6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christian

“Hi, Grandma.”

“Christian,” my grandmother says warmly, opening her arms wide. “Get over here.”

I head over to her chair and give my grandma a hug. Like me, she has dark hair, although hers has more silver running through it than black these days. We look a lot alike, in fact. I never knew my dad, but it’s clear I take after the Korean half of my family, a fact my blonde-haired, blue-eyed mother seemed to love and hate in equal measure.

“How’s jail?” I ask, leaning back.

My grandma chuckles. She moved into an assisted living facility—as she insists I call it—after a nasty fall busted her hip. She doesn’t get around all that well these days, and her decision to move, as she likes to remind me, was the best option.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I miss seeing her at home, in the apartment where I now live. I’ll always think of it as hers .

“It’s far from a jail cell,” she says, giving me a gentle prod. “Back up. Let me see you.”

With a laugh, I step back and fluff my skirt. Opening my arms wide, I ask, “Well?”

“That’s a gorgeous one, sweetheart. Chiffon?”

“Yep,” I say, sweeping my skirt under me as I take a seat on the end of her bed.

“Bet those layers took a while.”

They did. The skirt is long, reaching all the way to my ankles, and layered enough for the white fabric not to be see-through. It wasn’t the easiest material to work with, but I’m really happy with the end result. I paired the skirt with a black crop top today and boots of the same color. I like the blend of soft and hard.

“It was tricky, but Bernie was a champ,” I tell my grandma.

She smiles, always happy to hear about my sewing. “Give any more thought to selling your pieces?”

I fidget with my skirt. “I don’t know who’d buy them, Grandma.”

She hums. “Boys like you, I imagine.”

I nod, but I wouldn’t have a clue where to start when it comes to opening a business. The legalities alone make my head spin, not to mention figuring out how to sell online. It’s so much to learn, and I’m not even a professional seamster. I don’t have training. Sewing is just my hobby.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, grateful, at least, for her unwavering support.

My grandma smiles, and conversation turns to other topics. I stay with her for a good while, the two of us chatting and playing war with a deck of cards until it’s her lunchtime. As she goes to eat with her friends, I head to work.

I’m filming with Emil today.

Well, pseudo-filming. It’s more a trial run to make sure everything runs smoothly with the live feed. But it will be me and Emil. On a bed. Together.

My stomach does a strange little hop just thinking about it. I’ve seen the man on a bed— naked , no less—dozens of times. But this will be different.

Because I’ll be there with him.

I use my code to get into the building and follow the sound of chatter to Studio 2. Alex and a man I don’t recognize are inside, practically giggling as they huddle together in front of a laptop. Some of the crew is here, too, getting the set ready.

“Hey,” I say, heading toward Alex, since I know him best. The man makes it near impossible to feel like a stranger.

His blonde head pops up, and he gives me a swift smile, followed by a once-over. “Damn, boo. Love the skirt.”

“Thanks,” I reply, giving it a pluck.

Alex pokes the man next to him in the cheek. “Christian, this is Kipp, Teddy’s boytoy.”

“Husband,” Kipp corrects, shoving Alex’s shoulder.

Alex snickers. “Same diff.”

Kipp rolls his eyes before giving me a smile. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” I answer. “Is Emil here yet?”

“In the locker room,” Alex says.

I thank him and head that way, leaving Alex and Kipp to whatever they’re in cahoots over. When I push the door to the locker room open, I find Emil seated inside on a bench. I’m not at all surprised to see a textbook on his lap, but the sight still makes me chuckle.

Emil looks up, huffing a self-conscious laugh before shutting his book.

“Studying?” I ask.

“Shocking, right?”

“Quite,” I tease.

I walk slowly past the bank of lockers until I find the one labeled “Vixen.” A smile pulls at my lips as I trace the letters with my fingertip. When I turn Emil’s way, I catch his eyes darting down my body before he looks away.

Mm . Would it be wrong of me to ask what he was looking at just to see his blush again?

Probably.

“So, ready to go to bed with me?” I ask instead, taking a seat beside him.

Aaand there’s that blush anyway. Oops ?

“Yeah. Uh. Yep,” he says.

I keep my grin to myself. “Have any tips for me?”

His eyes widen. “Tips?”

“For being in front of the cameras,” I say, wondering where, precisely, his mind went. “Anything I should know so I don’t mess up filming?”

