Shooting musicians live is like a mixture of alchemy and sports.
I love the physicality of the experience, the way I have to crouch and perch and rearrange myself to get exactly the right perspective. I love that I don’t know exactly what I’m going to get, that I have to stay on my toes, constantly adjusting and responding to the environment around me and hoping that whatever I choose to follow with my eye is going to lead me somewhere beautiful. It’s woken up something in me I’d long forgotten about, something I thought had died.
Every show with Electric Daughter is full of mystery and power — and I love hunting for the little suggestions that something big is about to happen, and then feeling the overwhelming satisfaction of capturing it. I often won’t even know exactly what I’ll see until I’m in the editing room with it later. It feels like magic, like something ancient and raw and deeply ingrained in my soul, finding its way to the surface. I never feel more myself than I do when I’m surrendering to it.
The show in Houston is sweltering and sticky, and we’re all soaked with sweat within minutes. My images are good but I don’t get anything mindblowing, which could be more my fault than anything — Electric Daughter is on fire tonight, and the vibe in the room is buzzing with excitement. All I can think about is that last text I’d sent to Reid, which he still hasn’t responded to.
I just think if you really wanted to be with me and I really wanted to be with you then one of us would have made a plan. maybe our actions are speaking louder than our words Maybe we only want something that we cant ever truly have bc we made it up.BC the reality is too hard and what we really loved was just an idea the wholetime
That was two days ago. The humiliating little notification that says “Read 2:32 am” beneath it had me running to the bar with the band after their shows, drinking way too much tequila and trying not to think about what it all meant.
But the exhaustion of sad drinking and possibly breaking up with my boyfriend on top of the full day of travel has caught up to me tonight. I’m shooting with only half my energy, desperate for the show to end so I can go to sleep and stop re-reading our conversation in my mind.
Lili: sometimes I feel like being in this relatipinship isnt different from spending the last30 years wondering what it njmight be like
Reid: Lil, you told me you weren’t going to do this again.
Lili: im not
Im not doing anything i’m trying to be honest with you and I miss you
Reid: Did you just decline my call?
Lili, come on. We should talk. Answer please.
Lili: I just think if you really wanted to be with me and I really wanted to be with you…
I’m scrubbed and clean in record time when I get to the hotel. I put on my favorite old tshirt of Reid’s before climbing into bed. He still hasn’t messaged.
I open our messages and stare at my words: what we really loved was just an idea the wholetime
“Jesus christ.” I say out loud, freshly mortified. Do I really think that? Do I really think Reid just loves the idea of me?
And did I actually tell him that I only love the idea of him?
Lil, you told me you weren’t going to do this again.
Is that what I was doing though, trying to run away because I’m scared? I lean back against the headboard, closing my eyes. I promised him I’d be brave, and I have been. Until the other night. I feel a mix of defensiveness and shame. I can’t be perfect all the time! Maybe I was trying to run — maybe I was scared!
But didn’t he promise me he wouldn’t let me run away again?
My phone dings in my hand, but when I look down I see it’s Nisha.
Nisha: Back at the hotel? Send me your room number and I’ll have them send you up something.
Lili: Oh, no thank you I’m about to go to bed.
Nisha: Lil, just trust me, you’ll want this.
I roll my eyes. “Just let me go to bed!” I whine out loud, but I text my room number anyway, knowing Nisha won’t let it go until I relent. She sends me a kiss emoji and I plug in my phone and go look for something to cover up my underwear, annoyed that this well-intentioned gift requires me to put on pants.
I’m still digging through my bag when I hear the knock on my door. “Coming!” I call, grabbing the hotel robe lying on the end of the bed. I’m pulling it on and still tying the belt around my waist as I pull the door open. A tall man with a slight scruff stands in the doorway, and I stare at him for a moment. He looks just like Reid.
I blink, taking in his t-shirt and jeans, the canvas weekender he’s holding in his fist. It’s not until he says my name that I realize it actually is Reid.
“Oh my god,” I say. I’m so surprised my voice cracks. I want to hug him, I want to apologize, I want to throw myself at his feet and beg him to forget all my messages, but the clash of feelings seems to overwhelm my system, so I just stand there, staring. His expression is unreadable, like he’s waiting on me, waiting for me to decide what to do next, and it’s this idea that makes me burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” I say into my hands, but they barely sound like words. I feel his palms on my shoulders and then around my back, and they’re so warm and solid and real that I can’t keep myself from touching him. “I’m sorry,” I say into his chest, over and over, apologizing for it all — the crying, the puddle of snot I just wiped on his shirt, the messages, my insecurities, my personality, everything. It’s too much, all this pressure, all the time. I start to sob, unable to speak.
