Welcome. Enjoy.
Lucy's POV
A journalist writes for the people. Our main goal is to get the truth out to the public. You learn to look for things amazing and will grab the eye in a short few words. We do not have much time to pull people in. Hard news pieces is where I am stuck to tell all the points in about fifty words and try to get people to read all five hundred words are a pain the ass. I strongly prefer to write more entertaining pieces, ones that entertain along with informing. I just want to hook-in readers and give them pieces they would love. I follow laws and ethics; I am not that sort of writer who would snoop where I should not be or fabricate events just to a solid pieces.
We had to knock out stories. We are to just get the information, write the story, go through the process of editing, rewriting and formatting, and then get it published. You were to never get sidetracked. Also you were to never take a bribe. You of course should have friends in the business, but never should personal relationships get in the way of your professional writing. I always listened to those rules. If I were to ever be put in a place where a family matter got in the way, I still pushed on and tried to avoid it being a problem for my job. My family had ways of getting into my life as a journalist.
I had a steady career and got it fast. By twenty-four I had a job as a staff writer at Mangolia Times. I had respect as a talented feature writer. I usually took a more story-telling build approach. Usually you write in a style with hard, to the point stuff at the beginning and the story by the end was wrapped up with not as vital information compared to what was written at the beginning. I wanted to take a more entertaining way, using a mix of creative writing and journalist writer. Still, it is solid fact; it is always solid fact.
Now, what was favorite thing to write about? That would be human rights based pieces. I spend a lot of times in interviews or listening on meetings to get my story on its feet. My favorite day is when I can go to rallies to get the scoop on the subject. However, you do not always get what you want. I did not want to interview that woman.
Let me go into depth. I am just skimming the surface it seems, for I am merely telling you that I dread interviewing a professional dominant known as 'The Titania.' So here's the story…
I stare at the papers on my desk and read through an article written by one of my colleagues. She had her weaknesses like the rest of us. In her story, she was trying to have humor to it. She was made to do a hard news piece even if it did not seem like her. She was a sweet and bubbly person so you would expect that out of her, but the young writer—who was in reality almost two years older than me—was all to the point. So, I was putting in my critiques to try to bring what she barely knew into the story when I heard a loud sniffle followed by a fit of coughs.
I peek over to see a small woman at her desk coughing up her lung into a tissue. Her blue hair was falling out of the messy bun she put it in and she looked pale. She groaned when it passed and slumped against her chair. "You still sick, Levs?" I ask her. Her name was Levy McGarden, the assistant editor and a staff writer. She was also my best friend since high school.
"Yeah…Fraust said I should head home, but I have an interview," she sighed, "and this is my last interview for my Sex Sells piece."
I grimaced at the piece. Now, the title could have been placed on a number of articles ranging many different topics surrounding the central idea. Hell, it would be used to cover serious issues, but she chose to talk about the on-the-rise BDSM scene. It was a piece Levy was disturbingly zealous about. It was well written so far. It would be a shame if she fell short because she was sick.
"You just need this one interview? Do you the questions written down?" I ask her. I would not do this for just anyone, but I know she hates to not finish things she has started.
"Yeah, they're right here." She handed me a small legal pad. I study the neat and small writing, skimming through the questions.
"How badly do you want to publish this?" I sigh.
"So badly! Could you maybe go for me? You just have to ask her the questions and record the interview," she pleads.
"Fine, I'll do this for you. Hey, would you mind if I acted as a nameless partner on this?" I did not want to put my name to the piece, but I loved working with Levy. She has been my favorite person to work with on an article since our freshman year of high school and we took introduction to journalism together. She had solid writing and an amazing editor; she has saved me so many times by catching things that went over my head while proofreading.
"Be my guest." She sniffles and stands up. "I should get home." She pens down the information of the meeting place in the margins of her notes. "Here's the address where you'll be meeting her. If her name somehow gets revealed to you, just ignore it. She wishes to go by her professional alias of 'Titania.'" Titania, her name was after the queen of the fairies from Midsummer Night's Dream? That was a bit odd. "Oh and here's what she looks like." She handed me a folded up picture and left.
I unfolded the picture carefully and studied it. It was of a woman with scarlet red hair. She seemed to have carried herself in a way that made her appear confident. Her facial expression was that off someone sure and proud; it was almost dominant in nature. She had a devious smirk and gleaming eyes. They felt like they saw past my appearance and saw all that was underneath. She had an amazing figure, thin, curved, buxom and toned with tight muscles. I could see such specific details about her because of what she wore in the picture. She had on a faux leather skirt that barely covered her ass, a leather jacket, and a lacy bra. I flushed dark red and squeaked in surprise. "Why do you have this picture, Levs?" I muttered to no one in particular.
