by Rosie Danan
“We could give advice and tips for partners to act out together and for women to try solo,” Josh added, feeling like the Robin to Clara’s Batman.
“Sounds quaint,” Naomi said. “But it won’t matter what you call it. Society sees naked women and immediately registers spank bank material.”
“But it’s got a completely different goal. We want to rewrite the narrative with a focus on establishing healthy intimacy and equal-opportunity orgasms,” Clara said as the lane next to them celebrated a particularly good spare with a loud round of hollering.
Naomi picked up her ball and, after a practiced windup, sent it flying down the lane, knocking over a neat nine pins before saying over her shoulder, “That’s a sweet vision. Delusional, and self-important, but sweet for certain.”
“I should have stayed home,” Clara whispered to Josh.
But he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “That’s why we need you, Stu. I know you look at the direction the industry is going and wish you could change it, dismantle the machine from within. How many times have you had to work with a man who made you feel gross?”
“Josh mentioned you’ve had some trouble with the producers and directors trying to get you to do things you don’t want to,” his roommate added, wringing her hands. “This is your chance to call the shots. To make what you want with whomever you want to hire. Complete creative freedom.”
“Come on, Stu. How many of us get an opportunity like this?”
Naomi narrowed her eyes. “Who’s funding this benevolent endeavor? I don’t suppose you recently came into an inheritance?”
“That would be me.” Clara raised her hand and then immediately tucked it under her thigh.
Naomi laughed. “Now that’s an unexpected twist. You’d be my creative partner? You’re full of surprises.”
“My involvement would be exclusively financial. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Naomi turned to Josh. “I’ll do it, but only if Connecticut here is involved in the development, casting, cutting, the whole process.”
Clara’s face drained of all color. “Why would you want me involved?”
“This is a huge risk. No matter what the two of you wanna tell yourselves. I’m treating this like a business decision. A serious one. If we only reach the people who are already watching porn, it’s too niche. You’re the target audience. The kind of woman who will watch this stuff, benefit from it, if we’re successful, right? I need you as a stand-in for what the average American woman wants to know and what’s a step too far. Plus, if you’ve got more skin in the game, you’re less likely to get cold feet and pull the funding.”
“I’m only comfortable with nudity in Renaissance artwork, and even then sometimes I get overheated.”
Naomi smiled a genuine smile, the one that changed almost her whole face. From ice to inferno. “That’s my final offer, Connecticut.”
Josh grabbed Clara’s elbow. “You don’t have to do this. It’s too much. You’ve already got a full-time job. We’ll find someone else.”
“There is no one else,” Clara said between her teeth. “Not like her.” She wiped her palms on her jeans and extended her hand for Naomi to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, but I’m warning you now I might need a fainting couch.”
chapter seventeen
CLARA HAD NEVER seen this many topless people outside the south of France. It had taken two weeks to register their new business, obtain a federal employer identification number, open a company bank account, and obtain all the necessary licenses and permits mandated by California law, but they were finally ready to start recruiting performers for their as yet untitled project.
Two more weeks of lying to her mother about spending “all her free time” visiting art museums and brushing up on her ancient Greek. Every time Lily wanted to Skype, Clara told her the Wi-Fi was spotty and Everett was working on getting it fixed. She would probably get a stomach ulcer from all the lying, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Josh, Clara, and Naomi had rented out a small studio space in Burbank to hold auditions. Of course, Naomi showed up looking way more chic than anyone had a right to. That’s the type of woman Josh goes for. All legs and hair and collarbones sharp enough to take out an eye.
Any and all thoughts of him ever touching Clara again needed to cease. She’d never carry herself like Naomi. Never ooze sex appeal or skewer a man with only a few words. Josh bedded bombshells, not bookworms.
He and Naomi had arranged the logistics of recruitment while Clara worked her day job for Jill. True to her word, she still reviewed everything. The unlikely trio had daily status calls at night.
Today they’d be seeing a mix of seasoned adult performers and a handful of students recruited from Naomi’s psychology program at Cal State. In addition to being insanely hot, Naomi was also a genius studying for her master’s in social psychology and family dynamics. Clara made sure everyone signed an ironclad nondisclosure agreement at the door.
They wanted to cast an array of backgrounds and body types, and they needed people who were comfortable in front of the camera as well as with the risk and who believed in the mission of the project.
Clara stood at the water fountain in the hallway, filling her reusable bottle, when Naomi sashayed out of the casting room. “So far so good, Connecticut, but today the real fun starts. You nervous?”
Clara thought about lying but decided that, like animals, Naomi could probably smell fear. “Yes.”
“That’s all right.” Naomi adjusted the straps of her tank top. “As long as your nerves don’t keep you from doing your job.”
“Remind me of my job again?”
“Barometer for average.”
“Right.” Clara’s eyes shot down the hall. “There are a lot more people here than I expected.”
“Hey.” Naomi’s voice relaxed from granite to shale. “You can do this.”
The vote of confidence was surprising but nice. Clara smiled. “Thanks.”
