Page 40 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Yeah, a little different than your roommate, right?” he asks. “Don’t you live withSapphic Emerald?”

“Yeah, she typically goes by Emerald or Em.” When my fingers finally find the lavender set, I face Lance once more.

“Makes sense.”

“Or Sapphy,” I add with a laugh, remembering when someone called her that on a shoot I was helping with. “Although, I don’t think that one’s going to stick.”

“Actually, that’s not bad.” With the tripod set up, he seems to be waiting for me. “DoesSapphyever film for you?”

“Sometimes, but she’s running errands today. Tripods should be fine.”

“We don’t need a camerawoman. I was just curious.” He runs his hand through his hair again and I wonder if he’s nervous. “Lucky for you to have someone in-house though. Or lucky for her,” he adds.

“A bit of both. Do you have a roommate or someone who helps?” I lean gently against the dresser. The afternoon sun is shining brightly into the room, reflecting off of his eyes, turning them gold. The effect is striking.

“Nah, my roommate, he, er-” Lance chuckles. “He’s not as comfortable around all this as we are. He doesn’t judge though. We’ve been friends more than half our lives, but I wouldn’t subject him to this.”

“I’m sure your friendship has survived worse than him seeing you naked.”

“Oh, definitely. But I care about his comfort. I’m not sure he’d want to see me naked with a woman, much less anyone else.”

“That’s right,” I say with sudden realization. “You recently started filming with men, didn’t you? It’s kind of refreshing to meet a straight guy who doesn’t get hung up on that. Most men don’t even want to be naked in the same room as another man, let alone touch them. A lot of amateurs would run screaming.”

I stop. Lance isn’t looking at me anymore and I wonder if I hit a nerve. Instead, his eyes are unfocused, aimed at the bed.

“Er, so releases and IDs first?” I ask. “I’ve got copies if you need one.”

“Nope, I’m covered.” He recovers and bends down to reach for his backpack again.

“Is it weird that I find that level of professionalism hot?” I ask, stifling a laugh.

“It gets all the women wet.” He winks.

The paperwork and ID photos are quick. When we finish, Lance claps his hands and rubs them together.

“Ok, how can I help?”

I have to swallow the nerves. Usually by now, I’m fine. I’m comfortable. Something about Lance has me amped up in a wholly unfamiliar way. It doesn’t feel like a warning bell, but I still can’t figure out what it means.

I strip so I can change into the lingerie, speaking while doing so.

“Any limits?” I ask.

“I don’t think we’re going to encounter any during this scene unless you intend to stick a needle in me.”

I snort.

“Definitely not.”

“Kissing?” asks Lance and I nearly drop the pair of panties as I pull them on.

“This is going to sound weird,” I mutter as I pull up the underwear. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I confess, “No forehead kisses.”

Lance stares in amusement. He crosses his arms and leans back against the door frame.

“No forehead kisses,” he repeats. “But I can stick my tongue down your throat.” I nod.

“Look, I don’t know why. I can do the nastiest, freakiest things, but,” I point at him for emphasis, “you kiss me on the forehead, you better be prepared for the consequences.”

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