I gulped and packed up my bag, shoving Levy's notes and my laptop into it. I should go. The interview is in less than an hour.
Lucy's POV
I walked out of the elevator of the building and checked my phone. I scrolled through old texts from my roommate Natsu. He mostly texted me to request for me to pick up stuff on the way home; he is a damn garbage disposal sometimes.
I walk out of the office building and to my car parked outside. I kept wondering what made Levy want to write this as I made my way to where I was to meet Titania. The address Levy wrote down took me to a place called the Pussy Cat. Why the hell would she pick a club? I thought as I observed the sign. Fairy Tail. That was an odd name for a club. I shrugged it off and walked in. Even though I had my doubts, I still had to check. When I walked in I saw it was empty with the exception of the bartender, a woman with hair that was pure as snow but a face filled with youth and was near angelic, and Titania herself. I was not very surprised to see no one else was there at four o'clock.
Titania looked away from the bartender and gazed at me. "Can I help you?" she asks. Her voice was lower than most women's and was smooth as silk.
"Ahem, yes…I'm from Mangolia Times. I'll be interviewing you. The original interviewer, Levy McGarden, went home sick. We're sorry for the inconvenience," I said slowly, trying to sound composed.
Titania looked just like her picture, with the exception of her attire. She wore a white dress shirt, blue jeans, a blue tie and suspenders. "It's okay. Sit down and we can get started." She smiles at me and I feel oddly cold. It seemed false and in her eyes I could see an irate glint to them. I shiver slightly, feeling frightful and sink down onto a bar stool.
"Is it alright if I record you?" I ask as I pull out my phone.
"I don't see why not." She shrugs.
I look at the bartender. She gives me a kind smile and her sapphire blue eyes sparkle. She seems to be as old as Titania, but not as intimidating. "I'm sorry, but can we have a bit of privacy?"
"She knows what this is about. She was one of the interviewees," Titania says.
"Oh…um, okay! So you know Levy?"
"Yes…she's a friend," she tells me. "I'm Halphas, by the way." The Earl of Hell? "Well, that's my work name."
"You're a submissive?" There is no way such a woman could whip people for a living.
"No. I'm a dominant." She smiles. I look down at the bar counter. Oh Jesus…
"Let's get down to business, please," Titania cuts in.
I pulled out my notes and skimmed through them. I click record and breathe out before starting. "Okay, so how long have you been a professional dominant?" I look up at her. She rubs her chin and ponders it for a second.
"Well…I started as a submissive in a fetish club at twenty. Then after I year I went to the other side and began experimenting with being a dominant. I found it was more enjoyable. I stayed at that club for two years, but then I moved to doing it on a more private setting. I take on clients instead of doing shows at a club and in a public setting. It's been three years since then. So I have been a dominant for five years," she explains and she almost looked nostalgic.
"What's the most important part of the job?"
"Consent, communication and trust; those three things are what I need between my clients and myself for it to work. I have my limits on what I'll do and they have theirs. We never cross those lines and there is always a safe word to stop it all."
"Safe word?" I question.
"It's a cue to stop the scene. You need a safe word, and it cannot be no or stop. Some people are into acting like they don't want something when they do and have an impulse to say no. Usually my clients will come up with a word, but the default is red to stop, and yellow to ease up."
"Why do you think the BDSM scene is suddenly becoming more popular?"
"Well, I think it's attributed to Fifty Shades of Grey. It brought light onto an underground culture in sex," she sighs.
"Is that a good thing?" I click my pen and note her tone of voice.
"Not really. It's not a good light on it if you look at it. Christian does not act as a good dominant. He forced the submissive to be exclusive, he breaks the safe word. She had said it but he kept going. Such a thing is considered to become sexual assault or rape since there is no longer consent. The author did something rare of mainstream romance; she made it not only erotic, but a bondage piece. But it seems like it was romanticizing an unhealthy sub and dom relationship to me." Her voice went from aloof to angered and verging on overzealous.
"Okay…so do you believe BDSM can be therapeutic?" I look up and she seems to fall stoic.
"Absolutely," she says. She shifts and taps her fingers against the bar. "It's helped me get through tough times. It's helped me get passed traumatic events in my past, but it isn't the only thing that works of course and the appeal does not come purely from that need. Hell, I don't recommend it to everyone. It's a thing you do and it helps, but it has actually been proven to help out and heal people somewhat. It isn't for everyone, though. Why I think my profession can be so lucrative at times. It isn't always easy to find a partner willing to follow your whims—to a certain extent."
