Falling for Jillian Ashley: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

“Please let it be Cicciotti’s! I love that place!”

Amy leaned forward, holding Sally’s eyes with her own.

“What a coincidence,” she purred and even though Sally would have thought it impossible, her nipples got even harder.

***

Ten minutes later, they were at Cicciotti’s, seated at one of the trattoria’s sidewalk tables. The weather, as usual, was gorgeous; the daylight a lovely blue-orange as the sun began heading towards the horizon. There was an enormous tree just outside the establishment and the chorus of birds provided a pleasant accompaniment to the rustic Italian music playing softly on the trattoria’s sound system.

Their waitress had just left them, having taken their order, promising to return soon with the bottle of pinot noir they had requested to enjoy with their meal.

Upon the waitress leaving, Amy had asked Sally what she did for a living, considering that they had spent all their time at La Vida Mocha discussing Amy’s profession.

“Oh god, now I’m self-conscious!” Sally said.

“Why self-conscious?” Amy inquired, laughing.

Sally rolled her eyes.

“Because compared to what you do, my job is so unimportant!”

Amy laughed even more.

“Don’t say that! I’m sure it’s very important.”

Sighing, because she knew she couldn’t avoid this topic of conversation, Sally set about telling Amy about her job as a graphic designer, a job she really did love but which hardly had the world-changing potential of what Amy did. Still though, she explained how growing up she had been fascinated by things like signs and logos and how certain designs—even though they were incredibly simple—were so iconic and ubiquitous that even taken out of context, they were instantly recognizable.

“Take the Nike swoosh, for example,” she said. “You don’t have to see it on a pair of sneakers to know, instantly, that that symbol means Nike, right? And I love that! That symbol just looks like a fancy check mark—a child could have drawn it—but even so, when you see that simple swoosh, even if it’s drawn on a napkin, you instantly know it’s Nike.”

“I totally get what you’re saying,” Amy said. “Like Milton Glaser’s I Love New York logo. It’s such a simple design and yet every time I see that, I picture everything awesome about New York City.”

Sally blinked.

She knows who Milton Glaser is?

In the world of graphic design, Milton Glaser was God; yet very few people outside the industry knew his name, even though practically everybody around the world knew the I Love New York logo with that big red heart standing in for the word love.

Sally couldn’t believe it but her center was getting slick. She was actually getting turned on because this gorgeous woman she was with knew the name of a renowned graphic designer and one of Sally’s heroes.

Oh, Jesus…

The wine arrived then, which Sally knew wouldn’t help. Wine, particularly good wine, always heightened her arousal.

Max is going to kill me.

“Anyway,” Amy went on, after they had clinked glasses, “I think your job is super important.”

Sally scoffed.

“Says the woman who literally improves other women’s lives.”

Amy waved that off, but Sally noticed Amy had blushed deeply.

“Fine, I help others, but so do you,” she said. “People take comfort in familiarity. Things like the Nike swoosh and the I Love New York logo and even the golden arches, can make people feel safe in a world that is always changing. One day, you may also end up designing an image that is known worldwide and will give people comfort because of its familiarity.”

Sally’s heart was thudding.

“After dinner, let’s go the beach,” she said.