but that was Stefani, no class. "Let's see the picture," she cooed, not bothering to kiss Fargo but ensuring she left her legs wide open. "Oh you sweet, cute honey," Stefani said, kissing the image. "Oh what I'd like to do with you." No fucking way, Fargo thought watching as Stefani pulled off her panties and placed them in her handbag, ignoring the waitress arriving with her drink and another beer from her companion. Stefani pulled his hand on to her vulva and he was underway, including with his briefing. "Oh this is unbelievable," Stefani practically wheezed. "You guys fire an acclaimed but under-performing editor and replace her with this sexy chick on a major magazine, her first editorship and she's not even been a deputy editor and you admit that eighteen months ago she was your mistress and that indiscretion led to her leaving you when your wife caught you two together, your attempted reconciliation with your wife failed and she began divorced proceedings. Holy shit." "You have to believe this Stef, Tess is a romantic." Although she had her electronic voice recorder going Stefani scribbled down that last comment. "Fargo I know this is like telling you how to suck eggs but this appointment screams of being a total disaster." "Oh yeah. Appointing Tess wasn't my idea. Dad ordered me to do it." "What?" "I said..." "I heard. Jesus, that makes a huge difference. Your father is acknowledged as having extraordinary perception when it comes to predicting outcomes. He's made so many perceptive decisions that has proven him right in going against mainstream that he's come something of a legend," Stefani said and gasped and came very wetly over Fargo's fingers. "My mother is usually too conservative in backing dad's extreme decisions but she's with him all the way on this one." "Oh fuck Fargo, I've just had my biggest climax for possibly a couple of years but it's difficult to remember that sort of thing but this story, oh you darling boy. I'll sit on your lap and you can give it to me up my butt." Avoiding puking, Fargo smiled. "Some other time. You run off and write your story. You will be rewarded with jewelry Stef if you create a big wave of interest in the renaissance of Oh Really. Stefani wrote down the last few words of that final comment, kissed Fargo and raced off without putting on her panties. Fargo grinned, finished his beer and began leaving for home very happy but the waitress intercepted him. "Hi Mr Mellows. You are our occasional guest lecturer on magazine journalism. I noticed you date rush off. I finish here in fifteen minutes. May I give you another beer and ask you to take me somewhere quiet? Obviously Miss Holden is not delivering for you this night. I promise to be utterly discreet but warn one day I could come asking for a job..." Fargo returned to the table for a complimentary beer. CHAPTER 2 Kristen came into Tess's bedroom holding up their morning newspaper yelling, "You're a celebrity and yet you only begin your new job this morning." Brushing her hair, Tess said. "What on earth are you on about." "Eve woke me to read this when she was rushing off for her 7:00 start. Look a small picture of you is on the front page and all the caption says is, 'Tess Rimes, hired to lead renaissance. Turn to Page 5'. "The story says you have no big magazine experience and have never been an editor." "Oh god, Fargo. I'll kill him." "Darling I suggest you read it first. My reading of this is you have been cruelly exposed and many readers will now be interested in seeing you become a star." "D-do y-you think so?" "Absolutely. Come out for breakfast and I'll read the story to you aloud while you imagine yourself as someone who doesn't know you. Then at the finish make your judgment." Swimming in emotions all Tess could manage when Kristen finished reading was, "You may be right." "I know I'm right. Keep calm when dealing with the media." "What media?" "Oh darling, you still haven't completely gravitated from Midwest thinking have you? Have a nice day." Tess lived closed enough to walk to Our Times Tower, most of which was let out. She saw a small bunch of people including two TV crews waiting outside the entrance. Ah so that was what clever Kristen had been on about. She thought about trying to enter via the basement parking entrance but thought why waste an opportunity that clever Fargo had created. "Here comes Tess," someone shouted and the media people converged to circle her. "Okay I'll talk, but no insulting questions please but first I wish to stand alongside the logo and name of my publishing house." The questions continued relentlessly. During this casual media conference Tess was too busy to notice Benton drive into the parking entrance and grinning from ear to ear. Some of the questions were highly personal but most were easy to answer: Had she recommenced her affair with Fargo Mellows? No. Would she reconsider recommencing? Perhaps. Who was her current lover? No one was currently was that close to her. Was he true she'd never been an editor? Yes. Well how did she think she could become one now? Because she had talent and had prepared for the role. Had she ever read Oh Really? No. There were gasps but Tess laughed as said she was just testing that everyone was focused. Yes of course she did. It had been in her top three magazines she read regularly but it had slipped in rating and was now bottom of her top ten and she regularly read fifteen to twenty magazines each month. And the questions dragged on for another ten minutes before she called for the final question and was asked did she really think she could return Oh Really to its former eminence. "Of course I can, absolutely. I had been expecting a hard question. The May issue is being prepared for print now; my first issue will be the June issue so reserve judgment on me until the June issue is published. Thank you everyone. It's lovely talking for fellow journalists. Wish me well." Clapping broke out spontaneously and several females called, "Good luck Tess." A representative of the city's highest rating TV station who had been standing some distance away came forward and attempted to book Tess to appear on News that evening, handing her his card. "No Mike, I'm not ready for TV interviews because there's nothing to say. If you are interested I'll promise you an exclusive on the evening my June issue hits the newsstands." "Is that the best you can do?" "Yes Mike, take it or leave it." "We'll accept that offer Tess. I'll write confirming and asking for your confirmation." Tess entered the magazine's reception area on the 15th and Jill Casey, director of HR was waiting for her. In the nearby office Jill congratulated her and handed Tess her Gold Card, handbook on authorized expenses for executives, and keys to her car, a Ford Focus. "I expected something more up-market than that?" "This is the car allocated to editors." "Please call Fargo he's placed undue focus on me and I require a car more fitting to my star status before the bubble bursts." Jill called Fargo and repeated that comment accurately. "Fargo says sarcastically would a leased Mercedes convertible do?" "Tell him no way, I'm a loyal American. A white Ford Fusion Hybrid is my choice." Jill delivered the request and sighed. "He's instructed me to get one pronto." "Thank you Jill... so kind of you. Without you as an effective intermediary, I would have wound up with the Focus." "And now I'll have to deal with the outrage of other editors." "Just tell them you believe I'll be history in six months and so I'm grasping for what I can get in the meantime." "I'm not sure I believe that after just witnessing how you can operate." "Thank you Jill. I suggest you do lie and get them off your back." "Good thinking. Here are your keys to the executive toilets and executive dining room." "Oh no thanks. I'll