before, to which Mercy could attest. She helped me get into most of them. But what was happening was like an acid dream fairy tale.
Living with the prince, whom I loved, in a house that wasn’t quite a mansion because a dreaded plague was sweeping the land. Loving in secret, because for anyone to find out could bring the whole dream coming down. Bringing up the whole question as to whether it was to keep it secret as if it wasn’t happening or risk it not happening. It was a real melon twister.
I truly loved Tobias and was touched that he wanted so much to help. But there was only one person I could think to call who could honestly help with such a bizarre situation. Strange was literally her middle name.
“Hey there, gummy bear,” Mercy said, her Alabaman mother coming out in full force.
“What if I wasn’t me? That would be embarrassing.”
“And confusing. Have you been reading Foucault again?”
“Just a bit.”
“What can I do for you, dear heart?”
“Need some help with something.”
“Anything in particular?” Mercy prompted.
“D-dirty talk.”
“You and Tobias finally get in the sack?”
“No! I mean yes – what do you mean ‘finally?’”
“C’mon, sugar plum. I’ve seen a picture of the flavoursome buck! He is the personification of sex appeal.”
“Well, yeah,” I conceded.
“If he is as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside, no sane person could blame you for falling for him.”
“I guess not.”
“Guess nothing!” Mercy insisted.
“All right, all right, I concede! The white flag is waving, Grant!”
“Wouldn’t that make you a Confederate?”
“I suppose,” I confessed, not really thinking the metaphor through.
“My point is you’re a lucky bitch and should enjoy it.”
“I do! I love it! I love him! The problem is with the show,” I said, getting to the marrow of the matter.
“What about it?”
“It’s boring, apparently. The ‘digital dates’ that had to be brought in after the lockdown aren’t quite as riveting as the producers had hoped.”
“They don’t want you to flash boob, do they?”
“Not exactly.”
“Good. Not that there’s anything wrong with your boobs. Just a case of a bridge too far, ya know?”
“Yes actually,” I said, mildly surprised.
“What do the sleaze bags want you to do?”
“Phone sex. On camera.”
“Kinky!”
“It will only be with people I say I like after we have digital dates. They won’t show any nudity. I basically just have to talk dirty and you know -”
“Wank yourself silly?”
“You have such a way with words, Mercy.”
“Poetry minor, remember?”
“Touché. Yeah, that’s pretty much what they want me to do.”
“You could pretend? They’re not going to show anything, right? Just keep your hand under the desk and, you know, go through the motions.”
“I-I hadn't thought about that,” I said, trying to imagine it.
“Think about it.”
“I will,” I promised.
“I’ll also send you some of my transcripts?”
“Transcripts?” I inquired.
“When I have a really good, sexy call, I bribe the tech to give me a transcript and audio copy. The man likes his vodka.”
“That would be great! Thanks.”
“Happy to help.”
I actually felt better. It might still be weird, but not nearly so bad. I felt kind of bad about having to flirt with someone else when I was with Tobias, but we both knew it was just for show. In the most literal sense of the phrase. Speak of the Devil.
“Hey,” he said, knocking gently on the bedroom door.
“Hey, babe,” I said, chock-full of warm and fuzzies.
“I was thinking, and you don’t have to do the shoot if you don’t want to. I mean I want to do what’s best for the show, but I also care about you a whole lot more.”
“That’s okay. It’s what I want,” I told him.
“It is?” he asked.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m still a bit nervous because I’m not sure how it will go, but I’m willing to try. Let it never be said that I lived life as a coward,” I said, new courage rising.
“That’s very brave. A-are you sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely. The only hitch is that I’m really not sure how good I am at talking dirty. I mean, it’s been a while, ya know?”
“I do, actually. You could practice with me if you’d like,” he offered.
“Sure, how do we do that?”
“Turn around.”
“O-okay. Are you going to fuck my asshole?” I asked, the thought just then occurring.
“No, not unless you want me to.”
“Not right now, okay?”
“Of course.”
I turned around and got into the lotus position, also known as informally as ‘criss-cross apple sauce.’ I could hear him pull up the chair behind me, our backs gently touching. My