A woman on the screen in slow motion is wantonly sucking a cock, lightly tracing the man's balls and ass with her scarlet fingernail.
It's me alright.
Barbara leans forward in her chair and brings her hand to her mouth. In a few seconds the woman on the screen opens her mouth a little and pulls back. The cock erupts into her mouth. Cum floods her tongue and lips.
That slutty girl on the screen never flinches; her eyes never lose eye contact with the guy. His sperm cascades out of her mouth and drops off her chin onto her breasts. She uses her free hand to rub the sex lotion into her tits while she keeps probing his ass and fondling his undulating balls with her other. She drinks his stuff like it's milk.
It's me alright.
Barbara stares at the screen amazed. "Oh, my God! Is that you?"
My first thought is that I have gone way over the line. Barbara will never represent me now. My strategy was to be honest. Show an agent how I work, my process, and she might sign on to sell my stories to sex trade publications. This agent's mouth is wide open. I'm sweating my idea now. But I've come this far and I see no way to back out.
"This is how I work," I say as the scene transitions to a hot scene with Jeff, his girlfriend Amy and me. "Just like this."
I slip my skirt off and lay it neatly on the plush chair arm. I don't have panties on. I reach beneath the chair and pull out a towel which I spread on the seat.
"I just slipped this back on to answer the door," I explain to Barb. Sbe just nods numbly.
There is definitely no way to go but forward now.
"Shall I go on?" I ask.
Barbara looks at me for several seconds. Her eyes scan my face and then drop to my naked bottom. I half expect her to walk out, or say something about my professionalism. Instead, she breaks into a smile and says, "Oh, please go on."
I give myself a relieved sigh. "Well. I can never separate my work from my life. That's why I think my stories are unique. They're, well, real. Not in the sense that everything I write necessarily happens, but that I am fully engaged in writing them. For instance, I am sure I have come at least once during every story I have ever written. I wish readers could know that. I get off every time they do."
Without thinking, my hand drifts down to my pussy and settles in my slit. "So, I just settle here each morning, and turn on some visual cues, and get into sex."
We both turn to the fucking on the television and watch for awhile in silence.
"Then I just sort of talk through the story. I make up stories," I say. "Like this:
"Amy, well, Amy is her real name," I admit, "is on her knees on the bed, her elbows on the pillow. Jeff is working his dick slowly in circles around her cunt and ass, smearing his clear lube all over her. She is arching her bottom toward him. I crawl to Amy's face and we tongue fuck."