Billie's Writing Status Soars

They talked and got along reasonably well and finally he said his girlfriend had been away for three weeks.

"So that thing's not getting exercise?" she said unwisely.

They were on bar stools facing one another and she stared at his crotch.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing really," she said, feeling a little horny.

"Do you want to find out if I'm better than my two brothers and dad?"

"I've not been near your father," she said indignantly.

"Ah, now I know you have had sex with my brothers."

She colored.

"Come on Billie, let's have a quicker in the men's toilets.

She couldn't believe he'd just said that.

"What over a hand bowl?"

"No, I'm not an exhibitionist."

"No way," she said, making the mistake of turning and looking at the passage leading to the toilets.

"I have a condom."

"I bet you haven't."

He reached into his wallet and dropped a wrapped condom on to the bar beside her elbow.

She panicked, grabbed it and stood to leave but Ryan was so quick and reassuring.

"Come on Billie, be a real pal. My balls are turning blue from non-use."

He had her by the arm and they were into the passage before she realized it.

"I-I don't know."

"Well I do," said the 28-year-old. "It will be great experience for you."

"Experience?"

"Yes, it's all part of your growth as a woman?"

"What?"

"Let's not bother with semantics darling. Here into this booth."

He locked the door and Billie was astonished at the size of the dick Ryan pulled out. She watched him roll on the condom thinking almost in alarm that she was about to get that shoved into her.

"Are you right?"

She swallowed and said yes but he was not to touch her asshole.

"I don't do anal," he sighed and she felt reassured.

"Remove your panties and then lean over, bracing yourself on the toilet seat."

She felt full when he pushed in, taking his time after having licked her pussy and then used spit to wet the condom.

"You have a pretty cunt."

What was pretty about a pussy?

At that moment, Ryan pushed all the way in and ordered, "Push back and me when you feel me beginning to push forward into you each time.

"I know what to do," she said indignantly and he said he doubted that.

That made her mad and she pushed back with gusto and soon had him panting and saying, "Oh shit, oh shit. Oh baby, am I going to get my rocks off."

He gushed into the condom big time and Ryan looked hugely pleased with himself.

"Clean up while I look outside to make sure the coast is clear," he said, acting like a gentleman.

Minutes later Billie was on her way home promising herself never, never would she act like such a slut again. If she hadn't felt beautifully fucked, she would have been really angry with herself.

She missed her bus that was about to leave, being so busily composing an unlikely telephone conversation with her mother, thinking she'd say, 'Guess what I did today mom? I allowed myself to be fucked in the men's room at a bar' and her mom would scream she was coming to Philadelphia to thrash her daughter.

"Hey wait," she yelled running for the orange and white bus but the driver pretended he'd not seen her.

* * *

As part of second-year writing studies for students, Eva and Billie wrote short stories that were among selections for an omnibus published on fiction closely related to Philadelphia's historically rich past.

The volume reached best-seller status in the city for six weeks and several book reviews commented favorably on Billie's fictional character, bigamist Captain Bertram Wiltshire who was credited with great foresight in 1924 as being the first person to envisage the comprehensive development of the city's Delaware River waterfront into one of the world's great integrated urban redevelopment projects.

One influential literary critic wrote, "The belligerent and hard-drinking, womanizing former seafarer Captain Wiltshire, who was only five foot three inches tall and who became a hugely successful importer of spices and whisky, is a character depicted so graphically that he almost appears to come out of the pages at the reader. Young author Billie Summers, in her second-year of literary studies, has the signs of another young giant emerging from Penn University. This girl appears to possess raw talent galore."

Billie was agog when she read the review in the morning newspaper, not because of the extravagant praise but because she was called an author and was identified publicly as having raw talent.

"Omigod," she almost whimpered and lifted her head to find Susan and Colin looking at her proudly.

Susan said gently, "Go phone your mom and read the review to her."

Billie chose to be evasive and said her mom wouldn't be interested.

"And who are you attempting to kid?" Susan said. "Off you go."

As soon as Billie finished reading the review, her mom burst into tears. Almost thirty seconds past before Billie could understand what Janice was saying to her.

Two days later, a New York publisher, who'd been born and raised in Philadelphia, contacted Billie.

