Page 12 of Rhythm and Rapture (Behind the Lens #5)

Chapter Eight

The bass line Felix has been working on for the past hour is starting to sound like something, finally. Not quite there yet—the transition into the bridge still feels forced—but better than the garbage we've been producing all week.

"Try dropping to the fifth on the third beat," I suggest, scribbling notes in the margin of my notebook. "Then walk it back up."

Felix adjusts his fingering, and the progression smooths out. "Better. But it still needs?—"

The doorbell cuts him off.

"Food's here!" Ash launches himself from behind his kit, drumsticks still in hand. "Told you guys we should've ordered Thai instead of trying to survive on energy drinks and delusions of productivity."

"We didn't order food," Felix says, not looking up from his bass.

"Then maybe it's that package Roman's been refreshing his email about every five minutes," Ash calls from the stairs.

"I have not been—" I start, but he's already gone.

Felix smirks. "You literally just checked your phone."

"Shut up."

"Overnight delivery!" Ash's voice carries down the stairs. "From California. S. Jaspe."

My notebook hits the floor. Felix's bass makes a discordant thunk as he sets it down too fast.

"That's her," I say unnecessarily.

"No shit," Felix mutters, already heading for the stairs.

By the time we reach the living room, Ash has the envelope on the coffee table, staring at it like it might contain anthrax. It's thick—not just a letter. Whatever she sent, it's substantial.

"So," Ash drums his fingers on his thighs, a nervous habit that's been driving us crazy for years. “Are we opening this or just admiring the penmanship?"

"Give me that." I snatch the envelope before I can second-guess myself. The weight of it feels significant. Inside, I find a stack of documents, professionally printed on expensive paper. The letterhead reads "Behind the Lens Productions" in elegant script.

"Behind the Lens?" Felix reads over my shoulder. "That sounds..."

"Like a production company," Ash finishes, crowding in on my other side. "What kind of production company?"

I'm scanning the cover letter, and with each line, my eyebrows climb higher. "Um. The adult kind."

"What?" Ash grabs for the papers, but I hold them out of reach.

"Just... hold on." I keep reading, trying to process what I'm seeing. "She works for Behind the Lens. They produce... 'high-quality educational adult content.'"

Felix plucks one of the contracts from the stack with his usual precision. His eyes move methodically across the page. "This is for a calendar shoot. June. National Sex Day."

"National Sex Day is a thing?" Ash asks.

"Apparently." I'm still staring at the letter, trying to reconcile this with the woman who quoted our lyrics back to us. "She wants us to... to be in it. With her."

"Like, in it in it?" Ash has managed to snag another document. "Holy shit, look at these medical requirements. Full STD panel, blood work... this is legit."

Felix has gone quiet, which is never a good sign. He's reading through what looks like the main contract, his expression unreadable.

"There's a personal note," I say, pulling out a handwritten page. Unlike the crisp official documents with their perfect typography, this is clearly personal—her handwriting neat but with slight variations that suggest emotion, nothing like the mechanical signatures on the contracts.

I unfold it carefully, feeling like I'm about to read something private even though it's addressed to us.

Roman, Felix, and Ash,

I know this isn't what you expected when you reached out about a collaboration...

I read the rest aloud, my voice catching on certain phrases:

But to be fair, the unexpected is always to be expected. You can never plan for all the shit the world can and will throw at you. And while I would like to say that cliché 'that's what makes life interesting,' the truth is, it actually makes life scary as fuck.

It's why I like science. I like that despite the hundreds of variables that can affect the outcome of a formula, there is always a path toward reason. A way to trace back through the chaos and find logic, even when everything feels impossible.

I may be naive about a lot of things, but my knowledge bank makes me uniquely qualified to say that the chemistry I felt in our messages was real. IS real. The formula makes sense—all the variables align, the reaction is predictable, the outcome measurable.

So why not explore it? Why not see if the theoretical models hold up under experimental conditions?

This isn't just about creating content. It's about testing a hypothesis I've been too scared to examine: that connection can exist beyond screens, that chemistry isn't just metaphorical, that three musicians who quoted my own fears back to me might be exactly the catalysts I need.

If you're reading this, you've seen the contracts. You know what I'm asking. It's unconventional, probably insane, definitely not what any of us planned. But the best reactions often come from unexpected combinations.

The chemistry I felt was real. The question is: are you brave enough to find out what we could create together?

-Sabina

P.S. - If this is too much, I understand. We can pretend this never happened and go back to you being dedicated academic observers. But I really hope you don't.

