Summary: Journalist Bella Swan has been drafted to write the Women's Choice Porn Stars of the Month article. What happens when she meets Mr. Sex God one day and Clark Kent the next?


By the time I got home from my brunch turned lunch turned shopping trip with Alice, it was already mid-afternoon. I had dinner with Ms. Sticky at six thirty, and now I was rushing to get my interview details in a perfect outline so I can put it all together later.

I felt bad for Alice, though. Like a puppy… she just wanted a friend and who am I, Isabella Swan: Loner Extraordinaire, to deny her friendship? I should be happy someone wants to be my friend. My life was lonelier than I ever thought it would be. Well, aside from my cat Snacks and Rosalie… and my parents. After college, all my friends and I went our separate ways. Others went on with school, others moved, and others just lost touch. The only real friend I had was Rosalie, the woman who has stuck by me since I was a stupid freshman and she was an already well-rounded junior.

She was there when I got my heart broken, she was there when my father got sick, and she was there to ease me into Women's Choice when I was not only desperate for a job, but desperate for a place of my own. She's been my solid rock, and I'd like to think I'm hers too. Adding Alice to the pack couldn't hurt. In fact, it'd make our nights crazier judging from how my day went.

When I finished the outline, it was already six. I rushed to the bathroom and took the fastest shower ever. I did my make up simple, not having enough time for anything else, and then started dressing. I chose a black, fitted cocktail dress with matching pumps. Oh, and of course my power-panties. You can't meet women like Vicky Sticky without wearing the panties that give you the most confidence. My hair was a bit more difficult. After drying it, I straightened it as fast as I could. Unfortunately it doesn't always work that way, so I had to take my time with each strand of hair. Once that was done, I grabbed a small purse and a nice, warm coat and bolted for the door.

I arrived at the restaurant right on the dot at six thirty. When I entered, I gave my name and was briskly escorted inside to a table near a huge window overlooking the ocean. As I was getting situated in my seat, I could see the scrutiny behind Vicky's eyes.

Well, fuck that bitch; don't roll your eyes at me…

"Hello! I'm Ms. Swan, very nice to meet you Mrs. Hunter." Winning smile, Bella, give her your winning smile.

"Hi."

"Ah… should we order? I heard that the steak here is divine."

"I'm a vegetarian, Ms. Swan."

"Oh… I'm so sorry, I read your bio a few nights ago, it never said anything…"

"Oh, so I assume you Googled me? Found my Wikipedia page?"

"No, Mrs. Hunter, I read the bio that you provided…"

"Well, I didn't write it!"

"Okay, I'm sorry… A salad it is."

This bitch was fucking insane… and she fucking looked it too. Victoria Hunter was a wild looking woman. She was tall, her red hair was long, curly, and crazy, her boobs were fucking huge, her wide, jade eyes were masked by heavy eye makeup, and small, puffy lips had that certain bitch grimace that girls used too often. She looked like the mean girls I knew in college except for the fake tits.

Victoria refused to pick up the menu; she just kept sipping her pink cosmopolitan while I threw suggestions at her. What a pretentious fuck. When she agreed to some soup and a salad, I was already pissed. I ordered myself a scotch, the steak, and a side. When my drink arrived, I eagerly drank it down.

The rest of the night continued. This interview almost took as long as the one with Alice. Victoria liked to insult, shoot down, and belittle. She was an old-school bully. It was not only frustrating, but great. I don't think Victoria realized that what she throws at me will be reflected in the article. My job is to write about what I know. And what I know about Victoria "Vicky Sticky" Hunter, is that she is a mega bitch.


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And find time to write!