“Will it ruin it for you?”
Her question is genuine and although I haven’t tried it before, I understand the answer is no.
It won’t ruin anything.
It may make me so unbearably overwhelmed that I can’t continue, but that’s more of a reason to try than to resist.
I tug my phone out, going to the newest video. The same one that disappointed me on the night I met Rosa. One I haven’t watched nearly as much as I usually would, even with its drawbacks.
“They’re not… it’s not real. The whole thing’s scripted.”
“Okay.” She slides her left hand around my upper arm and cuddles closer, her cheek resting against my shoulder. “Press play.”
My thumb hovers over the button for a moment, wondering if this is a disastrous idea.
Probably. But so would telling her no and expecting her to let me get away with it. I click the screen and try not to turn my attention to her face. The last thing I want her to feel is my eyes crawling over her, searching for any hint of a reaction.
The action unfolds onscreen, and I wince at some of it; not seeing it for what I want out of it but through her eyes. Watching it almost like a diagnostic aid to tell her what’s wrong with me.
Having viewed it enough to have the timing off by heart, I stare at the blank space at the bottom of the image, catching her small facial movements from the corner of my eye. Even though I don’t want to see. Even though I’m suddenly desperate not to know.
“You have a lot like that?”
I shake my head. “There are others along the same lines, but a lot of the scripts get lost in translation. This is closest to what I want.”
She raises her eyebrows at me for permission, then takes the phone out of my hands, clicking earlier in the recording, then playing out tiny snippets again, committing them to memory.
Finally, I can’t stand another second of silence. “What’s the verdict?”
“She’s hot and they’re very well endowed.” She swivels towards me, a smile crinkling her eyes. “Not compared to you maybe but getting up there.”
“I’m not looking at them.”
Rosa wrinkles her nose, drawing me in with her easy laugh. “Sure, but some of us are more interested than others.”
Her giggle relaxes me; letting me know I haven’t offended her but reassuring me I’m not the butt of her joke, either.
“Does that mean you’re coming around to the idea?”
“Of letting you record me?” She squeezes my arm. “No. Just thinking of other possibilities. Wouldn’t you prefer a live show?”
She must feel the tremor that runs through me, because she adds, “Not of you and me. Not like that, anyway.”
She stands but only to face me, lowering herself onto my lap, her knees either side and her feet curling back over my legs behind her. Her arms link around my neck and it’s hard to think with her this close. My hands find their own way around her waist, and I tilt my head forward, so it rests against her collarbone.
Breathing is hard, but it’s easier when I’m not staring directly at her. “How would it work?”
“I would find a paid partner to help with the visual and you would sit and watch.” Her fingers curl into the hairs at the back of my neck, softly massaging.
I don’t think I’ve ever been near someone so tactile, it’s like her skin against my body is as much of a messenger as the words flowing from her mouth.
“We could tie you up if you prefer that.”
The excitement surges within me again as my breath dissipates across her skin, my hands moving to press flat against her back, holding her steady.
I imagine watching a man touching Rosa, right in front of me, acting on my wishes, my commands. A proxy to touch her, taste her. A faceless professional who’s only purpose is to make her moan, make her squirm, make her scream. Doing everything that I would do without the fear surging inside me.
Sweat beads on my forehead, my breath rasping in my throat. Still a voyeur but privy to so much more than a screen can provide me.
