While looking at the menu for the Indian restaurant that Demi had brought you to, you could feel her hard gaze on you. It wasn't making you uncomfortable, which was odd because you normally hated when people held a lingering stare on you. She hadn't even opened her menu, setting it to the side and watching all of your movements closely. “I have no idea what to have” you announced, having never been to this particular restaurant before.
“I'll order for you. Trust me, you'll like it.” The words started coming out of her mouth even before you were done talking, and it made seemed as though she had been anticipating you not knowing what to order. You smiled and nodded, suddenly this seemed very awkward. You racked your mind for possible conversation topics, but apparently Demi already had one.
“What made you do your first film?” You blushed, checking the surrounding tables to make sure no one was listening in. It had been several years and hundreds of films, so you actually had to think a little before you could remember the reason. “Honestly? I was in college and my parents had stopped giving me money, and there was this guy in one of my classes who had a cousin that did some filming out of his apartment. I told myself I would only do it several times, but you know how it goes.” You said it with a small laugh, not really knowing how to explain the rest of it.
“No, I don't. Tell me.” Her tone was borderline demanding, and she still hadn't looked away from you once. You really had to think about this. Why hadn't you stopped? Your parents had eventually started giving you money again, so there had been no reason to keep doing it. So why did you? Demi wasn't rushing you to answer her, so you had ample time to think.
You had done about five home films when your parents agreed to prove you with funds again, and you had thought that you would stop. Not only were you scared that other students would find out, but you were absolutely terrified that somehow your family would find out.
“I guess I just enjoyed it more than I thought I would. My parents did eventually find out, but I don't really talk to them anymore. What about you?” She shrugged, but instead of answering she just kept the focus on you. “So you have issues with your parents?” Her tone almost made it seem like she was concerned, as if she was genuinely worried about your relationship with them.
“I wouldn't say that. They'll call every now and then, but I never pick up the phone.” It wasn't something that bothered you, which is why you didn't call it an issue. You didn't miss them, that's for sure. You enjoyed your life, you didn't need them secretly judging you. Even if they didn't say anything to your face you were positive that they didn't approve of your lifestyle choices.
Her next question was somewhat obtrusive, catching you off guard. “Are you vanilla off camera too?” You choked, but thankfully a waitress came to take your orders before you could answer. As promised, Demi ordered for you. It struck you as a little odd that she ordered differently from what she would be having, but you decided not to think anything of it.
In case you hadn't heard her the first time, she started to repeat the question but you cut her off quickly. “Actually, I don't really have sex off camera that much.” It surprised you how honest you had been, especially since you barely knew Demi. She wasn't thrown off at all by your bluntness, and for the first time she finally broke eye contact with you. You thought she was looking down at the table, but as you followed her line of sight you saw that she was looking at your wrists.
There were very obvious red marks from the leather strips and how tight she had tied them. You had meant to try and disguise them, but had forgotten after Demi invited you to dinner. Her expression was hard to read, making it impossible for you to figure out what she was thinking. You wished you had worn something with sleeves, wondering how many people had already seen.
Several minutes of just looking and thinking went by until Demi asked another question. “If you did, what would it be like?” What was this, an interview? Why did she care so much? Regardless, you still gave her an answer. “Probably just whatever what my partner liked doing.” It was the best you could come up with at the moment.
The waitress came by again with the food, putting your plate in front of you with a warning. “Be careful, it's very spicy.” Demi laughed at your expression but didn't say anything about it. “Why did you order me something spicy?” you whined. She provided you with no reply, just smirking and starting to eat her food. The only thing she did was nudge her glass over water closer to your side of the table. You huffed, deciding to eat the meal anyway.
It was actually really good, despite the burning of your tongue. You picked up the glass that Demi had offered you, and while you were drinking your eyes fell to the many rings she had on her fingers. You were looking at all of them when a small tattoo on her middle finger caught your attention. It looked like a deviation of the yin-yang symbol, but as you squinted your eyes to get a better look you realized it was so much more than that.
It was done in plain black ink, but you recognized the symbol right away. The only time you had ever seen it was online when you had been doing research for your scene with Demi. But now you were seeing it in real life, tattooed permanently on her skin: the BDSM emblem. She noticed you staring, laughing at the shocked look you no doubt had on your face. “What, did you think I was only acting?”
