by Sunniva Dee
I throw my hands in the air. “Exactly, it’s what I’m trying to say.” This side of Luka, insistent, intense, passionate— Was he always like this?
“So if I invited you on set, you’d just be flat-out bored?”
“Disgusted and bored.”
“We just established that I don’t disgust you.”
“No, but I’d be disgusted about what you’re doing there.”
“Or scared I’d get you horny without even touching you?”
“What the hell, Luka?” He’s so fucking rude tonight. “You need to leave now, because James’ll be here any minute,” I say, and that gets his stomach rippling with laughter. He also needs to button up, which I won’t tell him, because that’s sure as hell going to make him crack up.
“Cool. So, I’m inviting you on set tomorrow.”
“What? No, I’ve got class.”
“Your last class was two days ago. You’re chickening out because in reality, you’re jeal—”
“I’m not! All right, fine. Oh my god, you’re unbelievable. I guess I’ll just do an anthropological study of— of the lot of you. Take notes,” I say hoping to get in a jab. Sadly, he just hoods his eyes again like he can see it now, enjoying the view of the hot librarian taking notes on him having sex—
Crap!
“Sounds good. Alrighty, we’re heading out early. Seven sharp. It’ll be a long day. Gotta make up for the half day I’m missing due to our flight. Tomorrow I’m having fifteen dates.”
“Dates! Jesus.”
“Well, fucks, then. Better?”
My lips part and close. I have no good comeback to any of this. Except: “I don’t have that much time. I can’t snore my way through you having sex for twelve hours.”
“You can always join me if you get bored. Be number sixteen—or I’ll slip you in between to break up the monotony.”
“Monotony, huh?” I stand as majestically as I can and lead the way toward my door. I want him out before I can think any more about him without clothes.
“Yeah, you know, polished machine sex with pros. It’s refreshing with amateurs who don’t come on command.”
I don’t even have scoffs left in me now, so I just wave, an awkward swat toward the door. My eyes feel too big. “Just. Leave.”
He waves too, biting his lip as he imitates my ridiculous gesture, back-stepping into the hallway. When I shove the door closed after him, I hear him laugh out there.
Luka stands back, nodding once, and links his thumb in a front pocket while the director of Thousand and One Nights shakes my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Geneva. She’s beautiful,” Gianni Alexie tells Luka and smiles. Luka lets out a soft grunt of agreement.
I think I expected Alexie to ogle me, but he’s polite, not spending a second on my unassuming boobs and legs. “I can see why you don’t want your girl in the jungle on her own,” he says.
I open my mouth to object against the your-girl part but think better of it. One side of my brain believes they’ll want to pull me into their game if I’m single. The other side explains that I’m an idiot if I think they use un-auditioned women with pro studs they pay big money.
“Would you like to wait in the Green Room?” Mr. Alexie asks, lifting a meaty hand and already waving toward a wiry assistant with a clipboard.
“Oh no, my baby’s here to watch firsthand. She got sick of getting it secondhand through the movies.”
“Oh, of course.” Alexie nods like this is common. “Hal! Grab another chair, will you? Geneva’ll be up close. Up close?” He raises his brows in a question, first to me, then to Luka while I remain quietly shell-shocked.
“You wanted up close, right, baby?” Luka whispers against my ear. The intimacy of it doesn’t disturb Alexie. He’s perfectly at ease, gaze on our interaction while he waits for the answer.
“Yep,” I say, trying to make my brave-blurt sound believable.
Luka keeps a hand on my shoulder as he leans into the director, murmuring, “It turns her on.”
“Of course,” Alexie answers easily while all the blood congregates in my face.
I’d love to slip out of here in this second, but if I did, Luka would win and he’d have more fodder for his teasing. I fake another smile, ignoring the flames in my cheeks. Luka’s stomach tenses with suppressed laughter against my hip. Oh I’ll get him back. Just wait until the jungle. Mwa. Ha. Ha.
