Red light

10. Red light (Izuna)

I furrowed my brows in concentration. The steam around me had a sweet smell to it that I would've enjoyed if it wasn't for the smell of burnt hair intermingled with it.

I straightened my hair so rarely, preferring to let it be naturally wavy, mostly because straightening it took so long. But in a way, I was glad that was the case because that made me feel extra pretty on the few occasions where I brought my GHD out of the toolbox.

I felt the same tingling excitement that had come and gone all day bubbling back up again. I hadn't even considered the other factors that would come when I started filming with Will other than the increased income and the increased risk of being recognised. This, however, was a welcome such factor.

I had been invited to small galas before, but never to a party. And absolutely not a luxurious one such as this. It was going to be held on the top floor of a skyscraper in the city and it would be full of famous porn stars and sex workers. I knew that a while ago, I would be hesitant to go because I was frightened of surrounding myself with people who would have a bad influence on me. Now, however, when I've met so many of them, I knew that many porn actors and sex workers were warm, kind and open, especially when it came to the LHBTQ scene. My mind had opened up to this working category, so when the invitation came, I had accepted.

It had been Will who invited me, which was a relief as I was afraid he thought badly of me since he'd noticed, if not as much as Tobirama had then at least slightly, that I was hesitant last time we filmed. But as soon as I picked up my phone, he'd greeted me with an 'Izuna, my star!' When he'd dropped his invitation on me and I had said I didn't know whether I belonged among the stars or not, he had just laughed, said I had to get used to being among them since I was one of them now. It scared me and thrilled me at the same time.

"Is..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Tobirama going to be there?" Will ended the sentence for me. "He's always there. Whatever it is, he's always there."

So now I was standing in front of my mirror, wearing a pair of black, flared trousers and a grey, oversized knitted sweater that showed one shoulder, a black velvet choker, plateau Steve Madden heels and a bit of dark eyeshadow on, admiring my freckles that started to show, straightening my hair while trying to convince myself I wasn't trying to make myself pretty for him.

Which was ridiculous because of course I was.

These last few days, I'd had to force the thought of us in that bed away several times as it had made me blush like an idiot. Who knew the man could be so sensitive, so gentle, so kind? But it wasn't only his kindness I thought of. Thinking about the things he did to me sent shivers through my thighs that were so powerful I had to stop whatever I was doing and close my eyes for a few seconds, or those shivers would spread throughout my entire body and consume me. But why? Why was I feeling so much pleasure thinking about it? I had been so scared of it, so uncomfortable. Why had I enjoyed it so much this time as compared to last?

Safety. That was what it all came down to. I didn't dislike kinky shit per se; I disliked feeling unsafe. And he had removed that. And once he had removed that, I could start enjoying myself.

I had a tendency to store occurrences as flashes of images in my mind. I had several of those flashes regarding the last time I filmed with him. His hands grabbing my thigh. My hand grabbing the sheets. How he had closed his eyes when he took one of my small, erect, brown nipples into his mouth. His eyes when he put his belt around my neck as a collar and pulled. The tiny, tiny flash of worry in his eyes when he slapped me the first time. I couldn't help but squeal inwardly when I thought about the fact that I would see him tonight. I'd never seen him party. I wondered if he was as competent at partying as he was at fucking.