Anne Linney's nervousness almost overwhelmed her as she walked to Morris Taylor's room at the Gramercy Hotel Los Angeles. This was her biggest interview to date, and she didn't want to screw it up.
Anne had been working for "Hollywood Nights" for nearly two years. Her colleague/boss Ramiro Gomez, who created the online entertainment program, loved her Adelaide accent and kept on saying how much she resembled Nicole Kidman. Anne was a bit annoyed by the constant Kidman comparisons; she wanted people to know that she got to where she was by working her ass off, not because she resembled a famous fellow Aussie.
Ramiro hired Anne to interview the B-, C- and D-list celebrities, while he interviewed the superstars. However, the "Hollywood Nights" fans were also in love with Anne, and demanded that she join Ramiro in the big interviews. As Ramiro always said, "You've got to give the people what they want."
Anne liked Ramiro, the handsome, muscular son of Spanish immigrants; she often fantasized about what it would be like to kiss him, to run his fingers through his long black hair, to have a baby or two with him. Yet Ramiro had a big mouth; if she slept with him, he'd eventually tell the wrong person about it, and then she'd be viewed not as a serious entertainment journalist, but as his fuck-buddy.
Even if she wanted to, Anne didn't really have time to date Ramiro or anyone else; "Hollywood Nights" produced new episodes daily, and they both worked tirelessly to make the show the most successful online entertainment program in the United States. Apart from the occasional one-night stand, Anne only had time for boyfriends of the electronic variety.
Ramiro was already in the hotel room, setting up the hi-definition camera and lighting; he saved money by serving as his own crew on interviews. Anne loved Ramiro's work ethic, his dedication to the show, his overall confidence. If I didn't work for him, Anne thought, I'd love to go out with him.
Anne opened the door and greeted Ramiro and Morris with a smile. Ramiro was gorgeous as always; his blue suit and tie perfectly complemented his light-brown complexion. Morris was even hotter, his dark, toned body covered by a black leather vest, black shirt and black leather pants. Sadly, he was wearing his trademark silver and black sunglasses; Anne wanted to see his brown eyes up close.
Anne clipped a mic to her light-purple sundress and brushed back her long, strawberry-blonde hair. Ramiro started recording, and for the next twenty minutes they asked Morris about his latest album, "Sex Castle," growing up in Atlanta, the controversy over his sexually charged lyrics, and his expensive divorce from his former wife Trina. Morris wasn't thrilled by the question about his wife, but he was courteous and gentlemanly all the way through.
As the interview wound to a close, Anne told Morris that she saw him in concert in Adelaide during his "Panties Off" tour five years ago, and thought it was the best show she had ever attended. Morris responded with a huge smile and a humble, "Thank you."
After the interview ended, Ramiro reached over to stop the camera-and Morris quickly removed his glasses. Anne winked as she looked into his dark chocolate eyes.
"Hey, girl, glad you enjoyed that show...I fucking love your country. Man, I fucking wish I was Australian. Your country is so beautiful...and the women are so fucking freaky!"
Anne blushed.
"Naw, seriously...I get so much pussy when I'm Down Under...I gotta get security to pry 'em off my dick, man!"
Anne put her pale hands over her face in embarrassment. Ramiro looked at her and smiled.
"And if you don't mind me sayin', you as hot as any of the girls I was with. Hey, girl, do me a favor-can you stand up and turn around?"
"Huh?"
"I gotta take a look at that ass."
"What? I'm a journalist!"
"You a journalist with a great ass. Come on!"
With only a little bit of reluctance, Anne stood up and turned around.
