When you’d reached the stranger’s door, you took a second to settle your nerves before knocking twice. “John?’ you called, forcing your voice steady. “It’s Billie.” Only silence responded from behind the door at first, followed by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. The door pulled open, just a crack, but enough for you to see the face of the man who’d hired your services for the next few hours. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were kind eyes, you assessed, a warm hazel with flecks of copper that revealed themselves when the light caught them just right.

“You’re Billie?” Josef asked. He was obviously surprised, and you quickly realized why. “I was expecting someone…someone-.” Josef paused.

“Male?” you offered. “I get that a lot.” Josef chuckled good-naturedly, his friendly smile easing your nerves. “Well with a name like Billie,” he said, pulling back the door for you. “I can imagine it happens a lot. Please-.” He waved his hand past himself to the room. “-Come in.”

The more you saw of Josef, the more you liked him. He was taller than you, but not so tall that it was off-putting. He was just right, the kind of height you wouldn’t even have to lift on your tiptoes to kiss. The mental image flickered through your mind, and you cleared your throat, remembering why you were there in the first place. Yes he was a good looking guy, who for some reason put you at ease in a way you’d never felt when meeting someone new before. But you were there for the sole purpose of capturing his artistic vision on film, and for that purpose alone.

“So what did you have in mind, John?” you asked, setting your bag down on one of the two queen beds. Josef cocked his head, his curious expression returning. The door clicked shut behind him. You watched to make sure he didn’t turn the lock. Even though you really liked this guy, he was still a stranger. And you were still standing here with him in a sleazy hotel room, with his body currently between you and the door.

“I appreciate your question, Billie,” he said, emphasizing your name. “Billie. Billie the Kid. Anyone ever call you that, Billie?”

You felt your cheeks flush a little, because for some reason, his question felt like a compliment, even though it wasn’t. “I-um,” you distractedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “My dad used to call me that. When I was little.”

Josef nodded, snapping his fingers for emphasis. “Smart man. He had vision. As do I-.” He ducked suddenly around a corner and returned with what looked to be a veil, like the kind you’d seen the Virgin Mary depicted wearing in art. Josef draped the lace fabric over his shoulders and approached you, his face and tone solemn with importance: “…And with your creative direction, Billie, my vision will be brought to life…It was fate herself that willed our paths should cross…” Josef took another step closer, close enough that you began to worry he could hear your heart racing. “You could have been any other Billy…even a Bill, even a William for that matter but no, my dear sweet Billie-.” Here, Josef’s hands moved to cup your face in his palms, your eyes going wide in surprise. “…This is destiny,” he continued, almost in a whisper. “We’re partners now.” He went slowly to his knees before you, his palms together as if in reverence. “Blood of my blood…flesh of my flesh…” You recognized the paraphrased scripture as you gazed down on the strange man knelt at your feet. Josef took your hands in his, rising to a standing position, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh my god, Billie…Oh my god,” he said through a warm smile, eyes lit with excitement. “This is gonna be a good night...”

Over the course of the following hour, you watched and recorded, offering input as requested from your client: a little change in lighting here, a play with background props there. From what you could tell, the vision Josef had in mind was a sort of religious horror short. His ‘character,’ was meant to be a man possessed by unholy forces. The Devil has a deadline, a certain amount of time he’ll allow the man before the demons take over completely. The man knows his time is up, that he’s in his final hours. He hires someone to document on film his last night on earth, before he’s unwillingly summoned to his unavoidable fate in Hell.

As a concept, it all sounded really cool. Bringing that concept to life however, with no budget and a lead who couldn’t act, was not cool by any stretch of the imagination.

Regardless of the details and Josef’s lackluster performance, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Whereas his character was standing strong in the trenches of spiritual warfare, it appeared that Josef himself was breaking down. You knew something was wrong, that he was no longer acting when he deviated sharply from the script and began to shed real tears, not the miserably-unconvincing ones he’d faked for a scene.

“Hey…it’s okay, John,” you assured him. He knelt at the bedside on which you were seated, resting his head in your lap. Your pulse lurched, heart thudding inside your chest. You weren’t sure what to do, so you did the only thing that seemed right: you gently stroked Josef’s cheek in an awkward attempt at comfort. The tears had slowed, but they picked right up again when Josef revealed his left hand, which bore a wedding ring. Your heart sank at seeing it. “My wife,” Josef began solemnly. “This whole project was her idea…She wrote the script, created this character, his whole history…”

You nodded as you listened, your hands dropping to your sides. There’s no way you were going to be touching a married man like that. “…She wanted me to play him, to bring her creation to life,” Josef continued. “It was her greatest wish…and sadly, her last wish…” You hated yourself for feeling it, but a sense of relief washed over you. He wasn’t married after all. At least, not anymore.

“…The cancer took her three years ago,” Josef tearfully revealed. “Three years and I still haven’t made her dream come true…I’m still letting her down, to this day…” His lament was cut short by a sob, words fading into your lap as he wept there. You reflexively began to stroke Josef’s cheek again, because you’d only seen someone this upset a few times in your life. You couldn’t not offer him some kind of comfort; he was obviously hurting, deeply. “I think what we’ve made so far is great, John,” you told him. “From the looks of the script, it seems like you’re following it exactly as your wife wrote it.”

