Chapter Text
Carmilla was no stranger to the schmoozing and boozing of film festivals; she had done it a handful of times before. But this time was different, because she actually had to do work.
In her first feature, released just two years ago, she only had a supporting role. She got the opportunity to attend the film festivals in Berlin, Rotterdam, and in her native Vienna. The producers, writer-director, and the two headlining actors went to Cannes, Venice, and Locarno, too. That film did well, but not well enough to cross the Atlantic.
That wasn’t the case for her second film. This time, she was in a starring role. The film premiered in Berlin, then at Cannes, and then in September, they finally made their way to Toronto for its North American premiere.
As much as Carmilla loved film and grew up seeing film festival entries, she still didn’t know how she felt about the industry side of it all. The cocktail parties in Europe were too political and too full of people concerned with maintaining aloofness. The attendees at this particular cocktail party in Toronto, however, were overflowing with joyful excitement. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she was getting too tired to think.
Carmilla downed whatever was left in her champagne flute and set off to find Will. He was her handler, though he preferred to be referred to as her manager’s representative . Carmilla found him near the back wall of the ballroom, busy with his phone. She took note that he was standing in a position with a clear line of sight of the kitchen doorways. “Do you know when more hors d’oeuvres are coming out, William?” she asked as she approached.
Will looked up. “Carmilla.” He tucked his phone into his jacket. “Are you having a good night?”
“It would be better if you actually bothered to introduce me to some of these people,” Carmilla said.
“But have you managed to talk to any of them?” Will asked. Every time they left for a festival, they had it drummed into their heads that networking with the industry players—especially the creatives—had to be their top priority. Leave the distribution deals to the producers.
“Yeah, a couple.”
“What were their names?” Will tested.
Carmilla scratched the nape of her neck. “I don’t remember,” she said. “Does it really matter?”
“Of course it does.” Will pulled out his phone. “Lucky for you, I’m around –”
“Yeah, lucky for me,” Carmilla deadpanned.
Will sighed. “I’ve set up three meetings for you. You’ve got one tomorrow at brunch, then a dinner, and then a lunch meeting the day after that,” he said. “A Canadian director, a Hollywood producer, and a French producer.”
“French?” Carmilla asked.
“You speak French, don’t you?”
Carmilla nodded. “Not well enough to act in it,” she said. “He’s gonna think I’m a total airhead.”
“Believe me when I say that that is the last thing anyone ever thinks about you when they meet you,” Will said. “They’re usually trying to work out whether or not you’re going to claw their eyes out.”
“Thanks… I guess,” Carmilla said. “Can I go now, then?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do I still have to be here?” Carmilla said. “You’ve set up meetings for me. Technically, I’ve,” she put her hands up in the air and wiggled her fingers, “ networked .”
“Uh, well… I guess you can go. Just don’t forget to show up for the meeting tomorrow, okay? I’ve made the appointment on your calendar so your alarm should be set,” Will said.
“Aww.” Carmilla reached out to ruffle his hair, but he moved out of reach just in time. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
“Someone’s got to,” Will said.
“All right, I’m off,” Carmilla said. “Don’t wait up.” She walked away from Will and out of the large room. The clock on the lobby wall told her that it was nearly eleven at night. But for Carmilla—and, she hoped, for the rest of the city—things were just beginning.
Carmilla stripped off her dress as soon as she got to her hotel room. She put on a pair of leather pants and a black tank top, and shrugged on a red plaid shirt. She laced up her black Converse high tops and ventured out into the city.
She walked as far away from the part of the city that was the film festival’s beating heart, and found herself in Toronto’s LGBT neighbourhood. It was a cool Friday night in early September, so there were people everywhere she looked. She decided to randomly enter a club, and was pleased to see that its patrons were mostly women.
Carmilla crossed the dance floor to sit at the bar. She ordered a drink. As she waited, a voice piped up to her left.
“Hi! Can I get you a drink?”
Carmilla turned to the source of the voice. It was a young woman about her age, maybe a little bit younger. She noted that the woman was pinching the ends of her left hand’s fingers in sequence, one by one. Though she was smiling, there was an anxiety there. “Uh, I already just bought one, sorry,” Carmilla told her, as gently as she could.
“Oh.” The woman bit her lip, as if she was contemplating just turning on her heel, walking away, and pretending that she had never attempted talking to Carmilla. “Look, can you just humour me for a sec?” She subtly jerked her head. “See those three redheads over there?”
