music, books, love and kindness

Short story

Editorial Discretion

“The romance and emotions are amazing, but it’s like the person writing these has never had sex before.”

I stared at my agent, the one I had searched high and low for in trying to get the best, as well as someone who would be GBLT-fiendly. Everyone I asked and every bit of research suggested she was the ultimate professional.

She stared back, unruffled and somehow knowing. “It wouldn’t hurt to draw from your own personal experience, even if you swear this character is nothing like you.”

“Personal experience, huh?” I tried to clear my throat by laughing, but my editor did not look amused. If only she knew.

Suddenly, her dark grey eyes narrowed and a light dawned in them or so my paranoid intution screamed silently.

“Oh my God!” She said, sounding like a teenage girl. “This whole never had sex before is your personal experience, isn’t it?” She couldn’t have sounded more horrifed if I had just disclosed I was a serial killer.

I mumbled something or other and looked away. We hardly knew each other well enough for this kind of conversation. We had talked more than usual in person this past year, but most of our communication had always been by texting or email.

“You’re the girl in your stories, the virgin who wants love and sex and understanding then sex more than anything else and finally finds it all? No wonder those parts read so painfully real.” For a flicker of a second, her gaze seemed to soften. “Oh my.”

I blushed so bad my face felt on fire. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“But if it’s affecting your work, I think we do need to talk about it.”

“Talking about it isn’t going to change my background. I’ll just rework the scenes, use my imagination better and write until I get it better.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be enough.” She said, a weird look coming over face, as she scrutizined me way beyond my comfort level.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to go the other route.”

She looked slightly amused. “And what route would that be?” She was egging me on, she had to be.

“I’m not going to spell it out.” I paused. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Personally, I think I’d like to see you squirm a bit.”

At that I stood up in a huff, proving myself to be a stuffy old virgin, but not caring because she was starting to infuriate me. Subconsciously, though, I might have been replacing the nerve she’d hit with anger. Deep inside, I was squirming over her use of…”squirming.” She was making fun of me when I secretly hoped she’d mean it more suggestively.

Miranda stopped laughing when she saw I was upset. She actually seemed to be sorry and said so.

“That’s alright. I shouldn’t take things so seriously.” I gathered my papers together, though, and pretended to have a huge interest in my briefcase.

“Holly, I am sorry. I am.” Her voice sounded shockingly gentle and she cautiously reached out her right hand to touch my shoulder. “I shouldn’t be so insensitive to your plight.”

My jaw dropped. She just kept the insults coming, didn’t she? “It’s not a plight. Unlike my orientation, my virginity is something I choose.”

“Any why is that?”

I don’t know why, but I found myself wanting to open up to her and her change of heart. She sounded like she wanted to know, like she cared. I plopped down in my chair. “You’ll just laugh.” I whispered.

“Having read your stories, I have some idea. But surely there’s more to it than love and romance.”

“You’ll laugh.” I insisted.

“Wow, I really do come across as a dragon, don’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say dragon.” I hedged. “More like ice queen who’s never had trouble getting anyone she wanted. Some of us don’t know what that’s like.”

“Is that how you see your situation?” I couldn’t get over her switch to kind and gentle. It made me want to cry.

“I don’t think that I’m an ice queen. Uptight, yes, but-“

“No, Holly.” She knew I knew what she meant. “The other thing. Do you see your virginity as something no one wants?”

I swallowed hard, wondering where my outrage was…that she was asking me this, that she got right to the heart of the matter when she didn’t even know me. Did she moonlight as a therapist in her spare time?

I didn’t want to answer, knew I shouldn’t if I wanted to hold on to any shred of dignity, but I nodded. “Yes.” My voice came out raspy and broken.

She got up from behind her desk and came over to sit next to me, taking my hands in hers. “Oh dear girl, I’m so sorry I’ve been cavalier about all this. I just didn’t think anyone like you still existed. It’s easy to joke at what you think is just a fairy tale.”

“A fairy tale?” I didn’t understand.

“It may seem to you that you’ve been thrown to the wolves, but someday someone is going to love you very much and she’ll understand and want what you have to offer. You’ll be someone’s fairy tale come true.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “I’ve heard that before…from the women who didn’t want me or understand.”

“Well, those women are just the ones who aren’t right for you.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Now why don’t we look at what we can do to jazz up the sex scenes up some on my computer. I’ll help you fill in the holes.”

My phone rang early the next afternoon as I sat at my computer, in the midst of the worst writer’s block I’d ever known. Not so much because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I had too much…so maybe it was more like writer’s flood.

I picked up the phone very reluctantly.

“Hello?”

Miranda’s sultry, commanding voice greeted my ears and I shivered slightly, though I had no clue why.

“Holly, I have some news that I hope is good for both of us.”

“You do?”

