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Matt had always been a bit of a dreamer. He could remember that from an early age his greatest companion had been his imagination and as time had passed and he had gotten older, the strength and complexities of the worlds he created in his mind only grew. They had grown to such an extent that he was, at only 25, a published and relatively successful author. He wasn’t going to be a millionaire any time soon, but he’d amassed a dedicated following in a relatively short time and his stories were more than keeping him afloat.
For all the fantastical things he could imagine, his real passion was grounding his stories in reality, or at least mostly. He had once read somewhere that the best way to write about reality is to allow one impossible thing to happen; it could be a rule, a scenario, a person even, but everything else had to stay within the realms of possibility. He had written about a detective named Serenity Brown who had the uncanny ability to touch an object and know it’s history, framing that ability around the need for the detective to find evidence to prove what they had seen instead of figuring out who was responsible for a crime. Matt always felt this idea was a little unoriginal, but the critics and his fans praised him for his different approach to established ideas.
He’d been interviewed by a few smaller publications and even one local TV station about his inspirations before and how he had come to develop his talent. He would tell them something generic about ‘reading and watching a lot of different things’ and sometimes allude that he wrote stories in his spare time. What he would never do is explain what those stories were about. The truth of where his stories started was something he felt very embarrassed about and he wasn’t about to share that with anyone.
He was sat in a café he hadn’t been to before but that he picked because it was relatively close to his home and had free Wi-Fi for paying customers. Three cups of coffee and a sandwich down and he certainly felt like he fit the description. He considered himself lucky that whilst he was famous, he wasn’t especially recognisable yet which afforded him the luxury of being able to work in public without anyone really paying him much attention. That said he wouldn’t dare write certain parts of his books in a public space.
His stories didn’t shy away from the more sexually driven aspects of human nature and if he was being honest with himself, those were the parts he enjoyed writing the most. Writing them felt like a very intimate and private thing but was also easily the most thrilling part of his story writing process for him. Admittedly, he had had to reign back this aspect compared to his earlier writings, a previous potential publisher telling him that one of his earliest drafts for what became his most successful series was ‘a string of explicit sex scenes with less relevant connecting material than a broken two piece jigsaw.’ This publisher had become the inspiration for a minor character in the book who was generally reviled and an unapologetic jerk.
Drawing inspiration from real people was exceptionally common for Matt. He would never base the main antagonist of his books off of someone he knew, but dotted about his books were little literary caricatures of his friends, family and even people he met in shops and restaurants. He had alluded to this in an interview once not realising that he would then have to explain this to the people he’d written about. No one was especially offended or upset, but it was very awkward.
This was part of the reason he enjoyed writing his stories in public spaces. He could watch people, study their behaviour and characteristics and then create a character based off of that, sometimes visiting the same place for a week at a time just to observe the regulars before moving on to somewhere new. Perhaps a man would walk in wearing the same crumpled suit every day, unshaven and dishevelled and ordering nothing but a black coffee before leaving. What was his life like outside the café? Was he a down on his luck office worker? Was he a compulsive gambler hoping today would be his lucky day? What about a family? Is he in a happy relationship? All of these questions would fill Matt’s mind and by the time he was done, a new living, breathing, walking and talking character would be gracing his pages.
Today had not bore much fruit. The café itself wasn’t particularly busy and no one had really stood out to him. But that was ok, sometimes it took a few days before anyone particularly exceptional would come in and he was willing to wait whilst he drafted ideas for locations and scenarios. The waitress had been very pleasant to him so far and he was considering writing in a small scene that would include someone like her, but he wasn’t 100% certain yet. He barely looked up from his laptop as a woman walked past him, stopped and turned towards him.
“Matt? Is that you?”
Not really used to being recognised, doubly so by name, Matt looked up and saw a buxom and beautiful woman smiling at him. It took him a second, but with surprised delight bonus veren siteler he recognised who it was standing in front of him.
“Ms. Blackwell! So nice to see you!”
“You’re not in school anymore, Matt, I think you can call me Sally now,” she laughed warmly.
