One Take Only

by Lynsey M. Stewart

“Porn directors have to come up with new things to keep fresh and notorious,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Although, I agree with you. I can’t say it’s really my thing.”

  “What’s your thing?” I asked, swiveling around, my legs dangling over the side of the pew.

  “Well, she’s the wrong sex for a start,” he snorted. “But the one of the left has a beautiful cock.” I laughed as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. “Now tell me, why the porn interest?”

  “I volunteer at the LGBTQ+ sexual health clinic.”

  “Oh, the one on Morley Street?”

  I nodded. “We’re thinking of doing some kind of input on porn and the unrealistic expectations it gives young people.”

  “Sounds great,” he replied. “I attended a support group there when I first came out.”

  “Really? My brother did too.”

  “Oh my God, really?” he said, clutching his chest. “They helped me so much.”

  “I’m really pleased you got help.” I stopped myself from telling Elliott’s story and focused on him. “Do you mind me asking if you watched porn when you were exploring your sexuality?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied. “Who doesn’t? It’s easy to find what you’re interested in online.”

  “Did it give you unrealistic expectations of sex?”

  “Darling, I’m gay, we could be here all night talking about that.” He tipped his head and thought through the original question before answering, “I think porn did give me unrealistic expectations. In the early days when I was experimenting, I would have done anything to please a guy I was into. Low self-esteem and confusion tend to do that.”

  “Even things you didn’t really feel sexually?” I asked, completely fascinated.

  “I’m ashamed and angry at myself to admit it now, but yeah.”

  “That’s so interesting.”

  “Sad,” he replied softly. “It’s sad.”

  “You’ve learned from it though?”

  “Of course. Life experience gives you clarity doesn’t it? My partner and I experiment sexually but if either of us said we weren’t into whatever we were doing we’d stop and move on.”

  “Do you think porn contributes to liberal attitudes to safe sex?” I asked.

  “Oh, wow. These questions keep coming,” he replied, wiping his forehead. “I don’t know. Possibly.” He switched off both TV’s by firing the remote at it like a game of Russian Roulette. “What do you think?”

  “Well, thinking about it from my point of view,” I replied. “I wasn’t sheltered when it came to sex. I was dancing in gay clubs when I was seventeen. I saw a lot I shouldn’t have, but when I think about me at that age now, if I’d have watched that woman drinking a bowl of cum? I’d have been terrified that was something I might have been expected to do as part of a sexual relationship.” He nodded in agreement. “Isn’t that terrible? That young people see that and be totally put off sex?”

  “I see your point.”

  “Or even worse. Does porn encourage someone to be forceful and ignore consent?” I went over to the shelves full of Blu-ray cases and looked at the image stills on the back. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe something that would have taken my interest, a film I thought would turn me on. I was no stranger to watching porn, had enjoyed it both on my own and in past relationships, but I didn’t feel turned on by any of these films. I just felt troubled by the bar set and the expectations the younger generation would feel if they were influenced by them.

  The door opened as I finished looking around at the shelves. A guy walked in, looked mid-fifties I would say, took one look at me, turned a bright shade of red and promptly walked out again.

  “Wrong door?” I shrugged before smiling.

  The guy in the stilettos laughed and added, “Yeah, he was totally looking for the sex robots.”

  3

  Will

  “I need to talk to you about something. An idea I’ve had,” Skye said and every alarm bell in my body started to ring. It usually did when she uttered those words because it led to situations that ended badly, or at least a hangover and some regret. She jumped off the counter, her lilac Doc Martin’s thumping to the floor as she grabbed some condoms from the drawer. “On second thought. Forget it. I need more time to think it through.” Ah, there was the whirlwind in her. She found it hard to make a decision and stick to it. I thought this caution had developed after life had kicked her a few times, leaving her unable to navigate risk, but now I wondered if it was inbuilt. DNA to keep her on track, hold her back a bit for her own safety.