“Well, enjoy the show. We love Luka around here. He’s a true artist and always gives one hundred percent. You should be proud of him.”
“Oh yeah, so proud,” I garble. It seems my expression pulls off sincere, though, because Alexie sends me another genuine smile and delivers a last pat on the shoulder.
“See you at lunch.”
A beautiful copper-haired femme fatale tips her breasts above the lining of some lingerie-gown. She winks her lashes at Luka from atop the silk sheets. Behind them, there’s nothing but a green screen. In front, seven camera men target them with their lenses. Actually, one of them is a woman, and for some reason that surprises me.
A plethora of spotlights shine over the makeshift stage, and I wonder if they’ll make the “artists” uncomfortably warm. There are fans in here too, but none of them are switched on.
The femme fatale has a few other girls surrounding her. They’re partly dressed and wiggling on top of what looks like a silk-clad platform full of pillows. The adornment is sparse. Some flowers, incense, and candles, but mostly it looks bare. I guess the green screen is where they’ll be projecting the actual background when they edit? I’ve seen documentaries on how films are made, but to see it in person is kind of fascinating. I wish it wasn’t all about Luka Verenich getting laid like a madman.
“Do you want something to drink?” Hal, the producer, comes over, concerned-looking. “We have food too if you’re interested.”
“Oh, I’ll wait for lunch,” I say. “But thank you for the offer. Very sweet.”
“Any time. And if you feel like moving at any point, let me know.” He juts his head toward the back of the room where a few others sit. One of them is a guy. It’s pretty clear that he’s all about the copper-haired femme fatale. Boyfriend? As in real boyfriend? I can’t even imagine.
Luka saunters over in harem pants hanging low on his hips. They’re white and show off a perfect V. I know for a fact everything around his... holiest... is waxed, as smooth as turtle shells and baby butts. It was my first time for that, and goddamn as unfamiliar as that was, nothing was in the way when I kissed him there.
I forget to breathe as he lowers himself onto the pedestal. Elbows first, he prowls upward, and the girl makes a strange display of fake fear. This is C-film material at best. Just, Luka isn’t. He’s in it, hard, and his hands, barely darker than the copper-femme’s porcelain skin, run a smooth path up her thighs until they cup her breasts. He squeezes, purposely letting rosy nipples peak out between his fingers. The camera girl mutters, “Nice. Do that again.”
He repeats the move.
Every camera boasts green lights, so they’re definitely filming.
I’m on the outside, watching, an observer doing exactly what I told Luka I’d do. It’s interesting. I’ve always hated his industry, staying away from porn, but now the scientist in me craves knowledge.
I study the girl’s fake emotions and wonder what Joy would read out of the situation. Why is she here, doing this, if that’s her boyfriend in the back of the room? Is it money or maybe personal history that makes her repeat encounters she can control herself this time around? I’ve read about that.
My stomach contorts when Luka curves his palms around the back of her head. He raises her a little from the mattress, whispers something, and it looks so intimate. Why would he do that? It’s just porn. Get on with it already. Enough with the surely unauthorized dialog.
Her lips are
full and as rosy as her nipples. I feel like a voyeur to someone else’s love story/sex life when her face smoothes in a real smile at Luka’s words. I don’t want to know what he said.
She falls back against the pillows, opening her legs, and Luka dives in. Crap, it’s like it’s his first meal in ages, the way he laps at her. I’m so close I hear his groans! Luka’s eyes shut with pleasure, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, and his bangs fall, a few at a time, and that too is mesmerizing and beautiful and painful.
I don’t know.
I choke a growl when he enters her deep. She arches off the mattress meeting his thrusts, and I hate that she looks like she loves it. I’m not crying. No, that would be crazy. There is no moisture in my eyes, but my heart is beating like a motherfucker.
I blink, hearing Hal at my ear. From behind, he asks, “Ready for a drink?”
I nod furiously.
