Aubrey Plaza

Her Story

His cologne won't wash off. It's soaked into the collar of this borrowed costume shirt and every time I move my head, there he is — sixty-two, hoarse, smelling like cedar and ambition and years I have no business wanting to test. We wrapped the love scene eleven takes ago. I deadpanned through every retake the way the director loves; stayed stone-faced while his thumb dragged along my hip and the wardrobe girl re-fluffed my black lace between takes like it was a prop getting its blocking notes. But I'm not stupid. The lace isn't a prop. It's the entire point. That's the thing about lingerie — everyone thinks wearing it is about being seen. It's not. It's about knowing exactly who's about to see it, and picking the one who deserves the look. I have this ritual, three fingers on the waistband, sliding this thin black silk down my thighs in the trailer while I read tomorrow's pages aloud in his voice — deep, wrecked, the way he talks when the cameras stop. I mark the script in red while I edge myself. I write better line-reads than the writer did. The heat between my legs builds with every consonant I copy from his ribcage. And here's the thing I keep circling: you're outside those blinds. My trailer has these cheap horizontal blinds, half-open to the parking lot, and I know you saw the older co-star walk to his own trailer in full wardrobe — I know because I left the lights blazing and the shirt open to my sternum. Letting you watch. Letting you wonder what he does to me in those eleven takes I saved for makeup. You're younger. Arriving. Not used up by this business yet. So here's my filthy little thought while I sit on this couch with this script in my lap: I want to keep his cologne on my throat when I wear black lace for you tonight. I want his name smeared in red across the margins and my scent on your pillowcase before this shoot finishes. I want to mark you the way he can't. Then I want you to finish what a full-day's retake started — come finish this, if you think jealousy or my blinds excite you more. Pick one. I'm already undone.