Becky yawned as she signed into BBC Eastern Counties' studios, under her more recognisable pen-name: it'd been a long few days. There'd been the talk on Wednesday night, a reading in the quirky arts venue on Thursday, then the meet-the-author event at a bookshop on Friday.

Lizzie had woken her before dawn barely hours ago for one last gloriously long fuck, before slipping out of her life.

Now she was at the local radio station at 8:30 on Saturday, a guest on their weekly magazine programme. Her agent believed in maximising the success of her first novel, given the new book of short stories was a harder sell.

*

She was used to the travelling, odd hours and cheap hotels by now. She hadn't anticipated meeting the sensuous Lizzie at Wednesday's talk – or their quietly flirty drink afterwards turning into a record-breaking 48-hour love-making session in Becky's hotel room. They'd only stopped to doze off, get room service food, or let Becky fulfil her contractual commitments.

Becky had got back from the bookshop thing to find Lizzie working at a laptop at the desk in the room, in just a t-shirt. Lizzie'd been in a cute blouse and jeans when they'd met and mostly naked since, and certainly unequipped to work from anywhere. Becky'd assumed she'd been home briefly, to try and catch up on her life.

She'd also brought wine and, randomly, a bunch of roses – which added a cute touch to the bland room.

Becky had hoped she'd been productive in the short time, because she couldn't resist Lizzie in just a t-shirt. Lizzie had liked Becky's go-to event dress so much she'd been eager to take it off her.

Becky had never actually got round to asking Lizzie about her work.

*

A production assistant in skinny jeans led Becky to the studio ante-room, where the other guests were already waiting. She handed Becky a much-needed coffee. 'So, Rebecca...Libs likes to get her guests to choose a track to play during the programme. Any ideas?'

Becky shrugged, disliking being on the spot – her musical tastes were randomly inconsistent, and probably not suitable for a Saturday morning local radio show. Through the window from the office/ante-room into the studio, she caught sight of a sexy head of brown hair bent over a mixing desk, and felt her heart leap. She stood up and pointed through the glass. 'Er...is that the presenter?'

'Libs, yeah. She'll come say hi in a minute.' The girl hovered. 'So...any music ideas?'

The woman in the studio turned her head and caught sight of Becky staring at her.

Libs/Lizzie...Rebecca/Becky...professional name/private name...who had the right to another's identity?, Becky wondered.

Lizzie grinned and held Becky's gaze for a moment with her deep brown eyes.

Becky flushed, her body still satisfyingly tired and achy from the last two days of transient but unforgettably intense love-making with this woman. She thought for a second, then turned to the studio assistant. 'Can you find Joan Baez, "Love Song To A Stranger"?'