only eat in the exec dining room by invitation otherwise I'll work and exist as my team does. My choice of vehicle is to maintain a suitable presence outside this building and yet not being overly extravagant. I'm aiming to appease the average woman in the twenty-six to fifty-six age group." "But Oh Really is pitched for the sophisticated women in the thirty to forty age group." "Oh dear, wrong decision. Women under thirty are the Now Generation and women forty-five to fifty-five age group are the real big spenders and with time on their hands to read magazines. Who the fuck did the pre-launch research on Oh Really?" "I have no idea. Consultants I guess. Um we don't use coarse language around here." "Oh thanks for that tip Jill. I only use it to express emotion. Thanks for my induction. The contract appears fine. I'll sign as soon as you can arrange that." "Well we can do that over lunch in the executive dinning room today. Our chief attorney Malcolm Thymes desires to meet you." "Then please make that for tomorrow or whatever but today Jill I eat with my team, or at least those who are available and who wish to associate with me." Jill looked thoughtfully at Tess as she repeated her thanks and left. She picked up the phone and called Fargo. "Hi, you asked for my impression of Tess following her awesome promotion. I think to say Benton has picked a winner will suffice. It has to be either that or be prepared for a sensational failure and something tells me the latter is unlikely if she's given the support she needs. You ought to really talk at length to Olivia." "I have meetings. I'm calling Olivia now to ask her to take you somewhere this afternoon for coffee to brief Olivia about what we expect from her. It will be easy because she will have guessed it will be one of those 'Fly the Flag' conversations that you are famous for dear Jill." "Okay you lazy jerk. I'll do it." * * * Tess entered the newsroom and received some big smiles. Well that was an improvement. Olivia was seated beside the magazine designer. "Hi are you guys working on the June issue?" "Yes ma'am." Everyone was listening. "Christ Chrissy, call me Tess and that goes for everyone. Dump what you're doing and you two come into the meeting room to discuss the new form of our mag, beginning abruptly from the June issue because my reputation hangs on that issue. Progressive change will just not do. Olivia bring with you anyone vital to effecting fundamental change." "But our advertisers..." "Fuck them, well I mean if we thrill them they'll have no complaint. Let's go." A revolt appeared to be building but after Olivia returned from Jill's pep talk she got the team together in small groups and told them straight: "If Tess fails then we'll all be out of a job including Tess." "Jill Casey thinks Tess is a winner but she can't do it alone. I'm backing Tess with every bone and skill I have." "What does Jill know about Tess?" "Her profession is human resources. It's her job to know people and she's had time to read Tess." Each time Olivia said that to each group who'd inevitably asked that same question, there were no other questions or negative comment. The final meeting was in the illustrations department with editor Stella D'Ambrosi, the two photographers and the graphic artist and layout artist. When Olivia had finished Stella announced, "I'm the person set to win ten grand off Mr Mellows if she succeeds or else I pay him a grand if she fails. I've decided I won't accept that payment if she succeeds. Our magazine is too good to perish unless we have exhausted all efforts to pump it back on course, and Tess is the last chance we have. backing her 101%." "Shona get everyone in here. I want Stella to repeat what she's just told us." Tess was in her office, accepting and rejecting editorial for the June issue already written or selected from contributing agencies, and unaware that a short meeting for all available personnel on the magazine was being held until she heard the noise of applause as Stella completed her short speech. Tess smiled and didn't worry that a planned revolt might be underway. She was too busy cutting the heart of the magazine and working to build a more effective new heart. There would be tears and bitterness of people at the thick end of her harsh editing. She hoped they had the backbone to rise above that, accepting such drastic measures were only for the June and July issue for which interviews and research had also commenced. After several small group meetings, beginning with writers, and with Olivia sitting beside her and modifying some of the more radical proposals, Tess gradually got her concept of the look and content of the June issue she wanted. She had lunch in the staff café with ten of her personnel who lunched at that time and was very happy about that. She made no effort to hog the conservation or to use the opportunity to reinforce her hopes and aspirations for the mag. There would be other opportunities for that. That night around midnight Tess wrote a piece for the traditional editor's page she titled, 'A New Editor, New Emphasis'. She began, 'Do you like the new look? I do being a magazine reader used to tedious covers showing yet another pretty face and pages with overly long articles that stretch into boring nothingness. Oh Really is a now a smarter magazine looking to interest smarter readers and I've extended our focus to capture the attention of readers twenty-six to fifty-six knowing that older women will be curious about the interests of the Now Generation younger women and those younger women will share at least some of the interests of the Moneyed Generation.' 'And so we are about Smart Women who don't care a fig about recipes and needlework and that's why those sections have been ditched from this magazine as have columns about 'Home & Family', medical information about warts on you ass or learned discourse about personal hygiene, teeth care, eye car and hearing care. Our smart women readers know how to get that advice from its source or in inferior magazines. Ooops, that was a bit bitchy that who really cares?' 'We are audaciously declaring the Now Generation is anyone in our amended targeted readership age of twenty-six to fifty-six. Young women of twenty-six will be interested to know women of fifty-six (and older) still regularly enjoy sex. Future issues will tell you more secrets like that because older women like to pretend they have no interest in sex... pretend publicly, that is. And what do women twenty-six and a little older think about gay sex and drug dependency and their parents?' 'Our new motto is to tell you... and tell you how it is.' 'We will avoid bullshit, never being overly polite.' 