He tilted his head to look up at you, eyes wide and hopeful. “Do you mean it?” Josef asked. With a nod of confirmation, you replied “yeah, I do. I think you’re doing a great job.” His eyes narrowed slightly, a darker look overtaking them. Josef rose abruptly to his feet, and began to pace back and forth around the room. “I don’t believe you,” he declared flatly, in a voice so low you had to ask him to repeat himself. “I don’t BELIEVE you,” Josef insisted, adding “You’re probably sitting there thinking this guy can’t act worth a goddamn…you know I can’t do her dream justice, you’re just refusing to say it! You probably think I’m a failure, don’t you Billie?” He almost sneered your name at you, and normally, you wouldn’t have taken this kind of verbal abuse from anyone. But you knew this wasn’t a normal kind of hurt that Josef was feeling. This man was grieving, haunted by a level of grief you hoped never to experience. Remembering your commitment to judging others less, you knew that right now, Josef wasn’t behaving rationally. He was acting in his grief, and you wouldn’t let yourself take his sharp change in attitude personally. Instead, you calmly came to Josef’s side. You turned his face to yours, letting your fingertips linger along his jawline. The muscles in his throat tensed against your palm, veins pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Josef’s eyes were wet and wide, like a puppy who’d been scolded. “I don’t think you’re a failure, John,” you told him confidently, a warm smile on your lips as your thumb brushed Josef’s. “I think your wife was lucky to have a husband who loved her so much. I think you’re a very special man.” He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing under your fingertips. “Do that again,” Josef told you, his voice as much a prayer as a command.

“Do what?” you asked. Every indication of sadness had faded from Josef’s face, the tension in his body evaporating. “Tell me I’m special,” he replied. Josef’s hands went to your shoulders, gripping softly. “You’re special, John,” you said. “So, so special…” You brushed your mouth lightly against his, breath hitching as Josef’s tongue slipped between your lips unexpectedly. He was aggressive, impatient in a way that told you he hadn’t been touched in a long time. Josef’s hands were everywhere at once, finding your ass and clutching it in one hand while clumsily groping for your tits with the other. You let him lay you back against one of the beds, his hand pawing between your legs and massaging you through your jeans. You arched upward, keening into Josef’s thrusts, his bulge grinding into your thigh as he clumsily humped against it. Your hips trembled as his fingertips found your clit. The front seam in your jeans was positioned between your labia; Josef’s fingertips rubbed rough circles into the denim, kneading your cunt through the fabric. He buried his head against your shoulder, his mouth a wet mess of tongue and teeth, consuming the feel of your skin, its texture, its taste.

You curled your fingers in the hair at the back of Josef’s head, clutching him into you. His lips traveled down your neck and along your collarbone, tongue gliding between your breasts. Opening his jaw wide, Josef drew as much of your breast inside his mouth as he could. Your nipple hardened to meet his tongue, a warm, wet pressure flicking against it. Your grip in Josef’s hair tightened as you arched, pressing your tit against his face, offering as much of your breast as his mouth could hold. Josef sucked at your breast in a rhythmic tug, massaging your aerola between the muscles in his cheeks. He whimpered softly, a sign you interpreted as an expression of pure need. Josef needed to be held, to be cherished. He needed to be desired by a woman again.

You tugged back Josef’s hair to lift his head from your breast. He groaned at the pull to his scalp. A dark smile briefly touched his lips as he indulged himself to enjoy the sting. Josef’s mouth crashed against yours, his tongue forcing past your lips in a kiss that was somehow more greedy than the ones before it. His hands were on your hips, keeping them spread. Your clit throbbed against the bulky outline of Josef’s erection. He ground his hips forward, rutting his cock into the now-saturated crotch of your jeans. He whimpered again, returning his mouth to your breast. Josef clutched your other breast tightly, kneading the soft mound in his hand. Your nipple was swollen and sensitive against Josef’s rough palm as he groped you, his mouth busy at work suckling your other breast while his cock strained at the seams separating your skin. You came hard, rocking beneath the weight of Josef’s body pressing down on you. Your orgasm completely soaked through your jeans and wet the bed under you. Every punch of Josef’s hips produced a slick, saturated sound as he rutted your ass inside a puddle of your own juices. He growled into your breast, like something animalistic. The vibration of his chest against yours was like the low purr of a lion, rattling your lungs as if Josef was inside you, replacing the very air you breathed with himself. His thrusts grew sharper, his fingernails digging into your skin. You winced as Josef’s teeth suddenly nipped at your breast, his bite grazing your nipple as you pulled back in pain. Josef’s hands went quickly to your shoulders, pinning you down, his mouth immediately returning to your breast. Josef tugged and licked and sucked your breast till he was gushing cum into the crotch of his pants, a feral growl rolling from his chest as he claimed you…

In retrospect, you wish you hadn’t fallen asleep. You wish you could have checked in to make sure Josef was okay, to make sure he knew the brief time you spent together meant all that it meant to you. And even if none of that had been said, you would at least have liked the chance to say goodbye.

When you woke, Josef was already gone. He’d left your money on the bedside table, along with a note. The text read: Billie: Thanks for a special night. Beneath the text was what appeared to be a doodle of a wolf’s face. You knew it was unlikely you’d ever see Josef again. But just in case, you keep the note he left you, hoping that somehow, someday, you’ll have the chance to ask him what the little wolf doodle means… 🐺