After he’d gone she curled up on the sofa and thought about him at length. She’d known right from the beginning that there was no future in it. What she hadn’t expected was for her body to get so used to him and to need him so badly. ‘Never mind’, she told herself consolingly. ‘We’ll be on the road for several months; you won’t be losing him just yet.’
It was some comfort to her, especially when she thought about the West End director and what he’d probably expect from her if she was to get the coveted role he’d promised her. Still, it was all part of the business and at the end of the day Ellie was a professional through and through. Sex with Damon was fantastic, but the dream of holding a West End audience in the palm of her hand was even better.
Chapter Seven
Christopher arrived at Esther’s house in North London full of eager anticipation. Although he’d left behind him a very irritable Rebecca and a somewhat confused Theresa, he was in no doubt that he’d done the right thing. If he was to make Esther his full-time girlfriend by the end of the company’s tour then he had to start soon and tonight seemed the perfect opportunity. He hoped that Esther would be as eager as he was, and when she opened the door to him wearing an ankle-length tight-fitting black wool skirt coupled with an ivory, long-sleeved crepe blouse with a long strand of false pearls round her neck and deliriously high-heeled black shoes on her feet, Christopher felt certain he was right. He smiled admiringly at her. ‘You look great.’
She smiled back at him, albeit a little awkwardly. ‘I thought it might help to keep me in the character of Kay,’ she explained. ‘It’s rather like costume drama: once you get into these tight skirts you walk differently and hold yourself differently and it does make me feel in the period.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Christopher enthusiastically. ‘In Acts I and III, when I’m wearing my uniform, I really do feel like a soldier. I find the middle act far more difficult though.’
‘That’s because it isn’t really you,’ said Esther. ‘You do it brilliantly but really and truly it’s hard to think of you as a seedy drunk, let alone a total failure.’
Christopher was not immune to any kind of flattery, in fact he lapped it up. ‘That’s very kind of you. I certainly do my best,’ he said, strolling round the living room and examining the books on the shelves. ‘Are all these yours?’
‘No, most of them belong to Marcus,’ explained Esther.
‘I thought so. He’s very into Stanislavski, isn’t he?’
‘He certainly uses parts of Stanislavski’s theory; he calls himself a Stanislavskian purist. According to Marcus, modern-day drama teachers have distorted Stanislavski’s original theories.’
Christopher yawned. ‘Well, don’t let’s get bogged down talking about what Marcus likes or doesn’t like. We’re here to discuss your acting.’
‘Before we begin, would you like a drink?’ asked Esther.
‘Sounds a good idea,’ agreed Christopher. ‘Got any whisky?’
Esther didn’t have much whisky and hoped he wasn’t intending to drink it steadily throughout the evening. ‘Of course,’ she said quickly. ‘What do you like with it?’
‘Nothing, unless it’s a very inferior one,’ Christopher retorted.
‘No it’s a good malt. Someone gave it to Marcus, only he’s not that keen on whisky.’
‘Fine, then I’ll have it as it stands.’
‘Not even ice?’ asked Esther. /
‘No, nothing with it at all thanks. Now then,’ he continued as she handed him his drink, ‘I’ve been trying to work out exactly where you’re going wrong. In Acts I and III you’re not too bad and I’m sure that once you get an audience you’ll be fine. It’s the middle act that’s really giving you trouble, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Esther. ‘I suppose I find it difficult to understand what’s really happening. Is Kay’s vision the truth or is it simply a foolish dream brought on by overexcitement, as her mother suggests at the end of the play?’
‘I believe you’ve got to leave that to the audience to decide,’ said Christopher.
‘But what was the playwright’s intention?’ asked Esther.
‘We can’t ask him, can we?’ laughed Christopher. ‘He’s dead and gone.’
‘But what do you think it was?’ Esther persisted.
‘What I think doesn’t really matter,’ Christopher explained. ‘It’s what you believe that’s going to make the difference. Tell me, why is it such a problem to you?’
