4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Christian

Specs looks freaked out, his big eyes blinking at me in slow repetition.

No, not just Specs , I remind myself. Emil. My kinky neighbor finally has a name.

I can’t blame him for being spooked when I was equally as shocked to walk into this studio and find him staring back at me. I suppose, in a ridiculously roundabout way, it makes perfect sense. Emil clearly gets off on being watched, so him working in porn fits. I just didn’t expect it.

Nor did I think this is how we’d finally meet.

“You…” Emil manages after a moment, his question evident in the half-formed sentence.

“Me,” I confirm gently.

He shakes his head a little, and my gut sinks. Is he…upset? Before I have a chance to ask, someone steps up next to us.

“Hey!” the newcomer says. “I’m Tanner.”

“Oh,” I say. “Noel’s cousin.”

He nods, offering his hand to shake. “Yep, that’s me.”

Emil edges away, a blush on his cheeks. For a moment, I consider chasing after him. But I don’t want to put him on the spot any more than I already have, so I accept Tanner’s handshake and let Emil have his privacy. Hopefully, he just needs a few minutes to process.

“Thanks so much for answering my questions the other day,” I tell Tanner. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he says, seemingly happy to have given me a rundown and recommendation of the place.

Talking to Tanner did help solidify my decision to audition for Elite 8 Studios. But it was meeting Jerome and Nathaniel after the scout sent me to the studio that really sealed the deal.

I wasn’t sure what to expect of a business that makes bank from sex work. But the place is clean, the people respectful, and when I laid out my conditions—in particular the fact that I don’t want to bottom—neither Jerome nor Nathaniel batted an eye. They both nodded, Nathaniel made a note, and Jerome asked me if I had any other limits they should be aware of.

I was shocked, to say the least.

When they offered me the job, I didn’t hesitate to accept it. I thought of Specs. Of trusting my gut.

And now, somehow, that decision led me right back to the man himself.

I find Emil in the crowd, his back to me as he talks with the boom operator who introduced himself as Marco.

“Have you done this before?” Tanner asks, pulling my attention.

“Porn?” I check.

He chuckles. “Well, yeah.”

“No,” I admit, huffing a laugh. “Brand new.”

I don’t think mentioning my brief stint in high school drama would be relevant. Sure, I was told there would be scripts to follow for certain scenes, but fucking in front of the cameras is a lot different than what I did a decade ago in my high school gym.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me saying it, but fans are going to love you,” Tanner says.

“That they will,” another voice cuts in, the only feminine one here. A woman with a perky ponytail and impeccable makeup holds out her hand. I’m careful to avoid her talons as we shake.

“Christian,” I offer.

“Raylin,” she answers in kind, letting me go. Her eyes sweep over me from head to toe, appraising. “Nice hair. And love the skirt. Do you wax?”

I cough. “I’m guessing I do now?”

“Sure do, sweets. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” With that, Raylin gives me a wink and walks off.

Tanner winces. “Don’t envy you that.”

“Yeah, well…” I shake my head, huffing a laugh. “I suppose it’s a small price to pay.”

Over the next half hour, I meet the remaining members of the cast and crew. There are a lot of faces and names, but I do my best to commit each and every one to memory.

When I see Emil near the edge of the room, finally on his own, I break away and head in his direction. He spots me coming right away and straightens, pushing his glasses up his nose. I’ve seen him do that a hundred times, if not more, and a smile pulls at the corners of my lips before I think better of it. Emil looks wary.

I stop in front of him with a small sigh. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen. “What for?”

“For surprising you? I didn’t know you worked here, Emil. Please believe that. And it wasn’t my intention to catch you off guard, but I couldn’t not tell who I am. I wouldn’t have felt right keeping that to myself considering, well, we’ll be working together.”

He nods, brows furrowed.

“Did I wreck things?” I ask.

There go his eyes again, bouncing wide. It’s a little surreal to be standing here in front of Specs, seeing all the nuances of his face I couldn’t make out clearly from my window. It’s a good face. Open and inviting. But I can’t help but feel like I’ve disappointed him. Like maybe he didn’t want to know the person who’s been watching him from behind the blinds. Maybe that was part of the appeal.

