Noahhh

“Shh, hurry!” Lexie loudly whispers—probably to Christina, and they giggle before I hear what seems to be climbing out the window.

“Lexie?” I whisper. I know she can’t hear me like this, but it’s better than a full yell and a scold from my mom.

I jump out of bed and quietly sneak into Lexie’s bedroom, my pink socks looking grey in this state of darkness. Her bedroom is the complete opposite of mine–sort of; clothes scattered on the floor, DIY bracelets and posters, like the average “alternative” older sibling you’d see in a movie. Her bed looks full, but I know it’s a trap, so I pull the covers to reveal two pillows and wigs on top.

“Lexie, you son of a bitch,” I murmur. I feel the cool air reach onto my body, and I look up; the window is open enough for a person to crouch through, and a million questions run through my head.

How long has she been doing this? How does Mom never know? Where does she even go? I had to know somehow.

I hurriedly tip-toe back into my own room, changing into jean shorts and black socks. I don’t bother changing the bright tank top I have on, I could just steal one of Lexie’s hoodies.

And after a few minutes of struggling trying to find a hoodie from Lexie’s that fits (in the dark) and climbing out the window, I’m on my way to…hopefully find her.

I actually didn’t know why I wanted to find her. I didn’t want to rat her out–she always lived rebellious but always had a girl's back. I always looked up to her.

But I never saw her smoke or drink, I only witnessed the aftersmell of it and the slight concentrated smell on her breath. Even if I can’t deny that she does it, I can’t imagine her doing it.

It felt as if I blacked out for most of my hike on foot, but the low glow of what looked like a fire along with the slight sound of music gave me an obvious answer that I had already arrived.

I adjust my Lexie’s jacket and fix my hair before I continue my pace, changing into a brisk walk toward the crowd of people. As I go, the bodies become bigger, the faces become visible, but not too observable from the dark void of the night swallowing most of the bonfire’s light.

There’s people conversing with one another, enjoying drinks or smoking. I don’t know what to do, I’m just standing here like an outcasted stick. I search the beach for Lexie or Christina, but there’s too many people around for me to stand and study without looking like a creep.

“Hey,” a boy walks up, one beer in hand. “Welcome. You looking for somebody?”

I turn to study his face–a smug smile tugging at his mouth as he takes another sip of his beer. His breath smells strong, the beer comes out as if it’ll get me too.

“I—uh, yeah, Christina…?” I give an awkward smile, my voice cracking at her name. I look at the guy and his eyes widen, “Oh shit, Koch? Yeah, she’s over there.” He points with the same hand that's wrapped around the brown bottle, placing the other on my shoulder blade to guide me.

He leads me closer to Christina, her face becoming more recognizable as we inch toward her vicinity. She’s not far from the big bonfire bringing everyone together, chatting with other partygoers with both knees up, hand in beer as they fall limp and relaxed on her knees.

She’s more social this time, her friend passing a joint as an offer. She takes it, bringing the tip to her lips, inhaling and passing it to the next person.

I lock my knees when we’re at a comfortable distance, far enough where I can see her in the glow and far enough where the fire blazes over my face in the distance.

The person bringing me to her also stops once he realizes his free arm on my shoulder blade is left behind.

“Hey. Nervous?”

He tilts his head and looks at me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he takes another sip of his beer.

I bite the inside of my cheek, struggling to find words before the silence becomes too long and I lose the time to answer at a comfortable pace.

“Uh. Yeah, yeah, I didn’t like, need to talk to her–or anything…I mean, I don’t know her that well.” I lie as I stammer, my voice going quiet, but I get the words through. 

I’d like to say I know Christina well but not too well, like Donna knowing Laura—or Audrey knowing of Laura.

Lexie always knew her better than me–they were inseparable, like twins bonded on a hip. We’ve had our fair share of interactions, but it always feels like she’s Lexie’s dog, following her around everywhere.

“I get it, it’s okay. She’s kind of intimidating at first.” He gives a smug smile which I try to reciprocate, forcing my lips into a small grin.

“Um, I should go home. My mom is gonna freak.” I point back with my thumb, but before I turn and walk away, he stops me.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? Maybe one for the walk home?” He points at the many coolers nearby, moving his grip to my shoulder blade again to guide me.

I haven’t made up my mind and yet he’s still taking me. My mind is racing with “what ifs” and other consequences I could face—my heart starts to pound so hard it might rip itself out of my chest.

As we keep walking, I turn my head, observing those who are closer to me now, and my gaze stops at Lexie, who’s making out with some random boy I’ve never met before.

She pulls away from the kiss to take another drag from her cigarette, pulling the boy's face close with both of her hands and exhaling smoke into his mouth.

Something in my chest drops when I see her—when I see my sister. It’s so strange to see her in that state, to watch her in action when I’m not there. My vision stays on Lexie and that boy as I’m dragged closer to the cooler, my head turning as I walk.

“Have you shotgunned before?” He asks.

“Huh—what?” I furrow my brow, completely lost on what he just asked me.

“You know,” He opens the cooler and takes out a can of beer, “when you puncture a hole on the side and chug?” he closes the cooler, handing the beer to me as he closes the lid with his other hand.

“No. That seems pretty inconvenient,” I say, and he laughs, the smell of beer making its way toward me. It’s like a fucking taunt, a tease that I’m a goody two-shoes who hasn’t drank before.

“Just try it. It’s a nice party trick, easy.” He puts his beer down and pulls a pocket knife and takes the cover off, turning the can to its side and puncturing a hole.

“Have you had that knife in your pocket the entire time you were talking to me?” I uncomfortably laugh as I watch him, and he smiles as he puts the knife down on the cooler with his beer, handing the can to me.

“Yeah, but I figured I didn’t need to use it on a pretty girl like you.”

I furrow my brows at that statement.

“Kidding, kidding. I don’t do that stuff, I just brought it to shotgun. Promise.”

“Oh, okay.” I sigh out of relief and smile, taking the punctured can in my right hand.

“Okay. So you’re gonna want to take the beer and put it to your lips, but keep the tab facing the sky.”

I follow as he says, taking the punctured part to my lips, immediately feeling the bitterness of the carbonated liquid. I tilt to the side, taking the pull tab to face up.

“Good, now pull the tab and chug.” He sits down on the cooler, taking his unfinished beer in hand to watch me.

I pull the tab and chug, the burn coming through easily. I close my eyes and keep chugging until the can is empty, but some of the liquid ends up missing my lips and spilling down my forearms. I drop the can and immediately cough; the burn becomes persistent and my heart starts to pound with angry thuds that make the hurt hard to ignore.

“Holy shit,” I cough and laugh, and he reciprocates–a genuine laugh with a spark in his eyes that I can’t help but look at a little too long.

“You uh, wanna try together?” Before I can answer, he's standing again, opening the cooler and taking out two more beer cans.

“Um, sure,” I answer a little too quickly.

He smiles again, looking down to puncture a hole inside the can. He hands it to me, puncturing the other, and counts us down to drink.

“Okay, three, two, one..” by the time he’s finished counting, we turn our heads and pull the tab, chugging the carbonated liquid.

