The Roles We Play: An Erotic Short (The Classics Collection)

“Take off your sweater, Catherine.”

I was pretty accustomed by now to
being ordered to disrobe. It didn’t bother me. Actors are, by nature, exhibitionists. We wander backstage, naked and flaunting out bodies. It’s the only way to survive the scrutiny that’s forced on us daily; the constant judgment of our appearance, our voices, our movements.

I obliged
, removing the thin wool cardigan that had been covering my shoulders. I had no problem feeling confident, as I looked after myself and had a slim, athletic body. My breasts, which were fairly large, were high and perky to the point that more than one fellow actress had asked if I’d had implants.

“Good. Now try
again from where you enter the room. This time, remember that you’re here to seduce Martin.”

I walked to the edge of
the stage, turned and wandered slowly back towards the actor playing Martin, who was sitting on a couch pretending to read a newspaper. The silk slipdress that I was wearing wasn’t intended to be part of my eventual costume but it worked well in the moment, as I could feel it slide fluidly along my flesh as I moved. Amazing how sexy silk can make a woman feel. It shifted lightly over my nipples, making them harden even in the short distance that I covered. I approached the couch, put one stilettoed foot on the coffee table and raised my skirt enough to expose soft, milk-white thigh. Martin was no longer reading the paper.

“Th
at’s it,” beamed our director.

“But I haven’t even said a lin
e yet,” I protested, laughing.

“Doesn’t matter.
You’ve got it. All right everyone. We’ll see you tonight.”

That evening was our dress rehearsal. The play was to run for two weeks, with a possible extension if ticket sales remained strong.
I was hoping it would keep going; I liked the cast and the director, and it paid well after all.

It was the story of a couple
whose marriage was falling apart. I played the wife’s good friend, which implies that I wasn’t a main character. Yet I was on stage most of the time, with Jack, who played Martin. We didn’t have a huge number of lines but ours was meant to be a sort of foil to the main storyline; we were a couple whose life consisted solely of time spent in bed together.

Don’t ever let someone tell you that, when actors kiss, it’s just acting. There’
s always some kind of feeling, whether it’s disgust or passion, or something in between. Sometimes you don’t know how you’ll react until your lips are on the other actor’s; a man who seems repulsive might turn out to make you so wet that you’re almost embarrassed.

When Jack and I first started
working together I liked him immediately. He’s a fine actor and has a great sense of humour. I’ve played quite a few roles where I’ve been asked to kiss a man and, though in past sometimes it’s horrified me a little, when I first saw him I knew that it would be no problem at all. For one thing, he was beautiful. For another, he had amazing lips. Full but masculine.

I’d been cast in the role of sex kitten and he was my counterpart; my gorgeous, glorious lover. His purpose on that stage was to make the women in the audience want him and I knew that he would be
completely successful before he’d even opened his mouth. They’d put him in silk pajama bottoms and a robe which sat open for the duration of the play. His body underneath was sculpted; a smooth chest and hard abs that I was barely able to resist touching at the best of times. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. I was expected to cling to him, to kiss his ear and neck, to stroke whatever parts of him I deemed decent.

It was during the dress rehearsal, the first time we’d really run the show, that things began to get interesting. Though we’d laughed and playfully joked about our pretend
ed intimacy, I hadn’t gotten the impression that Jack was particularly interested in me. He’d worked with many beautiful women, I was sure, and I hadn’t even talked to him about whether or not he had a girlfriend. He also maintained a slightly infuriating professional distance from me during and after rehearsals, which led me to believe that he simply didn’t find me attractive as more than a colleague.

There was a scene in the second act where he and I
were supposed to spend about twenty minutes under a satin sheet in a bed tucked away in the corner of the stage, while the two main characters argue their lives out in the center. We’d never properly rehearsed it and it was always a little unclear whether Martin’s character and mine were meant to be having sexual intercourse or sleeping, and the director had told us to decide for ourselves. It made sense to us that we would be making love; after all that was what our characters were obsessed with, wasn’t it?

We’d decided
that we would improvise the scene each night. It would be dull to go through some choreographed motions  and we didn’t want to seem like an old married couple; we were supposed to be spontaneous and passionate, after all.

During the dress
rehearsal things went smoothly for the first act, and everyone seemed pleased with themselves. After our break, we headed back on stage and Jack and I quietly slipped into the bed. As the two main characters started to spar, I shivered. Jack moved towards me and whispered,

“Cold?”

I nodded.

The designers had made a last-minute decision after seeing me in my silk dress that it would be great for this scene, as a pseudo-nightgown. But it wasn’t as warm as what
I thought I’d be wearing. Jack moved his body towards me and put a large hand around my back, pulling my body in towards him. I was grateful as it did seem to be warming me up. Within moments, though, he began the sexual improv. He turned me onto my back and pushed himself up and over me, leaning in to kiss my neck. I still felt warm. Jack kept kissing me; my face, my mouth, my neck, my chest. He was really going for it, giving his all to the craft, I thought.

After a while he let his arms bend a little under him and lowered his body gently onto mine. I could feel that his cock was hard. He rolled onto his side and I
leaned over and began my part of the dance. I kissed his cheek, his mouth, his chin. Under the covers, I pushed my hands inside the robe that he was still wearing and slid them over his chest, outlining his pectorals with my fingertips, then exploring his strong abs and feeling my way towards his sides. Eventually I couldn’t resist anymore and I let my right hand slide down towards the drawstring of his silk pajamas.

