12. Chapter 12
12
Sophie
“Holy forking shirt balls.” Natalie is sitting on the couch, staring at me and trying not to gape. “He actually made you come?”
“Yep.” It’s all I can say. I’m still in shock myself.
“And you lied. Why didn’t you tell him you came all over his stupid face?”
“He’s kinda hot,” I mutter.
“Why didn’t you tell him you came all over his hot, stupid face?”
I shoot Natalie a stern look, but she doesn’t back down.
“Because,” I sigh, “his hot, stupid face was already really smug and I didn’t like it. I was about to stroke his cock, I didn’t need to do the same to his ego.”
“Girl, if any man had been able to make me see stars-”
“I didn’t say I saw stars.”
“-the first time we were together, I’d still be dating men.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I counter.
“No, I wouldn’t,” she admits. “But I might’ve had a tougher time giving them up.”
“He kissed me after,” I add.
“Like… off-camera?”
“Well, no, but we’d definitely finished the scene.”
Her demeanor changes entirely.
“Sophie, that’s not- ”
“I know,” I say, cutting her off with a raised hand. “But I let him. He wouldn’t have-”
“He’s a man. If he had wanted to, no matter what you were doing, what signals you were sending out, he would have.” Natalie’s tone is full of rage. I haven’t seen her like this outside of traffic in a while. “Maybe don’t work with him again.”
If working with Lance was a mistake, it’s not the first one I’ve made. It likely won’t be the last. I didn’t even check the man’s references, looking for performers he’s worked with in the past who would vouch for him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You’re probably right.”
“Of course, I’m right.”
“If he reaches out, I’ll be really mean to him.”
“Tear him to shreds.”
I giggle. Natalie will always encourage me to destroy a member of the male species.
“I wonder if he’s the type to enjoy domination,” I muse.
“He probably wants you to tie him to a breeding bench so you can whip and peg his ass, then make him clean the dildo.”
“That’s an image.” I fake an eye twitch, but grin.
“You’ve seen worse.”
“Fair enough,” I sigh. “I promise I’ll be cold and calculating.”
I lean back on the couch and turn my attention back to the adult cartoon we’ve been binge-watching since Lance left. Natalie took her time getting home after her wax, so she missed him by half an hour. She joins me in focusing on the show once more.
“What time are our appointments tomorrow?” I mutter. One of the characters in the show is refusing a numbing shot for dental work, reminding me of how much I hate needles–when they aren’t stabbing ink into my skin–which reminded me that Natalie and I have our bi-weekly STI test tomorrow.
“You’re horrible with your calendar, you know that?” She sends me a sideways glance. “Mine’s at ten. Yours is at ten-fifteen.”
“Got it.”
“Did you text you know who today?” Natalie doesn’t look at me, but I notice the smirk on her lips out of the corner of my eye.
“Just something quick this morning. Told him I had a busy day.”
“I thought you liked him. ”
“I do,” I laugh. “But he doesn’t know what I really do. I should probably tell him in person, but I wanted to wait, see if there are any red flags first.”
“Good call.” She laughs to herself. “Unless you want to send ‘I make porn’ flowers.”
“And what kind of flowers would those be?”
“Clitoria mariana, obviously.”
I turn my head and frown, but Natalie doesn’t elaborate. Rolling my eyes, I pull out my phone to message Brody. Perhaps I should go ahead and give him my number.
Really? How boring can I get?
It only takes Brody a few minutes to respond.
That’s what normal people say, right? TGIF and all that.
Well, that’s adorable. Simp for me, Brody .
Nothing like a second date in three days to let you know a guy’s into you. I try not to let my mind wander as I walk down the street from my parking spot. I hate parallel parking, but it was that or park another six blocks away and that was absolutely not going to happen for this chubby chick.
Everywhere in Los Angeles always seems to be busy. It doesn’t matter what time of the day, week, or year I try to go somewhere. It’s busy. Everything is busy all the time, always.
Fuck LA .
The shop front says Paint & Pinot . I like the alliteration. The building is separate from the others along the strip and it’s mostly brick with just a few small windows, above eye level. The front door is all glass, but it’s been painted from the inside with flowers. They’re beautiful, not like a beginner artist might paint them. Not the way I might paint them. There’s shading and flow and it’s breathtaking.
“Wow.” Brody’s deep, rumbling voice startles me and I turn to face him as he steps up behind me.
“Give a girl a heart attack,” I chuckle, my hand on my chest, and glance back at the door. “Yeah, the flowers are gorgeous.”
“Not the flowers.”
When I look at him again, his gaze is roaming me from top to bottom and right back up to my face. My cheeks flush. I’ve been studied like this many times, so many that I’ve lost track, but this is different. Those green eyes are fiery, melting me from the core outward. I swallow, hoping the movement isn’t actually audible, and smile. Time to put those awful porn acting skills to work–this man puts me off my game and I can’t have that.
