Reality Lesbian 3

By Q. Kelly

The producers of “Will You Marry Me?” need a new lead ASAP, and Bree Vaughn fits the bill. Never mind that she applied to be a contestant and may not truly be ready for love.

The moment that Bree sets eyes on Izzy Fontana, she thinks Izzy may be the one. Except...oops! Bree dismisses her as a prospective love match seconds afterward because Izzy is Deaf and communicates through sign language. Bree’s son, Austin, wears cochlear implants, and Bree is afraid he might backslide with a Deaf stepmother. Sayonara, so long, Izzy!

Of course, it wouldn’t be PC to kick Izzy off the first night, so Bree keeps her around along with contestants such as a poly couple, a Muslim Republican, a sixty-two-year-old dildo purveyor and a cowgirl with subpar lassoing skills. Bit by bit, enough of the contestants begin to make their mark on Bree, and the emotions, drama and tears become the real thing.

Will Bree propose, and to whom? Find out in “Reality Lesbian 3”!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Kelly
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463554210

Q. Kelly

I live in Washington state, where I am a writer and an editor. I also have a master's degree in deaf education. In my free time, I hike and savor frappuccinos.Fact One: I like corny jokes. If you have any good ones, send them my way!Fact Two: My favorite color is purple, but my writing is gray. Life is not black and white. I often write about issues and characters where there is no "right" answer.Fact Three: I'm weird. I like being weird.Email me at [e-mail]. I'd love to hear from you.Check out my blogs at qkelly.wordpress.com and qkelly.blogspot.com.

Book preview

Reality Lesbian 3

Q. Kelly

© 2019 Smashwords edition

Table of Contents

Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Acknowledgements

Other Works by Q. Kelly

Blurb for Reality Lesbian 3

The producers of Will You Marry Me? need a new lead ASAP, and Bree Vaughn fits the bill. Never mind that she applied to be a contestant and may not truly be ready for love.

The moment that Bree sets eyes on Izzy Fontana, she thinks Izzy may be the one. Except...oops! Bree dismisses her as a prospective love match seconds afterward because Izzy is Deaf and communicates through sign language. Bree’s son, Austin, wears cochlear implants, and Bree is afraid he might backslide with a Deaf stepmother. Sayonara, so long, Izzy!

Of course, it wouldn’t be PC to kick Izzy off the first night, so Bree keeps her around along with contestants such as a poly couple, a Muslim Republican, a sixty-two-year-old dildo purveyor and a cowgirl with subpar lassoing skills. Bit by bit, enough of the contestants begin to make their mark on Bree, and the emotions, drama and tears become the real thing.

Will Bree propose, and to whom? Find out in Reality Lesbian 3!

Chapter One

It had been a nice lunch until the announcement. Bree Vaughn knew something was coming—there was no mistaking the twinkle in her mother-in-law’s eyes. Marguerite had something up her sleeve, but Bree figured it meant the older woman would get TMI. She’d talk again about how she and her boyfriend, Nigel, had tried out new sex positions with names like Super Surge Energy Infusion or Goddess of the Dark Moon.

Or Marguerite might declare that she would swim around the world, skydive or get breast implants. After Nyeli, Bree’s wife, died four years ago, Marguerite took on many of her traits. She became an adventurer, risky and daring. For example, she studied Japanese for a week, traveled to Japan, immersed herself there for three months, and spoke at a high level of skill by the time she left. She also got her pilot’s license and explored hobbies such as tree shaping, beetle fighting and extreme ironing. She met Nigel Lewis through a dating app and discovered an intense sexual connection for the first time since her divorce twenty years prior.

On the other hand, Bree buckled down and focused on Austin, her son with Nyeli and now thirteen years old. She envied her mother-in-law’s joie de vivre, of course she did, but she mourned Nyeli differently. Nothing wrong with that.

In any case, the announcement was wilder than anything the workings of Bree’s mind could come up with.

"I filled out an application for the upcoming season of Will You Marry Me?" Marguerite cried gleefully.

The dating show? It’s coming back?

"Yep!

Bree frowned. Wait. What about Nigel? Are you gay now?

Marguerite’s cheeks flushed. I hear that the lead is Cleo Wilson! It’s just rumor, but come on, Cleo Wilson!

The name meant nothing to Bree.

Cleo Wilson! Marguerite repeated.

Who?

Marguerite clutched her hand over her heart. My Lord, Bree, you’ve lost your lesbian card!

Come on.

She’s the sexy toughie on the prison show.

"Oh. You mean Boo on Orange Is the New Black?"

No, Marguerite said. The other prison show.

Bree mentally flipped through the cast of Wentworth. Franky? Hey, whatever floats your—

No! Marguerite protested. The new show.

A vague title came to Bree and sharpened. "Winchester Island Prison?" If she remembered correctly, the show, set in the 1950s, was presented in black and white. She kept meaning to check it out, but life got in the way. Besides, she got the feeling from the promos she’d seen that the show tried too hard to be moody and atmospheric.

Marguerite nodded. Cleo Wilson! She plays Ruthie Jones.

