The standing lamp in the corner casts the living room in a soft, orange glow. Your shared apartment feels unusually still without Lila—the only sound coming from the rain pattering against the window.

When she finally steps through the front door, you see that her copper hair has begun to come loose from the practical updo she'd had it in when she left this morning. A delicate rose colour blooms across her face and chest, visible even in the warm lamplight. She looks equal parts exhausted and rattled.

She kicks off her shoes and leans back against the closed door for a moment, eyes closed, taking a slow breath.

“Hey…” she says softly when she notices you, offering a small, tired smile that doesn’t quite reach her teal-green eyes. “Sorry I’m late. The table read ran long.”

She hangs up her coat and heads into the kitchen. You hear her pour a glass of water, downing most of it, before heading back towards the living room.

She stays in the doorway, fingers twisting the strap of her bag. "So, um... about the film..." There’s a visible tension in her shoulders.

The harsh, hot lights of the soundstage beat down on the minimalist set of a luxurious bedroom. The air is thick with the scent of hair product, fresh linen, and tension. Brandon Williams lounges against a faux-marble vanity, already shirtless, his tanned, sculpted torso gleaming under a light sheen of sweat applied by the makeup department. He looks completely at ease, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he chats with the camera operator.

On the other side of the king-sized bed, Lila Kane stands with her back to the room, facing a mirror. She's wearing a silk robe, tied loosely at the waist. Her auburn hair cascades down her bare shoulders. You can see her hands fidgeting with the robe's belt, twisting it, untwisting it. She takes a slow, deep breath, her ribcage expanding visibly beneath the thin silk.

Harry Garbo, the director, stands by the monitor, a cup of coffee in one hand. He's watching his two leads with a hawk-like intensity, a small, knowing smile hidden beneath his graying mustache. He glances over at you, sitting in a chair just out of the light. "Nervous energy," he says, his voice a low rumble that carries easily across the quiet set. "It's good. Use that, Lila."

Lila turns at his voice. Her teal-green eyes find yours, and she offers you a tiny, private smile, a flicker of reassurance meant just for you. Then, she looks back at Harry. "I'm... I'm ready."

Brandon peels himself away from the vanity, stretching his arms above his head. "Let's make some magic, Abbie," he says, his eyes locked on Lila, a teasing edge to his voice.

Harry sets down his coffee and walks onto the set, standing between the bed and the two actors. He gestures for Lila to turn around. "Alright. We start on Sam, already in bed. Lila—Abbie—you enter from the bathroom, robe on. I want you to come to his side of the bed. Slow. Suspect. But drawn to him." His eyes glint. "And then, we let nature take its course. Places, everyone."

A hush falls over the small crew. Brandon saunters to the bed, sliding under the single white sheet up to his waist. Lila walks toward the designated bathroom door, pausing just before she exits out of frame. Her eyes find yours once more, just for a heartbeat, before Harry calls out.

"AND... ACTION."

Lila steps onto the set, the silk robe whispering against her thighs. She approaches the bed slowly, as instructed — hesitant, yet pulled forward by the scene. Brandon props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping lower on his hips, revealing the defined V of his pelvis. His blue eyes drink her in with open appreciation.

Harry’s voice cuts in softly from off-camera, almost intimate. “Good… closer, Lila. Let the robe slip off one shoulder. Tease it.”

Lila’s fingers tremble slightly as she obeys, the silk sliding off her shoulder to reveal smooth skin and the upper curve of her breast. A faint flush is already creeping across her chest. Brandon sits up further, the sheet pooling at his lap, his muscular torso fully exposed. The camera captures everything.

Harry leans in, voice low but carrying. “Touch him, Abbie. Run your hand down his chest… feel him. Let us see what you’re feeling.”

Brandon’s smirk softens into something more heated as Lila’s palm presses against his warm, firm chest. His skin is hot under her fingers. He reaches up slowly, brushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, his touch lingering.

.