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.

I looked at the final result in the mirror. My hair didn't tumble down but rather fell, landed softly on my back at waist-length in a razor-sharp line; I'd let my hairdresser cut the ends this morning. I felt, all in all, very pretty. I was just about to choose coat from my closet (I had saved my money so I could buy a second one last year) when my mother knocked on my door.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Of course!"

She entered.

"Oh, don't you look pretty!"

I smiled and looked down.

"Thank you", I said, shy of compliments, even the ones that came from my own mother.

"I mean it", my mother said. "God, sometimes I feel like I don't tell you enough."

I turned to my mother, surprised.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

She looked away, smiled a sad smile.

"My inability to provide you a father."

I had never met my father. I knew my mother and him had had a short relationship, that she hadn't meant to become pregnant so young but when she had, her partner had had no interest in being part of it.

I went to my mother and hugged her close.

"You're the only parent I ever needed", I said, and both of us rested well in the truth of that, although now, as I got older, I knew that maybe she was the one who suffered the most because of my lack of a second parent.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

I had to work to the end of my abilities not to stiffen up. I hated lying. Absolutely hated it.

"Afterwork with the library", I said.

"Oh, that's a first", she said, releasing our embrace, looking at me.

I looked down, terrified that if I allowed her to see my eyes she would immediately know that I was, in fact, on my way to a porn- and stripper party.

"Yeah..." I said, blushing like an idiot.

"Izuna, look." My mother lifted a strand of my hair, and I looked at her. "You don't have to tell me everything, you know? You're young. I'm just being curious. And..." She took a deep breath before looking at me again. "I know you're keeping something from me. I don't know what that is, but I want you to know it's okay. I encourage you to have secrets." I saw an image of Tobirama in my mind's eye then; one of my secrets. "But you can always talk to me." She put her hand on my cheek and I took it. "Okay?"

"Okay", I whispered. 

The top floor used for the party was incredible.

It was full of beautifully laid tables, a bar full of drinks and crystal glasses and even a huge, plastic but incredibly realistic cherry blossom tree in the middle. The tree was the only burst of colours in an otherwise midnight blue and dark wooden theme that was incredibly soothing. And the open area was full of exotic-looking people of all genders, sized and colours.

Wow!

I was surprised at how many people who I'd never seen before there were who just seemed to know me, or at least who I was. Not only did they say hi to me as they passed, but they even came up to me to talk. I was shy, yes, but mostly it felt strange that people approached me because of a stardom I normally tried to meticulously hide. But after two glasses of wine, I even started to enjoy it, making the small-talk I usually shunned.

Time passed. Every opportunity I had to find Tobirama was interrupted by someone wanting to talk, and before I knew it, two hours had passed and I hadn't seen him. What if he wasn't here? Impossible! Will had told me he would be! I took a glass of champagne I wasn't going to drink because then I would be truly wasted, stood at a wall to catch my breath; despite the permille in my blood stream the small talk had still tired me out.

And then, I saw him.

He was so sparklingly visible, I was certain he must have just arrived because if he had been here all night, I would have noticed him.

He looked stunning, in tight, black suit pants and a crisp, white shirt that looked tailor-made. His hair was as ragged as ever, a stark contrast to his neat way of dressing himself.

And he was making out with a girl.

He had one hand on her curvaceous waist, the other in her hair, and she had her arms on his shoulders. He worked her tongue slightly outside of their mouths, as if they had cameras on them, even if they stood in the middle of the room, clearly visible in a situation where most people would aim for discretion. They did all sorts of things my brain didn't want to process because they were basically fucking with their clothes on.

I felt something in my throat then, a thickness of black tar that I couldn't breathe through, that poured its way against gravity into my nostrils and mouth. I held my hand over my mouth, fought against the tar but I couldn't; it was too thick. Tears were streaming down my face.

Stop... Tobirama, please stop... Red light... Red light!!

I turned and I ran. Out of the party, down the elevators. I didn't take a taxi; I wouldn't be able to sit still so I walked all the way home, head downcast, my mind too busy to be frightened about the catcalls screamed at me, my mind too busy for me to even notice, but not busy to think about what I had just witnessed, to think about his closed eyes and his tongue piercing and how his hand squeezed her soft waist and how pretty she was and-

Red light!!

I got home to our house, empty as my mother was at work. I walked to the shower, turned it on, stepped into it still fully dressed.

And then, along with the water, it washed over me.

Her femininity. His masculinity. The hunger between the two forces. Straight. Not interested in me.

I moaned, the sensation that caused the moan as sudden and unexpected as seeing them together in front of me had been. I unbuttoned my trousers or tried to; I was trembling so much it took me a full lifetime and a bit. I grabbed myself, started screaming as if I were in one of my films. Thinking about the two of them, the man I had developed feelings for without even noticing and the girl. Why would he stop? Why would he stop living his life the way he always had because of me? What the fuck had I expected, that he would adjust his life for me? I was a co-actor, fun because I was his first male one.

Drenched in my own salt, half from tears and half from something else that I wished had been brought forth by the big, white-haired man, I suddenly got desperate to get all of my clothes off, felt how my wet shirt clung to my skin, suffocated me. I started crying in panic, tried to peel it off but couldn't, so I ended up ripping it off my body with a strength I didn't even know I possessed and that scared me endlessly. I sunk down, curled up into a ball, let the panic of suffocation wash out of me as if it was a poison and I had opened wounds to let it drain out of my blood along with the blood itself.

Was he sleeping with her now? Was he making love to her? Was he asleep next to her? I thought about how tender he'd been last time him and I fucked.

I hoped she knew how lucky she was because I knew I had been.