It feels like adding gasoline to a fire. The burn trails down my throat again, this time worse, and I almost choke. He finishes his beer quicker than me, obvious sign he’s experienced, and watches me choke on the alcohol.

“You okay?” He chuckles, and I drop the almost empty can, holding my stomach while I expel an awkward mix of chuckling and coughing.

“Yeah, yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe.” I smile. “I never got your name, by the way.”

“Mark. And what’s yours?”

I introduce myself to him.

“Nice to meet you, newbie shotgun.” He bows like an actor at the end of a play, which makes me laugh harder than I would’ve. I can feel the alcohol traveling through me, strumming every chord in my body to make me feel like I’m floating in space.

“Nice to meet you, too.” I sit next to him and look up at the sky, my eyes feeling heavy as I gaze at the stars. I accidentally lose my head balance as I examine and I falter, my cheek landing on his shoulder.

“Shit, sorry…” I giggle hard–a little too hard. I apologize, but I can’t get myself to move.

“You’re okay.” I feel his shoulder bounce up and down as he chuckles lightly, followed with what felt like a light pressure on my leg.

I look down to see his hand wrapped around my inner thigh. I look back up to see him still gazing at the sky, taking another sip of his beer. I felt good, but now I’m unsure, and I immediately stand up from the cooler.

“I–uhm.” I stutter.

Great. Now he’s gonna convince you to stay.

“Hm?” He hums, and I take a deep breath, my hands fidgeting as I scramble to find my words.

“It’s getting late, I should go–” I exhale, but I’m cut off by him shaking his head and interrupting me.

“Nooo, you should stay….you have time…” Mark slurs his words, a tinge of unusual intention in his voice. “Pleeeaaase?”

“I..actually don’t. I need to get back before my mom finds out,” I try to back up, but he stands and grabs my wrist, twisting me until my back is on his chest.

“Mmm, what if you stayed here until dawn?” he mumbles. He’s way too drunk.

“No, please. Let me go,” I untwist myself from him, but his grip tightens as his nails start to dig in the skin right next to my vein.

“Stay.”

“I’m good, just please let me go–” 

“I said to fucking stay, bitch.” He pulls me back hard, and I place my free hand on my chest for distance before I get too close again.

Tears prick at my eyes as my heart pounds harder with regret; I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t have looked for Lexie. I can’t get my grip off him, my hand slides away as I try to push his hand off my wrist.

“Let me fucking go! Let me–”

“Hey!” A voice yells.

We both looked in the direction where the voice was heard.

Christina.

Christina walks toward us, and I feel his grip loosen as she gets closer.

“Are you fucking serious, Mark?”

“What? She wants to stay, so leave us aloneee…” He slurs his words even more, but Christina isn’t in the mood for it.

“Let her go.” She inches closer to Mark, and they’re so close they can probably feel each other's breath.

“What are you gonna do about it, Koch?” He tries to pull me back and takes a sip of his beer, but she stops him from doing so by grabbing his bicep.

“What the fuck? You know she’s 16, right?” Shit. Lexie.

I hear my sister as she gets closer—practically brisk walking toward us—and puts one hand on Mark’s shoulder, the other on Christina's.

“Christina, back up.” And she follows. Lexie’s in place of Christina now–but I look away.

“That’s my fucking sister, you creep. Let go.”

“Shes…shit, sorry–” He stutters and finally lets go, immediately backing up and away from the three of us.

“What the fuck are you doing here? And why are you in my jacket?” Lexie asks sharply. I still look away, but she grabs my jaw and forces my gaze on her.

“Answer me.”

My eyes widen as I hear her tone get harsher, tears welling in my eyes.

“Lexie, calm the fuck down, will you?” Christina speaks up, practically glaring at Lexie.

“You–” Lexie pauses and exhales hard. I can tell her anger is getting to her, she’s probably restraining from punching me right now. “You willingly came here. You’re 16–actually–freshly 16! What the fuck is wrong with you? Did he give you drinks? What if he spiked them?” She yells, and I can’t bear the tears anymore; I immediately break down in my hands, and I can hear Christina muttering something to Lexie.

“I’m sorry, Lex…I’m so, so, sorry…” I slur my words, but all she does is click her teeth and cross her arms.

“You’re drunk?” She scoffs and stabs the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “We’re going home.”

───

“Come on.” Christina gives me the green light to step up on the roof. I plant one foot on the shingles, taking one hand in Christina’s. Her fingers wrap around my palm as she pulls me up–I almost stumble, but she places one firm hand on my shoulder.

“Easy, easy. Don’t tumble off, please.”

“And don’t wake mom up.” Lexie adds from the ground. She has her arms crossed with the jacket that I wore in her hands.

“Lex, please.”

I squat and let go of Christina’s hand once I have balance, crawling my way back into Lexie’s opened window.

As I climb inside, I lose my footing, almost faceplanting into the cold, hardwood floor. I grab Lexie’s footboard for balance, the swirl in my stomach feeling worse and more demanding.

I managed to stand up, but the dizziness and nausea hit me immediately.

Oh shit.

I run to Lexie’s bathroom–which is right next door–and push the door open, immediately lifting the toilet cover and vomiting.

The stinging in my throat rekindles as I regurgitate the two cans of beer I had that night–the world feels like it’s moving so fast and I’m the only one moving so slow. My head spins too fast and too hard for me to comprehend, that the last thing I remember is my body falling sideways onto the cold tile.

───

The next thing that occurs is the light from my window peeking into my eyelids.

I squint and try to become aware of my surroundings, shortly realizing I ended up back in my room. How did I get here? Because I certainly remember passing out on the bathroom floor. Ask later. Overthinking will just make your head even worse.

I try to move, but any slight inch feels like the aftershocks of an eel wrapping itself around me.

“Wha…” I use the best of my strength to sit up, my whole body sore and my head pounding so hard my brain could explode out of my head. I close my eyes and try to calm down and deal with the pain for a few minutes before I see anyone, even my mom, but I’m shortly interrupted by the analog clock beside me coming to life with its loud reminder that I need to get up.

“Oh my god.” I groan loudly and slam my hand on the snooze button (which was a bad idea) and turn the clock to look at the time.

Except, there’s a glass of water and two pills on a napkin next to it.

I stop mid-way turning the clock, taking my hand off and picking up the pills instead. Considering the other days I’ve had raging headaches and bad first day periods I assume they’re ibuprofen pills, so I take both into my mouth and wash it down with some water.

Once I get it down, I shift so my legs are dangling off the bed, but even that sensation is mixed with both jelly-like and aching.

“Okay, three…two…one–” I count myself down and slide off, trying to plant my feet right, but I immediately have to hold onto something to grapple my balance. I sigh in defeat as I realize I have to fake my way for my mom to believe that I’m not hungover.

I struggle to descend down the stairs, having to stop every five seconds to take a breather and plan out the balance for the next step down.

Once I’m on the first floor, I try to enter the kitchen in a way where I don’t give off alarming signs that I’m hungover, but lo and behold–Lexie and Christina are eating breakfast.