  “Does your idea involve Tequila or Sambuca?”

  “Nope and nope,” she replied, giving me an eye roll. I liked to think she kept that roll for me, but after five years of friendship I knew it was a default setting. “Newsflash, not all ideas involve alcohol.”

  “Yours normally do.” She flashed a look at me and I loved it. All bark and no bite.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,’ she replied. “Last time you came to a club I remember you asking a lesbian couple if they needed condoms.”

  “That was a genuine mistake!” I protested. “It was dark, the lights in the club were flashing in my eyes.”

  “They weren’t impressed.”

  “They offered to show me their dicks,” I replied. “That didn’t help.”

  “They were taking the piss out of you!”

  “You don’t need to worry tonight; I have my glasses.” I pointed to my face and found her staring a little, her tongue darting out as she licked the corner of her mouth. “It’s magic. You put these things on, and ta-da! You can see.”

  She started busying herself grabbing leaflets and samples of lube.

  “Stick with me tonight and don’t start making conversations with people.” She looked up and tipped her head. “That tends to go wrong for you.”

  “I’m deeply hurt by that statement.” Cue another amazing eye roll. Bingo. She always played into my silent demands.

  “Stop talking,” she replied, holding up her hand. A deep sigh fell from her gorgeous mouth. “Grab some lube and let’s go.”

  “I’ve longed to hear you say that,” I said, laughing as I saw the twitch of her lips. “All my life. Honestly.”

  “Arsehole.”

  I followed her out of the clinic, amazed at the sway of her hips and the curve of her bum. She came in a small package, but everything about it was refined, perfectly proportioned and pretty damn sweet. I forced myself to look elsewhere, away from the line of her stocking that was just visible underneath the mountain of ruffles of the skirt she was wearing. It looked like a tutu had exploded and left a mess. The stockings were hard to stop staring at but when I looked up she was wearing what could only be described as my wet dream from Monday night. A corset. Black. Clinging. The mound of her breast peeking out from underneath her leather biker jacket. Jesus. Yeah, eyes would need to stay around the safe zones. Shoulder. Knee. Nope. No safe zones available.

  Fuck.

  “So, tonight, we’re going to a youth night at a gay club in town. Ends at midnight so you’ll still get plenty of beauty sleep and God knows you need it.’ I hoicked up the box I was carrying and trailed behind her. This was familiar territory for us. Skye called and I followed. From the moment we met she stirred something amazing in me. Magical and unfathomable. I wanted to be my best self around her, for her, for only her. Truth be told, she scared me when we first met. Stacey introduced me to her as the funniest guy I know. You’re going to love him. She stared at me like I’d just told her I had a deep-rooted family connection to Jack The Ripper. She was all harsh scowls and piercings, unless she was with her brother and she showed her heart was wider than the ocean and just as deep.

  “I’ve made you a BLT sandwich and there’s a piece of strawberry tart to keep you going.”

  “You mean bribe me.”

  “Nope, just making it worth your while to be here.” She winked and I was gone. She could have dressed me as a condom a
nd I wouldn’t have cared. “Are you with me?” she asked, breaking me from my daydream where Skye wanted more from me, from us and could see past the nerdy glasses and awkward social cues.

  “Always with you,” I uttered as she shook her head.

  “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, catching up with her. She was carrying two boxes, one stacked on top of the other, and had barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, I was huffing and puffing and ready to nip into the local bar for a refreshing pint.

  “You don’t have to come, Will,” she said. “I understand you probably have a million other things to do on a Friday night.” I didn’t like to say that I had nothing else to do because all I wanted to do was spend time with her, so I just ummed a bit and added a shrug. The truth was, I couldn’t do enough for her. Volunteering had become a way of life. If it wasn’t handing out condoms and lube it was litter picking on Brighton beach or finding myself doing a shift at the café. I was considering qualifying as a dog groomer just to be trapped in the van with her. I couldn’t do enough for Skye. I needed her. Even if all she gave me were eye rolls and snark. I loved those eye rolls and snark, loved her sharp tongue and hard exterior. But I knew she was lace behind leather. Bach inside a rock-and-roll front.

