The Interview Of My Career

A few author's notes! First off, this is a work of fiction. None of the events depicted here ever happened, and for all intents and purposes, these are characters and not real people. All the acts taking place are consensual and between adults of legal age. This story is for the purposes of entertainment only. Second off, this is actually my first story! It's just for fun for me, but if you read it and you like it and want more, feel free to let me know! Enjoy.

My phone begins to chime, letting me know it's time to get ready. I tap the "Stop" icon on the screen, and set it back down on my dresser. The truth is, I'm already getting ready. I pull on my brand-new, ink-black gored skirt and tuck my sleeveless, silk, yellow blouse into the waistband and zip it up behind me. As I put my slender arms through the sleeves of a smart blazer, I can smell that pleasant, new-clothes smell coming off the fabric. I'd bought all these clothes just the day before, when I'd learned I'd landed this interview. Tucking my phone into my purse, I head into the bathroom to put on some makeup.

Less than 48 hours ago, my boss gave me a life-changing call. I was sitting in a café, dressed significantly more plainly than I am now, finishing up a draft for an article on my laptop. As a new reporter for the up-and-coming entertainment news publication Catherine Weekly, I was feeling the pressure to get this newest article submitted before the deadline. It's my dream job but, being the new kid in the office, I had been stressing for months over how I could prove myself to the editor and solidify my position on the team. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I jumped as I felt the vibrations against my leg. I pulled the phone out and saw it was my boss, Josephine Wallace, calling me. Heart pounding, I picked up the phone.

"Hey, boss. What's up?" I said, trying to sound relaxed.

Her cold voice came through the speakers, "Bailey, I just received a very interesting phone call. Is there any chance you could make it into the office today? I have something I need to talk to you about in person."

The pounding stopped, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

Had I read the deadline wrong? Did something happen?

My mind was racing, but as it went through every possibility, I couldn't think of a single thing. So instead, I just played it cool.

"Yes, of course. I'll be right in, Ms. Wallace," I said.

"Wonderful. See you soon."

As soon as I'd hung up the phone, I was scrambling to collect my things from the table. The other patrons were watching me. I must have looked insane. I ran out to my car, got in, and started the engine.

I made it to the office in record time. I didn't even think about my outfit, a matching set of comfortable, pink sweats, until I burst into Ms. Wallace's office, out of breath. She took one look at me, and raised a perfect eyebrow.

"Oh, shit," I said, looking down at myself. Then, my eyes went wide. "I mean, shoot. I mean. Sorry."

Ms. Wallace didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "Sit down."

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded, sitting in the chair across from her. My heart was thumping again, so loudly I could have sworn she could hear it.

"I was really pleased with that interview you did a few weeks ago with that screenwriter," she finally said. Part of me was relieved to hear this, but another part of me was confused. What was this?

"Oh. Thanks."

"It seems I wasn't the only one," she continued. "Someone read the interview, and they were so impressed, they called their agent right after. I got off the phone with said agent right before I called you. This celebrity wants you to do a profile on them for the magazine."

Strangely, my heartbeat went back to normal, but now there was a tight feeling in my stomach. Anticipation. I leaned forward, almost falling off the edge of my seat.

"Who is it?"

Ms. Wallace gave a hint of a smile off my inability to conceal my excitement. I could see a little twinkle in her eyes as she told me: "Daisy Ridley."

If I had any cool left in that moment, I lost it when I heard that name. "Oh, my god..."

"She wants to know if you're free tomorrow afternoon to meet. I told her you would be. I assume that's okay?"

"I... yes. Y- Definitely."

"I figured. Your deadline for the Cannes article can be pushed back to tomorrow. If this profile turns out well, it'll be the cover for next month's issue. A good piece on a star of this caliber would be exactly what Catherine needs to get to the next level. All of which is to say: I'm counting on you."

"Thank you, Ms. Wallace. I won't let you down."

"I don't doubt it. But, Bailey?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

She gave me a look up and down. "Buy a new outfit. Something nicer than... that."

I grinned at her joke. "Right. Of course. Thank you."

Which brings me to now. I finish applying some peach lipstick, then check my reflection in the mirror. I run my fingers through my blonde hair and pluck an eyelash off one green eye. Giving myself a quick smile and wink for confidence, I walk out the door of my apartment.

