My head was telling me to call her. I didn’t think I could cope with another round of let’s–forget–what–happened–between–us and every atom in my body was telling me to end this shit, before it ended me. But this time, the stakes were high, higher than ever. Before, she always lifted me up, but I was beginning to wonder if we were just getting too fucking heavy.
My head couldn’t compute. The ability to think had vanished along with my sensibility. I decided on a shower and a couple of rounds of coffee before I could even attempt a conversation with her. Words rounded my brain. Jumbled and annoying.
Oh, hi. Yeah, porn shoot on Saturday. Sounds great! See you then.
Porn is my jam. I’ll be there with knobs on. Erect knobs.
Porn first, discussion about my intimate and complicated feelings for you after?
Why did she have the ability to cloud yet clarify everything all at once?
I laid back on my bed, still perfectly made from the day before, and ignored my monster boner that had emerged in the shower. I was only going through the night before, trying to make sense of her words, of mine, scalding myself for misreading the simmering sexual tension over the years before scalding myself for questioning it in the first place and there it was, rising to attention, screaming when the bloody hell do I get to have her too! Dry humping isn’t cutting it!
Pushing the wet hair off my forehead, a realisation prickled across my scalp. We were no longer in a place where flirty comments and waking up cradling each other on the sofa could be brushed off or discarded as something else, something tame and innocent. Friendship goals and jokey banter. Last night, we were gasps and heat, simmer and boiling point. Body parts brushing with intention, not as mishaps. We were a connection of limbs and hands, mouth and tongue. Our first kiss, five years in the making, was everything I wanted it to be. Passionate and messy, her ass in my hands and an erection so hard and stiff I think I may have pulled a tendon.
I stared at my phone. What the fuck do I say? My first line of communication since I felt how wet she was through her trousers. How did I know that? The wet patch on mine.
Jesus, fuck.
Got your message.
No, delete.
How are you?
Highly original. Delete.
Can we start off by talking about last night? Do you know how long I wanted to kiss you? Feel you against me, hear your gasps and moans? Fuck you? Forever, Skye.
Too much? Fuck, I don’t know. If Stace hadn’t found us, I was a fingertip away from her sinking into her.
Delete.
Saturday is fine.
Can we talk?
I think we need to talk.
Three dots appeared and disappeared. I almost had time to get dressed, make a coffee and tidy the flat before she finally replied.
Got a lot on this week. Maybe after the shoot?
Are you kidding me, Skye?
17
Skye
“Good evening,” Margot said. I stepped back, shocked to find her opening the door.
“Hi,” I stuttered, unsure why she was smiling when I’d been told she’d ask security to let me in, leading me to assume she’d found out about Will and me clothes fucking against a wall.
“I thought you’d like some help,” she said, pushing her hands into her back pockets. Suddenly, seeing her pigeon toed and shy made me question my original thoughts. “I’m happy to be around…if that’s what you want?”
“Really?” I almost kissed her, but the Will situation held me back. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Come in,” she said, waiting for me to start climbing the stairs. “Skye, can I say something before we start?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Will, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I would just be standing in the way of whatever it is.”
“Excuse me?”
“I liked him, but I couldn’t get anywhere near.” She smiled as she looked to the floor. “He only has eyes for you.”
“It’s complicated.” I huffed.
She laughed. “Funnily enough, that’s exactly what he said.”
“He did?”
“Skye, we had two dates. Well, one and a half really,” she replied. “He brought me home and we talked about you.”
I nodded, unable to speak, because if I started talking about this, about him, I’d never stop, and I had the small matter of filming my first porn film to deal with before anything else. “There’s a lot of history and I’m terrified of fucking it up, but I can’t even think about that, now. I need to put that away and focus on…camera angles.”
She laughed. “I thought I could offer some direction. There’s also a camera guy who owed me a favour. He’s here to help Will.”
I covered my face with my hands, and she leant in, wrapping me in a hug. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am.”
“We female porn directors have to support each other,” she replied. “I’ve got your back.”
“Jesus, that’s a far stretch.” I laughed. “I’ve been so worried about this I haven’t slept all week.”
“Come on, gorgeous,” she said, her arm draped over my shoulders. “Let’s get started.”
I spent the first thirty minutes thanking Margot and feeling pretty amazing that I had some professional support. It was important to me that the film looked good, didn’t appear amateur or homemade and would stand the test of time to be used as an educational tool in the clinic. I went through the storyboard with her and accepted some suggestions of how we could expand the story and turn up the volume on the messages I wanted to put across. The scene was simple. The story was about a couple who were about to have their first sexual experience together. The set would be a bedroom, with bed and bedside table to contain lube and condoms that would be used during the scene. Margot suggested we use images of a well-stocked drawer to show the importance of safe sex, particularly with James’ HIV diagnoses. I wanted the dialogue to show the sex was consensual, with a constant narrative checking they were both OK, enjoying what they were doing and could give each other direction of what they liked or didn’t. I wanted to show that communication was a healthy part of a sexual relationship and that both people should be completely comfortable without being coerced into something they didn’t want to do.
“Right, the lighting is beautiful. We’ve got a lovely airy space.” Margot rubbed her hands together. “They’ve done such a great job considering we’ve given them–” she looked at her watch, “–twenty minutes.” I walked over to the set, which I had to admit was impressive. They’d found items from a previous shoot that they mixed together. A window in the background with light drapes. Neutral bedding to keep the feeling of light. “Everything as you want it?” Margot asked behind me.
“Yeah, it’s great. Just what I pictured.”
“We’ve got two cameras. One, Joe will work and can be static and the other, which is smaller and moveable can be used by Will.”
“Do you use that to get close up shots?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’d have someone right in on the scene, underneath them, essentially, to get the close ups.” She crouched down to the camera, looking in the viewfinder and making some adjustments. “Do we know where Will is?” she asked, still focusing on the camera. I hadn’t seen him all week, just exchanging text messages, checking in with each other. I gave him the times and other details for tonight but hadn’t received a reply.