But Emil shakes his head. “No. You didn’t, uh…wreck anything. I’m not upset. I just, uh… I never thought… Shit .”

His cheeks start to redden, and I cock my head.

“I just…” He cuts off again, fidgeting with his glasses.

It sinks in. Slowly.

“Are you… shy ?” I ask in awe.

He blushes harder.

“Oh my God. Specs ,” I nearly whisper, unable to stop my grin. “I’ve seen you butt-ass naked with four fingers up your ass, and you never once had your hands in front of your eyes like you do now. What are you doing?”

He groans, but there’s a smile on his face that has me huffing a laugh.

“Are you seriously hiding from me?”

“I can’t help it,” he says, literally peeking through his fingers. “I’m so embarrassed.”

My smile slips. “Emil, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to talk about…that.”

His hands drop, leaving his glasses crooked over his perplexed expression. “I… I’m not embarrassed by that . Or mad, I promise. I just… I never expected you to be…” He waves a hand up and down in front of me before finishing with, “ You .”

“And…is that a good discovery or a bad one?” I check.

His eyes slip down to my skirt before trailing back up to my face. “Please don’t make me answer that.”

Oh .

My insides ping, but Emil glances quickly away again, and, since the last thing I want to do is embarrass him further, I offer a change of topic. “Would you show me around the studio?”

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah, you,” I answer, chuckling. “Is there someone else I’m staring at?”

He pulls in a sharp breath, and, ah, damn it . There’s that blush again. I hold back a groan. Specs might very well be the end of me.

“I can do that,” he finally says.

“Lead the way.”

I trail after Emil as he heads out of Studio 1, many of our coworkers still inside enjoying the brunch buffet. The hall is quiet, and Emil glances over at me as we walk.

“You probably went down that way,” he says, pointing down the hall where I met with Jerome and Nathaniel. “Those are offices and private rooms that we use for some of our solo videos.”

“Do you do a lot of solo stuff?”

He shakes his head. “Not me personally, but some of the guys do toy promos or jerk-off type videos.”

He says it so casually, as if talking about sex is far easier for him than whatever it was making him blush a moment ago.

At the next hall, he says, “There’s our gym. It’s not huge, but it has some decent equipment from what I’ve heard. I don’t use it.”

I hum, and he leads us on.

“Cosmetology, storage room for props, and here’s our break room,” he says, motioning toward each. He stops at the break room, pushing the door open, and I peek inside. “It’s always stocked with snacks and drinks. You’re welcome to any of it.”

“That’s really considerate.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice bonus,” he says, letting the door shut. “Last up is the locker room.”

He opens that door, too, and I step inside. The room is well-lit, with a bank of lockers and some large mirrors along one wall. There are sinks and toilets, and around a corner, a row of curtained shower stalls. I walk back toward the lockers, looking at the names on each.

“Which is yours?” I ask, fingers running over the metal doors.

Emil steps over to the one that reads “Felix” and gives it a tap. “This is me.”

My lips quirk. “Suits you. It’s very…”

“Nerdy?” he says with a laugh.

“In the best way,” I answer, meaning it.

He clears his throat. “Well, Vixen suits you.”

“Does it?”

He nods, although his eyes flit away again, like he’s self-conscious. It’s so strange to see. I never would have pegged my neighbor as the shy type, not after what I’ve seen him do.

“The people here…” I say slowly. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

I got that impression during my interview and while meeting everyone today, but I trust Specs would tell if that’s not the case. I’d hate to end up in another toxic work environment.

He nods, though. “Yeah, everyone is seriously great. Jerome wouldn’t let anyone get away with shit. Nor would Alex. The guy might be a menace,” he says with a huff, “but he’s a good menace.”

“Alex is Tink, right?”

He nods again.

“Can I ask how you got into porn?” Quickly, I add, “Unless that’s personal.”

“It is, a bit,” he says, shifting on his feet. “But I have a feeling you can guess.”

Yeah, I can. Emil is an exhibitionist. I wonder if the people here know that about him. If they know he likes to show off, even in the privacy of his own home where the only person who can see him is me.

