Emily gives me a look, like she knows something’s up and wants to ask me what, but she spares a glance for the cameras—a couple of the camera guys have stopped talking to the photographer and gotten back to work, now that Emily’s here—and doesn’t say anything. Which is fine. I don’t want to talk about it, anyway. I’m just being stupid, so there’s nothing to talk about.
I hear the Not-Wives coming from about a mile away. Calista is complaining that they didn’t have the right kind of mud wraps for her thighs, Kate is saying that she can’t possibly do any strenuous activity when she hasn’t had her electrolytes, and Genesis is offering crosses to anyone who wants to “look sexy for Jesus.”They come walking up the path with handlers who are carrying big umbrellas the cameramen usually use to keep the sun from shining on their equipment. Now the umbrellas are sheltering the Not-Wives, though I’m not sure from what, because there won’t be direct sunlight in this part of the canyon for another couple hours.
Maybe they expect paparazzi to be climbing the cliff, trying to get a shot of the women in their lingerie? It’s not like we’re doing naked photos of Kim Watterson here.Then I could see their point.
Emily leans against a tree nearby, watching the Not-Wives approach.Their outfits for the shoot range from Kate’s g-string and skimpy bra to Calista’s teddy with garters to Genesis and Monroe, who are both wearing silk nighties that fall to mid-thigh.Their wardrobe people know what they’re doing and these women care about their bodies, so of course they look good.
It still stings that Emily suggested this was my fantasy.This feels like a mockery, and I hate that she thinks this is what I want.
Destyny comes skipping over. She’s wearing a pink bra and a set of matching lace panties, and while I imagine they’re not see-through, I don’t want to look too closely. Rich let each of the Not-Wives take a two-minute shower this morning to prepare for the photo shoot, with cameras right outside catching every shouted indignity about the size of the bathing facilities. Destyny looks a lot happier for it now, though, and I’m guessing they’re all relieved not to have their pictures taken on their fourth day of dry shampoo.
“Jason!” Destyny says, waving her bedazzled harness at me. “I need you to help me get into my harness!”
Technically, climbing safety is my job here, but the way she stands with her hip cocked and her eyes focused right at my crotch, I know she’s not actually asking for my help. “I’m not on equipment duty today,” I tell her. “Ask Geoff orTim.” I’m not going to make any assumptions about whether the guys are going to enjoy helping her, but at least they don’t have to do it in their underwear.
Destyny runs her eyes up and down my body, and it’s a hundred times worse than when Emily did that. It’s hot out here, but my arms and legs feel cold, and I just want to disappear.
Damn, why can’t I pull it together?
“Come on,” Destyny says. She dangles the harness in one hand and twirls one of her blond curls with the other. “I need you to strap me in.”
She puts emphasis on the wordstraplike it’s dirty, and over by the tree, I hear Emily laugh.
I shoot a death glare in her direction, and she just looks confused in return. I suddenly want to shout at her that she’s just standing there when she could be rescuing me from this situation. I want to storm back to camp and find some clothes and tell Rich I won’t do this and he can’t make me.
But I’m a fucking professional. I’m not going to throw a diva fit. Instead I point violently in Emily’s direction. She knows how to fit a climbing harness just as well as I do. “Emily would be happy to help you,” I say, and I walk in a wide circle around her and stalk over to Geoff andTim to make sure they’re ready on belay.
Geoff andTim both smirk when they see me approach, and I shoot them the same death glare I gave Emily. “One comment and I’ll kick both your asses.”
Geoff holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, man. No problem.”They exchange a look, no doubt wondering where my sense of humor’s gone to, and possibly crediting my bad mood to the problems between me and Emily. But whatever. I don’t owe them an explanation. I just want to get this over with.
“Rich says you’re up first,” Geoff says. “So you can help the other women get into position.”
I close my eyes. I’m sure Rich used exactly those words, and I’m sure they’re going to be thrown back at me by several of the Not-Wives in a much more suggestive voice. I usually love my job, but my job is not usually to organize burlesque climbing, and if it was, it wouldn’t be anything like this, because I have some friends that are into burlesque, and they are also fucking professionals who care about things like boundaries and consent.
This, though.This is going to be a shit show. I haven’t even been up on that wall and I already know it.
“I’ll go up first,” I tell Geoff. “But I want to belay after that. You can handle getting them on and off the wall.”
Geoff shakes his head. “Sorry, dude. You know you’re the face they want on camera.”
I want to argue that they’re just takingpictureswhich I shouldn’t even bein. But no, he’s talking about the cameras that are filming the show. Of course they want to catch every possible inappropriate remark the Not-Wives might make at me, as well as my reaction shots, and Emily’s.They’re probably hoping to catch me checking out Kate or one of the others. It’s not going to happen, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be able to make it look like it did with some clever editing after the fact.
I officially hate this project. I wish I’d never agreed to it.
“Jason!” Rich shouts from the photographer’s platform. “Ready when you are!”
I turn to Geoff. He’s got the ropes all tied off and ready to belay. “You got this?”
“Yeah, man,” Geoff says. “Do you?”
No, I don’t. But I can’t back out now without making the show more about me, so I give him a crisp nod and head over to put on my harness and climbing shoes and then clip in. I don’t need ropes for as high as I’m going—and none of us are wearing helmets. But they don’t want pictures of me actually climbing. I’m supposed to lean back into the harness, away from the wall, so they can get full frontal shots in all of my mostly-naked glory.
The thing is, I have a lot of YouTube followers who watch my show because they want to watch, and I quote, “the Hot Guys Climb Stuff show.” I get a lot of comments about being attractive, and even now that I’m with Emily, I don’t mind the attention. It’s good for views, and I’m not particularly interested in telling people there’s a right way to consume my content, as long as they aren’t harassing my people or putting anyone in danger.
This isn’t any different, I tell myself as I climb up high enough to lean back into the harness. I call the belay commands to Geoff and he answers back, and this all should feel comfortable and normal, like it usually does.
But this time, I’ve got a photographer who isnotone of my normal camera guys shouting instructions at me.
