Anything But A Sex Scene

Dakota walked fast at first, putting distance between herself and the restaurant like she could outrun the last hour. Her legs still felt unsteady, and the cool night air did little to clear the wine from her head. She could still feel Lauren’s fingers on her thigh, the ghost of that last touch lingering against her now-damp panties.

She slowed down after a couple of blocks, forcing herself to breathe deeper. Focus. She had work to do. She had lines to read. Callie was probably waiting.

As long as it wasn’t a sex scene tonight, she’d be fine.

She could get through this. She’d read plenty of heated lines with Callie already. She could do it again. As long as it was just some normal scene — an argument, a conversation, anything that didn’t require her to sound like she was falling apart — she could pull it together.

Please, she thought, half a prayer and half a plea. Just don’t let it be a sex scene.

By the time she reached the building, she was annoyed with herself. She tried to push away the thought of how easily Lauren had gotten under her skin and under her dress. One dinner and a few touches, and she was walking into work flushed and distracted, carrying the evidence of it between her legs.

Dakota shook her head once, like she could physically dislodge the thought, and pushed through the front door. She headed straight for the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. By the time she reached the second floor, she was already veering toward the ladies’ room.

She pushed the door open with her shoulder.

“Any ninjas in here? Callie?”

Her voice echoed slightly off the tile. No answer.

The coast was clear.

Dakota stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind her. She crossed to the sink, turned on the cold tap, and cupped her hands under the stream. The water was bracing against her skin. She splashed it over her face once, then again, letting it run down her neck. When she straightened up, she caught her own reflection in the mirror.

Her cheeks were still a little flushed. Her eyes looked brighter than usual, and her mouth was slightly swollen from how hard she’d been biting her lip earlier. She looked like someone who had been thoroughly kissed and then tried to pretend otherwise.

She stared at herself for a second longer than she meant to.

Get it together.

Dakota grabbed a paper towel, patted her face dry, and took one more steadying breath. Then she tossed the towel in the bin and headed for the booth.

Dakota pushed open the heavy studio door and stepped inside the booth. The familiar smell of warm electronics and faint coffee hit her immediately.

Callie was already at the small table, tablet in front of her, headphones resting around her neck. She looked up when Dakota entered.

For a second, her expression changed. Surprise, then something slower and more amused as her eyes moved over Dakota’s face — the flush still high on her cheeks, the slight swell of her mouth, the way she was holding herself like she was trying very hard to seem normal.

Dakota noticed her noticing, and it made her feel naked.

Callie was wearing a fitted black pencil skirt with a high slit up one thigh and a crisp, pale blue blouse tucked in at the waist. She looked sharp. Professional. A little dangerous.

“What?” Dakota asked, a little defensive.

Callie shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Nice dress.”

Dakota rolled her eyes and did a small, mocking turn on the spot. “Oh, you like it? Even without the lace?”

Callie’s smile widened just a fraction.

Dakota glanced at her outfit again and added, “You look really nice too. Like a banker. Or a really hot librarian.”

Callie quirked one of her perfectly manicured brows at that, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was fighting a smile.

Before either of them could say anything else, Mike’s voice came over the talkback speaker from the control room behind the glass.

“Glad you could make it,” he said. “Alright, let’s get started. Tonight’s scene’s a spicy one. We’re picking up right after the scholastic competition in another state. They’re staying at a hotel. Jane has called Mary to her room to discuss her performance. It’s pretty steamy. Let me know if you guys want me to leave you to it so you can work without me hovering back here?”

Dakota’s stomach dropped.

Of course it was a sex scene.

She glanced at Callie, who just raised an eyebrow like she was leaving the decision up to her.

Fuck my life.

Dakota cleared her throat. “Yeah. Actually… that would be great. Thank you.”

“Cool,” Mike said through the speaker. “I’ll give you two the room. Recording now. Go ahead and start whenever you’re ready.”

They heard the faint click of the talkback turning off, followed by the sound of Mike gathering his things and leaving the control room.

Dakota sat down across from Callie at the small table, adjusted her headphones, and tried to shake off the feeling that the air in the booth had already changed. She pulled the script up on her tablet and took a steadying breath.

They started recording.

Callie spoke first. Her voice came through the headphones low, stern, and precise.

“I should spank you after that performance today. I have half a mind to take you over my knee right now.”

