No Stopping Now

“Tell me more,” she said in the German accent that ebbed and flowed. While he explained the plan, he glanced over to see how much more time JJ needed. He was surprised to find her waiting for him, ready, and she’d gotten the frat boys primed, too.

She was fast, moving like smoke, subtle and smooth, never drawing attention to herself, almost invisible, efficient and effortless and always there. She’d even gotten Brian and Bob to pick up the pace. The lights and boom mic were ready, too.

She’d told him she often did her own lights and sound on documentaries because it lessened the intimidation factor. The fewer people and equipment, the more relaxed her subjects were.

He and Mistress Mona moved toward the frat-boy table and JJ signaled she was rolling tape.

Mona loomed over the boys, silencing them, and the kid in question blinked up at her. “I’m not really into all this,” he said, looking utterly enthralled. JJ had been right about him.

“Come on,” Brody coaxed. “We all need the occasional smack on the behind, don’t we, Mistress Mona?”

“You vill gif your mistress respect,” Mistress Mona snapped. “Take off zat ridiculous cap.”

The kid jerked the hat from his head, grinning, his face pink. Oh, he was into this, all right.

“Wipe zat smile off your face.” Mona whipped her crop onto the table so that it slapped his fingers.

The kid stared at his hand, then at Mona, utterly thrilled.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Brody patted him on the back and stood. “Enjoy. The cat-o’-nine-tails is intense.”

JJ backed up, keeping the camera on Brody as he left the table. She was waiting for his wrap-up. He liked that she’d picked up on their system.

“Whatever polishes your jewels, guys,” he said into the lens, walking slowly enough that JJ and Bob could keep their equipment steady. “You like rubber hoods or get off on wearing pink panties under your Dockers? As long as no one gets hurt—well, sent to the hospital—go for it.”

He needed something else…a final comment.

JJ pointed him toward a student practicing her riding crop moves on a guy’s backside.

“My turn?” Brody said to the girl, then turned and bent over. She smacked him lightly.

“Oooh, the Doctor is in,” he said with a wink, holding his pose until JJ took the camera away from her eye.

“You got what you needed?” he asked her.

“I did. Yes.” Her voice was low and throaty. There was that spark again, flying between them, unexpectedly strong. She felt it, too, he could tell, but backed away fast. He couldn’t figure out if she was scared of it or irritated by the distraction. Interesting…

“We’ve got to move,” Eve said, bustling up, her messenger bag tugging her shoulder down. It amazed him how much junk she hauled around—energy drinks, files, notebooks, forms, batteries, cosmetics, even a flashlight and, for some reason, latex gloves. “They’re waiting for us at the condom factory.”

“I’d like to look over the footage before we go,” JJ said.

“You’ll have to check it in the van,” Eve said. “We don’t have time for a reshoot anyway.”

Why was Eve so bristly with JJ? She was always a steamroller, but she was particularly pushy with JJ. Had Eve picked up on the attraction? Maybe she missed Kirk. The two of them bickered like an old married couple and they talked daily.

At the van, JJ let him help her into the seat, then set up the computer and external drive for a playback, quick and efficient, resting the laptop on both their knees. He liked the slide of her thigh against his own.

Eve sat up front where she could more comfortably boss the driver. Eve made him grin. She had the tenacity of a terrier, a great eye for detail and was utterly competent. Sometimes over the top, but that was part of the package.

He was determined his crew would make a soft landing when he left the show. He’d take care of them all—Eve and Kirk; Brian and Bob; the assistant producers who helped Eve from time to time; Chloe, his editor.

Maybe Doctor Nite would get a new host. His network had done that with that car mechanic show. Talk shows did it all the time. Maybe they’d hardly notice he was gone.

“Brody?”

He drew his attention back to JJ, who nodded at the screen. “Does this B-roll work, do you think?” Never wasting a minute, she’d grabbed charming background shots of bondage students in class while he talked to the instructor. Kirk needed to step it up. He’d been dialing it in as much as Brody had begun to do.

“I’m thinking we could cut this piece—” she shuttled the video further “—and shift to here. Do you agree?”

She sat so close he could smell the strawberry scent of her clear lip gloss. JJ wore little makeup. She didn’t need it, as far as he could see.

“Uh, yes,” he finally said, realizing she was waiting for his reply. “Looks good.”

“I don’t want to push you into shots you don’t want, so tell me to back off when I’m out of line.”

“I’m always up for a better idea. You didn’t mind the multiple takes?”

“Not at all. I want to do this right. Like I said.”

“Yeah.” He paused, lost in her steady, green eyes. “Like you said.”

“So, am I giving you what you need?”

Not yet, but I have some ideas…. He cleared his throat. “You’re doing great.”

“Except that extra interview threw us off,” Eve said, evidently listening in. “We have to keep on schedule or the shoot spirals out of control, JJ.”

“You’re so tough, Eve. Mistress Mona could take lessons,” Brody said, trying to tease away his producer’s edginess.

“What’s the deal with Eve and me?” JJ muttered very low.

“Later,” he said softly, then raised his tone to a conversational level. “So now on to condoms, right? I’ll ask the guy about what’s new—materials, shapes, colors, textures—and find out what’s popular these days.”

“Here’s an idea,” JJ said. “What if we also interview women about the features? Cut back and forth from the factory guy describing the item to the users’ take on the feature.”

“That’s pretty arty for Doctor Nite.” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “But we want to stay fresh, right, Eve?” He leaned forward to involve her in the conversation.

“We’d need samples from the factory. And what women would we use?” Eve asked, then answered her own question, clearly intrigued by the challenge. “Privilege has tons of models. It could work. I just wish you’d think of these things earlier.”

“Come on. You know you love to perform last-minute miracles, Eve.” She’d do anything to make the show better. He winked at JJ, who shot him a thumbs-up.

He liked that. It felt like the old days, when the nutty chaos and crazy energy of location shoots had energized rather than exhausted him. It was all due to JJ—her skill, ideas and liveliness. At the moment, despite how distracting she was, he was glad he’d hired her.

BY THE TIME they pulled into the driveway of the Xanadu at close to midnight, JJ was physically and emotionally wiped out. Physically, her shoulders throbbed from all the handheld work and schlepping her heavy tripod—it had better fluid heads for panning.

Emotionally, she’d been on a roller coaster. Bondage School had been surreal, but she’d maintained her professionalism. The condom factory had been fascinating. Then they’d hit the bars and started on the typical Doctor Nite segments, which had bothered her. She’d shot women pretending to be turned on as they unrolled condoms onto bananas from the bartender’s daiquiri supply or onto Brody’s fingers, while Brody made suggestive remarks. All night, women rubbed against him. Two of them flashed boobs at him, nearby men howling like jackals.

Jillian gritted her teeth the whole time. It was her job to go along with the exploitive, offensive aspects of the show. Hell, she was making the show better. She couldn’t help herself.