He doesn’t ask what kind, and I can’t take my eyes off the dance of Luka with Copper-Femme. It’s like they do this every day. It’s like they’re made for each other.
I press my lips shut, sucking them in between my teeth. Nostrils flaring with emotion, I don’t look up when Hal’s voice is at my ear again. “Here. It’s a bloody Mary, but strong. Just let me know if you’d rather have wine.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Do you want to move to the back?” he asks, but I shake my head. I’m no chicken. Hell, I’ve been through worse. This is just some guy I have no claim to, a twin brother pounding a chick I don’t know.
The boyfriend in the back is deeper into this than I am. I take a chunky tomato sip through my straw, feeling the heat of the vodka warm my insides. Luka varies between fast and slow undulating movements. It makes a soft area beneath my ribs ache.
The straw I have is wide, to accommodate the tomato pulp, I’m sure. I suck in deeply, and within minutes, the numbness of the alcohol warms me while my travel partner fucks a girl’s brains out stone sober.
I feel like lazy-laughing by the time the girl lets out a squeal of pleasure that sounds authentic. I turn my head to the man in the back. Eyes deep and alive, his face has frozen into blankness, and I wonder what makes someone fall for a person who shares the most fragile, intimate parts of themselves with strangers.
The man’s stare floats to me. Naked, it’s muddled with grief, incredulity, and love. I don’t pull away even as Luka groans behind me, and for a second, the man’s eyes widen. It’s easy to interpret his thoughts. Why aren’t you looking when your man comes in my woman?
Fuck.
I get up and walk out, Luka’s groan still splintering my chest. It’s not my feelings for him. I’m sure it’s just that guy’s fault.
“It’s a wrap,” Alexie shouts. “Take five.”
I find the ladies’ room and stalk inside. Four steel stalls, perfectly sterile with the disinfectant burning the inside of my nostrils. My mouth knots downward as I lock myself in, sinking to the top of a toilet without undressing or lifting the lid.
The door opens and closes. “Geneva. Are you there?”
“Are you even dressed?” I cry out, and I sound like a porn chick—I’m not bawling. No. I have no reason to—
Except my fiancé is gone, and my life’s a mess, and—
“I’m dressed,” Luka states calmly, coldly, like he didn’t just make Copper-Femme roll her eyes deep into her skull. I hate that I know how he feels in me now, and this sucks. It sucks so bad.
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? You’re in the ladies’ room.”
“Open.” The steel in front of me wiggles against his palms.
“So you can see me pee? No, you’ll have to save that fetish for your colleagues.”
“Geneva, I’m breaking the door down if you don’t open.”
“Yeah, smart move when you’re trying to save money.”
“I don’t fucking care. One. Two.”
His hands slam against my door while I shout, “Quit it! I’ll open. Enough.”
My door stops rocking, the bathroom going silent.
“Last chance, Geneva.”
“Why though?”
“Just. Open.”
Soundlessly, I glide the bolt upward. Pull the door toward me enough to make a crack. I glimpse him outside then, beautiful features streaked by moist bangs. That moisture comes from his exertions with a girl I never knew existed.
He’s overheated. The spotlights and the girl made him hot in all ways that count. Now, the perspiration is drying on his chest. Dressed in black sweatpants and barefoot, he pushes the opening wider and instantly zeroes in on my eyes.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here, should I?” He lifts his shoulders helplessly. “I was all over the place last night.”
I push his hands off me, and he shows me his palms. They remain below his shoulders instead of high and insulting.
“Is it too much for you to be here?”
“No. It was the guy in the back that made me feel weird,” I say.
“Amelia’s husband?”
“That’s what he is? Her husband?”
“Yeah.”
I close my eyes when the hands that just caressed Amelia filter into my hair. He doesn’t ask for permission when he puckers soft kisses to my forehead the way you’d do a daughter, a niece, someone you love platonically.