“Yes.” With the club’s lighting, Carmilla wasn’t certain whether they were redheads, but because of their sustained staring, she figured that they had to be the people that this woman was talking about.
“They’re my friends and they dragged me out to this club tonight because they said that I’m too much of a workaholic, and they said that I couldn’t leave until I try to get someone to hook up with me,” the woman explained. “Now, I really don’t believe that I’m gonna get anywhere with anyone in this kind of environment, but –”
She was interrupted by the sound of glass sliding across the bar. Carmilla’s drink. “Anything for you?” the bartender asked her.
“No, thank you, I’m good,” the woman replied.
“Sure then, if you say so,” the bartender said, before moving on to another customer.
The woman took a deep breath before she continued: “Anyway –”
“I’m gonna have to stop you right there, sweetheart,” Carmilla said. She noticed the woman’s face flash in displeasure. “I’ve already got a drink, but if you want to keep your friends off your back, I’m happy to help.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Carmilla said. This woman was frazzled, but she didn’t seem like bad company. “First of all, why don’t you relax? Take a seat, then let me get you a drink. What do you want?” She waved another bartender over and listened as the woman ordered a cocktail off the menu. Carmilla handed the bills to the bartender.
“Thanks,” the woman said. “I’m Laura, by the way.”
“Laura,” Carmilla said slowly, as if testing how the name fit in her mouth. “I’m Carmilla.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Carmilla.” The bartender returned with Laura’s drink. “Thanks,” Laura said. She pulled the glass closer and took a sip. “Thanks,” she said again. This time, to Carmilla.
“Don’t mention it,” Carmilla said.
“Are my friends still watching?” Laura asked.
Carmilla glanced over Laura’s shoulder. “They are,” she said.
“Are they happy? Confused? Curious?”
“They’re… impressed,” Carmilla said. “I mean, not to brag or anything.”
For the first time, Laura laughed. “Well, that’ll satisfy them, I hope,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Carmilla said, shrugging. “Or, you know, anyone else to be with.”
Laura’s expression fell slightly. “Oh. Sorry then.”
For some unbeknownst reason, Carmilla suddenly felt remorseful. “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” she said. “I just decided to have a night out, I wasn’t really planning on anything happening, but you know, this is cool.”
“Yeah?”
Carmilla’s brow furrowed at this woman’s incessant need for validation. She needed to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Why don’t you finish your drink so we can go dancing?” she suggested.
Thankfully, Laura went along with it. She detached her lips from the straw of her drink. “Dancing?” she asked.
“Dancing,” Carmilla repeated. “To make your success look more convincing.”
“Right,” Laura said. “I’m an awful dancer.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Carmilla said. She nodded at Laura’s drink. “Go on, then.” She sipped from her own glass. “So, are you actually a workaholic or are you just bad at dating?”
Laura winced. “Probably both,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
“Well… I don’t know.” Laura absentmindedly traced lines in the condensation on the side of her glass. “I guess it’s just not my thing. I like going out to clubs, you know, occasionally, for drinks and dancing… but meeting someone at a club is a totally different kettle of fish.”
Carmilla nodded. She understood where Laura was coming from, even if she often went to clubs for more than just drinking and dancing. “Why don’t you just tell your friends that?” she asked.
“Oh, I did,” Laura said. “You don’t know what they’re like, though. They always like to say that they’re just looking out for me –”
“But it feels like babysitting?” Carmilla offered. It was clear that Laura was a chronic oversharer, but she looked like she was going to remain distraught for the rest of the night had Carmilla not prompted her to share.
Laura’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, exactly that,” she said. She stirred her cocktail with the straw before finishing the rest of it. “I gotta tell you,” she hopped off the stool, “I still don’t think dancing is a great idea. My friends would say that that’s the surest way that I could put someone off.”
Carmilla finished her drink, too, and stood up, nice and close to Laura. She leaned in, aware that they were being watched by Laura’s friends. She could feel Laura tense next to her, but she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as she spoke into Laura’s ear: “Relax. Let’s go prove them wrong.” She looked into Laura’s eyes and gave her a reassuring nod. With her hand on the small of Laura’s back, they walked to the dance floor together.
It wasn’t that Laura was a bad dancer. She could keep to the beat, and even in the cramped dance floor, she didn’t trample all over everyone’s shoes. Her problem was that she was awkward.
