Chapter 1 -- Diana
I should have known this was a terrible idea.
The producer stares at me in horror. I am so horrified, and I don't have to look to my co-star to realize he too is horrified on my behalf.
"Princess, I'm sorry. I...I shouldn't have said that." The producer fumbles over himself. But it doesn't matter. The damage is done.
I don't wait for anyone. I slide off the bed and I yank the hotwife outfit that was the costume for today from the floor, and naked I weave through the crew. Gasps follow me. I know most of them just pity me more than anything, and the rest are probably upset I am messing with their pay checks. But fuck them all.
I had one rule for coming back, just one. No one mention my dead husband.
People are so fucking insensitive I swear. I slam the door to the booked adjoining bathroom. I slip on the costume, not caring it's a skirt so short, if I even bend slightly my ass will show. But I don't remember where my actual clothes are and I am not in the mood to talk to any of these people.
All of them probably will just come with their fake apologies and I am not about that. You'd think people are more sensitive after I lost Larry. Especially since this was my first scene since our last one a year ago and his death three days later.
I look at myself in the mirror after I slide the top that spills all my cleavage out. I have always hated set makeup and costumes. It's supposed to make you look slutty, but its thicker today. But my makeup is always thick.
I reflect on the days me and Larry started when it was just me and him and our camera in our bedroom trying to spice things up and explore our exhibitionism safely. Before the followers, before the money and before the crews. When it was just him and me enjoying each other.
I think this was the big sign I was looking for: It is time.
The knock disturbs me but I summon them inside. I pick up a makeup wipe and I start dismounting my face of the layers. My co-star -- a man me and Larry have worked with a few times and a good acquaintance -- peeps in. I give him a small -- though forced -- smile. I am not about to pretend all that was fine. And I know he was with me.
The 'daddy' stuff was only for my husband or when he was there. It was just too hard now that he wasn't there and they all knew that. But I can't blame the producers foolishness on him.
"You okay, mia amore?" he asks in his gentler voice and that Italian accent that never fails to register in my nethers. But I don't return the softness, especially knowing the decision I have taken.
"I am fine, Jay." I respond as I continue focusing on removing the mud on my face.
"We can reschedule. I won't put pressure on you. I know how hard this is for you." He says carefully like he is trying to gauge my full mood.
I stop and I turn to him. "Maybe it was for a reason. I don't think this is the business for me anymore, Jay. I am done."
The displeasure only lasts a second on his features before they fall in understanding. I want to hate that he feels 'bad' for me. The poor widow. I turn away from him in that instant. With my makeup almost finished. I keep my hair down.
"Are you going to tell everyone?" he asks after a beat.
I halt. I hadn't really thought of everyone. Everyone in the production company. If I wasn't doing this anymore then all of them will have to find alternative employment. The past year I had kept them on standby, paying them a portion of their wages to ensure they'd be there when I was ready to come back. It had been what my husband wanted. He wanted me to continue but I wasn't sure that was a promise I could keep any longer.
"I can't face all those people. Help me." I face him. I needed to get out of here and I didn't want to deal with all their disappointment. Especially not the producer. He would never stop with the apologies and the sob stories and I just didn't have the time and patience for all that right now.
"Of course." Jay responds.
It was a dick move, but I had to go. He comes closer and gives me a tight hug. Because I don't want to remember all the sadness, I lean into lust: my lust for this man. I would really miss him and his stamina and giant cock.
He pulls away and kisses me on the mouth, a peck. I smile back.
"Okay, don't be a stranger and let me know if you need anything. Anything. I don't want to lose you as a friend, mia amore." He said his face shining with his sincerity.
I cradled his cheek with my hand. "I'm glad you offered. I will reach out. Maybe we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"
He smiles and leaned in and kisses my cheek this time. "I will lay by the phone."
I take my bag, finally ready to dip. Luckily there is no one in this room. He must have had it cleared to talk to me and I am glad. I slip out, finding a few crew members outside talking. I avoid their eyes and I walk. I take the stairs and I run down.
My phone buzzes as I am almost at the foyer. The producer. I decline the call and switch off my phone. I luckily find a cab waiting outside the hotel and I slide in. I ask for my apartment and I head home. I can't help but be reaffirmed that I made the right decision. That was no longer for me. I really need to take a step back and re-evaluate.
Maybe I could find a new hobby. Me and Larry have accumulated quite the nest egg. In the low eight figures to be exact. When our adult content channel blew up seven years ago, we hadn't known how much money we really stepped into. One of our first videos garnered twenty five million view in two months and the thirty thousand dollar check we got coupled with the first twenty thousand subscribers launched us into an actual business.
People loved the amateur content; just us in our home. Though our faces were obstructed, we still made a lot. We could have made a lot more but we had extended families to consider and we just wanted a normal life. A year later, we started showing our faces. But we did my makeup in such a way that I didn't look like daily me at all. Thick layers and contour did the trick and most weren't the wiser.
What worked for us was that even though Larry's face was hidden, people didn't really care about male adult actors that much. The woman was the star and boy was I. After three years just me and him, we started adding others in the sets.
I enjoyed other women and men and so did my husband. We explored our kinks in a way that was natural for us and we never forced things. We had a lot of fun me and him. We were true partners. I never felt less or disrespected. I always felt adored and cared for.
Our plan was to have children after 35. We froze our fertilized eggs for then and we had our whole lives ahead of us. well, until a year ago.
November 8th, a day I will always hate. Larry just woke up with a headache. We went to the doctor who said it was nothing. But on our way back home it got worse and I drove him to the hospital. By 11pm, he was gone. No one could explain anything to me.
I am pulled from that train of thought that still leaves me a sobbing disaster - even though the first few months all I did was cry - by the cab stopping in our high rise. I step out after thanking the cabbie and paying.
I have cried less and less since and it hurts less and less. Celebrating his life and remembering him in joy taking a bigger space now. I am happy to have met my angel on earth and I wouldn't change anything. He gave me a lifetime of happy memories and I am fucking grateful.
I ignore the looks from the other residences of this building. The men stare at my cleavage as so does the women. I don't diminish as I strut to the private lift. I scan my hand for my floor and it takes me to our place. It may not be the penthouse, but fifth from the top floor was still pretty darn good.
Which makes me remember when we were still in our two-bedroom apartment that Larry's grandparents gifted us with after we got married at 18. Everyone had thought we rushed into everything because we were high school sweethearts but we were made for one another.
We matched each other at every level. Our relationship was supported by his grandparents though. I guess they understood because they too were high school sweethearts and they had the love story of the ages.