'I believe we have produced a magazine with an edge of difference with this issue. But the only opinions that matter are those from people like you, our readers. Buy a subscription and enjoy future issues. I'm Tess, who heads a great team who believe in making Oh Really better and better. Thanks for reading this far. We love readers like you.' In the days that followed, Tess's team, some of them whom were cynics, were behaving as if there was a guru in their midst. Comments like these were being overheard. "God Tess is so inspirational." "She knows damn all about magazine editing but oh my, do her great ideas flow." "Tess is giving this magazine something that no Internet magazine can replicate...heart." When told of that last comment Tess burst into tears. Near the end of her third week in the editor's chair Tess attending the monthly meeting of editors. She'd met all fellow editors previously through her PR activity. Fargo, who appeared friendly although somewhat distant to her during their business times together, chaired the meeting. She remained disappointed there had been not contact with him and his family. The meeting was one of those gatherings of opposing forces with Fargo appealing to keep costs down and editors appealing for more and better resources. During general discussion time, the fat cow Cynthia Raymond asked was it likely Oh Really would be closed soon and she glanced at Tess with a sneer when Fargo said he didn't believe so. Steve Grant, editor of Male Passions, sitting beside Tess, patted her hand and whispered, "Cynthia can be such a bitch." Tess's heart fluttered so when he said, "What about a quiet drink after this charade?" she nodded and whispered she'd like that. Ninety minutes later they were fucking in Steve's shared apartment, his roommate accepting fifty bucks from Steve and being told to get lost. Tess had for some reason naively thought a quiet drink simply meant a drink away from the crowd and that had sounded rather appealing. But when she returned from the toilet she found Steve with his dick out and stroking it. So what was a girl supposed to do? Tess thought about her reputation and decided to walk way would risk being known as a wimp and so dropped on to her knees and gobbled Steve's offering. "Jesus," he panted. Tess left him next to legless and within days her reputation had soared with the guys spreading the news and the females being told they had best lift their performance because real competition had arrived. Soaring reputation yes, but not one a woman would like her mother to learn about. * * * The June issue of Oh Really went through production in great secrecy and security as if bills of a thousand bucks were being printed. Tess has asked for that and won Fargo's approval. He received the first proof copy off the press at 7:00 on a Tuesday morning and Tess standing beside him took the second. Fargo looked at the cover and winced, but slowly a grin appeared when he realized the toothy grin of some good-looking babe was missing from the front cover. He went to speak to Tess about that but she was already leaving yelling, "Must go. I have only one hour to halt the start of printing or give the okay." The Editor In she office she tossed a third copy to Olivia and they began to quickly scrutinize each page. After forty minutes Olivia said, "Perfect" and closed her copy. Two minutes later after checking the sequential number of pages for the second time, to ensure the 'collect' of sections had been bound in the correct order, Tessa agreed. She called the shift manager of the printing facility. "Yes Tess." "Let her rip Alf. Take care of my first baby." Alf laughed and said right, have a happy day. The guys in the pressroom knew that Tess was the only editor who knew their names and Alf thought she was his little darling. "Right, let's go to breakfast honey," Tess said to Olivia. "We'll sink a half bottle of champagne and then after eating it's back here to go over the final inputs for the July issue and to make binding decisions of the August issue." "Oooh, champagne. You're the best editor I've ever worked with," Olivia smiled expansively. Fargo raced home with three copies and tossed two of them to his parents who were waiting to start breakfast. No one went to the table until twenty minutes later. "What the fuck is this?" Benton had said, staring at the front cover. "It's a masterpiece in creative thinking and cover design you old stick-in-the-mud faggot." "What?" roared her husband. "Calm down. Fargo told me it's the in word to express mild disapproval." "It's slang for a male homosexual you stupid bitch." "Oh have I really misdirected that term," Juliet said, eyes narrowing. "Call me a stupid bitch and you won't even be able to pee out of that dick of yours." "Guys, peace please and thumb through this issue and tell me what you think." Later Benton tossed his copy aside and said, "That Tess has got everything on the button. The entire mag has a fresh look and is screaming out to be read. I like it and you may care to tell her that." "Mother?" "It is brilliant, absolutely brilliant from front cover right through to the back cover although that's an advertisement. What numbers are you printing?" "Three hundred and seventy-five thousand, what used to be our average print." His mother smiled and said, "Oh that's grand." "No enough," said his father. "Start breakfast without me... I need to pee." For once his mother didn't berate Fargo for use of inappropriate language in her house. He called the printing works and spoke to the shift manager whose name he couldn't recall. "Yes Fargo." "I've decided to increase print numbers of this June issue of Oh Really to 400,000." "I'll have to have that in writing." "Of course you will. Just get the paper stock in place. I'll send the requisition change to you as soon as I get to my office within the hour." "As good as done Fargo. Isn't that cute Tess a delightfully young lady, really winsome?" Fargo cut the call without answering. It was that lack of innate grace and indifference that already had reminded Tess she ought not take up with him again. Tess's team at their homes preparing to leave for work would have become excited when watching the male host on the city's most popular Breakfast TV Show hold up a copy of Oh Really magazine, couriered urgently to him by Tess. He asked, "What the heck is this?" pointing to the front cover. His female co-host said, "It's a gold bar on an entirely black cover and is a sign representing greed and desire on one hand, and on the other hand telling women this magazine knows what it's about and what its role is in interesting her as a reader." "You could have fooled me." "Yes well as any intelligent woman would know, this magazine is not meant for fools. Males shouldn't read it." "You..." "Ah-ah," his co-host interjected. "That B-word is one of our banned words on TV." Tess and Olivia were back in the office just in time to catch that interplay on TV. Olivia said, "Oh god, that was brilliant for us. A huge number of women would have been watching that as they would be waiting for the 8:30 news and weather report." "Yeah, possibly a million bucks worth of free promotion. Well I'm off into hiding. Could you please hold the fort and oh, could you get Lenora to email everyone in the company to be watching that TV channel at 6:45 this evening when they'll find what Glen Finch thinks of me and our magazine." "You mean you've got the 15-minute prime spot with just the greatest interviewer ever?" "Less the time for ads darling. Glen might be a handsome hunk but he falls short of being the greatest interviewer ever." "Well everyone has an opinion. Have a lovely day at the beauticians." "Oh thanks you sneaky rat. I've been trying to give the impression I'm an all-natural girl." "Very few of us are Tess. Try to get Glen to date you." A stretched limo called for Tess in plenty of time and Eve and Kristen were allowed to ride with her and they had seats reserved for them in the studio's live audience section. They were required to find their own way home. They arrived and were introduced to Glen Finch who took a double take of his female guest and said lamely, "You look even better than your photo." "Thanks Mr Finch. Take me to supper this evening if you wish." "Excuse me?" "I'm attempting to set up a date. My researcher tells me you are a divorcee and running with no particular women at present." "Well yes but I don't date people I interview." "Oh really Mr French? What my researcher found tells me something different." He looked uneasily at Tess and said to call him Glen. "I would very much like to take you to supper." "Would you require a chaperone? I can become rather sexy if provoked." Kristen and Eve and several other people listening to this exchange focused sharply, waiting for Glen's reply. "No chaperone is required Tess but be warned my resistance can crumple very easily." Everyone laughed and