  “You know there is nowhere else I’d rather be on a Friday night than handing out lube to teenagers, because that won’t be awkward at all.” I fell into our default position. Banter. Deadpan comments. It made it easier to accept she’d never be mine if we role-played barely tolerating each other.

  She turned to me, her huge skirt twirling with her. “We’re spreading the word, not just handing out lube. Safe sex. Being careful. Not taking risks. That’s important, Will.” Ah, she was lovely. Fighting for a cause. Keeping her brother’s memory alive. Nostrils flaring and ready to go. “Come on.”

  I couldn’t pinpoint the time when I fell in love with Skye. It may have been from the moment we met and she asked me if I was trying to get into Stacey’s pants. Before I could answer no she followed up by threatening me with castration if I messed her around. The words, “I know your game,” were uttered menacingly under her breath but through a smile. I’d never seen anything like it. For the first year our friendship could only be described as a work in progress. She enjoyed winding me up and I enjoyed retaliating. Stace wasn’t the first woman I’d had a platonic relationship with. Girls at school found me funny and cute. I built on this, realising that a good sense of humour was a way into the magical world of sexual experiences. To be honest, I was thankful when a woman showed me any sort of sexual interest. When I eventually lost my virginity, I thanked my girlfriend mid-orgasm.

  Skye wasn’t my usual type and the more time our friendship developed, it quickly dawned on me that I wasn’t hers either. She once dated a bodybuilder who had a tattoo of Satan wrestling a python down one arm. She also favoured punks and bikers and once introduced me to a boyfriend affectionately known as Knuckles. So, when I started to develop feelings for her, I tried to dismiss them, knowing she wouldn’t be interested in a journalist working for a photography magazine who collected superhero comics and had an obsession with Star Wars.

  I would try to avoid a cliché, but fuck my life seemed appropriate for this situation.

  “Right, we’re here,” she said, stopping outside a nightclub with bright pink doors. “Don’t act weird, OK?”

  “That’s going to be quite a stretch for me,” I replied.

  “I know. Just don’t scare the teenagers.” She turned her back to the door and pushed it open with her splendid bum. “Follow me.”

  As soon as we entered the building, music pulsed through my ears and I was thankful when we were taken to a small room at the back of the club. This would give the crowd opportunity to come and talk to Skye if they needed safe sex advice without shouting over the music.

  Skye started setting up the condoms and leaflets as my phone started to vibrate against my chest.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Just checking if you’ll be home tonight?” Gavin, my flatmate asked.

  “No, mate. I’ll be in Brighton this weekend.” Gavin and I shared a flat in London. We were colleagues who knew each other in university and due to the high prices of accommodation it seemed a good fit to share the rent.

  “I should have guessed. What is it this time? Cinema with Skye? Or perhaps a spot of dinner…with Skye?”

  “Nope. Tonight, I’m handing out condoms.”

  “Jesus.” He laughed.

  “Anyway, what’s that supposed to bloody mean?”

  “Nothing! You just spend all your free time there and Skye happens to feature a lot.”

  A guy came into the room, he looked completely overwhelmed and blew out a breath when he saw Skye smiling and welcoming him over to her. “I’ve got to go, mate. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

  “Got it. Oh…are you coming to the meeting about that promotion? They’re going through some general info and clarifying the application process.”

  I hadn’t realised Gavin was interested in applying for the senior journalist position. I’d had my eye on it for some time. It meant more money and more creative freedom. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Cue barely tolerable silence. “I didn’t know you were interested.”

  “Thinking about it,” Gavin replied. This could be awkward. Skye shot me a look that told me to cut the call before she twisted my balls into her fist.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” The line went dead.