“They got married a few months ago. Love each other desperately, and Amelia had decided to get out of porn. But she’s been in the industry for a few years, and Darren works at the Home Depot. They just don’t have the funds for her to quit.”
“She earns more than he does.”
“Yeah. Quadruple.”
“Shit.”
Luka folds me in, kissing the top of my head, and I crave his comfort for the pain etched into Darren’s features.
“Don’t feel bad. Please? They’ll figure it out. Main thing is they know what they want. With as hell bent as they are, they’ll get there soon.”
I swallow. “She was pretty comfy with you there, for a moment.”
“Oh her orgasm?” he asks so lightly.
“Duh. That.”
He lets air out through his nostrils, steaming a section of my hair. “It’s not what you think. Imagine athletes and their talents in certain areas.”
His arms keep my waist rooted against his hips, and I lean back to study him. “You’re kidding?”
“No. Some people have a sexual switch that’s easier to flip on than others.”
“Oh, right, I know those people. They’re called guys,” I half-joke.
Luka almost-smiles. “Sure, but girls too. The differences are huge between you ladies. My first girlfriend, for instance, didn’t have much of a libido.”
What? That’s surprising, because—
“How did you survive that?”
“I didn’t.” It’s rare to see guilt on Luka, but I think this qualifies. “Over the year we were together, all I did was wait for my nuts to explode. All she did was grimace and slip out of my arms. Dude, I’ve never spent more time in the midst of a clique of friends in my life. Talk about chaperoned lifestyle.”
He’s making me smile too. “So that’s why you broke up?”
“I guess? I got into the biz, then broke up with her two months later. Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t even blink. She took it like a... um. Pro?”
For a moment, I’m smiling wider. Until I think of Amelia. “That girl in there. She doesn’t really want to sleep with you, does she?”
“Well, we’re friends.” His shoulders rise and sink evenly. “Darren is a friend of mine too now. It’s just they wish she didn’t have to sleep with anyone but him.”
“This place is some sort of alternate reality. I mean, wouldn’t you feel that way if you had a girlfriend?” I ask. “I’ve never seen
you with someone for more than a few weeks, but if you had someone serious, wouldn’t you prefer to have her to yourself?”
The door to the restroom squeaks open, and Amelia enters. “Luka, are you here?”
“He’s here,” I say. We’re at a standstill halfway inside my stall.
“Gianni want us back?” Luka asks.
“Yeah, it’ll be Cindy and me, then Kim at the end with the butt scene.”
“Sounds good. Amelia, this is my girlfriend Geneva.” Luka swings us apart, a valley of cool air filling the space between us. He keeps his grasp on me. For some reason this calms me.
Amelia’s gaze softens. Hazel turns to melted chocolate as she says, “It’s so nice to meet you. I want you to meet my husband too. He likes meeting people from the outside.”
“Pretty sure he knows me already,” I say and explain that we’ve spotted each other.
“He likes to come along when he can. Protection, ya know.” She lets out a throttled laugh. It lasts only seconds before she cuts it off.
It’s a strange sensation when Luka leads me out of the restroom and back to the studio. They’re one scene in, and he’s only been with three girls so far. It’s supposed to be fifteen total. I mean, that must be a lot even for someone like him.
I’m not as appalled as I was when we first arrived, though. Between my anthropological training and the sweetness of everyone I’ve met, my outrage is settling.
Maybe these people simply pay rent by working with likeminded people. A painter, a writer is a natural at what he does. Maybe it’s not so weird that someone is particularly good at sex. Maybe they shouldn’t be looked down upon over it.
These thoughts go against the teachings of western society, of course. Is there a culture out there where sex with strangers for financial gain is acceptable?
My mind does its thing, swirling with loose associations; acts that go against biology/the survival of the human race tend to meet cultural rebuttal. Homosexuality, for instance. Then again, homosexuality was widely accepted in the biggest pre-conquest tribes of Latin America, among the Aztecs, the Mayans, and the Quechuas. Hey, in Ancient Greece and Rome too.