that was that. Glen was led away. The first 15-minute guest was a presidential aide who was slightly interesting. At the end of the interval Glen strode back on stage and turning to the wing said, "Now for my next guest, the dynamic new editor of Oh Really magazine, Miss Tess d'Urbervilles. "I'm here Mr Finch, behind you. I chose to enter from the opposite wing because that's how I am. And actually my name is Tess Rimes spelt with an 'i'. Your expectations of me must have taken a real dive?" This had of course being rehearsed during the break for advertisements and Glen was delighted Tess agreed to play along. He turned to her and said, "Oh look at you. I had the impression editors of women's magazines were more bovine in appearance, having heard them refer to their competitors as old cows." "That's utter nonsense. Most are better looking and possibly of higher intelligence than most of their readers. That's what I'm up against Mr Finch. Now could we get on with it; I'm here for you to make and ass of me in the hope people will buy my magazine." "What magazine is that?" "I've forgotten. I haven't been editor of it very long and this is my first issue." (The audience laughter was huge). "The magazine I have here is called Oh Really. Does that ring a bell?" "Oh yes. A failing magazine and I was brought in at a miserable salary to pump it back up. I think you might ring my bell Mr Finch. Will you date me?" "What tonight?" "Yes, you won't remember me within an hour from now unless it's tonight." "Okay, tonight's fine. Now back to the magazine. Why the gold bar pictured on the front cover instead of the face of a pretty woman, your face for example?" "Oh just to show that edge of different. Are you aware women crave to be adorned in gold?" "My mother doesn't." "Well with few exceptions but I've yet to meet a man who knows what his mother craves for. Guys are just not interested in finding about. But daughters find out." "So will we have more black covers?" "Yes there will be eleven more for a 12-issue series. If I were boastful I'd say they probably will be selected to go into the Magazine Covers Hall of Fame because of their originality but clearly I cannot say that in fear of being boastful." "So what do you fear?" "Only two things really." "Ah I bet one of them is men?" "Yes I share that fear with all women though with me it's not particularly intense." "And the other thing you fear?" "Getting it wrong, for example allowing the word menstruation being published as womenstruation." "Oh please could we talk about something else?" "What do you fear most Mr Finch?" "You just mentioned it. Oh goodness, I feel faint." "I'm delighted to hear that Mr Finch. Men are so callous and lack understanding." (Cheers from females in the audience). "Tess you have removed cooking from your illustrious magazine and articles on house cleaners, women's health and oh yes, dealing with problems with raising teenagers and problems with coping with the oddball ways of grandparents." "Who do you know who buys only one magazine a month Mr Finch? Those profound topics of mass interest appear in other magazines so why should we mindlessly replicate? We regard our hardcore readers as intelligent, articulate and know how to grab a recipe off the Internet if they're not eating out. Their pharmacists can tell them all they want to know about trends in sanitary pads so why should we?" "Oh I feel faint. I need to sit down." "You are sitting down Mr Finch. We must be running out of time. Ask me something that will sell Oh Really magazine." "When will Oh Really magazine be closed down?" "Oh perhaps when you are a patient in a facility for old men suffering incontinence Mr Finch." (Huge laughter) The camera view switched on to Glen Finch. "Well there you are ladies and gentlemen. I'd been waiting for a long time for a interview subject to come forward who looked suitable to ab-lib an off-the cuff encounter with me like what you have just seen. I recognized from the moment I first spoke to her Miss Tess Rimes, the new editor of Oh Really magazine, she had that slight wackiness to succeed in creating that farce and the intelligence to keep it going, because we only had time to rehearse her entrance. I think if you read her editorial in the June issue of Oh Really that began circulating today you will be confident when she says she aims to create that edge of difference because she packs the talent to achieve that. It has been a fantastic honor to have you on my show Miss Tess Rimes. You are invited to have the last few words." "May I kiss you?" "You certainly can. Goodnight everyone." The credits rolled with Glen and Tess shown in center screen kissing reasonably chastely. Then slowly she lifted her right foot, bending from the knee. The audience's clapping increased in volume and tempo. The reaction in the Mellow's household was interesting. Juliet: One would have to think that young woman was born on the stage. She was wonderful and had Glen Finch absolutely stretched to keep up with her. They did brilliantly and I think enough about the magazine was worked in to make that appearance very valuable for us. Benton: You know I'd forgotten just how brilliant TV is for a bit of slapstick. Those two did brilliantly. Yes I agree with you Juliet. That produced a valuable result for us but not as much as a straight interview may have. Fargo: I had forgotten just how lovely Tess is. Being thrust into this huge position of responsibility is completing the crossover for her from being a country innocent to a metro sophisticate. I think I should bring her home mother before she is lost to me. Juliet: No we agreed two months without fraternization. There is still another fortnight to go. Sadly for Fargo perhaps, the inability to shorten his embargo on dating Tess without going against her mother's wishes, gave Glen the inside running. Newspaper, magazine, radio and more TV interviews followed and created Tess into a minor celebrity. She'd enter restaurants with Kristen and Eve in tow on nights when they were not out with their boyfriends and they would be greeted warmly, Tess by name, and shown to a prime table. People, mostly women, would drop by to say a few complimentary words. The July issue with the front cover in black with a 'wash' of a woman's neck down to the just a portion of the rise of her breast and wearing a necklace in great clarity, clearly showing diamonds, telegraphed the theme of the cover story. It was wonderful coverage, crammed with short articles about the history, marketing and wearing of diamonds and interviews of women who choose to wear diamond jewelry and why. The feedback was excellent. The first issue of 400,000 issues had sold out, as was to be expected with some casual readers interested to see what the fuss was about, but the Diamond Issue as it was called, achieve sales of over 355,000, a significant improvement and bringing confidence that upturn might become stabilized at around that figure. Great secrecy surrounded the August issue, much tighter than ever before. Fargo, who'd failed with three invitations for Tess to join him for dinner and once to join him and his parents for a weekend lunch was rather angry with her. When he couldn't find out the theme for August he went to Tess's office and was told what the theme was. "Oh no," he groaned. "You should have come to me about this." "Why, my brief was to save the magazine, not to wait until I was told what I can and cannot publish. Would you prefer me to resign?" Fargo swallowed and waited to ensure panic didn't show in his voice. "No of course not. Keep on the way you are going. What will the September theme be?" A focus on flowers for the house, he was told, and said oh very acceptable. Tess said, "I suggest we print 420,000 copies for August." "No way. That's getting up