Page 58 of Smut

Feeling nervous as all hell, I send him a quick reply to his email.

I’m in. What next?

Kinkily yours, Amanda Hugandkiss

His response is almost immediate.

We get started. You should probably begin reading some of the stuff in the Top 20, at least the samples, just to get a feel for the flow and prose. If you end up jacking off over it, please let me know. With details.

Your place or mine?

Dick Buttkiss

I assume he means to work on the erotica together and not me jacking off. Speaking of, it’s funny how comfortable I am with him making remarks like that. I guess he’s slowly rubbing off on me, which is probably for the best considering what we’ll be embarking on.

My place has an inappropriate Estonian woman, and your place has something from my nightmares. You pick and I’ll be there. And if I end up masturbating because of poorly written porn, I’ll save it for our book and describe it in full detail. Sound good?

Yours sexually,

Fannie Pounder

I’m grinning stupidly at the computer, waiting for his reply, when Ana comes in all bleary-eyed.

“What are you so happy about?” she asks, and when she gets to the coffee maker she pauses.

Wait for it.

Her eyes light up.

“Your date!” she says excitedly.

“It wasn’t a date,” I remind her. “Get your coffee and I’ll tell you about it.”

She’s going to get a real kick out of my new situation. But as she’s clearing her crap from the table, I get the reply from Blake.

I have to work at the store this morning, but I’ll come get you at five. As much as I love inappropriate women, it’s probably best we handle our secret project in secret, so I’ll bring you here. We can order in and I’ll make sure the Harbinger of Doom doesn’t bother us.

Jack Goff.

Right.

Secret.

“So what happened?” Ana says, her eyes probing mine for any information, preferably of the dirty kind. If she only knew.

And now, she can’t.

“Uh,” I stammer, backpedaling. “We went to the pub and it was fun.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup.”

Her eyes narrow and she leans in close, her sun-damaged boobs mashed against the makeup on the table as she scrutinizes me. “I don’t believe you. You know, in Soviet Russia, they taught you how to break your enemy and learn the truth. Very. Easily.”

“Yeah, and you’re from Estonia, which was free from Soviet Russia after 1991. Were you recruited to the KGB as a teenager?”

She purses her puffy lips. “I know things,” she says finally, leaning back and slurping from her coffee.