The Girl Who Wrote Erotica, Book One: The Method (Contemporary Romance) (2 page)

“Yeah,” I said, “a frustrated, exasperated author, whose editor just threw her a total curveball.”

“That doesn't sound good,” the girl said. “Can I help?”

I grinned. “Thanks, but unless you know anything about lesbian romance, I’m not sure how you could help me out.” I laughed softly, so that she knew I wasn’t trying to presume anything or offend her.

I needn’t have worried. She pursed her lips a moment, her face the very picture of earnestness. “Well, I'm not a lesbian, but my parents are both writers, so I picked up a thing or two,” she said proudly, with a sweet smile. “Maybe I can give you some ideas!”

I eyed her for a moment, taken aback by her total willingness to help out a stranger – a trait that was all too rare in this city.
She must be a tourist,
I decided. Suddenly, I realized she was waiting for me to speak. 

“So, uh, what do
you
do...?” I trailed off. “I’m Natasha, by the way.”

She giggled shyly. “I know who you are! I've actually read a couple of your books. But I'm not a crazy stalker fan, I swear!” I believed her, of course; I could spot the crazy fans a mile away.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m Sam.” She reached her hand across the table for me to shake. “And I'm an actress.”

I raised my eyebrows. “An actress, huh?”

“Yep, it's always been my dream – and guess what? I only came to the city a few weeks ago, and just yesterday an agency signed me to a contract!” She could barely contain her delight.

“Oh! That's… great!” I replied cheerfully. I wouldn’t dare say it, but the truth was that I was worried, and even sorry for her – a girl as nice as she was, this city was going to eat her up. “What agency?”

“Athens Talent, down on Fifth,” she shrugged. “They seem really nice. Have you heard of them?”

Shit.
Of course I’d heard of Athens. That agency had been known for scamming and taking advantage of sweet young actresses like Sam; new to the city, new to the business. I hesitated for a moment, choosing my next words carefully. “Athens, huh? Yeah, I’ve heard of them. Are you… happy there?”

Her smile turned again to pursed lips, and she fidgeted with her hands. “Well, yeah, it’s alright, but the first gig they assigned me is
way
out of my league. I'm just afraid to turn it down, you know? What if it's my only shot?”

“Oh, come on, it can't be that bad,” I said to try and comfort Sam. She just gave me another nervous look. “What is it?”

She grinned. “Well, wouldn’t you know it – I'm supposed to play the role of a confused teenage girl who soon discovers that she's gay.” She looked across the table at me, all cheerful smiles again. “Hey, it seems like we’re kind of in the same boat!”

I was stunned. Could it really be this easy? Is it actually true that sometimes opportunities just fall in your lap like this? I mulled the idea over in my head quickly before speaking.

“Sam, how old are you?”

She looked confused at my question. “I’m Twenty-four, but I look extremely young for my age. That’s why they cast me as a teen, they said. The guy at Athens.” She fidgeted with her hands some more. I noticed that when she got nervous, she started to speak faster. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, Sam,” I replied, “have you ever heard of… method acting?”

Sam brightened. “I sure have!”

“Well, that’s sort of how I write.” She looked at me a bit blankly, so I kept talking. “In my erotic novels, I write about
real
experiences that I have – real encounters with men. Some of them I’ve known for a while… some of them, I meet for a one-night stand and that’s the last I ever hear from them. Then, I create stories from the experiences.”

Sam’s eyes were shining as I spoke, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. I wondered where she was from – some small town, most likely, where good girls simply didn’t discuss these things. The city would change her soon enough. But for now, I had more pressing concerns at hand. 

“Anyway,” I continued, “that’s where my problem is. I've never had an encounter with another woman, and I have no idea how to go about it. But it seems as though you and I both have problems that could, you know… fix themselves.”

Sam blinked a few times, not registering my meaning. I waited. Sure enough, after a few seconds she seemed to catch the direction I was going. She grinned at me.

“…Go on…” she prompted.

“Well, think about it.
I
need to have a lesbian experience to write about, and
you
need the very same experience to help you with your role...” I trailed off after that, letting her fill in the blanks for herself. It was a delicate moment, and I didn’t want to scare her off. What I was proposing sounded crazy, even to me, but I had the sense that it was so crazy it just might work.

Sam leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at me thoughtfully. I let her ponder over my idea for a few minutes while I sipped my coffee.

Finally, she leaned forward. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“How would it work? I mean, how would we do it?”

I grinned from ear to ear.  “However you want, really. But I
do
know of this great gay bar downtown. We could meet up, pretend like we just met, and go from there. It’ll be just like acting,” I offered.

She chewed her lip, thinking it over. “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you really think we could make it work? Wouldn’t it be… strange?”

“Look,” I said, “you’re the actress. If I can do it, so can you.” And then, after pausing a moment, I played my trump card.

“Plus, if you can make this work for me, I’ll call my agent friend and see if he can help you out. He’s way better than any agent at Athens.”