“Aren’t you a charmer?”
Brody lifts one corner of his mouth in a crooked grin and closes the distance between us, using one hand to catch my chin beneath his thumb and index finger. Tilting my head up to his, he leans down to gently kiss me. It’s just as chaste and innocent as our first kiss, but I feel that spark again anyway.
My knees threaten to buckle in that brief moment and I reach out for him. One hand lands on his elbow, his fingers still holding my chin. The other grabs at his chest, wrinkling his spectacularly pressed shirt–that beautiful collared shirt that looks so good with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms.
When he pulls his face away, I inhale sharply and bite my lip.
“Let’s go paint some really shitty art,” he laughs, dropping my chin and trailing his open hand down my arm .
I realize I’m still holding him, so I drop my hands and smile once more.
“How do you know I’m not a pro?”
“Are you?” Brody asks with a grin as we turn toward the door.
“No, but it’s rude to assume.”
The walls of the studio are maroon and the gold ceiling is made of those tin tile things you see in old buildings. There are paintings hung all around the room, but they’re not real works of art. They’re examples made by the instructors. Some are Christmas-themed, others have meadows of flowers. One is a mountain landscape with a crude cabin in the foreground.
A small desk like a checkout counter sits off to the left, behind which is a wine bar with plastic glasses.
“Which one are we doing today?” I ask, looking around. We’re the first ones here, I notice.
“Which one do you want to do?”
I frown at him, but he just motions to the paintings on the walls.
“I don’t-”
“I rented out the studio.” Is that pink tingeing his cheeks?
I’m so focused on the fact that he’s blushing that it takes me a moment to realize what he said. I can barely get out a sound. My mouth opens and closes. Then opens and closes again. When it’s clear I’m unable to form a coherent thought, Brody speaks.
“I wanted to-” he breaks off, muttering something I can’t understand while rubbing the back of his neck and looking down.
“Brody, this is sweet.” Now I’m blushing. Fuck.
His eyes flick to mine, searching my face for any sign of sarcasm or ridicule.
“It’s ok?” he croaks.
“It’s sweet.” I nod and grin. “Let’s have some fun.”
A smile spreads across his face and he motions toward the desk so that I can lead the way.
“Good evening, Mr. Torrence,” says the short redhead behind the counter. Her eyes move from my very tall companion to me and her smile remains warm.
“I’m Sophie.”
“Welcome to Paint and Pinot. My name is Tilly. What can I get you to drink?”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not a painter,” Brody snickers, glancing over as I finish the last stroke on my painting. Hues of blue bring a lake to life, surrounded by a rainbow-colored meadow.
I nudge him with my elbow.
“You’re one to talk.” I nod at his painting with raised eyebrows. “Are those trees or some kind of monster?”
“Hey, I thought this was pretty good!”
“Oh, it’s lovely!” I laugh. “Just a little, er-” I grimace.
Brody’s eyes are sparkling while he watches me drop the brush into the cup of very dirty water.
“You’ll be able to pick these up tomorrow,” Tilly says. She takes the paintings and sets them on a cart next to the counter where she poured our wine. “They need time to dry.”
“Thank you so much.” I stand and head to the sink at the back to wash my hands before undoing my apron.
Brody imitates me and we hang our aprons on the wall.
“Thanks again, Tilly,” he says with a grin. “I’ll be back for the paintings tomorrow.”
“Are you going to hold mine hostage until I see you again?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe.” He shrugs and opens the door for me. “Are you up for some dinner?” The door closes behind us and we’re out in the LA heat. The sun is still well above the horizon, so there won’t be a break from it for a couple more hours.
“I could be convinced.”
“There’s a little cafe just down the street. It’s nothing special, but it’s good.”
“Lead the way.”
We walk without touching intentionally, but his fingers brush mine on occasion. Those sparks return, shooting up my arm and down to my core, with every graze.
“So, tell me-” I start, but Brody speaks at the same time.
“How was-”
We stop and I chew my bottom lip, waiting for him to speak.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.”
“Well, I was going to ask how your day was. ”
“I had a good day,” I say with a nod. “Nothing special.” Just edited content and scheduled a few posts in between sexting sessions. I can’t say any of that. I wonder if I should tell him. Just bite the bullet and admit it.
“Good, good.”
Brody stops at the front door of the Carmine Cafe. Below the name, painted in flowing script on the window, are the words ‘Italian Delights’. I glance up at him.
“Italian delights?”
“It’s delightful.” He shrugs and enters, holding the door behind him.
It’s a quaint little place with just a handful of two- and four-person tables, but I can see, straight out the back, a fenced-in patio that looks much bigger. All but one of the indoor tables are taken and the couple I can see outside look full as well. There’s an enormous display case with baked goods–breads, pastries, cakes, cookies, and so many more, all of which look perfect and identical. On the board behind the counter, I see a list of teas, coffees, soups, salads, and sandwiches.
