Page 36 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

She nods very quickly. “Yes, you complain about him that much.” Fuck she knows me well.

I bring a palm to my belly and sigh. “Phew, I was worried there for a second that you’ve been secretly chatting it up with my dad,” I joke, because she’s the one always joking about him and these days, naughty jokes don’t feel as sinister as they used to. “Alright,” I sigh, tossing my heart throw pillow at her. “I gotta nap before I go back.”

She slides off the bed and grabs her bag from the floor. “Get that beauty rest before you get the double D.”

I hold up my pointer and middle finger twisted with hope. “I’ll call you later.”

“Tomorrow is the only acceptable time to call me. If you call me tonight, I know your dinner with the studs will have gone horribly wrong and honestly, B, I love you, but I don’t need that kind of negativity in my evenings.” She blows me a kiss that I catch with an eye roll.

I can’t nap. The coffee isn’t even a factor. It’s everything sizzling in my veins every fleeting second as I count the minutes untiltonight.

I want to go to your house for dinner, I’m screaming internally while my face holds a calm, small smile. We’re holed up in the conference room, with one scene left to shoot. Aug suggested we come back for a drink while Alexa touches up the actors.

I’m not a big drinker, but as the end of the work day nears, I find myself getting nervous for our dinner. I’m sipping ginger ale and vodka, sitting at the head of the table, Lance and Aug around me, drinking the same. They brought me in here because even with only one scene left and a triple person date night on the horizon, apparently these men can’t shelve art for sex. One scene or not, that scene needs full care.

But I like that.

They pulled me into a conversation regarding blocking in a reverse age gap scene, and why putting the hero in the silhouette emerging from the shadows was more powerful than doing that same thing with the heroine. Lance argued that it would level the taboo feeling to show the hero coming out of darkness as well. He argued that if the older woman emerged from the shadows, we’d be subliminally programming the viewers that her needs are bad.

I hadn’t thought of it that way.

And while Augustus agreed with Lance’s assessment, he brought an unconsidered angle to the table, too. He’d said that most people view older women and younger men together as taboo, despite the fact it’s very much not. In order to get viewers to accept this normal age gap dynamic, the use of shadowing or silhouetting would work against the piece’s main goal: to normalize while also getting you off.

That’s where we’re at. And now they’re askingmyopinion.

I sip my drink. “What’s the final title of the piece?” I ask, not sure that I’ve actually heard yet, or if the vodka is already making my head a little swimmy.

Aug volleys his head. “Working title,” he clarifies, “isDespite It All.”

My eyebrows raise as I sip my drink. “Dramatic.” He sighs, squaring his shoulders with Lance’s across the table. “What do you think of the title?”

Lance finishes his drink and lets out a long sigh. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him show a single sign of fatigue, but I see it as he stares into his empty glass, dragging his fingertip along the rim. “I think I finished my drink and I want to be done with work, that’s what I think.”

I finish mine and smile at him, my belly warming at the smile he returns. “So why are we all still here? Did you guys miss a shot earlier?” I ask, recalling the scene we shot before coming in here. It seemed fine.

“It’s not for the same film,” Aug says, fishing a piece of ice from his cup, chewing it. “This is a pick-up scene where the lighting was wrong on the initial shot. It’s just a quickie, then it’s over.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding. “What film?”

He cautions a glance at Lance, whose broody eyes are locked on me. “Let’s get out there, and you’ll see for yourself.”

“Then dinner at your house,” Lance gruffs, keeping his head down as he tucks between us, opening then filtering out the door.

I look at Aug. “Is he hangry?”

Aug smirks. “I could answer that, but I think you’ll learn histellsquicker if I let you figure it out on your own.”

A few minutes later, we’re in our respective chairs on the edge of the set, the actors are taking their marks, as Lance passes me a revised call sheet, stapled to the script. There are approximately ten spoken lines in this scene, which is normal for an all-spice scene. But I notice that Dean and Max are standing hip to hip, cocooned in white bathrobes as Uma smears lotion into her torso.

“It’s a MFM scene?” I question, because I’ve seen lots of these in my two months here, so why they were so damn mysterious about it, I’m not sure.

Aug snaps, getting the attention of a set hand. “Tape the extension cord all the way to the wall. We don’t want anyone tripping, period, not just on set.” He twists, facing me with excitement is his expression. “It’s MMF, and it’s double doms.”

Double doms.My mouth goes dry at those two words, and the way they sound coming from him, raspy and rough. Desire flushes my cheeks, so I face the set. Work is work, and right now, this is work. “Neat,” I say, watching as Dean and Max disrobe, handing them to Alexa.

I can’t believe it but I’m already used to the sight of hunky men with hard ons. When I started here, I really thought I’d be the studio perv, unable to look away from self-fluffing. But around week two, it became commonplace—thank God. Because Dean and Max are hot andhung.

Hey, that’s not a bad movie name.

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