The room is completely silent when I finish reading. Felix is staring at the contracts like they might spontaneously combust. Ash's drumsticks have gone still—never a good sign.

"She's scared," Felix says quietly. "You can feel it in every line. But she's doing it anyway."

"Because the formula makes sense," I repeat her words. "She's approaching potential rejection like a failed experiment rather than personal hurt."

"Fuck," Ash breathes, flipping through the pages of the stack in front of us. "That's either the bravest or saddest thing I've ever read. She’s really asking us to…”

"To be her first partners on camera," Felix finishes. He sets down the contract carefully, like it might explode. "She told her audience she's never... and she wants us to be..."

We lapse into silence again, the weight of her trust settling over us like a blanket.

"This is insane," I finally say.

"Which part?" Ash asks. "The part where a brilliant woman we've been borderline obsessed with for months wants us to fly to California? Or the part where she's trusting us with something this huge?"

"Yes," Felix and I say simultaneously.

Ash picks up another page, whistling low. "Jesus, look at the compensation."

"It's not about the money," I snap.

"I know it's not about the money, asshole. I'm just saying, this is a legitimate operation. Look at all these protections. Consent protocols, privacy agreements, the right to review footage..." He trails off, actually reading instead of skimming. "This is more thorough than a record contract.

Section 4.2 - Medical Requirements: Please note: the following information is shared with external performers with participant's written consent.

BTL Employee: Sabina Jaspe (DOB: 08/15/2002)

Birth Control Documentation: - IUD

Type - Mirena 52mg,

Insertion Date: January 12, 2025

Effectiveness Period: Five years

Expiration Date: January 2030.

STD Panel dated January 10, 2025 - All results negative (HIV, Hepatitis B/C, Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Syphilis, HSV-1/2).

Male participants acknowledge requirement for identical testing and agree to abstain from unprotected contact with other partners for 72 hours prior to and following production.”

Ash sets the page down, shaking his head. "Damn, they really thought of everything."

Felix is back in analysis mode. "The testing requirements need to happen within 72 hours of the shoot. We'd have to get tested here, immediately, then fly out.”

"You're talking like we've already decided," I point out.

They both look at me.

"Haven't we?" Ash asks quietly. "Dude, she quoted our lyrics. She gets us. And now she's trusting us with literally the most vulnerable thing she could share."

"We'd be responsible for her first time," Felix says, and the weight in his voice tells me he's feeling the same pressure I am. "On camera. For her audience."

"Her audience that includes us," Ash points out. "We've watched every stream. We know her, at least the parts she's willing to show. And she knows us through our music."

"This is different from sending flirty messages," I argue, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.

"Is it though?" Felix picks up the personal note again. "You can't deny we felt the same chemistry from the moment we saw her first stream. That pull, that recognition of someone who gets it. And now she's admitting she felt it too. Enough to take this massive risk."

"We've been obsessed for months," Ash adds quietly. "Watching every stream, analyzing her words, writing songs inspired by the way she explains molecular bonds. That's not normal fan behavior, and we all know it."

Felix nods. "She saw through the screen to us, and we saw through the performance to her. That kind of connection... It's rare."

I think about her last stream, the vulnerability when she talked about fear, about the gap between knowledge and experience. She's brilliant, confident, in control—and she's choosing to trust us with something that could go so wrong if we're not careful.

"It's not just chemistry," I say slowly. "It's recognition. Like we've been looking for each other without knowing it."

"Soulmate shit," Ash says, then immediately backtracks. "I mean, not soulmates, soulmates, but like... musical chemistry soulmates? Fuck, I don't know. You know what I mean."

We do. And that's what makes this simultaneously terrifying and inevitable.

"Fuck it," Ash says suddenly. "I'm in."

"Ash—"

"No, listen. When has playing it safe ever gotten us anywhere?

Our best songs come from taking emotional risks.

Our best performances are when we're scared shitless but do it anyway.

" He's spinning his drumsticks now, the way he does when he's made up his mind.

"This is just... a different kind of performance. "

"It's not a performance," Felix corrects quietly. "That's the point. She's trusting us to be real with her."

And that's what tips me over the edge. The idea that she sees through our stage personas to something genuine underneath, and she wants that. Wants us.

"We need to be sure, all three of us,” I say. "This isn't just some adventure. This is her trust we're talking about."

"So we make sure we're worthy of it," Ash says simply.

Felix is already pulling out his phone. "There's a clinic downtown that does rapid testing. I can call first thing tomorrow."

"Do it," I hear myself say.

And just like that, we're committed.