There are many kinds of horror film. There’s ones with zombies and skinwalkers and chainsaw wielding maniacs who are always right behind you. There’s the subgenre of torture porn that had its heyday in the first decade of this century. There’s ones that rely overmuch on jump scares.

And then there’s my favorite type; the psychological thriller. The ones where you go into it not sure what to expect, and halfway through the movie you’re still not entirely sure what’s going on, what the threat is, or if there even is a threat at all, but the tension’s been steadily building and you can feel in your bones that something’s not right. You get invested in it, and hold on until the bitter end, letting yourself be terrorized because you need that final resolution that inevitably comes only in the last five minutes of the film. Or worse/better, never comes at all, and leaves you with a deep seated feeling of unease.

That’s a feeling I want to give my partner during a darker scene. We both know what the resolution is meant to be, because it’s been prenegotiated and consented to. But I still relish devising anything I can to create that tension and doubt along the way - a muttered threat she can’t be sure she heard; an unexpected change in location or position; gestures that draw her attention and leave her wondering what may or may not be in my pockets; delaying the inevitable long enough that she begins to wonder if it’s going to happen at all. It adds unease, menace, even dread, all of which lead to uncertainty. And uncertainty is one of my favorite territories to play in.

By the time the scene reaches its climax, I want the feeling of resistance to what’s happening to be mixed with a certain amount of relief that the uncertaint is at last resolved. And, in turn, I want that to leave her bothered with herself for feeling relief over receiving what she’s not supposed to want.