“Oh.” My word was breathless.
When your guy gets here, she’d said.
My grip on the contract tightened, making the paper wrinkle, reminding me of its existence. I glanced down and zeroed in on the Petal Productions logo at the top of the page, which was modern and slightly feminine. It was much prettier than I would have expected for an adult film company.
“Why don’t you have a seat and read that over?” she said. “I’ll go grab a pen.”
The only place to sit was on the bed, and so when she disappeared through the open doorway, I took a seat on the edge of the mattress. The contract wasn’t complicated. It spelled out what I’d be paid for the scene, and that Petal Productions would distribute it digitally via their subscription platform only.
I was still working my way through the second page when she returned with a pen and a bottle of water, offering them both to me, which I took.
“Do you have questions?”
She meant about the contract, but I couldn’t help it. My curiosity was getting the best of me. “What can you tell me about the guy I’m doing this with?”
“Not much, but only because that’s Scott’s department. He’s bringing in someone new tonight as well.”
“Someone new?” My anxiety spiked. I’d been banking on my partner having experience. Wouldn’t it be better if he knew what he was doing? That way he could help guide me.
My concern must have been visible because Nina straightened. “If that makes you uncomfortable, it doesn’t have to be this new guy. I’m sure Scott will do it if you’d rather partner with him.”
I just barely stopped myself from screeching it. “You mean, your husband?”
Was something wrong with me? Because her expression made it seem like I was the one being weird. A thought hit her then, and a grin stretched across her lips. “Ah. You’re worried about fucking my husband.”
I had no idea what kind of face I was making and tried to keep it blank.
“Okay.” Her tone filled with amusement. “First—it’s acting. We don’t get jealous because this is just work for us. Second—there are a shit-ton of people who’d pay to get to fuck Scott, and keep in mind, in this arrangement, I’d be paying you.”
Did it look like I needed more convincing?
“Third,” she added, “do I think it’s hot when he fucks other people?” Her eyes glinted with lust. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around that.
People in love don’t sleep with other people.
But she was so matter-of-fact. So confident. And that was . . . kind of amazing.
Still, as much as I believed her, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to fuck this woman’s husband while she watched. I was all for new experiences, and the idea of strangers watching turned me on, but—good God.
Baby steps.
Nina threaded her fingers through her blonde hair and pushed it back over her shoulder. “This other guy? I’ve seen his headshot, and I think he’s fucking hot, but Scott’s a pro. So, it’s up to you on who to partner with. I don’t think you can make a bad choice.”
Was it really a choice, though? I cleared my throat, trying to shake free the sticky sensation caught there. “Uh, I’ll try the new guy.”
With that settled, I refocused on completing the contract. There was a large section about risk and the production company’s mandatory condom policy in audition scenes. When I finished reading and truly digesting the information, I stood and carried everything to the bedside table and began to fill in the blank places with my personal details.
It was surprising that my hand was so steady, given how static electricity surged through my system. I was buzzing with both trepidation and impatience as I scribbled my name and the date across the bottom line.
It’d been two months since I’d last had sex, and that random hookup had been so underwhelming, it was easier to pretend it had never happened. But that meant it felt like it had been decades since anyone else’s touch had lit me up.
Hopefully, that changed tonight.
I handed the contract and pen to Nina, and as she signed her part, I unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and drank down an enormous gulp. I was screwing the cap back on when we heard the office door creak open, and footsteps came into the other room.
“. . . there was a puddle of coolant under her car,” one of the voices said. The footsteps stopped abruptly, as if the person was confused. “Nina?”
“We’re in here.” She peered at me like a parent waiting for their kid to open a present on Christmas morning. My heart vaulted up into my throat as the two pairs of footsteps grew louder and the men made their way toward us.