With This Ring, I Thee Bed. Alison Tyler
plying me open, nudging at the perfect spot that Keith had never reached. But just as I was coming and our bones were jolting hard and the bed was rocking savagely, I woke quite suddenly and found Keith upon me, sweating like an animal, no tenderness, no kiss. I cried out, but he didn’t stop rutting, eyes half closed in the darkened room. “Christ,” he groaned, pelvis slamming down, as he came at my ear with a long, loud moan. At last he rolled off me, groaning with pleasure, and my insides twisted as I saw his proud grin. “See, baby?” he said. “We can screw when we’re not fighting.” And the saddest thing was the kindness in his voice.
The following evening, I stood in Jake’s kitchen as he poured us amaretto. Aroused by our rehearsal, I’d chosen thigh-high stockings, and I kept on flushing at the thought that he might guess. “I’m serious,” he said, with a shy smile. “If we don’t have some alcohol, I won’t be able to do it.”
Amazed at his coyness, which seemed so out of character, I took the glass and asked why he was nervous.
“It’d be fine if you and I weren’t attracted, but.” He shook his head, as if he’d said too much, then raised his drink and downed it. He widened his eyes as he swallowed. “Fuck it, you’re hot.”
I sidled in next to him and said I felt the same.
He laid a hand on my arm. “What would your guy say if he knew you were here?”
“He’d probably throw me out.”
With both hands, Jake smoothed back my hair. “Because we’re rehearsing a sex scene?” I nodded, smitten. “Can’t say I blame him.” His words smelled of almonds. “If you were mine, I’d be just as possessive.”
I wanted to tell him what life with Keith was like—how the sex made me feel cheap, how we rarely shared affection—but the scent of the liqueur on Jake’s warm breath made me lose my thread. It seemed like years since I’d kissed a man, like decades since I’d felt this way for anyone. All I could think of was his mouth on mine. “Why don’t we start?” I asked.
“What? You mean, now?” “Why not? We’re in position.”
With a boyish laugh, he began to walk me backward. “We need something to lean against, remember?” I felt the countertop behind me, felt him pressing up against me.
“That’s better,” I sighed.
“No warm-ups needed.”
His thigh touched mine. His scent drowned my senses. His hands slid down my sides. “So I pull your veil off—” he said, miming just that “—and throw it on the ground … like this … and now.” But all the while, he held my gaze, and I pulled him up against me so I was sandwiched there. He cupped my face.
“Just a stage kiss,” I told him. “Sure,” he said, and he kissed me.
His mouth was wet and sweet with amaretto. I leaned into him, sensing him there, firm beneath his sweater, warm against my chest, and when I felt his tongue I wasn’t surprised, just grateful. Our kiss was seamless, and he moved with ease, raising my thigh, pressing against me. The sudden feel of him between my legs made my body jolt, and I gasped a little, astonished at my need. His hand slipped higher till he found my stocking tops, and then I felt him lunge against my core. The shape of his hard-on dug against my clit and I felt a sudden desperation. “I want you,” I whispered, as he kissed along my neck. “Let’s get it out of the way.”
Suddenly, he stepped back, eyes jerking open. His hair was tousled, his cheeks red. “What does that mean, baby?”
I caught my breath.
“Are you saying once we’ve fucked, you won’t want me anymore?”
“It’s just there’s all this heat between us! Keith need never know…. Once you and I have … done it … this won’t be such an issue.”
He held his head, turning from me. “Dan told me about your man,” he said. “He doesn’t deserve you. But I won’t be a one-time screw. It’s not the way I work.”
“You’re saying you want to date me?”
He spun around. “Of course I do. Why does that surprise you?”
I must have looked astonished, but he still strode up, pushing against me, his hands on the countertop behind. “Is this just an act for you? Being with me like this? Are you faking, like you do with that man of yours at home?”
I told him no. This was genuine. I wanted him.
“How genuine?” he said. “You wanna go to dinner?”
“Maybe,” I said, but I was so damn wet that I foolishly added, “afterward, perhaps.”
“You mean after you’ve used me.”
“That came out wrong.”
He lurched away from me, turning on his heels, walked to the kitchen door and pulled it wide. “Tell you what,” he said coolly. “Think on it. You want to date me, let me know.”
I was floored. “But … our rehearsal?”
“This was never a rehearsal.” The righteous anger in his eyes made me feel ashamed. Still hopelessly in lust, I walked from the room.
“I really am sorry,” I said.
The following weeks, our rehearsals were steamy, not the least because of the tension that sparked between us. Returning to the drawing board, Dan marched us through the sex scene, directing each movement in detail. He’d tell Jake he was throwing the veil too far. “If it falls from the stage we’re stuffed.” And he’d urge him to be more tender. “Frankly, you look angry, hon … is there something wrong?” I was forced to endure Jake’s body on mine, his fingers creeping up my thigh. My skirt would ruche when he raised my leg and pressed himself close. I’d sigh, eyelids heavy, as our bodies fell together, a stiletto dangling from my foot; and through my shirt I’d feel his free hand, clutching, slipping lower, gripping firmly….
“Dollface, that’s perfect,” praised Dan from down below. “But moan a little louder. Project!“ And I’d suddenly realize I’d been trying to keep things quiet, worried that the others would guess I was aroused.
Worst of all was the thrusting. Jake would lunge between my thighs, both of us groaning, and I’d push against his hardness. I’d grow ever wetter, my sex burning up, the scent of him making me drowsy. The contortions I tried for just a moment of his hardness seem crazy to me now; and every time I felt his sex on mine, I’d gasp and slam the wall.
“Lovely, Terri!” Dan would shout. “Sweet Jesus, this is hot!”
When Dan first praised us like that, I realized Jake was laughing. “What is it?” I whispered.
“I’ve never received such kudos for a bit of dry humping.”
Embarrassed, I said I was sorry. He winked. “I’m not.”
Then came dress rehearsals. Which meant undressing. The crowded little room behind the stage was dusty and lined with benches. We could hardly fit all four of us in, and there was no separate place for the women to undress. Plus we had several costume changes—from party clothes to wedding gear to party clothes again. “We’ll act like pros” was Tina’s mantra, as she ripped open her blouse and stepped into her dress. Lee would turn his back and change discreetly, while Jake and I pretended not to watch each other. Truth was, Jake smelled of this heavenly aroma, which flooded the room when he took off his shirt. He knew it, too, and would glimpse me sideways, watching as I tried to stop my tongue from hanging out. To make things worse, he’d strip off yet another layer—a smaller, tighter T-shirt that clung around his pecs—and beneath this, scented and bronzed, he’d linger as I stared.
But two could play at that game.
Hardly noticing Lee, who was changing behind me—and not worried about Tina as she struggled with her outfit—I’d strip right down so I was standing in my bra.