Carmilla placed her hands on Laura’s hips. “Laura, look, I didn’t wanna say it again,” she told her, “but you really need to relax.”
“Do you see my friends anywhere?” she asked.
“No.” But Carmilla didn’t even bother looking. “You care too much about what they think.”
“I care too much about what others think, period. Call it a fatal flaw.” Laura cringed. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is probably the last thing you expected when you decided to come out to have a good night.”
Carmilla smiled at Laura. “Hey, you’re not so bad,” she told her, and Laura smiled back. Carmilla appreciated how the amber lighting gave Laura’s features an intimate vulnerability.
A mid-tempo R&B song began to blare out the speakers. Carmilla used her hands on Laura’s hips to guide Laura into facing the other way, then she pulled her close so that Laura’s back was brushing against her front.
“Carmilla – “ Laura began.
Carmilla stepped forward and rested her chin lightly on Laura’s shoulder. “Is this okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Laura said. Carmilla didn’t know if her mind was playing tricks on her, but Laura sounded slightly breathless.
By the time the chorus rolled around, Laura’s movements became more fluid, more sure. The gap between her and Carmilla’s bodies closed, and together, they moved with the music. “Better, isn’t it?” Carmilla asked. The curve of Laura’s ass brushed against her thigh and she had to suppress an intake of breath. She didn’t plan on dancing with Laura this way to get something out of it, but here she was.
Laura, it seemed, had her mind on other things. Just when the song was about to finish, she turned around to face Carmilla. Her brows were furrowed. “Was that too…?” she trailed off, shaking her head sheepishly. “I didn’t know what I was– I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Acting on an impulse, Carmilla held Laura’s face and kissed her. She was expecting Laura to push her away, but instead, Laura kissed back immediately. Carmilla felt Laura’s hands land on her waist, pulling her closer. Laura’s lips were chapped and a little dry, but what she lacked in her dancing, she made up for in kissing. Carmilla found herself craving more. She stepped forward to deepen the kiss, and nearly ignored Laura’s hand pushing at her shoulder.
Laura stepped backwards, effectively breaking the kiss. “Carm–”
Carmilla’s hands dropped to her sides. “Shit –”
Laura shook her head. That was when Carmilla registered that Laura’s hands were still on her waist, even if they were holding her at a bit of a distance. “No, no, it’s just that I don’t wanna be making out in the middle of the dance floor.”
An inexplicable relief washed over Carmilla. “It’s best to move aside, then,” she said.
“That’s the plan.” Laura bit her lip. “That is, if you still want to?”
Carmilla stepped out of Laura’s grasp, and took Laura’s right hand in her left. “Lead the way.”
Laura was definitely a much better kisser than she is a dancer. So much so that Carmilla allowed herself to be the one with her back pressed up against the wall in some random club in Toronto. That was certainly the least of her worries as Laura gently bit on her bottom lip.
Carmilla slipped her tongue into Laura’s mouth, earning a small moan from the other woman. She could feel Laura’s hand tugging lightly at the hair on the nape of her neck, which sent chills down her spine. Her own hand slid under Laura’s denim jacket and found purchase on the small bit of skin exposed where Laura’s tank top had ridden up. Carmilla crept her fingers upwards until her palm was flat against the warm skin of Laura’s lower back.
“W-wait.” Laura pulled away from her, gasping. “We should probably get outta here.”
“What about your friends?” Carmilla asked. They were really the last thing on her mind right now, since she was in a foggy haze of arousal.
“I’ll text them when we get to my place,” Laura said distractedly. “Unless yours is closer?”
“Your place sounds like a better idea,” Carmilla said. It wouldn’t be a five star hotel, unlike her current accommodation, but there were probably no film industry bigwigs hanging around nearby wherever Laura lived.
Laura raked her fingers through her hair as she tried to catch her breath. “All right, let’s go outside. I’m gonna see if we can get an Uber home,” she said. This time around, she was the one who took Carmilla’s hand and made a beeline for the club’s exit.
They weren’t the only ones waiting for a ride out on the footpath. Laura busied herself with her phone while Carmilla scanned the streets. Even with couples and the groups of university kids loitering at the nearby taxi stand, there were still more people lining up to get inside the clubs than there were coming out.
“Ten minutes, tops,” Laura told her. She dropped her phone back in her bag and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “Do you wanna get a coffee or something while we wait?”
