5

“My mother.” His voice softened. “She was a seamstress. Small jobs. Hemming trousers, fixing zips. One day I saw her hand-stitch a gown from scratch. No pattern. Just instinct. It was… magic.”

I smiled. “So you inherited the eye?”

“Maybe. But not the patience,” he said, laughing. “She always said I was too stubborn to sew straight.”

“You know,” I said, resting my chin in my hand, “if you ever get tired of anonymity, you’d make a brilliant public speaker. Your voice alone could sell fabric.”

This was my second shot, the high witches of whoredom were dancing around my head like stubborn flies .

He raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get me out of hiding already?”

“Not at all,” I said, grinning. “But your story deserves to be heard. Even if it’s just on tape.”

There was a warm silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel awkward or empty—just… easy. I caught myself staring at the faint scruff on his jaw, the way his hands moved when he talked. Elegant. Precise.

Those hands certainly looked like they knew where they belonged, inside the warm depths of my vagina and if this man failed to catch this vibe, I dont know what I would do.

Stop it, I warned myself. He’s Olivia’s uncle. He’s also your dream interview. Do not be that girl who falls for the ingredients and gets cooked...

But my imagination was already ahead of me. I pictured him fucking me while standing, thrashing me against the wall upclose, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Saying something soft, just for me. His lips—

I blinked hard, forcing my gaze away. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “Got lost in thought.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Anything interesting?”

“Oh, you know,” I said with forced lightness, “just how I’m going to write the most professional blog post ever without sounding like a complete fangirl.”

“You can be honest,” he said. “That’s what makes you good.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, my phone buzzed. A message from Olivia.

Olivia: Did you thank me yet? Or are you too busy trying to get your next scoop from my uncle?

I nearly choked on my tea and quickly flipped the screen over.

“Everything okay?” Charles asked.

“Fine. Just Olivia being… Olivia.”

He chuckled knowingly. “She means well, even when she’s meddling.”

“She really does,” I said. Then I added, more seriously, “She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t. If not for her, I’d probably still be writing blog posts for five followers and a dog.”

He looked at me intently. “And now?”

“Now?” I smiled. “Now I’m having tea with the one man I’ve dreamt of interviewing for years.”

He seemed to weigh that for a second before saying, “It won’t be the last time.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said slowly, “if you ever want more access—for future pieces, behind-the-scenes stories, even event coverage—I trust you.”

The weight of his words settled on me like silk. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

I stood then, needing to move, needing to process. I wandered toward nothing in particular. I need to rub my thighs together my vagina was aching and begging for his dick.

He joined me, looking over my shoulder. “My parents. That’s Olivia’s mum there. We were close.”

There was something tender in his voice, a softness that made him feel more human, less distant.

“You’ve got layers to yourself,” I said.

“So do you,” he replied.

The clock chimed softly in the distance. I realised how much time had passed.

“I should go,” I said reluctantly, reaching for my bag. “I’ve taken enough of your evening.”

“You haven’t,” he said, walking me to the door. “This was… refreshing.”

We paused at the threshold. The air was warm, scented with the salt of the bay.

“Thank you, Charles,” I said sincerely. “For trusting me. For opening up this much.”

“Thank you,” he said back, and there was something in his eyes again. Something I couldn’t quite name.

I was disappointed. I wanted him eating my couchie, but there he was staring at me.

Just when I had lost all hope for an invite, he cleared his throat and said.

“You should come by my house some time, here is my address. We can have a proper interview then. Keep this a secret from Olivia!”

Definitely!

This part of the tea was forbidden, Olivia was certainly not going to sip this one.