Dakota looked down at her script. The next line had a note beside it: with a sob. She took a quiet breath, called it up, let the hitch settle in her throat, and delivered it.

“Please,” she said, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just tell me what I need to do to make this right.”

“Then take your pants down.”

She swallowed and kept reading, her own voice already thinner than she wanted it to be.

When it was her turn, she had to make the sounds — small, breathy, involuntary.

“Ow—ow. Please! You’re hurting me!”

Callie didn’t miss a beat. Her voice stayed low and even.

“If it doesn’t hurt, you won't learn.”

They kept going. Callie’s delivery stayed sharp and controlled, every line landing with clear intention. Dakota could feel the heat creeping back up the back of her neck. She shifted on the stool, crossing her legs tightly, then uncrossing them a moment later. The dampness between her thighs was impossible to ignore.

Her own lines started coming out breathier. Halting. She stumbled over words she normally read cleanly. Her thighs pressed together under the table. She shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make everything worse.

Callie kept reading, voice steady and precise, but she was watching Dakota the whole time. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just quietly bemused, like she could see exactly what was happening and was content to let it play out.

Then Callie delivered the next line, low and even.

“Tell me you want to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again. Say it!”

Dakota opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

The line sat there between them, simple and brutal. For a second, all she could think about was Lauren. About how badly she still wanted to go back. About how she couldn’t say it and mean it.

Her voice came out small. Rough.

“No,” she said quietly. “I can’t. I’d be lying.”

The silence that followed felt like the world on her shoulders..

Dakota blinked hard, trying to pull herself back into the scene, but her chest felt tight. She shifted again, thighs pressing together, and realized her hands were shaking slightly against the edge of the table.

Callie pulled her headphones off.

Dakota didn’t look at her right away. She just sat there, staring at the tablet, trying to get her breathing under control.

Callie studied her for a moment.

“Do you need a moment?” she asked quietly. “You look like you need a moment.”

Dakota hesitated, then nodded.

Callie stood up, walked to the booth door, and pulled it open.

“Mike?” she called out into the hallway. “I think we’re going to need an extended break here. And don’t bother listening back to what we had — I can promise you it’s unusable.”

Mike’s voice came from somewhere down the hall a few seconds later. “Alright, take a break. Let me know when you’re ready to start again.”

“Appreciate it,” Callie said, then let the door swing shut.

She turned and looked at Dakota across the table, one eyebrow slightly raised, the corner of her mouth still carrying the ghost of that almost-smile.

Dakota stared back, heart hammering for an entirely different reason now.

She shifted on the stool again, then cleared her throat.

“I think I need to use the bathroom.”

Dakota’s head was still buzzing from the wine, and she was unsteady on her feet. She’d bought the panty liner from the machine on the wall and was trying to get it lined up properly in her underwear while her coordination was shot. The panties were bunched around her knees and she was hunched over, muttering under her breath as she tried to make the damn thing stick where it was supposed to.

“Oh my god. Did you pee yourself?”

Dakota sighed. A long, defeated sigh.

“The ninja strikes again,” she muttered.

She straightened up as much as she could with her underwear around her knees and tried to gather what was left of her dignity.

“No,” she said. “Of course not.”

She went back to wrestling with the panty liner, refusing to look at Callie.

“If you must know,” she continued, voice tight, “against my will and my better judgment, I’m horny and leaking all over the place. I suppose when you get horny, your panties stay dry. Must be real comfortable for your boyfriend.”

Callie didn’t take the bait. She just tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking over Dakota’s current situation.

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” she said mildly, “what with all of…” She made a small, vague gesture toward Dakota’s exposed lower half. “That.”

Dakota glanced down at herself, then back up at Callie.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Well,” Callie said, “it’s pretty obvious.”

She paused, then asked, almost casually, “So what’s his name?”

Dakota gave up on the panty liner. She stared at the crumpled liner for a second before letting it fall to the floor.

“No dicks in this chick,” she said. “Her name is Lauren.”

The name landed between them like a dropped glass. Dakota felt it immediately — the way saying it out loud in front of Callie made everything feel suddenly more exposed than it already was.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shoved them the rest of the way off, stepping out of them one leg at a time. When she tried to kick them off her ankle, her balance went and she pitched sideways.

Callie moved fast.

