Page 122 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

Steven brought a carry-on similar to mine with all his gear.

“I haven’t been to this hotel before.” He looks around the room and nods. “It’s nice. That bed looks comfy.”

“I haven’t tested it out yet,” I chuckle. “Oh and check out the tub.” I jerk my thumb toward the bathroom and Steven pokes his head in to take a peek.

“Oh fuck!”

“I know,” I giggle.

“Maybe if you have time later this weekend, we could use that for a scene.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I do.”

“Well, that’s a bummer.” He glances around, as if unsure how to get things started. “Glad you could make it. Miami is expensive.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky. A friend of mine is actually right next door.” I hook my thumb toward the wall I share with Miles. “Lance Kixxx?”

“I haven’t heard of him. Based out in LA like you?”

“Yeah, we’ve worked together a few times.” And we’re dating. Oh, and we had a threesome with his roommate. Who I’m also dating.

“Nice.” He nods and smiles and I just know he hates the small talk as much as I do.

We take several minutes to cover the legal stuff. Once that’s done, Steven takes out his phone and prepares to snap a few selfies with me. We both grin widely and he throws an arm around my shoulders, holding up a peace sign for the camera.

“Send those to me?” I ask as he sets his phone down.

“I’ll include it with all the footage.” He nods and sets about pulling his tripod and lighting rig from his bag. His is a little different than mine, a large, removable rectangle of individual lights instead of a ring light.

When he pulls out the restraints, I take a deep breath. We talked about this. I gave my consent–enthusiastically, too. The paddle makes me tingle and I’m not entirely sure it’s agoodtingle, but I gave my consent for this too. Steven asked for it every step of the way, with every act we discussed. He doesn’t see my expression falter and, by the time he meets my gaze again, the smile is plastered on my lips once more.

“So, I think we’ll start with you pretending to make the bed,” he says, rehashing what we’ve already agreed to. “Bending over so we can see that gorgeous ass.” He winks. “I’ll come out of the bathroom in just a towel and you can apologize and all that. We’ll do the whole ‘I have something you can clean’ thing and then we’ll get you tied up. Sound good?”

“Yep.” I nod and we make sure the tripods are in place so that the phone cameras won’t catch each other.

It’s the flurry of movement before we start filming that calms my nerves. This is familiar. This is comfortable. I know how to dothis. While Steven finishes setting up, I change into the maid costume. It’s a short, polyester dress that doesn’t even cover my ass. It came with a thong, but that’s pointless since it would be swallowed by my cheeks immediately.

We start recording and get to work. I bend over with my butt facing the cameras, pretending to pull the white comforter higher on the bed and fluffing the pillows. Caught first on my camera and then on his, Steven walks into view, a towel around his waist. He pauses for a moment, staring at my ass while I move.

He startles me when he clears his throat and I turn to face him, still holding a pillow to my chest. The man is chiseled. It’s the first time I’m seeing him shirtless in person and I have to remember we’re filming to keep myselffrom staring.

I stammer an apology, saying I knocked but no one answered. The scene moves along, starting with oral. When we have several minutes of me on my knees in front of him, he suggests a punishment for coming into his room and disturbing him.

This is the part I’m least excited about. He peels off my little dress for the camera and orders me onto the bed. My heart is pumping and it’s not from the usual adrenaline of a scene. Steven slowly circles the bed, holding the leather restraints.

This is fine.

When I lay down, he cuffs my wrists, the faux fur on the inside of the cuffs protecting my soft skin from the edges of the leather.

This is fine.

Outwardly, I’m smiling wickedly, watching everything he does. On the inside, I’m beginning to panic.

“Roll over,” Steven growls. “Ass in the air, pretty little maid.”

I do as he says, sticking my backside up while I keep my chest on the bed. I slide my hands between my legs as close to my feet as possible without cutting off my air supply. Steven goes about attaching a metal rod to the chain linking my wrists. He then cuffs my ankles and attaches them to the same rod. It forces my knees up and my hands down, opening me up to him entirely.

This is fine.

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