Unholy Sanctimony

THE SHOOT

The morning light over Saint Clarion feels too clean for what Matt’s walking into.

He stands outside PleasureHauz Studios, staring up at the building’s mirrored facade. It reflects the sky like it wants to erase him from it.

Inside, the receptionist waves him toward the elevators. “Studio Three. They’re already setting up.”

The lift hums softly as it climbs.

He catches his reflection in the mirrored walls, a man in a pressed gray shirt, trying to look ordinary. Trying to look like he belongs anywhere but a confessional.

When the doors open, laughter and movement spill out.

Studio lights bloom like false suns, a camera crew circles a white set where actors stand in half-costumes. Music thumps low and steady in the background.

Maya stands near the center, radiant and calm, chatting with Clara and a stylist.

She spots Matt immediately and waves, beaming.

“You made it!”

Her joy hits him like sunlight.

He smiles back, trying not to notice the looks from the crew, how they assess him, curious, skeptical. A stranger in their world.

“Just here to observe,” he says.

“Then you’ll see it’s all harmless,” she teases, brushing past him to meet a makeup artist.

From across the studio, a voice cuts through the chatter.

“Mr. Carver,” Eddie walks toward him, confidence in every step. He’s smiling, but his eyes don’t smile with him.

“You ever been on a shoot before?” he asks.

“No,” Matt admits.

“Good. First impressions matter. Stay close, watch how we work.”

He moves off, issuing instructions with smooth precision. The crew responds instantly.

Maya returns to the set, draped in soft fabric, her hair catching the light like liquid gold. She looks ethereal and painfully human.

Matt stands at the edge, arms crossed, trying not to watch too closely.

But his eyes betray him.

The cameras roll.

Eddie’s voice echoes across the studio, “Slow, deliberate. Remember—it’s about connection, not performance.”

Maya follows directions with calm professionalism. Her co-star, a tall actor named Vince, steps in for the scene.

It’s meant to be simple, an embrace, a lingering look, the illusion of intimacy.

But Eddie keeps interrupting.

“No, no. Softer. Feel it. Let it happen naturally.”

He steps closer to Maya, adjusting her posture himself, his hands too comfortable on her shoulders.

Matt tenses. He tells himself it’s nothing.

Eddie is the director; he’s just doing his job.

But then Eddie lingers. His voice lowers, words audible only to her. Maya laughs awkwardly, shifting away. Eddie presses on.

Matt sees it, the discomfort, the little flinch she tries to hide.

And that’s when something old and raw in him breaks loose. He takes a step forward before he realizes it.

“She said she understands,” Matt says, voice steady but low.

Eddie turns, surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t need to keep touching her.”

The room goes quiet for a second. The crew looks up.

Maya’s eyes widen. “Matt, it’s fine-”

“Is it?” he cuts in, still staring at Eddie.

Eddie studies him, amusement flickering like a match.

“Protective, are we?” he says, smiling thinly. “You don’t seem to understand how direction works.”

“I understand boundaries,” Matt replies.

A few people chuckle nervously, unsure if this is part of the act.

Eddie steps closer. “You’re out of line, Mr. Carver. Why don’t you wait outside until we’re done?”

He turns his back dismissively, touching Maya’s chin again, gentle but possessive.

And that’s it.

Matt doesn’t think; he moves.