I Know Where Your Tongue Has Been

"Oh stop, just stop," Karl shouted in exasperation as I felt her retreat back, with an awkward expression on her face. Was she angry at me for not cooperating, or dare I think that she was angry at him for stopping us again?

"Look at yourself on the screen Darling and tell me: is this a face that shows pleasure and ecstasy?"

Oh Karl, oh Karl. If only I could explain to you that it's exactly because of the screen, and the camera, that I'm looking so pained. If you'd leave the room, or at least give me the freedom to let my emotions run, I'd show you true ecstasy, like you've never seen or captured before.

"No." That was all I could get out.

"Darling, we've done this hundreds of times before. You should be able to give me the perfect orgasmic face in your sleep by now."

She had raised herself and was now straddling my right thigh. Despite the absolute gorgeousness of her naked figure sitting on top of my leg, the slightly erotic make-up on her sweaty face, and the vivid knowledge of where we were and what we were doing, she looked cute, in a disarming way. She turned her head towards Karl, waiting for further instructions, yet she left her right hand laying nonchalantly high between my thighs, that marvelous finger still innocently touching the perfect spot that it had found a few seconds earlier. She didn't seem to be aware of it, but she absentmindedly moved it in slow circles as she kept looking at Karl.

It was in that moment of neglect, watching her beautiful body above me, thinking that even during a pause between shoots, she felt comfortable enough to leave her finger inside me, that I understood why this one was so different. Why she made me feel something new. And why, as weird as it sounds, I absolutely loved her inadvertent finger more than her conscious tongue.

"Give me an erotic face now and then a fake orgasm. No cameras, no stress, no action, just you." Karl turned off the camera, which made the screen go black. He lowered it, took a step to the side and stared at my face. He hadn't spotted her hand, focused as he was on my expressions.

"OK."

It wasn't difficult to feign it, since I was really feeling it. I closed my eyes and pictured a parallel universe where she was intentionally seducing me. The bliss grew with every stroke of her digit, and when I opened my eyes and they locked on hers, I saw the fascination with which she was staring back at me. I figured out that it was her first time seeing another woman's pleasure explode. The sheepish smile on her lips and chaste intrigue in her gaze contrasted with the liquid arousal trickling from her core onto my thigh where she was rather imperceptibly grinding: she was enjoying it too. Whatever her previous sexual preferences were, subconsciously, she was enjoying this as much as I was. That sudden thought propelled me further and I knew that it was just a matter of seconds before I hit my ecstasy.

I kept staring at her, then briefly and repeatedly, glanced at her hand, in the juncture between my thighs where it was hidden. For whatever dark amusement of mine, I needed her to be aware that it was her finger that was causing my orgasm, and not my crude acting skills, as formidable as they were.

After a few glances, she grasped that I was sending her a signal and followed my eyes. She startled at the realization that she was inadvertently stroking me and withdrew her finger.

No, no, no. No.

Life was sure having a blast with all this cruelty. A few minutes ago, I was struggling to stop myself from feeling the pleasure because Karl didn't want us to show an orgasm yet, but now that he needed me to act it out, the idiot in me had to ruin it and cause her to stop. In both cases, in less than ten minutes, I had managed to find myself bothered and desperately needing one touch to take me over the edge.

I couldn't let her do this again, carry me so far then drop me one foot away from the finish line. I clinched my teeth and channelled all my inner emotions then pleaded with my eyes, with every ounce of feeling I could concentrate into one glare. However, I would like to believe that what made her change her mind wasn't my vulnerability, but her innermost instinct to help me, her deep attraction towards me, or her veiled desire to satisfy me. In my head, when I recall the story of us, this is the moment she became aware of all the latent charisma between us.

She tentatively moved her finger again, surprisingly joined by another, the two digits reaching slowly to where I yearned for them to be. Her smile had transformed from a shy one to an adorable conniving grin. But there was also a sense of serenity in her face, as if she had finally come to peace with what we were doing. I smiled back at her, and for the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to make love to someone. Inner spiritual happiness mixed with sexual pleasure from her digits wrapping around my button, pinching and twisting, and I sensed the flood gates open into pure euphoria.

It was a short, rather motionless climax, but it felt more powerful than any and every previous experience in my life.

"That's it, that's it!" Karl gleefully squealed at me. "See? You can do this in your sleep!"

I smiled at him, wondering whether insomnia would be cured if people could enjoy "sleep" as much as I just did. I turned back towards her, she was staring at the two glistening fingers she had just retreated from me. I reached my hand and squeezed hers, in a non-verbal grateful gesture. She squeezed back and the slick remnants of my climax rubbed between our grips, like a secret and unbreakable bond.

Her smile faded slowly, and in the long gaze that followed, I felt something transcending all the carnal joy we had just shared, reaching beyond the cameras and acting sets, to a surreal vision of spending the rest of my life with her. Was that love?

"Let's go back, from the top."

Karl turned his camera back on, the screen buzzed to life with our reflections and everything became professional and rehearsed again. I reluctantly released her hand and manually shifted all the gears in my head into work-mode. I had eight more days to enjoy her presence and either convince myself that it was an imaginary affair, either convince her that it wasn't.

---

"Darling, Honey. Honey, Darling."

Karl's version of an introduction to a new co-worker was hilarious. He always picked an endearing name for each of us. I think it allowed him to detach himself from us as human beings with personalities and emotions, and only regard us as distant art objects that he can contort and command with his every whim.

I finished taking off my shoes and raised my head to greet the new girl. Despite having done this several times before, the first contact never ceased to be awkward. You see this young, rather innocent, woman but there's a lingering thought in the back of your mind that in less than an hour, she will be devoid of clothing, like you, with her face, her hands, her tongue, her whole body actually touching yours and exploring it. She's a stranger, yet you will caress her, kiss her and taste her. But slowly, throughout the five to ten days of shooting that follow, you will grow accustomed to her, almost to a point where you feel intricately intimate with her. Then she'll go her way, you'll go yours, and apart from the internet photographs, where no one could even recognize either of you, it's as if none of it happened, none of it was real.

All of these thoughts flashed in my mind while I smiled to the "Honey" that Karl had chosen along with me for the Valentine's special. However, I was briefly surprised, feeling sad about the story's ending this time. This woman, this specific woman, seemed to be someone worth knowing, beyond the few days on the job.

"OK then, I'll leave you two to get a bit comfortable together." Karl then took my hand and stopped me from unzipping my pants. "No need to get undressed, Darling. There's a problem with the equipment, we won't start until tomorrow." He swiftly turned away and left the changing room.

She sighed of relief almost inaudibly and I wondered if it was her first time. I remembered being this flustered when I met Sweetie the first time I worked with Karl. Just like her name, she was very sweet and she instantly put me at ease. I briefly pondered if in the grand scheme of the universe, our arbitrary endearing names somehow fit with our person, and how I, as a Darling, should then behave. I looked at Honey again, and stopped myself right when the thought of her taste crept into my mind.

"So tell me about yourself." That was definitely the worst icebreaker I could think of.

"What do you want to know?" she asked, as she caressed a blond strand back and sat on the chair opposite mine.

"Oh, I have no idea. What's the protocol in this kind of situation?" We both chuckled and that broke the tension.

"If you must know," she eventually said, "I tickle easily, there's always music in my head when I'm naked, rock music specifically, my left leg cramps a bit when there's too much pressure on it, and I keep everything clean down there." She stopped for a second to let me assess the unusual mix of information she had just divulged. Then she smiled and continued, "well, now you know everything you need to know about me, aside from where my tongue has been."

I started to laugh then I anxiously realized that in less than twenty four hours, I knew exactly where her tongue would be.