“Oh.” He huffs a laugh, nudging his glasses. “Yeah, um… You’ll want to be aware of where the cameramen are. Keep yourself angled toward the wide shot, and if you’re, like, going down on someone, tilt your head a bit so your face is in view.”

Well, damn . There’s a picture.

“And normally, I’d say don’t look at the cameras,” he adds. “But in this case, I think we’re supposed to. But, um, also look at me a lot because people like to see that.”

“That I can do,” I say easily.

“Um, good,” he mutters. “Yeah, so that’s pretty much it. But don’t worry too much about getting everything right. Jerome won’t expect you to have it all figured out the first couple times, and he or Nathaniel will tell you if you need to make adjustments.”

“You really like it here, huh?”

I can tell from his tone. Emil speaks about the people here with a sort of fond familiarity that’s usually reserved for family, not coworkers.

“I do,” he answers. “I know what a lot of people think about sex workers. But the people here…they’re good. And I don’t think sex is something to be ashamed about. I might have my hang-ups, but that’s not one of them.”

I’m tempted to ask what his hang-ups are , but I refrain. “I agree. Sex can be an amazing experience. I think, for some, powerful even.”

He nods. “Yeah, um… Yeah.”

“What?” I ask, having a feeling he was going to say something else.

“I just—I figured you were pretty open-minded about it considering, well, the first thing you ever told me was to leave my curtains open so you could watch me jerk off.”

I huff a startled laugh, eyes caught on Emil’s little smirk. “I didn’t tell you to. I said I wouldn’t mind it. There’s a difference,” I defend with absolutely zero heat. “I never thought you’d actually do it, you know.”

“Well,” he says, blushing again.

“Mhm. Well, indeed.”

Emil picks at the seam of his jeans. “Um, are you ready? We should probably get out there.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it, Specs.”

Emil puts his book in his locker before we head to Studio 2. The set looks complete now. There’s a bed stationed against one wall, with a fluffy white comforter on top, and other details fill out the room—pictures and decor, all of it making the space look like a real bedroom. Above are lights suspended from the ceiling, and just outside the set sits a large camera on wheels.

“Wow,” I mutter.

“Pretty neat, isn’t it?” Emil says.

I nod.

I can’t say I ever had dreams of being on the big screen, but I did enjoy my high school stint in acting. There’s something magical about being on stage, or, in this case, on set. You get to put your all into it, and no one can tell you to stop being so bold or dramatic. No one tells you to wipe off your makeup or take off your skirt.

I think, for me, theater was a way to feel comfortable in my skin when my parent wouldn’t allow for that. It’s different for me now. I am comfortable in my skin. I express myself the way I want to every single day.

But as I stand in front of the lit-up set, I’m hit with familiar jitters I haven’t felt in years. I won’t be reading Shakespeare today, but this is something I know how to do. It’s something I didn’t realize I missed.

“You’re smiling,” Emil says, looking at me curiously.

“What can I say?” I reply. “I’m excited to get into bed with this cute guy I know.”

He huffs a laugh, looking down at his shoes.

“All right,” comes Jerome’s big, booming voice. “Felix, Vixen, you’re here. Good. Tink and…Kipp. Get outta here. You’ll be watching from a private room. Keep your comments on the up-and-up, gentlemen.”

Alex snorts, clearly not making any promises. But he and Kipp leave the room, the laptop with them.

“Let’s get this started,” Jerome calls.

I give Emil’s arm a nudge. “Come on, Specs. We’re up.”

Emil walks with me over to the bed. I hop up first, patting the spot next to me, and he climbs on, a small smile on his face.

“Here’s how this will go,” Jerome says, addressing the entire crew. “Because we can’t edit these lives, we’re going with a single camera setup, like a typical home video. Otherwise, we risk another getting caught in the shot. Vixen, Felix, there’s a tablet on the end table next to you. It’s opened up to the live chat. As you’ll see, Tink and Kipp are already having a good time.”

I glance at the tablet. The text is enlarged enough for me to be able to read it without getting closer, and, at the moment, it’s filled with eggplant emojis, a few suggestions to take off our clothes, and one rather explicit request involving Emil’s ass and my tongue. I chuckle, realizing the camera must already be recording, at least to our limited viewers down the hall.

Jerome shakes his head, heaving a sigh. “Let’s try taking a few of those comments down just to make sure we can.”

The assistant at the edge of the room nods, his own tablet in hand. A second later, some of the eggplants disappear.

