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The Showrunner Ch.1

***Author’s Note: This is a bit of erotica I’ve been working on. The first few chapters are setup so nothing spicy. In keeping with the TOS of the site, I’ll post the spicy bits elsewhere.***

Yaya Bautista was literally perfect… well, at least under the studio lighting and through the monitor’s live feed she was. She had that coveted glisten only afforded to our betters, otherwise known as influencers. Wherever light touched her she gleamed: her cheekbones, the bridge of her slender nose, her cupid’s bow, the tops of her vaulted breasts. She was utter perfection and no one in her audience could deny her of that.

“Church, do you have those notes for tonight’s show?” asked Yaya, her eyes closed as her Makeup Artist, Devon, finished her eyeshadow.

Behind the switchboard, a creature far from perfect organized a few sheets of paper before tucking them away into a manilla folder for Yaya. Church got up from her spot and walked the folder over to Yaya. “Here you go, everything you might want to know about the famed ‘Sexologist,’ although I’m fairly wary of his credentials, ‘Dr.’ Henry Faust before he arrives.”

“Ugh, this is going to be such a boring podcast tonight. Who wants to hear some old guy talk about sex?” whined Yaya.

“Although his title is rather questionable, he does have interesting insight into the west’s current sexual zeitgeist. I mean, why has incest had such an uptick in popularity on porn sites in recent years? Are we running out of taboos, and if so, where does that lead us to next in terms of sexual expression? Social cohesion, even?” Church said, her eyes gleamed at the thought of challenging conversation.

Yaya preened her nails, “Hmm, if you say so. Do we at least have a fun sponsor today?”

Church walked back over to her work area and performed a series of taps and swipes on her tablet. “Looks like MeUndies are keeping the lights on this week.”

Yaya’s shoulders lifted and deflated. “Soooo… Bo…Ring. Oh, wait, I know!” Yaya jolted in her seat. “What if I wear that mesh top with those satin cross nipple covers? Hell, we might not be able to give our audience much to listen to tonight, but at least they’ll have an eyeful.”

“YAAAAAS, BISH,” chimed Devon. “That would be such a look!”

“Such a look!” parroted Yaya, elated at her enterprising idea to satisfy her adoring fans.

“If you think that’s best, Ya, this is your show after all.” Church fiddled aimlessly with a few settings on the switcher. “Dr. Faust may be a bit distracted, though.”

“Good, maybe I can brighten his otherwise boring existence.”

“Yaya?” Church’s voice faulted as she called her boss’s name.

Yaya’s brows rose in response. Her eyes still closed as Devon dusted the finishing touches of highlighter on her face.

“I was wondering if we might be able to talk about getting me a pay raise.”

Church had hoped for a prompt response, what she got instead was silence for what seemed like five whole minutes, but in all fairness, it was probably more like 15 seconds. She could feel the weight of her mistake causing her to fold into herself. She shouldn’t have brought anything up. She messed up, again. She gnawed on her bottom lip wishing she could have eaten her words. Her knees collapsed slightly into one another. What might have been perceived as slight discomfort in body language betrayed the severity of Church’s mental spiral. But Yaya finally gave Church a foothold to grab onto and leverage herself by speaking.

“Could you give us a moment alone, Devon?”

Devon performed one last buffing motion around Yaya’s jawline before placing his brush down and excusing himself into the next room. Yaya tilted her ear towards the door waiting to hear it shut behind Devon. Once he was gone, she trained her eyes on Church.

“What brings this on, Church?” asked Yaya as she picked up Devon’s brush and a compact mirror to make her own adjustments to her makeup.

“It’s just, I think I do a lot for this show and your brand…” Church pulled at a stray thread in her jeans while making her case.

“That’s arguable.” Yaya put away the brush and compact, then placed her clasped hands around her knees before returning her gaze to Church.

“Look, my life revolves around you and your brand, Ya, I feel as though with your growth in popularity, maybe I could reap some of the benefit. Hell, I just want enough to spring for a place in a nicer area than where I stay. It’s become tiresome with me staying over here after long sessions because I don’t feel safe enough to walk home from my bus stop.”

“I don’t mind you staying, you know that right?”

“I-I know…but the fact of the matter is, I think I’m deserving of more.”

“And you are, sweetie,” said Yaya as she rose from her seat. The click of her stiletto pumps echoed off her common room walls and seemed to dictate the rhythm of Church’s quickening pulse. Yaya reached out for Church’s hands and cradled them in her own, her brow was soft, and her smile reassuring. “It’s just with the world recovering from that whole mess a few months back, the economy is still a little shaky, is all. You know we sustain this operation off the support of the fans, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Church wasn’t certain why she was agreeing with Yaya. To an extent what she was saying made sense, but on the other hand, Church had seen the podcast’s revenue. Yaya could afford to pay her more; she wouldn’t have asked if that weren’t the case. Church withdrew her hands from Yaya’s, but Yaya’s grip tightened, just enough to keep Church’s hands where Yaya wanted them.

“And besides, how fair would it be for me to pay you more and not pay Lucas or Devon more? What they do is equally as important as what you do, wouldn’t you agree?” asked Yaya as she pouted her luscious bottom lip and swung Church’s arms, playfully.

That’s arguable, thought Church, her heart pinched at the thought of Yaya disregarding her needs as she was so ample to do. Church would have to change her approach to get what she needed by coupling her needs with Yaya’s wants. “What if I increased the podcast’s revenue somehow? Enough to cover, not only the cost of a raise, but to line your pockets, too.”

“Now you’re saying something worth listening to.” She released Church’s hands and put her hand on her hips. “What are you proposing?”

“I’m not sure, but gimme a day or two and I’ll have something, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that. 48-hours, okay?” Yaya drew Church into her arms for a tight hug. “Mmm, I’m so glad we had this talk, aren’t you?”

Church sputtered and blew a puff of air to get Yaya’s teal, teased tresses out of her mouth and general airway. “Likewise.”

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