within sight of the market leaders apart from the leading two. We've never had a mag issue sell that many." "There has to be a first for everything Fargo. Oh I can come to lunch this weekend if the invitation can be renewed. Your father has instinct. Perhaps I should ask him to authorize printing 420,000 copies. It will sell really big Fargo. Oh I haven't accepted your offer of dates because I'm dating Glen Finch." "That TV jerk?" "That gentleman who hosts the interviews half hour every week night." "God what's happening between you and me?" "Oh perhaps I have been hit by maturity Fargo?" "What the hell does that mean?" "It means I'm now attracted to men of greater maturity than you and in that context maturity doesn't equate to age." "Jesus. What am I supposed to do?" "When out the other night I believe I saw you with Stefani Holden. Why don't you fuck her? I'm sure every other guy who dates her does." Fargo left her office, muttering. He slammed her door shut and the top pane of glass cracked. Tess was sorry she'd upset him. He called a minute later and apologized for slamming her door. "It cracked the top pane of glass." "Leave it to me. I'll call maintenance now." "Thanks. I'm sorry I upset you with that inappropriate comment." He laughed and said thanks that he'd always been a poor loser. "I'll take the punt and requisition 420,000 copies, unless you care to reduce the risk and ask for a few thousand less?" "No four-twenty is fine. I'll manage the controversy. Remember I am trained in public relations including standing in the heat and meeting opponents head on." "Oh fine." "Don't dare change you mind darling. I aim to scare the shit out of my opposition magazines including those who think they are on a level playing field with us. And the other thing we are saying is, advertisers and advertising agencies take note." "Yeah quite. You are doing a great job." CHAPTER 3 To her delight, Tess had found going out for supper with Glen Finch after her TV interview he was just as bright and pleasant as he had been in the TV studio. But why had he been involved in a divorce... had they fallen out of love, or one or both of them transgressed, or had their being bullying or...? She sighed and said leave it. At the restaurant he had a full dinner because he never ate before a show. She was too tense to really eat so settled for an entrée and desert. She had one glass of wine and he had two, leaving what was left in the bottle. Outside the restaurant he hailed a cab and opened the door for her, saying goodnight. She was so disappointed and she'd being looking forward to finding how good was he at kisses and cuddles. "Thanks for dinner. Please kiss me." He hesitated and then delivered on the kiss, it being a fair representation of a kiss but was without passion. Oh dear. She smiled and waved as the cab rolled off and another cab stopped behind them. She wondered where was he off? To visit his secret girlfriend? That had been meant as a joke but reality changed her mind. Oh heavens, she whimpered silently. How crass of her, forcing herself upon him. The poor girlfriend probably had dinner waiting for him. Tess was almost asleep at 11.15 after watching TV with Kristen when he phone went. "Yes this is Tess." "Hi, it Glen. I've finished up having a bit of a rough night, having to tell this woman I've been seeing it's over. I didn't feel I could begin attempting to date you while she was waiting for me to call." "Oh I can understand what a difficult situation that would be." That comment appeared to cheer him and he said, "The bitch was too demanding anyway, always wanting to know when I'd be seeing her again, when would I be bringing her a present I'd allegedly promised her some months ago. I'm glad to be rid of her." Rather shaken by that outburst Tess was unsure of what to say but knew she ought to make an attempt. "I'm sure it must have been difficult for you?" "It sure was Tess. I wish I'd never met her. She's a friend of my sister's and came to a party at my sister's place. I arrived late and this Amanda just went for me and I scarcely had time to grab a drink before she had me in the laundry and was pulling out my cock." "Oh how awful," Tess said, wishing he would stop talking to her like this. "Well she turns out to be the best cock-sucker I've ever had. She gave me her address and two nights later I was banging her when I heard the front door open. I said to her that someone has come in through the front door and she said Christ, that would be her husband..." Tess switched her off her phone and sat dismayed. Why had the jerk being telling her of his troubles in such intimate detail? She knew she should have nothing more to do with him. Her phone went. "Yes," she said, knowing it would be him. "Tess I'm sorry. I got carried away and began unburdening to you. I really promise I'll look up to you and respect you and will never lay a finger on you in anger. I only slapped that stupid bitch tonight because she was hanging on to me, refusing to let me leave after I dumped her. I..." "Glen!" "Oh sorry, I'm doing all the talking. I only called back to apologize..." "Glen I never wish to see you again or hear from you again and if you attempt to harassment you must accept the consequences. Goodbye." Tess switched off her phone and sat on her bed shaking. God his poor wife; living with Glen must have been hell. After returning from the bathroom and climbing into bed she thought that Fargo compared with Glen appeared to be a saint. Fargo could be rather indifferent at times but he could be weaned out of that. She knew he played around with other women, apparently indiscriminately but then he had no one to really love and to return any affection he could muster. Yes, she ought not write him off as a lost cause. The next morning at 7:00 the first few copies of the July issue came off the press and she looked at the thin limp piece of white membrane in the small picture on the front cover and checked the spelling of the single word beneath it, 'Condoms'. The Editor Author's Note: A little bit of truth followed by a heaping load of bull. Thank you Tim413413 for editing this and eight part "The Job" that will soon follow. ***** This June I got older. Now, I know it happens every June, but this June affected me more than the ones in the past. I don't know why it wasn't a normal June. My birthday wasn't a milestone number. It could have been because it was basically ignored by those around me. I was never one for parties or any big celebration. Give me a cake, preferably an ice cream cake, and a few presents nicely wrapped and I am good to go. I don't want to be the center of attention, but, I guess I need some attention. My life is basically good. I have plenty of money, although I wouldn't mind more. I have a good job that is as secure as Fort Knox. I have good friends to play cards with every Friday and another group that meets on Monday nights. Why I felt the need to change things might have been driven by the monotony. It might also have been driven by the fact no one remembered my birthday. I was getting older and maybe I saw my name fading away. Whatever the reason, I decided to write. I hadn't written anything non-business-related since college. It wasn't really enjoyable back then. I was compelled to write for English classes or I'd never receive a diploma. I tried hard, but,the words just didn't come together. Maybe it was the subject matter, which I have long since forgotten. Maybe it was because I was forced to write or maybe I was just too young. I am older now. Much older. Writing would be boring if there was no audience. I expected little to come of my feeble attempts, but I had a desire to be read. Being an average red-blooded male, I was familiar with erotica. It started with Penthouse Forum as a teen - those stories