Great! Fucking great.

Lexie pauses mid bite and glares at me. I assume she can’t bear looking at me this morning because she drops her spoon–cereal milk spilling everywhere–and leaves the room with a lousy excuse.

“I can’t deal with you right now.”

I

can’t

deal

with

you

right

now.

Normally, it would hurt if it came from my own mother, but it hurt twice as hard from a sister you looked up to.

I stare ahead as she leaves, Christina watching her walk out.

There’s an after silence in the air and none of us is willing to break it.

What am I even doing here?

I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, but all of a sudden I’m running back up the stairs and into my room, crashing onto my bed to let all my tears out. The pain from the hangover died down from the double ibuprofens, but my pounding headache comes back as I let my anger out.

I suffocate myself into my pillow to let my cries mute in a way, curving the ends of the cushion to cover my ears.

I shouldn’t have snuck out. Matter of fact, I should have just gone to sleep.

I should have ignored it all. I should have kept turning a blind eye.

I should have–

All my thinking is interrupted by two knocks on my door followed with the creak of the hinge.

“Go away.”

“I’m not Lexie.”

I hiccup and shift my head on my pillow, my snot and tears coating the side of my face.

Christina’s standing in my doorway, one hand on the doorframe.

“Do you…have a minute?” she asks calmly.

“Are you gonna scold me about Lexie?” I sniff and hiccup, struggling to get my words out, and she shakes her head no.

She closes the door and walks closer to me, pointing at the edge of my bed.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

My bed shifts under her weight as she sits on the edge, but I don’t move. I’m still laying on my side like a distressed mermaid trying to flirt with sailors.

“I talked to Lexie. She’s pretty upset like you, but angrier.”

“I can fucking tell. She hates me now, doesn’t she?” My voice cracks when I ask her that question; I can feel my throat itching with emotion again. I hide my face in the pillow to hide my embarrassment once more, but I have a strong feeling she’s still looking at me.

“No,” she sighs. “She was worried, she wanted to keep you safe.”

Everything goes quiet.

I shift to look at her, but she isn’t looking at me. She looks ahead at my old calendar–the one I never bothered to take down stuck from August of last year. The cover art above the month is decorated with a cat, the art being similar to Precious Moments pieces.

“You know, she’s still glad you sleep with stuffed animals.” She faces me now, and this time her mouth moves—a soft look in her eyes with a soft smile, everything she tells me about Lexie makes my heart strings tug hard.

“Shut up. No I don’t,” I shake my head, but all she does is exhale, a quiet laugh that comes out of her that I’ve never seen before.

“You know you’re holding one right now, right?”

I look down at my arms, and there it is—a bunny stuffed animal on my chest.

She takes a deep breath, her upper body rising as she prepares to expel her next sentence of the Lexie lecture, “What I’m trying to say is…” she shifts one leg onto the bed, knee bent and on the side so she’s closer to me, “she’s really glad you’re not like her.”

A wave of guilt rushes through my body. Is this what she really thinks of me?

“When she got into drinking, she couldn’t stop. When she went further down the spiral, she also couldn’t stop. There have been times where Lexie’s come to me drunk,” her voice breaks and she pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “And she’s told me she never wants you to be like her. Ever.”

Holy shit. 

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Christina continues again,

“She didn’t want to tell you face to face, but when she saw you last night…when she saw us, she felt a piece of her die,” she continues. “That older sister instinct she had? She said she ‘failed being a protector’ that night.”

I look up at Christina, my eyes welling with tears more than ever, and she’s giving me a soft smile. Before I can realize, there are tears already running down—a final escape in which Christina notices before I can look away.

Christina doesn’t say it, but she reaches over to give me a hug; she’s fully in front of me now, legs crossed and reaches over. 

I immediately fall into her arms, my tear-stained cheek resting on her shoulder.

“She didn’t want her Donna to know,” I chuckle, but it sounds like a cough, and I immediately choke into a sob. It’s super embarrassing because Christina doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls me close to take the hug in deeper.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks—and I think Lexie is getting to her now. Maybe she’s feeling the older sister instinct, too.

We take another minute to bathe in the silence before letting go, an awkward divide when I take my hands off her.

“She’s right. The beer must have gotten to me because I don’t remember going to my bed or prepping an ibuprofen for a hangover. I didn’t even know I was supposed to do that…was I drugged?” I continue on this ramble and look at her, then the half-full glass of water still on my nightstand.

I stare at the contents of the dresser; half-turned clock, glass of water, the lamp. My mind immediately goes to Lexie.

Did she do this?

I look back at Christina, but she’s still looking at me, making my brain short-circuit.

“I–uh, should go say sorry.” I get up, but Christina grabs my wrist–the same hold that Mark had, but softer.

“Um, she fell asleep again. You might want to try again when she’s awake and…when both of you are fully sober.”

Fully sober.

Fully sober…

My mind races back to last night, when I saw Christina smoking a joint.

I turn to face her, but her grip stays on me.

“I saw you smoking a joint last night.” I smirk but my expression is interrupted by an after-cry hiccup.

Christina’s eyes widened, “Oh, shit.”

“Weed is illegal in North Carolina, you know that right? You could have ended up in jail and not given me this…Lexie lecture. Also, weed messes with your brain. Especially when you’re 17.”

“Well, you were drinking, so I guess we’re even.” She smirks—like, a genuine “you’re not as high and mighty as you think” smile, throwing me off in so many angles.

“Oh my god, shut up! That was my first time drinking!” I playfully punch her shoulder and laugh before I sit back down on the bed next to her, wiping my tears and snot with my sleeve.

She giggles along, and I die down before she does, but even this whole interaction makes me realize I’ve never seen this side of her before.

I guess Christina Koch isn’t that intimidating after all.

“Over here!” A voice calls. It’s young and sweet and she waves one hand over, the other occupied with a shallow hole in the sand. She’s with a girl, but she just looks—studying something. Maybe me, maybe the pedestrians.

I watch my feet as I walk, lifting the bucket above and out of view. I tread lightly, careful that I wouldn’t spill any salt water on me.

“Hurry! Before we can get back into the water!” She calls again.

And she’s right. We finished our sandwiches not too long ago–ten minutes–and we were jailed for ten more until we can go back out to play in the clear water North Carolina had to offer.

So I pick up the pace, speed-walking toward the spot of sand we camped out, the rest of my group coming into view.

And that was, until, I was struck by another civilian who was running backward trying to catch a football.

The bucket I was holding flew out of my hand, landing somewhere that felt far but was actually near–probably on someone's head. I hear the splash of the water landing making a thump, immediately mixing with the grain on the beach.

As for me and said pedestrian, I fall face-first into the compact sand. I black out for a few minutes, experiencing what I thought was heaven until I hear the voices of my sister and her friend yelling at me to get up.

I feel my body turn—not on instinct, but a forceful push onto my back, where the sun starts to come through my eyelids bright and demanding.

I groan as I’m shifted onto someone's lap, maybe my sisters, and I feel something grainy between my teeth. I spit before I look, which earns a disgusted noise from whoever I accidentally aimed at.

