Chapter 12 — Behind the Scenes, Beneath the Sheets
Narrator: Fresh from "graduation," Noa and Reno are invited to a behind-the-scenes tour of a real adult film studio one of the biggest in the region.
Noa agrees, thinking it's just "for research." Turns out, the studio is a high-tech operation with military-level scheduling, camera rigs worth more than her apartment, and a prop warehouse labeled "Toys, Props & Misc. (Do Not Lick).
" They meet the producer, a sharp businesswoman named Lexa, who gives them a no-BS rundown of the real world of adult entertainment contracts, distribution, how scenes are edited, how thumbnails are tested, and even viewer data analytics. Reno almost signs a deal.
Noa almost throws up. And yet, the professionalism shocks her. It's not sleazy. It's strategic.
Noa had survived three days of porn school.
She had learned more about fake moans, legal waivers, and simulated passion than any civilian should.
She thought it was over.
Until Reno casually said, "We've been invited to see how the sausage is made."
Noa, mid-bite into a breakfast sausage, nearly choked. "Excuse me?!"
He waved his phone. "Studio tour. Big one. Real shoot. Real crew. Real business. It's like an internship, but for people who moisturize aggressively."
---
The studio looked like any other industrial building.
Gray. Anonymous. Mildly threatening.
Inside: chaos.
But the clean kind. Organized chaos.
A production assistant in a hoodie handed them lanyards.
"Welcome to BLUSH Studios," she said. "Don't touch anything that's buzzing."
Reno smiled. "No promises."
---
Lexa arrived like a queen in a pantsuit.
She had a clipboard, a Bluetooth headset, and the presence of someone who could fire you mid-sentence and still make you say thank you.
"You're the sketchbook couple," she said without looking up.
Noa blinked. "Um. I guess?"
"Follow me. Don't trip over cables. Don't look directly into the strobes. And don't open any unlabeled doors unless you want to see a man named Biscuit doing unspeakable yoga."
Reno leaned in. "I kind of want to see Biscuit."
---
Lexa walked them through the set.
It looked like a cozy apartment—soft lighting, pastel bedding, fake windows.
"It's called *relatable luxury,*" Lexa explained. "People want to fantasize, but also believe they could live here. No one wants to get turned on by IKEA."
Noa whispered, "IKEA *is* kind of sexy."
Reno nodded solemnly. "All that tight furniture…"
Lexa ignored them.
She pointed to the camera crew.
"Each operator here is certified. We do two angles minimum. Sound is monitored live. We shoot with continuity. We rehearse transitions."
"Like a play?" Noa asked.
"Like *war.* But with genitals."
---
Next stop: wardrobe.
A rack of costumes stood labeled by theme:
- "MILF Lawyer Collection"
- "Pizza But Make It Tragic"
- "Alien Invasion but Everyone's Horny"
- "Gym, Sweat, No Regret"
Reno clutched a robe that said *Daddy Energy* on the back. "This is my Hogwarts."
---
Lexa led them to the editing room.
Three editors sat surrounded by screens.
One scene, ten angles. Soft music in the background. Color correction happening on a thigh. Voiceover tweaks.
Noa stared.
One of the editors turned. "We test scenes in 720p, 1080p, and 4K. Most traffic comes from mobile. You'd be surprised how often people rewatch for plot continuity."
"Plot?" Noa echoed.
"Trust me," he said, dead serious. "People get *mad* if a wine glass moves between shots."
---
Analytics room.
Yes. A room.
With charts.
Pie graphs. Viewer retention curves. Heat maps of where people pause, rewind, and bounce.
Lexa clicked through slides.
"This chart shows peak viewer drop-off at minute 6:34. We traced it to a sock in the background. Removed the sock. Retention improved 14%."
Noa whispered, "This is more advanced than my TV station."
Reno added, "This is *data-driven lust.*"
---
Lunch break.
Noa sat in the break room, stunned.
Next to her, an actor scrolled through his script while eating salad.
Reno popped open a can of soda. "This place is kind of… impressive?"
"Yeah," Noa muttered. "And terrifying."
Lexa joined them, arms crossed.
"People assume it's all sleaze. But it's contracts, lighting, emotional stamina, and marketing. We A/B test thumbnails harder than Netflix."
"Do you… like your job?" Noa asked.
Lexa looked at her. "I *love* my job. I provide pleasure and paychecks. I keep people safe. I've had three lawsuits and zero breakdowns. Can your station say that?"
Noa shook her head.
---
Then came the pitch.
Lexa pulled them aside.
"We're expanding into hybrid content. Sketch-to-screen. Reno, you're compelling. Noa, you're the hook. You have until midnight to sign."
Noa choked. "What?!"
"It's not full nudity. It's stylized. Artsy. Sexy but emotional. Think French cinema but with more oil."
Reno's eyes sparkled. "Like a horny Wes Anderson?"
Lexa smiled. "Exactly."
---
Back at the hotel.
Papers on the table.
The offer was real. Legal. Detailed.
Reno was already practicing poses in the mirror.
Noa sat on the bed, mind racing.
"Are we seriously considering this?"
Reno looked at her. "You're not tempted?"
"I don't know what I am."
She opened her sketchbook.
Flipped to the blank page.
Then turned to him.
"If we do this, we do it my way."
He paused. "What way is that?"
She held up her pencil.
"The absurd way."
---
They didn't sign that night.
But they didn't say no.
And as the city lights flickered outside their window, Noa found herself smiling—
Not because of the offer.
But because for once, she was the one drawing the line.
And Reno?
He was ready to follow.
Even into the weirdest, wildest, most well-lit scene of her life.