Bad Actor

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

I high-five Gustav as everyone talks among themselves, reassuring him, “It’s just jitters and a worm in your ear, don’t listen to it.”

  “No, it was your woman, actually. At the bar. Telling me the play left her underwhelmed apart from the acting. The concept she said, it didn’t affect her.”

  “That’s because she’s with me. She’s used to warts and all. Let’s give it to them, shall we?”

  “Fucking yeah.”

  The power of collaboration… you can rehearse for weeks and weeks and suddenly, you have a new viewpoint, and a slight twist… you’ve got a play for all time to work with.

  “Right fuck off the lot of you, I need to speak to the costume department and beg the cunts that be for more money. Off you go… go fucking sleep or wank, whatever you people do. Back here tomorrow same time for revisions and all that nonsense!”

  We all leave the room and I’m close to texting Lily the news when I decide not to. When she sees the new version, I hope she’s shocked… maybe delighted.

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday, and we’re back in rehearsals – at least I think we are. Gustav, hair on end (a feat seeing as though he has long hair, though the amount of grease in it is telling) is at the front again, pontificating, it seems.

  “Okay, I’ve been up all night and finally have something. A few tweaks here, a few there, but I think we’re good. Costumes should be finalised by Thursday so we can have a full dress rehearsal Friday which means no free time tomorrow, Thursday or Friday guys. I’m requesting you take the revised scripts away today, read through them, relearn, then come back tomorrow ready to put this into action.”

  The whole room groans and a couple of people mutter, “This is bullshit.”

  Everyone was looking forward to an afternoon off on Friday so we could chill out, store some fuel ready for Saturday and mentally prepare for our first proper show. I can’t complain, though. I guess this was all down to Lily, unless in fact he does this with every show… waiting until the last minute to change things and bring everything up to scratch.

  I raise my hand and the room hushes when he bellows, “Yes, Theo.”

  “Can we ask if these changes are wholesale or a few tweaks here and there? Can we see them now, or do we have to leave before we can see them?”

  “Ah fuck you all,” he groans, taking his phone out of his pocket and tapping away on it.

  Within a few minutes, our phones start beeping with new mail and I reach in my pocket for mine.

  There’s a new file with new scripts.

  We’re all madly scanning our devices when he shouts above the quiet mutterings, “We’re doing it in terms of Hamlet slowly becoming insane over Mother Nature’s murder. His father flattened all the land with industrialisation, and when the money was coming in thick and fast, Claudius desired his brother’s riches and took it all for himself. Also, unknowingly, he inherited the cost of wealth when he ascended the throne after his brother – broken land, hungry people… destitution… huge gaps between rich and poor, as will be demonstrated with our clever use of costume and set. Many of the same lines, but many, many more asides. This will be the most radical Hamlet anyone has ever seen. And it won’t be labouring over the issues we want to address… it’ll be so tragically funny, people will only register the pain a few days after viewing.”

  “I think it’s fucking brilliant,” someone says, as I’m desperately trying to skip ahead to discover where my part has changed.

  “Me too,” another agrees.

  “Good, now learn your parts and fuck off, I have to go die in a swamp somewhere.”

  He flies out of the room, weathered denim jacket dangling over one shoulder, his hand holding onto just one sleeve to keep hold of it.

  “You heard the man, hop it!” I demand.

  The studio empties and just one person stays behind to help me close up.

  The woman playing my mother on stage grins. “Why don’t we get a drink? Swot up, so to speak.”

  She’s thirty years my senior and extremely slutty, but as much of an experience as it would surely be, I politely decline, “I’ve got somewhere to be, Verna, see you later.”

  I grab my leather jacket and I’m gone, dust, out of here.

  I have an idea. Seeing as though I can’t spend Friday evening with Lily anymore, I’ll bring the party to her. I can’t bear to be without her… and train journeys are an exceptional opportunity for reading.

  Just gone seven p.m., she calls me on my phone.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “It’s me, divvy.”

  “Ah, you. And what would you be doing this fine evening?”