‘I suppose because Kay is a realist. She comes across as sensible and intelligent.’
‘In that case it isn’t likely to be an hysterical piece of girlish nonsense, is it?’
‘No, but I do have a problem with this vision. It’s all so bleak. Not only does everyone fail – apart from Ernest Beevers – but poor Carol dies. It does seem that this family are going to have rather more than their share of bad luck.’
‘I think what it represents,’ said Christopher carefully, ‘is how things are going to change for everyone, not just the Conways. Clearly Priestley uses the Conway family to epitomise the changes that the next twenty years are going to show and if you analyse it then, yes, they probably are more unlucky than it would be reasonable to expect. But if it’s done well no one’s going to think that. They should, hopefully, just feel a terrible sense of impending tragedy, especially since Act III ends on a high note with Kay desperately hoping that it has all been a dream. That gives the audience a chance to hope if they want to, doesn’t it?’
‘So what I talk about in Act II,’ said Esther slowly, ‘is the truth. Ernest Beevers is going to get rich and treat Hazel abominably. Carol is going to die. Robin’s going to become a hopeless alcoholic who never does anything, they’re going to lose their family money, Alan will become some kind of weird recluse, and Madge will end up a frustrated school teacher. As for Gerald, well he becomes so pompous and unpleasant he’s hardly recognisable from the agreeable young man in the first act.’
‘But that’s what life does to people, isn’t it?’ said Christopher, surprisingly gently. ‘Just think about your own life, Esther. Think of yourself at say fifteen and how you imagined you’d be at the age of twenty-four. Has it turned out the way you expected? Is this where you thought you’d be?’
Esther thought hard for a moment. ‘No, of course not. At fifteen I was madly in love with a boy I played tennis with. I was sure that we were going to get married, have three children and live happily ever after.’
‘What an old-fashioned little thing you must have been,’ said Christopher. ‘Weren’t you passionately in love with some pop group?’
‘No,’ confessed Esther. ‘I suppose I was horribly conventional.’
‘And are you still?’ asked Christopher meaningfully.
Esther’s eyes met his and her heart began to race. ‘Not in the least,’ she assured him.
‘Well, there you are then, my point exactly. Life doesn’t go the way any of us expect, and although the changes in the Conways’ lives are perhaps overdramatic that shouldn’t prove such a big problem for you as it is at the moment. When I was going through the text I decided that, if you can manage to tie Act II into Act III better, then the sense of tragedy will be all the stronger.’
‘Tie it in where?’ Esther asked.
‘It’s very near the end. Look, here you are.’ They were sitting side by side on the sofa and Christopher leant across her to turn the pages of the play. She was acutely aware of his physical nearness. ‘See here, the next to last page. It’s when Kay wants Alan to comfort her, the way he did in her vision. You know, you’re almost willing him to do it so that you get proof that what you think you saw is going to happen.’
‘Yes, I’ve got it here,’ said Esther.
‘Right, now you have to quote a piece of Blake and I think that when you quote it you should take a little longer over remembering the words because, let’s face it, it was in the previous act that Alan said it and you’re struggling to rem
ember, right?’
‘Agreed,’ confirmed Esther.
‘OK, then, so you take longer than you have been to think about it and then when you do quote it, break it up more. I don’t mean the verse; I mean let your voice break slightly at the terrible sorrow of it all. I’d like to hear you give it a go. Start with just the two lines: “Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul divine.”’
‘Do you want me to stand up?’ asked Esther.
‘Perhaps you could stand in the middle of the room facing me. Imagine that Alan is slightly to your right so you turn that way, but only a fraction of a turn. Remember, I’m the audience and we need to get a good look at you as well.’
Esther obeyed him and said the lines. She said them the way she’d been saying them at rehearsals but here, after listening to Christopher, she was absolutely aghast at how dead they sounded.