“What the hell was that for, sis?!” My sister exclaims in horror. I open my eyes to her hand aiming for my cheek, which is quickly stopped by another’s hand.

“Lexie! It’s okay,” She bites her lip to prevent a chuckle and turns to me, dropping her grip from Lexie’s hand and sticking up her index finger.

“Follow my finger, okay?” She traces, left, right, left, right. She keeps the act up for about five seconds before dropping it, moving that hand to my shoulder.

“Do you know where you are?” She asks, and I answer, “Our home beach.”

“What’s your name?” I recite my full name, first to last.

“And what’s mine?”

“Christina…Christina Koch. You are…Lexie’s best friend.” I softly say, immediately feeling the stray traces of the leftover sand in my mouth. I spit once more, which is of course followed up with another disgusted noise by Lexie.

Christina’s mouth twitches, and I swear that she’s trying to suppress a smile, “Good, that’s good.” She looks up and at our moms, waving her hand, “She’s fine! A little sand was eaten, but it’s totally cool!”

Lexie offers a hand and helps me up as Christina walks over to retrieve the basket that was emptied and abandoned for the time being.

“I’m sorry, Lexie…” I apologize sheepishly, guilt twisting in my stomach to make up for the failed attempt of impressing my older sister and her best friend. I move loose strands out of my face and feel for my now french braid, the pattern I once recognized becoming a distant memory.

“Y’know, aside from spitting sand in my face, your apology is accepted…” She looks down at me, wrapping one arm around my shoulder. “But you owe me french braids for the rest of this summer.”

“What?!” I exclaim and look at her with a pout. All Lexie does is shrug and say “Well, you spit sand in my face. I believe compensation french braids are the best apology. Aside from sorry, of course.”

“I believe compensation braiding lessons are a good apology, too,” Christina runs up and stands next to us, her curls swaying in her face. “I made sure you weren’t concussed from…the sand.”

I groan in protest, “I’m not a french braiding connoisseur! But fine…” I look down and chuckle, a contagious grin that travels down to Christina and Lexie, and we walk back to our beach towels to take a quick breather.

───

3 weeks later . . .

All the lights have been cut out. Within the void, I’m sitting at one end of the table, my family and friends sitting around me. We all wait patiently in this empty sea waiting for the sliver of light to float through the room.

They start to sing happy birthday, my mom coming into view. She’s holding a cake, a 2 tier circular desert that's confetti flavored with whipped cream frosting; white with pink ribbons, rainbow star sprinkles and candles that spell “16” on it. By the time my cake is placed down on the doily before me, the celebrators who attended my party are finished singing.

“Make a wish,” my mother whispers. She kisses my cheek and watches me close my eyes and make my wish.

I think hard. I think for five seconds, but those five seconds felt like years. It felt as if I was going through a file cabinet of everything I’ve ever wanted in my life, from peace on earth to a literal pony named Sparkle Glitter.

“I wish I could drink,” I jokingly murmur while my eyes are still closed, and I try to hold down my laughter.

My mom playfully punches my shoulder and tells me to “think about it again.”

Those around me laugh, and so do I, so I take a deep breath and make my final choice before blowing out the candles.

The room erupts with celebratory exclaims, a few “yays” and my mom yelling at everyone to back up because she has a knife in hand.

“Who wants cake? And somebody turn on these lights!” My mom says once more.

I smile brightly as the chandelier above fills the room with warmth, my rainbow braces shining through.

“Someone’s a ray of sunshine on her 16th,” Lexie says.

“Yeah, I am—what about it, Lexie?” My voice becomes sharper once I say her name, which earns a dramatic jaw drop from my sister.

“You’re just a ray of sunshine because Mom finally let you get whipped frosting.”

“It’s good!”

“It tastes like nothing.”

“You got fucking fondant for yours!”

“Language!” My mom yells. She points at both of us, index finger on the handle of the knife, “One more F-bomb and nobody's getting cake.”

I groan and slump in my chair, arms crossed as I watch Lexie roll her eyes and walk away. My mom finishes plating enough slices to hold down most partygoers for now and slides a plate over to me. I immediately devour the confetti goodness, but the starry sprinkles scattered all over ended up tangled in my brackets.

“Whipped frosting is light, but also tastes like air,” Christina stands next to me, plate and fork in hand. “However, fondant is just way too sweet.” Then, she takes a bite. “You guys are on opposite ends of the cake trend.” She says, still working on her bite of cake.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a line? Trends are like…bars.”

“Well, duality of man.” Christina shrugs and keeps eating her cake, and I try not to look at her or smile, because that’s what one does when they try to impress their sister's best friend when said sister isn’t present. Maybe.

We sit there for a while, taking bites of our slices while letting the bass of the music consume us. I pick at my last bite with a fork, stabbing the frosting every now and then.

“Shall we open presents?” My mom claps her hands together as she enters the room again; she points at the wide array of gifts, varying from boxes and bows to bags stapled together at the opening.

But before I can get up and pick one of my own, my mom pulls out a tiny box adorned with a pink ribbon and hands it to me.

It’s the size of my palm. I wonder what it could be–a necklace? Earrings? An acceptance letter to driving school of some sort?

I stare at the tiny box in curiosity, my mind still coming up with possibilities of what may be inside. 

“Honey? You look lost, are you gonna open it?” My mother tilts her head and furrows her brows in confusion.

Her voice snaps me out of my trance, back to reality. I look around to see if anyone else saw, especially Christina, but she’s long gone. 

She probably went to go find Lexie.

“Right, sorry,” I hum and pull the ribbon, taking the lid of the box off to find a key. However, this wasn’t any normal key.

“Is this–”

“The key to the antique,” my mom finishes before I can. I look up at her and she’s already smiling–practically gleaming that she gave me a key to the old antique that we owned.

The store that started with my great-great grandma as an old cafe but quickly  turned into a museum of family heirlooms for sale, the ownership had been passed down the family tree. It was an old classic that everyone's first job in that family was to run it. 

At that moment I was most grateful to be in this bloodline. I remember hanging out with my grandma on Saturdays, keeping myself busy with Lexie in our grandma and her mothers doll collection, and playing tea parties until we had been given a task. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I practically jump at my mom like a wild coyote for a hug, which is kind of embarrassing since Lexie and Christina come back into the room.

“Hey, I guess I’m not the only one on shift now.” Lexie smiles and exhales with relief, placing a medium sized box in front of me. Christina's beside her, just looking.

I always found it kind of eerie how Christina always lingers with a certain…nonchalance? Quietness? I couldn’t find the word, but I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s two years older than me and my friends–aside from Lexie, of course.

I sniff the air and my nose gets hit with smoke, were they smoking again?

“Were you guys at a bonfire? Smells like smoke,” I sniff one more time and look at my mom who’s already giving the death stare to Lexie.

Oh, shit.

“Yeah, you remember Jamie from two doors down? They’re hosting a bonfire with like…smores n’ shit.”

“Language.”

“Sorry. Can you open your present now?” Lexie crosses her arms and says her sentence with a strange quickness, but I just shrug it off and take the lid off.