  We pre-arranged our call this evening.

  Seven p.m.

  “I’m sitting in my kitchen, trying to figure out what to eat… what to eat… I just don’t know.”

  “I might have an idea.”

  I hang up the phone and bang on her door.

  She’s at the door before I know it and the peephole shutter cover scratches across the door as she checks it really is me.

  “Oh my god,” she screams, flings open the door and throws herself at me, arms around me. “You’re here, you’re here.”

  Her kisses are all over my face and I can’t do much to stop her because my hands are full.

  “If you’ll just let me inside.”

  We get inside and I drop all my stuff on the coffee table in the living area.

  “What’s happened?” she asks, nervous. “What’re…”

  Firstly, I take a bouquet of flowers out of one of my bags. “Here, for you. They’re nothing special, just colourful, thought you’d like them.” Her real present today is me… and that rail fare I paid for…

  “They’re lovely, it’s ages since anyone bought me flowers.”

  “Well, get used to it, because I see flowers now, I’m like ‘Lily will want some of those’. Hence train station flowers, I am afraid.” I laugh. She looks at me warily and I explain, “I can only tell you that Gustav has gone mad and wants us all in back-to-back rehearsals for the rest of the week so I thought I’d come now, give you a key, because when you get there on Friday I might still be out at the theatre. I fear I might be out till late as well and I’d really rather not be, but that’s what I’m dealing with, so there we are. Also, I knew you wouldn’t have any decent food in so there’s a Chinese in that other bag for you to microwave.”

  “Fuck that,” she groans. “Take me to bed and ravish me.”

  She’s in my arms without a second thought, only some baggy pyjamas in the way of me getting to her naked flesh. Kissing her as I back her up towards the bedroom, I grab her breast and mutter, “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “Don’t worry, I was fingering myself earlier over thoughts of your toes, even the ugly parts of you I adore.”

  “Shaved and perfumed them just for you, honey.”

  We get on the bed and her top’s off, her boobs are mine and she releases my cock while I’m sucking her nipples raw.

  Wriggling out of her baggy trousers, they’re flung away at the same time as I’m getting my t-shirt off over my head.

  Finally naked and warm together, she arches her back as I push into her molten cunt, slipping in so easily I could cry.

  I wrap my arms underneath her and hold her close, buried in her neck as we rock together slowly, grinding and circling, rolling hips crashing and retreating, our tender movements repeated until I feel her body heat to boiling point, her hips flying up off the bed and my cock savagely milked until I fire into her, the delicious release all the more delicious because she’s wetter than wet.

  She falls back and giggles, her legs locked around the back of me, her arms dangling over the side of the bed.

  “Not done with you yet,” I groan, kissing her full mouth and rocking my still-hard dick into the sugary cornucopia of bliss that is her sopping cunt.

  “I love you,” I groan, as we fuck, kiss and writhe together.

  “Love you,” she whispers, cl
utching my hair.

  I hear her emotion and it immediately calls to me, that tiny tremor in her voice. I cuddle her tight, slide in and out of her slowly while keeping my eyes on hers. She touches my face, takes hold of my hair and kisses me delicately, chastely, even sadly. I groan into her hair, inhale her shampoo, then her perfume and the scent of her cunt. She’s my wonderland, my woman. I nibble her lip and suck gently, my cock slipping out almost all the way, then slowly sliding all the way back into her. The strain shows in her face and she lifts her head back again, her throat tense, biting her own lip. It goes on endlessly as I find no resistance, her cunt drenched through with our cum, our ecstasy, her walls fluttering and agape, open to me. I struggle to make her come as quickly as before so I rub her nubbin gently, circling, flicking. She’s crying out into the room in no time, squeezing and dragging the essence of me out of my body yet again, her orgasm still ongoing long after mine.

  Sweaty and a mess, we huddle together on our sides, her face buried in my chest. After a while I recognise she’s crying and continue to hold her without drawing attention to it. I kiss her forehead and run my hand through her hair, my leg around her body, my arms hers.