Sally Blackwell had started work as a Teaching Assistant at Matt’s school about 10 years ago and whilst she had never directly worked with Matt, her presence in the classroom was always noted by him. Back then she had been a pretty young woman that the vast majority of the boys in his class had fawned after, himself included in that vast majority, and the additional time had only made her more striking. Her black hair and smoky eye shadow accented by her pale skin made her look like a black and white pinup model.
“Of course, sorry Sally,” he smiled back.
“Do you mind if I join you? I don’t want to intrude,” she asked earnestly.
“Not at all, please,” he smiled back, offering her the empty seat apposite him which she took with a short thanks. “Have you ordered anything yet?”
“No, I’ve only just walked in,” she replied. She turned towards the counter and caught the attention of the waitress who smiled and walked over.
“Hi Sally, the usual?” she asked, already writing the order down on her notepad.
“Yes please Mary,” Sally replied.
“Put it on my bill please, Mary,” Matt said, “if you don’t mind of course, Sally?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Sally smiled across the table.
Mary nodded and took the order away.
“So, how have you been?” Matt asked.
“I’ve been well thanks. I did my teaching qualification a few years ago so I’m running the show in the classroom now,” she told him.
“I’m almost sad I’m not at school any more in that case,” Matt said before the realisation of what he had just said hit him and he apologised profusely. He felt like he was that horny teenage boy again for a second that had just said something that could be conceived as highly inappropriate to his teacher. Thankfully, Sally laughed and waved away his concern.
“I would ask how you’ve been doing but as an avid reader of your books I don’t think I have to,” she smiled.
Matt was stunned for a moment.
“Y-you read my books?”
“Yeah, I think they’re great!”
Matt felt his blood run cold. It was bad enough the idea that someone he knew and, to an extent, still had quite the crush on had read all of the graphic sex he’d written about, but what made it worse was the knowledge that like so many other people he knew, he had written a character based off of her into his books. And not just a side character that was barely featured. She was the main character. Serenity Brown was, for all intents and purposes, Sally Blackwell.
“Is everything ok?” she asked, concerned at his change in demeanour.
“Yes, sorry, I er…” he replied, scrambling for words, “I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you’d enjoy.”
“On the contrary, since I picked up a copy of the first one, I haven’t been able to put them down!”
Slowly calming as the realisation that he was probably overreacting swept in, Matt let his artistic curiosity lead his questions.
“Really? What do you like about them?”
“I love the concept and the plots around them, it’s almost like a crime novel in reverse, like we know as the reader who did it and we’re there with Serenity just trying to figure out how to prove it without exposing her gifts, you know?”
Mary arrived with Sally’s drink, which she thanked the waitress for before continuing.
“And I love the character of Serenity Brown. The way she acts, how you describe her, what she looks like, I just feel like I really connect with her, you know?”
“I-is there anything else you like about them?” Matt asked through a nervous laugh.
“Well, I mean yes there is, but erm…”
It was now Sally looking a little embarrassed as Matt suddenly realised what she meant.
“Oh, right! Ok, yeah, no more to be said there,” he fumbled, trying to diffuse the tension with all the dexterity of a brick.
“So do you come to this café and write often?” Sally asked, moving on far more confidently than Matt had tried to.
“No, it’s my first time here actually. I like to write in different places and get a feel for the different people you know? It helps with the characterisation.”
“Of course, I can remember hearing about that in that interview you did. Didn’t you say that most of your characters were based off of people you know?”
Just like that, Matt’s brain flew back into panic.
“Oh yeah, I did say that didn’t I,” he awkwardly replied.
“Well then I have to ask, is Serenity Brown based off anyone?”
Matt felt like he was in a vice and about one turn away from exploding.
“Yeah,” he managed to reply.
“I knew it! So, who is she or was she even? A former friend? A girlfriend?”
“I’d… I’d rather not say if that’s ok…” Matt mumbled.
“Oh come on, she’s the only one you haven’t ever explicitly talked about before! I promise I will keep bedava bahis it a secret,” she urged him.
Matt was frozen in place, unable to reply or even do anything other than stare back at Sally.