“Are there any places open this time of night?” Carmilla asked.
“There’s a convenience store right over there.” Laura pointed across the street. “And there’s a twenty-four hour Tim Hortons around the corner from here, if I remember correctly.”
Carmilla’s nose wrinkled instinctively. “Sorry, buttercup, filter coffee isn’t my thing,” she said. “Especially if it’s from North America. You guys ruined coffee.”
Laura didn’t protest. “It still does the job,” she said, shrugging.
“I’d rather have a can of Coke instead,” Carmilla said.
“Okay. Do you want a can of Coke, then?”
Carmilla shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m wired enough. You?”
“Yeah, same here,” Laura said. “Uh, look…” Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I don’t usually do this.”
“Do what?” Carmilla asked.
“You know,” Laura shrugged, “take girls home.”
“I figured,” Carmilla said. “You like taking them on dates first.”
“I mean, yeah, sure.” Laura began to fidget. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take you home, though.” If anything, the blush that rose to her cheeks was more obvious under the hazy streetlights.
“I’m your exception.” Carmilla smirked at Laura, aware of the disarming effect it had on her. “Thanks, cutie. That makes me feel special.” It would’ve been a sarcastic comment if she had said it to anyone else, but Laura already had this strange way of bringing out Carmilla’s sincerity.
They shared a look, which they held for what seemed like an eternity. Until Laura’s phone beeped. With fumbling fingers, she retrieved it from her purse. “Oh, our Uber’s just across the road. That Camry over there.” She pointed at a silver car parked in front of the convenience store. She looked at Carmilla again. “You sure you still wanna do this?”
Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to change my mind?”
“I’m hoping you won’t.”
“I’m not going to,” Carmilla said. “So you better stop asking.” Before Laura could reply, she looked both ways and crossed the road.
Laura locked her door, flicked on the lights, and turned to face Carmilla, who was standing in the hallway. “So, do you want a –”
Carmilla interrupted her with an abrupt kiss, tongues and all. Laura sighed and leaned into her, steadied by Carmilla’s hands grasping her waist. Carmilla broke off the kiss long enough to say: “No more unnecessary questions.”
The Uber ride from the club to Laura’s place had been longer than Carmilla had expected, but she made it fun for the both of them. In the backseat of the car, she took Laura’s hand in hers and traced light circles on her palm. And then her fingers slowly, suggestively crawled up Laura’s exposed forearm. She smirked when Laura turned to face her, which caused Laura to shudder involuntarily.
Carmilla then released Laura’s hand. She shifted in her seat so she could easily reach Laura’s knee. And then she started small talk with Laura, just to direct the driver’s attention elsewhere. “When do you think it’s gonna start getting colder?” With the lightest of touches, she skimmed her fingertips up and down Laura’s denim-clad thigh.
Laura’s breath had hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. Even in the dark, Carmilla could tell how flustered she was. “Uhm,” she glanced at the driver, who looked like he was busy paying attention to the road, and then shot a look at Carmilla, as if to say, Really? The weather? “Usually closer to October. But it doesn’t get cold every day until after Thanksgiving.”
Carmilla alternated between a light and firm pressure on Laura’s leg as she continued talking. “Canada celebrates Thanksgiving earlier than the Americans, right?” she asked.
“Yes.” Laura hid another shudder by taking a deep breath. “Where are you from again?”
“I’m from Austria,” Carmilla said. She then rested her hand on the top of Laura’s thigh, fingertips dangerously lingering by the inseam of Laura’s jeans, and that was where it stayed for the rest of the trip.
Of course, Laura still found a way to be awkwardly hospitable when they arrived at her place. Because apparently, that was really just the way she was.
Carmilla worked to drive the hospitable thoughts from Laura’s mind. Okay, maybe not all of them. There were other ways that Laura could show her hospitality.
And Laura was being hospitable, indeed. She had kicked off her shoes and frantically bent down to help Carmilla out of hers. She straightened up and launched herself at Carmilla, her right hand tangling in Carmilla’s hair and her left hand running down Carmilla’s side.
Carmilla took hold of Laura’s jacket collar and peeled it back from Laura’s shoulders, urging Laura to drop her arms so that Carmilla could shove the jacket off. The denim landed on the floor with a soft thump, and Laura’s hands returned to Carmilla’s body.
