Backstage with Sabrina Sweet

I saw the butterfly first. Small, inked between her shoulder blades at the shoot. Something about it made the rest of her look naked already. She moved like someone who’d never been told no for anything she actually wanted. Young. Wet behind the ears. Wet between the legs too, from the way her shorts clung when she bent to pick up her bag. I had to have her. Called her that same night. Said I needed a scene. Said it would be just us. She answered in a voice that already sounded like yes.