Unscripted

‘Luz… you don’t understand. She is so bold and she doesn’t know boundaries, which is fucking great cause her character is like THAT.. but if she doesn’t follow my instructions while filming, she will definitely hear from me.’ Said Marta a little outraged, while smoking outside on the terrace, speaking on the phone.

‘Marta… breathe! You need to calm down.. you haven’t even seen her act and you are already starting a riot. Relax… She will behave and also, you hired her, and your instinct never misses. I am your best friend, so I know.’

‘I so love you. But yeah, we’ll see what she can do. The thing is that I have watched her play in some short films and she was really good, but this is a very complex character.’

‘But she sounds complex, too… as you just told me how bold she was and I feel the tension in there made you a little bit weak, huh?’ Luz teased her.

‘Hey… no. I am never weak. I have the control and you know that. Especially when it comes to my work… I command it. She just... I don’t know, I guess she got on my nerves a little bit.’  Marta didn’t know what she felt exactly.

‘So it’s a love-hate relationship.’

‘Sorry, what? What relationship, Luz? Are you insane?’ Marta panicked instantly.

‘WOMAN! Professional relationship.. calm your ass down. What happened to you? I have never seen you like this..’ Said Luz on a worried tone.

‘Like what?’ Marta was intensely smoking, as if her life depended on it.

‘Like someone made you feel insecure, like you are terrified and anxious. What happened in there, Marta?’

‘Nothing happened.. we just talked about the script.. listen, I need to go. She’s already rehearsing.’  Said Marta wanting  to avoid answering.

‘Sure… you’ll tell me one day. Go do magic. Love ya’.’

‘Love you, too.’ Marta hung up and took a deep breath as if she just got out of an interrogation room. She felt… like all kinds of feelings were let out of a cage and now they run wild in all places. She feels weak but at the same time confident, she feels rage but at the same time admiration for Fina…

She finished her cigarette and entered her boss mode, straightening her spine and went directly inside the studio.

Marta steps into the dimly lit rehearsal studio, the air buzzing with quiet anticipation. A few crew members linger in the background, adjusting lights, setting up cameras, but Marta’s focus is singular. She takes a seat in the director’s chair, crossing one leg over the other, script in hand, her expression unreadable.

Marta: ‘Alright, team… let’s get started. Fina, I want you to ease into it… play with the tension, but don’t give in too quickly. Make him work for it. Keep your movements calculated, your words soft but firm. You’re in control.’

Fina, standing near the bar set, only offers a small smirk, her fingers brushing over the rim of the empty whiskey glass in front of her. The male actor sits beside her, shifting slightly under the weight of Marta’s intense gaze.

Marta leans back, nodding. ‘Alright… camera set? And.. Action!’ Marta’s voice was strong… demanding.

Fina exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders before slipping effortlessly into character. Her posture shifts…more languid, more deliberate. She trails a finger along the glass before turning her head, her gaze locking onto her scene partner’s as if he’s the only man in the world.

Fina (in character): ‘You know what I hate?’ 

Her voice is smooth, inviting, like silk draped over a blade. She leans in slightly, the dim bar lights catching the curve of her lips. Fina continues.. ‘Boring men.’

Marta tilts her head, watching. The way Fina moves is almost hypnotic, an effortless command of space and attention.

The male actor clears his throat, trying to keep up. ‘And what makes a man... not boring?’

Fina’s eyes flicker over him, slow, assessing, before she smirks. She reaches for the drink in front of her, takes a sip, then slides it toward him, watching as he follows her lead. Then, just as he lifts the glass to his lips, she leans in… her mouth dangerously close to his ear.

Fina (whispering): ‘Surprise me.’

Marta grips her pen tightly, not realizing she’s been holding her breath.

The male actor hesitates for a beat before placing his hand lightly on Fina’s wrist, as if testing boundaries. Fina doesn’t pull away. Instead, she tilts her head back slightly, exposing the delicate curve of her throat.

Marta (sharply): ‘And CUT! We’re doing it again.’

Everyone startles slightly, except for Fina, who merely turns her gaze toward Marta, a knowing flicker in her expression.

Fina: ‘Something wrong, Director?’

Marta holds her stare for a second too long. ‘Your timing was off. You let him in too soon.’ She leans forward, eyes narrowing.

‘You’re a woman who’s used to getting what she wants, Fina. You don’t give it away like candy. Make him earn it. This is what you always do… with every other man. He’s not an exception.. yet.’

Fina presses her lips together, nods, then turns back to her partner.