"Which gender is your most common clientele?"
She laughs. "Women are usually what I get. I am mostly exclusive to women, me being a lesbian dominatrix."
"Oh." She's gay, huh? Wait, are all of the dominants and submissives Levy interviewed gay? I'll have to ask her.
"Anything else?" She asks.
"Yes…would you change profession?"
"Hell no! I love my job; sex sells and it gives me an outlet for my desires, but I've never had relations with people with who I've had professional ties with. We don't do that. That is what separates us from prostitutes, but we still are required to be tested for STDs." They don't have sex? But why did she classify it under that when saying it is so lucrative?
"What are your clients like?" I ask.
She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. "I don't have an answer. You can't put so many different people in a handful of categories. But I suppose that isn't a pleasing answer?"
"Um…not really, no," I tell her, smiling sheepishly.
"Well, that's how it is. You can probably get an answer that pleases you from others, but I don't have an answer for you about it besides that." I stare up at her; something that felt impossible to do for extended moments of time since her aura was teeming with dominance. Her dark brown eyes were staring down at me the entire time from what I can tell. "People are too special to put into the masses. Especially when it comes to sexual desires." Her expression softens are the explanation and she looks more beautiful that sexy in this moment. "Was that all you have to ask me?" Her low voice is gentler than it has ever been and I feel an odd chill run through me.
"No…"I mumble as I flip through my notes. I ask her a few more questions and try to focus on her actions more than I have; I had her words recorded so her actions are what mattered. I usually get every little change of body language down, but not with her. Her voice got me off track. It was assertive and firm, but also smooth and melodious. In the chance I got to watch her I saw how she moved. Every gesture had purpose, from the nervous twitch of messing with her hair when she had to try to explain things to the animated hand gestures she made to show the importance of her words while talking with passion about this whole thing. This was not just a job to her it seemed. It was a life style. She was not ashamed about it. That just seemed so surprising to me. It was a dirty desire, but she did not want to hide it. Besides her alias, she was all out there.
There was something I could not get past; I could not look past her eyes. They were so hypnotic and had this glint in them that I just could not figure out. She did not seem normal to me. Of course she was not, for what normal person could do this?
I sighed as I clicked off the recording. I was a bit disappointed it was over because I wanted to spend a bit more time with Titania. "It's done?" she asks.
"Yeah," I sigh and put all my stuff away.
"So everything else I say is off the record now?"
"If you don't want it on record, then yes I can't legally use it in the article."
"Okay…so how old are you kid?"
"Twenty-four, and don't call me kid."
She looked dumbfounded. "Really? Aren't you held in high-esteem in the journalism world? I've seen your name on numerous articles in numerous papers." I have written several articles for different papers. Just to pick up a side job. It was done by other journalists.
"How would you know?" I grumble.
"I read the papers? May not look like it, but I care about current events. Why I agreed to do this interview; I wanted to try to contribute something." She gets up from her seat and pays her tab. She starts to make her way out.
"What's it like?" I whisper as she passes me.
"Hm?" She stops and looks down at me. I did not notice she was taller than me until then. Not by much, but enough to make me feel small.
"What you do, what's it like for the submissive?" I ask, barely raising my voice.
"You should see for yourself." She gives me her card. "When you stop putting on this pusillanimous act, give me a call."
"This isn't an act!" I hiss as I feel my cheeks heat up.
"Okay, but my offer stands. Hell, I'll give you a discount since you're a first timer." I feel to a point it would become flat out unethical to do this. It felt tempting, but all discouraging. I spent my whole life being taught to keep my mouth shut and keep silent. But here I was in control even if I was giving it all up. To let her take me over and just let go all my worries did not sound so unpleasant. "You can say no. I won't force you. Sort of the beauty of it, nothing will happen unless you give me consent."
"You don't say?" I gulp and tug at the collar of my blouse. I felt unusually flushed and my mind kept racing to thoughts of being Titania's slave. I was putting myself in scenarios I could only read…until now. Now it could actually happen to me.
She grabs her jacket. "Well…I should get going," she sighs.
"Would it hurt?" I ask weakly. Dumb question, I know. I just had a million questions and that was all I could utter. She smirks and chuckles at my naïve persona. She leans in closer to me, her lips near my ear and her breath against my neck. I shiver slightly and she snickers.
"Like I bitch, but that's the beauty of it," she whispers. She leaves, her stride is smooth, like a fairy taking flight and fleeing in the dusk's light. I was left in her wake, a fleck of fairy dust in my hand, a promise to lead me to true flight if I followed it.
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-She Fell for Fiction