Bree still couldn’t pick Cleo out of a lineup, but she let it go. "So you are gay now or experimenting? What happened with Nigel?"

Marguerite grinned slyly. I filled the application out for you.

The words took a moment to sink in. They competed with memories of Bree and Nyeli curled up on the couch, laughing and criticizing the antics of Zara, Crystal, Lucy, Karina and others in the first lesbian season. In the next season, things got even crazier. Will You Marry Me? was a show Bree pretended to find vapid and shallow, but her inner romantic did swoon at the beautiful marriage proposals, the gorgeous backdrops and the stunning women. You’re joking, Bree said, horrified. You applied for me? Oh, Marguerite.

Marguerite beamed. It’ll be a fabulous experience. You deserve to be happy, and Austin needs to see his mother happy. The beam widened. No need to thank me.

I wouldn’t.

A frown. What?

I wouldn’t thank you, and I won’t.

You should.

Well, I won’t, Bree said, righteous anger puffing her chest. She ticked offenses off finger by finger: Violating my privacy, violating my independence, making assumptions that—

"Hey! I said I filled out an application. I didn’t submit it. The deadline is a week from today. Give me credit, love. I wouldn’t submit it without your permission, and this way, you don’t need to do all that boring paperwork."

Well, that was slightly better, Bree supposed.

Will you at least review the application?

Maybe.

**

That night after Austin went to bed, Bree grabbed a box of tissues and a glass of water. She sat on the couch and had a good cry. After drying her tears and blowing her nose, she microwaved popcorn. Then she cued up the TV and found Winchester Island Prison on demand.

Why couldn’t Bree grieve like Marguerite did and be more of a free spirit? Why did she have to be such a stick in the mud? When she and Nyeli were children, Nyeli was the one who jumped from roofs, who skinny-dipped, who got drunk at ten on her father’s beer and who made friends at the drop of a hat. Bree was the one who looked both ways before crossing their quiet street, who covered herself with shorts and a T-shirt when they swam, who hadn’t gotten drunk until late in high school and who experienced difficulties making quality friends.

The first episode of Winchester Island Prison opened on what had to be a Thanksgiving dinner scene because it had all the trimmings—large family with their heads bent in prayer, a long and finely decorated table, turkey. A voiceover in rumbling tones: I killed my husband just before Thanksgiving and fed him to my unwitting family.

Oh boy.

The camera zoomed in on the woman sitting near the head of the table. That’s me, the voiceover continued. Ruthie Jones, husband killer.

Bree gulped. Oh boy times two. This woman…hot diggity damn, she was compelling as hell. She resembled Gina Gershon in Bound, and her eyes drew Bree in. They said, I am a bad person. I did a bad thing. I am empty and hollow inside. I know exactly how you feel, Bree Vaughn. We’re both desperate and beyond help. Also, I am really good in bed. We should fuck.

The reaction of Bree’s body had been instinctive, primordial. Cleo Wilson was hot!

Bree sighed. Someone else would get engaged to this actress, and Bree would be as lost as ever. She opened the attachment to the email Marguerite sent a couple of hours ago, subject line: PLEASE! Nyeli would want you to.

NAME (last, first, middle): Vaughn, Bree Natalia

DATE OF BIRTH: 6/13/78

CONFIRM YOU ARE A WOMAN ROMANTICALLY INTERESTED IN WOMEN: Yes

EMPLOYER, LOCATION AND JOB TITLE: Johnson Alternative School, Laveen, AZ, Math teacher

REASON FOR WANTING TO GO ON THE SHOW: My wife died four years ago in a school shooting. Since then, I’ve been adrift, lost. I’ve gone on a few dates but met no one extraordinary. Will You Marry Me? holds a special place in my heart. Nyeli, my late wife, and I used to watch it religiously. I’d like to give love another chance on your show. It’s an unconventional approach, but Lucy and Zara, and Gene and Crystal, still appear very much in love. Whatever you guys do, it works, and you rock!

INTERESTS AND HOBBIES: Working out, tennis, hiking, people watching

ANYTHING UNIQUE ABOUT YOU: I have a son, Austin, 13. He’s a smart ass and an adventurer like Nyeli was. He’s an aspiring actor and would really enjoy me being on the show. He’d love meeting Cleo! After Nyeli died, my mother-in-law, Marguerite, moved in. She’s a riot and entirely supportive of this decision to apply for the show. My relationship with my parents is good, too.

ATTACH FOUR (4) CURRENT PICTURES OF YOURSELF: Complete

ATTACH AN AUDITION TAPE: Complete

For the tape, Marguerite chose a clip from Austin’s birthday party a month ago. Bree led a bunch of relatives and teenagers in a rousing Happy birthday chorus. Her eyes shone, and she looked lovely.

Damn you, Marguerite.

More and more questions followed: The number of Bree’s sexual partners in the past year, whether Bree was STD-free, how she felt about children, pets and many other issues. Marguerite must have spent a good hour or two on the application, and she answered correctly for the most part. However, her zero on the sexual partners part was way off.