Emil’s cheeks color a little, as if his thoughts went the same direction as mine.

“And you?” he asks. “How’d you find us?”

I’d say fate, but I know Emil doesn’t believe in that. I’m not sure what I believe—if there’s any sort of rhyme or reason to the chaos of this world or if, as Emil said, it’s all just a beautiful sort of happenstance.

“Chance, I guess?” I answer.

“Lucky us,” he mumbles almost entirely under his breath.

“Lucky me, too.”

Emil ducks his head, cheeks flushed, and it’s so endearing, my chest squeezes tight. He makes for the exit, leaving me jogging to catch up.

“So, that’s everything,” he says, holding the door as I pass through. “If you have questions or whatever, just let me know.”

“Emil,” I say softly.

He stops, facing me in the hall outside of the locker room.

“I’m glad I got the chance to meet you,” I tell him seriously. “But I understand if this changes things between us. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Ever . I’ll follow your lead.”

He blinks. “Nothing has changed.”

“No?” I ask, a little surprised.

“No. Except… I know your name now. And we’ll probably be fucking at some point.”

I huff a laugh, and Emil smiles, a small thing.

“But the other stuff?” he says, shaking his head. “Hasn’t changed.”

Relief hits, making me realize just how worried I’d been about that. I would have hated to lose Emil’s friendship. Even more than the view outside my window.

“You can always close your curtains,” I tell him, needing to do so for my own peace of mind.

The slant of his lips this time is all smirk. “I know.”

Well, then . There’s the brazen show-off I know so well.

I chuckle, and Emil waves me down the hall. We rejoin the stragglers in Studio 1, and I learn a little more about these men and one woman I’ll be working with. Emil leaves before me for class, but his, “See you later, Christian,” feels like a promise.

Before I go, Nathaniel hands me a schedule. Jerome has me slotted in with Raylin in a couple days for, yep , hair removal. On Friday, I film an intro to myself, letting the fans know who I am, probably flashing some skin. And then, next week, I’ll work with my scene partner for the lives, getting comfortable before we film for real.

There’s no name yet beside my own, and I can’t help but wonder who I’ll be paired with.

I know who I’m hoping for.

When I get home, it’s early still. Only midafternoon. I sit down in front of Bernie, her plastic body free of dust or smudges. She’s the cleanest thing in my apartment and always will be, not that the rest of the space is all that untidy. I thread some white, all-purpose thread through her needle before grabbing the bundle of fabric I’m turning into a skirt.

My mind and body settles into the familiar rhythm as I start to sew. I remember sitting in almost this exact spot when I was only twelve years old, back when the apartment belonged to my grandmother. My mom had just dropped me off for a visit, and, at the time, I was upset with her because she wouldn’t buy me a skirt I wanted from the store. “It’s girls’ clothes,” she told me. “Not for you.” When my mom left for her job at the diner, my grandma sat down with me on the floor in front of the couch and asked if I was a girl. There was no distaste in her tone, only honest curiosity. She genuinely wanted to know, and I could tell my grandma would have supported me no matter my answer.

I shook my head, though, because even then I knew I was a boy. I just liked skirts.

My grandma squeezed my shoulder and brought me over to her sewing machine, and, together, we made me a skirt. My mom never knew. Not about that one. I’d wear it every time I visited my grandma, and I’d take it off before my mom came to pick me up.

My grandmother was the only person in my life who asked me who I was growing up. Who listened instead of telling me no.

The day I moved in here, that sewing machine broke. I cried when it happened, and it took a good few months before I was able to bring myself to buy Bernie. I don’t regret it, but I do miss the old metal machine I learned to sew on.

Thoughts of my past scatter when a light flicks on across the alleyway. Specs’s light. He walks into his room, disappearing for a moment into the area where I can’t see him. When he returns, he looks toward the window.

With only a moment’s hesitation, I reach over and pull up the blinds. We stare at one another for a long beat, and I wait to see what he’ll do. If he’ll close his curtains.

He doesn’t. He plops onto his bed, sets an energy drink beside him, and opens up a textbook.

With a small exhale, I go back to sewing my skirt. I wonder what Specs will think of the white.