“Off,” she mumbled against Carmilla’s lips, referring to Carmilla’s plaid shirt.
Carmilla shrugged the garment off, joining the jacket on the floor. Carmilla grabbed Laura by the hips and pressed their bodies against each other. She ducked her head to press hot kisses down Laura’s neck and across her collarbone. Her hands slid further down to grope Laura’s ass, and she couldn’t help but feel smug as she listened to Laura’s increasingly shallow breathing.
Laura grasped the hem of Carmilla’s tank top, and stepped backwards to allow enough space to pull it over Carmilla’s head. With her hands on Carmilla’s waist, she began guiding them backwards into the living room. She moved to unbutton Carmilla’s pants. “These are ridiculous,” she muttered.
“Ridiculously sexy?” Carmilla asked. She popped the button open herself, shimmied them down her body, and then stepped out of them. She reached out for Laura’s tank top, but Laura was unresponsive, busy staring at Carmilla’s barely clothed body. “Come on, take it off.”
Laura obliged.
“The bra, too,” Carmilla said.
And so the bra went.
Carmilla’s mouth went dry at seeing Laura topless. “C’mere.” Her voice had dropped to a growl.
Laura closed the gap between them and met Carmilla with a hungry kiss, her arms wrapping around Carmilla’s neck. Their bare skin suddenly pressing together made them more frantic, more desperate. Laura bit Carmilla’s lip, earning a deep moan from Carmilla that made them both shudder. She nipped at Carmilla’s shoulder, and Carmilla didn’t have the heart to tell her to be careful about leaving marks. Instead, she responded in whimpers.
“ Jesus ,” Laura breathed. Her eyes were wide, seemingly in awe of Carmilla’s reaction.
“My name’s Carmilla,” Carmilla panted. “Why’d you stop?”
Laura managed a chuckle. “Sorry, should I continue?” she asked.
Instead of replying, Carmilla unbuttoned Laura’s jeans. She walked Laura towards the couch and shoved her on it. And then she hooked her fingers through the waistbands of Laura’s jeans and underwear. She locked eyes with Laura and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Yes,” Laura managed to say.
Carmilla pulled Laura’s jeans and underwear off her legs and tossed them to the side, leaving Laura completely naked. Carmilla kneeled on the floor, positioned between Laura’s spread legs. She inhaled the thick scent of Laura’s arousal. Her left hand was on Laura’s thigh, with her thumb stroking dangerously close to Laura’s centre.
Laura whimpered and thrust her hips at Carmilla.
The sight of Laura looking helpless with want only increased Carmilla’s desire to take her even more. Not wanting to delay either of their satisfaction any longer, she thrust two fingers into Laura, causing Laura to gasp softly. She moved her fingers slowly at first, carefully watching how Laura reacted to her actions.
“Carmilla?”
“Yeah?” Carmilla kept going slow, relishing in the fact that it was beginning to frustrate Laura.
Laura’s words were deliberate: “I do want to come sometime before Christmas, you know.”
“Sure.” But Carmilla didn’t change her speed.
Laura nudged Carmilla’s hip with the heel of her foot. “Come on,” she said.
“‘Come on’ what?”
Whatever snarky comment Laura was about to make disappeared in her throat when Carmilla thrust into her in just the right way, eliciting a loud moan. However, she still managed to glare at Carmilla, though her pupils were blown. When Carmilla wouldn’t budge, Laura bit her lip as her hand moved to her chest to pinch and tug at her nipples.
“Fuck,” Carmilla muttered. She decided it was time for her to speed up. Bracing herself with her right hand on the couch, she shifted so she was at a better angle to move her arm. She steadily increased the speed of her thrusts and couldn’t help but smile when Laura moaned and whimpered in time with them. Without breaking her rhythm, she leaned forward to kiss the underside of Laura’s breasts, and worked her way down Laura’s abdomen. She felt Laura’s walls clench around her fingers, so she focused on getting Laura over the edge.
Laura threw her head against the back of the couch and cried out as she came.
Carmilla slowed down her thrusts, letting Laura ride out her orgasm. When Laura eventually settled down, she pulled her fingers out and roughly wiped them on Laura’s thigh. She watched Laura relax on the couch, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath. Carmilla pulled herself up and sat on the couch next to Laura.