Daisy had requested we meet that afternoon on the set of her upcoming movie. It's apparently a huge project, completely enshrouded in secrecy. I make it to the lot and I am instantly greeted by two security guards. When I flash my credentials and tell them about the interview, they lead me through what must be a very strategic route to Daisy's trailer; I try to sneak peaks around me as I walk, but I can't see anything that would give away any details. No luck on the inside scoop for the movie, but at the very least I can hopefully get a good interview out of Daisy. The security guards let me into her trailer, and one of them says that she'll be done filming soon.

While I wait, I look around the space. It's sparse: there aren't any personal effects, no photos of friends or boyfriends, not even of family. The only thing I can find is a book on a desk next to a chair, a copy of Sally Rooney's

Conversations with Friends

. I'd read the book a few years prior, in college, and seeing it brings back fond memories. I lift it and start flipping through the pages, noticing that like myself, Daisy's a highlighter. Pink strips emphasize sentences, whole sections, even, and the margins are festooned with little notes. Just as it dawns on me that this could be invasive, I hear a bright voice from behind me.

"Hi there," it says.

I jump and turn to see Daisy Ridley herself. She stands half a head taller than me, but more surprising than that is her hair. It's been a couple of years since her last major public appearance, and her hair now falls just past her shoulders. I notice, as my eyes travel down her body, that she still looks just as attractive as ever. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I set the book back down where I found it.

"Sorry, I --"

"Have you read that?" Daisy asks. She doesn't seem upset with me, so I relax a little.

"Y-yeah, a few years ago. When I was in college."

"I finished reading it for the first time this week. I was hoping it'd last me through shooting, but I absolutely devoured it. So, I'm reading it again, and this time I'm taking notes."

"Uh, yeah. I did that, too. I picked it for a book report, so. But -- I mean -- that's, I wanted to mark it up. I, I do that to a lot of my books."

Daisy laughs. "I believe you, don't worry... you mentioned university, just now. I must say, I'm surprised at how young you are. I'd imagined someone with a bit more experience, just based off the article."

"Oh... sorry, I --"

"No, no, I'm not disappointed! I'm impressed. I can't wait to read what kind of profile you write. How old are you, if I can ask?"

"Oh. I'm twenty-four," I say.

"My god! I'm almost thirty, I didn't look that fit when I was your age."

I feel myself blush. Changing the subject, I say, "I feel like

I

should be asking

you

more questions."

"Oh, by all means! Ask away," she says. She pulls out a chair from a small table, gesturing to it as she sits in another chair right next to it.

From there, the interview goes very smoothly. I ask her questions about what she had been up to over the past few years. After

The Rise of Skywalker

underperformed with critics, she had largely dropped off society's radar. There was a brief moment with

Chaos Walking

where it seemed like she might get back to superstardom, but that movie flopped, too. A few months later, and the rumor mill reported that she had broken up with her boyfriend under mysterious circumstances.

Ever since, Daisy has all but disappeared from public life. She's still working, but never on anything huge, and she tells me she actually prefers it that way.

"There's just so much pressure, being in big blockbusters," she says. "I find smaller, more low-key roles just as fulfilling, but without all the bullshit that comes with the bigger movies."

I had been getting more and more comfortable the more I talked to Daisy, and now I decide to be bold and see if I can get some insight into her personality.

"Well then, that begs an important question," I say.

Daisy raises an eyebrow at my newfound confidence. "It does, doesn't it?"

"This current project you're on is the talk of the town, and yet it's all very hush-hush. Usually that kind of implies a level of big-ness for a movie."

"If you're trying to get some details out of me, you'll have to be a bit sneakier than that, I'm afraid."

"No, no! I... the question I mean to ask, is... why come back to blockbusters?"

She raises both her eyebrows this time, and looks down into her lap before answering me.

"That... is not the question I was expecting," she smiles, "but it's a far better one, if I'm being honest. I can see why you're already doing so well in your field.

"All right, I'll give you a little detail about the film: it's a romance film, with bits of historical drama and action, in which I am the lead... with a female partner. Despite being a blockbuster, that type of role... intrigued me. I suppose. So I took it."

This catches my interest. I set down my pen for a moment, and meet her eyes.