"Hi Billie, I'm Sam Sorenson, representing a publisher in New York. I got your phone number from one of your professors."

"Hi, Mr Sorenson."

"Calling me Sam will be fine. I've read your story and have spoken to the publisher and she has no problem with my proposal and is giving me the assurance in writing that she is happy for us to engage you to write for us. I wish to commission you to turn that short story into a 200,000-word novel."

The astonished student blurted, "Why?"

"Because people will line up to buy it, that's why."

Billie didn't quite know how to reply to that but commercialism won through.

"How much?"

"An advance of ten grand."

"Payable immediately?"

"Yes, if you commit to finishing your draft manuscript in six months from today. That period covers your summer break. If you can produce the goods for me you could well walk away with at least a hundred grand on this project when royalties are apportioned. You have created a fabulous character Billie but you must take care not to get your other characters larger than life."

"I hear you Sam. So, what now?"

"I'll be in Philly this weekend to visit my grandmother who's in a retirement village. I'll be staying at the Omni on Chestnut."

"I know where that is."

"Say 6:00 for drinks and then dinner?"

"Might I suggest we meet at 5:00 in the lobby and stroll through Independence Park and you can tell me about being in Philly as a kid and things your father and your grandfather told you."

"It will be cold outside. I'll do better, I'll get a list of old living identities from my mother to use as part of your research to ensure authenticity."

"Do that Sam but I also want you to walk with me through the park listening to you talk about growing up here."

"No, I suggest this. I'll collect you at 2:00 with my grandmother and we'll drive through the older parts of the city and past the landing and both reminisce but my recollections are outside of your twenties and thirties era."

"I'm astute enough to know that my necessary research will mean talking to far more than two people."

Sam laughed and said good thinking, to email him details of where to come for her. He said he'd bring a contract with him.

"And a check?"

"Yes, if you sign on Saturday."

"Then email me a copy of the contract."

"Are you short of money?"

She said no but her parents were struggling to pay down debt on their small ranch resulting from a drought four years ago that lasted two years. She wanted the check made out to her mom Janice Summers who handled the ranch accounts.

"You're a good kid thinking that way Billie. Can I trust you to exercise your raw talent to capacity to produce a good book for us?"

"I promise sweat, blood and tears:"

"In that case your advance rises to $30,000. We don't want your mom and dad busting their guts to save the ranch."

Billie was staggered and felt the urge to bawl her eyes out. But she knew she needed to sound adult about this. "Sam thank you and I really mean that."

"And thank you. I'm taking a gamble with you, being our youngster author by seven years."

Arriving home that afternoon, Billie printed out the draft contact and when she joined her aunt and uncle for drinks, she handed the document to Colin and asked him to look it over. He said he'd scan thought it now but would read in carefully after dinner.

Susan asked, "What is it?"

"Some publisher is offering Billie a contact dear. Jesus!"

"What is it?"

"Billie is not a published author and yet she is to receive an advance for thirty grand."

Susan gave a delighted cry. "Darling you can afford to go to Europe this summer."

"No, I should be using that to pay off my debt to you guys but I'd like to know your opinion of the alternative and that is for me to send this money to mom and dad to allow them to reduce their bank loans?"

"Do the latter," Susan said. "You are such a lovely darling. "Colin?"

"We have told you Billie that Susan and I wished we'd had a daughter to send to college and then along you came. The $40,000 we'll spend on your education to meet the shortfall after scholarships is not a loan; it's a gift."

"But I can't..."

"Darling, forty grand is chicken shit to what Colin and I rake in as income during a year. Be grateful, just accept it and be lovely to us as we age."

Billie eyed them both and noticed they were watching her intently. She choked a little when she said, "Okay that's a deal. I do regard you guys as my first equal family along with my parents."

"Get the champagne Colin," Susan sniffed. "With that declaration we truly have the daughter we've always wanted."

Billie called her parents and told her mom she'd be sending them thirty grand next week that she was getting paid in advance for a book, and she wanted them to pay off some of their loans with it."

"Thirty thousand? Omigod," her mom screamed and became incoherent.

Billie's dad came to the phone, he heard and understood what she was on about and said, "You're a really great kid Billie, just the best."