“Ok, well I know you started writing this at school, you’ve said as much in other interviews, so it has to be someone you knew back then. Am I getting warmer?”
Matt nodded. In a funny way it really was like talking to Serenity as she often broke information down this way in his books.
“Excellent! Ok, so thinking about how you’ve described her narrows it down a little bit, but she’s not described as being a girl, she’s a woman, and I can’t imagine given half the things you’ve described her doing that she’s a close friend or family member so…”
If his blood had ran cold before, it was practically frozen now as Matt watched the realisation sweep over Sally’s face.
“Is… is she… me?” she asked.
Realising there was no point lying, Matt elaborated.
“Serenity Brown. SB.”
“Sally Blackwell,” she replied, in shock herself.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them.
“I’m sorry Sally. I never thought anyone would ever read my stories, let alone you. I should probably go,” he said, closing his laptop lid.
“No, no, please! Stay. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?” she reassured him.
Whatever Matt thought Sally’s reaction was going to be, he certainly had no idea how to process how she was reacting now. She seemed to be in thought rather than angry.
“How much of her is me? I mean apart from the obvious. Jesus, I can see it now, you have basically just described me whenever you’ve talked about her appearance haven’t you?”
“Most of her is you,” Matt admitted.
“You wrote her as being very promiscuous. That’s not what you think about me is it?”
“Oh god no! She’s just an exaggerated version of you built around my own fantasies!” Matt blurted out. He was beginning to wish he’d just walked away when he had tried to before or better yet had just lied about the whole thing. Bizarrely, Sally just gave out a small laugh.
“All this time I would imagine myself as her, who would have known that all I had to do was look in the mirror?”
“Again, Sally, I am so sorry!”
She raised her hand and halted him.
“You realise of course that I have way more questions for you now? And I think you may owe it to me to answer them, don’t you?”
Matt could hardly argue against that.
“Given what we may be talking about, my favourite café probably isn’t the right place to be…” she continued.
“I live nearby if… if that’s ok I mean…”
“Do you have coffee or should I order one to go?”
* * * * *
Matt’s apartment wasn’t really designed for entertaining guests so he had pulled up a spare chair for himself to sit on whilst Sally sat on his small two-seater sofa. She had been admiring the framed prints of the covers of each of his books whilst he made them both a hot drink and had even joked that the artist had done well with her likeness. Matt had uncomfortably nodded and remained silent. Sat opposite one another now, and barely able to bear the tension, he asked her what she wanted to know.
“Tell me about how your writing process works. Like, when you are writing, is the scene playing out in your head or is it all just words on a page?”
“Typically, the scene plays out in my head first. If I think it’s good, I write it down. If not, I play it again and change a few things until I get it right.”
“And you do that for every scene you write?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“So, judging by the content of your books, you’ve spent a lot of time imagining Serenity having sex then?”
“Yes,” Matt confirmed, before realising what he had just admitted to. He’d told Sally that Serenity was her, ergo admitting he spent a lot of time imagining Serenity having sex was the same as saying he spent a lot of time imagining Sally having sex. It was technically true anyway, but he was still very uncomfortable.
“What has been your favourite scene to write?” she continued.
Matt was confused by this question. Given what he’d just admitted, he would have expected that Sally wouldn’t want to know any more than that. Maybe she was just judging how harshly to react.
“I… er… I like them all,” he said trying to dodge the question.
“I’ve no doubt, I’ve certainly enjoyed them. But what is your favourite?”
Unsure how to proceed, Matt defaulted to honesty.
“Probably the scene from the second book where she gets with Marcus.”
“Really?” Sally replied with a raised eyebrow. “There’s not a whole lot they don’t do if I remember right…”
“That’s probably why it’s my favourite,” Matt mumbled, not wanting to make eye contact.
There was silence between the two for a moment. Sally placed her cup down and spoke.
“Would you be open to a little constructive criticism?” she asked.
Once again unsure what was happening, Matt simply agreed.
“There is actually one part of the books that I think could deneme bonus be improved. Your descriptions of Serenity are great but they’re just slightly off…”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, for instance, how you describe her breasts once they’re out of her bra. They flop to the side a bit in the books, whereas mine actually stay pretty centred.”