I let
the back of my hand gently, seemingly almost accidentally, touch him through the material. He was still hard and I heard him moan softly. I turned my hand around and squeezed his thick cock, which made him moan again. Finally, with my fingertips I undid the drawstring. I slipped my fingers down the front of his pajamas and felt the head of his penis eagerly rise up to meet them. There was a little wetness at its tip; it was preparing itself for what was to come.

Jack, meanwhile, had decided to return the favour. With one hand he pushed my skirt up, stroking my thigh as he went. I kept my fingers on him, stroking the length of his shaft gently in hopes of slightly torturing him. His fingers meanwhile made their way to the inside of my thigh and eventually to my pussy, which he seemed delighted to find was bare and very, very wet. He began to massage me, moving his fingers gently all around my lips, delighting in the
shape and the swollen flesh.

“I want to eat this,” he whispered, grinning.

“Good,” I said. “I want to eat this.” I gave his cock a gentle squeeze.

“You’ll get your chance
,” he said.

Giving in to momentary selfishness, I turned to lie
on my back and let him continue to play with me. By now one set of fingers was making its way around my pussy as the other hand began to focus on my clit. I realized suddenly that he intended to make me come.

“Oh God,” I whispered as softly as I could. “Are you really doing this to me?”

“Fuck, yes.”

His fingers moved in a gentle circular motion, warming my clit and giving me unbearable pleasure. I finally took my hand from his cock and put my fingers on my left nipple, which was as hard as a rock. Jack took the hint and leaned in and
down, using his mouth to push the silk covering my right breast out of the way and getting his mouth on my right nipple. His tongue flicked it in a sort of a tease, up and down, side to side, as I felt as though I were going to burst. He then moved over to my left and did the same, finally stopping to suck on it. Back and forth between the two, dividing his time equally while he continued to pleasure me. I couldn’t take it anymore. My body started to shudder in ecstasy as I came for him. I almost laughed, wondering what we looked like from behind, to the director and the audience.

I wondered if I would have time to return the favour, when suddenly I realized that I was hearing the line that was our cue to get up. Jack and I smiled at one another in our dark corner and, after carefully making sure that our clothes were in place, we slid out of the bed and headed backstage.
 

When the rehearsal had ended and we were throwing our coats on
he walked up and said,

“Same time tomorrow night?”

“Sounds pretty fucking good to me.”

The next night was Opening. Tensions and excitement ran high already because there would be a good-sized audience; the play had been widely advertised and we knew there was a buzz. I wasn’t particularly nervous. Just excited to get back into that bed.

The first act seemed to drag on
while I anticipated what was coming, though I had fun coming out and doing my seductive routine for Jack, knowing what had happened the previous night, knowing that he knew what I wasn’t wearing under my costume. When I lifted my skirt for him, I deliberately leaned in and angled my knee towards him so that he could see my glistening pussy lips from his spot on the couch. His character, Martin, was supposed to appear delighted and to put his newspaper down. Suddenly I was aware that Jack wasn’t acting; not even close. His eyes fixed themselves on that spot between my legs and I knew the second act would be something memorable again.

When we slipped under the sheets this time, I was all business. I’d loved what he’d done for me the night before but I was determined to give back this
time. I crawled on top of him and squeezed him with my thighs on either side of his torso. I didn’t care if I was sitting up too tall for the audience; we were mostly in shadow anyhow. I didn’t even mind when my strap slipped down and I could tell that my full breast was peeking out, revealing the warm pink of my aureola. As long as Jack was hard I couldn’t have cared less.

And he was. His cock eagerly awaited me again, and I let myself descend onto him through his pajamas, rubbing my wetness on his shaft. I could hear him breathing rapidly, ecstatic an
d frustrated at the sensation.

“Do you feel how wet I am?” I asked.

“God, yes.”

I smiled and slid off of him, letting my right hand glide towards the tie of his bottoms again, and undid them. This time, I
opened the pajamas completely and let myself back up, disappearing under the covers.

“Oh. My.
Fucking. God.”

My mouth stopped briefly as my lips parted to meet his shaft, and I kissed it a few times, guiding myself down to his balls. I licked them for a few seconds,
then sucked gently as I felt him grow ever harder. Then I decided that I was being cruel and moved my face towards the head of his cock. I put my lips around it and sucked, ever so gently, as a means to tease him. Then I leaned in and allowed myself to take his entire cock in, moistening it all the way down and causing him to gasp. I was eating him properly now.

With my right hand I stroked his shaft up and down, as I let my tongue explore the head and tip of his cock. As I felt him tighten after a time, I took all of him into me and felt him come explosively. It was delicious in every possible way. I wanted to devour him, and was also gleefully aware of how important it was for me to swallow every drop so that he didn’t have to spe
nd his next scene embarrassed.

I lay back down next to him and he turned to
me and smiled, saying “thanks.”

“My pleasure.
Really.”

He put his hand up my skirt and I thought we might have a quick repeat of the previous night’s activities, but as is so often the case with theatre, things were moving at a slightly more frantic pace tonight and we had to stop all of a sudden. My disappointment was minimal though; I enjoyed giving and
his manhood was like a special treat to me.

This went on for the full two weeks; every night was something new. On the fourth night, when the rhythm and timing of the play seemed to have settled, Jack decided to crawl under the sheets
himself and to eat me out. I’d been waiting for this and he didn’t disappoint me. I’d had his lips on me enough to know how soft they were and he somehow managed to use them to manipulate all the most sensitive parts of my pussy lips. He used his tongue at first to flick gently at my clit, which was a torment of pleasure. I could feel myself getting more and more wet and swelling as though my body were trying to get closer to his mouth. I put my fingertips around my nipples, squeezing them gently and letting myself stroke the tips so that my brain couldn’t figure out whether to be more stunned by them or by what was happening between my legs.