Page 16 of Rhythm and Rapture (Behind the Lens #5)

They smile and begin to make their way out. "Just head behind the curtain while the boys finish up and get ready," Maya says pointedly. I give her a grateful smile and move behind the curtain, hyperaware of the guys just on the other side.

I slip into the fishnet stockings first, smoothing them up my legs with careful precision.

The garters come next—black satin with small silver buckles that complement the rhinestones on the mask.

The lab coat goes on over my black lace bra and matching underwear, the contrast between professional and provocative exactly what The Hidden Chemist represents.

"This is torture," I hear Ash mutter from the other side of the curtain.

"This is anticipation," I correct, falling into my teaching voice. "The buildup of dopamine in the?—"

"Sabina," Roman interrupts gently. "You don't have to be The Hidden Chemist yet. You can just be you."

The words hit something deep. "I don't know how to do this without the persona."

"Then don't," Felix says. "Let them blend. You're not just one or the other—you're both. The brilliant professor and the woman who spent three hours sending us increasingly flirty messages in traffic."

"TA," I correct. "Chemist by night."

"How could I forget," Ash grins, I can hear it in his voice. "Remember when you started that game of 'would you rather' with chemical compounds?"

"You asked if I'd rather be molecularly bonded to sodium or chlorine," I laugh. "Still not sure that was scientifically sound."

"Made you smile though," Roman points out. "That's all that mattered."

I pick up the shoes—five-inch red stilettos with small spikes. Finally, the mask, settling it perfectly over my features.

"Close your eyes," I call out.

"What?" Ash asks.

"The full reveal should be on camera. Close your eyes."

I hear them comply, and I step out from behind the curtain.

"Okay," I breathe.

They open their eyes in unison, and the impact of their collective gaze nearly knocks me off my precarious heels.

"Fuck," Ash whispers.

"You're going to destroy us," Felix says matter-of-factly.

Roman just looks at me like I'm something he wants to memorize.

"One more thing," I say, approaching each of them with deliberate slowness. The click of my heels against the polished floor echoes in the suddenly quiet studio. "For anonymity and brand consistency."

I stop in front of Roman first. He's watching me with those intense eyes, visible even through the eyeholes of the mask I'm about to give him.

When I hold it out, he takes it slowly, and our fingers brush during the exchange.

The contact sends electricity racing up my arm—not metaphorical, but actual measurable bioelectrical response.

I make a mental note to mention it during the scene.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his voice carrying weight that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Ash practically vibrates with excitement when I approach him next.

He takes his mask with both hands, immediately holding it up to examine the rhinestone pattern like it's a piece of art—which, in a way, it is.

These masks cost more than most people's rent, hand-crafted by the same artisan who makes accessories for high-end fashion shows.

"This is fucking gorgeous," he breathes, running his fingers over the crystals. "Like stars against midnight. Or music notes on a black score. Or?—"

"Ash," Felix interrupts gently, "let her finish."

Felix takes his mask with characteristic thoughtfulness, turning it over in his hands to study the craftsmanship.

He notices details the others missed—the hand-stitched edges, the way the elastic is concealed within the satin binding, the precise placement of each rhinestone to create maximum light refraction.

"The theme requires uniformity," I explain as they put them on, my voice taking on a teaching tone. "Visual cohesion creates a psychological connection in the viewer's mind. When we all wear masks, we become archetypes rather than individuals—representations of desire rather than specific people."

But even as I speak in clinical terms, something else is happening.

Seeing them in masks that mirror mine creates an intimacy I hadn't anticipated.

We're all hidden now, all protected by the same anonymity that's allowed me to be brave enough for this moment.

The masks don't conceal—they reveal, stripping away everything except what we're here to create together.

Roman adjusts his mask, and suddenly he's not just an attractive musician anymore. He's dangerous, mysterious, the kind of figure who appears in fever dreams and leaves you aching for something you can't name.

Ash's natural energy transforms into something more focused through the mask's frame, his constant movement now seeming deliberately hypnotic rather than simply restless.

Felix becomes even more enigmatic, the mask highlighting the precision of his movements, the careful way he observes everything before acting.

"Now we match," I say unnecessarily.

"Now we're yours," Roman corrects, and the possession in his voice makes heat pool low in my stomach.

Chad appears in the doorway. "Ready when you are, folks. No pressure—this is your show. I'm just here to capture whatever happens."

I look at my three masked men, feeling the weight of what we're about to create. "Let's make something unforgettable."

We follow Chad to the main studio, and I'm struck by the professional setup. The lab table gleams under perfect lighting, equipped with actual scientific instruments mixed with props. Multiple cameras are positioned at strategic angles, and Monty's already checking his video equipment.

"Jesus," Monty mutters from behind his camera. "This is already hot and we haven't even started."

Chad nods in agreement, making final adjustments to his lights. "The visual symmetry is perfect. Sabina, you're a genius."

"I just understand the power of symbols," I reply, moving back to my position at the lab table. "And masks are some of the most powerful symbols we have. They simultaneously conceal and reveal, protect and expose."

Alright, everyone," Chad calls out, adjusting his camera angle one final time.

His movements are practiced, professional—the kind of precision that comes from years of capturing intimate moments without making them feel clinical.

"Final reminder—real names will be edited out if they slip during recording. We're rolling in three... two..."

But before the red light blinks on, I hold up a hand. "One moment."

I move to the center of the setup, falling into my teaching mode as a way to manage my nerves. "So, here's the concept," I begin, addressing both the guys and the future audience. "We're conducting an actual experiment in human arousal responses."

I gesture to the equipment arranged on the table. "We'll be using real monitors to track physiological responses—heart rate, skin conductance, temperature. The educational component involves explaining the biochemical processes while demonstrating practical applications."

"And we're the practical applications?" Ash asks, grinning.

"You're the variables," I correct, warming to my theme. "Each of you represents a different type of stimulus. Based on my observations of your personalities and our interactions, you each bring distinct energy that should theoretically produce different physiological responses."

"She's categorized us," Felix observes, sounding amused.

"Roman, you're the intense, direct stimulus—focused, unwavering attention. Ash, you're the playful, unexpected variable—spontaneity and surprise. Felix, you're the methodical, controlled approach—deliberate and calculated for maximum effect."

"I like being a variable," Ash decides. "Very scientific."

"The narrative follows the scientific method," I continue, attaching the first monitor to my wrist. "We start with baseline readings, then introduce variables one at a time, documenting responses. The experiment progresses from observation to... participation."

"When you say participation..." Roman's voice has dropped an octave.

"The second phase involves testing how the subject—me—responds to combined stimuli.

How different approaches layer and interact.

" I take a breath, making eye contact with each of them.

"This is about authentic responses, not performance.

The education comes from honest documentation of human chemistry. "

Monty gives us a thumbs up. "Rolling whenever you're ready."