  Skye was deep in conversation with the guy who had come in earlier and now had a few of his friends joining him. They all looked in their late teens and I was immediately reminded of Skye’s brother, Elliott.

  “I’m not going to patronise you,” Skye said. “You know what these are for and how to use them. I’m just offering you a reminder to wrap it up.” She pointed to his groin and the group started to laugh. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen,” he replied as his mates nodded. Skye had a look on her face that showed she knew what they were up to and were on to them. It was obvious they had all had an alcoholic drink.

  “You know it’s illegal to drink,” Skye said.

  “Yeah. I get it,” he replied, withdrawing. “I come here to unwind along with hundreds of other underage people. Are you going to tell give them all the same lecture?”

  She shook her head and put her hand on his arm. “I looked after my brother until he was around your age. It’s easy to fall into the nagging sister role.” She looked down before gathering strength through a deep breath. “He used to come to this club until he…passed.”

  “Sorry,” the guy replied. “What happened to him?”

  “Overdose,” she replied, her voice shaky, but only in a way that I would notice. “He struggled with… everything, really. His sexuality mainly.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered. The crowd of guys gathered around and choruses of sorry led to Skye biting her lip.

  She was so fucking brave.

  We were together when we found him, lying on the bed, peaceful. The only sign something was wrong was the blood trailing from his nose. I’ll never forget the sound she made. A high-pitched howl. Sobs. Cries of “no”. Complete and utter devastation. She was mine from that moment, in my head and heart at least. More than friendship. A desire to heal, to protect. To wrap her up and tuck her inside me, even if she fought against it. An instinct kicked in; nothing would hurt her again. I’d protect her from what was to come because she’d already experienced the worse. I was there for her when she cried, arranged the funeral when the burden became too heavy for her to handle. I held her up as we walked behind the coffin, me on one side and Stacey on the other. I sat at the graveside with her, read the notes on the flowers, found her drunk and alone when she lost her way. In those raw moments I almost told my feelings, but as she finally fell asleep, my hand stroking her hair and wiping her tears away I played it out in my head, ordered the words, rehearsed it until I watc
hed our friendship blow up around me. A slow-motion action scene where we were both blown to pieces. A fiery wreckage in the background. Nope, couldn’t tell her. Skye was in my life in the truest form, telling her how I felt could lead to her walking away. How could a friendship come back from that? The destruction of a one-sided love affair?

  She caught my eye and I smiled, boosting her on to tell her story.

  So fucking brave.

  “That’s why I do this. My brother left me a letter. He was still trying to come to terms with his sexuality, but he’d had unprotected sex for the first time a few weeks before and he was convinced he’d contracted HIV. He didn’t have the knowledge or support to help him through, to answer his questions, and he became fixated. I can’t let that happen again.” She handed the guys some leaflets about the support services the clinic provided and talked through the groups that she had been instrumental in developing since Elliott’s death. “You don’t need to struggle. Support is out there, if it’s about safe sex or accepting your sexuality, there is help.”

  “I think you’re amazing to do this,” one of them said.

  “Can I bring my mum to a group? She’s having a hard time accepting I’m gay,” said another.

  “Yeah, of course. I did that with my brother too,” Skye said, handing him a leaflet. “This is the supporter’s group. We’re constantly looking at adding to it and looking at different types of research.” She stopped and looked around before grabbing a notebook from one of the boxes. “Do you guys have a few minutes to answer some questions?” They all agreed, and her smile returned. “We’re at the really early stages of looking at how porn influences younger people. Good or bad.” There was a lot of laughter and innuendos. Skye handled it like the champ she is. A great mix of joining in and trying to steer them into more serious conversation. “When did you start watching porn? Were you really young or are you just discovering it?”

  “Young,” they all laughed.

  “Listen, I know that many of you are watching porn to get your rocks off. That’s fine. I do too.” Oh holy fuck. I shook an image of Skye’s hand sliding to her– “But do you think that’s the reality of sex? Did it excite you or scare you?”