Under an Amorous Spotlight

“You can’t be serious,” Paris said.

The words, while normally delivered with disgust or shock, escaped Paris’s mouth with amusement more than anything. Which was good news, Ava guessed.

“I just don’t see why not,” Ava said. “I guess the whole … you know, event … got me thinking. Maybe I should leverage what I’ve got. More than I already am, I mean” She didn’t specify what the ‘what I’ve got’ meant. Paris knew, especially in the context of having broached the photo shoot. “And you too, honestly. I mean, you don’t sound like you’re struggling, but some extra money never hurt, right? And publicity.”

"Don’t care about the second,” Paris said. “But yeah. The first is nice. Don’t really know many people who’d turn down a payday. But seriously? You’re okay with it? That’s the part I’m surprised by.”

“Sure. I guess.”

“You’re trying to flash naked pictures of us to the entire internet?”

“There wouldn’t be anything showing,” Ava said. “Just, um, suggestive.”

Paris snorted. A second later, she said, “You know the HA forced me into their offices? Gave me this big speech about behaving appropriately. So … this might not be smart, even if we’re both okay with it.”

“Just a talking-to?” Ava asked.

“Huh?”

“They docked my stipend. They didn’t do that for you?”

Paris blinked rapidly. “They docked your stipend?”

“And gave me a dressing-down.”

“Wow,” Paris said. “Fuck them. Seriously, we hardly did anything. It’s a dildo, on an adult website. What the hell?”

“Right?”

“How long?”

“Was it docked? A month.”

“Assholes.”

“Tell me about it.”

A brief lull, where Paris commiserated with Ava. 

Finally, a shrug. “Fuck it. Why not, I guess?”

###

Ava fiddled her thumbs anxiously inside the polished white lobby of the small-time photography business. Funny enough, the nervousness wasn’t for the looming photoshoot, but rather, an event that felt a hundred times more important. 

Please, please, please like each other.

Paris and Brooke’s first meeting. Brooke had always been the most important person in Ava’s life, but Paris had become a close friend of Ava’s with surprising speed. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say the two closest people in her life were meeting each other, and Ava wanted nothing more than for them to get along.

Brooke didn’t get along with most people. That was the first problem. The second was that Paris could be abrasive; even Ava had formed a poor first impression of her after how rude she’d been. 

“Just, she’s kind of—irreverent. Says what she thinks. Don’t take anything she says personally. She could use a filter.”

“I know, Spotlight,” Brooke said amusedly. “If nothing else, we’ll make nice. She’s your friend. You’re mine. By the transitive property …”

“I don’t want you to ‘make nice’. I want you two to like each other.”

Brooke squeezed Ava’s hand, and the butterflies it sent through her stomach were definitely … troublesome. I should probably address that, a pointedly ignored part of her brain told her. 

“Then I’ll give her plenty of leeway,” Brooke said. “I think I’ll like her. With how much time I spend on your stream, I figure I half-way know her already.”

Right. Sometimes Ava forgot that Brooke watched most of her streams. Or maybe it wasn’t so much ‘forgetting’ as blissfully ignoring the fact. Because it meant Brooke had probably seen all of the lewd and gratuitous shenanigans she’d been getting up to recently. I wonder what she thinks of that.

Does she like it?

Does it turn her on?

The thoughts bounced around, and, like several of the previous, went ignored.

Just a friend. She doesn’t like me that way.

Not that Ava had even admitted to herself she liked Brooke that way.

The lobby’s door opened, and Ava’s head swiveled.

“Man,” Paris—Clash, she corrected—said, striding in. “This place is in the middle of nowhere.”

Ava’s stomach was suddenly wringing. 

“Clash,” she said, standing. “Hi. This is, um,” not Brooke, we’re in public, “Techie.”

“Techie. That’s original.”

“Okay, ‘Clash’,” Ava shot back. “And it’s a temporary name. She’s hardly—” a real superhero? “In the game.”

“The brains behind the operation,” Clash said. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you.”

“Spotlight’s talked about me?” Brooke asked, standing.