"I'll keep that off-the-record," I tell her, "because I just wanna say I think it's super cool that you're doing that. Really, it... it means a lot, to see a movie like that be such a big production. On-the-record, though..."

I pick the pen back up and lean in. Daisy follows suit, and the expression on her face is somehow different than it was before.

"This is a bit of a departure from form for you," I say, "and, I'll be honest, some pieces are starting to come together.

Conversations with Friends

, the lesbian movie, and... the rumors about you and your boyfriend splitting up. If it's alright for me to ask -- I mean, this is a profile, not a biography -- was there something more there than a simple break-up?"

Daisy eyes me, her face unreadable. She's thinking. She props her head up on one arm, drumming her fingers against her cheekbones, smirking.

Suddenly, her foot snakes around my calf and rubs up and down my bare leg. An electric shock runs through my body, and I feel a pleasant tingling sensation begin to radiate out from where she touches me. I can't help but draw in a sharp breath and arch my back, sitting up straight. My poker face is clearly much worse than Daisy's was, and seeing my reaction, she smiles.

"Hm," she purrs, not moving her foot away from my leg, "you know... the lot isn't going to stay open forever. And I think you and I have a lot more to talk about before you're ready to write your profile. Do you want to join me for dinner?"

The numb sensation seems to have reached my tongue now, but I manage to stammer out a quiet "Yes."

The next thing I realize, I'm sitting across from Daisy at some fancy restaurant. She's taken her foot off my leg, but her expression is much more familiar to me, now.

"Sorry, what?" I say. I have no clue what time it is, but I notice that it's now nearly dark outside.

"I was just saying that you've asked me so many questions about myself," she repeats. "I think I'd like to ask you some questions."

I look down at my notebook and realize that it's filled with shakily scribbled notes.

"It's only fair," Daisy says.

"Uh, sure," I say, "Shoot."

"You graduated university recently," she said.

"Is... that a question?"

"It's the start of one. How did you like it?"

"Um... yeah, it was good. I graduated top of my class, actually."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. But all that studying, I mean... did you have much time for a social life? Friends, boyfriends... girlfriends, maybe?"

I feel my cheeks turn red, and I avert my gaze. Like a physical pressure, I can feel her eyes locked onto me, examining me.

"N-not really... I mean, I dated one person, kind of... a girl," I say.

"Mm, really? Tell me more."

"Well..." I hesitate to tell her about Alice. But there's something in me that's urging me to share.

"I was a TA, for this Lit class. It was my senior year, and there was this freshman girl who... we got close. She was -- I mean, is -- really gifted. But she wants to teach, and I just thought that was really cool. And you know, she was... she was nice. I guess you could say I, I like, seduced her. Or whatever."

"Don't be embarrassed. Again, I'm impressed. You don't really strike me as the aggressive type."

"Yeah, um..." I trail off.

"Been a while, hm?"

I drop the pretense. I know what she's doing, and she knows I know. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It just didn't end well with Alice. It was fun, but we were just in different places in life."

"Sure. Makes sense. How was the sex?"

I choke on my water.

"Sorry, was that too forward?"

"No," I croak, "I mean, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Cards on the table, I'm trying to get a sense of what you're into," she says. "I think you're maybe a bit into me, but you're also quite mousy. And it's cute to see you all flustered, but I'm hoping you're hiding a lioness behind that façade."

Daisy's candor sparks something inside me. Now that I know for sure what her intentions are, and have an idea of what she's looking for, I feel even more confident than I had earlier during the interview.

"Like I said, I seduced her. One day after class I walked her back to her dorm, talked with her a bit about Emily Dickinson, and..."

I hesitate again, just for a moment. This is the point of no return. Daisy is right, in my everyday life, I can be "mousy." I'm shy around most people, even members of my family. This soft exterior is a big part of what makes me such an effective interviewer. But around people or in situations I feel most comfortable in, I do indeed become a lioness. Ambitious. Driven. Hungry.

Daisy's got me pegged

, I think, laughing internally at the irony of that statement. I shrug, deciding I'll follow suit and show her my hand as well.

"And I fucked her brains out."

Daisy's poker face cracks, and what I see next is the most beautiful, excited smile I've ever seen.

"You were the dom?" she says. "Tell me more."

"I'd like to show you, if I'm being honest," I grin back.

"I'll get the check."