There’s confetti tissue covering the top, and when I peel it off, I find a pair of pink rollerskates adorned in white lacing. Completely new and not handed down, I was in shock that Lexie could even afford something like this.

Must have been her selling cigarettes or something.

“Eeek! Oh my god, oh my god, thank you!” I gasp and take the left shoe out of the box, immediately adoring it in all of its beauty. It’s a bit bare on the sides, but a little paint would do the job.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Use them until they fall apart, okay? I spent good money on those.” I can see that Lexie’s not permitting herself to smile, and it looks like a man holding down a fort of tarp in windy weather. I can tell she loves me secretly through all this hatred and coolness she has when in front of her friends.

Especially Christina.

Christina’s mouth twitched, one corner almost turning into a smirk, I swear that she might finally like me. Maybe I’m impressing her friends after all.

“Now, when you get off the bus, you can skate your way to the antique and head straight to work. You too, Lexie.”

“Yeah, yeah I know…” Lexie rolls her eyes and walks into the kitchen, Christina following with.

“Work? Am I finally getting the offer?” My face gleams brightly, but my mom doesn’t reciprocate. Just a small smile as she looks me up and down.

“Yes, but let’s maybe hold off the handling and haggling. Maybe just…sweeping? And dusting.”

“What? That’s so boring, I can’t decorate the mannequins upfront?”

“That’s my job! You know that!” Lexie yells from the kitchen.

I sigh dramatically in protest, my mom chuckling and putting her hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll get it soon, sweetie. Just you wait.”

“Not until I fucking die, Mom!” Lexie yells once more.

It was unapologetically amateur, a messy blur of bedroom backdrops and hit-or-miss focus, yet your subscriber count climbed continuously. There was something about your raw, unpolished energy that kept them coming back, turning your side hustle into a  lucrative venture that was quickly outgrowing the four walls of your bedroom.

Lately, the requests have become more specific, pushing you to experiment with more than just a standard mirror selfie with a red lingerie set on. You were currently scrolling through the comments on your latest upload, a slow, tactile exploration of your body in a sheer lace set, hoping to see the usual fire emojis and praise. 

While the love was there, the technical critiques were starting to sting. A comment from @user66554451412 read, “The lighting is killing me, babe. You’re too washed out! Get a ring light for those shadows” Right below it, @pervy108 added: “I’d pay double for a POV that actually moves. Still shots are getting old. I want to see the details up close” You sighed, looking at the stack of books on your desk that you used as a tripod. They wanted cinematic intimacy, and you were officially out of hands to give it to them.

You leaned back against the chair, the cheap plastic creaking under your weight as you stared at the playback of your latest video. On the small screen, the shadows were all wrong, too harsh, grainy, and flickering every time you moved too fast for the auto-focus to keep up. It felt amateur. You were meant to be selling a fantasy, but the technical glitches kept pulling the audience back into reality. 

The ring light was the easy fix, a quick browse and click on a store website and it would be at your door by tomorrow afternoon. But the motion? That was the hurdle. You couldn’t exactly ask your college roommate to hold a stabilizer while you did a striptease, and the thought of explaining your side hustle to any of your friends made your stomach do a nervous flip. This had to stay hidden. It had to be a professional, someone who didn’t know you from a hole in the ground, but knew exactly how to handle a 4k lens and act professional when filming such scenes. 

You raked your brain for a website to search up services and finally landed on Craigslist. At first, you hesitated, clicking through the interface with a skeptical frown. Was it even possible to look for such a gig? It felt like a recipe for getting your inbox flooded with creeps, or worse, getting banned from the platform entirely.

To clear your head, you pulled up Reddit, typing “videographer for adult content craigslist” into the search bar. You ended up down a rabbit hole of threads from other independent creators. The verdict was unanimous: you couldn't just come out and say it. The site’s filters were notorious for scrubbing anything overtly explicit. Instead, creators masked their naughty and unhinged ads in creative ways, playing with the wording and the tags they used like a secret code. They suggested using phrases like “sensual aesthetics” “boudoir shoot” or “private content production.”

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence that you could actually pull this off, you made a burner account in order to keep your real life completely separate and used your OnlyFans screen name. With that, you drafted up an ad and chose to skip the blunt descriptions and went with a clever hook. ‘Looking for a cinematic videographer/producer for high-end creative content’. That would get them.

With that, you started typing up the body of the ad, ‘Looking for a skilled videographer to help shoot high-quality, spicy aesthetic videos for an independent platform. Moving shots and dynamic angles only.’ Furthermore, you felt the need to add some requirements to keep the creeps away. 

You chose to go for the basics: ‘Must own professional gear’, ‘Absolute professionalism and discretion are non-negotiable’, ‘Must be willing to sign a basic NDA’, and of course ‘A face-to-face meeting in a public space is required before any filming takes place to discuss vision and comfort levels’. 

You added a few tags to add legitimacy to the ad such as ‘creative’, ‘crew’ and ‘photo/video’ before pressing ‘post’. 

You left the ad up for a few days, letting it gain traction and views from various people. After filtering through creeps who just wanted a free show, randos who had clearly misunderstood the ad for a normal photoshoot and creeps who wanted to meet at their place, you came across a response from @tinaprod286. It was pretty professional, after a short exchange about the kind of cameras she used and thought would look best for the kind of videos I needed filmed, came the suggestion of a meet in a coffee shop nearby. I had also given her access to my spicy page for her to be able to determine what needed to be changed prior to you both meeting. 

So here we were on the day of the meetup, you got there early to scope out the place and choose a seat in the corner so as to not have eavesdroppers on your not so public friendly conversation. You expected a film student or some kind of creative arts person. You certainly didn't expect the woman who actually walked in. 

She was an older woman, clearly mature, confident, with a sharp gaze that missed absolutely nothing. She wore a simple jacket and tucked securely under her arm was a sleek black portfolio folder. She scanned the cafe once, her eyes locking onto you and she walked straight over to your booth, the heels of her heeled-boots clicking softly against the tiled floor.

She stopped right at the edge of the table, looking down at you with a neutral expression. “Are you Violet Sin? I’m Christina” she said. 

I nodded, not expecting my porn name to be said out loud in such a public place and gestured for her to take a seat. Before I could even start the conversation, she spoke, “So let’s talk about your lighting” she said as she put her portfolio on the table between us. 

“Prior to today’s meeting, I went through your profile. Your framing is static but that can be changed and your white balance is off. I can definitely fix those by filming moving shots for you and having a softbox to balance the light in your shots.” She says 

You were deeply impressed by how much research she had done by watching some videos prior to today. Your stomach did a nervous flip as you wondered which videos she had watched to come to that conclusion. Was it the clips from the various live streams you had done or the higher tier exclusive videos? 

You couldn’t stop the dangerous train of thoughts rushing through your mind. Rightfully so, an attractive woman was about to become your videographer and witness you in your most intimate moments. Did she feel anything while watching those videos? Even if it was to give you feedback. Did her pulse spike when she watched you get closer to the edge using your fingers and toys? Or worse, did she even like women like that?

