Chapter 25 – Heat & Horizon

The Dubai heat never really left her skin it just settled deeper, like a second pulse.

Adeyemi—Amina Ray now, on contracts and call sheets had found a rhythm that felt almost easy. Four to six scenes a month, carefully chosen. Directors who listened when she said “slower,” “more eye contact,” “less performance, more presence.” Co-stars who became friends. A small circle that understood the work without needing to dissect it.

Her most frequent partner was still Karim. They had chemistry the camera loved slow builds, real laughter between takes, moments when the director called “cut” and neither of them moved right away. One shoot in a desert riad outside the city sandstone walls, low divans, lanterns flickering like trapped stars turned into something quieter than planned.

The script called for a slow seduction: her in sheer black lingerie, him in loose white linen, the camera circling like a patient lover. But when the lights dimmed and the director whispered “action,” they forgot the lines.

He knelt between her thighs on the cool tile, kissed the inside of her knee the way he always did gentle, deliberate. She threaded her fingers through his hair, guided him higher without speaking. When his mouth found her she let her head fall back against the cushions, a low sound escaping that wasn’t scripted.

The camera caught it all the way her thighs trembled, the way his hands pressed her hips down to keep her still, the way she looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.

When he finally slid inside her slow, deep, eyes locked she wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered against his ear:

“Green.”

He smiled small, private and answered with a thrust that made her gasp.

They moved together like they’d rehearsed for years rhythmic, unhurried, every shift deliberate. Her nails dug into his shoulders. His mouth found the curve of her neck. When she came it was quiet at first then louder, raw, her whole body arching off the cushions. He followed moments later, burying himself deep, groaning her stage name like a prayer.

The director didn’t call cut for a long time after.

Afterward they lay tangled on the divan, sweat cooling on their skin, the desert wind moving through the open arches. The crew packed up quietly around them.

Karim traced lazy patterns on her thigh.

“You ever think about stopping?” he asked.

She looked up at the ceiling stars visible through the open roof.

“Sometimes. But I like this version of me. The one who chooses. The one who isn’t hiding.”

He nodded against her shoulder.

“Me too.”

They travelled again that winter Layla, Zara, Karim, and two others from the agency. A week in Bali: private villa on the cliffs, infinity pool dropping into jungle green, no schedules, no cameras unless someone felt like it.

Days blurred: morning swims, afternoon naps in hammocks, nights of slow, lazy sex on outdoor beds while waves crashed below. Layla and Zara took turns with Adeyemi one humid evening soft kisses, wandering hands, laughter when someone’s hair got tangled in a necklace. Karim watched from the edge of the pool, smiling, then joined when Adeyemi crooked a finger.

No rush.

No performance notes.

Just bodies moving in the dark, under stars that felt closer here than anywhere else.

Back in Dubai she kept her real life separate bookshelves, quiet mornings, the occasional message from Leke that still made her smile.

Saw your new scene with Karim. You look… free.

She replied: I am.

One evening after a long shoot she stood on her balcony in a silk robe, city lights glittering below. Her phone buzzed Karim.

Santorini again next month? Just us. No cameras this time.

She typed back.

Green.

Then she set the phone down, let the night air move across her skin, and felt for the first time in years completely at home in her own desire.

No more locked doors.

No more bans.

No more shame.

Just her choosing every frame, every touch, every horizon.

And somewhere far away, Lagos kept breathing.

But here, under desert stars, Adeyemi was finally living the story she had always deserved.

To be continued…