  “What’s the matter?” I enquire after a while.

  “Oh, I was just so sad earlier. I’d had this…”

  “Had what?”

  “I fudged something at work today, followed my heart and not my head, bucked procedure and got personally involved with something I shouldn’t have. I was told it was going on my record and it felt like the end of the fucking world.” She takes a deep breath. “Then you come home and it’s all gone. Tomorrow’s another day and it’s all gone, because you’re here.”

  “I’m here, kitten. Yes, I think that’ll be my name for you. Kitten.”

  “Why?” she chuckles.

  “When you sleep your snores are so dainty, like a kitten’s. Plus, your eyes are like a cat’s, haven’t you ever noticed?”

  “Only because I wear make-up!”

  “No,” I contest, “because you can see in the dark when other people can’t. Don’t ever forget that, Lily.”

  She holds me so much tighter. “I need you more than I can say, Theo.”

  “I need you, too.”

  The flat stinks of sex and Chinese food. No matter which room you’re in, the scents are inescapable. A symptom of modern living… in shoeboxes like this, young people like us charged stupid amounts for the pleasure. Still, it doesn’t matter at all. Between eating Chinese and catching up on what’s happened since Sunday afternoon, we’ve found time to screw on the kitchen floor and on the sofa. It was definitely time for a shower after that and now here we are, clean and warm, wrapped up together in bed.

  “I have to get up at six for the train back,” I groan, “sorry, kitten.”

  “It’s okay, just don’t wake me in the morning. Kiss me but don’t wake me. If I’m up before seven I get growly and my nails come out.”

  “I hear you,” I chuckle, holding her even closer.

  “How will we get through the next few weeks? I can’t bear to be without you,” she says, stroking my forearm, her fingers running through the hairs.

  “I know. I feel the same way. Except when I’m working, I don’t kind of have time to think about anything except what Gustav wants.”

  “Poor you.”

  “Aye, poor me.”

  “Why don’t I ask for a transfer to London? It might be exactly what I need. It’ll take a while to come through and then we can be together.” She lifts up and looks down into my eyes, expectant.

  “Isn’t it too soon, Lily? Are we rushing things?” I see her face fall. “It’s not that, Lily. No. I want to wake up with you every day, but I also want to do this properly.”

  “Theo, I’m done with Leeds. I’m done. I need a fresh start.”

  “Then I can’t stop you, honey. Your job, your life, your choice.”

  She grins. “I’ll put the paperwork in tomorrow.”

  I wake during the night wondering if it’s the heat and scent of her, perhaps her bare arse against my cock as we lie spooning… or maybe just my bladder, I eventually realise.

  I sneak away to the loo and relieve myself. Funny that I don’t even have to hold my cock and aim anymore. I’m constantly wearing a semi and it aims itself. I’d say I’m four or five inches flaccid now I think about it, maybe nine or ten fully hard. It’s not really the size though, is it? That’s what they say. It’s what you do with it.

  God, this is a long piss. Must be all the sex.

  I dry myself and give my hands a quick scrub because I honestly don’t know if I’ve been fingering her in my sleep but my hands stink like cunt. Not an abhorrent thing at all, but in a few hours when I board that train, I don’t want to be on it having forgotten to wash my hands in my haste not to miss it. Ah, fuck it. Who am I kidding? I’d better get used to constantly leaking at the thought of her and also having pussy fingers.

  I walk back into the bedroom and she’s moved into her favourite sleeping position – on her front. I know this is her favourite not only because we’ve often discussed the strangeness of feeling comfortable though your major organs are squashed up, but also because whenever we went on group holidays with all the gang, everyone would snap pictures of her perfect arse poking out of the bed in a thong… because she always slept on her stomach. God, even back then I hated how people looked at her and saw her as nothing but sex on legs. I hate the fact Paul has been anywhere near her arse. It makes me feel physically sick thinking about the things they did together and how she must have told him she loved him – and he still fucked her over, didn’t he?

