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“Yep,” I muttered to myself and headed to Sally’s office on the opposite side of the floor. “All that from a girl who is about to battle for her first feature.” Clara, Sally’s assistant, wasn’t at her desk when I arrived, so I knocked on the door.
“Go away!” Sally’s harsh voice sailed through the door.
I turned the knob and quickly entered Sally’s office, firmly shutting the door behind me. Pulling the treasured NOX card from my bra, I put it on the table. “We need to talk about my upcoming feature in Visage.” Sally’s eyes narrowed on me in confusion; then she looked down at the card. Those narrowed eyes swiftly rounded and widened with shock.
“You’ve been invited?” she said, peering at me over her severely edged black glasses. “Is this real?” She picked up the card and admired the quality stationary and the expensive embossing of the font. “Holy shit, Faith! This is real, isn’t it?”
“I was invited last night.” Sally was on her feet in seconds and marched to her door. She bolted the lock and faced me.
“This needs to stay between us. You will tell no one.”
“Okay.” I sat on the visitor’s chair as Sally rushed behind her desk and sat down too. She steepled her hands and glared at me. I wasn’t sure if she was excited or pissed off about this development.
“You realize the kinds of people that go to that club, Faith. Money, power, people that could both elevate and destroy us.” It was the first time I’d ever seen Sally look nervous. Her left eye was twitching, the thick lenses of her glasses forcing me to watch it in a magnified fashion. When her head began ticcing and her perfectly slicked-back black hair began falling from its gelled prison, I knew I was losing my chance.
Leaning forward, I said, “You wanted something that’ll hook in my readers. Sex. BDSM. You can't move these days without reading or watching some alpha dude being all primal and domineering with his love interest and her gushing liters at his every command. We need to capitalize on that. Dip into the whip and anal bead pool and bathe in it a little. Let’s give our readers wild sex on a silver paddled platter. Let’s dildo up and jump on the gag ball bandwagon.” Sally’s lips pursed and she sat back in her seat, regarding me as predatorily as a cat studies a mouse. “I can do this, Sally. Let me do this. I’m a damn good writer and you know it. This is going to work. Trust me.”
The wait for her to speak seemed to drag, my pulse acting like a countdown clock throbbing in my neck.
“This will be your one chance, Faith,” Sally said and I felt my heart kick into a sprint. “But you don’t tell anyone about this. Fuck knows who in this building could be a part of the club.” She paused. “What if you’re recognized? The story will be over before your first flogging.”
“I did some research,” I said. “I got up early this morning. Seems it’s all anonymous. Hoods and masks, all identities hidden. Very Eyes Wide Shut, hopefully without the devil worshipping and cult aspect, of course. Though that would be the story right there. I’ll do whatever it takes to pull the wool over their eyes.”
Sally pointed her taloned finger in my face. “You continue ‘Ask Miss Bliss,’ you’re not leaving that column. Don’t even think it. It’s too important for our popularity.”
“Understood and I would never give up the column. It’s my baby, my very naughty baby.”
“Eight weeks,” Sally said. “Enough time to understand what happens there and not long enough to get in too deep. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Sally drummed her lengthy acrylics on the table. “This…a story this big, this interesting…it could be our summer feature, Faith.” I momentarily lost my breath. The summer feature. Every year Visage published an extended edition. At its heart was a prime feature. The biggest exposé or human-interest story of the entire year.
“I understand,” I said, and Sally shooed me away from her desk with her hand.
As I stood, she said, “Discretion, Faith. No one is to know a whisper about this until it’s done. Not your colleagues, friends, and especially the powers that be.” She pointed toward Harry’s and the other top dog’s offices. “We don’t want the story drowned before we’ve even given you a chance to, what did you say, ‘dip into the whip and anal bead pool and bathe in it a little’.” I laughed at what I’d said. Sally didn’t. “Discretion and epic writing. Find a hook and roll with it. We all want to know what’s happening in that club. We want to know who is there and what they’re up to. And if they NDA you, which I’m sure they will, we need to work around the legal jargon and create a story that lets us vanilla fuckers—literally—feel like we’ve been in kink heaven with you.” Sally tilted her glasses down her nose and peered at me over the rims of her frames. “You must do whatever is required of you to get that story, Faith. You understand that?”
