One evening, as we sat at the dining table after dinner, my husband leaned in with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “I have an idea,” he said, his voice brimming with conviction. “What if we started our own adult film production company?”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking. But he wasn’t. He had thought it through—meticulously. He explained how the industry had evolved, how independent creators were making millions without relying on big studios. “We wouldn’t have to be in front of the camera unless we wanted to,” he assured me. “We’d be in charge—directing, producing, hiring the right talent. Think of it like any other business, but with way higher profit margins.”

I sipped my wine, processing his words. He spoke of financial freedom, of creative control, of a world where we dictated the rules. He even envisioned branding the company as something unique, something artistic—classy, high-end productions rather than just raw, meaningless content.

I watched him as he spoke, fascinated by his enthusiasm but also questioning his deeper motivations. Was this truly about business, or was there an unspoken desire behind it? Would stepping into this world bring us closer, or would it open doors we might struggle to close?

I leaned back in my chair, running my fingers along the rim of my glass. “And tell me,” I finally asked, “what exactly would our first film be about?”