Page 13 of Filtration Play
Fucking none.
“Uh, really small.” Like, zero, because they hadn’t told anyone they were even pursuing anything with photography. “So, maybe we should wait on this.”
Hera shook her head. “I’ll invite people, help get the word out. But you’ll need to send me your socials, where your work is, etc.”
Mmm, add that to the ever-expanding to-do list.
“Do you have more than this?” Hera asked, skimming over the contents of the folder. “Some variety to offer folks?”
“Some, though I’ve got another series concept in mind.”
Which involved finding a bigger sub who’d consent to getting photographed. Not like they had a dearth of play partners, but only one person had struck their muse as of late. Which, again, wasn’t going to work.
“That sounds perfect.” Hera took a sip from her tea as she pored over a photo of Sloan on his knees. Fuck, he looked so perfect, highlighted by partial shadows. The color scheme of the photo had relied heavily on the golden late evening light pouring through the windows, the exact right shade to accentuate Sloan’s sun-kissed tan. Fin was obsessed with the interplay of light and shadow in the photo, how it drew out the way the ropes they’d bound Sloan in showcased the dips and curves of his muscles.
They glanced up and caught Micah staring over at their table. He was clearly trying to catch a peek at what lay on the table, and Fin stuck their tongue out at him.
“This is going to be so fun.” Hera flashed them a grin. “Just get me the information tonight, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
Fin’s skin prickled. All the information, aka, social media and ripping the Band-Aid off to put themselves out there. This was what they wanted—a chance for their kink photography to breathe, to be out in the world—but they hadn’t realized how flayed they’d feel in the process.
The door creaked open, and a familiar silver fox walked in.
“Greg!” Hera hopped up from her seat. “You mind if I go say hi?”
“Go for it, sweetness,” Fin said. They could take a moment to breathe. That was another reason why they’d never been completely compatible with Hera. She always chased the latest thrill, the next person to catch her eye.
Hera scampered off, and Greg slipped his arm around her back as they walked toward the counter.
Fin chewed on their lower lip, staring at the array of photos splayed out on the table, their insides in knots.
“Whatcha got there?” Meg approached.
Their boss also happened to be one of their closest and longest friends, and the mere sight of her struck Fin with relief. Today, Meg was in a bit of a dommier vibe, probably because she had clients later. Black leather pants, white tank top with a black bra underneath. Her black hair had product run through it, her side shave sharp and highlighted, and her dark eyes were inquisitive.
“I hit up Hera about these.” Fin slumped in the seat.
Meg’s grin widened, revealing some teeth. “Fucking finally.”
“Now I need to go douse my skin in bleach to scrub these uncomfortable feelings off,” they grumbled.
Meg let out a sharp laugh. “It’s about time you put yourself out there.” The knowing look in their eyes was not fucking appreciated.
“Excuse you. I bare myself plenty.”
“Anyone can get naked, Fin.” Meg plunked into Hera’s seat. “Not everyone can share something personal like this. I’m proud of you.”
A shiver ran down their spine, followed by their stomach churning. “Keep being all sweet, and I’ll vomit.”
They weren’t even kidding. They didn’t know why they were so broken that kindness made them uncomfortable, but it was so much easier snarking back, being a little shit. They could only accept affection with a bite.
“Gross,” Meg teased. “You’ll be cleaning it up, then.” She eyed Fin, scrutiny locked and loaded on them. “Why not host an exhibition here? You know I’d always open up the downstairs for a showing.”
Fin’s stomach flip-flopped. “I work here.”
They wanted to explain more, how it felt self-indulgent in their workplace, how they didn’t want to burn the sole bridges they had. How they never wanted Meg to feel taken advantage of. However, those words got stuck on their tongue. Not like their pause mattered because Meg’s small grin in response signaled she understood.
“Did Hera agree to host then?” Meg asked, a bit of judgment in her tone. She’d never been a huge fan of Hera, probably because the girl was a bit spoiled, and those types drove Meg nuts.
