Page 18 of Rhythm and Rapture

"Creative control?" I ask, because I've learned to negotiate in this industry. Never accept the first offer, always clarify the boundaries.

"Full creative license within the theme. You choose the concept, the execution, the wardrobe—or lack thereof. You can even choose to work with other performers if you want collaborative content." She pulls up something on her tablet, showing me examples from the other months. "Monty did a threesome scene for February that was basically fine art. Sold more prints than any other month."

The images are genuinely beautiful—thoughtful composition, dramatic lighting, bodies portrayed as art rather than just flesh. Action shots that capture movement and passion without being crude. This is what Lorna does best—elevate adult content beyond the crude and into something approaching actual artistry.

"Photography will be Chad," she continues. "He's our exclusive photographer for the calendar. We only work with him for these shoots—he's the best at what he does. Filmography is Monty for the video content that accompanies each month'sspread. Both are required—stills and video. They're both professionals who understand the assignment."

She pauses, studying my face with the intensity of someone reading a complex equation. "The calendar requires full intimate scenes, not just suggestive poses. Given what you shared during your interview about your... experience level... I need to know if this is something you'd be willing and able to do."

The question hits me like a physical blow. She's asking if I'm ready to lose my virginity on camera, essentially. My mouth goes dry.

"Take a minute," Lorna says, reading my expression. "I need to check on something with the filming crew anyway. Think about it."

She leaves me alone in her office, and I stare at the alien tattoo on her desk lamp as if it might provide answers. My hands are shaking slightly.

This is what I've been avoiding for five years. Not just sex, but the vulnerability that comes with it. The risk of losing control, of letting someone see me as more than just a brain or a caretaker or a problem-solver. I've built my entire identity around being strong, independent, unbreakable—because Kael needed me to be those things.

But sitting here, I realize I've been lying to myself. It's not just about time or money or mathematical equations. It's about fear. Fear of being seen, of being judged, of discovering that maybe I'm not as strong as I've pretended to be. Fear of wanting something for myself when I've spent so long only wanting things for Kael.

The irony isn't lost on me—I've been explaining human sexual response to thousands of people while being too terrified to experience it myself. I know the biochemistry, the neurochemistry, the psychology. But I've never known what it feels like to be touched by someone who wants me, to surrendercontrol long enough to discover what my body is capable of feeling.

Maybe this is exactly what I need. Not a fumbling encounter with someone who might want more than I can give, but a controlled environment where I can explore my sexuality on my own terms. Where I can experience something I've been denying myself while still maintaining the boundaries that keep me safe.

And if I'm being completely honest with myself, there's something appealing about the idea of being desired, of being seen as more than just a brilliant mind or a devoted guardian. Something appealing about finally understanding what I've been teaching others about, about bridging the gap between theory and practice.

When Lorna returns, she takes one look at my face and nods. "You've decided."

"I can do it," I say, and this time I mean it. "Actually, I think I need to do it."

My phone buzzes with a notification. I glance at the screen and can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

Roman: We're intrigued. And partially concerned. But mostly intrigued. Should we be preparing release forms? Safety equipment? Our last wills and testaments?

Ash: I vote for all of the above

Felix: What exactly did you have in mind for this collaboration?

Suddenly, I know exactly what my collaboration will be. Everything starts clicking into place with almost audible precision.

Lorna notices my expression change. "Good news?"

"Actually, yes." I look up from my phone. "I think I know exactly how this collaboration is going to work."

"Oh?" She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the alien tattoo seeming to lean forward in interest.

"I want to do the June shoot with partners. Three of them, specifically. Musicians who understand the intersection of art and science."

"Musicians?" She taps her pen against her lips thoughtfully. "That's actually brilliant. Music and chemistry, rhythm and reaction... I can see the vision already. Tell me more."

"They're called Fractured Theory. Independent artists who've been watching my streams. They reached out about a collaboration—I think this could be perfect. Educational content about the chemistry of attraction, but with this added layer of artistic interpretation through music."

"Ambitious. I like it." Lorna nods approvingly, already making notes on her tablet. "They'll need STD tests, NDAs, and a list of hard no's. Standard protocol for any collaborative content. Full panel, recent results—we don't fuck around with health and safety."

"Of course."

"The calendar photoshoot is in four days, on Thursday. Think you can coordinate that quickly?"

Four days, less than that really. To arrange tests, travel, contracts, and mentally prepare for meeting three men I've only known through a handful of messages and a few hours of increasingly flirty videos while stuck in LA traffic. Men who know me only as The Hidden Chemist, while I know them only through their music—lyrics that somehow speak to my soul despite never having met the people who wrote them. It should feel impossible. Instead, it feels like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place."I think I can manage it."

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