One arm slid firmly around Dakota’s waist while the other caught her elbow, and for a suspended second Dakota felt like she was being dipped in a dance — her back arching slightly, weight supported, the world tilting at an angle that made her stomach swoop. She could smell Callie’s perfume, something clean and expensive, and feel the surprising strength in her arms. Their faces were suddenly very close. Dakota’s bare thigh brushed against the slit in Callie’s skirt.

Callie held her there for a beat longer than necessary, steady and sure, before slowly bringing her upright again.

“Thanks,” Dakota muttered, voice slightly hoarse. She bent down, grabbed the discarded panties, and chucked them into the open trash can like they’d personally betrayed her. “Hold that thought.”

She turned and made it three steps before her stomach decided it had had enough. She lurched into the nearest stall, dropped to her knees, and threw up.

Callie followed without hesitation. She gathered Dakota’s hair back from her face with both hands and held it while Dakota retched, her other hand resting lightly between Dakota’s shoulder blades.

She didn’t say anything. She just stayed there, steady and quiet, until the heaving finally stopped.

Dakota flushed the toilet and stayed on her knees for a moment, forehead resting against her forearm. Her mouth tasted foul and her head was pounding. She felt hollowed out in more ways than one.

Callie’s hand appeared in her peripheral vision, steady and patient. Dakota took it and let herself be pulled to her feet. Callie guided her over to the sinks without a word. Dakota turned on the tap, cupped her hand under the cold water, swished, and spat. She did it twice more before she felt even remotely human again.

She grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at her mouth, then finally looked at Callie in the mirror.

“Thanks for the whole…” She gestured vaguely at her own head.

“You’re welcome,” Callie said simply.

Dakota turned off the tap and leaned back against the sink, suddenly very aware of how wrecked she must look. Her dress was rumpled, her hair was a mess, and she was barefoot in a public bathroom after having just thrown up her ex-girlfriend’s expensive dinner.

Callie studied her for a second, then tilted her head.

“So,” she said, voice mild. “Tell me about Lauren. Would Jane be jealous?”

Dakota let out a tired, involuntary laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you have an unreasonable obsession with my ass,” Callie replied without missing a beat. She leaned one hip against the counter. “I have half a mind to send this Lauren a strongly worded message for returning you in this condition. Look at the absolute state of you.”

Dakota grabbed another paper towel and patted at the front of her dress where she’d splashed water on herself. “I suppose you’ve never been hungover.”

“I’m dry, remember?” Callie said. “Anyway, please ask Lauren to be more respectful of our business hours next time she decides to make such thorough use of you.”

Dakota snorted, then immediately winced when it made her head throb. “Yeah… that’s not going to be a problem.”

Callie’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Dakota stared down at the damp paper towel in her hands. She could feel Callie watching her. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. The words sat in her mouth, heavy and uncertain.

“She’s my ex,” she said finally. “And she’s going to stay that way. I don’t know what the hell came over me tonight, but I’m pretty sure I just threw it up.”

It sounded convincing when she said it out loud.

Callie was quiet for a beat, then reached out and rested a hand on Dakota’s shoulder. Her touch was warm and steady.

“Her loss,” she said quietly.

Dakota swallowed and nodded, but didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Thanks,” she muttered. She hesitated, then added, “And I’m sorry I called you a librarian.”

Callie’s mouth curved. “A hot librarian.”

Dakota’s head snapped up. “Did I really say that?”

Callie nodded, looking far too pleased with herself. “Mhmm. Out loud. We can listen to the playback if you’d like.”

Dakota groaned and covered her face with one hand. “Just take the compliment.”

“Compliment accepted.”

Silence settled between them. Dakota could feel how close they were standing. The bathroom felt smaller than it had a minute ago. She focused on the sound of the water dripping from the faucet rather than the warmth of Callie’s hand still resting on her shoulder.

After a long minute, Callie spoke again, her voice low and perfectly deadpan.

“Pussy, pussy, pussy.”

Dakota made a strangled noise and nearly slid down the sink.

✦    ✦    ✦

They went back into the booth after Dakota cleaned herself up. Mike was already waiting behind the glass. He gave them a short nod and spoke over the talkback.

“Alright. We’re picking it up from the top. Same scene. I’ll give you the room like you asked. When you’re done, just let me know and I’ll be in the hallway.”

He clicked off. A moment later, they heard the control room door close.

Dakota settled her headphones and looked across the table at Callie. Callie met her eyes briefly, then glanced down at her tablet.

They started.

