The Final Act

by Dee, Bonnie

  Slipping his hands between the mattress and her body, Michael cupped her tits.

  “Hey! I thought this was supposed to be a back massage,” she protested.

  “I’m getting there.” He teased her nipples until they were good and hard, then pulled his hands out from under her body and went to work on her shoulders. His hands were warm and so big they spanned most of her back, his fingers digging deep into her muscles and releasing tension she hadn’t even known was there.

  Elena couldn’t hold back her groans of delight.

  “You’ve got a tense little body. Maybe you should take some of Gretchen’s chill pills.”

  “That’s not even funny.” Her words came out in broken bursts as he pummeled her back. “Since she and Jake broke up she’s so withdrawn I have no idea what’s going on with her. She worries me.”

  “I’ve heard everything from Gretchen catching him with some chick to her walking in on a full-blown orgy. What really happened?”

  “She wouldn’t say—not to me. Not even to Denny, and you know how he can pry. Poor girl. I don’t know how much longer she can keep it together.”

  “She’ll get over him. Who hasn’t had to live through at least one bad breakup?” Michael dug into the tense muscle between her shoulder blades, making Elena gasp.

  She quit thinking about Gretchen’s problems and relaxed under his kneading hand, with a blissful sigh.

  Moving farther down the bed, he nudged her legs apart and knelt between them. He massaged her ass and when he reached the juncture of her thighs, Elena’s pussy clenched in anticipation. His thumbs teased along the edge, almost but not quite stroking her sex. He toyed with her until she raised her ass, trying to get the touch she craved. At last he dipped his finger into her wet slit. Her muscles contracted around him.

  “Are you sure this is an official massage technique?”

  “Absolutely, Ms. Colvin. Most of my clients seem to enjoy it.”

  “Carry on, then.” She grinned and closed her eyes.

  He drew her juices toward her clit and circled it. Elena arched her rear even higher to grant him better access.

  He slapped her ass lightly, but hard enough to make it sting. “I could just bite a chunk out of this.”

  A moment later, his mouth was moving over her cheeks, kissing and licking down toward her pussy. She shivered as the stubble on his jaw scraped her sensitive skin. His breath blew hot across her pussy and his tongue delved between the lips.

  Her stomach contracted hard and her sex grew even more slippery and open. Groaning, she pushed back against his mouth.

  “Crazy massage,” she grunted as Michael abruptly pulled away, grasped her legs and flipped her onto her back. He continued sampling her juices and lapping over her clit until she writhed. The steady sweep of his tongue was too intense and suddenly the small pulses of delight exploded in a violent burst of pleasure.

  Elena cried out broken phrases in both English and Spanish. She always lost control of her mouth when she came and spewed out words without even being aware of it. “Ai, fuck! God, Michael que bueno. Te amo.”

  Little quakes continued to percolate through her while her heart slowed and her breathing evened out. She suddenly realized what her last words had been and hoped he couldn’t understand them.

  Michael slid up her body and lay beside her, head propped on his hand. “Bueno, eh? I love your inner Latina. So sexy.”

  She opened an eye and looked at him. “Sí?”

  “Yeah. It’s caliente.”

  “White boys.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Always hot for the foreign pussy.”

  “Wanna find out how much?” He took her hand and guided it down to his straining cock.

  She rubbed her thumb through the moisture gathered at the crown, then gripped his shaft and tugged. Lying on her side, she snuggled close and guided him to her cleft.

  He thrust into her, his hand gripping her ass to hold her steady. His eyes drifted closed as he rocked slowly in and out.

  She loved the sensation of being filled, her body welcomed it and clamped around his cock as if reluctant to let it go. Elena clutched his shoulder. He had such nice shoulders, broad and strong, but not over-muscled. His entire body was lean and wiry, just the way she liked.

  She bore down on his cock, riding him hard until Michael’s groans escalated along with his thrusting, and she knew he was getting close. He might not be vocal like she was, but she could read his non-verbal language.