They reset. The scene plays again. This time, Fina takes her time… her gaze lingers longer, her touch is more fleeting, more suggestive without being obvious. Marta watches, arms crossed, fighting the annoying heat creeping up her spine.

Fina is too good at this. Too natural. Too intoxicating to watch.

Marta exhales sharply, flipping a page in her script with unnecessary force. She leans forward in her chair, her fingers tapping against the script. The scene should be working. It is working. The air is thick with chemistry, the crew exchanging silent glances as Fina effortlessly plays her part. And yet… Marta isn’t satisfied. Something is off. Or maybe, something is too much.

Fina, still dressed in her own outfit… a simple silk camisole tucked into tailored pants, no attractive or bold costume yet.

Fina (in character, sultry): ‘You talk a lot.’

She lifts a hand, trailing her fingers along the actor’s tie before giving it a slow, deliberate pull. He stiffens slightly, caught between anticipation and submission.

Fina (lowers her voice, teasing): ‘Do you always need words to convince a woman… or just me?’

The male actor swallows, playing along. ‘I prefer action.’

Fina lets out a soft, breathy laugh and leans in.. closer than before, so close that their lips almost touch. But she doesn’t kiss him. She pauses. Her eyes drop to his mouth, lingering, making him wait.

Then, just as Marta is about to call cut, Fina tilts her head sharply, dragging the tip of her nose along his cheek instead. Slow, sensual, teasing… Her breath ghosts over his skin, her lips barely grazing the corner of his mouth before she pulls away completely, slipping out of reach with a wicked smirk.

Marta grips the armrest of her chair, tension building up in her stomach.

Marta (firmly): “CUT! Again.”

Fina turns her head slightly, studying her. That same amused flicker in her eyes from earlier.

Fina: “What now, Director?”

Her tone is smooth, but there’s an edge to it… like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Exactly what Marta is feeling.

Marta presses her lips together. ‘You’re playing. But I need more... I need the moment to feel earned, not just performed.’

Fina hums, dragging a hand through her hair before turning back to her scene partner.

Fina (in surprising tone): ’Damn, she’s intense.’ She leans in again, slower this time, her voice lower. ‘You’re trying so hard, aren’t you?’

Her fingers toy with the fabric of his shirt, feather-light. Then, without warning… she pulls him onto her lap.

The entire room stills. Marta’s breath catches…

The male actor hesitates for a second, clearly startled, but Fina doesn’t. She settles him against her as if he weighs nothing, her grip firm but effortless. One hand rests low on his back, the other trailing up his chest, just enough to make him nervous.

Fina (almost whispering): ‘Better?’

It’s not the move itself that gets to Marta. It’s how natural it looks. How practiced... As if this isn’t an act at all… just muscle memory.

A game Fina has played too many times before. Marta exhales sharply, pushing up from her chair. ‘That’s enough!’

Fina blinks, her expression unreadable, but she lets the actor go, smoothing down her pants as she leans back against the bar set.

Marta crosses her arms. She should be critiquing, directing, saying something. Instead, her mind is buzzing… unfocused, restless.

Why is this scene bothering her so much? Why does Fina look like she’s having too much fun? And why the hell does she suddenly feel the need to change the script?

After a couple more takes, they took a break… The afternoon air is crisp against Marta’s skin as she steps outside, lighting a cigarette with steady fingers. The flame flickers for a second before she inhales deeply, letting the smoke curl inside her lungs before exhaling in a slow, measured breath.

She needed this break.

The scene had been fine. Better than fine. It had worked… technically. But something about it made her restless, made her feel out of control, and she didn’t like that feeling.

She barely has a moment to herself before she hears the door creak open behind her.

Fina…

Marta doesn’t turn, but she feels her presence… calm, unrushed. The click of heels on pavement. The faint scent of perfume, something dark and addictive. Fina steps beside her, hands tucked in the pockets of her blazer.

‘So…’ she says smoothly, ‘What was that about?’

Marta exhales smoke through her nose, expression impassive. ‘What was what?’

Fina tilts her head, watching her. ‘The way you cut the scene.’ A beat. ‘Did I do something wrong, Director?’

Marta finally looks at her, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘You’re too used to playing games.’

Fina smirks, her tongue briefly running over her bottom lip before she murmurs..

‘Well… you said that the character is used to that.. And you don’t like games?’

Marta stays silent for a moment, then takes another drag of her cigarette. ‘Not in this film... not like that.’

Fina hums, stepping just a little closer. Not enough to be inappropriate… just enough to make it felt.

