When camera operator Lisa turns up to her latest movie set, the last thing she expects to find is her current crush, Iris, in the leading role. With a strict no-dating policy among the cast and crew, the two women find themselves fighting their impulses, their desire culminating in one unforgettable encounter.
Fuck. I was already late. Why did this always happen on the first day of shooting? No matter how hard I tried and how carefully I timed my sleep, I always ended up rushing to make it to the first day on a new set.
At least I had an excuse this time, albeit one the director might not care for very much. I had spent last night on a crucial second date and it had run late. It was the first time I had successfully made it past date one in the last six months. Dating was one of the few areas of my life where I usually seemed to excel, but for some reason in the last year or so, I just couldn’t muster up the energy or enthusiasm for it anymore. I had pretty much convinced myself I had been through all the eligible women in town, mentally committing myself to a life in some theoretical convent that didn’t have a problem with gay chicks. (Did those exist? Maybe I could find one of my own. That would get my mind off my dating conundrum).
But then, Iris had happened.
I was only a couple of dates in, but even just thinking about her made me grin to myself. We had bumped into one another at one of the local bro bars that populated my neighborhood; I hadn’t even gone out with the intention of picking anyone up, but she had seemed to sniff me out from the other side of the room. We were partners in gay-crime, invading the straightest of places. I had written her off as straight as soon as I had walked into the place and done my usual scan for hot chicks, so I was doubly taken by surprise when she actually came over and stuck her hand under my nose.
“I’m Iris.”
I turned to face her, slipping my hand into hers. Her grip was firm and her eyes were playful.
“Lisa.”
“Good to meet you, Lisa. Can I get you a beer?” She raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at me, and I cocked my head to the side. I wasn’t used to girls hitting on me straightforwardly; apparently I exuded a vibe that said either “straight” or “taken,” pretty much twenty four seven.
“Sure,” I agreed. Why the hell not? It felt weirdly old-fashioned for a cute girl to buy me a drink in a bar, but maybe that had been my problem all this time. It couldn't be worse than scrolling listlessly through Tinder and wondering if the impossibly hot lesbian who lived only a few miles from my door was actually a dude in disguise, with plans to send me pictures of his dick as soon as I revealed that I was a woman. It had happened before. For a lesbian, I certainly had a fair collection of dick pictures.
I watched Iris as she leaned across the bar to catch the attention of the bartender. She brushed a curtain of tawny blonde hair over her shoulder, hitching up the strap on her tank top as she did so. My eyes drifted down to her shoulders; toned, muscular, and strong, just like the rest of her body—what I could see of it, at least. Her eyes were giant, deep, and round, pools of blue resting in the middle of her delicate face. She was about as femme as they come, and I had to resist the temptation to run my fingers through her soft hair.