Callie spoke first. Her voice came through low, stern, and precise.

“I should spank you after that performance today. I have half a mind to take you over my knee right now.”

“Please,” Dakota read, voice shaking with the required sob. Her voice was soft, appropriately submissive for the scene, but steady. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just tell me what I need to do to make this right!”

Lauren’s hand on her knee under the table. The slow, possessive way her fingers had rested there while she kept talking like nothing was happening.

“Take your pants down,” Callie read.

Dakota pushed the image down and kept going.

When the script called for it, she made the small whimpers convincingly.

“Ow. Ow. Please! You’re hurting me.”

“If it doesn’t hurt,” Callie read, “you won’t learn.”

Dakota responded immediately.

“Yes, professor.”

They moved through the page. Callie’s delivery stayed sharp and controlled. Dakota matched her. She hit her lines without losing her place.

Better.

They reached the section where Jane grew more demanding. Callie’s voice stayed even, almost cold.

“Look at you,” she said. “Your pussy’s so wet it’s practically dripping.”

Lauren’s fingers brushing against her panties under the table. The slow, deliberate drag of her nail against the fabric.

Dakota responded immediately, her voice soft and strained in the way the scene required.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “You make me this way.”

She stayed in it. No giggling. No breaking. She delivered the line and kept going.

They worked through the rest of the page. Dakota remained steady for the most part, but her mind kept drifting.

The lonely, silent drive home in the back of a stranger’s car.

They reached the final section of the scene. Callie’s voice dropped lower, colder.

“Tell me you want to leave,” she said. “Tell me you never want to see me again. Say it.”

Lauren, “I’ll drive you.”

Dakota delivered the response cleanly this time. No hesitation. No crack in her voice.

“No,” she said quietly. “I can’t. I’d be lying.”

Jess and Taylor curled up together on the couch. The low sound of the TV. The way they fit so easily into the same space. And then her own room. The same four walls. The same empty bed.

They finished the take.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dakota took her headphones off and set them on the table. She could feel a low thrum of irritation under her skin — not at Callie, but at the way her own thoughts kept pulling her out of the work.

She glanced across the table.

“Wow,” she said dryly. “Position of authority and an age gap wider than the Grand Canyon. Jane should be fired, if not arrested.”

Callie didn’t even look up from her tablet at first. She just let out a small, amused breath.

“Oh, this again?” she said. “It’s fantasy. It’s fiction. Can’t you suspend your disbelief for a little while? The danger of being caught is what makes it so thrilling.”

Dakota gave her a flat look, but there was no real heat behind it. Callie sounded exactly like Michaela.

Fangirl.

“You did well tonight,” Callie said, her tone shifting slightly. “Cleaner than the first run.”

Dakota shrugged, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Callie studied her for a second longer, then nodded once.

“Go home. Sober up. Take plenty of ibuprofen and drink a lot of water before bed,” she said. “See you tomorrow?”

A mini-fridge. A water stain on the ceiling. And her, in bed, alone.

“Yeah,” said Dakota, swinging her bag over her arm. “See you tomorrow.”

✦    ✦    ✦

Outside, the night air was cool. Dakota stopped on the sidewalk and pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over the rideshare app. The thought of getting into a car and sitting in silence while someone drove her home made her stomach turn. She didn’t want to walk into that apartment. She didn’t want to see Jess and Taylor curled up together on the couch again. She didn’t want to go to her room and close the door behind her.

For a second, she thought about turning around. Going back inside. Finding Callie before she left. Asking if she maybe wanted to grab a drink somewhere. Just… not be alone yet. The thought flickered and died almost as quickly as it came. She wasn’t going to do that. She barely knew her.

She heard voices down the way, near the back of the building where the parking lot was. She glanced over.

Callie was standing near a car with someone — the same guy Dakota had seen hanging around the studio before. They were close, and even from this distance Dakota could tell the conversation was heated. Callie’s posture was rigid, one hand gesturing sharply as she spoke. The guy said something back, his voice rising. Dakota couldn’t make out most of the words, but she caught the tone clearly enough.

“—fuck off.”

Callie’s response was sharp and cold.

Dakota watched for another second, something in her chest settling into place.

Only lovers fight like that.

She turned back around, opened her texts instead, and stared at Lauren’s name at the top of the screen.

Her thumb hovered.

Then she typed.

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it.

The reply came back almost immediately.