“Good, good,” Jerome says. “All right. Felix, Vixen, go ahead and get started. Move around a bit, try out some positions, imitate sex. We’ll make sure everything looks good from our end.”

“Damn,” I mutter, quirking a smile at Emil. “I guess we’re skipping the foreplay and jumping right into it.”

He chuckles, adjusting his glasses. “Here,” he says, lying back and motioning me forward, reminding me that he’s the pro in this situation. My pulse jumps as he opens his legs wide in invitation, and I hitch up my skirt, crawling forward and settling on top of him.

He blows out a breath, our faces so close I can feel it.

“Okay?” I say quietly.

He nods.

“So… What sort of things don’t you like?” I ask, focusing on Emil as the crew moves around us. “Jerome said the studio sticks to relatively vanilla sex, but do you have any hard or soft limits? Anything I should stay away from?”

Emil swallows. “Um. No degradation,” he says. “Don’t call me a slut or anything like that.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“No DP, either,” he goes on. “One dick or toy is plenty. And use your other arm,” he adds as I stroke his hair back from his forehead. “You’re blocking my face.”

“Right,” I say, lips twitching as I switch arms.

“And, uh, no spitting unless it’s to wet my asshole,” he says, making my pulse— and cock —kick up. He clears his throat, clearly having felt that, considering our crotches are nestled together. “Everything else is fair game.”

I hum, my thoughts running wild. I know Emil enjoys playing with dildos. Maybe he’d let me do the same for our first video. I could stretch him open with something small, maybe have the viewers pick. And then go bigger. And bigger. And then, maybe, I could dick him down until he shoots all over his stomach and those pretty pink nipples of his.

“Don’t forget to check the chat,” Jerome calls, making me jolt.

“Right,” I say, eyes pinging to the screen.

You guys are hot.

Bow-chicka bow wow.

*eggplant emoji*

*water spray emoji*

Take it off!

I snort. “What do you want to see go?” I ask, grinning at the camera.

Not the skirt!

Emil clears his throat. “Yeah, um… You should definitely wear the skirt for our video.”

“Yeah? This one?”

There’s a chorus of emphatic yes from around the room.

I chuckle.

“The, um, chain was nice, too,” Emil says, not quite meeting my eye, even though his dick is pressed to mine and his legs are bracketing my hips in an intimate hold. “Not that I don’t like the little jewel you’re wearing. But, uh, yeah. The chain was pretty.”

“Noted,” I say softly, my pulse thrumming. “Emil… Could I kiss you? Before we do this for real, I mean.”

His eyes flash to mine, and he licks his lips. “Um, yeah. Sure. But you can’t call me Emil while we’re film—”

Emil’s words cut off as I bring my lips to his. His body melts, pliant below me, his fingers gracing my sidesand lifting my shirt. His lips are smooth. Soft. The bottom is plump. It’s only practice, but I find myself sinking into it wholeheartedly. Everything else vanishes until there’s only Specs and me. His lips and mine meeting for the first time, our bodies tangled, hearts beating less than half a foot apart. It’s sweet, and it’s serene, and it’s absolutely filthy… And I want more.

Fuck , do I want more.

With effort, I pull back, and Specs blinks up at me.

“Okay?” I ask.

“I, uh. Yeah. Good,” he answers, fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. They trail up over my ribs before reversing course, making me shiver. Emil seems to catch himself, hands stilling.

“You can touch me,” I assure him. “Anytime. You have my permission.”

He nods quickly, a blush rising on his cheeks. The sight of it makes me want to kiss him again. So I do, a tiny peck meant to set him at ease. But Emil catches my lips in return, a beautiful smile lighting his face, and my breath hitches. His air becomes mine as butterflies take off in my stomach, and I realize…

Oh, no.

Do I have a crush?

I dismiss the thoughtimmediately. I’ve never wanted a relationship before, and I don’t want one now. It’s only affection I feel.

Right?

“All right,” Jerome shouts. “New position. Change it up.”

Right .

Lifting, I swing myself around, putting Emil and I in a sixty-nine. I heft my skirt so it’s not over his face, and it settles against his chest, giving him what I’m sure is a perfect view of my thong.

“Oh my God,” he mumbles, palms landing on my thighs.

“Okay?” I ask, looking back.

“Oh my God.”

“Sooo,” I say slowly. “This is the part where, if your cock is in my mouth, I should be aware of my angles, right?”

Emil coughs, hands flexing on my thighs. I hide my smirk against his leg.

Oh, yeah . This is going to be a lot of fun.