acute.

The filming scenes ranged from 5 to 15 minutes at the very least, each long, grueling, and intense, filled with countless demands and meticulous details. This often led to James Cameron's infamous outbursts, his shouts and relentless demands for retakes turning the oppressive heat into an unbearable ordeal. Even when the actors managed to perform, the scenes were repeated endlessly under the necessary conditions.

Billy gradually adapted to his role—the artist whose only true possession is his life. No matter what he did, he would perform as though his life depended on it: loving, laughing, facing challenges, hating, forgiving. Jack became the ideal lover women dream of—the rugged outsider, replacing the stoic patience of the English gentleman. Now, every gesture was tender, like handling a delicate flower. With Rose, he found his muse, someone to cherish and adore.

-DAMN IT! You look like two sheep staring at each other! - Cameron barked, his expression sour as he glared at everyone. Someone whispered something in his ear. The clock struck 2 a.m., and exhaustion was etched into everyone's faces after such a prolonged effort.

-Alright, let's wrap it up. We'll pick this up at noon tomorrow. Cameron finally relented, feeling the weight of fatigue. The scenes Billy filmed with Kate weren't even part of the iconic three-hour cut of the movie.

-I think you did well today, - Kate whispered to him.

-You were brilliant, too, - he replied, glancing at Kate. She was so drained that she seemed lost, staring into the distance. Her head throbbed, and she knew she might fall asleep at any moment.

The ride to their accommodations was short. Night shoots were necessary since Titanic's story unfolded over three days, one of which was catastrophic. Late-night filming sessions were essential to make the most of the studio's schedule, even though it was the '90s and some effects could be achieved digitally. Most of the magic, however, relied on the imagination and sheer effort of the crew.

-It's a bit unfair to say you outshone me. It's easy to slip between moods, but you're making it seem like I haven't been doing my job at all, - Kate quipped with a long yawn.

-Goodnight, - Billy bid her farewell, heading to his assigned room. Before entering, he noticed a brunette sitting in a bathrobe, painting her nails. It was Monica, who had arrived a few hours earlier but hadn't expected the shoot to last so long. Billy was still dressed in Jack's wardrobe, covered by a large coat to shield him from the cold.

A long glance passed between them. Monica's dark, lush lashes framed her angular face; she was breathtaking in every possible way. Her love for bare simplicity was evident—she wore nothing but a towel on her head, her body completely nude, her nails painted black.

-You're back.-

-I didn't think you'd come today, - Billy remarked.

-Plans change for both of us, don't they? But now, I suppose we're both too tired to do much about it. That's fine, - Monica replied, her tone teasing as she casually revealed her body, her full breasts bare as she stretched. With just a tilt of her chin, she exuded the confidence of the most beautiful woman in the world.

-It's good to see you, - Billy said, leaning in to kiss her, but she stopped him, pointing toward the shower. She gave him a small, chaste kiss before letting him go.

The night was cold, the early hours of June 9th. Billy took a long, hot shower to ease his weariness, washing away the exhaustion while his mind wandered to the Titanic book he had been reading—already 500 pages in, with only four chapters left. He recorded each thought and note meticulously. It would be his fifth published book, a project he took seriously, filling in every gap with careful deliberation.

The TV hummed softly through the thin walls. With everything turned off, the moonlight illuminated their faces. Monica, wrapped in the glow, extended an invitation with her open arms, like welcoming a child into her embrace. She took him in, holding him close as their bodies pressed together.

-I like you a lot, Monica, - Billy murmured, kissing her lips. She nodded, returning the kiss. Their bodies moved together, a warm, tender unity.

Monica always relished the intimacy of touch, the melding of bodies until they became one. As they lay entwined, they shared quiet words about their day.

-I watched your movie." -

-And? -

-It's dramatic. The ending moved me—a man choosing death over the unbearable pain of knowing his beloved, his true wife, is gone. Oh, God, it encapsulates how love renders all commitments immaterial when two people are madly in love, - Monica said, her Italian accent soft but distinct after years of speaking the language fluently.

-Things always tend to sort themselves out,- Billy whispered, resting his face against Monica's chest. Her sweet scent enveloped him as they kissed again, more intensely this time. Their bodies were filled with desire, seeking fulfillment together. She welcomed him effortlessly, her arms tightening around him as he pulled her close. His strength, honed by years of physical effort, was evident as she felt the power growing within him.

She bit his chin, while she moaned in thin, whispers, both of them stretching out the pleasure, him galloping at a generous pace that was not fast, but it was enough to drive him crazy, and she half-closed her legs, squeezing his member, hard between her folds, as she always did. Encountering a situation like this led them to enjoy long minutes, it was stop and continue.

-Faster, - her voice broke, raspy, and uncontrolled.

Billy tried to maintain his pace, though he faltered. He had no choice but to continue his task for the woman beneath him, whose need was palpable, urgent. She gripped his back tightly as he matched her intensity, pressing into her with a force that met her yearning.

...