Chapter 64 – Behind the Lens

They ordered from an Asian restaurant that Daz found on a delivery app, and while they waited, Chloe threw one of the fluffy bathrobes from the bathroom on and sat down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. Daz sat across from her with his laptop between them, scrolling through the footage he’d recorded so far.

While they waited for the food, she complained to him about her supposed woes over completely made-up dating stories, and Daz proved to be a sympathetic listener, it was a pleasant and easygoing conversation.

The food arrived twenty minutes later, brought by a delivery driver who glanced past Daz at Chloe in her bathrobe.

They unpacked the Styrofoam containers on the kitchen island and ate with disposable chopsticks straight from the boxes, sitting side by side on the bar stools.

Daz ate quickly and messily. A few noodles landed on his hoodie, which didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

When she was full, Chloe leaned back, pushed the half-empty box away from her, and asked casually, “Hey, Daz, you’ve been in the industry for quite a while now. Is dating always this difficult when you work in porn?”

Daz chewed on his noodles and seemed to pause for a moment.

“Yes and no,” he said. “Well, most people outside the industry have a problem with it when they find out what you do. Not necessarily with the camera work, I mean…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “…you say ‘I film porn,’ and then it’s still porn, and very few people can handle that. It’s worse for you performers, I guess. But if you’re dating someone who’s in the industry themselves, at least they understand the work. Though dating within the industry has its own set of problems, of course.”

He took a sip from his water bottle. “I was actually with a performer for quite a while myself.”

There it is.

Chloe raised her eyebrows, just enough to signal interest. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Daz cleared his throat. “But I was… honestly, I wasn’t a good boyfriend back then. I was jealous, intensely jealous, to be exact.” He gave a short laugh, a dry laugh with a hint of genuine regret in it. “I mean, that’s obviously the dumbest thing you can do when you’re with a woman whose job it is to have sex on camera. Jealousy and need of control and all that ‘Why did you look like you were enjoying it during that shoot?’ stuff.” He shook his head. “I messed up pretty badly.”

I can see exactly what you’re doing here.

He was good, damn good even, and it would have been almost perfect if it weren’t for that barely perceptible smoothness with which he strung the sentences together.

He’s practiced. It’s not the first time he’s told this story to a performer.

But beneath the routine, there was still something genuine, in the way his gaze drifted into the void for a moment. There was pain, old, worn-out pain maybe, but it gave his performance the necessary credibility.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said quietly. “Jealousy is a bitch.”

“It really is.” His crooked smile returned. “But you learn from it, I guess.”

I’m going to tease more out of you later.

Chloe smiled sympathetically, and he smiled back, and then he was done.

Daz stood up, stretched, and walked over to the camera, where he checked the battery and turned the lights back on.

“All right, then.” He tapped the Steadicam lightly. “Ready for round two?”

“Sure,” said Chloe, letting the bathrobe slip from her shoulders.

They shot the remaining three toy scenes over the next two hours. The Pixie Flick on the bed, the Lush Lick in the bathtub to show that the toys were waterproof, and the Vibe Queen back on the couch, and with each scene, it became increasingly normal for him to stand between her legs with a camera and just be around while she masturbated.

Crazy. I’m getting paid to masturbate all day. With a sponsorship deal and all.

Once the last take was in the can, Chloe lay on the designer couch, pleasantly exhausted and slightly overstimulated, staring at the apartment’s ceiling while her thighs still trembled a little.

“I could really use a drink right now,” Chloe sighed.

“Oh yeah, me too,” said Daz behind her, camera bag slung over his shoulder. “There’s a bar around the corner that’s actually pretty decent. If you’d like, we can grab a beer there. To a successful day of shooting.”

He said it in a laid-back way, without any pressure, as if he honestly didn’t care whether she said yes or no. Even though she was pretty sure he did care.

And of course she’d say yes.

Outside of the professional setting, with alcohol involved and the whole day as a warm-up, these were exactly the right circumstances to ask him questions.

“Sounds great,” Chloe said and started getting dressed. Daz turned around politely.

Chloe laughed. “Don’t act so coy, you’ve already seen it all in 4K.”

“I just wanted to be polite.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.” She packed up the toys and tossed them into the rolling suitcase.

“Is it far? Otherwise, I’ll leave the suitcase here.”

“No, really, it’s not that far!”

The bar was actually only a few hundred feet away on a side street off downtown Valley City and looked pretty run-down from the outside, but inside it was dark and pleasantly cool. The light came mainly from the neon signs above the bar, and the tables were made of solid wood, though they were already quite worn down. A jukebox in the corner was quietly playing “Free Fallin'” by Tom Petty.

After the sterile RoamBnB apartment, it felt like another planet. And Daz clearly belonged here. The bartender, a woman in her mid-fifties with short gray hair and tattooed forearms, nodded at Daz as he walked in.

“Hey, Daz.”

“Hey, Jackie. Two pale ales, please.”

He led Chloe to a table against the back wall, far enough from the jukebox to talk.

The beers arrived quickly, and Jackie eyed Chloe for a moment before casting a skeptical glance at Daz. “Really, Daz? Is she even old enough?”

“Fucking hell, Jackie, we work together, of course she’s old enough!”

“I meant old enough to drink.”

“No, that’s not what you meant, Jackie. As if you give a fuck how old the young college boys are when they come to blow their money at your place.”

Jackie snorted loudly and then turned to Chloe. “No offense, sweetie. I’m just kidding.”

Chloe smiled stoically, her signature Chloe Heart smile, as Jackie set the beers down in front of them and walked away.

