Actually, things are going great right until my phone starts ringing and I see Ben’s number on the caller ID.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“You don’t have to greet me like that every time you pick up the phone,” he says. “I was just calling to let you know that something’s come up and I’m going to need you to double the amount of money per payment.”
“Nope,” I tell him. “You and I had a deal. I was worried that you might try to do something like this, and I even told you that I wouldn’t let it happen.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Ben says. “So I’m going to need $10,000 by midnight tonight, not $5,000.”
“Did you find more pictures or something?” I ask. “Because you’re trying to hold my feet closer to the fire, only you don’t have any more fuel for it.”
“I never said that you’d still have to make as many payments,” Ben says, “I’m not asking for more money. I just wanted to inform you that it’s $10,000 now. Send me a message after you’ve deposited the money, and assuming that everything goes through all right, I’ll put in my password so you can have another month without anyone knowing what kind of a slut you are.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. “I didn’t even want to take those pictures, and even if I did, that wouldn’t make me a slut. We were dating. It’s not like I was letting anyone who had a camera take a picture of me that day, only you after you whined and badgered me like a little girl who’s still trying to convince her parents to get her a pony.”
That actually felt kind of good.
“Say whatever you want,” Ben says, “but if $10,000 isn’t in my account before midnight, you can start thinking about how many people are going to be beating off to naked pics of you in the water.”
The way he says it makes me gag a little.
With any kind of notoriety, you always run the risk of someone taking a picture of you or a video and jerking off to it. That doesn’t really bother me so much, mostly because I don’t have to hear about it. Having Ben present that, though, has put an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“Fine,” I tell him, “but we’re not going to do this again. I’ll give you twice the money in half the amount of time, but if you try something like this again, it’s not going to work out so well for you.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says. “So, I should expect my money today?”
“You’ll get your fucking money,” I tell him. “Just stop calling me.”
He hangs up and I want to strangle someone. Right now, I don’t even think it matters who.
This isn’t what I needed tonight.
The thing about doing an onscreen sex scene, even one that doesn’t show any of the naughty bits, is that people have gotten so used to seeing sex being simulated in movies or in commercials, if you want a no nudity or partial nudity only sex scene to make any sort of impression, it needs to look good.
There’s intimacy and there’s muscle memory. A kiss can be affected a lot more visually by intimacy than sex can. That’s not to say that intimacy doesn’t change the nature of a sexual encounter, it’s just not as visible on film.
We wrapped for the day a few hours early, so Damian and I had talked about getting together tonight and doing a non-dress rehearsal of tomorrow’s scene.
Now, though, I’m pissed off. I really need to start looking at the caller ID before I pick up a call, but to tell you the truth, even seeing that name on my phone probably would have put me somewhere about here.
How the hell am I supposed to focus when I’m this irritated?
The good news is, there’s an easy way to relax and it just so happens to relieve nervousness as well. It’s called alcohol, and I’ve got plenty of it at home.
Now, I’m not a big drinker, but every once in a while, something comes up where I need a drink and I need about 20 of its friends to follow it.
Just thinking about that chemical relief has me breathing a little easier.
I just hope nobody gets in my way, because with the mood I’m in, I don’t know that I’d be that quick to swerve.
I get home and into my house, and I don’t even bother to close the door. I’m on a mission.
Now, I’m thinking that three shots are probably the magic number. One or two may not be enough and four or five might be more than enough. I’m not looking to get plastered; I just need to chill the fuck out so I can be present for the awkward night that lies ahead.
Still, this blueberry vodka tastes pretty good.
I have a second shot and it tastes even better than the first.