After a moment, Laura tapped on the thigh. “Come here,” she said, indicating to her lap. She stared up at Carmilla as Carmilla straddled her. Her hands roamed from Carmilla’s stomach to her ribs, then moved up Carmilla’s back to unclasp her bra. With that left forgotten on the floor, Laura, with a wicked expression on her face, leaned forward and kissed her way around Carmilla’s left breast. And then her lips closed around Carmilla’s nipple.
The sensation of Laura’s teeth shot a wave of arousal through Carmilla. “Oh,” was all she could say, before Laura’s hand slid into her underwear.
Carmilla woke to the sound of soft footsteps. She opened her eyes. She was lying in bed, on her side, facing the window. Sunlight shone as a tiny sliver between the blinds. Carmilla groaned. She rolled over and saw Laura, frozen mid-step, looking at her apologetically.
“Sorry,” Laura said. “Go back to sleep.”
Carmilla glanced at the clock radio on Laura’s nightstand. It was just after nine o’clock. Her brunch meeting was at eleven-thirty. “How long have you been up?” she asked Laura.
Laura walked towards the bed. She was wearing a light grey sweater and black leggings. Her face was fresh and makeup-free, and her honey-coloured hair—damp from the shower—was tied in a bun. “I woke up at seven.” When Carmilla made a face, she continued: “Habit. I tried to stay in bed for an hour, then I started doing my laundry. I just got back from getting us breakfast, actually.” She took a pile of folded clothes on the dresser. “I hung your clothes outside to air them out. You can borrow these… There’s a towel and a face towel in the bathroom for you. Then come out for breakfast.”
Carmilla sat up in bed and took the clothes from Laura. It was a pair of sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt. “Thanks,” she said.
With a smile, Laura left the room.
Carmilla entered the bathroom. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup had smudged. Sighing, she turned the shower on and stepped in when the temperature was to her liking. She emerged ten minutes later, put on the clothes Laura lent her and towel dried her hair as she walked out into the living room.
Laura was arranging a selection of pastries on a plate. There were two takeaway coffee cups on the dining table. “I didn’t know how you took your coffee so I got you a latté with almond milk. You know, in case you were lactose intolerant. But if you’re not, there’s a normal latté there. I can have the almond milk one. That’s like, Australian-style coffee, by the way.”
“I’m Austrian ,” Carmilla said.
“I know,” Laura said. “The Australians make the best coffee in Toronto, though. I don’t know any European cafés that aren’t run by Quebecois or Greeks or Italians.”
“If you say so.” Carmilla picked up the coffee labelled almond milk and took a sip. It was the perfect temperature. And it tasted better than the coffees she drank in Toronto so far. “The Australians are on to something,” she told Laura. “And I do have dairy issues, by the way, so thanks.” She preferred soy, but she understood why Laura thought that almond milk would be the least offensive choice.
Laura’s face broke into a relieved smile. She put small plates on the table, then placed the pastries on the middle. “Sit down. Help yourself.”
Carmilla did. She picked an apricot danish and nibbled on it. “Sorry, that you got all this food,” she said. “I can’t really eat much, I have a brunch meeting. It’s supposed to be a big deal and…” She didn’t know how to continue without sounding like an asshole.
“And you don’t wanna be that person who’s above eating anything at brunch?” Laura said.
“Exactly.”
“It’s Saturday, though,” Laura said. “You’re working?”
“I am in Canada for work,” Carmilla said. “I have two meetings today, and one tomorrow.”
“Are you here long?”
“I’m flying back to Vienna on Monday afternoon,” Carmilla said. She watched as Laura reached over to place a blue-frosted cupcake on her plate. Laura had just practically inhaled a pain au chocolat before that. “Seriously?”
“I’m a grown-up,” Laura said. She sipped her coffee. “It’s too bad that you’re busy. The film festival’s on, and I bought one of those passes. I’m gonna see a film later and I was wondering you wanted to come along.”
Carmilla froze. “Which film?” Laura told her the title—it wasn’t hers, thank god—and mentioned that it was a Canadian film. “Have you been to many festival screenings already?” If Laura had a pass, she must be somewhat of a film buff—what if she had seen Carmilla’s film already? She seemed like the type to say something about it, but she hadn’t.
“I went to one last night before we went out clubbing,” Laura said. “It’s another Canadian film. They usually have their premieres first at TIFF.”