As we stroll back to her hotel room, I wonder why I was ever so nervous. Maybe it's just because this isn't where I expected the afternoon to lead me. I think of myself as a professional, and while I had always crushed on Daisy since she first appeared in

The Force Awakens

, I never thought of it as more than a celebrity crush. Even in my fantasies, even when I landed the interview, even when I had tried to subtly find out if Daisy was gay, I didn't actually think I'd have a chance with her. That foot around my ankle had pulled the ground of everything I thought was possible right out from under me, and now, even as my flats pad down the cement sidewalk, next to Daisy I feel like I am walking on the blissful nothingness of air. The reality of the situation has settled in my mind as a pleasant buzz, and while we're no longer talking, it feels like we're understanding each other more than before.

"This one's me," she says, as we approach the door to a room on the top floor.

Inside, I can see the suite is probably almost as expensive per night as my apartment is each month. I walk ahead of Daisy and look around at the windows, which extend from the floor to the ceiling, and then outside to the skyline of New York City. She turns the light on, but it's a dim light, so it's still visible past the reflection of the room.

"I could never get tired of this view," I say.

"Oh, don't try and bait me into saying something corny," Daisy giggles.

"Say it," I tell her.

"Ooh. Far be it from me to disobey an order, then...

"I wouldn't ever get tired of my view, either."

"Come over here."

Daisy obeys. Having kicked off her shoes, she strides over barefoot to me, standing to face me by the windows. I brush her hair behind her, letting it cascade down her back, and I rest my arms on her shoulders. Looking up at her, I feel the soft, dark-green fabric of her dress.

"This opens?" I ask. Daisy nods. "It's a shame that there's no other buildings around at this height," I continue. "This would be so much more exciting with a little bit of risk. Still, I think we'll enjoy this."

I trace the dress down to where it meets in the middle and begin to undo the buttons, one a time, slowly, all the while watching Daisy as she watches me disrobe her. Descending with the buttons, I reach the last one, drop to my knees and pull the dress off her. Now face to face with her white lace panties, I look up at her to see her watching me, her brow knitted in anticipation.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"Yes," she breathes.

I shake my head. "No. You're not."

I slide my fingers up her thighs, onto her hips, and under the waistband of her underwear. Then, I slide them back down to where her dress is around her ankles, and now her pussy is out in the open. Wasting no time, I put my lips gently on her clit, and begin to kiss it, gingerly at first, then more passionately, caressing it with my tongue.

"Ohhhhhh yes," Daisy moans. I feel her legs wobble, and I put my hands on her to keep her steady. My eyes are closed, but I can hear sweaty palms landing on the window. I imagine Daisy above me, leaning against the glass, staring out at the city, maybe even seeing the reflection of her own face in the dark blue of the sky.

Might as well give her something to look at

, I think as I dive into her pussy. I lick her lips up and down, mixing my saliva with her juices, and I hear her make another, lower moan as her legs buckle again. I hold her firmly as I stick my tongue inside her, using the tip of it to draw a line down the roof of her canal. Already, Daisy is panting like an animal, the cup inside her mind filling with each second, inching closer and closer to orgasm. Over and over, going in and out, I take a brief moment to look up at her. Her head is pointed down, eyes closed. Not where I want her.

I stop licking and start whispering, my nose rubbing against the cleanly shaved spot above her clit. "I want you to look out the window," I say, breathing hot air between her legs.

"Alright," Daisy says, desperation in her voice.

"Can you see yourself?"

"I... fuck, yes, Bailey..."

"Good. I want you to watch yourself as I make you cum."

Something like a laugh escapes her lips, and she steadies herself against the window, looking at her own brown eyes, at her own agonized, sweat-laden forehead, at her quivering lips.

"Good girl," I say, immediately going back in for her sweet pussy. I'm licking more rapidly now, hearing her voice get higher and higher, feeling her legs tremble and put increasing pressure on my cheeks.

"Yes... yes, yes, yes, yes yes yes..."

Her exclamations devolve into inhuman cries of pleasure as her body crashes into orgasm. I feel her juices again, running like a river, trickling down my chin and my throat. Greedily, I drink it down until the river runs dry. Then, I stand up, wiping my chin with my hand, and I look up at Daisy. Her mind, having dissolved, is now reassembling itself as she catches her breath. I hold up my dripping fingers.