‘Then tell me what you want.’ Her voice is soft but laced with something sharp, something dangerous. ‘What’s missing?’

Marta holds her gaze, unflinching. ‘I need the moment to feel earned.’

Fina nods, thoughtful. ‘Earned…’ She lets the word settle before adding..

‘So you’re saying I didn’t earn it?’ Fina crossed her arms.

Marta doesn’t answer. She takes another slow drag instead, but her silence is answering enough.

Fina watches her closely, then leans in slightly… not touching, just there, invading space.

‘Or is it… that you didn’t like watching it?’ Asked Fina with a smirk, trying to read Marta.

Marta’s grip on the cigarette tightens slightly, while her eyes met Fina’s. ‘Be careful!’

Fina laughs ironically. ‘Or what?’

Marta turns her head slowly, exhaling smoke between them, letting the tension stretch.

‘Or you’ll lose this role just as fast as you got it.’ Marta said on a bossy tone.

Fina doesn’t flinch, doesn’t step back. If anything, she seems even more amused. ‘Is that a threat or a challenge?’

Marta doesn’t answer.

For a while, neither of them say anything. Just the sound of Marta’s slow inhales and the distant noise of the city. Then…

‘I didn’t picture you like this.’ Says Fina out of a sudden.

Marta flicks the ash off the edge of her cigarette, her gaze still focused somewhere beyond the horizon. ‘Like what?’

Fina tilts her head slightly. ‘Like this.’ A pause. ‘You know… I remember you from the wedding…’

Marta stills, but only for a second. ‘Mm.’

‘You seemed... different that night.’ Fina glances at her, a small smirk tugging at her lips. ‘Softer...’

Marta lets out a quiet scoff, finally turning her head to meet her gaze and spoke... ‘And you seemed... less of a headache.’

Fina chuckles, the sound low and smooth.

‘People aren’t always what they seem, are they?’ Fina continues, letting the rhetorical question in the air…

Marta doesn’t answer, even if the question had plenty… Instead, she takes another slow drag, watching Fina through the faint veil of smoke between them.

Fina leans against the railing beside her, close enough for Marta to feel the warmth of her body in the cool air. ‘I remember wondering about you that night.’

Marta raises a brow. ‘Wondering what?’

Fina shrugs, but there’s a glint in her eyes. ‘What kind of woman you really were…’ A pause. ‘Now I know…’

Marta lets out a quiet breath, flicking her cigarette into the ashtray and crushing it forcefully. ‘And?’

Fina studies her for a moment, then exhales softly… like she’s amused. ‘Not what I expected…’

Marta turns, meeting her gaze head-on. ‘Oh, good. But listen… you don’t know me at all.’ She slightly smiled looking deep into Fina’s eyes as if she wants to make her know she still has the control.

And then she walks back inside… before Fina can say anything else that might shake her control even further.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was around midnight and after she got home, Marta decided to pour herself a glass of Martini on the rocks and go on the rooftop where she created her safe space… her refuge. Bean bags all over, comfy couches.. she usually organizes movie night during summer.

The city stretches out beneath her, a sea of flickering lights and restless energy. Marta sinks into the couch on her rooftop, the cool night air pressing against her skin. In one hand, a glass of Martini… half-full, the ice clinking softly as she swirls it absently. In the other, the weight of thoughts she doesn’t want to entertain.

Marta leans back into the couch, her grip tightening around the glass. The city hums below, but her mind is caught somewhere else… somewhere between admiration and frustration, between control and the terrifying feeling of losing it.

She should be thinking about the film, about structure, about the character. But all she can think about is her… Fina.

Her presence, her energy… how it filled the room like she belonged there, like she was daring Marta to push back, to challenge her.

Marta hated it… Or at least, she wanted to hate it. She wanted to hate the way Fina made seduction look so easy, how she wielded it like a weapon, controlled every inch of that scene, owned her chemistry with that man like it was nothing. Like it was so real...

She wanted to hate how good Fina was. Too good… Because for a moment… just a fraction of a second… Marta had felt something irrational, something that made her chest tighten.

Jealousy? No. That would be ridiculous. But if not that, then what?

She clenches her jaw, tapping her fingers against the rim of her glass. Nobody has ever made her feel like this. Not a single actor she’s directed. Not a single person she’s worked with.

She was always the one in control. The one who commanded the room. The one who dictated the energy.

And yet, sitting there, watching Fina perform… she felt something shift. Something unsettling… Something dangerous.

Because for the first time in her career, Marta wasn’t sure who was leading who.