* * *

Billie waited in the lobby for Sam confident he'd recognize her. Rather than say what she'd be wearing she'd said she was a slim six-foot blonde. She waited patiently and slowly became aware she'd never seen so many six-foot blondes in one place, ever. Fortunately, not many were slim.

"Hi lovely lady; how much do you charge?"

Billie was disappointed. Publisher Sam Sorenson was about five feet six with blue stubble and an unsightly beer belly. She was about to say, "Hi Sam" when a lean blond guy as tall as herself and wearing an Italian-cut slate gray suit and purple tie snapped, "Beat it you jerk. Fancy talk to a lady like that. I ought to kick your ass."

As the guy scuttled away the gentleman who looked cool for a guy in his early forties said, "Hi Billie. You look really great. That midnight blue dress really suits you. Gran loves that color. Are you ready to leave?"

"Um, do we kiss?"

He grinned and said he guessed so and kissed her and, without being invited, gently stroked down a breast. God he's out to have sex with her now he's seen her, Billie decided, remembering her pledge to never again act like a tramp. She removed the offending hand only it wasn't offending her.

"It is lovely to meet you Sam. My legal adviser has said to sign the contract but I must check that the lines he's underlined in the copy are exactly that wording in the copies we are to sign."

"Oh, that's fine. So, there's no need for me to wine and dine you this evening?

Billie's face fell and he grinned, "Just joking. I'm the youngest of three and have a younger brother and sister who are twins just like you. Mom calls me the Peter Pan of the family because I never seem to want to become an adult."

"That's very good isn't it?"

"Very good. I have picked up Gran already to save time because she'll wish to stop somewhere to have afternoon tea to make it feel like a real occasion going out with us."

At the end of a lovely afternoon with Sam's quite aristocratic grandmother Julia, who proved to be amazingly fluent and a mine of information. Sam dropped Billie off to dress for dinner and to meet him at his hotel at 8:00.

Susan had worried about Billie going to a hotel alone to meet a man for dinner that late but Billie said, "It's okay. I feel I can trust him and if he invites me to stay, I'll probably do so. Wouldn't you?"

"Uh, um..."

"No, I didn't think so," Billie giggled. "You are just like mom."

Sam proved to be delightful company, offered Billie to contact him whenever she had a problem about anything and required a mentor, and throughout the evening kept his distance and sent his young investment writer home in a cab, leaving Billie wondering if Sam were gay but then she thought no, he was loyal to the woman he was living with or preferred his women to be mature.

She then though perhaps Sam preferred both, loyalty and maturity between himself and his partner. That gave her something to think about.

Billie worked on her novel and found she was able to incorporate some of her university studies on such things as characterization and research into her novel writing. She was a month late submitting the final chapters but Sam called her to congratulate her and said he'd advised his editor working with Billie to allow the student six weeks latitude in finishing.

Sam chatted for a few minutes and said, "It's looking pretty good but we'll get back with suggestions where some rewriting in necessary to add gusto to the novel."

The call ended with Billie despondent, wondering why the manuscript would need to be 'lifted' when she'd poured her heart and soul into that writing.

That night her Foster father' Colin noticed the lassitude and said, "What's up baby, guy trouble?"

"Please may we discuss this in your home office Colin? I don't want Susan involved because I'm already emotional about this and need pragmatic counseling."

A couple of months earlier, Colin and Susan had urged their niece to drop the titles of aunt and uncle.

Colin listened to Billie relate Sam's comments and her reaction to them.

"Well what do you think, pragmatically?"

"Well you won't like this because you appear determined to think the worst. In my analyst, I believe you have over-reacted because the praise about the short-story version went to your head, leaving you feeling you were practically bullet-proof as an emerging writer. Notice use of the word 'emerging'?"

Looking a little confused because she was thinking this was not what she'd expected to be hearing, Billie nodded and frowned.

"You are in your apprenticeship as a novelist. There will be so much to learn and that takes time and experience."

Billie really didn't hear the last few words. She'd already accepted the concept that she was an apprentice, a thought that had not been implanted when she began the draft novel.

"Well, what do you think?" Colin smiled.

"I'm thinking I'm whole again, you wonderful counselor. What a skilled way of telling me I'm suffering from inflated ego."

