It was a Saturday morning and I was getting ready to attend an awards gala dinner. Our latest project had won a prestigious award and as the author of the story, I was to receive a gift from my studio.
I was brimming with excitement; today, I would meet my favorite actress in person, the one whom I have a serious crush on. Confession time… yes, I’m bisexual! I love women just as much as men.
She was a gorgeous 23-year-old blonde, a British girl who mostly acted in female-led films. It was said she loved my narratives and, as I watched her bring my stories to life on screen, I could see that she indeed had a passion for my scripts.
I ordered an Uber and headed to the restaurant. It was a posh Michelin-starred establishment. Despite never having dined in such a place before, I relished the experience, even though I felt a bit out of place. My table was right beneath a gigantic chandelier, its price tag likely exceeding our entire project budget.
I was in awe of the surroundings, though I found the food lackluster. I am just a simple girl from Hungary after all; no matter how gourmet the preparation, nothing beats my mother’s home cooking.
Across the room, roughly twenty feet away, sat Emily. She was radiant, her soft brunette hair cascading over her shoulders, her smile lighting up her face. Dressed in a silk gown that reflected the room’s soft lighting, she was the epitome of grace and allure. She was stunning, and I found it hard to take my eyes off her.
As we concluded our meal, the director – a jovical man with contagious enthusiasm – guided me around, introducing me to the cast of our project. Each greeted me warmly, expressing appreciation for my work, occasionally hugging me.
Then, finally, it was her turn. Emily. Up close, her radiance seemed magnified. She greeted me not with professional formality but with genuine warmth. She praised my stories and how she felt connected to them. To my delight, she proposed we discuss my ideas and stories further and we swapped contact details.
Our communications were initially sporadic, with infrequent text exchanges of ideas, thoughts, and observations. Over time, these casual texts evolved into frequent chats, weekend calls, and shared laughter. We weren’t just colleagues, we were becoming friends.
Emily and I shared common interests. She loved nature and hiking and was curious about meditation. As an experienced meditator, I guided her through her practice and even introduced her to yoga.
As we grew closer, we began to talk about our work and its challenges. She confided in me about her preference for working with women and her intention to focus solely on female-centric roles. I responded jokingly, that if it were up to me, I’d only write female-led roles for her.
Our discussions gradually ventured into deeper territories. One night, after cracking up over some funny work stories, we hit a quiet spot. Feeling comfy in the silence, I decided to share a more personal aspect of my work.
‘You know, Emily,’ I began cautiously, ‘writing adult narratives… it’s not without its challenges.’ I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself. ‘It stirs something within me. A passion, an intensity that often translates into a physical response… it’s an integral part of the process.’ Before she could jump to any conclusions, I quickly added, ‘In order to maintain my focus and continue my work, I find it necessary to channel this energy… in a personal, intimate way.’ I left the words hanging, hoping she’d understand and eager to see her reaction.
There was a pause. Then, to my surprise, Emily broke into a grin. “I never realized writing could be so… challenging,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine observing such a process. I would love to be a fly on the wall during your ‘secret routine’,” she added. We both burst into laughter, the tension evaporating.
Our laughter subsided and Emily, still smiling, leaned in closer. “Ever considered sharing your ‘secret process’ on a wider platform? Something like… OnlyFans?” Her suggestion took me aback. I had heard of the platform, but never considered it for myself.
A spark ignited within me at her words. OnlyFans? It was enticing, yet unfamiliar territory. “Maybe,” I said, my eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The conclusion of my next chapter hung tantalizingly in the air, yet unwritten.