Harper possessed a rare talent - she could blend two worlds that the universe swore could never coexist: her humdrum life as an accountant by day with her steamy famous alter ego crafting erotic tales online by night.
But her double life unravels...
❝Gimme some pizza Gimme some pizza baby oh Gimme some pizza❞
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My phone buzzed for the hundredth time on the dashboard of my car. And for the hundredth time, I ignored it, continuing my directionless drive into another New York neighborhood as my mind continued to reel from the events of the day.
My decision had been final—that much hadn't changed. Even with Robin taking me aside and trying to make me reconsider my grand declaration in a futile twenty-minute discussion. In the end, he'd respected it, as torn up as he was about my leaving. However, during our little tête-à-tête after the 'disciplinary meeting', my boss of six years made an unexpected confession.
"My wife and I are actually huge fans of your work," he'd whispered, eyes darting around to make sure the coast was clear while his ears turned a shade of pink I'd never seen before. "We've followed your writing for years. In fact, she's a romance writer herself and a big, big supporter. I think you might have seen her on your Patreon actually."
The revelation shattered the mentor-mentee divide that had defined our relationship all this while. As he gazed at me, eyes filled with fascination and awe, it was the gratitude that struck me most.
"I know it might not be entirely appropriate to tell you this Harper, but you have no idea the kind of impact your work had on rekindling our marriage."
A couple of years ago, I knew the boss had been struggling with some kind of marital issues. Crass rumors had floated around the office that his new marriage was edging toward a divorce due to his time spent at FinTrix rather than at home. It came as a relief to his closer subordinates when those rumors had amounted to nothing.
"I've always been an avid reader but erotica and women's fiction is something I used to look down on, to be honest. I figured it's just 'ChickLit'," he'd continued in a gush.
"It isn't," I'd interrupted. "It's anything but. I feel like more men should be open to exploring their sexuality through literature, as opposed to the explicit visuals we're all bombarded with as a society online."
"That's what Marissa said too! After she introduced me to ErosInk, I realized how wrong I was. I prefer your writing to half the stuff that's out there with porn, to be honest."
On any other day, I might have fainted with joy. On one hand, my identity had been forcefully exposed, a blatant invasion of my privacy. But on the other, my stern boss, a 42-year-old corporate accountant, not only loved my work but believed it made a difference.
I couldn't quite process it, forcing a tepid smile to my lips even as Robin insisted I come over for dinner one night and meet Marissa.
"She's a huge fan," he repeated, one too many times, as he escorted me out of the conference room and back to my cubicle. The office was mostly empty, with the morning still in its early stages.
