Author

I cleared my throat and made myself stand, though I couldn’t make myself walk. “Mr. Biersack, Ms. Simms had some business to attend to. She asked me to wait here for your arrival.” Andy turned the corner, and I froze.

“Oh, shit. Sorry I’m late.” He extended his hand, and I took it, forcing myself to shake firmly. “I’m Andy, I mean, officially, hello! You must be (y/n)?” I nodded, then resolved not to stare and looked at the floor. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, is it alright if I grab a drink first?” I nodded at the floor. “Would you like anything? Water, tea, milk, whisky…”

I smiled and cut him off, “Ms. Simms gave me some tea, thank you Mr. Biersack.”

He snorted, grinning. “Andy, please. Please.” Fuck. Anything you say. Ugh.

Soon enough we were settled, and I had decided to just get the most heinously uncomfortable shit out of the way, right away. “So, Andy, have you read anything I’ve written? Do you know, um, the sort of tone it tends to have? Frequently?”

He smirked at me. “I think I know what you’re getting at. Yes, I have. I haven’t read most of your stories in entirety. I hope you’re not offended, I’m just busy. But I’ve probably either read, or had Juliet read to me, every sex scene you’ve written, at least three times.” My eyebrows shot right off my head. “Every time you post one, Juliet rides me raw, (y/n). She’s a big fan.” He shot me a look, and I felt my temperature rise. “So am I.” Breathe, I thought. Oxygen is required for consciousness.

“I see. So you both are interested in me writing that manner of story about you?” Andy nodded, then went on to talk about the destigmatization of sexuality and erotica, and how those terms weren’t exclusive of the involvement of love. He was really well spoken, and I didn’t disagree with him. I tried to counterpoint him- he and Juliet already received so much hate, I didn’t want to contribute to that by writing a semi-biographical erotica about their relationship. His response was classic: fuck what other people think, we are doing this for ourselves, for the sake of art, and because we want to. The conversation went on, and by the end of the debate, I was actually sold on wanting to help them with their insane idea, though I had no idea what they’d do with the story when I was done with it, and I told him so. No one would ever publish it. At least, I didn’t think so. He just grinned.

I was getting more comfortable, so I told him a sexy smirk would melt teenaged hearts, but I would still expect to get paid, whether he could sell it to a publisher or not. Andy liked that a lot. Nevertheless, he said he guaranteed I would be paid for today and however long it took me to do research to decide whether I’d like to take the project on, then we could negotiate a contract. We shook, again, firmly, and he was still smiling. I realized I would have to change my panties when I got back to my hotel.

Alright, I thought, on to research. I steeled myself for this and decided, once again, to get the worst part over with. “Ok, Andy. You’ve read my stuff. If you’re serious about this, then you know you need to answer the questions I’m going to ask honestly.”

“Of course.” He was looking at me steadily, expectantly.

“Describe your cock, both when it’s soft and hard. Be specific. If it’s on the smaller end, I won’t mention dimensions, but if it’s above average, I will.” I got cheeky and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Andy actually blushed. “Um, fuck, I honestly don’t know for sure. I’ve had women say it was large, but I haven’t measured it in some, oh…” Right. Bullshit. Small cock it was.

“It’s ok, Andy, your secret’s safe with me.” I winked at him. No big deal (literally). Girls got the job done with no dick at all, I don’t know why men were so sensitive about it…

Andy rapidly got flustered, “No, I’m serious, ask Juliet, shit, hold on!” He whipped his phone out and called her, clearly terrified I was going to tell the world he had a small penis. Poor guy, I would never do that. “Jules! Fuck, thank god! (y/n) thinks I have a small dick!... No, no she hasn’t seen it- …I just can’t remember… Maybe 16 or 17 years old, I don’t know… Like, how big do you think?... No, she wants, I mean, precise measurements!...Are you fucking serious, right now?...*chuckle*…fuck, baby…you’re such a kinky girl sometimes, I swear, I don’t know how I get in these situations…I’m not going to assume every pretty girl…I said maybe, and that’s all you get!...we’ll see, ok?...Mmmm, maybe Chinese?...No, I fucking hate that place, the other one, the one with the green logo…ok…love you too, dragonfly.”

Andy hung up and looked at the ground for a minute, fussing with his hair, before putting his phone back in his pocket. He looked up at me, smiling sheepishly. “Well, I can’t stand the idea of you thinking my dick is small, and Juliet only had really general estimates. So… Would you like to help me measure it?” My eyes bugged out. I pointed at his pocket, trying to indicate Juliet. “Oh! No, no- it was Juliet’s idea.” He shook his head. “Trust me, you have no idea. Juliet, uh, well... I guess, as you’ll quickly discover over the course of your, um, investigations into our relationship, has some…” Andy paused, looking for the right words, “interests, some proclivities, that I don’t mind indulging her in.”

He looked at me, friendly, animated, and a little… feral .“So, are you game?” He licked his lips and I found myself nodding. “Great, I’ll go get a ruler!”

Notes

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