She kissed him and confirmed, "I accept entirely what you had to say. Thanks. I've off to sit with Susan to watch a re-run of 'Sex in the City'."

"What to study consistency in the writer's characterizations?"

"Oh no. Like Susan I wish to enjoy the absolute irrelevance those women have for the set-in-concrete attitudes most of us have about social mores as taught to us by our parents."

Colin laughed. He swatted her ass and said, "Off you go, young writer."

The tales of the irreverent, aggressive, and bawdy former sailing ship captain, bigamist Bertram Wiltshire, was published under the title of 'Swashbuckling Business Tycoon'.

Sales were excellent but literary reviews were generally muted:

'An excellent first novel.'

'Is this work a transposition of this young writer's nightmares?'

'Are we to believe that no Philly female was immune to adultery during that era when Captain Wiltshire came ashore?'

Enraged by some of the sanctimonious utterances by critics, Billie marched into the office of one of her professors and threw the clippings on to his desk and whined, "Am I entitled to sue these bastards for literary assassination?"

"Ah, Miss Summers who's overlooked the need for an appointment, I note?"

Billie tapped a foot and glared.

Ash Brown grinned.

"Let me see, ah yes. I have read some of these. So, what's the beef? Is it because none of them is recommending you for a Pulitzer?"

"Good heavens I didn't expect that. I'm only an apprentice writer. But none of these Assholes mentions my writing ability and originality in turn of phrases."

"Oh dear. The incompetent jerks."

Billie angrily leant over to grab the cuttings.

"Hold it Billie. Cool down and read this but I'm showing you this in absolute confidence, okay."

"Very well."

Ash said calmly, "You look even more beautiful when fired up."

"Get to the point," Billie hissed.

Ash pulled up Billie's personal file and said he wanted to show her some messages.

"This one is from the boss."

'Miss Summers appears to be an achiever. When did we last have a freshman have a novel published?'

Ash said he'd read replies and there were several including some who'd had novels published when at high school.

"But the point is. they are still very few and probably the number of graduates having a novel published under the age of say twenty-four would be well under one percent. Therefore sweetheart, you are part of an illustrious minority and should be thinking, 'Fuck what the critics say, I have no need to have my ego inflated. How many novels have those critics had published?' Am I putting this into perspective for you?"

"May I sit? My knees are giving way."

"Please do. Now let's see what three of our senior lecturers have written.," Ash said, reading out the memos.

'Prof. I'd like Miss Summers assigned to my classes next year. Margaret J.'

'Prof. May I suggest we add 'Swashbuckling Business Tycoon' to the required reading list for sophomores. As a first novel it has the expected weak passages but parts of it are quite amazing for such a young author. Oh, the author is here at Penn, a freshman would you believe. Sandra A.'

'Prof. Please assign Billie Summers to my classes next year. I feel she'll offer great inspiration and I want that to occur in my classes. Donald W.'

Ash looked at Billie. "Well?"

"Omigod. Um, how old were you when your first novel was published?"

"Twenty-seven and I have that many reject slips from submissions before and after that. I assume you feel a little boosted?"

"Yes. May I take you to dinner, Ash?"

"Um Billie, I only date senior lecturers and fellow female professors."

"Ooh. were you expected a little something after dinner, Ash? Then make it a full date and teach me how to fuck. You've done very well teaching me how to modify my thoughts towards churlish critics and puncturing my ego painlessly and reading those inspirational comments."

"You seem mature for your age Billie. I haven't organized anything for tonight. Yes, I'd be delighted to be taken to dinner and without any unreasonable expectation to follow. Let's arrange to meet somewhere."

* * *

Nine months later Billie's second novel, 'Butterscotch Sex' that told the story of a former sex worker employed by a company based in Runnymede, England, that produced butterscotch confectionery for worldwide distribution.

The hilarious tale told how a newly recruited wrapping machine operator progressed to become operations manager and hugely boosted public visits to the factory by encouraging factory workers to have sex with the visitors.

The gratification of workers being free to perform such an add-on services led to them enthusiastically increasing factory output two-fold and thereby cut the need for the company to invest in hugely expensive automated machinery meet a boost in orders resulting in the factory's soaring reputation,