Page 1 of Sex Coach

One

Michelle

"D amn, I'm good."

Leaning back in my seat, I added my byline to the article – Michelle Nestor .

Too bad my article wasn't for something a little more elaborate than a little local magazine, detailing all the hot happening places in a suburbia .

It was okay, though. This piece on Phoenicia, NY was another notch on my freelance belt, and the more notches I had, the more I would get .

And now that this boring piece was done, I could focus on writing something for my aunt. Aunt Blair worked for a much bigger outfit than the Phoenix out of Phoenicia – had to love the alliteration there .

Aunt Blair worked for Coterie , one of the biggest women’s magazines in the nation .

Coterie'sreaders numbered into the millions, and they were all over the country – hell, they were all over the world. Thanks to the miracle of online readership, the few articles I'd actually gotten published by them had been read by people across the globe .

I had readers in Australia .

That was such a kick. People in Oz had read my work .

Not just people up in Buffalo or Phoenicia who'd picked up the Phoenix or another one of the local magazines I'd been lucky enough to get published in – but all across the world .

It was such a rush to think about it .

"How about you stop thinking about it and start actually writing another article?" Wiping the dopey grin off my face, I gave myself a kick in the pants so I actually would focus on it. Aunt Blair was happy to take a look at anything I put in front of her, but it had to be something that her reader base would want .

Sometimes my freelance pieces were hit-or-miss .

I couldn't help it though. I had never been a normal twenty-something. No matter how hard I tried, normal was just not what I was .

I liked to pretend it was the writer in me .

Pulling up the file, I clicked it open and started from the beginning, tightening up the writing as I read through to refresh my memory. It didn't matter that I had a Masters in this shit. When I got in the groove, my brain was firing too fast to worry about things like grammar and spelling. That was why and so often ended up as amd and an became and .

It was also why I needed an editor .

A half an hour later, my groove was strong, and I was somewhat thrown when the phone rang .

Actually, thrown wasn't the word .

I was irritated . I hated it when I had a good groove going and somebody or something interrupted me .

This was why I didn't have a cat .

This was why I didn't have a roommate .

"This is why you don't have a boyfriend," I muttered .

Although that was actually a lie. It was one I told to comfort myself when I felt lonely, but it was bullshit .

Answering the phone, I tried not to sound like I was ready to bite the person's head off through the handset .

"Make it fast," I snapped .

Aunt Blair laughed. "Wow. You're either writing something brilliant or you stayed up way too late watching Netflix. Which one is it ?"

Having to recalibrate my attitude and my mood on the fly wasn't easy, but I managed .

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