I barely register it when Reid lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed, cradling me while I continue to cry. Reid doesn’t speak, exactly, just murmuring and shushing while he holds me for what feels like hours. Eventually my breathing slows, syncing up with his. I focus on the steady beating of his heart against my hand until I’m calm enough to look at him.
Every time I see him I’m struck again at all the changes time has brought to his features — the creases between his brows and around his mouth, the parts of his face that are somehow fuller and more angular all at once. And yet I can always see the boy he once was, the person I fell in love with so fast, so long ago. I could stare at his face forever, cataloguing the ways he’s changed, looking for signs of how he’s going to change next.
He’s looking at me with that unreadable expression, but there’s something sharp in his gaze too, something that tells me that whatever we say now will decide what happens with us for good.
“You tried to run again,” he says. It’s not a question. He sounds stern, but not angry.
“I didn’t mean it,” I say, looking down at my lap. My voice sounds small. “I don’t want to run.”
He hums, and I can see him nodding in my periphery. He touches my chin, pushing gently until I meet his gaze. His stare burns into me.
“What do you want, Lili?”
The finger he’s resting on my chin moves along my jaw, down to the pulse in my neck. I feel myself become alert, the day’s exhaustion ebbing away.
“I don’t want to miss out on any more time,” I whisper. He nods, his finger moving down my throat, following my collarbones, the dip of my clavicle. “I want to see your next wrinkle form,” I say, sucking in a breath when his finger reaches the collar of my shirt. “I want to be there for the moment when you realize your hair is suddenly gray. I want to see it,” I swallow, and his finger runs back and forth along my collar, slowly. His eyes are boring into me, and I recognize the hunger there. “I don’t want to miss any more time,” I say again.
We look at each other for a moment longer, and then he removes his finger from my collar and pats my leg. “Stand up,” he says, softly. I do, feeling awkward in my robe and tshirt as he just sits there, regarding me. Then he leans back on his hands, spreading his legs so he brackets mine. He nods at my waist.
“Take that off.”
I start a little at his tone. “What?”
Reid leans forward, never breaking eye contact, reaching for my belt. There’s a hardness in his expression, something like a challenge, that makes me press my thighs together. He’s moving slowly, slow enough so that I understand. I have time to stop him, but I don’t. He tugs at the belt until it comes undone. Then he leans back on his hands again.
“Take it off.”
His tone is light, almost indifferent, at odds with the way he’s looking at me.
“Do you think we should talk?” I ask, not totally sure why I’m stalling here, why I’m not just following orders to get naked as fast as possible for this beautiful man I’m in love with.
Reid cocks his head at me, a mock look of contemplation. “No,” he says.
I laugh. “What?”
Reid continues to look at me, waiting. The tingling in my belly is starting to turn, my nerves beginning to take over. I wrap the robe back around me. “Reid, what is this?” I start to tug at the belt, trying to tie it back in place, but he leans forward and rests his hands over mine until I pause.
“Lili,” he says, softly. I look up at him, and I realize how hard I’m breathing. “Lili,” he says again, gently prying my hands from my belt. “You’ve had a really hard few days, haven’t you?”
I nod slowly, and he starts to pull the belt from its loops. “You have. I know, I know it’s been really hard,” he starts to wind the belt around one hand, then reaches up and brushes my hair from my shoulder. “And there are so many things you’re carrying, so many decisions and plans you have to make all the time,” he starts to push the robe from my shoulders, until it slides over my arms and drops to the floor. His gaze goes to my bare legs, up to where my shirt hem hits my upper thigh. He brings his palms to my hips, rubbing up and down until his fingers slip beneath the hem.
“You still get nervous about this, about us,” he says, “ and I think you’re right that I need to let my actions speak louder than my words.” I start to protest but he shushes me, reaching up for a quick, light kiss against my lips. He settles back at the foot of the bed, and holds my gaze as he runs his fingers along my thighs.
“I want to try something different tonight. I want to see if I can show you that you can trust me,” he lets one hand wander to the edge of my underwear, “...completely,” his fingers dip into the elastic and pull, “...to take care of you.” He looks up at me again, as if for permission. I feel myself nodding as he sinks to his knees. Slowly, he pulls my underwear to the side, and without breaking eye contact, presses his open mouth against me.
“Oh my god,” I say, bracing myself with his hair. I hear him moan his approval into my body and I lean into it. He brushes too-light kisses along my seam before licking a long, wet stripe right up my center. I make what I could only describe as a mewling sound, but I’m so turned on I can’t bring myself to care. When he finds my clit, he flicks it gently and insistently with the tip of his tongue, going at a brutally calm pace, like he plans on staying there all night.
“Spread your legs for me,” he says against my clit, and when I do, he rewards me with more pressure, more suction, just how he knows I like it. I’m babbling, cursing and moaning with abandon, grateful he’s stopped teasing. I can feel myself starting to get close, and he must too because suddenly, he stops. I feel his hot breath and then the most tender, featherlight kisses, delivered at a cruel and excruciating pace.