“W-what?” Matt replied dumbfounded.
“Hold on…” she said, standing and going to undo the buttons on her blouse.
“W-wait! What are you doing…?!”
“Just bear with me,” she said, continuing to undo her blouse.
The buttons undone, she cast her blouse on the floor and went to work undoing her bra, a black lacey number that was just about concealing her impressive bust. Matt could do nothing but stare, his brain unable to compute what his eyes were telling it. After very little fiddling, Sally’s bra unclasped and she let it fall to the floor. Matt had to concede that she was absolutely right. Her breasts were impossibly perky and centred for their size and showed no signs of sagging at all. Or at least Matt would have thought that if his brain was able to do anything at that moment.
“See what I mean?” she said, as nonchalantly as if she was showing him a small detail in a holiday photo.
Matt managed to make a noise that was barely a response, but Sally continued anyway.
“The other thing is,” she said walking towards Matt who was glued to his seat, “how they feel should be described differently as a result.”
Before he could react in any other way, she took hold of his wrists and placed his hands on her breasts. His stupor finally broken, Matt fought the urge to squeeze and fondle and play with them and pulled his hands away.
“It’s ok Matt…” she began.
“S-sorry Sally, this is just way too… I-I mean isn’t this wrong or something?”
“Can I be honest with you Matt?” Sally spoke to him. His eyes met hers and she continued. “I thought long and hard on the way over here about whether I was mad or disgusted or whatever with you. I think you know that would be a reasonable reaction to all this, hence why you’ve clearly been terrified since we walked in here. The idea too that all this was in your head when I was in a position of responsibility over you is very problematic. But I haven’t been in that position for almost seven years now and your first book wasn’t fully released until a year or two ago.”
She gave him a moment to think about that. She wasn’t lying to him and nor did she want to force him to do anything he didn’t want to, even if it was hard to believe he didn’t want to after the kind of things he’d written about her.
“I have to say that I have enjoyed these books in more ways and more times than I care to mention. And now I know that they’re about me, or at least that the main character is meant to be me, and that you have spent all that time and dedication giving every pleasurable sexual experience you can to her, I’m actually a little flattered. And I think it goes without saying, pretty turned on.”
Faced with a topless, beautiful woman in front of him, the woman he’d been dreaming about all these years and he knew it, Matt had to force himself to respond in some way other than just wordless drooling. He was better than that.
“Is… is this actually happening? It feels like a plot from one of my books…”
Sally laughed slightly.
“It does now you mention it. But yes, it is happening. If you want it to.”
Matt had no doubt in his mind that he wanted it; he wanted it so badly. Yet he couldn’t just take the plunge. He felt he had to be certain.
“You’re completely sure about this?”
“Yes! Look, I’m single, I assume you are too right? I appreciate you are trying to do the gentlemanly thing but as a bit of advice when a woman has already told you yes, has stripped half naked in front of you, has placed your hands on her breasts and has done all of this under only the influence of a coffee, either you’ve drugged the coffee or she means it. Now, have you drugged this coffee?”
“N-no! I would never!”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “So?”
Matt paused for a moment.
“A-and you’re definitely sure?”
Sally rolled her eyes before leaning forward placing her hands on Matt’s shoulders and kissing him. She felt his shoulders tense but it took little time for them to drop and relax as he began to kiss her back. After a minute or so of just simple, no frills kissing, she pulled away and looked into his eyes.
“So, are we doing this?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” he finally said.
She smiled and took a step back. Scarcely able to believe his eyes but no longer willing to question if what he was seeing was real, or to really care for that matter, Matt watched as Sally carefully removed the rest of her clothes. Looking her naked form up and down he suddenly realised no amount of imagination or clever turn of phrase he had ever made about Serenity did Sally any justice. Even though the Sally he imagined in his head had always been the woman he had said goodbye to in passing once he left school at 18, the woman before him now blew her out of the water. The phrase that kept sweeping his mind was ‘womanly’, a wide pair of hips and shapely thighs complimenting her plentiful bust. If this wasn’t heaven, he wasn’t interested in what was.
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