“How would you fix it?” the writer asked, ready to take notes.

“It never hurts to spell it out. Don’t make her lack of a ‘no’ serve as your consent in the story. Enthusiastic affirmation would be a way better policy.”

Max sneered. “Women don’t want a man to ask permission every step of the way. It’ll make him sound like an insecure pussy if he keeps asking, ‘is this okay?’” His tone was mocking.

“I fundamentally disagree.” She kept her tone conversational. “If done correctly, enthusiastic consent is phenomenally sexy.”

Max turned to the producers and said, “I didn’t sign on to do this for it to be taken over by PC feminists. You need to sort this out. Come get me when we can keep moving.”

I was watching the exchange closely, but wasn’t about to jump in to fight her battles for her uninvited. She could handle herself.

When Max was gone, the producers looked at each other and conferred quietly before one of them took the lead.

“We get what you’re saying, and we appreciate your input,” he said. He was clearly trying to placate her. I knew what direction this was going to go. “But we really feel like women would rather see the character be dominant and assertive here.”

The writer said, “This is the first time he’s revealing he’s sexually dominant. We want that to be clear to the audience.”

“Dominant doesn’t mean abusive,” she shot back. “Lucas Steel’s behavior here, the way it’s written, has all the hallmarks of toxic masculinity and none of the characteristics of healthy power exchange.”

Still in his placating tone, the producer said, “I think what she’s trying to say is that we need to make it more clear it’s BDSM and not abuse.”

“It’s a fantasy, though,” another one of the other producers said. “Women like a rape fantasy.”

Melody dropped her forehead to the table and I could practically see Elena reaching for her seemingly endless well of mansplaining patience.

Rather than disemboweling them, she calmly said, “Can I just gently point out, that you’re an all-male producing team, with a male writer, and a male director refusing to listen to an actual real-life woman who is telling you what other actual real-life women want to see? This is what you hired me for. I do this for a living. Women pay me to both act out these fantasies and teach them how to explore them with their partners and I promise not a single one of them will be turned off if you make the consent clear in this scene.”

“Why don’t you show them how you would do it?” I challenged her, breaking the tension before they could dig their heels in. It was one thing to hear her describing things, but once you’d seen her in action, it was impossible to deny she knew what she was talking about.

“I can do that.” She looked at me searchingly.

“Should I grab Max?” the writer asked. The producer nodded, so he ran to retrieve our director from his tantrum.