“So much better than Panera,” I mumble, more to myself.
“I wouldn’t mention Panera to the owners,” Brody warns, but when I glance up at him, he’s smiling. “Sore subject.”
“Noted.” I nod. “Only Italian delights.”
“You got it.”
We order from the teenager behind the counter and head out the back to the patio with our sandwiches and drinks. There’s a table in the far corner, right up against a wall that’s covered in what I can only assume is fake ivy. It’s too green to be real, especially for August in LA. Even new to the area, I know that.
Once situated, I take a bite of my caprese sandwich, immediately closing my eyes with a moan. It’s quite possibly the most delicious sandwich I’ve ever had. Brody’s deep, rumbling laughter causes my eyes to snap open.
“That good, huh?”
“Delightful.”
I return my attention to my sandwich and we eat in silence for several minutes. The conversation around us is light, but I can’t really hear. Normally, I’d enjoy eavesdropping, but all I can think about is the man across from me and how it’s difficult for me to focus, just being this close to him. Even with a table between us.
A couple of the tables closest to us empty just as I finish my sandwich, leaving just the one near the door, a good twenty feet away .
“I’ll have to come back here.” I glance around the patio. “Maybe bring my roommate. She’d like it. We’re both suckers for baked goods.”
“Did you want to get something to take home?” He jerks his thumb toward the door, his expression genuine.
“No, no. I was just thinking. Complimenting your good taste, I guess.”
“Well, I’m out with you. I have impeccable taste.”
“Smooth.”
“I try.” Brody shrugs, but there’s a stiffness to the movement.
“This has been really fun.” Maybe if I confirm that it’s been a good date, he’ll relax. “Even if you’re a worse artist than me.”
“I’m a tech nerd,” Brody reminds me. “Not great with a paintbrush.”
“Security consultant, right?” I ask, trying to recall the exact words he used on KinkRink .
“Cybersecurity specialist.”
“What does that entail?”
“Have you heard of ethical hacking?”
“Like in the movies?” I ask, frowning. “When they hire thieves to break into a museum to test the security?”
“Kind of like that,” Brody chuckles. “But less spandex and fewer lasers.”
“Well, that’s boring.”
“I like it.” He shrugs. “It’s a challenge trying to break into different systems and find the weak points.”
“Remind me not to piss you off.” That should scare me, shouldn’t it?
“I only use my powers for good.”
“Do you like your boss?” It’s an inane question, but I just want to keep him talking. I want to draw this out.
“I do. She hired me right out of college and I’ve been working for her ever since. And the job is stable, allows me to save for the future and all that.”
“The future,” I repeat. Who wants a future with someone in porn? Doubt creeps into my mind.
“Yeah, you know,” Brody continues without realizing I’ve gone cold, “I want kids, but not anytime soon,” he adds in a rush. “When my partner and I are ready.”
“Kids would be great.” There’s no enthusiasm in my tone. I used to want kids. Maybe I still do, but I can’t focus on anything more than six months out right now. I’m finally finding consistency. I feel like I’ve only just begun.
“Are you ok?” Brody reaches up to caress my cheek and warmth spreads across my skin at his touch. “I’m not scaring you, am I? Talking about kids on the second date feels kind of heavy, now that I think about it.” He blushes, but I smile at the worry on his face. “Is there anything I can do?”
Pin me down and make me scream your name.
Horndog.
I really need to stop thinking about my job so damn much.
“I’m good.” Great response, Sophie . I cross my arms over my chest and scrunch up my nose briefly.
Brody stays focused on me. There’s something going on behind those green eyes. I’m not sure what storm is brewing in his mind, but do I want to? Maybe now is the time to tell him about my job. Save him some time down the road.
I’ve always wondered when most people in the industry tell a new partner about their job or side hustle. I can’t imagine most just blurt it out on the first date. The fifth feels too late. Maybe there’s no right answer either.
The two women seated near the door stand and walk into the cafe, leaving us alone.
“I’ve got a confession,” I mutter, looking down at my hands and clasping them in my lap. I force myself to take a deep breath before meeting Brody’s eyes again. The worry in them causes my jaw to clench. “It’s-it’s nothing bad ,” I stutter. “Not really. It’s just something I- Well, not everyone is ok with it. If that makes sense.”
I sigh and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table and holding my forehead in my hands.
“Sophie, it’s ok.” Brody reaches out, gently brushing his fingertips along my wrist. “I think you’ll find I have a pretty open mind.”
I chance a glance his way. His expression is sincere as if he wants to support me while I tell him something that’s definitely going to make a guy like him run for the Hollywood Hills. I stare back down at the table.
After a few seconds, I can’t stand it anymore and I blurt it out.
“I make amateur porn.”