by Anne Connor
“We do, Ryan,” Kayla smirks. “You know women so well.”
“So the matter’s settled, man. You’ve got to support your girlfriend in her journey, spring for some fancy new lingerie to celebrate the occasion, and have her leave it on the first time she lets you fuck her once she’s post-op.”
“Sometimes I think leaving something on during sex can be hot,” Kayla offers. “So maybe you can get some crotchless panties to go with the new bra. Get one that pads her out to some nice double Ds, and you’ll both be happy.”
“Compromise. It’s what you need to make sex work.”
This is just another day at work for me, and I fucking love it.
“This is Dirty After Dark, giving you answers to all the questions you have about sex and love. New episodes come out every Friday morning at half past midnight. That’ll wrap up the show. Next week, we will be talking live in the studio with a man who…” I trail off and rub my eyes with the palms of my hands as I squint, checking the document I have open on my computer in front of me.
I shoot a look at Kayla and she reads my mind, closing her eyes and nodding slowly.
“...we’ll have a man from Portland who likes dressing in latex full body suits and having his wife and her friends make fun of how small his dick is. Catch you next week. Dirty After Dark out.”
Kayla kills the recording and stands up, stretching her tattooed arms over her head as a few of the interns come into the glass-enclosed recording studio.
“Good show today.” I clap a couple of the interns on the back and walk over to the window. “Tired, Kay?”
“Ugh, yeah.” She pads over in her bunny slippers with her iced latte and joins me at the window. “I got in late. Actually, I got in early.”
“You ever even make it to bed?” I look down at her. She’s like a sister to me. We’ve been working together since before I can even fucking remember, back when we roomed together in New York City before making our way out west to Hollywood.
“Nah. I just showered up and grabbed myself my much-needed drug.” She holds up her coffee and shakes it in my direction, the ice cubes clanking around inside the plastic cup. “My true love,” she adds, taking a sip.
I snap my fingers and go back over to my desk as the interns tidy things up around me, one of them stacking up a few plastic cups from the brainstorming session we had last night to prepare for next week’s show. Shit, I’m pretty fucking beat myself. The interns will clean up the audio for the show, my editor will put all the ads where they belong, and everything will be ready to release tonight at twelve thirty on the dot. I gather up my laptop and walk over to the door, heading back to my office as Kayla follows behind me.
“What else do we have going on today?” We shoulder our way through the plush, tufted purple hallway, covered with framed posters of the recording greats and sex experts of our time and before. We get to my office and I ease into the chair behind my desk and put my feet up. There’s a lot going on right now, and between the show and a few endorsement deals we have going on, it’s a lot to juggle.
“You have interns coming in this morning to interview,” Kayla says, handing me a folder across the desk.
“Shit.” I take my feet off my desk and lean across to take the folder from her. “That’s today?”
“Afraid so. This is the best group of candidates we’ve had so far,” she says, taking a seat in one of the big white leather club chairs on the other side of the desk.
The crop of interns we have now is good, but we’ve had some bad luck with interns. I take full responsibility. I have a habit of wanting to surround myself with beautiful women, but a lot of the interns I’ve hired in the past haven’t had their head in the game. They look good on paper, but then they get here and act like spoiled princesses. It might be a show about sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s all fun. It’s still work, which is what a lot of people tend to forget when they walk through the door. Just because I’ve got a plaster cast of my dick displayed on my bookshelf and our guests frequently include sex educators and strippers doesn’t mean this isn’t hard work at times.
“Have you screened these yet?” I say, thumbing through the pile of resumes on my desk. I flip through, and it’s a diverse mix of recent college grads who want a start in broadcasting and media and, because it’s a paid internship, some older folks who have careers in either sex education or sex work, who just want something different to do. I’m open to both groups.
“Yeah, I went through them,” Kayla responds, sinking back into her chair and throwing her legs over the side, opening her laptop. “You want to review them together?”
“I guess so.” I keep thumbing through, until I get to a resume that looks a little different. “This is interesting.”
Her name’s Sara Montgomery, and her resume jumps out at me. She’s in her senior year of college, with a major in biology and a minor in environmental science. The only job she’s had so far was as a math tutor for the SAT.
“You see this one? Ms. Montgomery?” I grab the resume and slide it across my desk to Kayla.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding her head, eyebrows raised. “I thought she looked interesting. Not exactly the kind of background we normally look for, but I thought she could bring a fresh perspective.”
“I agree.” I tap my bottom lip and turn her name over in my head, imagining what she looks like. Sara Montgomery. It’s got a nice little ring to it. I wonder what she’d sound like with my name on her lips, calling me boss and doing what I tell her. I picture her standing next to me at my desk, leaning over me, saying sign here, boss, pointing to a signature line on the last page of a contract before I grab her by the hips and bend her over my desk.
Shit, but her background makes her sound serious, studious, and just what I need to get some fresh blood pumping through my veins.
“Bring her in,” I say, “and this one, too.” I pull another interesting resume out of the stack and hand it over to Kayla. “He sounds like someone we could use around here, too.” He’s a retired high school health teacher.