“Oh.” Carmilla tried not to make her relief too obvious. “Normally I would be keen, it’s just that– you’ll be in the city, right? Maybe I can see you after my last meeting. If you’re not busy, that is.”
“The screenings might have finished for the day,” Laura said. “What are we gonna do? Come back here again?” She laughed nervously.
“I was thinking like, walk around the city, but, you know, if you want to do that...” Despite Laura’s rising blush, Carmilla didn’t miss a beat. “I mean, I had a good time…” Last night was unexpectedly fantastic, which was a rarity with one night stands. She wouldn’t mind the opportunity for a repeat before she went back to Austria. Provided that Laura wanted to do it too.
“Me too,” Laura said. “Let me think about it?”
“I’ll give you my number so you can tell me when you’ve made a decision,” Carmilla said. She and Laura swapped phones and entered their contact details. “I should be out of my dinner meeting by nine. If I’m not, I’ll make an excuse to leave.”
Laura looked horrified. “You don’t have to do that just to see me.”
“Oh no,” Carmilla said casually. “I’m doing it because I’m not a big fan of meetings.” She looked out Laura’s front window. “So, whereabouts is this part of town?” It was very dark while they were in the Uber home last night, and Carmilla was too distracted to take note.
“This is High Park North. It’s west of where the city ‘happens’, I guess,” Laura said.
“Is there a bus? Train? Tram?” Carmilla said. “Back to the city centre.”
“Where?” Laura asked.
“Here.”
“No, I mean, where do you need to be?”
“Downtown. That’s where my hotel is.” Brunch was somewhere closer to the Entertainment District, but Carmilla knew Will would probably want her to get into a more appropriate outfit before showing up.
“There’s a streetcar,” Laura said. “But I can drop you off. What time do you need to be there by?”
“Maybe like, ten-thirty?” Carmilla said. “I can take the streetcar, you know.”
“It’s fine, it’s quicker to drive in on Saturdays,” Laura said. “And I need to go to the mall. Downtown’s on the way.” She took the last bite of her cupcake, just as her washing machine whirred to a stop and then played a short, electronic melody. “Just leave the plates there, I’m gonna go hang my laundry outside, then I’ll bring your clothes in.” Before Carmilla could respond, Laura had disappeared into the garage.
Carmilla finished her coffee in peace.
The meeting with the Canadian director was interesting, but fruitless. Although he talked a big game about how the Canadian industry was active and only on its way up, Carmilla didn’t think that any of his potential projects were the kinds of films that she wanted to do. They ended brunch with vague promises to keep in contact.
The Hollywood producer, on the other hand, was horrible. He fulfilled the worst stereotype of the Hollywood sleazebag, down to his outfit: a t-shirt with some stupid unfunny quote printed on it, loose fitting light wash jeans, and a blazer ! He chewed with his mouth open and slurped loudly. Everything about him disgusted Carmilla so much that she almost walked out when he started pitching his project. She wasn’t interested in playing the exotic European love interest for an ageing action movie star anyway.
To calm herself down, Carmilla walked all the way to Nathan Phillips Square. She sat on a bench, scrolling through her contacts until she got to Will. She jabbed the call button.
Will, clearly expecting her call, picked up after three rings. “Hey, kitty,” he said. “How’d it go?”
“William, I know that you’re not particularly clever,” Carmilla had reverted back to her native German, finding it a better language with which to berate her handler. “But I don’t know how you spoke to that man and decided that he’s the kind of guy that I would enjoy talking to about the future of my career. Or anything else for that matter.” The producer had flirted with her several times over the course of dinner, and even tried prying into her personal life, which unimpressed her even more.
“I was told to give you every possible opportunity,” Will argued. He told her that the man had produced two of last year’s biggest summer blockbusters. “I know he seemed a little –”
“Rude? Chauvinistic? The man could’ve been Charlie Sheen, the way he was going!”
“His filmography though –”
“William, I’d rather work with less successful people if every successful person in this industry turns out to be a repulsive slimeball like that man,” Carmilla said. “You better hope for your sake that tomorrow’s meeting is better, or I’ll be telling Lilita that your judgment skills probably need more practise on one of her lesser talents.”
Will didn’t speak for a few seconds. When he finally responded, his voice was shaky: “Look, Carmilla, just go to the lunch tomorrow, please? That producer is a friend of Lilita’s, and she set up the meeting through her, not through me. I’m sorry about what happened tonight.”