“Well, before I say anything about the news, I want you to know I have a reason for it, a reason I hope you’ll like…or at least consider.” She paused. “I’m no longer your agent.”

“What?” I said it louder than I meant, but I was shocked and disappointed. She was, after all, the best in the business.

“Your new agent’s just as good as me, if not better, and he’ll take very good care of you.”

“But, Miranda, I-“

“I like you, Holly. I know I haven’t always led you to believe that, that I’ve been tough on you, but I like you.”

“I like you, too, Miranda.”

“No, Holly, I _like_ you. I’ve been as professional as possible about it, but yesterday I could tell I was slipping and you having confirmed what I’d begun to suspect only made me like you more.”

“I don’t understand.” I didn’t and I knew it only made more that much more idiotic.

She laughed, but it was a warm, kind sound and I felt a lump rise to my throat. “My dear girl, I can’t be your agent any more because I want to ask you out.”

“You do?”

She laughed again. “Yes. I do. Is that so hard to believe?”

I couldn’t speak for a second. I had never entertained for one second that Miranda might like me. Assuming she was straight and completely off limits, I had been very successful in shutting down my own attraction to her. “Actually, it is.”

“Would you like to meet for coffee so I can convince you in person?” Never had she sounded so vulnerable and open.

“Today?”

“As soon as you can meet me, if that’s alright.”

“Why don’t you just come here now? I can make us a snack and put a pot of coffee on. Unless-“

“No!” Her emphatic exclamation made me smile. “That would be fine.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Again, I smiled at her nervousness. Who would have ever thought Miranda Hilton could get so rattled?

When she knocked on my door and I opened it. I felt incredibly shy and speechless. I just gaped at her, knowing I must look like a fish, but not able to help it.

“Can I come in?” She asked quietly.

In the short time I’d had between hanging up and her arrival, the thought had crossed my mind that she had her own purposes for this.

I nodded, then spoke up. “But if you’re doing this just to help with my story, I’d rather you just tell me now.”

She blinked. “What? Of course not! Of course not. I. Like. You. Can I come in so we can talk about it?”

“Sure. Gee, where are my manners?” I gestured her in.

“Despite the differences in our experiences, I can’t help but be absolutely charmed by your take on love and sex.”

“Don’t you mean amused?”

We were sitting in my living room and neither of us had touched the coffee and cookies I had set out.

Her eyes widened with what seemed like hurt. “Amused?” She paused, then added in a very quiet voice: “No. Not at all. Charmed and, may I add, quite smitten.”

“By someone like me?” I laughed. “Really?”

There was no doubt now I’d hurt Miranda’s feelings. “Yes, by someone like you. Do you not think I’m capable of genuine emotion, of liking someone kind and sweet and smart like you?”

“What I think is not meant to reflect on you, honest.” I paused. “You have to understand…most women run far, far away when I share that about myself. And you…well, you…”

“Yes?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re too good for someone like me.”

“I could say the same thing about you. I can say the same thing, only more. You are definitely too good for me.”

“And why do you think that?”

She looked away for a second. I couldn’t remember her ever evading a situation. “I’ve not always been a good person. I’ve not always been kind to to the women with whom I’ve been.”

“And I’ve never been with any woman. Which of us is the sadder case?” I tried to soften my cynicism with a laugh, but failed miserably.

“Why are you so hard on yourself about being a virgin?” She asked it matter of factly, no judgement or disdain in her voice at all. “It’s a wonderful gift for whomever’s lucky enough to receive it.”

“I know all the advice columns say it’s not good to admit how lonely you are, that it reeks of desperation and scares people away, but that’s what I am. And I didn’t feel this way or try and date so much until…”

“Until?”

“Until I met you.”

Miranda blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“Have you ever been at that stage of your life where you’ve just managed to convince yourself you don’t need another person to be happy and then you meet someone and you know right away you’re going to like her, only there’s no point in all that because she’s straight and already has someone and could never like you back that way?” I had been looking down at my hands, but when I turned my face up to meet hers she was staring at me.

“Yes.” She whispered. “I have. Are you…are you saying you felt that way when you met me? Or am I misreading the situation?”

“Of course I’m talking about you, Miranda. Jeez, I thought I was the one with the confidence problem. You’re that person. You’re the person that makes everyone else seem dull, that makes going on as if everything is still normal almost impossible.”

“Holly, I’m not straight. And I’m single. And I like you. Can’t we start with that?”

“But…” I trailed off, struggling for the right words, for any words.

“But what?” she asked gently as she got up and moved carefully next to me, as if I were something she could startle easily.

“Why me? You could have anyone in the world, why me?”

“Why you?” Miranda leaned in close, her right hand carressing my cheek as she grew ever near. “Because you are you. Because you’re just what I’m lookng for.” And when her lips were on mine I forgot everything else. Because she was what I was looking for too.