Page 25 of Felix

I huff a startled laugh, eyes caught on Emil’s little smirk. “I didn’t tell you to. I said I wouldn’t mind it. There’s a difference,” I defend with absolutely zero heat. “I never thought you’d actually do it, you know.”

“Well,” he says, blushing again.

“Mhm. Well, indeed.”

Emil picks at the seam of his jeans. “Um, are you ready? We should probably get out there.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it, Specs.”

Emil puts his book in his locker before we head to Studio 2. The set looks complete now. There’s a bed stationed against one wall, with a fluffy white comforter on top, and other details fill out the room—pictures and decor, all of it making the space look like a real bedroom. Above are lights suspended from the ceiling, and just outside the set sits a large camera on wheels.

“Wow,” I mutter.

“Pretty neat, isn’t it?” Emil says.

I nod.

I can’t say I ever had dreams of being on the big screen, but I did enjoy my high school stint in acting. There’s something magical about being on stage, or, in this case, on set. You get to put your all into it, and no one can tell you to stop being so bold or dramatic. No one tells you to wipe off your makeup or take off your skirt.

I think, for me, theater was a way to feel comfortable in my skin when my parent wouldn’t allow for that. It’s different for me now. I am comfortable in my skin. I express myself the way I want to every single day.

But as I stand in front of the lit-up set, I’m hit with familiar jitters I haven’t felt in years. I won’t be reading Shakespeare today, but this is something I know how to do. It’s something I didn’t realize I missed.

“You’re smiling,” Emil says, looking at me curiously.

“What can I say?” I reply. “I’m excited to get into bed with this cute guy I know.”

He huffs a laugh, looking down at his shoes.

“All right,” comes Jerome’s big, booming voice. “Felix, Vixen, you’re here. Good. Tink and…Kipp. Get outta here. You’ll be watching from a private room. Keep your comments on the up-and-up, gentlemen.”

Alex snorts, clearly not making any promises. But he and Kipp leave the room, the laptop with them.

“Let’s get this started,” Jerome calls.

I give Emil’s arm a nudge. “Come on, Specs. We’re up.”

Emil walks with me over to the bed. I hop up first, patting the spot next to me, and he climbs on, a small smile on his face.

“Here’s how this will go,” Jerome says, addressing the entire crew. “Because we can’t edit these lives, we’re going with a single camera setup, like a typical home video. Otherwise, we risk another getting caught in the shot. Vixen, Felix, there’s a tablet on the end table next to you. It’s opened up to the live chat. As you’ll see, Tink and Kipp are already having a good time.”

I glance at the tablet. The text is enlarged enough for me to be able to read it without getting closer, and, at the moment, it’s filled with eggplant emojis, a few suggestions to take off our clothes, and one rather explicit request involving Emil’s ass and my tongue. I chuckle, realizing the camera must already be recording, at least to our limited viewers down the hall.

Jerome shakes his head, heaving a sigh. “Let’s try taking a few of those comments down just to make sure we can.”

The assistant at the edge of the room nods, his own tablet in hand. A second later, some of the eggplants disappear.

“Good, good,” Jerome says. “All right. Felix, Vixen, go ahead and get started. Move around a bit, try out some positions, imitate sex. We’ll make sure everything looks good from our end.”

“Damn,” I mutter, quirking a smile at Emil. “I guess we’re skipping the foreplay and jumping right into it.”

He chuckles, adjusting his glasses. “Here,” he says, lying back and motioning me forward, reminding me that he’s the pro in this situation. My pulse jumps as he opens his legs wide in invitation, and I hitch up my skirt, crawling forward and settling on top of him.

He blows out a breath, our faces so close I can feel it.

“Okay?” I say quietly.

He nods.

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