Chapter 11: The Business Lunch
The rooftop breeze was warm, carrying the scent of grilling meat and the impending rain that hadn’t yet fallen. Suki twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers, watching the city’s neon palette bleed into the deepening purple sky.
“Seventy thousand,” Catriona said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. She didn’t need to say more. The number hung between them, electric.
“In a week,” Suki added, her voice quiet. She took a sip of her wine, the chill of it a sharp contrast to the warm air. The number was more than a statistic. It was validation, relief, a future. It was also a door swinging open onto a room she hadn’t fully planned to enter.
“They loved it. The comments are… graphic. In the best way.” Catriona’s smile was all mischief. “They’re calling it ‘artisan.’ ‘Visceral.’ One guy wrote a four-paragraph essay on the cinematography of the… finish.”
Suki laughed, but it came out thin. She set her glass down carefully. The memory of that finish—Aidan’s hands on her hips, the shocking warmth painting her skin, Catriona’s intense focus behind the lens—flashed through her, vivid and tactile. It wasn’t just a memory of a shoot. It felt like a memory of him.
“Cat,” she started, then stopped. She traced a condensation ring on the table.
Catriona watched her, the playful grin softening into something more perceptive. “What’s up?”
“It feels different now.” Suki forced herself to meet her friend’s eyes. “After. It doesn’t feel like just content.”
“You mean Aidan.”
Suki nodded, swallowing. “I think about him. Not just… physically. I replayed the raw footage yesterday, just to check the audio levels, and I got completely distracted watching his face. When he took the blindfold off. The way he looked at me.” She shook her head, feeling foolish. “It’s unprofessional.”
“It’s human,” Catriona corrected, her tone matter-of-fact. She reached over, stealing an olive from Suki’s plate. “I’ve noticed.”
Suki’s eyes snapped up. “You have?”
“Please. The way you two made coffee in my kitchen yesterday. The way he handed you the mug, your fingers touching. The silent little moment that took. It was like a ten-hour slow burn movie condensed into three seconds.” Catriona popped the olive in her mouth. “It’s hot. It makes it real. That’s what they’re paying for.”
“But it is real. For me. That’s the problem.” The confession spilled out, raw. “I can’t just switch it off when the cameras stop. I tried. I thought about hiring some random male model for the next one, to even things out, and the idea made my skin crawl.”
Catriona was silent for a moment, her gaze steady. The string lights above them flickered in a gust of wind. “Don’t hire a random.”
“Then what? This can’t be a one-time thing. The numbers prove that. But I can’t do this if it’s just going to get… messy.”
“Who says it has to be messy?” Catriona leaned forward, elbows on the table, her eyes alight with a new idea. “We lean into it. We turn the reality into the product.”
Suki frowned. “What does that mean?”
“A live stream. The three of us. No script, no edits. We set up, we go live, and we just… let it happen. We take questions from the top tipper, we interact. We let them see the actual dynamic. The tension, the laughs, the real desire. We let them see you wanting him.” Her words came faster, painting the picture. “It’s unfiltered. It’s dangerous. It’s fucking electric. And the tips will be insane.”
Suki felt her heartbeat in her throat. A live stream. No safety net. No ability to edit out a look that was too genuine, a word that was too tender. It would be all of it, exposed. The very thought sent a thrill of terror, and something else, coursing through her. She imagined Aidan’s reaction. The easygoing guy from the spreadsheet would vanish, replaced by the man from the rug, the one whose focus could shatter her.
“He’d never agree,” Suki breathed, but it was a weak protest.
“He will if I ask him,” Catriona said, simple and sure. “And he will because he likes you. He liked you before. He really likes you now. It’s written all over him.” She paused, letting it sink in. “This isn’t me pushing my husband on you, Suk. This is me seeing a perfect, explosive synergy and wanting to light the fuse. For all of us.”
The waiter appeared, refilling their water glasses, a momentary intrusion of normalcy. When he left, Suki stared out at the city. The first fat drops of rain began to hit the glass barrier of the rooftop, smearing the lights into watery constellations.
A live stream. Subscribers typing their fantasies, their demands, watching her and Aidan fulfill them in real time, with Catriona as their conductor. The intimacy of it was staggering. The professionalism was gone. This would be something else entirely.
She thought of the numbers. Seventy thousand. She thought of the rent on her apartment with the floor-to-ceiling windows. She thought of Aidan’s hands, and the sound he made when he came.
She turned back to Catriona. The nervous energy was still there, buzzing under her skin, but it had fused with a sharp, greedy excitement.
“When?” Suki asked, her voice low.
Catriona’s smile returned, wide and triumphant. “Friday night. Prime time. We’ll use your place. I’ll handle the tech setup. You just… be ready.”
Suki nodded, picking up her wineglass again. The rain began to fall in earnest, a steady patter on the rooftop canopy. The city below blurred into a impressionist painting of light and motion.
“I’ll be ready,” she said. And for the first time, she felt the momentum not as something she was controlling, but as a current she was willingly stepping into, letting it pull her wherever it was going.