With This Ring, I Thee Bed. Alison Tyler

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СКАЧАТЬ 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. Sure enough, as I stepped into my bridal dress, layers of net and satin pooling round my feet, I’d sense Jake’s stare hot on my skin.

      One night, he snapped, “Must you always stand there naked?”

      “So you noticed?” I said. “I thought you averted your eyes.”

      Seeing his mistake, he flushed and said nothing, but unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down. As he straightened, I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open. There he stood, proud and tall, wearing no shorts whatsoever, his cock long and perfect, his buttocks bronzed and tight. Oh, what I wouldn’t have done to feel him inside me, to have him thrust like crazy as I fondled that ass! When he pulled up his trousers, a smile on his lips, I began to wonder who was really winning here. He sent me a sly grin as he fastened his belt. It was I who was blushing now.

      My home life was nothing like the play. Keith slaved away until two in the morning, scribbling notes at the desk in our room, scratching his head so his hair was messed up, groaning, “Anatomy’s hell.” I’d bring him mugs of coffee, massage his shoulders, tell him he was going to be a wonderful doctor; but he hardly said a thing, just sighed and carried on as if I wasn’t there. My own course was in French lit, and I’d sit in the kitchen, reading alone, turned on by the sensual language. Je t’adore. Mon plaisir. Oh, je t’aime, je t’aime. And I’d dream of Jake—his hands, his mouth, his body firm on mine. At other times, I’d reach for my script, testing myself on the lines: Of course I’ll marry you. I feel you in my bones.

      When at last Keith and I would get to bed, I’d want to make love, but he’d turn away. I’d ask if he was sleeping with Ella. After all, he came home stinking of the pub. If his nights out were innocent, why wasn’t I invited?

      “Look, I love you,” he’d moan, pulling the pillow over his head.

      “Then why don’t we kiss?” I’d ask, but he’d already be snoring.

      He’s coming to the play, I’d tell myself. That’s the important thing. And when he reminded me to get him a ticket, I booked a front-row seat.

      The final dress rehearsal was the toughest yet. Dan had decided our kisses were too quick. He made us practice the wedding scene over and over: Jake pushing back my veil, kissing me fiercely, his scent in my head, his hands sinking…. Then later, while the others performed their fight, we had to mimic sex. Jake smelled better than ever, was fiery when he held me, slamming me hard against the stage wall. The background music built in a rapid crescendo as I ran my hands across his chest. Just before he kissed me, with his fingers on my waist, he whispered, “See how well we’d work?”

      And as he leaned in close, I said, “Oh, yes.”

      I was so wet I kept forgetting my lines. When we were meant to be romancing or arguing on stage, I was just dreaming of Jake’s firm thighs, and the way I felt him harden as our bodies pressed together. Dan kept getting snippy. “Terri, act for heaven’s sake! We’ve been through this often enough.” And I’d try to focus, not only to save the play, but also to make Keith proud.

      On opening night, we were nervous as hell. According to Dan, all tickets had sold. “Full house, darlings,” he said as we waited on the stage. “Now come on, hold hands and gather in a circle.” Dan told us to close our eyes, then guided us through deep breathing. “Let yourselves relax,” he chanted. “We’re all in this together.”

      Jake leaned in close and breathed at my ear, “I want your answer tonight. Are you my girl or not?”

      “I wish I was,” I whispered, my insides twisting up, “but Keith …”

      “Fine,” Jake muttered, letting go of my hand. His rage flared and he was beautiful; with his jaw raised and the pain in his eyes, I longed to be close to him again. But when I curled my fingers around his, he quickly shook me off.

      I tried to tell myself this was for the best. Keith would be watching and I shouldn’t get aroused. But in truth, I knew I longed for Jake and loathed that I’d hurt him.

      An hour later, I was in the wings with Jake, who was straightening the cuffs of his dress shirt. Our first scene was a dinner party, and standing tall in a paisley bow tie, he was every inch the gent. Nervy, I asked for a hug, but he sighed and shook his head. “It’s hard enough we have to fake sex when you’ve just turned me down.”

      Heart thumping, I glanced beyond the stage to the noisy audience. The seats were filled with students chattering and laughing, but where was Keith? When I’d bought him his ticket, I’d checked where he’d be sitting—front row, next to the aisle—and though we were late starting, the seat was still empty. “Where is he?” I said.

      “Who?” asked Jake.

      I bit my lip.

      But Jake grabbed my elbow, twisting me toward him. “See?” he said. “He isn’t gonna come. Terri, he’s not worth it.”

      “He’ll be here,” I said, turning back toward the audience. “He knows it’s important.” But no—the lights were dimming and still no Keith.

      Throughout the opening scene, I kept checking the empty seat. I even lost a line and had to be prompted. There was a moment between scenes three and four where I needed to rush backstage and change into my dress for my next grand entrance. Pausing by the mirror, I saw myself in white: pearls gleaming on my satin bodice, my skirts shimmering, my veil floaty … If Keith asked me to marry him, I knew I’d never СКАЧАТЬ