10. Chapter 10
10
Sophie
The realization, the panic, the sheer terror. It all threatens to drown me. I crumple the paper and pull the knife from the wood. I nearly drop my keys in my haste to unlock the door. Once inside, I press the buttons to turn on the alarm and wait for it to chime, indicating it’s activated.
My breathing is ragged and my eyes stare vacantly, even as I reach the top step. Natalie is nowhere in sight. Stomping over to the trash can, I step on the lever to lift the lid and it smacks the wall behind it. I toss the cursed items into the mostly full bag. Before letting the lid fall, I grab the paper towels from the side and cover the note, shoving the knife down between other bits of garbage.
As if I can scrub the evidence of Caleb’s arrival from my life, I let the hot water run over my hands in the kitchen sink. Even when the soap is gone, I keep them there long enough for steam to obscure the window above.
“How was the date?” Natalie’s voice makes me jump and spin while drying my hands. Her footsteps must have been too quiet to break through the fear. Fucking ninja . “Sorry,” she laughs. Her smile fades when she realizes I’m not laughing with her. “What happened? Are you ok?”
She rushes forward, grabbing my hands still holding the soft tea towel. My mouth opens and closes several times, trying to form words, but none come.
“What did he do?” Her expression turns angry .
I shake my head, still attempting to speak.
“N-nothing,” I choke out. “He didn’t- It’s-” I can’t form the words.
“Soph, what happened? You have to tell me or I can’t help.” She reaches up to cup my cheek before pulling me into a hug, my arms trapped between our bodies.
A sob bursts forth, causing me to convulse and I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that burn and threaten to consume me. I can’t stop shaking my head. I can’t stop the thoughts, the memories, from flooding my mind.
“H-he’s here.”
My voice, barely a whisper, is enough to get Natalie’s attention. She pulls away, holding my upper arms. She doesn’t ask who. The answer is in my eyes, staring back at her in the overhead kitchen lights.
I can’t think, can’t function. Somehow, Natalie gets me ready for bed, guiding me through the motions. I can’t even be sure if it’s Natalie’s hand or my own that holds my toothbrush. I end up curled on my side, beneath the covers, in Natalie’s bed. She plays the big spoon, her hand smoothing my hair.
“I was hoping you’d have a fun story to tell me about your date tonight,” she says softly. “But that stupid fucker had to go and ruin it. I swear to god, if I ever see his fucking face, I’ll-” she grunts in frustration, but her hand remains gentle. “Fucking twat waffle.”
A laugh escapes through my nose and I feel Natalie tense.
“It was a note,” I croak. “On the front door. He stabbed it into the wood with a knife.”
“What? When? Where are they?”
“I threw them away,” I whisper.
“Hang on, why didn’t it trip the doorbell cam?” Natalie’s hand disappears from my head. She’s silent for a moment. “Fuck, there’s a whole three minutes of nothing from earlier. How the fuck did that happen?”
I shake my head. Caleb’s no computer whiz and there’s no way he just got lucky. If there’s footage missing, it means he had help. That makes him even more terrifying. How far do I have to run to escape him? Fucking Mongolia?
“Sophie, we need to do something,” Natalie urges. Her voice is still gentle, still soft and low like I might break if she’s too loud. “File a police report or-”
“And tell them what? Here’s a crumpled note and a knife that now has my prints. Oh, and no one is visible in the footage? Yeah, that’ll really get us somewhere. I don’t need a grippy sock vacation, thanks.”
“No one would send you on a grippy sock vacation,” Natalie groans .
“There’s nothing I can do.” It’s an admission of helplessness. I shake my head and sit up.
Natalie studies me, those hazel eyes seeing deeper into my soul than any one person should be able to. The concern is evident, but I have nothing more to say about Caleb. I can’t just up and move. I can’t run again. I only just got settled.
“It was a good date.” I meet her gaze. A small smile plays on my lips.
“Well, that’s something. But don’t change the subject-”
“I’m not talking about it right now.” I shake my head. “Shit, where’s my phone? I told Brody I’d let him know when I got home safe.”
“Really? Your cunt nugget-”
“That’s a new one.”
“-of an ex just stabbed a threatening message to our door and you’re worried about letting this new guy know you’re safe? Which, bee tee dubs, you’re not .”
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and flip the blankets off of me in one swift motion. Natalie follows me into the kitchen to find my purse sitting on the tiny island which has become more of a catch-all than a prep space. I pull my phone from the outside pocket of my purse and unlock it to see that Brody has messaged me on KinkRink three times.
Props to him for not reacting angrily, at least. I quickly type out an apology, using Natalie as an excuse for not responding sooner. I hope he’s not upset. If Caleb’s fuckery fucked this up for me, I’m gonna fuck up his fucking life.