“Sorry about that!” Daz gave her an apologetic look.

Chloe waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Cheers!”

They both took a big sip before Daz made a sincere effort to get the conversation going.

Here, with a beer in her hand and the tension of the day’s shoot behind them, Chloe began to see what she had only suspected before. Daz had something. Of course, he didn’t have the kind of magnetic charisma and looks that Daniel Walker possessed, that guy simply had won the genetic lottery. Daz was different. His charm was more subtle, but with a dry joke here, a disarmingly self-deprecating comment there, and a certain lightness that didn’t take itself too seriously, he more than made up for what he lacked in sheer good looks.

And if she was honest, he seemed significantly smarter than Daniel. Or at least more cunning. She was slowly beginning to understand what Samantha might have seen in him.

They exchanged the usual industry stories, and Daz had a few good ones up his sleeve, most of which were at his own expense.

After the second beer, which Jackie placed on her table without a word, Chloe seized her chance.

“Hey, Daz.” She wiggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated way. “Earlier at lunch, you mentioned something about a performer you used to work with. If it’s not too personal, who was she? Maybe I know her.”

Daz glanced briefly at his beer, then back at her. A tiny hesitation, half a heartbeat, and then he smiled, and there seemed to be a hint of pride in his eyes.

“Samantha Sparkles.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “No way! Seriously?”

“Yeah.” His smile widened. “We were together for almost two years.”

“Oh my God!” Chloe leaned forward, both hands clasped around her glass. “Samantha Sparkles was basically the reason I got into the industry in the first place. I’ve seen so many of her scenes! She was basically my inspiration!”

Daz seemed visibly pleased. “Oh yeah, she was definitely one of the most authentic performers I’ve ever seen.”

“What was she like?” Chloe kept the Chloe Heart tone in her voice at just the right level of admiring and curious.

And Daz opened up to her with perfectly calibrated drama, seeming to know exactly which cards to play and in what order.

He talked about how smart Samantha was, and how funny. And how she had this unshakable stubbornness that could drive people up the wall, but at the same time was the reason they respected her.

“And she was charismatic in a way that’s hard to describe. When Sam walked into a room, you noticed her immediately and she took over the whole place and suddenly became the center of attention, but you just couldn’t hold it against her.”

He’s right. That’s exactly how Sam was.

Chloe felt her eyes stinging, but she pushed through it. Instead, she smiled and nodded admiringly, and Daz, taking her smile as an invitation, went on to talk about how amazing she’d been.

He never said it explicitly, but the implicit message underlying it all was crystal clear: And, you know, this woman chose me, hint hint.

And then, slowly and with a well-measured regret that felt far too calculated to be entirely spontaneous, he turned the story around.

“But I messed it up,” said Daz. “I was jealous, Chloe, like really, really jealous. Because I was so insecure, I know that now. And when you’re with a woman whose job involves having sex with lots of people on camera, that insecurity is like poison. It just eats everything away. We broke up, then got back together, broke up again, got back together. It was such a sick cycle, you know?” He shook his head. “And in the end, I lost her for good.”

He paused for just the right amount of time.

“She died a few years ago.”

Chloe lowered her gaze. “I’m so sorry, Daz.”

“Yeah.” His voice had grown quieter. “And I wish I could have been a better person for her. I’d give anything for a chance that I’m a better man now.”

He looked like he meant it. His eyes welled up, his lower lip trembled, and then he quickly took a big gulp of beer.

Wow, you’re good. Into how many of my colleagues’ pants have you worked yourself with this sob story?

Then, almost casually, as if it were just a natural continuation of his thoughts, he said:

“I often think that if I’d said something different, maybe it wouldn’t have turned out that way, you know, on the day she died-“

He trailed off.

Chloe’s heart was pounding against her ribs.

Keep talking!

Her fingers rested calmly around her glass, and her face gave nothing away.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

For a split second, Daz’s gaze drifted elsewhere, to a place he didn’t want to share with her. Then the crooked smile returned.

“Oh, you know…” He rubbed his face and sighed. “Sorry. It’s all just a bit much for me right now, and I shouldn’t spend the whole evening dwelling on the past.” He looked at her. “I’m in such good company and I’ve had such a good day with you today, and I’m ruining the mood here with my old stories. I’m sorry.”

Damn.

Part of her wanted to press him, but she knew that wasn’t the smart move.

Patience, Chloe.

“You don’t have to apologize, Daz. Really, you don’t.” She briefly placed her hand on his and then pulled it back, and a look of relief flashed across his face. “We can talk about something else.”

“Yeah, let’s… enough about me, let’s talk about you. So, of course, I watched a few of your scenes before the shoot, to prepare, so I know how I can best showcase you.” He grinned. “And I have to tell you, your EVA nominations are totally deserved. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“No, seriously, I’m not just saying that. Your Bound.com scene alone…” He whistled softly. “I’ve filmed hundreds of scenes, and I’ll tell you, that was something special. You’ve only been in the business for a few months, and you already have more natural presence in front of the camera than a lot of people I know who’ve been doing this for years.”

She let it slide. She smiled, thanked him, and asked him a question about his early days as a cameraman, which gave him a chance to shine a little more. The mood improved, at least on the surface.

At the end of the third beer Daz leaned forward and pulled out his phone.

“Let’s exchange numbers in case we need to sort something out during post-production.”

For post-production. Sure.

But of course she willingly exchanged numbers with him before they said goodbye. Daz obviously had a hidden agenda, but then again, so did she.