'Thanks for doing this, Sam,' Frank said, inclining his head towards Sam but never taking his eyes off the rain-wet road. 'I knew you'd help me out.'
'I need the money' Sameena replied, only telling half the truth. The other half was that she had been looking for another opportunity to get messy ever since her modelling debut. That kind of work didn't come up often, and, although it really did pay better than her day job as a cleaner, the truth was that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed getting messy and enjoyed getting messy with an audience, or risk of getting an audience, even more.
She had gotten some extremely odd looks on the bus, the evening Frank's text arrived in her inbox. Where Sam lived, much like anywhere else, keeping yourself to yourself was the number one rule of etiquette on public transport. So when she had cried out 'oh, yes!' on the bus home from work one drizzly November evening, she had quickly mumbled an apology to no-one in particular but had been unable to keep the smile from her face.
'Well, whatever, you're doing me and Henry a big favour. I didn't tell you in the text, but we did have someone else line up to begin with. But the bitch dropped out at the last minute and Henry had already paid for the studio time.'
Sam ignored the fact that she had been second choice - she was new to this, after all - and reassured him that it was fine. Obviously she didn't want to give away too much. Frank was a decent bloke most of the time, but when it came to business he learned everything he knew from Ebenezer Scrooge. If he found out that she enjoyed this kind of thing he would definitely try and reduce her fee somehow.
Besides, as much as she liked the idea of showing off, it wasn't a matter of flashing her tits to the likes of Frank. The 'might' in might get caught was where half the thrill came from. Ideally it would be by someone far better-looking than Frank if it did happen. Short, bald and in his late 50's, the polite way of describing how attractive he seemed to Sam was "not my type." On top of that, she would rather keep her kinks to herself, or, at least, to her and the odd stranger here and there who may have seen her. Internet perverts didn't count, of course. The smart ones would assume she did it for the money and wasn't interested in the lifestyle and, smart or dumb, she would never meet any of them anyway.
Working with Henry she got a trade-off. She knew she would be seen, obviously - she was here to be filmed, after all. The risk was all gone, but at least Henry was moderately attractive, so she would be flaunting herself in front of someone worth flaunting to. Anyway, he'd spent the entirety of their last shoot behind the camera. It was as if she'd been alone in front of a camera.
'Here we are,' Frank added, turning off the main road and into an unassuming industrial estate.
Sam, having been here before, knew there was more to it than met the eye, but not much more. Apart from the studio itself, the rest of the place was exactly as interesting as it looked - i.e. not remotely. The warehouses, all 20, were identical: half breeze block, half blue-painted metal, all eyesore.
Frank flashed some paperwork to a bored-looking security guard and waited for the barrier to open. He thanked the guard, drove inside, and parked outside warehouse six. 'Right,' he said. 'You got everything you need?'
'Bag's in the boot, but I came dressed. Which way to my trailer? Where do I go for make-up?'
'Very good,' Frank laughed warmly. 'But do you mean to tell me you've been in-costume this whole time and you didn't give old Frank a peep?' He turned in his seat, looking her up and down, noticing her stockinged legs for the first time. Sam barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and made a mental note to hold her coat tails tight as she clambered out of the car.
'Just make sure you're here for me at five, yeah?' Sam said. 'If I have to get a taxi you can expect a receipt in the post next week.'
'I've got a few bits and pieces to do, but I'll be here. Break a leg.'
Sam got out, got her bag from the boot, and buzzed the intercom beside the warehouse door. 'Henry, honey, I'm home.'
A buzz was the only reply, but the door opened a second later and Sam stepped inside. The interior was dingy, but someone had made an effort at decorating it for the season. If it is possible for inanimate objects to show personality, the tinsel dangling about the place was doing an excellent line in sarcasm. The 'Merry Christmas' sign above the door from this waiting room into the studio looked plain sad. At least there was no Wham to go with the upcoming WAM. It was the first time in two weeks that Sam had been in a public place without hearing Last Christmas or any of its ilk.
'Ah, Sam, wonderful,' Henry proclaimed from the door Sam had just been looking at. 'Right on time as always. Through here.'
Sam smiled welcomingly and followed him into the studio. Henry's camera, newer and flashier, was set up at the far side of the small, chilly room. Sheets covered the concrete floor, and off to one side was a table with a bed sheet over it. All familiar stuff at this point. Equally familiar, but less expected, was Lucy. She stood opposite the table, arms folded, grinning warmly at Sam. Sam stopped dead in her tracks, confused.
'This is Lucy,' Henry said. 'She'll be helping you out today.'
'Hi,' said Lucy, her grin getting wider by the second. 'You must be Sameena. I'm Lucy, the naughty elf.'
Lucy's blonde hair was fastened in pigtails, giving her more of a school reunion vibe than an elf at first glance. At second glance, though, Sam saw the elf costume, such as it was. It was cut from green felt, but it really only managed to be a dress on the technicality of being dress-shaped. To call it impractical would have laughably understated matters: not even Sam would have dared to wear something so short in public. Cleavage was barely covered, knickers weren't even as lucky as that, Sam noticed, as her eyes made their way down to the matching green-white holdup stockings.
'Frank didn't say anything about another woman, except that she cancelled,' Sam replied, ignoring her, but struggling to pull her eyes away.
'Oh, yeah, that was Tara. Don't worry, she's not coming. You're the star: Samta Clause. I've even decided to name the video after you.'
'I mean, what's Lucy doing here? I thought this was another solo gig, like last time.'
'Oh, it is,' Lucy cut-in. 'I'm not getting messy, don't worry, Sam.'
'Oh. Fine,' Sam deflated with something like relief. In truth, she had simply been caught off guard. Frank had a habit of not giving everyone all the details of his less savoury ventures. In other circumstances, Sam thought she might like the idea of getting messy with another woman, especially one like Lucy, but having it sprung on her out of nowhere was a different matter. Well, it would have been. Luckily, it just seemed to have been a misunderstanding on Sam's part. 'So you're here to do lighting, boom handling? Are you the key grip? I've always wondered what that is.'
Henry chuckled, but it was Lucy who answered. 'No, silly. I'm going to cover you in Christmas slime.'
'Eh?' Sam asked, dumbly. 'Lucy, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that.'
'Do you two know each other?' Henry asked, noticing that neither of them had looked at him since Sam's arrival and feeling a need to assert himself on the situation.
'We met at a work party last year,' Lucy answered.