  He suddenly swooped down on her mouth, his tongue plunging inside as his cock impaled her body. Elena tasted her musk. She sucked his tongue and curled hers around it.

  Michael pulled away from the kiss. His breath blew against her face and he groaned loudly then froze. She felt his cock pulsing inside her and she gripped it hard with her inner muscles.

  He arched his neck, muscles corded and he grimaced in pleasure bordering on pain. She studied his ecstatic expression—unguarded and honest. For a brief moment, Michael’s cool veneer was stripped away, revealing his passion and his vulnerability. She wished he would expose as much of himself when they talked as he did during sex.

  He drew a deep breath, opened his eyes, and blinked when he saw her looking back. “Were you just watching me?”

  “No.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “Maybe a little.” Elena unhooked her leg from his hip and rolled to her back. She stretched, feeling as loose and relaxed as a cat in the sun. Then she turned on her other side and spooned into Michael’s embrace. The post-coital cuddle was one of her favorite parts of sex.

  They lay quietly a long time before she broke the silence. “You still awake?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Is it terribly unprofessional of us getting involved like this?”

  “No more than any other co-workers who date. There’s always a chance it won’t work out and you’ll have to continue to see that person every day.”

  “Except what we do is a little more intimate than sharing office space. All that touching and kissing is what got us into trouble in the first place.”

  “Who says we’re in trouble? Besides, I like all the touching and kissing.” He licked her neck, making her squirm and giggle. “So, we won’t break up and it won’t get awkward.”

  “What happens after the tour?” The question had been haunting her.

  Several moments ticked past. “What do you want to have happen?”

  “I asked you first.”

  He rubbed her stomach and kissed the back of her shoulder. “I don’t know, but I’d like to keep seeing you when we’re back in New York.”

  Elena smiled. He’d said exactly what she’d wanted to hear. “Me, too.”

  “I guess we’ll play it by ear. See how it goes.”

  Hardly a declaration of love, but it was a lot coming from him. Charming or thoughtful he may be, but he always held a portion of himself back while Elena tended to throw herself passionately into relationships the same way she did acting. Her intensity had driven away men in the past, and she was determined not to wreck things with Michael by asking for too much commitment too soon. She could be as nonchalant as he and see how things played out when they got back home.

  Scene Ten: Baltimore

  Denny’s pulse raced as he listened to Tom’s phone ring. He remembered the time he had to give a speech in eighth grade, before he became a stage-hound, back when he was a shy, gawky boy with a bad case of acne and low self-confidence. He’d had nightmares for days leading up to the speech and sweated and stammered his way through it. At the time, he was determined never to have a career that required public speaking. In a way he hadn’t because onstage he didn’t deliver a speech so much as become a character.

  But this phone call was all him. Every word must be carefully chosen. If he said the wrong thing, he could lose Tom forever. His future hung on the next few minutes…if Tom ever picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  Denny was startled. The phone had
rung so many times he’d been expecting voice mail. “Uh, hi.”

  “Denny.” Tom’s voice was level and gave no clue to his feelings. Was he relieved? Angry? Dismissive? Denny couldn’t tell.

  “Hi. How are you?” He felt shy, as if talking to a stranger instead of his own beloved Tom.

  There was a slight pause. “I’m still here.”

  Taking a deep breath, Denny plunged in. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I need to talk to you about what’s going on between us. Or what isn’t.” He gave a sharp laugh. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it completely fucked us up.”

  “I need to tell you something, too,” Tom said quietly.

  Denny’s heart dropped. Here it was. The bullet he’d dodged so far was about to hit him in the heart. “All right.”

  “I haven’t been honest with you about why I didn’t come to Philadelphia.”

  “Yeah?” He could hardly get the word past the lump in his throat, and braced himself to be dumped.

