Chapter 1: The Saliva Scene, Take Seventeen
Sneha’s bedroom was a sanctuary, or at least it was supposed to be. The soft glow of jasmine candles flickered against the pale walls, casting long shadows that danced with the rhythm of her breathing. The air was heavy with the scent of the candles, almost cloying, but it was a smell she’d come to associate with calm. Or maybe just the illusion of it. Her bed, a grand four-poster with dark wood and silk sheets, loomed in the center of the room. It was a statement piece, something she’d bought when she’d first made it big, back when she still believed her success would feel like freedom.
Tonight, though, it felt more like a stage.
She lay back against the pillows, her body tense despite the plushness beneath her. Rohan was on the bed with her, his weight dipping the mattress as he leaned over her. His breath was warm and sour, a mix of stale whiskey and something she didn’t want to identify. She could feel the heat of him, too close, too present. His hand brushed her arm, and she flinched, though she didn’t pull away. She never did.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with something she didn’t want to name. “You know that, right?”
She forced a smile, the kind she’d practiced in the mirror a thousand times. “Thank you, Rohan,” she said, her voice steady, though her stomach churned. It was always like this—the compliments, the closeness, the way he looked at her like she was something to be consumed.
Raj was in the corner, his camera trained on them. She could hear the faint click of the shutter, the whir of the lens as it adjusted. He didn’t say much, just watched, his eyes darting between the camera and the scene unfolding on the bed. She hated the way he looked at her, too, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. Or maybe just a spectacle.
“Can we get a little more... dynamic?” Raj asked, his voice cutting through the tension. “Maybe something with a bit more... energy?”
Sneha’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “Sure,” she said, her voice light, like this was just another day on set. She shifted, arching her back slightly, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. She knew what he wanted—what they both wanted. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Rohan leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice trembling with something that might have been awe, or maybe just desperation. “You know that, right?”
She nodded again, her smile still in place. “I know,” she said softly, though the words tasted like ash in her mouth.
His hand moved to her waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered on her body, and she fought the urge to shove him away. Instead, she tilted her head, letting her hair fall in a curtain over her face. It was a small shield, but it was something.
Raj’s camera clicked again, the sound sharp and intrusive. “That’s perfect,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “Just like that.”
Sneha closed her eyes, blocking out the room, the men, the camera. She focused on the scent of the candles, the softness of the sheets beneath her. She told herself this was just another role, another performance. But the weight of Rohan’s hand on her waist, the heat of his breath against her skin—it was too real, too much.
“Sneha,” Rohan whispered, his voice trembling. “Can I...?”
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something raw and desperate, and for a moment, she felt a pang of pity. But it was quickly swallowed by the anger simmering beneath her skin. “Not tonight,” she said softly, her voice firm despite the tightness in her chest.
He hesitated, his hand still on her waist, and for a moment, she thought he might argue. But then he nodded, pulling back slightly. “Of course,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment. “Whatever you want.”
She wanted to scream, to tell him to get out, to leave her alone. But she didn’t. Instead, she smiled, the same practiced smile she’d given him a thousand times before. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, though it felt like a lie.
Raj lowered the camera, his expression unreadable. “That’s a wrap,” he said, his voice flat. “We’ll pick up again tomorrow.”
Sneha nodded, her body still tense. She watched as Rohan climbed off the bed, his movements awkward and stilted. He glanced back at her, his eyes lingering for a moment, before he turned and followed Raj out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind them, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands trembled as she pulled the sheets around her, the silk cool against her skin. She stared at the ceiling, the shadows still dancing in the candlelight, and tried to steady her breathing.
But the weight of the night clung to her, heavy and suffocating, and she knew sleep wouldn’t come easily.