Between him and Sara, I have two good candidates - and I’m sure to find someone who’ll give me something different.
2
Sara
I’m in a part of town I’ve never been to, and I’m not sure I’m in the right place. Flipping down my visor, I check myself in the mirror and smooth out the stray hairs around my face, tucking them behind my ears. After reapplying my lipstick and making sure everything seems to be in place, I grab my purse and get out of my car.
The recording studio is located on the twentieth floor of a shiny, new office building just east of downtown, where the sun burns bright against the silver and blue steel and glass shooting into the sky. I’m a few minutes early, so I take my notebook out of my purse and check the address one last time. I’m in the right place, but it’s not what I envisioned. I assumed the podcast was run out one of the academic buildings at the community college, but I guess they don’t have the technology to have a fully-functioning recording studio, and need to rent out space here.
After informing the front desk of my arrival and making my way to the twentieth floor, the elevator deposits me in a sleek, modern hallway with glass double doors leading to a reception desk. I pass through the doors uneasily, but I try everything to make myself look calm, and sure, and like I know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never had a real job before. I suppose this isn’t a real job as it’s just an internship, but it’s something I really want. It’s something I really need.
Once inside, I’m greeted by the receptionist, a tall, young man with a faux-hawk, a short-sleeved black t-shirt, and gauges in his ears, stretching out his earlobes to epic proportions. I walk toward him, and he looks up from his computer and smiles.
“Can I help you?” he asks brightly. He isn’t much older than me and his kind smile reassures me. “Here for the interview?”
I adjust my purse on my shoulder and step forward. “Yes,” I say. “My name’s S
ara Montgomery. I have an interview for one of the internships at the podcast. I think I might actually be a few minutes early.”
“No worries,” he says. “Take a seat and I’ll tell Ryan you’re here.”
The waiting area overlooks the city and the edges of the outer sprawl of the surrounding suburbs, and the view is breathtaking. High up in the sky, I feel if I get too close to windows, to the edge of this safe space, I might tumble and fall and not be able to catch myself. The view is so incredible that I’m distracted and nearly miss how strangely the waiting area is decorated. Instead of the austere sleekness I would expect from a media outlet or the mahogany and tight-lipped reverence I’m used to seeing inside the towers of academia, I sink down into a bright pink, plush oversized couch and a few beauty magazines fanned out on a low, black marble table.
I need this internship, although it wouldn’t have been my first choice. I need to get keep my GPA up during my last semester of college, and I thought taking on an internship for the small stipend and credit hours in place of an additional class would be perfect - I’d get some valuable experience under my belt, and I’d be able to buy gas and lunch without dipping into my meager bank account.
The way this space is decorated is so odd, though. Between the electric pink sofa and the framed poster on the wall next to me detailing the anatomy of the male and female genitalia, I’m starting to feel a pink blush sweep across my cheeks. I cross my legs and try to get cozy, realizing there’s something I like about being here. The flip in my stomach, the nervous heat - it all feels good. It makes me feel a little bit more alive, more present.
And that’s exactly what I need - to feel more. More of anything. I’ve been in an absolute funk since my senior year of high school. It’s just me and dad, and I’ve been supporting myself since I moved out and started college. Being financially connected to dad meant that I wouldn’t be able to get much in the way of college grants and student loans. Turns out that being middle-class means you don’t qualify for much aid, but that being able to afford college without aid is nearly impossible.
“Sara?” I hear my name from down the hall and spot the receptionist waving to me. Quickly picking up my notebook and purse, I make my way cautiously down the hall, through a narrow corridor past the front desk, a few offices, and the empty glass-enclosed recording booth.
Matt and I stop when we get to a sun-soaked corner office with clear glass walls. I don’t look past Matt to the man sitting inside, but I can see a blurry suggestion of him out of the corner of my eye and my breath hitches in my throat.
“This is the boss’ office,” Matt says, gesturing behind him. “He can tend to be a little bit intimidating, but don’t be nervous. He’s a really nice guy.” Matt knocks on the door and a deep voice on the other side of it tells us to come in. “This is Sara. She’s here to interview with you. Need anything else?”
I stand behind Matt and wait to be called forward into Ryan’s office.
“No, we’re all set. Come in, Sara.” His voice is pure and smooth, deep and warm, making my knees go weak.
I step forward into his office - it’s also not what I expected. Large windows on the back wall open up to a panoramic view of Los Angeles, and the floor is covered with dark wooden slats. Where I thought there would a wall lined with bookcases of medical journals and science texts is a poster of Howard Stern. And where I thought there would be a copy of The Origin of Species is, instead, a plaster penis.
My would-be boss turns around from the window slowly, smiling and putting his hand out. He sits down as I shake his hand in a completely professional manner, but I feel anything but professional.
“Sara, it’s so nice to meet you.” He sits down in his big rolling leather chair and I take a seat across from him. “You have a very interesting resume.”