“But if you can’t, I’d rather figure it out now.”
Her smile died. “That was less reassuring.”
Naomi shrugged and walked away.
“Um . . . I think your bottle might be full,” a man’s voice said from behind Clara.
She turned to find a handsome stranger gesturing at her overflowing water bottle. He had a similar jawline to Josh’s, actually, though this man’s wasn’t quite as strong and lacked the golden stubble that Clara had come to appreciate on her roommate.
“Sorry.” She stepped out of his way.
“No trouble.” The man flashed a set of very white and very straight teeth at her. “You here for the auditions?”
“No. I mean, yes.” Clara pulled down the sleeves of her favorite blazer. “I’m part of the casting team. I’m not, like, a performer.”
“That makes sense. I’d remember a girl like you.” He extended his tan hand. “I’m Matt. Masterson. I know Josh and Naomi from filming Infinity Orgasm.”
“Oh.” She laughed nervously. “Gotcha.”
“Have you seen it?”
“No.” She took a careful step backward. “No, I’m afraid I’m a bit of a pornography novice.”
“Well, if you ever want any recommendations or . . .” He leaned toward her until she could smell the spearmint of his breath. “. . . a practical demonstration, I’d be happy to help you out.” He flashed his giant, shiny teeth at her again. This guy must floss like ten times a day.
Clara tried not to stutter. “That’s a very generous offer, Matt.”
“Put it away, Masterson.”
She hadn’t heard Josh come up behind her. “Oh. Hi.”
“Just being friendly, Darling.” Matt wasn’t as tall as Josh. He had to tilt his head slightly to look him in the eye.
“Direct your friendliness elsewhere. We’re running behind schedule.” Josh let his hand rest lightly on Clara’s back, a few inches below where her shoulder blades ended, and gently steered her toward the conference room. “We need to get going.” He used a much lighter tone with her than he had with Matt.
Clara leaned in to whisper to him as they walked. “What do you think of that guy? Should we cast him? He certainly seemed . . . hygienic.” The spicy scent of Josh’s soap washed over her and she inhaled superfluously.
Josh pulled out her chair and then his own. “I guess women like him,” he said in clipped syllables.
Clara stared down at her notebook. At the checklist she’d made last night in an effort to come up with an objective ranking system for potential performers. “You don’t think he was flirting with me, do you?”
“Of course he was flirting with you.” Josh had the tip of his pen in his mouth, leaving a faint impression of his teeth on the plastic.
Clara found herself smiling at her notebook. “Really? I think I might have liked it.” It was hard to tell. She didn’t have much practice receiving male attention.
“Matt’s not the guy for you, trust me.”
“Why not?”
“Because you should be with a doctor or a firefighter . . .” Josh sighed. “. . . or at the very least a kindergarten teacher.”
“Oh, I get it.” Her shoulders slumped.
Josh’s mouth turned down. “Get what?”
“I’m not . . . sexy enough.” Her stomach clenched. Matt had probably only turned on the charm because he thought she could help him get a part.
Josh dropped his pen. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know I wear too many cardigans. And I can’t, for the life of me, figure out how to use a curling iron.” She lowered her voice. “Even my nice bras are neutral colors.”
Josh closed his eyes and lowered his forehead into his hand. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s all right.” She swallowed down her discomfort. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. It’s been this way my whole life.” Everett never would have walked away from Naomi.
“Clara—” Josh placed his hand over where she’d started to anxiously twiddle her thumbs in her lap.
“Are you two ready?” Naomi took the final seat behind the card table and Josh bent to pick up his pen, taking his hand with him. “We’ve got a line down the hall.”
“Yeah. We’re good.” Clara folded herself in as small as possible. Legs, shoulders, neck. Josh’s opinion of her ability to heat a man’s blood didn’t surprise her as much as it confirmed her bleak self-assessment. She didn’t belong here among all the beautiful, sexually advanced people.
“Number one, please.” Naomi’s voice resounded with authority.
A full-figured brunette with a sleeve of tattoos and a nose ring came in. “Marissa Martinez,” she said.
“Hi, Marissa. Before we get started, you’ve signed the release forms, performer questionnaire, and nondisclosure?”
Clara was grateful that Naomi had taken the lead on this part of the process. She would talk to a thousand lawyers, notaries, and bankers if she didn’t have to figure out how you determined whether someone had what it took to perform in a sex ed resource.
“Yep.” Marissa handed over a stack of papers. “Here you go.”
Naomi scanned the forms. “I see here you’ve stated you’re comfortable with full nudity, sex acts solo or with one to three partners. Both male and female. Excellent.”
“And you read the documents about the risk from Black Hat?” Josh, especially, insisted they make sure that every person who might get involved went in with full knowledge of the gamble.
“I did. I’m not surprised, honestly. I’ve got friends who got on the wrong side of the studio before. They got blacklist threats and worse.”
Worse? Clara mouthed at Josh, her panic rising.
He winced before turning his attention back to the audition.
“I’m glad someone is standing up to those assholes.” Marissa unfolded a new piece of paper from the pocket of her shorts. “I really like the company manifesto you provided.”
