Because that’s howLove at First Sailworks. If, by the end of each week, you haven’t found someone you’re interestedin, or who is interested in you, then you have to hope there’s another soul somewhere on board who’s ready to take a chance on love.
All that to say, the main pool is fairly busy at all times, because the public never knows when a cast member might come by to hit on someone and invite them onto the show. Even ifweknow that those who are “chosen” are actually producer plants, the general public doesn’t. Otherwise, what would be the appeal of vacationing on the Gemstone over some other mega-cruise?
Meanwhile, theLove at First Sailpool, on its corresponding deck, is like a tropical oasis, tucked away at the stern of the ship. By design, the water is Jacuzzi-warm. It means that contestants are often hopping out of the water to cool off…and flaunt their scantily clad bodies. It makes for pretty decent TV, if you’re watching less for the drama and more for the…plot.
If by “plot,” you mean “nudity.”
Because thereisnudity—a fair amount of it, actually—and it’s just one more thing that makesLove at First Saildifferent from other reality shows. Shedding your clothes on set is not only allowed, it’sencouraged, and it certainly makes for some interesting scenarios.
Like the scene I’m currently filming, in which Duncan is trying to beat Molly in a game of strip poker.
In the eyes of the contestants gathered around the table, and even the other crew off to the side—a DOP, a sound guy, two PAs, Demi, and several other producers—Molly doesn’t appear to know what she’s doing. Her linen cover-up lies in a heap nearby, and her sandals have been discarded under the table. She’s down to just her swimsuit and she keeps glancing nervously at Duncan, who is still fully clothed as he tilts back on his chair with a confident grin.
“Tell you what, sweetheart,” Duncan drawls. “If I win this hand, you take off the lasttwopieces of clothing you’re wearing.”
Molly looks at him, innocent and wide-eyed, and asks, “And what ifyoulose?”
“I’ll take everything off.”
A few men behind him—clearly able to see his hand—snicker.
“Alright, then…” she says, though I can tell she’s faking the hesitation in her voice.
I wouldn’t blame anyone watching this scene play out for thinking that Molly’s going to lose. She’s almost completely naked and hasn’t won more than one hand.
But they don’t know her—not like I do.
Because I know that, when we were bored and broke in college, the two of us would frequently visit the nearby casino so she could shark overconfident finance bros. It paid the rent, and it was a good reminder that the best friend I had known for years wasn’t just a bombshell. She was smart. Cunning. And had anexcellentpoker face.
So, I already knew Molly was going to take this man for all he was worth—in this case, his entire wardrobe—leaving him completely nude, and either entirely mortified or extremely aroused.
That is why I have my camera focused entirely onhisface, while the DOP is more preoccupied with Molly. He might think he’s about to get a great shot of the leggy blond losing both the game and her remaining clothing, but as Molly slow-rolls her four of a kind, crushing Duncan’s full house, I know it’s the shotI’veframed perfectly that’s going to make the show. And to think I was only supposed to be here to get B-roll of drinks being poured. Funny how that happens.
What’s even more ironic is that, as Duncan shoots forward from his precarious perch—sculpted brows knit together in shock at her cards—I can also see what’s coming next. His chair is still only supporting him on its two back legs. And they’re starting to bow.
I move my fingers skillfully to the lens, zooming out fast to frame the entire scene just before Duncan’s chair emits a deafeningCRACKas the legs break clean off the seat, flinging him backward. I wince, watching as his back smacks the ground, and flick my eyes to Molly. She doesn’t even flinch, a smug smile resting comfortably on her face.
A few of Duncan’s castmates rush to make sure he’s alright, but he waves them off. By the look on his face, it seems that he’s gotten past the initial shock of her sneaky win—and his embarrassing fall—because a dark grin is tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands up and pulls off his clothes, baring all for the world to see.
“Nowthat,” Duncan croaks, grabbing a half-empty glass of amber liquid from the table and shooting it back, “was hot.”
Molly’s grin widens as she leans back in her chair, and I can’t help but silently root for these two.
EvenifI despise her.
Molly stands, her black bikini bottoms hugging tight to her body, and she slides her arm around Duncan’s naked waist, fitting into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Duncan reaches down to tilt her chin up toward him and plants a passionate, if somewhat overeager, kiss on her waiting lips. I roll my eyes. The ridiculousness of the kiss is just for show, that much is obvious—even if his uninhibited admiration of her had been genuine.
It feels sleazy.
Especially with his dick hanging out.
But Molly doesn’t seem to care.
As the crowd disperses, producers move to chat with their contestants and PAs slink off to the corners of the pool area to talk in hushed tones. Across the deck, I notice Molly break away from Duncan to move to the bar, which is kitted out in tacky bamboo and grasscloth.
“She’s certainly a handful.” I jump at Demi’s displeased voice as she appears beside me, her gaze lasering across thedeck at Molly. I shudder—I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of that withering glare.