“Reid,” I say, my voice the sort of pure, breathy whine that under any other circumstances would be completely abhorrent to me. But I can quickly feel myself beginning to slip into my animal body, where whatever feral section of my brain that doesn’t care about dignity takes over. I am tugging at his hair a little, pushing my clit against his mouth.
“Uh-uh,” he says, softly. He pulls away from me, standing up, and I lose my balance a little, then actually sob. His hair is mussed and his lips are wet. I notice the belt from my robe is still wrapped around his palm. “Sit down,” he says, nodding toward the bed.
I start to move toward the headboard, making to lie down, but Reid grabs me by the ankles and yanks, firmly, until my ass is at the edge. “I said,” he says, his voice low. “Sit down.”
I can feel my heart beginning to pound. Even though I feel so boneless I’m not sure I can hold myself up for long, I’m also becoming increasingly frantic for Reid to keep touching me, so I don’t argue. I sit at the edge of the bed, spreading my legs a little to give him access. He nods. “Good girl,” he says, his voice low and deep. I feel my mouth start to water, which would be funny if I wasn’t so keyed up and desperate.
And then he just… stands there. I wait, staring up at him, feeling a little like a student trying to please her teacher. Maybe he wants me to touch him? I reach out for his belt, but he only says “Uh-uh,” again, his voice gentle but firm. He’s looking at my shirt.
“That doesn’t belong to you, does it?”
I can feel my nipples get hard under the thin material under his gaze. Why do I feel like I’m in trouble? Why do I like it? I shake my head.
“Take it off.”
This time, I don’t hesitate. I start to hand it back to him, unsure what he wants me to do, how I can get him to touch me again. He shakes his head, taking the shirt and placing it next to me on the bed.
“I know you like this shirt,” he says, and I almost moan when he gets on his knees. “So let’s see how you do tonight.” He folds it as he’s speaking, then lays it next to me on the bed. “Let’s see if you can earn it back.
My body is a live wire of anticipation as his gaze travels over me, across my breasts and down my stomach, back and forth over my hips and along my ruined underwear, which are embarrassingly wet between my legs. His expression turns concerned.
“That looks uncomfortable.”
I’m nodding, a little too quickly, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Without meaning to, I’m shifting my hips from side to side, tilting my pelvis slightly up.
Reid is still on his knees, just inches away, watching. He shakes his head, his expression almost regretful. “Do you need my help?”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, Reid, please — ” but he stands again, walking around the side of the bed. I start to turn to follow him but he stops me with that soft, firm “Uh-uh.”
“Face forward,” he tells me, and I do. The bed dips as he crawls onto the mattress behind me. “Lean back on your hands, just like that.” I only understand when I feel the rub of the terrycloth against my wrists. “This isn’t a punishment,” he says gently, looping the belt from my bathrobe tightly together. “Sometimes I think you need something to push against, something to fight,” he says, and I feel him tug the knot firmly in place, just shy of painful. I feel his teeth against my ear when he says “I think this will help.”
By the time he’s made his way back around in front of me, I’m so aroused I feel like I could pass out. “Please,” I say, whispering. “Reid.”
As he kneels in front of me again, I start to squirm, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. But Reid puts a hand on my belly to stop me. He lays his hands over my thighs and spreads them slowly, whispering. “That’s it,” he says, pushing. “As wide as you can. Good.” He sits back and stares at me. I feel myself start to squirm again. Reid notices.
“Here’s what’s happening Lil. You are going to let me take care of you tonight.”
I suck in a breath. Reid waits a beat.
“Are you nervous?”
“I’m, I —” I look around. Under his scrutiny, I feel myself start to close up. My knees start to move together but Reid puts his hands on them, gently pushing them apart.
“Lili, I get it. You’re confused, and you’re probably feeling a little exposed, and I’m not following the usual script of things that you’re used to. It makes you nervous. And when you get nervous and you feel vulnerable, you get mad. And then you get defensive, and then you attack, and then you run away.”
I look away, embarrassed. Reid lets the silence linger, until I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m not trying to do that,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to run away.”
Reid moves so fast I gasp when I feel him hovering over me, his mouth pressed hard into my temple, his breath is hot in my ear. “But I told you I’m not going to let you run away,” he says. He lowers his weight against me, and slowly grinds his hips into mine until I cry out. “Which means that I’m going to help you break this terrible little habit you have.” I can hear myself whimpering, and I start to nod. Something about him being fully clothed against my nearly naked body is shockingly erotic, and I’m desperate again to do whatever he wants. “I’m going to take care of you, and I’m going to do it my way. And you’re going to learn to trust me, to remember that no matter how nervous and how vulnerable you feel, you can always trust me to take care of you.”