Gosh get your head out of the gutter, you chided yourself, gripping your warm coffee cup tighter to anchor your hands.This was a professional meeting and nothing else. 

Christina went on, diving into the nitty gritty details of all the equipment she was planning to use to improve the quality of your shoots. She tossed around technical jargon like dynamic range, focal lengths and depth of field. Not like you could understand a single bit of it but you still tried to follow along with her explanations while utterly mesmerized by her. 

You caught yourself switching your gaze over to the slope of her neck, down to her lips to see how they moved while she spoke. You noticed a tiny detail, whenever she got passionate about something, one side of her mouth would curl higher than the other. It all made her terribly hot. 

You found yourself in a daze as her words and any background noise coming from the other customers in the café were drowned out. Too busy focusing on her tiny features that made her incredibly hot. 

Suddenly, the flow of the explanation stopped. A silence hung between them pulling you out of your trance. You blinked, coming out of your trance to realise that Christina had stopped speaking. Her eyes on you, waiting for a response from a question that you haven’t even heard. How embarrassing.

You felt the blood flow to your face as you got flustered. “Say what, sorry?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly before you cleared it, trying to play it off by taking a sip of your coffee. Praying she would simply repeat the question and not comment about it. 

“I was asking about the natural light in your studio space” Christina said, tapping her fingers against the coffee shop table. “What direction do your bedroom windows face, and what time of day do you usually do your live broadcasts? I need to calculate the ambient light spill before I select which lenses we’re using for the first test shoot.”

You focused again on the question you had missed and nodded quickly as you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

“Right, um well there’s one large window facing west” You started “and because I usually film in the late afternoon and early evening, it lets in a lot of that direct sunset light. I love using the golden hour light”. 

Christina’s eyes narrowed as she listened to your description, visualizing your room layout in her head. “West-facing afternoon light” she mutters as she thinks about it. 

She then went on: “Golden hour sure is beautiful on skin tones but it’s unpredictable and changes so fast.” she starts, “the shadows tend to stretch behind an object and your camera’s auto-exposure will go haywire trying to compensate for the rapidly changing light”. 

“Hence why your white balance was flickering in your last few uploads” Christina explains. That’s when it all made sense, your want to film during the best light of the day was inadvertently causing your light to be off-balance in your videos. 

At this reveal, you sat back in your seat “well, is this something you can fix?” you asked point blank. If she was sitting there going on about all the issues about your shots, she might as well be able to fix them. 

Christina didn’t flinch at your bluntness. Instead, a small confident smirk appeared on the corner of her mouth. She opened up her portfolio and flipped through the various clean and organised shoots. 

“I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t think I could improve your shots” she replied full of confidence, “Here’s how we’re going to turn your bedroom into a high-end porn set”. 

You both spent the next hour mapping out all the ways Christina could help take your videos from amateur to professional quality. She also gave you suggestions on where you should place yourself on the bed relative to the window to get the best sunset light but also the best lighting she would add. By the time your mug got cold, you felt a buzzing rush of excitement on what was going to happen within the next few days. 

“So before we wrap up and make sure you’re 100% sure that you’re up for this” you began, tone more serious now as you reached into your bag and pulled out a neatly stapled stack of papers that you had spent the night before curating from a template you had found online. You slide it across the café table over to her “I have an NDA for you to sign”. 

Christina looked down at the document on top written: ‘Non-Disclosure and Confidentiality Agreement’. She didn't look shocked or offended. Actually, her gaze softened with a flash of professional approval. She knew the stakes of this industry. She understood that this was for your safety and hers at the end of the day. 

“I’ll give you time to read through it at home” you said with a small smile. “You can just scan it and send it to me through text once you’ve signed it” 

“Smart” Christina murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of the page and quickly flipped through all the pages before she slid it smoothly into her portfolio folder. She looked up, her gaze holding yours,“As long as the clauses are fair to both of our legal protections, we have a deal.”

She stood up then, adjusting her jacket. You looked up to her as she stood to her full height, taking her in one last time up close. 

“We can discuss my day rates and production fees through text” Christina says while showing off a grin. “Lovely to meet you, Violet Sin”. And with that she turns on her heel and walks out of the café. 

Your gaze naturally drifted down to watch her hips move as she walked through the crowded café with her portfolio under her arm once again. She pushed open the door and disappeared out into the afternoon sun. The table you had just shared with her suddenly felt empty, the air still faintly carrying the scent of her perfume. 

True to her word, Christina didn’t make you wait long. By the time you got back to your apartment, your phone chimed with a notification. It was a cleanly scanned, high-resolution PDF version of the signed NDA. Her signature at the bottom was sharp and precise.

With the legal safety net securely in place, you went through with your promise, opening up a text thread to iron out the finances. You were honest with her; you discussed a fair, competitive flat rate for the first few test shoots to see how your chemistry translated to the screen. But you also made sure to leave the door wide open for the future, agreeing to renegotiate for a significantly higher percentage or a premium retainer if her production successfully blew up your numbers and became a long-term partnership.

Christina’s final text back was short, professional, and sent a shiver straight down your spine: “Works for me, see you friday afternoon” 

You spent the next few days practically vibrating with a mix of nervous anticipation and intense focus. Your brain automatically was counting down the days until the planned shoot day, your stomach did an anxious flip whenever you thought about it. Praying that when Friday came, your professional instincts would take over.  

Today was the first shoot you would do with Christina. To ease into the news dynamic, you had picked one of the simpler but highly requested scenes from your custom order list, a classic intimate solo scene using a dildo while being styled in a delicate lacy lingerie pastel pink set.

Since your filming studio was just the spare bedroom in your apartment, you had spent the entire morning in a frantic cleaning frenzy. You made sure your apartment was spotless before Christina arrived. No random shirt that needed to be washed on the floor or dusty bookshelf, she would be in your personal space afterall! 

You even went out of your way to stock the pantry with juices and light snacks to have after shooting if Christina wanted. It was a courteous gesture since I was hosting her in my apartment, but secretly, you just wanted an excuse to keep her around longer once the camera stopped rolling. 

You told her to be there by 5pm sharp to catch the perfect golden hour light for the scene. Right on the hour, a firm knock echoed through the quiet apartment. Your heart did a sudden thud against your ribs. You paused in the hallway mirror, smoothing down your silk robe that you had on to cover the lingerie set below. You checked your hair and makeup before stepping up to the door. 

You peaked through the peephole and caught sight of her. She was leaning casually against the doorframe, looking entirely too relaxed for what you both were about to film. You chuckled to yourself as you noticed her shifting her weight as she waited for the door to finally open. 

You unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. “Don’t get comfy there” you teased and took in her appearance. 

Christina straightened immediately, her eyes locking onto yours before she gave you a small smile. You noticed a bunch of gear boxes and bags full of cameras, audio material and even a softbox stand, all around her on the floor that looked heavy. 

“Do you need some help with all of that?” you asked since it truly looked impossible for one person to transport that much heavy equipment in a single trip. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I've hauled gear through much worse terrain than an apartment hallway,” Christina said with a low, amused chuckle.