“You owe me,” was all Carmilla said. “Anyway, if you’re gonna come looking for me later, don’t bother. I’ll be out again. Bye.” She hung up and checked her inbox. She sent Laura a message when she left the restaurant, asking if they could meet up. After the evening she had, she really needed to blow off some steam.
Laura hadn’t replied yet, but Carmilla knew that she’d be in the neighbourhood, so she was positive that they would be able to meet.
As if Carmilla had willed it, her phone pinged with a message from Laura. She opened it, trying to ignore how excited she suddenly felt. It read: What the HECK?
Carmilla was taken aback. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. But before she could type out a response, another message arrived: You didn’t tell me you were in a movie!!!
“Fuck,” Carmilla muttered. She typed in: I thought you were seeing that Canadian film.
I was , Laura replied. Long story. Are you still in the neighbourhood or have you decided to crash some exclusive industry party?
I’m in Nathan Phillips Square .
Laura’s response was immediate: Stay where you are. I’ll be there in 15.
Thirteen minutes later, Laura turned up, walking purposefully towards the bench Carmilla was sitting on as soon as she spotted her. “What the hell, Carmilla?” she demanded, but she didn’t look angry. “You’re an actor ?”
Carmilla shrugged. “I told you I was here for work.”
“Come to think of it, you don’t look like a corporate hack in the first place,” Laura said. “I wouldn’t have slept with you otherwise.” That was an odd remark to make. Laura sat next to Carmilla, and they both stared off into the distance for a few minutes. “I liked your film. Loved it, actually.”
“You don’t have to say that just because we slept together,” Carmilla said.
To Carmilla’s surprise, Laura burst into laughter. “I’m not just saying that because we slept together, I promise,” she said, with a hand on her heart. “How was your dinner?”
Carmilla waved her off. “I don’t want to talk about it. I thought you were going to see a different film.”
“I got to the cinemas and the seats were already filled. I should’ve booked in advance, I know, but I was already there and I had a pass that I paid for, so I decided to see another one instead,” Laura explained. She smiled. “Little did I know… Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make things weird,” Carmilla said.
“Why? Are you a big deal and I didn’t know about it?”
Carmilla didn’t know how to answer that question. She had been acting professionally since she was thirteen, then disappeared from the scene to attend the Max Reinhardt Seminar in Vienna. During her third year in the programme, she was scouted by Lilita Morgan, one of Europe’s most prominent entertainment executives. She was Lilita’s talent as soon as she graduated. Her career had been rising steadily since. Despite her most recent works being of the indie variety, the roles she had when she was younger made her a bit of a household name. The most diplomatic—and accurate—answer that she could give Laura was: “The film’s a big deal.”
Wunderkind was best described as a whimsical comedy. Carmilla portrayed the protagonist, Lena, a 21-year-old former child prodigy who moved out of home because she got her first full-time job. The film was about Lena’s struggles in world of adults, where her genius was no longer a novelty, as she had become one of them. They shot the film over a year ago, and it was still Carmilla’s favourite project to date. She was proud of it. And she told Laura just that.
“Well, you should be proud of it,” Laura said. “Something about that film… it just stayed with me, you know?”
“Maybe it’s the incredibly attractive star,” Carmilla said.
“Hmm.” Laura stroked her chin as she pretended to think about it. “Maybe.” She stood up. “Do you wanna get some ice cream or something?”
Carmilla stared at her. “It’s a chilly night.”
“Even better,” Laura said. “Unless you want to go out drinking? Or we can go to a club.”
“It’s not even ten o’clock yet,” Carmilla said. “The clubs would be empty.”
“Drinks, then.”
Carmilla sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for alcohol and loud music tonight. “I’ve got dairy issues, remember?” she reminded Laura. “You can go get ice cream if you want, I probably shouldn’t have any, though, if I want to keep hanging out with you.”
“So you’re sacrificing ice cream for me,” Laura said. “That’s sweet.”
“Don’t get too used to it, cupcake,” Carmilla said. She got up as well. They started walking further away from the square.
“Cupcake?” Laura asked.
“I can’t get the image of you demolishing that cupcake out of my head. For breakfast!”
“Carmilla, we had sex ,” Laura said seriously. “And that’s the image that stuck with you?”
Carmilla shrugged. “Can you blame me? You were a force of nature.” She took a step to her left, so now her and Laura brushed arms as they walked together. “So, where are we going?”