Bree had begun to live a little in the past year, unbeknownst to Austin and Marguerite. For the first three years after Nyeli’s death, she’d been a nun, both physically and mentally. Pure, driven snow had nothing on her chasteness. Then a year ago, her sex drive roared back into town. She joined multiple dating apps and met random women for hookups. They didn’t constitute one-night stands, they were that quick. Sometimes, they meant a five-minute finger-fuck in the gym bathroom or a thorough eating-out in the back of her SUV in an empty parking lot. Stuff like that. They left Bree feeling a strange mix of empowered and empty.

Fine. Sure. Bree would submit the application. No harm done because there was no way the show would accept the happy-birthday song as sufficient audition. She’d be disqualified immediately.

When Marguerite got home one hour later from her date with Nigel, Bree, in bed, pressed Send on the email draft she composed earlier: Okay, application sent. I still won’t thank you ;)

**

Three days later, a Tuesday evening, Bree, Austin and Marguerite munched on pizza at the kitchen table when the doorbell rang.

Damn Jehovah’s Witnesses, Marguerite grumbled.

I’ll handle them! Austin volunteered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The doorbell rang again.

No! Bree chided. She jumped up before her son could. She went to the door and, as she reached for the knob, pasted a pleasant smile onto her face.

A man and a woman grinned back at her. Hi! the man said. Grant Shaw. He thrust his hand forward and vigorously shook Bree’s. You must be Bree Vaughn.

Yes.

Pleased to make your acquaintance! Grant said. May I introduce my lovely colleague, Maya?

Hi, Maya, Bree said. These people probably weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses.

"We represent Will You Marry Me? Maya explained. Grant is the executive producer, and I’m the head casting honcho."

Bree’s stomach fluttered. Oh. It seemed like overkill for them to have come in person, but what did she know?

Marguerite’s voice boomed from behind Bree: Well, butter me up and call me a roll! Come in. I hope you like pizza. We have plenty!

**

This is delicious! Grant swooned after taking a couple of cheesy bites. It’s almost as great a find as you, Bree Vaughn. Mmm-mm!

Bree glanced across the table at Austin. He was nearly the mirror image of his biological mother with Nyeli’s high cheekbones, full lips, dark hair and curious green eyes. He had yet to hit a teenage growth spurt and looked closer to ten than thirteen. Austin followed the conversation with avid interest, same as the night before when Marguerite mentioned over dinner that Bree might be famous soon. He jumped on board right away with the idea of Bree on a reality dating show.

I knew you’d like Bree! Marguerite said.

Do we ever, Maya enthused. She directed her gaze to Bree. One of our junior casting associates got your application and reviewed it. He found lots of clips of you online talking to the press, making speeches and such. You have great camera presence, lots of poise and grace and a great backstory. You’ll have people rooting for you—all of America!

You’ll have to take STD tests and do a few psychological assessments, Grant cautioned. Make sure you’re mentally and emotionally healthy, all that.

Which you’d have to even if you were a contestant, Maya added.

Wait. I’m not a contestant?

Oh! Grant clapped his hand over his mouth. We got ahead of ourselves. I blame the pizza. It’s too good! Mmm! Bree, we want you as lead.

Lead? Bree squeaked.

What happened with Cleo? Marguerite wondered.

I made a mistake casting her, Maya admitted. Rainbow World really wanted me to get Cleo because of her prison show. I should’ve stood my ground and insisted we find someone else.

She’s a diva, Grant explained. She has no genuine interest in settling down and getting married. Plus, she’s lazy. She point-blank refuses to do most of the dates we suggested. She only wants to booze and have s-e-x.

Giggle from Austin. I can spell, he said.

Sorry, bud. Anyway, Cleo and us, we’ve gone our separate ways as of five days ago, but it leaves us with practically no time to find a new lead. We planned to start filming Cleo’s background material in two weeks, and the contestants show up to meet her in a month and half. Lo and behold, you, Bree Natalia Vaughn, drop into our laps. Even if Cleo’s behavior was perfect, your backstory is a hell of a lot more fascinating.

My wife died in a school shooting. That’s my backstory. It’s not fascinating, it’s sad.

Mom! Austin cried. You’re going to be a star!

A devilish curl to Grant’s lips. Bree Vaughn, we completely and totally want to help you find the other love of your life. We’ll give you scores of terrific women to choose from. He fished a ring box out of his pocket, got down on one knee, and peered up at Bree with huge, earnest eyes. Would you do us the honor of being our lead? He opened the box to reveal a huge diamond that must be fake.

Marguerite shrilled, Oh my God! Yes! Yes, she will! Oh my God, look at that rock! Bree! Bree! You’re getting married!

Chapter Two

Izzy Fontana munched on an apple as she studied the people in the coffee shop. Way across the cafe, a man and a woman hunched toward each other with intense, angry expressions. A divorced couple, maybe, or siblings arguing over their aging parents.

Closer to Izzy sat a dad with his preschool-age son. The boy kept trying to engage his father, and the dad would quickly grin at the boy, point to the child’s coloring book and go back to