For spring, it was an unusually hot afternoon and she had dressed for the labor of the shoot. She wore a simple grey tank top with some kind of band insignia with some dark jeans. To top the look, she had a dark cap on her head to shield her from the sun. As she gripped the heavy straps of the gear bags and lifted them over the threshold, the movement made her arm muscles all flex. 

You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the defined line of her muscles on her bicep as she walked into the apartment, glistening slightly with a faint sheen of sweat from the heat. 

You felt your throat go completely dry. You couldn’t help but stare, your eyes tracking the effortless strength in her arms as she walked right past you heading deeper in the apartment. As she brushed by, you caught a whiff of her scent. A mix of wood musk, a hint of sandalwood but also clean laundry followed her as she walked by. 

She set the heaviest cases and bags down on the hardwood floor with a thud entirely unaware of the absolute bisexual panic she had just caused by walking into your apartment looking like the way she did. You watched as she took off her hat to wipe the seat from her brow with the back of her forearm before moving to put the cap on backwards. 

Gosh, this backwards cap look made it even more impossible to stay professional. She was here to help me shoot, nothing else. 

Christina was the one to break the silence, “Alright,” she said as she turned to face you. That’s when she noticed what you were wearing, her gaze dropping for a split second to the silk robe tied tightly around your waist before rising back to meet your eyes. “Show me your filming space. Let’s see this west-facing window.”

“Right” you said before clearing your throat to break the tension in the hallway. “Follow me” you said and turned to lead the way down the corridor. You pushed open the door to your dedicated filming area.

The room had been curated for your online persona. It was designed to look cozy and inviting, inciting people to stay on your page and pay to watch more content. The room was washed in pastel accents with a pinkish-mauve accent wall that served as backdrop. You had DIY pierced holes in the wall for a shelf that held various props and accessories that you rotated for your shoots. Subtly hints for your audience to spot during streams to keep them guessing what you might use next. 

You stepped back and let Christina take your room in fully, you saw the gears turning in her head while she tried to figure out where to put her equipment for the best shots. 

You stayed in a corner of the room as you watched her work over the next twenty minutes. She calibrated her equipment, unfolded a heavy stand for the large softbox light, positioning the light perfectly to give you the best lighting during the shoot.

Every movement she made was fluid and practiced from years as a photographer and videographer.  Once again, you couldn’t help but stare as she adjusted the settings on her camera, her brow furrowing in deep concentration. She attached the lens, clicking it into place with a satisfying snap. As she adjusted her handheld stabilizer, the fabric of her tank top strained slightly against her shoulders and biceps, oblivious to how fast your pulse was racing just watching her. 

She was clearly focused and in her element as she held up the camera to check the lighting in the room. She flicked on the softbox she had in the corner of the room, the harsh shadows of the room instantly dissolved and replaced by a buttery warmth that made your skin glow even more under the light. 

Christina adjusted the stabilizer as well as her viewfinder then looked up, her gaze locking onto yours. “Whenever you’re ready”, she said, her voice dropping into that low cadence. 

You swallowed hard, suddenly realising that this would be happening. You would be fucking yourself with a dildo, infront of a stranger, and that stranger happened to be hot. Nonetheless, you gathered your essentials for the shoot, a 6 inch dildo and a bottle of lube, placing them on the mattress. You let out a let out a shaky breath as you untied the satin knot at your waist and let the robe slide off your shoulders, pooling at your feet on the floor; 

The sudden rush of cool air against your skin made you shiver. You turned to be faced by Christina’s intense but still professional gaze. She looked at you like an artist looking at a masterpiece, focusing on the lighting and the shadows instead of your silhouette in the tiny outfit.

Being exposed in front of your phone on a tripod was one thing, standing here in a sheer pink lace lingerie set under the very focused attention of a real person was an entirely different thing. A wave of shyness and embarrassment washed over you, you tried not to make a fool of yourself by covering your chest with your arms but they instinctively did so even if you tried to school that reflex. 

You cleared your throat before letting out a nervous laugh, “Can you not look so serious for a second?” you asked, your voice small as you tried to break the heavy tension in the air. 

“Whatever makes you more comfortable for the shoot” Christina said. Her expression softened for a fraction of a second, a more reassuring look breaking through her professional façade. It was a small gesture but it gave you the confidence to go through with the shoot. With that, you moved to lay on the bed. 

You settled on the bed, leaning against the pillows to explain the scene to her. You told her exactly what you had in mind, angles, positions and any close-up shots opportunities for her. You got into the details of the scene to capture the dynamic your subscribers had been begging for.   

“I’ll have my legs opened so it’ll be easy for you to move in close” you explained as Christina nodded along, surprisingly professional about this. 

Christina seemed entirely unfazed by the details, “Perfect” she started “I’ll start with a wide shot from the foot of the bed to establish the setting, then I’ll move closer to focus on you and what you’re doing, just focus on the lens, ignore me” she guided. 

Ignoring her would be easier said than done. But needless to say, the shoot started, the camera in Christina’s hands blinking red steadily to show that it was recording everything. Once you focused on the camera, Violet Sin came out to play as you did your absolute best to forget that incredibly attractive woman standing at arm’s length from you. 

You worked on slowly building the anticipation as you unclapsed the lace bra and letting the fabric drop away. You brought in your elbows to emphasize the shapes of your boobs by pushing them together for that classic pornstar pose. Every movement was deliberate, your fingers tracing down your neck to your collarbone and down to your nipples while keeping eye contact with the lens. 

You gently pinched the buds between your thumb and index fingers, making them harden under your touch. By pinching harder, you made yourself whimper as you looked directly in the camera. 

Next came the lace panties, you eased them down past your hips to gather at your plumper thighs before pulling them down fully. You kneeled on the bed fully naked as you crawled to the center of the bed. Once you found your spot, you moved your legs apart slowly, keeping them open. While you did this, Christina kept the camera angle low to have your glistening pussy the center of the shot. This new arrangement would make your subscribers very happy with all the new angles. 

You couldn’t help but steal a glance over at her for her reaction, she bit her lip in concentration as she focused on the viewfinder of her camera. Did she enjoy this even if she was just the videographer in this situation? Was this content she would watch? Gosh you were screwed. 

The heat in the room felt palpable now. You brought your fingers to your lips, wetting them before moving them between your thighs to get the show going. You spread your pussy lips before rubbing your bud softly. You looked up as you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera humming and saw Christina zooming in. 

You looked up, past the lens of the camera to her focused face focusing on the viewfinder. Christina was completely locked in, her brows furrowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth in a look of pure concentration. The contrast between your completely exposed state and her super focused expression was too much to ignore. A soft breathless chuckle slipped past your lips, breaking the silence and tension that had settled in the room. 

The sound immediately made her look up from the viewfinder, her eyes blinking a few times in slight confusion as her movements stilled. 

“You’re cute when you’re focused” you said boldly, giving her a teasing smile before leaning back against the pillows to adjust your position. 

Christina stayed frozen for a split second, a flash of genuine shock crossing her usually unshakable features. A hint of color flushed along her cheekbones as she was completely thrown off by your sudden compliment.  