  The green-eyed monster is deep within me, simmering, so if I ever saw him again, I don’t know what I would do. I think I’d kill him, I really think so. I know so. I’d see red, I’d kill him. She’d have to pull me off him, but even then, it’d probably take more power than just hers… they’d have to send in an army to get me off him. I fucking hate the bastard and I hate she ever loved anyone else. I’ve only ever loved her.

  Feeling riled and agitated suddenly, I know there’s only one thing that will quell me now.

  I kneel by the bottom of the bed, take her feet and spread them apart, ducking my head beneath the thin covers on her bed, the nights still hot and the flat cramped and airless.

  She groans and silences just as quickly, still in deep sleep, only mildly disturbed by my wanderings.

  I get to her butt and push my face into her buttock. God, yes. Mine. These are mine. These puffy little mounds of beautiful bum… I want to eat them.

  My eyes aren’t adjusting to the absolute dark of her bed so I have to go by feel and scent, inching my face between her spread legs. I use my thumbs to part her and lick her clit only briefly, waiting to see what she does.

  She does nothing but sleep on, happily.

  This notion of snuffling around her body while she sleeps makes me throb with need, my cock fully hard again.

  For as long as I’ve loved her, I’ve always wanted to lick inside her arse and fuck her there, too. I’ve wanted to explore every bit of her and make her entirely mine.

  There are dark thoughts… dark desires… but they can wait. Once she trusts me enough, that’s when I’ll show her my true self… that’s when she’ll know she’s mine.

  I follow the scent of musk and spread her buttocks open, licking from her vagina to her pucker. She’s still asleep or she’s doing a very good job of hiding it. God, my cock is leaking now and sticking to the sheet… my balls are really tight and heavy, my shaft feels like a huge burden and a massive itch I need to scratch. Still, she’s more important.

  I wriggle my tongue into her arse and a moan escapes her chest. Either she’s sleeping and imagining this is a dream, or she’s halfway between sleep and woke and still isn’t certain.

  The tough muscle of her rosebud becomes eventually softer as I tongue her and taste her. She tastes like Chinese food and fuck. Every inch of her tastes like fuck to
me. You could give me one lick of her little finger and I’d be hard, because she’s pure, unbridled woman to me and I want her in my arms for the rest of our lives.

  In six months if we’re still together, I’ll propose and urge her to stop taking the pill. If we make our twentieth wedding anniversary, I’ll ask her to marry me again and take her round the world like she’s always wanted, once the kids are big enough and we’ve got the liberty to do so.

  She lifts her butt in the air slightly and I’m still wondering if this is an involuntary reaction. I’m not sure. Soon enough though it becomes clear she wants my tongue on her clit more than in her arse.

  I lash her clit with my tongue and she groans loudly, throwing the sheet off herself and getting on all fours. I take the opportunity to ease the pressure in my cock with a few strokes, easing out some precum, then I can’t help but spread her bum cheeks and cover her cunt with my mouth, sucking and licking wildly, owning her, breathing harshly through my nose because everything else has been put to work.

  She’s on her back next, eyes squeezed shut, legs spread wide open, inviting me not to stop. Her hands are in my hair, then her toes are on my shoulders. I flick my tongue wildly around her clit, watching as she almost convulses but somehow holds on. She’s fisting my hair, rocking her cunt against my mouth. Her thighs are sweating and her core is a puddle of lust, slick with desire.

  “God, Theo, god, god,” she groans, “don’t stop.”

  I slip some fingers into the gape of her, her body so ready for my cock that if I wanted to, I could take her, right here, right now… viciously and selfishly fuck her hard, pound her tight cunt and make her wish she never met me, stuffing myself into her hard and unyieldingly.

  But I want to make her come with my tongue because I haven’t done that yet and I want her to come in every way I can make her come.

  “My arse, Theo. Your finger… in my…”

  I want her to have all the pleasure so I push her knees up towards her chest and she responds in just the way I want, holding herself wide open while lifting slightly off the bed.