He’s not wrong. I’ve screwed a couple of my co-stars before, back in the day, but it’s always been casual. Not like Elle. She barely looked at me off-camera yesterday after our little episode in her suite. A fully clothed conversation over camomile tea got me hotter than I can remember being in along time. Unfortunately, it’s had the opposite effect on her. She’s freezing me out.
‘I have nothing but respect for Elle,’ I say now. ‘And it’s not like there won’t be at least half a dozen other people breathing down our necks, even on a closed set. Intimate it will not be. We’ll be fine.’
‘Good man.’ He slaps me on the shoulder. ‘She’s fucking beautiful, though, isn’t she? Mind if I have a crack at her? Thought I’d ask her out for a drink. Or maybe invite her for a drink in my room. Probably more discreet.’ He winks at me in the mirror.
Thor has a lot of groupies waiting outside the studios each day. More than me, even. He was in a big soap over here calledEastendersand I can tell women would consider him good-looking. He told me he used to be a professional footballer before an injury forced him to go into modelling and acting. I personally wouldn’t go for his overly groomed, head-to-toe-Gucci-with-matching-fanny-pack look if I was a chick, but he’ll be a big star next season when his romantic storyline takes the lead.
A hunch tells me he’s not Elle’s type, but what do I know? I can’t be sure of anything with her. A wave of nausea washes over me as I contemplate this guy hitting on her, and her allowing it. But it’s none of my fucking business. She made that clear. I fucked up and I lost all rights to her. I’m not her keeper and I can’t get in the way of her life. Her happiness.
I give him a tight smile. ‘Go for it, man. She’s awesome.’
He shakes out his hand in triumph, and I flinch.
‘Nice one. Thanks, mate. And good luck today, yeah?’
I’ll need it.
Obviously, we’ve prepped and prepped for this scene. Not only did we do a full run-through with Kate yesterday, blocking out every move, but we had an insanely detailed conversation with Kate and the costume department aroundwhat Elle will be wearing under her dress, because over the course of Dominic and Georgiana’s wedding night, I’ll be taking off layer after layer, unfolding her like a precious flower.
Dominic specifically makes a point of dismissing Georgiana’s maid, telling her he wishes to undress his wife himself. I’m totally with Dominic. He’s finally getting access to the girl of his dreams: he wants to unwrap his fucking wedding present himself. And the removal of all those layers is the best kind of foreplay. It’shot.
What’s even hotter, and pretty shocking to me, is that these well-bred ladies didn’t wear panties. No, sir. Drawers were considered racy, and under these gowns and petticoats and corsets and stockings and shifts, these ladies were bare.
When Hilary, one of the set costumers, told us that, I had to look down at my script. Holy fuck. Elle, dressed up in all her tantalising layers under a beautiful gown, and she’sbare? Come on. I’m a dude. I had to slide my chair further under the table in the trailer where the meeting was happening, because I was worried I’d disgrace myself.
And I’m worried I’ll disgrace myself today. I’ve never had that misfortune, but I’ve never had to undress Elle Hart on camera, and since the other night, my thoughts about her have ratcheted up to the point that I can’t get her out of my head.
Elle won’t be the only one exposed today. I’m ready to shed my jacket and waistcoat and pants and drawers and shirt, leaving me butt-naked except for my Hibue—a flesh-coloured, stick-on thong that makes me look like a fucking Ken doll. Alyssa has been insistent that this show will portray the female gaze as much as the male gaze.
I’ve been working out like crazy in the hotel gym every evening, but I’m nervous as hell. Getting naked in front of an ex who despises you, on camera, when your body is five years older than last time she saw it, is a fucking nightmarescenario. Still, I know Elle must be dreading it as much as me. We just need to get through this intact.
We’re breaking up the beginning part of the scene—where Dominic undresses Georgiana and himself—into a tonne of segments, mainly close-ups, so it will be pretty mechanical, and there aren’t many lines for us to say aside from Dominic’s compliments to Georgiana and his words of encouragement.
He’s not a total douche: he’s seriously into this woman and he wants it to be good for her, too. Their wedding night is as much about educating her and getting her on board as it is about him smashing that pristine surface of hers and claiming her as his own.
The first few hours of shooting go pretty well. Kate’s there every step of the way. At this stage of the process, it’s less about making sure we’re comfortable and more about imbuing each moment, each step in the choreography, with as much intimacy and sensuality and anticipation as we can. There’s a lot of set-up, as Abigail wants this beautifully lit. As she puts it, our skin should glow, and our eyes should shine, and the fabric of our clothing should tantalise at every step.
I step behind Elle and unfasten the silk-covered buttons down the back of her dress, focusing on what fiddly little fuckers they are, rather than the glimpses of her corset underneath.
I slide her dress off of her, my fingers lovingly following its progress down her arms.
I sweep her hair reverently over her shoulder and run my lips along her skin from one corset strap to the other as she bows her head and trembles.
I turn her around so I can tip her chin up and kiss her and tell her she’s beautiful, she’s mine. The wardrobe department explained they’d opted not to use a shift, or chemise, sacrificing historical accuracy for aesthetics. She’s just in hercorset and a slim silk petticoat, but that thing has her tits trussed up and practically in my face, and they look fan-fucking-tastic.
I bend and press my lips to the curve at the top of her breast, and Elle gasps and holds onto my upper arm. Just like we agreed.
But I’m not being fair to Elle, because I’m not acting. As Dominic removes Georgiana’s clothing and discovers her body—worships it—so I’m reacquainting myself with the body of the woman I love, the body I haven’t had a chance to worship in five years.
After lunch (lighton my part, because I gotta get naked soon and show off my hard-earned six-pack), we’re down to the tough stuff. Kate explained yesterday she would have Elle and me gaze into each other’s eyes for a few minutes before we film the action on Dominic’s massive four-poster bed, ‘to establish intimacy and trust.’ I think I’m more nervous about that than getting my butt out.
Once Elle and I have our marks, I lean in towards her ear.
‘Hey. I just want you to know I’m pretty nervous. This kinda thing isn’t fun for anybody. Okay? So if you wanna stop at any time, just say it. I’ll back you up, one hundred percent.’
Her eyes dart away and back like she’s trying to work out if I’m serious. ‘Okay.’ She nods. ‘Thanks. But we’ll be fine. Let’s just try to get through it in as few takes as possible.’
‘Amen to that. I bet you’ve never been so desperate to shake my hand.’