I need new curse words.
Brody’s response is immediate.
My lips tighten into a thin line. I should share my number. I really should, but there’s still a part of me that knows how easy it is to find all kinds of information with just a first name and a phone number.
I message him good night and look back up at Natalie. She’s been staring the whole time, arms crossed over her chest, her expression one of expectation. Expecting a debrief of the date? Possibly. Since I shut down anything to do with Caleb.
“I’m going to bed.”
“I’m asking about the date tomorrow.”
I just wave a hand before disappearing into my room, utterly exhausted.
Am I going to dream about Brody? Maybe. Will I feel remotely guilty for imagining those muscles beneath my fingertips? Absolutely not.
Just as I’m about to drift off to thoughts of a certain handsome face between my thighs, my phone vibrates. Thinking it might be Brody again, I shake myself awake and reach for the device on my bedside table.
The notification is a direct message on Twitter. Frowning, I open the app. The sender is a creator I’ve been following for months, since discovering him through another creator we’ve both worked with.
Lance Kixxx has been around longer than I have with hundreds of videos under his belt. Of fucking course I want to work with him! It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot. And hung. And tall. And tattooed–literally covered, save for his face and a few spots on his legs.
Fuck now I’ll never get to sleep.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
Tomorrow? Yes!
“I’m only allowing you coffee access if you tell me about your date last night.”
Natalie is standing in front of the drip coffee maker when I walk out into the kitchen the next morning. How long has she been waiting there like that?
“He was really nice,” I say weakly, but her face breaks out into a grin.
“Define nice.” She grabs my arm to steer me toward the couch and away from the precious caffeine.
We fall onto the huge sectional and I set my feet on the table, prepared to sit here for the long haul.
“It was so easy to talk to him.” I’m still surprised by it, actually. “He was flirty, but not too forward and- and , he didn’t even try to come home with me.” I say the last detail with a grin and look over at Natalie who sits up a little straighter.
“Wait, he didn’t try to get in your pants?”
“Nuh-uh, and the kiss was sort of innocent.” I’m not sure if that’s the right word.
“What does that mean?”
“No tongue.” I shrug. “Not even a hint.
“But the kiss was hot anyway?”
“Look, I can’t explain it. But he was so worried about me getting home safely and not at all angry that it took me so long to respond. A lack of tongue isn’t really a red flag.”
“Sophie, you’re a fucking porn star and you just went on a date with someone who didn’t want to fuck your brains out.”
“Who’s to say he wasn’t just being a gentleman?”
“He’s a man. If he was a masc lesbian, then I’d say he was being a gentleman.”
I snort.
“Nat, I’ve gotta have coffee and then get ready. We can break this down more later. Really get into the psychology of it all.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes and lets go of my arm so I can stand. “The moment you’re done filming, we’re talking. I want to know more about this Brody if he’s going to date my daughter.”
It doesn’t take me long to prepare, going through the motions like anyone else would prepare for a day at the office. Except my typical day includes wearing very little clothing–possibly no clothing–and sex.
“I’m headed out for a wax, but I’ll make sure to be quiet when I get home.” The unmistakable jangling of keys echoes through the apartment just before Natalie’s footsteps sound on the stairs.
Today’s makeup style is going to have to be girl-next-door. I don’t have the energy for vivacious vixen. Once I’m finished, I run my hand through my hair one last time, separating some of the soft curls that have clumped together. I’m wearing a tank top and pajama shorts but nothing underneath, assuming Lance and I can discuss costumes when he arrives.
I hate choosing outfits for scenes and broadcasts. It has always felt odd to me to put something on, only to take it off within minutes. Photoshoots are the only time where I feel it makes sense.
There it is again–the anxiety. My hands tremble just enough for me to notice. There’s a fluttering in my chest that I now associate only with moments like these. I focus on the next steps.
The bed in the studio is made. Our rule is that used sheets are to be removed and washed, then replaced quickly so that the next person doesn’t have to wait. It’s a system that has worked for us so far.
I stare around the room with my hands on my hips. The tripods with their ring lights are in place, plugged into power strips. We keep the power strips off when not in use, so I quickly switch them on. Toys, lube, costumes, and more are all readily available in the closet and the long chest of drawers opposite the bed, but there’s no reason to get anything out just yet.
My phone chimes with a notification of movement out front and moments later I hear the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath, I turn on my heel and make my way to the front door. As I descend the stairs, I can see him through the window. He’s looking around, standing about a foot from the door. I nearly miss a step in shock.
