Amy blushed a deep crimson.
“What? Why?”
Sally bit her lip, pleased that Amy watched it closely.
“Selflessness is sexy,” she told Amy, practically purring.
Amy quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, in that case…I also regularly donate my blood plasma.”
“Stop it or I’ll start giving the other diners a show,” Sally joked.
Their entrees arrived a moment later: cioppino for Sally and grigliata di pesce for Amy. Under the table, their legs were pressed together. At first, it had been an accidental touch caused by Sally shifting in her seat. But when the contact had occurred, Sally didn’t break it and neither did Amy. Feeling the smooth and hairless skin of Amy’s leg against hers had been keeping her pulse slightly elevated, and though initially Sally had been able to detect a temperature difference between their skin surfaces, with Amy’s leg being a skosh warmer, that difference had since been equalized, with Sally taking on some of Amy’s warmth and Amy taking on some of Sally’s coolness until it was as if the connection between them made them one person.
Deciding to have a little fun, Sally ran her calf up Amy’s lower leg, eliciting a gasp from her date just as Amy was about to take a bite of crab cake. The look Amy gave her—a mixture of fuck me now and fuck me NOW!—made Sally’s clit twitch.
“Um…so…” Amy began, her face beginning to flush, “be honest with me…how likely is it that I can meet your friend?”
Sally knew she was talking about Max and wanting to give Amy a good answer, she considered it for a few moments while chewing on a bite of calamari.
“I already mentioned it to him,” she said. “But I know him. He’s going to want to know why you want to meet him.”
“Fair enough,” Amy said, nodding. “It’s nothing sinister, though. I may not yet be one-hundred percent over the fact that my favorite lesfic author is a man but I’m over it enough to still want to meet my favorite lesfic author. Does that make sense?”
“Totally.”
“I mean, it really is amazing what he managed to do,” Amy went on, thoughtfully. “He’s a guy who wrote books about lesbians that are better than some books written by actual lesbians. How the hell did he do that?”
“Beats me,” Sally confessed. In the days since Max dropped that bomb on her, she had been wondering the same thing.
“Is he gay?” Amy asked. “Because for some reason that makes sense to me.”
Sally laughed.
“Totally not gay,” she assured Amy. In fact, she made a mental note to ask him about Tiffany. He had promised to call her and although Sally didn’t expect that to lead to anything long-term, she still wanted Max to be out there dating.
Amy stared at her.
“Wait…you two never…?”
Sally blinked.
“Oh god no! No! I’ve known I was gay since junior high and never tried to prove otherwise!”
Amy giggled.
“God, that would be quite the story, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “If I was currently fucking the woman who used to fuck the guy who is my favorite lesbian writer?”
Laughing, Sally said, “That would be the best podcast episode ever!” She took another sip of wine. “Oh, by the way…my mom now thinks I’m Jillian Ashley.”
Amy’s eyes became as wide as humanly possible and her mouth dropped open.
“No way! How?”
Sally fudged a little on the details. She wasn’t about to tell Amy that earlier today she had been on a blind date with a hot doctor with a professional connection to her mother. Instead, she told Amy that she had run into a gay friend of her mother’s who had seen Amy’s podcast.
“And you didn’t set her straight?” Amy asked.