are real, you know. Times have changed dramatically since then. The internet would be my medium and Literotica would be my vehicle. My first story came pouring out of my brain. I am not sure how to explain it. I started with a stupid plot, like all porn. Then something strange happened. The plot changed and got twisted as I wrote. I drifted far away from the original plan and a new story was born. Something I never envisioned appeared on the page. It was smut of course, but smut with a plot. It turned out I liked the plot more than the sex. This drivel I created would surely not fly in the world of Literotica. Apprehensively, I created a login and posted. Sadly, I was rejected. It turns out Literotica had requirements about punctuation. I couldn't believe they really wanted me to read the rules before posting. I was pissed at first. Who the hell cares if my punctuation was inside or outside the quotes? It took me a few hours before I admitted to myself that my grammar skills sucked. I fixed what the literary snobs bitched about and re-posted. It was accepted. I forgot about the story until a lone email appeared in my inbox a few days later. It was a precious thing. "My precious". Someone had taken the time to comment on my story. It was from anonymous, who I now like very much. It spoke about my story as if it was a New York Times best seller. My ego grew that day and I felt younger. I struggled through the Literotica author's interface and found my story and clicked "moderate public comments." I was flooded with very positive comments. There were a few naysayers who loved the story, but had trouble with my grammar. They pissed me off at first. An hour later I admitted they were correct. I would just have to be more careful next time. My ego was Jupiter-sized at this point so I knew there would be a next time. I was mowing the lawn when the next plot hit me. I had the entire story in my brain by the time I got back to the computer. I sat, I wrote and the story changed. It was no longer the silly male fantasy about twins that I had imagined. Something much more complex emerged. I drifted far away from the original plot. So much so that only the concept of the twins remained. The story was retitled to "The Network." I reread it four times and fixed every error I found and posted. I was careful this time. My ego was fed a gourmet feast. I was shocked by the response. I'm not a writer, but these people thought I was. Intermixed with the glorious responses were the grammar police scoldings. I obviously needed an editor. My next story was also way off plan. It was supposed to be a strictly sexual fantasy. It morphed into something completely different as I wrote. I tried to find an editor and failed. I was also very impatient and my ego wouldn't let me wait. I posted a story and called it the "The Homeless." Now there's a title that should make erotica lovers steer clear. It was my best-received story. I got cocky. My next story wouldn't start with a plan. Literotica has contests and the next one was about summer. I wrote the title "The Beach House." That was all that was on the paper and I had no plan. Something happened that shocked me. I started writing and a story emerged that I never thought possible. I had no idea where it came from. I was in the zone. 'Screw the contest,' I thought. The story was so much more important than the contest. Luckily, I had found an editor. Editing after the fact was painful. I am such an amateur and the mistakes were numerous. It took many days of back and forth with the editor to fix the mess. I dreaded seeing a new revision in my inbox. I was in the middle of writing another story and hated to revisit the old one. By the time I had a final copy of "The Beach House," "The Gift" was also complete. I posted them both on the same day. There was no way "The Gift" was going to be edited. It was supposed to be a light story and halfway through, it had morphed into something dark. The only ending that made sense hurt. I don't revisit sadness if I can avoid it. I vowed my next story would be edited in real time. That was the decision that changed my fledgling career. I had received a nice email from bornonahighway2hell sent through the Literotica filter. I have enjoyed your stories. They are peppered with grammatical and spelling errors that can distract a reader. I have no creativity, but I do have an OCD knowledge of grammar. I would be happy to help you with your next story. -j I wrote back, explaining my desire for real-time editing. I didn't think I could handle after-the-fact again. His response was positive so our joint work began. The story started as something and, like all the rest, evolved into something completely different. I ended up with a tortured soul having a chance meeting in a supermarket with an ex gymnast who was trying to figure out her future. Okay, I know it was a stupid start, but that is how it goes when my fingers type faster than I can think. Having a gymnast was perfect for the sexual situations that emerged as I wrote. Flexibility can be so erotic if it is used correctly. I was laughing to myself when I wrote the first sex scene. When you have someone who can do the splits, sex in a small broom closet becomes a bit more realistic. I sent my first pages to 'j.' I received the return email the next day. Enclosed you will find an edited copy of your work. I highlighted things that should be removed in red. Additions, such as a missing "and," are in green. Suggested word replacements are in yellow. Note: I don't think a woman's parts work that way. You should probably consider changing the broom closet scene. -j I was a bit surprised by the comment. This was fiction and the scene was hot. Well, it was hot in my mind. How in hell did he know if women could do that? One foot on the floor and one on the man's shoulder. I was sure a gymnast could do the standing splits if she had someone holding her leg. I wrote back thanking him for the edits, which were very helpful, and telling him I thought those splits were doable. I received an email in under ten minutes. I agree those splits are doable. It is the penetration while doing those splits that seems improbable. -j Why was he trashing my scene? I thought I had seen something like this on the internet. I had never had a woman that flexible, or any woman who wanted to have sex in a broom closet for that matter. I began to have second thoughts. Maybe he was right. How did I know what would happen if a woman's vagina was stretched that tight? Damn, I really liked the closet scene. I intended to refer to it later in the story now that it was in. I would lose all direction removing it. I wrote back and told him so. It's your story. I was just trying to help you make it believable. You, of course, will make all the final decisions. -j That was nice of him to not push the issue. The "make it believable" statement kind of gnawed at me. None of my stories were based on any fact. Most I wouldn't even chalk up as being possible. Why did sex scenes have to be believable? They only needed to be erotic. Maybe I should include a disclaimer; "Performed by professional fictional characters. Don't try this at home." I continued to write, thinking the closet scene discussion was over. My joke about mops and brooms would still be cute during the argument the characters would eventually have. I wondered why I liked writing arguments into my stories. I guess it made the characters more believable. I received another email the next day. Yes, penetration is possible. It is not anywhere near as much fun as you depict. I haven't been able to find a broom closet in any supermarket. -j The closet issue wasn't dead. I thought he said it was my story. I didn't want to argue with him and possibly lose a good editor. I wasn't sure how to respond. I