‘Right, that’s the way you have been doing it. What I want you to do now is break it up so that after “joy” you have a break and then perhaps you could say “and woe are” and then look away or let your voice crack slightly before you say “woven fine”. Then you could almost rush through “a clothing for” and then stop and search for the last few words before ending with “the soul divine”. Try it like that.’
Esther obeyed and instantly it was totally different. It was the first time that she’d felt any true emotion when she said the words and, after she’d finished, a smile spread over her face.
‘Great,’ said Christopher, ‘a big improvement. Now let’s tackle the last two lines: “And when this we rightly know, safely through the world we go.” Try and break that up in your own way now that you’ve got the hang of it.’ Esther did, and after a couple of false starts was delighted with the result.
‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Christopher. ‘OK, now when you’ve finished that, if you remember, you have to repeat the last line: “safely through the world we go”. Now, considering the way you’re doing the first part, let me hear how you think you should deliver that final line.’
‘Do you think it would be all right if I went through the whole thing?’ queried Esther. ‘I think if I do the first four lines and then repeat the last one I’ll get the feel of it much better.’
‘Anything to make you happy,’ said Christopher.
Esther was so caught up in her part that she didn’t seem to realise quite what he was saying, but Christopher still felt quietly confident about the evening. He watched with interest as she delivered Blake’s verse and, when it came to the repetition of the final line for the very first time, he felt genuinely touched by what she was saying.
‘That was a huge improvement,’ he said enthusiastically.
‘It felt quite different,’ said Esther with delight. ‘Perhaps I can do this after all.’
‘I never doubted that you could. It was only your own inhibitions holding you back,’ said Christopher.
‘Well, I’ll make sure I discard them for the rest of the evening,’ said Esther, and she gave him a tiny smile.
For the next half-hour they continued to work on the play and by the end of that time both of them knew that Esther’s performance was now entirely different. ‘Let’s take a break,’ Christopher said at last. ‘I think I’d like a coffee, how about you?’
‘That sounds great,’ agreed Esther. She was already on a high from the excitement of finding out exactly what she could do with the part now that she felt artistically free. She made them both coffee, put some chocolate biscuits on a plate and took them back into the lounge. She went to sit in an armchair but he patted the seat next to him. ‘What are you doing going over there?’ he queried.
‘I don’t know,’ confessed Esther.
Christopher wondered if she was deliberately playing hard to get or whether he’d been wrong, but then, as she cast a quick glance at him from beneath lowered lashes, he decided that his original thoughts had been the right ones. Esther was definitely attracted to him. As he tried to wonder what she’d be like in bed he felt his excitement growing.
After they’d drunk their coffee Esther reached for the play again but Christopher put a hand over her wrist. ‘I think we’ve done enough work on that for the evening,’ he said quietly.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Esther.
‘I think I’d like to spend some time getting to know you better,’ said Christopher. ‘It’s been pretty hectic these last few weeks.’
‘It certainly has,’ she agreed, settling back into the sofa.
Christopher turned towards her and then he started to unfasten the buttons of her V-necked blouse. He did it very slowly, and Esther held her breath when he reached the final one. With exquisite care, he eased the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms before draping it over the side of the sofa. She was now sitting in the long, tight black skirt and high-heeled shoes but, incongruously, the only things that she had on her upper body were a cream satin camisole and a long strand of pearls, which ended just at the start of the cleft between her rounded breasts.
Christopher, who was wearing a pair of jeans and a heavy cotton shirt, quickly began undressing. He turned around and carefully lifted the lower edge of Esther’s camisole until the top of her stomach was revealed. Then, he very lightly drew the palm of his hand over the exposed flesh, drawing the hand backwards and forwards in a way that was somehow hypnotic.
He watched as Esther’s eyes closed and her head went back. Emboldened by this Christopher, while continuing to massage the tiny piece of exposed flesh, moved closer and allowed his lips to travel around the sensitive points of her collarbone. Then, very slowly, he allowed himself to lick the skin within the circle of pearls.
