Page 10 of Our Sadie

Silence blankets the dining area in her absence. At least until Dom starts to shoveling food into his mouth like we’re about to enter the zombie apocalypse.

I can’t help my chuckle. “Hungry?”

He casts me a wordless nod, and I absorb something odd. While the man is gobbling away, he waited until he’d sliced his chicken into squares so perfect they could’ve been measured by a ruler. He’s got a regular grid going on over there, complete with what might even be an x and y axis.

Damn.

“Why are you doing that?” Zach must’ve noticed the same thing I did.

“What?” Dom asks once his mouth is no longer full.

“Cutting your dinner up like that?”

Dom shrugs. If this was in-between takes on set, I would initiate some bullshit sessions to get to know these guys. I find people’s backstories fascinating. One of my fellow porn stars decided to do adult films after his legit acting career didn’t take off. Another did it because his ex-girlfriend dared him to. I even knew a man who did it while married with kids.

“Doesn’t this bug your wife?” I asked him once, both of us standing there naked as the day we were born in preparation for a menage scene.

“No, man. She’s cool with it as long as I’m being a solid provider and wear protection every single time.”

To each their own, I guess.

This isn’t the same scenario, but Sadie hasn’t instituted any rule about not sharing communication with our opposing teammates. So, what’s the harm in a bit of digging?

“It’s nice in here,” I gesture with my empty fork. “Upscale. Looks like it’s gonna be a cushy few months. This is my first time in New Hampshire.” I casually take another bite and swallow. “How ‘bout you two?”

“Been leaf peeping in Vermont but never here,” Zach volunteers.

We each peer at the other guy who’s just gulped down the last of his food, but he spends an inordinate amount of time killing off his beer and straightening his table linens. Zach and I keep blinking at Dom, but all we get is crickets.

But I know just the thing to get the ball rolling.

“I started with Elegance just a few months ago after doing a decade of porn.”

Zach nearly spits out his food. “Wow, son, never saw that coming.”

“Don’t know why,” I tell him, keeping my tone mild. “Elegance is a site for sex work.”

To be fair, freelancing contractors don’t have access to other contractor’s profiles, only prospective clients do.

“Yeah, I get that, but the closest thing I’ve ever done to this is go viral on Fans4You.” Those youthful features of his cloud over like a building storm. “I’m a dancer by trade.”

“Exotic?” I surmise.

“Ballet, actually. At least originally. Even made it to the Broadway circuit.”

“What happened?” This issues from Dom, his voice so deep I bet he could do a wicked Sly Stallone impression. Dom even sort of resembles the younger version of him.

Zach doesn’t miss a beat.

“Tore my ACLs.”

“What? Both of them?” I ask. Fuck, I hope not. That would make him about the unluckiest son of a bitch in the world. For once, instead of speaking up, Zach touches a finger to the tip of his nose. “Damn. Bet that put you out of commission for a while.”

“From ballet? Oh, yeah. I can get around fine, but all that high-impact stuff had to end. That’s why I’m here.” Zach wears a self-deprecating smirk, and now that he’s not droning on as if to hear his own voice, I can actually empathize with the guy.

“Fans4You?” Dom inquires, a man of few words.

“That was my bitchy ex’s idea. So was the pole dancing, so credit where credit is due. That sort of workout is great for flexibility and fitness without overexerting my knees, you know? But she uh...”

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