Chapter 7: The Next Scene
The following evening carried a different kind of tension, one strung taut with anticipation and a low, humming awkwardness. Aidan stood in Suki’s pristine living room, holding a six-pack of craft beer like a peace offering. The space felt different now—the emerald velvet sofa, the expensive stereo, the tasteful art on the walls—all of it was backdrop to what had happened in the next room.
“You brought sustenance. Smart man,” Catriona said, taking the beers from him. She was already curled in the corner of the sofa, looking utterly at home.
Suki emerged from her bedroom, dressed in loose linen trousers and a simple tank top, her hair piled in a messy bun. She looked tired, but her eyes were sharp. “Laptop’s ready. I’ve got the raw file cued up.” She gestured to the large-screen television mounted on the wall. “Big screen or small screen?”
Aidan’s stomach flipped. “Is ‘no screen’ an option?”
“Nope,” both women said in unison, then shared a quick, conspiratorial smile.
“Big screen,” Catriona decided. “We should see the details. All of them.”
Suki nodded, connecting her laptop with a few clicks. The television screen went black, then showed her editing software timeline, a chaotic ribbon of color and waveform. She found the file, titled simply SHOOT_01_RAW. “Remember,” she said, her finger hovering over the trackpad. “This is just the raw footage from the main camera. No sound mixing, no color correction. It’s… clinical.”
“Play it,” Aidan said, his voice firmer than he felt. He sat down in an armchair, putting a few feet of polished concrete floor between himself and the women on the sofa.
Suki clicked.
The screen filled with the familiar sight of her own bedroom, golden and quiet. For a few seconds, it was just an empty room—the rumpled sheets, the tripod visible in the corner of the frame. Then they walked in. Seeing themselves from this third-person perspective was immediately, profoundly disorienting. There was Aidan, looking slightly dazed, being led by Suki. There was Catriona, moving with purposeful efficiency to check the camera angle.
“God, my ass looks huge in those shorts,” Catriona remarked cheerfully, taking a sip of beer.
“Shut up, it does not,” Suki muttered, her eyes fixed on the screen.
They watched Suki undress Aidan. The slowness of it, the way her hands lingered on his stomach, was more intense to watch than it had been to experience. The audio was a mess of ambient noise—the rustle of fabric, their breathing, the distant traffic—but it felt deafening. Aidan saw himself close his eyes as Suki’s mouth traveled down his chest. He saw the tremor in his own thighs.
“The lighting is actually perfect,” Suki said, her critic’s voice cutting through the intimacy. “See how the sunset hits the sweat on his back there? That’s pure gold.”
Then came the 69 position. The camera angle was brutal, unflinching. Aidan watched the back of Suki’s head bob in his lap, saw his own hands gripping her hips. He saw his own face appear from between her thighs, focused and driven. He heard a raw, guttural sound and realized it was his own groan, muffled by her flesh.
He took a long, deep drink of beer. His face felt hot.
Catriona was leaning forward, her analytical gaze glued to the screen. “The angle captures everything. Look at your face, Suki, right there—that’s the first one. Perfect.”
On screen, Suki’s body did indeed shudder, a violent, beautiful contraction. A moment later, Aidan pulled away, flipping her over with a startling ease. The penetration shot, the one Catriona had zoomed in on, was even more explicit than Aidan had imagined. He saw the stretched, slick tension of her body accepting his, the detailed, frantic rhythm. It was obscene. It was anatomy. It was, undeniably, compelling.
He chanced a glance at Suki. She was sitting perfectly still, one hand pressed to her lips, her expression unreadable. Catriona’s hand had crept to Suki’s knee, a silent anchor.
The final moments played out. His strained expression, the choked warning, the pull-back. The climax was startlingly vivid on the big screen—a stark, white contrast against Suki’s dark skin, painting her lower back in liquid streaks. The camera held, as Catriona had been instructed, on the aftermath: the slow, viscous drip, the goosebumps on Suki’s skin, the exhausted rise and fall of her spine.
Suki hit the spacebar. The screen froze on that image.
Silence engulfed the room, broken only by the whisper of the air conditioning.
“Well,” Aidan finally said, his voice rough. “That’s… me.”
A burst of laughter escaped Catriona, bright and relieving. “Yeah, baby. That’s you.” She turned to Suki. “It’s good, right? I mean, technically, emotionally… it’s good.”
Suki blinked, pulling herself back from wherever she’d gone. She reached for her laptop, closing the video file. The screen returned to her desktop, a serene landscape photo. “It’s better than good,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “The raw footage is… intense. The authenticity is off the charts. Once I grade it, smooth the audio, cut between the angles from the other camera… it’s going to be explosive.” She finally looked at Aidan. “You’re a natural. You didn’t perform. You just… were.”
The praise landed somewhere deep in his chest, warm and disarming. The shame and awkwardness began to recede, replaced by a different, more complex pride. He had done that. They had made that.
“Any notes?” Suki asked, all business again. “Anything you’re uncomfortable with? The… finish shot is pretty graphic. We can cut it shorter if—”
“No,” Aidan interrupted. He cleared his throat. “It’s… it’s part of it. Leave it.”
Catriona’s smile was radiant. “See? I told you he’d be into it.”
“I’m not ‘into it,’” Aidan protested, but he was fighting his own grin. “I just… it’s honest. If we’re doing this, we’re not hiding.”
“Good,” Suki said. A real smile, small but bright, broke through her professional facade. “That’s the brand. Honest intimacy.” She picked up her own beer, took a sip. “So. The subscriber reaction to the teasers has been insane. My inbox is flooded. If we’re serious about a series, we should plan the next one while momentum is high.”
“What’s next?” Aidan asked. The question felt dangerous and exciting.
Catriona uncurled herself, her eyes alight with ideas. “I was thinking. The first one was… discovery. Raw and a little frantic. The next one should be different. Slower. More deliberate. Maybe…” She looked between them, her mischief in full force. “Maybe Suki’s in charge this time. You’re just… there. At her disposal. Let her use you.”
Aidan felt a jolt of heat at the suggestion. He looked at Suki, who held his gaze, her green eyes thoughtful.
“I like that,” Suki said slowly. “A control narrative. It plays against expectation.” She tilted her head. “Are you disposable, Aidan?”
He finished his beer, set the bottle down on the marble floor with a definitive click. The initial shock was gone, burned away by the clinical analysis of the footage and the beer in his veins. What was left was curiosity, and a rising, undeniable hunger to see what else they could create.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy, accepting. “I think I am. When do we shoot?”