Even through the dingy glass, I can tell this man is far more attractive than his pictures. Why can’t cameras seem to capture what the eyes see? His hair is dark and just long enough that I can tell it’s curly, though the curls aren’t super tight. There's a hint of stubble on his face that's a shade lighter. His brown eyes are striking. I imagine they’d bowl over any mere human without the protection of a dusty window. I’m about to find out if that’s true. I know there are plenty of tattoos covering his perfectly tan skin and that there are no tan lines anywhere on his body. I may or may not have done some research when I first discovered him.
I jump the last step, the sound catching his attention. When I open the door, Lance is grinning down at me.
“Hey, come on in!” Did I just squeal?
Lance thanks me, stepping inside. He brushes against me as he does so and heat sparks between us, both familiar and foreign. I swallow audibly. I’ve never had a reaction like that to a co-performer’s touch.
“Sorry, it’s a bit tight here.” I lead the way up the stairs, knowing he’s got a perfect view of my ass.
“Nothing wrong with being a bit tight,” Lance chuckles, his voice deep and husky.
“Yeah, yeah,” I giggle. “Good to know you’re not shy.”
“No reason to be shy,” he replies when we reach the top of the stairs. “We both know why we’re here. I want to make this as comfortable as possible.”
“I appreciate that. I’m sure your other collabs do too.”
“I hope so.”
Even his smile is enough to make me weak in the knees. Me . I like to think I’m hard to impress anymore, given the life I lead, but fuck if I’m not genuinely fantasizing about this man .
“So this way is where the magic happens,” I say, directing us deeper into the apartment and toward the guest room. I glance back in time to see Lance running a hand through his dark curls as he looks around at the space.
“I’ve seen your content. Definitely magical.”
“Thanks. Yours is amazing. I seriously aspire to that level of production.”
“I don’t have the lighting you do,” Lance points out the sliding glass doors on the opposite side of the room. “I’ll bet the balcony would make for a hot video.”
“Yeah, too bad I have neighbors,” I mutter.
“Good point. Let’s not get you kicked out of your place.”
Ready to get to work, I motion to my closet and the dresser opposite the end of the bed.
“I have plenty of lingerie and costumes and toys and all that. Did you have a scenario or something in mind?”
“I’ve found that first-time collabs seem to be best when we just experiment.” His eyes fall to mine as he speaks and my cheeks flush with the intensity of his gaze. “I’m all about bad porn acting,” he adds with a smirk, “but it’s easier when you already know someone.”
“I agree.” I turn toward the chest of drawers and open the top left one. The left side is mine, the right side is Natalie’s. Unfortunately for us, I’m about three sizes bigger than her, so sharing isn’t really possible. “Maybe lingerie or a sundress or-?”
I stop when I turn around and catch him staring at my ass. He drags his eyes back to mine and grins.
“Sorry.” Lance doesn’t sound remotely apologetic. He grabs the strap of his backpack and sets it on the floor. “Wear what you feel is comfortable. If you want to start on the bed, we can get some shots of just you first.” He bends down to dig in the bag, pulling out a tripod. “I have a few things. Toys, cuffs, a skull mask.” He smirks when he looks up.
“Let’s pass on the mask this time.”
“You got it, Honey. Can I call you that?” He stands and begins extending his tripod.
“It’s my name.” I shrug, my tone casual.
“Well, not your real name, I’m sure. I always find it weird being called Lance.” He’s not looking at me and I realize I haven’t moved, still holding something lacey in one hand. I drop it and dig around for a specific lingerie set.
“At least mine is kind of a pet name, so I guess it’s less weird.”
“Yeah, a little different than your roommate, right?” he asks. “Don’t you live with Sapphic Emerald?”
“Yeah, she typically goes by Emerald or Em.” When my fingers finally find the lavender set, I face Lance once more.
“Makes sense.”
“Or Sapphy,” I add with a laugh, remembering when someone called her that on a shoot I was helping with. “Although, I don’t think that one’s going to stick.”
“Actually, that’s not bad.” With the tripod set up, he seems to be waiting for me. “Does Sapphy ever film for you?”
“Sometimes, but she’s running errands today. Tripods should be fine.”
“We don’t need a camerawoman. I was just curious.” He runs his hand through his hair again and I wonder if he’s nervous. “Lucky for you to have someone in-house though. Or lucky for her,” he adds.
“A bit of both. Do you have a roommate or someone who helps?” I lean gently against the dresser. The afternoon sun is shining brightly into the room, reflecting off of his eyes, turning them gold. The effect is striking.
“Nah, my roommate, he, er-” Lance chuckles. “He’s not as comfortable around all this as we are. He doesn’t judge though. We’ve been friends more than half our lives, but I wouldn’t subject him to this.”
