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But I’m falling so hard for Scarlett. I don’t usetheword, not even to myself, because it’s too soon. But I know I am because she’s all I think about, every thought I have now is how can I please her, add to her life, simplify her life, make her happier. And after our night, and the way I easily and surprisingly opened up to her this morning about my life in Michigan—I know.
I know as I stare at the silk robe she drops to her feet.
I know as Alexa swipes lipstick across Scarlett’s full lips.
I know as Otis strokes lube along his shaft, and Maxi readies herself.
I want her forever, even if neither of us are ready for that. And I also know, watching her hold Maxi’s head steady as Otis impales her throat, all while Lucy Lovegood offers sweet words of encouragement.
Lucy Lovegood ismine. And right then on set, with a boom arm in my lap and duct tape in my hand, eaten by the shadows of the set, I get hard.
I get so unbelievably, achingly hard that I have to excuse myself.
Locking the bathroom door, I grip the edge of the sink, my heart racing a million miles a minute. This has never happened before. Ever. And that’s not what has my goddamn mind spinning.
I’m not just getting erections, but Iwantto masturbate. I want to unzip my pants and choke my cock until it spits into this sink, and I want her name on my lips, the taste of her cunt on my tongue.
It’s the first time I’ve really wanted to be… a normal man again.
I won’t do Crave that way, though. Coming into the sink at a porn production company has Jizzabelle written all over it, not Crave.
I adjust myself and splash water in my face, and return to my spot in the corner, in the dark, and work on the boom arm as the scene resumes.
When the slates clatter, my eyes veer from the broken boom to Lucy. The tips of her fingers are lost in Maxi’s hair as she grips her, keeping Maxi steady.
Otis surges forward, his cock disappearing into her mouth, and both of them make noises of approval.
“Good girl,” Lucy breathes, leaning down to whisper the praise into Maxi’s ear. It’s a reverse cuckold scene, with Lucy and Otis being the couple, Maxi being the third brought in to pleasure Otis. I’ve heard this scene run several times over the years, because viewers like cuck and reverse cuck.
But today, I can’t fucking look away.
I don’t want a third, but watching her work has me like a goddamn brick. She is so good at this, she makes everything feel real. I watch with bated breath, knowing it's nothing more than a scene in an adult film, but I’m buying it. I’m seeing Lucy give permission to Otis, I’m seeing them go through women together at a bar until they stumble across Maxi and make her their third. I see what’s not there, because she’s so fucking good at what she does.
“Cohen,” Lance interrupts my thoughts, and I make sure the boom arm is over my lap so my hard dick is hidden.
“What’s up?” I ask, pulling my gaze from her.
“Two of the surveillance cameras in the back lot are shattered. The replacements are here. Can you get them installed before you go? We asked the building manager but he’s out of town. I know it’s not your normal task—”
I cut him off. “I’ll do it now,” I say, needing fresh air but also immediately on edge. I want those cameras more than ever since Pete showed up here not too long ago. Those cameras keep us all safe, but they also keep us aware, and awareness is key when you’ve got a fucking loser clinger ex hovering around.
I follow Lance to where the boxes are stacked, and grab them, and my tool belt and head outside. The San Francisco breeze licks at my neck, and it’s just what I need to kill the hard-on between my legs. I respect Crave and Aug and everyone here far too much to be that guy.
But I install those cameras with a smile on my face, because I never thought I could be that guy.
“What brings you two in this evening?” the salesman asks as Scarlett and I walk into a little furniture store shoved into a small shop on the corner not far from Crave.
I watch her fingers stroke over the back of a leather couch, something neither of us need as we purchased couches a month back. But ever since I got hard watching her work, everything she does is making me hard. And I don’t want to feel fucking creepy about it, but I’m relieved, and I want to bask in it.Just a little.
“We’re kind of hunting for a few things,” she muses, looking around the small shop that has every square inch of real estate packed with things, tags hanging off all of it. The carpet is maroon and dingy, and the lights flicker, but the furniture looks just the same as something from a department store. And there’s a very real part of me that wonders how long we’ll have the things we purchase here tonight.
How long will we live in two separate places?
I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t see my life without her anymore.Holy shit.
I grab the edge of a tall dresser, steadying myself as that thought nearly wipes me off my feet. Fuck, I want to cry a little everytime I realize I am finally moving forward. Tears of relief that I won’t be miserable forever, tears of joy to be happy again… and tears of grief and pain, because moving on feels like I’m pushing them away.
I think of Valerie right then, as Scarlett lifts a lampshade off a lamp, asking the salesman about different styles and colors. My eyes follow the binder he pulls out, full of worn pages of lamps and rugs, but I tune out their small talk. My mind is back there.
