Later, I promise myself. Later, we will have the kissing just for us. Kissing without a goal or without a time limit…God, the thought makes me hard and excited and warm and melty all at once. How do people handle all of these feelings all at once? How do people stand being in love?
How could I have ever thought that I had been in love before?
This—this—is love.
And I have to protect it at all costs, starting right now.
“I’m just smiling because this is going to be a badass scene,” I finally answer Devi’s question. “Are you ready?”
She nods. And I press record.
All in all, it’s possibly one of the best scenes I’ve ever filmed, maybe even ever participated in. We start with her in those knee socks on the rug, grinding on a pillow while I murmur the dirtiest things I can think of, and after she comes against the pillow, her naked stomach visibly tightening, I unzip my jeans and walk over to her, feeding my thick erection through her lips.
Everything is light and bright, with the afternoon sun streaming in and the white furniture and rug, and everything is perfectly staged and seamless. The blowjob transitions to a sixty-nine, the sixty-nine transitions into condom-sheathed fucking, first doggy-style, and then spooning from behind—one of the best filming positions because I can show off her jiggling tits and taut stomach and pussy all at once. And then after she comes a second time and then a third, I pull out, yank off the condom, and then jack myself off onto her stomach. The scene ends with me turning her head back to me for a long, deep kiss while she draws idle circles in the mess on her stomach.
After the kiss lasts what I think would be the right amount of time for a romantic sort of fade to black, I break it off and hop up to turn off the camera. And then I grab a box of baby wipes I keep in one of those ottoman storage cubes (along with lube, condoms and other things I need on hand but also hidden discreetly in case of a surprise Mom and Dad Visit) and trot over to Devi, zipping up my jeans with one hand as I do.
Weirdly, she doesn’t look at me as she starts scrubbing at the mess I’ve made on her stomach. I’m suddenly aware of how quiet it is in here and also how dim—the September afternoon has started to bleed into evening outside, the first pinpricks of starlight piercing the thick sky above my skylight.
I turn on a lamp, and then start breaking down the tripods to put back in my office, watching Devi out of the corner of my eye the whole time. She seems pensive, methodical, as she finishes cleaning up and gets to her feet.
“Are you okay?” I ask as she returns from throwing away the used baby wipes. She’s still naked, still in those girlish knee socks with that immensely tuggable braid, and it’s so hard for me to focus on anything other than dragging her back to bed. I promised myself that I’d get boyfriend time after we made it through this scene, and now we’ve made it, and I just want to wrap myself up in her and never let go, but something doesn’t feel right. But I can fix that—I’ll talk to her, and apologize and explain everything, and then it will be better.
Then kissing until the sun comes up.
“Yeah,” she says, “everything is okay.” And I can tell that she’s not exactly lying, but that she’s not giving me the whole answer either. And just as I’m about to launch into the speech I should have given her hours ago when she showed up at my door, she asks, “So this was really the last scene we’ll shoot for Star-Crossed?”
And then her distance makes sense, because she and I haven’t talked explicitly about the future of the series, and I’m so relieved because I get to tell her all the exciting stuff that Marieke and I dreamed up. And she’ll be a central part of it, and I know she’ll love that we get to keep working together like this.
I button up my jeans and flop down on the couch, patting the space next to me. She obliges, sitting down, but she sits a couple feet away from me, her legs tucked under her and one arm wrapped around the back of the couch, as if she’s bracing herself.
“So I know you know that Marieke and Vida are thrilled with Star-Crossed and how it’s turned out, and we all think it’s going to be fucking huge when it debuts in November. They want to do a second season, and I do too. The only real question is if you’d be on board for that.”
Her face lights up—but just a little. “Thank you for asking,” she says softly, hesitantly. “I think I’d like that. I’ll have to think about it though.”
It’s not a contract signature, but almost.
I grin. “Excellent! Marieke and I are thinking we could start filming in another month or so, just as soon as we line up the other performers.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Other performers?” she asks.
I nod enthusiastically. “So just like this season set up ‘Logan and Devi’ as a couple, this next season will follow another couple. But get this—” I’m so excited I can barely sit still “—we’ll be in it too, and there will be a much more complicated dynamic. Threesomes and foursomes and maybe even the illusion of cheating—nothing too seedy, of course, since we want this to be couples-friendly—but edgy enough that there’s that illicit thrill, you know?”
Devi looks away, chewing on her bottom lip, and I notice that her hand is gripping the back of the couch. “So we’ll be having sex with other people?”
I scoot closer. “Yeah, but we’ll still have sex together too. And sometimes it will be combined scenes. I think this has the potential to be incredibly hot and something really different, you know? Like The Affair, but porn.”