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things too tame. This is a new generation for Sultry , and I think we need to be taking the magazine in an edgier new direction.”
    “Well, the readers seem to enjoy what I write. I get a lot of positive responses to my articles.” Bridget tried not to sound defensive. Was that going to be her tone for this entire conversation? Trying not to sound defensive?
    Marcy nodded. “You write very well, and the magazine’s been happy with your work. But we’re investigating some new test markets, some more far-reaching targets, and we want Sultry to develop a more varied fan base. Specifically, we might want to offer an offshoot of the magazine that’s a little shocking, appealing to the borderline crowd. As the mainstream mags get more risqué, we have to go further. I want you to go further.”
    “All right.” Bridget still felt a bit wary. A new, edgier offshoot? What would this entail? “How much further? I mean, what do you want me to write about?”
    “You’ve always generated your own topics, right? It’s a key part of your position here.” Marcy rested her chin on her hand. “I didn’t think senior editors usually needed hand-holding.”
    Was that a threat? Bridget went from feeling defensive to feeling a bit hostile, her cheeks flushing with anger. She had been with this magazine for seven years, right out of graduate school. How dare this transfer from another company make her feel inferior? Adrenaline accompanied her anger, and adrenaline made her impulsive. When she felt unsettled like this, reckless, she automatically sought the position of power. Despite her recent conversation with Helen about promotions and her fears of losing her job, she wanted the conversational upper hand.
    Her mind raced, and she grasped for something, anything, wanting to shock Marcy. “So I could write something about BDSM.” She surprised herself at the ease with which it came from her lips. “You know, the ins and outs of the community.”
    Marcy leaned forward, her stare locking onto Bridget with laser intensity. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. That’s an underrepresented information base that our regular readers probably don’t understand at all. You can teach them from what you’ve experienced.”
    Rather than gaining the upper hand, Bridget suddenly felt like she had lost ground. Remembering her last fantasy, she felt a jolt like a mild electric charge and hoped it didn’t show on her face. Shit, this was not the place to be thinking like that. But how did Marcy reach this point? Had Bridget implied an involvement with the BDSM community? Something about her own sexual preferences? She reviewed their conversation, the casualness with which she had spoken. Yes, she supposed she had. She opened her mouth to correct Marcy, to confess that she had no real prior experience with BDSM, but then she remembered Helen’s words— New management means new opportunities. Whatever she asks you to do , do it —and the confession died in her throat.
    “All right,” she said.
    “So it’s settled.” Marcy began gathering a few papers into a pile. “Write me something for the end of the week, and we’ll run it by the test readers and see how it plays. Who knows where this might lead for Sultry ?” She smiled her thin, tight take-no-prisoners smile, and Bridget could do nothing but nod speechlessly and walk out.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid! What had she gotten herself into? As the adrenaline faded, anxiety replaced it. This was not going to go well. What if she failed? Would she lose her job, end up writing second-rate columns in some paltry local newspaper?
    As soon as she got back to her office and shut the door, she texted Helen. Lunch today? 911.
    Helen texted back right away. It must be a slow morning at the bank. Sure! Noon? You OK?
    In a mess. Noon’s good. Meet you downstairs.
    Bridget tucked the phone back into her purse and sank into her chair, taking slow, deep breaths, calming herself down. All