was glad he accepted the fact that the position was possible. Fun is in the eye of the beholder. There has to be at least one grocery store in the world that has a broom closet. I wrote back as nicely as I could pointing out the facts as I knew them. I'll concede the broom closet. I still don't think any woman, in that position, would have the mind-blowing orgasm you describe. -j He caved on the broom closet and the penetration. Now I just had to get him past the orgasm which I didn't realize was an issue. Maybe I didn't set up the scene as well as I had thought. I explained about the passion the couple had felt. The chance of being caught in a broom closet. The overall naughtiness of going all the way at the first meeting. This would bring out the animal in anyone and raise the pleasure to new levels. Nope. Sex is more mechanical than mental. Women don't work that way. -j Who said women were my target audience. Hell, I was happy with my Literotica star ratings and had no concern if it was women or men who were reading. Sexy girl in the broom closet doing splits on my dick - that is sexy as hell for a man. I know, because I thought of it and it titillated me. I wrote back, a bit stronger this time. I let him know that his knowledge of women was probably a bit weak. In my experience, passion was as important as the mechanical aspects. Maybe even more so. My experience was a bit limited, but that didn't stop me from portraying myself as an expert on female sexuality. You're right. What do I know? I never really had a great sexual experience. -j Crap. It sounded like he was depressed. I am not a therapist and would rather be writing my story. I wondered if I should take any of his advice beyond the grammatical. His grammar was excellent, but what do I know? I never really had a great grammatical experience. I wrote back like I was his drinking buddy. I told him it sounded like he needed to get laid. I was no expert, but I could tell by the emails that he was a bit backed up. I told him to go have some meaningless sex, preferably with a professional so he didn't have to worry about building the passion. Just lower the stress and get some release. You're right, again. -j I left it at that. I couldn't get involved in a long-distance therapy session. For all I knew, he had four horns and a spiked tail. He could spell and that's what I needed. I type so fast I keep making simple homonym errors. Those errors never get the squiggly red line. Without an editor, some of my sentences become gibberish. I took a break from writing. It was time to feed the refrigerator so it could feed me. I went to the grocery store and, yes, I looked for a broom closet. My cursory trip around the outer walls left me with the impression there weren't any available broom closets. If there was a closet, it was well in the back, behind the employee-only swinging doors. Not at all like I had described. There were other local stores and I vowed to check them all in time. I was pushing my cart around an aisle end near the front of the store. A young boy, who should have been in school, was trying to reach a jar of applesauce on the top shelf. I saw it happening and was too far away to stop it. The boy brought down three jars in a failed leap-and-grab move. Applesauce jars don't really shatter like normal glass. They sort of land like a bean bag, cushioned by the thick sauce inside. I watched the mother's face turn red and the boy cower behind the cart. The "cleanup in aisle six" came over the speaker just a moment later. I hung back, not wanting to embarrass the woman by scooting my cart through the spilled sauce. I watched with fascination as a young man, wearing a clerk's apron, opened an unmarked door next to the pharmacy counter. He pulled out a mop and pail and I smiled. There, before me, lay an honest-to-goodness broom closet. It couldn't have been any larger than four-by-four. That was exactly how I described it in my story. Take that, reality police! I reversed my direction, skipped the messy aisle and continued my shopping. I had every intention of returning, when the cleaning was done, to get a good view of the closet. 'j' wanted reality. Well, I was going to give it to him. When I swung back to aisle six, about fifteen minutes later, the mess was gone. I could see why I didn't notice the door before. It looked like the employee access to the pharmacy counter. I pulled my cart close and casually opened the door. Crap, it was more like four-by-ten. It went much farther back than I thought. The room was used to store the aisle-wide dust brooms. Nothing a quick rewrite couldn't fix. Maybe I could pack the room with boxes leaving only a four-by-four space. With ten feet, the splits were not as necessary and the woman's movements didn't have to be as limber. "Is that a broom closet?" a woman's voice asked from over my shoulder. I turned to see a trim middle-aged woman in a flowery summer dress. She had dusty brown curly hair that truncated at her neckline. 'Kind of cute,' I thought offhandedly. "Yes it is," I answered and looked back inside to get a better mental picture. "How big is it?" she asked quickly. I felt blood rushing to my face. There were very few people who would be interested in the size of a broom closet at a supermarket. "About four-by-ten," I said casually, without turning around. My hand was shaking a bit. 'This can't be happening,' I told myself. "Bigger than four-by-four," she mumbled, mostly to herself. My heart was beating pretty quickly. I think I had just told this woman I had a better understanding of her sexuality than she did and she needed to get laid. I turned slowly, hoping to get out of there cleanly. She looked at my blushing face and realization flooded her features. Her face went bright red, hopefully brighter than mine. Of all the supermarkets, in all the towns, in all the world she walks into mine. "DreamCloud?" she asked in a whisper. I wondered briefly if I could get away with a "no." I felt like a Neanderthal at a quilting bee. I nodded my head and dropped my eyes in shame. I was trying to concoct an adequate apology in my mind. I couldn't get past the "I'm sorry" part. If only I had more time to think. Maybe I could run out of there and send her a contrite email. She quickly looked around like a very bad spy. I stared dumbfounded still trying to figure out what to say. She grabbed my hand, pulled me into the closet and shut the door. The small room went very dark. There was a small sliver of light coming from the bottom of the door, but it failed to illuminate any feature in the room. "I'm Julie," she said as I felt her shimmying next to me. She bent over for a second. I suspected she was trying to look under the door. "Mike," I responded carefully, still trying to figure out if an apology was necessary. Her left hand grabbed my wrist and her right hand pushed some silky cloth into my hand. "Those are my panties," Julie said in a low, casual tone. I felt the beginning of arousal. I shelved the idea of an apology. "I was told I needed some meaningless sex with a professional. You seemed pretty knowledgeable in your emails." I felt her hand run down my side. I only write about this shit. It never really happens. I was a bit worried about any expectations she might have about my sexual skills. "I thought you were a guy," I mumbled like an idiot. I felt her knee rise up my thigh and continued up past my waist. I reached up and followed her thigh with my hand as she began to straighten her leg. Shit, she was reenacting the story. I couldn't see a thing, but my male brain imagined it perfectly. I tucked her panties into my pocket and brought my other hand over to caress her thigh and help bring her foot over my shoulder. "I was a cheerleader at one time. Never been a guy." Julie giggled as her foot found my