  “I thought I was protecting you, but I’ve done some soul searching these past weeks and realized I was wrong. I wasn’t shielding you, only screwing things up between us really badly.”

  “Protecting me from…?”

  “It’s not what you think.” There was a shimmer of amusement in Tom’s voice. “Denny, you’re so easy to read. There is no one else. I told you that already.”

  “What?” Denny hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he let it go in a whoosh. “You’re… What then?”

  “It’s something else.” Tom paused. “I’m sick.”

  AIDS! Denny’s mind raced, recalling all the unprotected sex they’d had. They were in a committed relationship, they'd been tested, so it had seemed safe. Fear swelled in his gut, and he hated himself for thinking of his own health when Tom had…

  “Cancer?” he asked.

  “Cancer.”

  Denny felt a mingled relief and fresh fear. “Oh my God. How are you? How long have you known? What kind is it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Shortly after I lost my job. Great timing, eh? I’m covered by COBRA, but the premiums are outrageous and I sure as hell can’t get new employment with insurance in my current condition.”

  Denny couldn’t believe he was talking about insurance. “But how are you? Is it bad?”

  “I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d want to come home and be with me. You’d break your contract if you thought I was sick, and I didn’t want to ruin your big chance. I didn’t want you to walk away from it or be distracted worrying about me while you’re on the road. I thought it would be best if I dealt with this on my own.”

  “Jesus, Tom. Tell me how bad.”

  “It’s prostate cancer—stage two. Could be worse.”

  Sudden anger surged through Denny. “Stage two! What does that even mean? How could you keep something like this from me? I can’t believe it!”

  “I know. It was stupid. Of course, I should have told you. The doctor even said to discuss it with family before making my decision, but… I just couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t say it.”

  “And now…” Denny trailed off. If Tom had just told him about this, his fling with Paul never would have happened. Was he actually blaming Tom for his infidelity? “I just wish you’d told me. What’s the treatment plan? Are you going to be okay?”

  “In stage two, the cancer still hasn’t spread to other organs. I elected not to have surgery and I’m on a course of radiation. Now I just have to wait and see if it’s effective.”

  “God, Tom.” Denny was at a loss. The conversation had veered so far from his vision of it: a confession, a blow up, tears and, hopefully, forgiveness. Suddenly they were in the realm of life and death instead of a sexual indiscretion. So much more was at stake there was no way he could confess to Tom about his cheating now.

  “So, that’s what’s really been going on with me.” Tom paused. “How about you?”

  “I was so pissed about you not coming to see me, and here you were going through all this alone.” Denny sidestepped the question. “I’m sorry.”

  “You couldn’t know. It’s my fault. I left you hanging and wondering.”

  It seemed they were going to play the self-blame game.

  “Well, you were right about one thing,” Denny said. “I do want to come home. This is a family emergency. I’m sure I can take some personal days.”

  “Really? If you think you can, I’d like that.” Tom sounded tired, his voice weaker, and lighter than its usual deep bass. “I’ve missed you so much, and there’s still a lot we need to talk about.”

  You have no idea. “I’ll see when I can get some time, then I’ll call and let you know.”

  They talked a little longer about Tom’s health and treatment options, then spoke a few moments about household expenses.

  “Are you doing all right financially? Do you need me to kick in more?” Denny asked.

  “No. Please. You already do more than enough. I’m fine.”

  “There were plenty of times when you carried me. I’m happy to finally be able to take care of you.”

  Tom refused again. He caught Denny up on what was happening in all their friends’ lives before concluding the conversation. “Are we okay then? You’re not still pissed at me?”

  “No. How could I be?” Actually, he was angry that Tom had protected him like a child too young to cope with the truth, but how could he tell him that, especially given his own nasty secret?

  “God, when I think of you handling this all by yourself because you didn’t want to worry me… I’d never be so altruistic. I’d want you by my bedside holding my hand all the way through it.”