“I’m sure your friendship has survived worse than him seeing you naked.”
“Oh, definitely. But I care about his comfort. I’m not sure he’d want to see me naked with a woman, much less anyone else.”
“That’s right,” I say with sudden realization. “You recently started filming with men, didn’t you? It’s kind of refreshing to meet a straight guy who doesn’t get hung up on that. Most men don’t even want to be naked in the same room as another man, let alone touch them. A lot of amateurs would run screaming.”
I stop. Lance isn’t looking at me anymore and I wonder if I hit a nerve. Instead, his eyes are unfocused, aimed at the bed.
“Er, so releases and IDs first?” I ask. “I’ve got copies if you need one.”
“Nope, I’m covered.” He recovers and bends down to reach for his backpack again.
“Is it weird that I find that level of professionalism hot?” I ask, stifling a laugh.
“It gets all the women wet.” He winks.
The paperwork and ID photos are quick. When we finish, Lance claps his hands and rubs them together.
“Ok, how can I help? ”
I have to swallow the nerves. Usually by now, I’m fine. I’m comfortable. Something about Lance has me amped up in a wholly unfamiliar way. It doesn’t feel like a warning bell, but I still can’t figure out what it means.
I strip so I can change into the lingerie, speaking while doing so.
“Any limits?” I ask.
“I don’t think we’re going to encounter any during this scene unless you intend to stick a needle in me.”
I snort.
“Definitely not.”
“Kissing?” asks Lance and I nearly drop the pair of panties as I pull them on.
“This is going to sound weird,” I mutter as I pull up the underwear. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I confess, “No forehead kisses.”
Lance stares in amusement. He crosses his arms and leans back against the door frame.
“No forehead kisses,” he repeats. “But I can stick my tongue down your throat.” I nod.
“Look, I don’t know why. I can do the nastiest, freakiest things, but,” I point at him for emphasis, “you kiss me on the forehead, you better be prepared for the consequences.”
Lance’s bark of laughter startles me. His eyes are shining with mirth. Maybe even a bit of mischief. They’re practically sparkling.
“Noted. The last woman I filmed with, her partner didn’t allow her to kiss her co-stars. I don’t mind, but it kind of takes away from a scene if you want it to be intimate.”
“I totally agree.” I’m glad he doesn’t push on the forehead kissing thing. I don’t know if I’m just weird or if it’s something a lot of women would agree on, but it makes me feel things, and feeling things can be dangerous. “I would have a hard time imagining letting a partner dictate what I can and can’t do on camera.”
Caleb tried. When he realized I would only compromise on a few things, he got angry. I shake my head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. Lance doesn’t seem to notice.
“Have you dated since you started making content?” he asks. We’re just standing and conversing now as if we aren’t about to fuck on camera.
“I had a long-term relationship for a while, but that ended when I moved out here about six months ago.” When I ran. “Since then just a single date.”
“It’s kind of hard to find people who understand, isn’t it?” Lance’s gaze has turned more observant as if trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
“Very.” I don’t want to be rude, but I’m so not about to divulge all of my secrets to a stranger. I’ll fuck him, but I won’t tell him all about my ex .
“Oral?” he asks and I start to worry that he can read my mind.
“Good with giving and receiving. You?”
“Love both. Is there something specific you like when receiving?”
I hesitate. No one, on- or off-camera, has made me come. It doesn’t particularly matter on camera as long as I’m convincing–and I always am. But Lance is waiting for my reply and I know he notices my pause. I clear my throat.
“Just do whatever is easiest,” I finally say. “I’m a good actress,” I add with a wink when I see that he’s about to protest.
“Does it always have to be fake?” he asks, cocking his head to one side and eyeing me.
“Of course not. But if you want it to be real, we could be here all day.”
That earns another sharp laugh.
“I’m not sure if you doubt my abilities or if you’re just that cynical from years of neglect.” Neglect . The word hurts, but it isn’t exactly incorrect.
“Can’t it be both?” I ask. “What about you? Do you want to instruct me in the scene or tell me now if there’s something you like?”
Most men hate being vocal, even in porn. It’s a serious oversight, but I’m sure it’s a vicious cycle. Men in porn just grunt and barely speak. So the men watching think they have to be silent too.
“You do what you think is best and I’ll teach you in real-time,” he says with a grin, closing the door and stepping further into the room. “If you need it.”
I bite down on the inside of my lips, trying not to gasp at the look in his eyes. Co-stars are excited to work with me all the time–it helps to be somewhat attracted to the person you’re filming with–but the look in those brown eyes is hungry . He drags his gaze down and then back up, but when it meets mine once more, his expression softens and he grins.