shoulder. I was rock hard imagining what she looked like at that moment. I lightly ran my hand down the inside of her thigh. Julie shivered as I reached between her legs. "You're so wet," I observed as I cupped her sex. Julie pulled my head forward and attached her lips to mine. My erection was now straining in my pants. I couldn't believe she could hold her leg up like that and pull me in for kiss. She must have been one hell of a cheerleader. This was much hotter than what I wrote. I started unbuckling my belt. She was giggling as her hands joined mine. Impatience was eating at both of us. I pulled my pants to my knees and she dropped my boxers. When I felt her hand close around my erection I nearly lost it. Her hand was so warm and soft that I jerked involuntarily. "Oh no you don't," Julie whispered, "you're going to wait for me." I gritted my teeth and worked hard to pull myself back from the edge. "This is way hotter than I thought," I responded, trying to preempt any embarrassing lack of stamina that may arise. She guided me between her legs and I struggled, trying to help her with my hips. I had my hands around her back, keeping her steady as we tried to find the right mix of hip positions. She seemed to be enjoying the failed attempts. I was dying a little at each failure. This was so simple to write, but much more difficult in practice. I wasn't sure I could hold off much longer with my crown rubbing and searching among her wet folds. Suddenly, we fit together. My hips angled up and she sank downward. Her groan echoed mine as the heavenly feeling embraced us both. Her hand left my cock and wrapped around my neck as we established a wonderfully slow, sensual rhythm. A modicum of control returned with the end of the pulling and jabbing. I turned my head to her firm calf and kissed it lovingly. This was by far the kinkiest, most spontaneous and erotic experience of my life. "So much better than plastic," Julie moaned as my erection slowly pushed back in. Visions of her experimenting with a dildo, trying to prove my story wrong, flowed through my mind. My loins heated at the thoughts. She should have kept it to herself. The Editor "Julie...you have to cum. I can't take...," I informed her in gasps. She didn't let me finish. She pulled my lips back to hers and drove her tongue between them. I was gone. I exploded into her. Everything I had left me and entered her. I felt her muscles tense, her pussy clamped down and a shudder echoed down her leg. She was moaning in my mouth as I emptied into her. I wasn't sure how we remained upright. She was shaking uncontrollably and my legs felt like rubber. I stayed with her as my orgasm waned and hugged her close as she came down from her own. "That was much better than I expected," Julie confided, "you were right about all of it." I separated from her and gently helped her lower her leg. "No. I think that was much better than the story," I replied, "quite incredible in fact. This was by far the best time I have ever had." I carefully stroked the side of her head after locating it in the darkness. My eyes were just starting to adjust to the low light. "You didn't write about the mess," Julie giggled. I imagined what must be running down her leg. I do kind of skip the messy parts when writing. Well, it was an emergency so I improvised. I couldn't leave her dripping in a grocery store. I ran my hand from her knee to her groin. I wiped my soaked hand on my boxers and repeated the process until my hand came back dry. "Bet I won't see that in the story," she laughed. When I stood up she kissed me softly on the lips. "I really kind of needed that, thank you." It sounded like this was going to be a one-shot deal. She made it sound final. Strangely, it did make sense. "My pleasure," I replied in a masculine tone. I was hoping she could sense my smile. We straightened our clothes and put ourselves back together. I tried to hand her her panties, but she insisted I keep them. I put the trophy back in my pocket. Opening the door nearly blinded us. We got a few surprised looks from some customers, but none of the employees seemed aware of our little dalliance. Julie smiled at me and blew me a kiss. She grabbed her cart and headed down aisle six. I was getting a bit re-aroused thinking of her without panties in her summer dress. I shook my head and headed to the checkout lane. I must have smelled like a sex since the cashier's nose kept twitching. I just smiled and paid for the groceries. I changed the story as soon as I got home. The ex-gymnast became an ex-cheerleader. She was a bit older and a hell of a lot sexier. Much more realistic and so very hot. I'm glad you left out the messy part. -j The Editor "How will you arrange to be there when he walks into the room?" "Oh, I'll be there. I need to talk to him and he will hear me and understand! I guarantee it. Drink your tea, children. Oh, Sam I left your story for last. Your pain and suffering have been an important part of this work. I can't give you all the details but can assure you that none of your suffering was without purpose. As of moments ago everyone in this town knows you as the kind and caring person you really are. None of them remember anything even slightly negative about you. They believe, rightly so, that you are a fine lady and are the salt of the Earth. In fact, the young man who you had a crush on in high school will soon be asking you out for a date. You will be married to a loving husband within the year. Nobody will ever remember what they used to think about you. No letters, notes, recordings or such exist to say differently. You are to have a long and fruitful life. And when you all leave this house you will only remember that you had a nice talk and a cup of tea, but by tonight you will not remember who you talked to or where you went. None of you will remember the painful hurts that have gone before." Jane spoke in a very quiet voice, "Who exactly are you?" "Well, 'Gabby' is my current nickname. Years ago I told a young virgin girl that she was to have a son. You've heard of me. You know me as Gabriel. I serve the Lord and I'm allowed to do a bit of Editing every now and then. When you leave here, you will forget that I or this house ever existed. Nobody will remember me. However, you will feel a strange warm feeling anytime you read my name in the Holy Scriptures." The following afternoon Pastor Drake, having been shaken to the core by a call from his doctor friend, went to his son John's old room. When he walked in he saw the pink wallpaper, the dresses in the closet, the dolls and stuffed animals, the sports trophies for the girls sports teams and then he saw a brilliantly white light surrounding a large man in a white robe. He found himself flat on his face, shaking in fear. "Gabby" introduced himself and told him that he needed to repent while there was still time. Gabriel showed him the coldness of legalism and the fact that he had set himself, and others, the task of judging people. Gabriel reminded him that judgment belongs only to the Lord. At that point, the pastor's wife came in the door. Gabriel explained that he had sent for her. He again stressed God is the Judge, and that in the meantime we are to love those around us and forgive them when we believe that they have wronged us. For, as "Gabby" made it clear, if we do not forgive others we will not be forgiven! A few moments after speaking with Gabriel, pastor Drake and his wife went to the hotel. When Jane answered the door, they asked for her forgiveness. Jane told them that she had already forgiven them. That evening there was rejoicing at the reunion that took place in the Drake household. Things had been corrected and three young women, who were already close friends, became closer. It is wonderful when all things are as they should be!