He moved very carefully and could tell by the small sighs she was uttering that this was to Esther’s liking. Next, he began to kiss her nipples and the surrounding areolae but he did it through the satin of the camisole, licking and blowing alternately until she was squirming helplessly beneath him.
For Esther it was not only a triumph but sheer delight as well. For some reason she’d expected him to be a more hasty lover and this incredibly slow build-up was highly erotic. Eventually, after further stroking and licking, Christopher helped her to remove her skirt and then slid a hand beneath the wide leg of her French knickers. To her surprise, he didn’t go anywhere near her pubic mound but instead concentrated on stroking the flesh of her groin and then moving upward to draw tiny circles on her hipbones. It was all so delicate and unexpected that it had the effect of heightening her desire even more. She could hear herself uttering tiny whimpers of pleasure and knew that she was wriggling, desperately trying to get him to touch her more intimately but, instead, he continued his slow steady arousal in his own way.
It seemed to her that this provocative stroking and touching, which was heightening and strengthening her desire with every second, was never going to end but, eventually, she heard him mutter in her ear, asking where the bedroom was. He was careful to keep one arm tightly round her as she led him through to the room where she and Marcus had shared such passionate times.
There was no chance for her to dwell on this thought, though, because Christopher immediately removed the last items of her clothing and then, very gently, he stepped away from her for a moment and removed his own so that at last they were both naked. Together they moved on to the bed, and Esther positioned herself above him as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, occasionally pushing her back from him a little so that he could stare into her eyes. He felt as if his own were full of affection and desire.
‘I want to know every part of you,’ he whispered. ‘I want to lick you all over. I want to drive you mad with desire.’
‘You have already,’ gasped Esther.
It was the truth but, although she half-wished for him to hurry up and enter her, there was another part of her that wanted this teasing to go on even longer. It was clear that Christopher was in no rush and that he enjoyed tantalising her in this way. Suddenly he wrapped his arms about her
and started rolling around on the bed. Such close physical contact was bliss and Esther felt her arousal reach an even higher level. Her breasts felt swollen, her cheeks were flushed, and there was an ache between her thighs. Eventually Christopher positioned Esther on her back, raised her knees and then parted her legs so that he could kneel between them. Then he put his hands beneath her waist and lifted her up so that he could use his tongue on her stomach and ribcage while his fingers kneaded softly down the sides of her body. Esther was reaching such a peak of physical longing that she wasn’t sure how much of this gentle foreplay she could stand. She hadn’t realised how many nerve endings there were in her skin. Clearly, Christopher did know and was determined to stimulate them all.
After what seemed an eternity he finally allowed his mouth to move between her thighs and then used his hands to part her sex lips. Suddenly his tongue was moving much more firmly as he ran it in long strokes along the moist inner flesh. When he first touched her clitoris in this way, Esther gave a groan of relief and her hips jerked upwards as she tried to press her pubic mound against his face. She desperately needed some kind of pressure there and Christopher, clearly understanding this, used the palm of one hand and pressed firmly against her pubic bone. After a few seconds he began to rotate the palm of his hand so that beneath his slippery tongue the clitoris itself was moved and the combination resulted in a sudden shockingly abrupt climax that took Esther by surprise. The moment it had ended Christopher continued to lap around the entrance to her sex, not even giving her a short breathing space, and Esther uttered a small sound of protest.
‘It’s all right,’ said Christopher, ‘I know what I’m doing.’
Esther felt so unbearably sensitive between her thighs that she wasn’t sure he was right. All at once though, she felt her flesh start to tighten again and her belly quaked as he inserted the point of his tongue into her moist opening. He ran it delicately around the inside while with one hand he pressed hard on her lower abdomen. Again, because all her senses were at feverpitch, Esther was startled by a short sharp climax that was so intense it was almost painful. She could hear herself breathing rapidly now and at the same time she was uttering tiny mewling sounds which she’d never done before. She wanted to ask Christopher to stop and yet, perversely, she longed for him to continue, to see exactly what would happen if he carried on this way.
Dramatic Affairs Page 13