“Okay,” I say as he keeps moving against me, the friction from the denim against my drenched underwear so good I know that I could come in seconds. If he lets me.
“Good girl,” he rasps. Then he’s standing again, and I’m starting to protest before I realize that he’s pulling me up. I have abandoned all pretense of playing it cool, and move quickly, eager to do whatever he asks.
Still wearing a tshirt and jeans, he lies on the bed, then reaches toward me and touches me on my hip. I’m already moving as he pulls me by my underwear up onto the bed, following his direction until crawling up on his chest.
“Here are the rules,” he says, pulling me until I am straddling him, my knees in the spaces on either side of his neck. I can see his mouth, tantalizingly close to where I want him, but he’s holding me firmly in place. “You can’t move. No — don’t complain, or I’ll stop. I don’t want you to move a muscle while I kiss and lick and touch you however I want to.” Reid looks at me, his eyebrows raised. “I want to take my time, and you will do whatever I say exactly how I tell you to, understood?”
I nod, but I’m also starting to feel the edges of the usual worry about this position. He’s tried to get to sit on his face a few times, but I’m never able to lose myself in it, worried about how he’s breathing and whether I’m going break his nose.
But whatever is on my face must be clear to Reid, because I feel his fingers on one of my hips squeeze, and then the other is yanking on the belt around my wrists. I feel my back arch, my breasts jutting up into the air as I let out a small cry. Reid sits up then, pushing hard into my chest.
“You’re going to ride my fucking face,” he says, before sucking one of my nipples into his mouth, hard. He lets it out with an obscene pop. “You’re going to let me eat this beautiful fucking pussy exactly how I want to, and you’re going to sit on my fucking face and you’re not going to worry about me.” Reid takes my other nipple into his mouth, and this time I feel his teeth. “You are going to use me until you come on my tongue.” He laps at my nipples some more, until I’m throbbing between my legs, until my vision starts to blur. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He lets go of my wrists and lies back down, and I scramble up over him as fast as I can on my knees, my arms still tied behind my back. The moment before I lower myself to his mouth completely, we lock gazes. “Now,” he says, eyes hard on mine. “Let’s make a fucking mess.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I start bucking with abandon, surrendering to some animal instinct that turns my body into a thing that only feels. I can hear him encouraging me but I’m beyond language, my abilities and focus all concentrated down to the single, building point of dizzying pleasure where my wet folds rub against his face. I have the wild thought that I’m marking him, covering him in my scent, making him mine completely.
My orgasm comes on like a warm, melting sensation at first, unfurling until something faster and sharper comes hurtling in its wake, a thing so powerful it threatens to split the atmosphere. It goes on and on, colliding with itself as it shifts and breaks and separates, until every muscle in my body is so full of pressure it almost hurts. And then I’m cracking open, the pressure in my muscles changing, turning in on itself until it’s tesserated, every facet vibrating with its own exquisite tension. Then, all at once, everything releases, and all of my muscles go completely limp. I vaguely register Reid bracing me, releasing the bind on my arms, then laying me down against him, his entire body pressing into mine. I can feel the last spasms of my orgasm begin to ebb, and that’s when I realize I’m shaking.
Reid seems neither surprised nor concerned. He holds me, murmuring to me about how well I did, how much he loves me, how proud he is. I feel his lips against my neck, my shoulder, in my hair, on my chest.
“You are perfect. That were perfect,” he waits, and I nod, which starts my teeth chattering. Reid soothes me, running his hands over my hair. “I’ve got you. That was really intense, but you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he says. “Now I’m going to wash you up, and dry you off, and get you all warm in your pajamas okay? I’m going to help you come down. Let’s take some deep breaths.” I nod again, and take a big gulp of air. “Good girl,” he says, kissing my jaw.
I start to cry, or maybe I just notice that I’ve been crying, because Reid is still looking at me with that soft, unconcerned expression.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He smiles, then kisses me again. “It’s all that pressure. You had to let it out, Lil.” I start to sob, and he puts his hand on my chest, over my heart. “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for letting me show you how I can care for you, even if you don’t know the whole plan yet.”
I laugh a little, and then let the sobs take over, while Reid holds and rocks me, wrapping me in the duvet.
“I’m going to give you a bath,” he says, and “I’m going to find you a snack. And you’ll need to drink some water for me, okay?” I nod. “And then we’ll get you nice and cozy and we’ll go to sleep.”
I nod again. “Okay,” I say. “That sounds good.”
“And this is how we’re going to be together, Lil. We’ll just keep trusting each other, taking care of each other, and we’ll do each next step together, until we find the one that will get us to where we want to be.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “That sounds like a good plan.”
