Page 30 of Push My Buttons
"I guess I'm just into the quiet ones," I mutter to my reflection, running a hand through my hair.
The realization hits me with unexpected force. It's true. I'm drawn to silence. To the space between words. To the challenge of understanding someone who communicates differently. It's why I started learning sign language for Wren. Why I respect Silence's boundaries in the game. Why I'm so captivated by Vanta's wordless performances.
And now one of them is inviting me into her world.
Before I can overthink it any further, I type a simple response:
I would be honored to participate. Available any evening or weekend. Looking forward to bringing this fantasy to life with you.
I hit send before I can change my mind, watching the message disappear with a small animation. My heart is racing again, a mix of excitement and apprehension churning in my stomach.
Almost immediately, another message appears:
Thank you for accepting. The shoot will take place this Saturday at 8 PM at Behind the Lens. Address and security details to follow from our administrator. Please note the following requirements:
1. You will be required to wear a mask at all times to maintain privacy and anonymity for the entire photoshoot and cam session. 2. The cam session will be structured as an interactive game with points awarded for completing certain actions, with a special reward to be disclosed prior to the session. 3. Please list any hard limits in your responding form. Performer's hard limits include: no breathplay or choking, no blood play, no knife play, no degradation, no hard impact play.
We look forward to creating something memorable together.
A message comes through from another account labeled Behind the Lens, accompanied by a series of forms. The first form requests my contact information, emergency contact, and a section for "Hard Limits and Boundaries." Another form is an NDA, detailing confidentiality terms and conditions. There's also a guide to security procedures, outlining protocols for maintaining discretion and safety during the shoot.
This is really happening.
I methodically fill out each form, listing my own boundaries—nothing too restrictive, just basic respect and consent parameters. Signing the NDA, I acknowledge the importance of maintaining confidentiality. As I review the security guide, a strange sense of calm washes over me. This feels right somehow. Like I'm stepping through a door I've been standing in front of for too long.
I send the completed forms and receive an immediate confirmation:
Thank you for your submission. Final details will be sent 24 hours before the shoot. Please prepare to embody your gamingpersona. Masks will be provided, but you may bring your own if preferred. Discretion is paramount. Your compliance with security protocols is appreciated.
I lock my phone and lean against the sink, trying to process everything. In just a few days, I'll be face to face—or rather, mask to mask—with Vanta. Participating in some kind of video game fantasy photoshoot. It's surreal. Exciting. Slightly terrifying.
What if I disappoint her? What if the reality doesn't live up to whatever she's imagining? What if I freeze up or say something stupid?
I shake my head, dismissing the doubts. This is what I do professionally—create fantasies, sell experiences, understand what people want before they know they want it. I can handle a photoshoot, no matter how unconventional.
Besides, there's something thrilling about the anonymity of it all. The masks. The game structure. The chance to be someone else entirely for a night.
I splash water on my face and straighten my tie, composing myself before heading back to my desk. As I walk through the office, I catch sight of Jace hunched over his keyboard, brow furrowed in concentration as he debugs some complex piece of code.
For a brief, wild moment, I consider telling him about the invitation. We share most things—work frustrations, gaming strategies, even our mutual fascination with the mysterious Silence. But this feels different. Private. Something I want to keep for myself, at least for now. Not to mention I just signed an NDA.
Back at my desk, I throw myself into the quarterly report with renewed energy. The numbers that bored me earlier now seem manageable, even interesting. Amazing what a little anticipation can do for productivity.
As I work, my mind keeps drifting to Saturday night. To masks and games and silent communication. To the strange convergence of fantasy and reality that's about to unfold.
Whatever happens, I know one thing for certain: I'm walking through that door. And I'm not looking back.
Chapter 11
Jace
Istareattheforms on my screen, the black text stark against the white background. I’m so used to staring at my coding screens with their black backgrounds and white and blue text, it's jarring. My leg bounces under the desk, a steady rhythm that helps me focus as I read through the documents for the tenth time. The office around me has quieted—most of my colleagues left hours ago, but I barely noticed. Time always gets away from me when I'm focused.
ObsidianWolf. That's who I'll be on Saturday night. Not Jace Wilder, lead developer with social anxiety and a tendency to overthink everything. Just ObsidianWolf, meeting Vanta in person.
I still can't quite believe I said yes.
The message arrived late this morning—a private invitation from Vanta herself for an exclusive photoshoot and cam session. Video Game Fantasy themed. My specialty. My world.