It was just as I suspected: at the word ‘agent,’ Sam started bobbing back and forth in her seat like a little girl, unable to contain her excitement.
Poor thing,
I thought.
She’s too naïve for this.
For a moment, I considered calling the whole thing off. I didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of her.

But to my surprise, she had a forceful, confident tone in her voice when she spoke next. “All right, let’s do it. Where do you want to meet?” she asked, looking me straight in the eye.

I paused and smiled at her, sizing her up for a moment. She held my gaze easily.
Okay,
I thought to myself,
I guess we’re doing this.
Reaching into my handbag, I pulled out a pen and scribbled the name and address of the club on a napkin.

“Meet me here tonight at nine o’clock,” I said, handing her the napkin and closing my laptop. “I’ll be sitting at the bar with a glass of wine.” She stared at the piece of paper like I had just handed her a wad of money. I had to laugh.

“I’ll see you later, Sam.”
I stood up and slung my purse over my arm, grabbing my laptop off the table. I was a master of the dramatic exit, and I didn’t want to make things awkward by hanging around any longer.

“See you tonight, then,” she giggled. I grinned back at her. “And hey – don’t be late.”

She nodded. I turned and headed out of the café, shaking my head and wondering if this was the craziest idea I’d dreamed up yet.

Later that day, I found myself standing in front of my queen size bed, staring at nearly every article of clothing I owned. Silk blouses, lace cocktail dresses, and miniskirts stared back at me. But somehow, nothing seemed appropriate – what do you wear to a fake date? In the end, I had decided on a black lace dress that hugged my body nicely. I let my jet-black hair hang straight and loose around my shoulders, and threw on a pair of black pumps.

I think I was beyond second-guessing myself at this point, and probably somewhere around the third- or fourth-guessing stage. But I couldn’t back out now. I had a date – and Natasha Banks wasn’t the type to stand up her date, no matter what.

When I arrived at the club, I searched the room for Sam but didn’t spot her. It was only 8:50; I still had a few minutes. My heart was going crazy in my chest, and my palms were sweaty.
That’s weird, I thought.
I never got this nervous about my dates with guys. What was different about this one?
Nothing
, I tried to reason with myself.
Absolutely nothing.
But my body didn’t seem to believe it.

I made myself comfortable at the bar, like I’d told Sam, and ordered a glass of red wine. Despite getting lingering stares from a few other women, I kept my eyes to myself and tried not to give off a vibe of approachability. I waited for over twenty minutes, but there was still no sign of my fake date. I couldn’t believe she’d be late, after our conversation this morning. By the time I’d almost finished my second glass of wine, I’d made up my mind that she had dropped out of the plan and wasn’t going to show up.

Just as I’d given up hope, a figure in the corner of my eye pulled up a stool next to me. I stole a quick glance and saw that it was a stunningly sexy blonde woman. Her red silk dress poured down her body like water and hung completely open in the back, revealing her flawless skin. She leaned her long and creamy arms leaned onto the bar, and turned to face me.

“Hello,” she said. I met the woman’s gaze to return the greeting, and gasped when I saw her face. I had to do a double take when I realized who it was.

“Sam?” I choked. Could this really be the same shy girl with glasses I’d met earlier today?

She gave a coy grin. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“Huh?” I blurted, then caught myself. She was already playing the part, I realized, and playing it well. I barely recognized her.

“Uh, no – sorry, um, you just… look like someone I know,” I told her, joining into the game. I sipped my drink, looking at her over the rim of the glass. Sam’s eyes were masked with dark smoky makeup, and her lips were plump and red, matching her dress.

“Care to join me for a drink?” I offered.

“Sure,” she replied with a smile. God, she looked completely different. It’s amazing what a red dress and some makeup will do sometimes. The movement of her red, juicy lips was strangely captivating. I don’t know if it was the pretense under which we were meeting, or the atmosphere of the bar, but I was feeling almost giddy around her. 

Nervous, I cleared my throat and ordered a glass of wine for her as well. It came quickly, and for a minute or two we both sipped our drinks quietly, catching teasing glances from one another but not saying much of anything. Sam didn’t have to say much, though, to give off a sultry vibe. She moved as if sex radiated form her pores, with fluid arms and long legs that revealed themselves through the thigh high slit as she crossed them towards me, ‘accidentally’ brushing up against mine.

She was
good
at this
.

“So… are you here with anybody?” I asked. I noticed that the front of her barely-there dress had a plunging neckline down to her navel, imitating the back, and her cleavage played peek-a-boo with my eyes.

“I am now,” Sam replied, and swept a graceful finger over her bottom lip, bringing my attention to it.
Oh, fuck.
I had a strong, sudden urge to suck on it. What was happening to me? I quickly chased away the thought with another swallow of wine.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Samantha,” she replied, exhaling the word like a curl of smoke. “Yours?”

“Natasha,” I replied meekly. I couldn’t believe how smoothly she’d put me in the role of the pursued, and herself as the seductress. She’d completely turned the tables on me, and I didn’t know how to react to it. She leaned in and caressed my thigh, staring into my eyes as she touched me. “That’s a beautiful name,” she purred.