I draw my breath in as I contemplate whether I’ve met this man before. He’s stunningly sexy, with dark eyes and a chiseled jaw. He looks familiar, and I try to place him. I know I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know why I’d have a reason to be in the same room with him. He is walking, talking sex. But I don’t know where I know him from, and I decide I don’t know him at all. He’s just an impossibly sexy man sitting across from me in this fabulous office, and our paths haven’t crossed - until now.
“Did Matt offer you anything?” he asks, throwing a sexy smirk to me.
“I’m okay,” I say quickly. “This is a very nice office. I’m so excited to be interviewing here.”
I try to keep my tone upbeat, even though inside my stomach is churning into a bundle of nerves. And the fact that the man across the desk from me is gorgeous is not helping.
“You are?” Ryan says, his voice dripping with incredulity. “From what I read on your resume, I'm surprised you want to work here. So I guess first I want to know why you want this internship.”
I clear my throat. I knew this question might come up. I don’t have any experience in media, but I still think I’d be a good fit for the show. I have all of the credentials they’re looking for in knowledge of the subject. Plus, I’ve rehearsed answers to every question that I could think of, but the boss is making me feel a little woozy.
“As you can see on my resume, I’m a senior in college, majoring in Biology. I am very interested in science, and more important than that, I’m looking for experience in a field where I will use my degree but be able to learn new skills. Podcasts are an emerging field of media, and I think it would be exciting to get in and learn from the ground up. That’s why I want the internship, sir.”
I smile and exhale as Ryan takes me in with his piercing eyes, sending steady warmth through my body. I’m pretty sure I nailed it, but Ryan purses his lips, nodding slowly before tossing his pen on the desk. He spins around in his chair and faces away from me, and I start to get that pit in my stomach where I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know why.
Maybe I should have exhibited more knowledge of the show. Maybe I should have said more about my very small amount of work experience. Maybe this guy is used to having his ass kissed and I should have said something about how fabulous he is.
“And why should I choose you over someone else with more direct experience?” Ryan gets up, interlocking his fingers and putting his hands behind his head. The muscles in his shoulders and back flex, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger down his body to his ass. I feel a smile play across my face and I try to be serious, knowing that he doesn’t seem happy about my answer, but he’s just too delicious to stop staring.
“Um, that’s a good question. Well, I’m eager to learn. I don’t have any experience with podcasts, but I pick things up very quickly and I think I have an excellent background with the material you cover in the show.”
“The material,” he chuckles. His voice flips up at the end, almost like he’s halfway between asking a question and making a statement. “Maybe I can give you a little quiz to get a sense of how you would tackle some of the material on the show. To see if you’d be a good fit. Because you look good on paper, I have to give you that much. But an internship like this requires something more. I want to make sure you can tackle whatever’s thrown your way.” Ryan turns and paces back over, putting his hands down flat on his desk, looking at me intently. “This morning, we had a caller who wanted advice because his girlfriend wants a breast reduction. He’s afraid he won’t be as attracted to her if she gets the surgery, but he wants what’s best for her. What do you think?”
Ryan sits down across from me again and I look down at my lap, avoiding his eyes. It’s a strange question, but I have an answer.
“I think if he dumps her over this she would be lucky to be rid of him.”
He leans back in his chair and looks at me contemplatively. His expression is infuriating - I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me in his head or if he agrees with me. He does this little thing with his finger, where he drags it down the middle of his lip, tapping a few times. If he is trying to throw me off my game and distract m
e, it’s not going to work.
“Really,” he says.
“Yeah,” I continue. “I understand that looks are a big part of what initially attracts someone to a person, but if he can’t get past it, then he doesn’t deserve her.”
“Interesting.”
“You disagree?” I ask, fidgeting with my notebook in my lap.
“Not at all. I happen to completely agree with you. But in this business, sometimes people just tell the callers what they think they want to hear. I don’t agree with that way of doing things. Do you?”
“No, sir. I think if someone asks for advice, you should give it to them. People are most likely going to do what they want anyway, but it’s the advice-giver’s responsibility to be honest, isn’t it?”
Ryan laughs and puts his hands on his head. “You’re good at this. You gunning for my job?”
I blush and laugh a little. “No, sir. I’m not qualified to do what you do. I’m still in school. Where did you get your doctorate again?”
He smirks and flashes me a sexy grin. A flip inside my stomach goes to my head when his eyes meet mine across the table. If I get this internship, I might be in deep trouble.
3
Ryan
She’s got good answers for all my questions, and she’s the perfect candidate. We go through her resume as I ask her the questions I ask all of my interns. She lobs her answers back to me as easily as I toss the questions her way. She's a good student and a native of California, a product of public schools and an education system that steers women away from STEM fields. She's had the odds stacked against her in that regard, but she chose science when she was in high school and has never regretted it, even when her girlfriends were coasting in college classes of both sexes and she was stuck with a bunch of pretentious and oblivious men who looked at her with a bad case of side-eye when they saw a woman in upper-level chemistry and biology seminars.