“Not specifically as ‘the brains’,” Clash said, lips twisting in amusement, “but her genius roommate, yeah. And you think I’d believe she was handling it herself? This girl?” She waved up and down at Ava, which had Ava crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. “I mean …” Clash said. “Look at her. She’s blonde.”

“Spotlight’s perfectly capable. I just help her with some of the details.”

That’s a lie. Ava didn’t think she was stupid, but the meticulous planning and thorough coverage Brooke provided for their short- and long-term plans wasn’t something she could have done herself. 

“You’re protective of her,” Clash said. “That’s cute. You two …?”

They stared at her.

“You know. Boinking.”

“Clash!”

“What? You aren’t?” She turned to Brooke. “With how much Spotlight talks about you, I figured you were.”

“I—she’s exaggerating.”

“Spotlight and I are friends,” Brooke said firmly. 

“Ah,” Clash said, as if coming to an understanding. “Just gal pals. Best buds. I got you.”

Ava sputtered, but Brooke didn’t. Unflappable, as always. The only times Brooke’s composure broke was when …

Hm.

Well, when Ava was flaunting her body. Like the whole debacle with the uniform, or her awkwardness after Ava’s masturbation stunt.

That doesn’t mean anything. She’s just a bit shy about that kind of thing.

“Good to see the camera doesn’t change you,” Brooke said dryly. “How did Spotlight put it? You could use a filter. Me and her are friends, and I’d prefer if you stopped implying otherwise.”

“Filter?” Clash leveled a look of mock offense at Ava. “I need a filter?

“You’ve said so yourself.”

“Yeah, but only I’m allowed to shit talk me.”

Ava’s face was still heated from the ‘girlfriend’ and ‘denial’ accusations. She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

A door clicked, and a professional looking, brown-haired woman walked out. “Miss Lin is ready for you, Spotlight.” She nodded at the new arrival. “Clash.”

“Perfect,” Ava said, seizing the distraction. At least they don’t hate each other. Brooke hadn’t exactly warmed up to her, but Ava hadn’t expected that, not so fast. It would take a while for her reserved friend to warm up to anybody. “Let’s get this over with.”

###

“Wow,” Clash said. “You weren’t kidding about the amount of skin showing, huh?” She picked at the red-and-black costume she’d been provided.

‘Costume’. It felt absurd to call it that. Why bother with the euphemism?

Bikini. Clash wore a bikini specially made for this event, and while it matched the colors of her day-to-day superheroine uniform, it covered about ten percent as much skin. Likewise, Ava wore an equally revealing white-and-gold bikini. The two of them wore their domino masks, because—obviously. They planned for these photos to reach the public.

Ava was trying not to stare. Though she’d already gotten … intimate … with Clash, in the form of Ava’s oddly discovered powers, she hadn’t seen much of her body. Now, Clash stood there with her body on full display, her toned legs, flat stomach, and—when she turned for whatever reason—a bikini bottom digging between her ass. Wasn’t the costume doing all the work, Ava thought faintly the first time she’d caught a glimpse. Everything she’s missing up top must have gone to her butt. Ava would kill for an ass like Paris’s.

Keep it chaste, she told her fluttering heart and cheeks that were threatening to color. Clash had agreed to this plan because it was an easy payday, and, Ava would admit, because Ava had asked for a favor. Whatever their intimacy in that alleyway had been, it didn’t guarantee they had … well, anything besides a friendship. And seeing how Clash hadn’t brought it up, it had clearly been a heat-of-the-moment thing. So don’t stare too long. Even if she couldn’t help herself from stealing glances. Fuck me, it’s so perfect. Ava wanted to bury her face in and—

She cleared her throat. Clash, who’d been turned away (hence the amazing view) and watching the studio’s three employees set up the set—the lighting equipment, the backgrounds, the cameras, and so on—looked over at her.

“So,” Ava said, realizing she needed an excuse for having cleared her throat that wasn’t ‘I was flustered by your amazing ass’, said, “You’re sure about this?”

“Ask me that one more time, and I’ll point out that you’re the one wringing your hands.”

Ava looked down at them; Clash was right. She forced them to her side. “Yeah, but I feel like you’re doing this for me.”

“I am,” Clash said. “But not in the way you think.”