  “And I’d want to be by your bedside doing that,” Tom said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” The words felt like sharp rocks in his mouth. “I’m sorry I…didn’t trust you, and I’ll come home just as soon as I can.”

  After ending the call, Denny stared at the phone for several moments. He could almost pretend things were back to normal between them. Except they weren’t. Tom’s illness hung over them like a guillotine blade, and Denny’s secret was right behind it, ready to cut if the first blade missed.

  Scene Eleven: Fallout

  Gretchen sat on a chair in the Green Room and waited for places to be called. She was dressed and ready to go. No one could fault her for not being ready. She’d made sure of that ever since the day she’d overslept. The other cast members moved around the room, chatting and laughing. She felt like a mossy rock in the middle of a rushing stream. They all seemed too busy, too fast, while she was calm and solid. Nothing could affect her. Anxiety was held at bay by an invisible force field called Xanax.

  What would she do when her supply ran out now that she no longer had Jake? No longer had Jake, her mind repeated several times, testing the sound of it. Maybe Steve or Rashid could hook her up.

  Gretchen rejected the memories that kept trying to intrude on her peaceful state. She wouldn’t allow herself to remember the sight of Jake lying on his bed, locked in a half-naked embrace with another woman. Gone. Banished. The picture was expelled from her mind. This was a new era—life post-Jake. Very much the same as life pre-Jake, except now she was aware of the piece missing from her life. There was a huge, Jake-shaped hole in it.

  Corralling her thoughts, she concentrated on running lines. It was another opening night in another city. Which one, she couldn’t even remember. The itinerary of their trip had become one long blur of cheap hotels, smelly Green Rooms and sweating under the spotlights. But it was her job to inject fresh enthusiasm into her performance each time, even when all she felt like doing was curling up under a blanket and sleeping the rest of her life away.

  “Are you all right?” Renée stopped beside Gretchen’s chair and brushed her hair back from her face. “You look so pale. I have a cover-up stick I could lend you for those circles under your eyes.”

  Gretchen glared at her. “Th
ank you. I think my make-up is fine.”

  “Well…all right. If that’s what you think.” Renée’s mouth puckered. She started to walk away then turned back. “By the way, you need to enunciate better during our argument. When you deliver your lines so fast, the audience only catches my half.”

  The hair on her nape actually rose as she watched Renée walk away. If she were a cat, her claws would be extended, ready to rip the bitch a new one. Gretchen tried to resume her peaceful state, relaxing her clenched hands and closing her eyes. It was useless. Renée’s comments had opened the door, allowing self-doubt and tension to creep back in.

  She walked from the Green Room, heading for the back exit for some fresh air. When she walked through the door, the humid, late summer air hit her like a wet washcloth to the face. The door screeched closed, announcing her arrival. All the smokers in the alley looked up.

  There was Jake, lounging against the wall, a cigarette, or maybe a joint, between his fingers. He gazed at her from under ragged bangs and blew a thin stream of smoke from between his lips.

  Gretchen felt gut-punched. Of course he was there, as she’d known he would be, but it was like being drawn to a traffic accident—part of her had wanted to see him. She froze in the doorway, the memory of the night she’d caught him cheating crashing over her like a tsunami.

  She’d barely knocked before entering his room, which had pretty much become “their” room with Rashid off somewhere most of the time. It took several long moments of staring at Jake and the woman lying together for Gretchen to process what she was seeing. What’s wrong with this picture?

  Then she’d surged toward the bed, cursing and screaming, hitting at both of them and pulling the girl’s hair. She’d clawed at the bitch like a tigress claiming her mate, and all the while a voice of reason inside told her, “It’s not her fault. He’s the cheater.”

  The shocked girl grabbed her shirt, covering her breasts, and fled from the room while Gretchen raged at Jake, clichés pouring from her mouth. “How could you?” “Why?” “Don’t you love me?” She was humiliated to even hear herself ask, “What did I do wrong?” As if any of it was her fault!