You chuckled at her reaction before shifting back to your performance persona. “Chill, just keep recording” you mumbles, your tone shifting back to the sultry cadence you adopted for your online persona. 

You focused back on the lens, letting out a soft moan as you curled your fingers in you in rhythm. True to her professional self, Christina composed herself quickly, locking back into the scene as she focused the shot on your glistening pussy. 

She brought her camera closer physically but also by zooming in as she captured the flush spreading across your chest and abdomen. Christina focused on the way your chest was moving up and down as you breathed in shorter and sharper breaths between moans. 

“I’m gonna cum if I don’t stop” you mumbled as you pulled your fingers out of your cunt, leaving yourself feeling empty. From Christina’s spot, she focused on your tight hole clenching around nothing. 

“That’s perfect” Christina mumbled and made sure to focus the camera on that. With her encouragement, you smirked before leaning over to grab the flesh-colored dildo from the nightstand, bringing it up to your mouth. You maintained eye contact with the camera as you wrapped your lips around the textured silicone to wet it thoroughly to prepare for the main sequence of the video. 

Christina remained focused as she kept her gaze on the small screen of her camera this time. You watched as a small bead of sweat gathered on her brow. You silently hoped that this was getting to her as it was getting to you. 

Once the dildo was wet enough, you placed the tip by your entrance. A low moan slipped past your lips the second you began to push the tip inside, your walls adjusting to the size of the toy.  

You gasped, pushing the girthy dildo further in your tight hole. “Fuckkk” you moaned as you took the feeling of fullness washed over you. Once you had adjusted to the size, you pulled it halfway out before pushing it back in, the dildo thrusting slowly at first. 

As the scene progressed and your thrusts got faster, your focus began to split between the camera lens and Christina herself. You tracked the smooth curve of her shoulders peaking out from her tank top and down to her biceps that flexed as she held onto the camera. Your horniness making you want her instead of some toy, you began imagining her pushing that toy in and out of your wet pussy instead of your own hand. 

As you realised that you weren’t performing for the camera anymore but for her, you mentally chided yourself. Using that moment to switch hands since the one you were using got tired. You sat up against the pillows and picked up the pace. Your hand plunged the dildo in a steady rhythm, your pussy making wet sounds as the toy moved in and out. 

You groaned in pleasure, throwing your head back against the pillows. The movement arched your body perfectly, bathing your throat, chest and abdomen in the warm lights of the softbox, giving Christina the best angle. 

Realising the cinematic scene, she took that opportunity to move the camera forward, as well as her body, to show your hand pushing the dildo in and out of you. 

She got close, too close. You could feel her breath on your bare thighs as her body hovered just inches away. Distracted by how close she got, your hand lost its grip on the dildo and accidentally swatted the camera lens, making the camera in Christina’s grip slightly falter. 

“Oh! Sorry” you stammered instantly, the sultry persona instantly evaporating as once again, a flush rushed up your neck. You looked up at her, chest heaving from the heaviness of the scene as well as feeling slightly embarrassed.  

A small but surprised chuckle broke from Christina as she quickly adjusted her grip on her camera again and stepped back since she was entirely too close too. She let you get back in your element after this little incident. 

“My bad, I pushed in a little too close” Christina said, her voice low and completely neutral, not flustered as you may have thought. However, there was an amused glint in her eyes as she took you in, dildo still halfway inside you while you held onto it to keep it from slipping out. 

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to settle your racing heart. In the back of your mind, you were already making a mental note that you would absolutely have to chop this blooper clip out of the final edit. You took a deep breath to compose yourself and locked your gaze on the camera again and dove back into the rhythm of the shoot. 

You continued to thrust the dildo in and out. Your hand drives the rhythm faster and faster as you bring yourself to the edge. Your moans got louder as your orgasm built up. 

You plunged the dildo deep as your climax hit, your walls clenching around the dildo as you moaned loudly. Your legs shaking uncontrollably as your thigh muscles clamped down around the dildo. Your body spasmed as you breathed deeply, your release leaving you completely spent. 

You collapsed back against the pillows, your chest heaving as you stared blankly at the ceiling.  

Christina took that moment to reach out to move your trembling legs apart. The dildo slipped free as she tilted the camera downward in a slow close-up. The camera captured the sheen of sweat on your thighs and the involuntary tremors of your muscles as your orgasm rolled off. This was high-end footage that would surely drive your subscribers insane. 

Christina eventually turned the camera off as you recovered from the orgasm. She moved to turn off the softbox light, letting the light outside of the window take over once again. The shoot was officially wrapped. While you laid there, utterly exhausted, you heard the soft thud of Christina putting her camera down on your desk. You listened to the quiet pad of her footsteps as she walked to your en suite bathroom. 

A moment later, she returned with a clean towel she had found. She stepped up to the edge of the mattress, leaning down closer to you. The professional mask had slipped off making space for a much more tender expression as she held out the towel to you. 

“Here” Christina says softly, her low voice helping you recover from your orgasm. “Take your time, you did great” she added.

You nodded, offering her a grateful smile as you took the towel. You took your time to let the remaining adrenaline settle, your breathing gradually slowing down back to normal. Once you felt steady enough to stand, you reached for a robe you had hanging in the closet, wrapping the soft fabric securely around your body as you tied it at the waist. 

Now composed, you led Christina back out to the open space of your living room while she carried her gear with her. 

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked, gesturing towards the kitchen where you had stored refreshments earlier. You had noticed the sheen of sweat on her skin earlier and figured that she had to be parched by now. 

“Actually, some cold water sounds nice, thank you” Christina said, packing her gear in her bags by the front door. She rolled her shoulders, stretching out her back as you walked over to the fridge. 

You poured her a tall glass of water and handed it to her, your fingers brushing against hers for a fleeting second before you pulled away. She took a long sip, your eyes followed down her throat as it moved rhythmically as she drank. You couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming magnetic pull towards her.

“The lighting setup worked perfectly” Christina said, setting the empty glass down on a nearby counter. “The playback on the monitor looked stunning, you’re incredibly photogenic”. 

Her words made you freeze and before you could even think of some smooth response to the compliment, Christina was already moving back into professional mode. She checked her watch and said “I should load my gear in my car before traffic gets bad. I’ll start editing the raw footage tonight and send a rough draft by Wednesday for you to approve”. 

You gathered yourself enough to reply. “Sounds like a plan” you replied, trying to match her professional tone. 

Christina offered one last warm smile your way as she picked up her heavy gear cases and walked out of your apartment. “Great job today, see you” she said as she walked down the hallway. 

“See you” you murmured, holding the door open for her. 

You watched her walk down the hallway until she cleared the corner, her footsteps fading away. You pushed the door closed and let out a sigh as you leaned your back to the wooden door. 

You slide down a few inches as you stared blankly into your now silent apartment. You buried your face in your hands and let out a groan muffled against your palms. 

‘Fuckkkkkkk’ you thought, a mix of thrill and embarrassment, ‘I’m so screwed’.

to be continued...