“I’m sorry?”

She waved up and down at Ava’s body. “Hello? An excuse to be all over you while practically naked? The paycheck’s just a bonus.”

Maybe I didn’t need to keep it chaste, Ava thought dryly. Clearly, Clash was as much of a flirt in awkward circumstances as she was in normal ones. “Well. I’m glad you’ll have fun with this, then.”

“Implying you won’t?” Clash smirked. “I’ve seen you staring at my—”

“Alright, you two,” Miss Lin—the main photographer—said, blessedly cutting off Clash’s accusation. “Everything’s good to go. You ready?”

“As ever,” Clash responded.

If Ava had thought simply standing near Clash in such a revealing costume was embarrassing, the following minutes were ten times worse. Or better, depending on her perspective. Miss Lin and her assistants shuffled the two of them through a variety of poses. Considering the purpose of the photoshoot, they were … pretty compromising to Ava’s efforts to keep her thoughts appropriate. 

Miss Lin must have noticed how amazing Clash’s ass was, too, because she took advantage of it. The first several poses presented it as a centerpiece. Ava’s too, for that matter. The first was them looking over their shoulders while they had their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. The next, the two of them hugging, Clash pressed into Ava while Clash’s butt faced the camera, with Ava’s chin resting on her shoulder. And so on.

They got each of the poses from a variety of angles—the giant camera set-up swiveled and shifted, and Miss Lin’s assistants used more portable ones to take shots from more dynamic positions. Ava was vaguely aware, at all times, of Brooke standing on the outskirts, watching her and Clash go about things.

“How racy are we getting?” Miss Lin asked once they’d taken a smorgasbord of ‘semi-chaste’ poses … for a sense of the phrase.

Ava glanced at Clash, who saw Ava’s hesitance and responded for her. “We can always choose which to keep, later. So let’s get a bit daring, yeah?”

Miss Lin looked at Ava, who, after a second, nodded in agreement.

“Then for this one,” Miss Lin said, “Let’s get your chests together, hands on each other’s butts. Is kissing fine?”

Another shared look, this time with Ava’s eyes widening.

“You cool with that?” Clash asked.

“Kissing? Of course I am.” Her voice was an octave too high to sell the act. But considering they were taking a lewd photoshoot together, obviously some kissing poses were on the books. “It’s part of the job.”

Clash studied Ava’s face for a second, then grinned and stepped forward. As had been the trend, Clash took the lead, setting up the pose without hesitance. Her hands cupped Ava’s ass and pulled her in, their tits pressing together. With how skimpy their uniforms were, plenty of warm, soft skin met. She felt Clash’s flat, toned stomach against her own. 

Ava’s mind was quickly going blank, with Clash’s face so close to her own. 

“You sure?” Clash asked teasingly.

Ava’s lips were parted, and she couldn’t form a reply. Her eyes were locked to Clash’s lips. 

Clash took that for permission. She leaned forward and took Ava’s mouth with her own.

Ava closed her eyes and sank into the kiss. Just … part of the pose. This doesn’t mean anything. Her hands found Clash’s ass, too, pulling her in tight, pressing their bodies closer. The tiny uniform meant she wasn’t gripping fabric so much as Clash’s bare ass.

The kiss started gentle. Clash didn’t seem intent on turning it into anything more … and Ava was just as surprised as Clash when Ava pried her mouth open. Ava’s tongue explored Clash’s mouth, her movements becoming desperate and heated. Clash reciprocated.

“That’s enough, girls,” Miss Lin’s amused instruction came, a minute (second? Year?) later. “We’ve got our shots in. Time for the next.”

They separated. Ava admired Clash’s blown-out pupils and her panting, red face. Clash ran a tongue across her lips to clean herself—the sloppy saliva remains of their frenzied exploration—and Ava did the same. She swallowed, then tore her eyes away from Clash’s blush.

“Now same pose, no kissing, please,” Miss Lin said. She seemed highly entertained at how she and Clash had lost their composure. “And maybe the same one again, too. Less frenetic. I’m sure it was fun, but it doesn’t make for great photography.”

Ava tried to fight away the blaze on her face.