Clara’s ears perked up. She’d written that part, her only contribution to this piece of the process. To help with recruiting like-minded individuals. It was a couple of paragraphs about the impetus for the idea, a vision for how the resource would help both women and their partners, and a company commitment to respecting everyone involved.
Naomi pushed a file across the table. “Clara, why don’t you read the audition requirements?”
Clara shifted in her seat. “Me?”
Josh gave her an encouraging nod.
“Uh . . . All right.” She picked up the sheet. “First, please remove your clothes.” Her stomach flipped over, but Marissa smiled, shoving off her shorts before Clara had finished the sentence. A blazer was the wrong choice for this occasion.
Once she was fully nude, Naomi and Josh both jotted some notes down. Clara wrote the word naked in cursive on her own pad so she wouldn’t look completely unprofessional.
“Ready to move on?” Naomi used a kinder voice with Marissa than she’d ever used with Clara or Josh. “We know this process can get awkward. As a reminder, you can stop at any time.”
Marissa chuckled. “I appreciate that, but I’ve done this a million times. Plus, my body rocks.”
“Is the room warm enough?” Josh had insisted they set the room to a balmy seventy-five degrees.
“Oh yeah. This is way better than the usual icebox casting calls.”
“We’ve been in your shoes. We’re trying to make the process as comfortable as possible. Clara, I think we can move on to the next part.”
“Of course, sure.” Her grip made the paper curl. “Please make yourself comfortable and . . .” Good lord.
Josh touched her forearm. “You okay?”
Clara forced the words out over the ringing in her ears. “. . . and bring yourself to orgasm. Lube has been provided. You’re welcome to use any kind of reading or viewing materials to help you get in the mood.”
“No problem.” Marissa reclined on the comfy chaise Naomi had brought in and covered with a clean sheet and proceeded to stimulate her breasts.
“Oh dear.” Clara automatically raised her eyes to the ceiling.
Naomi cleared her throat. “If you wouldn’t mind amplifying your reactions? We want to make sure everyone’s really comfortable with vocalizing their pleasure.”
Clara forced herself to make eye contact with the performer as Marissa gave a thumbs-up with the hand that hadn’t made its way between her thighs.
She’d never seen anything this explicit before in real life. Even though Marissa seemed like she was having fun, Clara couldn’t stop sweating.
“What do you think, Clara?” Naomi’s face didn’t look menacing, but Clara knew a test when she saw one. “Would you like Marissa to try any techniques in particular?”
“No, I think this is fine. Good, I mean.”
Naomi nodded. “Marissa, feel free to improvise with dirty talk if you’d like.”
The performer let out a string of sentences that made Clara’s face go from hot to scalding.
“Please excuse me a moment.” Clara pushed back from the table and rushed into the hallway, following the frantic direction of her feet until she could pull fresh air into her lungs.
She closed her eyes. Tried to picture Zen gardens or any of the meditation mantras from the forty-five-dollar yoga classes she’d taken in Manhattan. She couldn’t do this. The proof lay in her shaking hands. She’d been kidding herself. Kidding all of them.
“Clara?” Josh came barreling out the doors. “Are you all right?”
She urged her wobbly legs to a bench to the side of the building entrance. “I’m sorry. I thought I could
handle this. I thought I could be calm and cool and collected but I obviously can’t.”
Josh sat down next to her and brushed the hair off her sweaty neck as she worked to regulate her breathing. “No. I’m sorry.” His eyes traced her face and he ran his thumb up and down the side of her neck soothingly. “This is all my fault.”
His touch worked like a balm, calming Clara both physically and mentally. “What are you talking about? I asked you to make a website featuring naked people and then I got weak in the knees on day one.”
“There’s a big difference between theoretical nudity and the real thing. I knew that. You didn’t. I saw you blush the moment you realized we’d have to share a bathroom.”
She managed a weak smile at the memory.
“Now we’re trying to build this site and it’s a huge leap for you.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, fussing over her in a way that made her want to preen despite her humiliation. “No wonder the process is turning your face into a burnt tomato.”
Well, that’s an unflattering picture. “I should have prepared myself more. Should have, I don’t know, read a lot of National Geographic magazine.”
Josh’s eyes crinkled. He was trying not to laugh at her.
“Marissa wasn’t doing anything wrong or shameful in there.” Clara thrust her chin at the building. “I’m just still a prude.”
Josh steepled his hands. “That’s not such a bad thing, you know.”
Clara laughed, the bitter kind that hurt. “Sure.”
“I’m serious. It’s sweet and maybe even . . . sexy, actually.”
Clara scoffed. “Don’t pander to me. My lack of chill is not sexy. Marissa and Naomi, women who are confident in their bodies, are sexy. I’m a PG movie about a cartoon bunny.”
Josh stood up and took her hand in his, threading their fingers together and helping her to her feet. He used their combined grip to tilt her head until she was looking at him. “No. You’re really not. Do you know how many dirty thoughts I’ve had about your overalls?”