Chapter 1: Introduction
The recording studio buzzed with energy—an excitement that crackled in the crisp air-conditioning as Frye adjusted her microphone in its stand. She blinked against the flood of light bouncing off compressors and toasters until she felt settled. The place was legit: walls of polarized glass, spacious recording booth, nobs, buttons, glowing screens. Three guys in the control room glanced at her through the glass, waved hello.
Check one, two, Frye thought, waiting for the others to arrive.
As she took in the quiet space, her curvy silhouette was illuminated by the unmistakable electricity in the air. Adjusting her yellow turtleneck and her shawl, she knew she needed something to take the edge off, even if just temporarily.
Her eyes wandered to a suspicious-looking cabinet in the back. Frye reached out and anxiously tapped on the glass window. The sound guy, whose name she couldn't recall, lifted up a finger. The laptop on the desk next to him flashed, signaling the arrival of Shiver.
Frye swallowed hard, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension at the thought of finally meeting her.
Shiver slipped through the soundproof door, looking every inch the star. "Frye, nice to meet you," she beamed, eyeing Frye from head to toe with a faint smirk. Frye's palms grew damp as she shook Shiver's hand, a little voice in the back of her mind whispering that Shiver had already formed an opinion.
"Likewise," Frye muttered.
She caught a glimpse of Shiver's pale skin through the thin fabric of her shawl, noticing, for the first time, a delicious, subtle curve under her chest wraps. A pang of desire hit Frye— she hadn't experienced that feeling in quite a while.
She blushed under Shiver's penetrating gaze but shook her nerves off and tried to play it cool. Shiver remained fixated on her, taking an unhurried moment before she broke the silence.
"That's a big forehead, Frye," she noted, almost endearingly.
The sudden opacity of the situation left Frye stunned. Her mouth hung open for a brief moment, her anticipation of a professional encounter dissipated.
"I beg your pardon?" Frye stuttered, her hands in fists.
She felt the tension rising between them, and just as she pondered the possibility that this collaboration might not be as pleasant as she had initially thought, something took over her mind.
"You want to make fun of something?" Frye snapped. "How about the fact that your tits are as flat as your personality?"
Shiver's eyes darkened, but Frye could sense a slight intrigue hidden beneath her cold gaze. The two remained silent for a few seconds, letting their words sink in.