The Roles We Play: An Erotic Short (The Classics Collection) by Trina Rossi

“Take off your sweater, Catherine.”
    I was pretty accustomed by now to being ordered to disrobe. It didn’t bother me. Actors are, by nature, exhibitionists. We wander backstage, naked and flaunting out bodies. It’s the only way to survive the scrutiny that’s forced on us daily; the constant judgment of our appearance, our voices, our movements.
    I obliged , removing the thin wool cardigan that had been covering my shoulders. I had no problem feeling confident, as I looked after myself and had a slim, athletic body. My breasts, which were fairly large, were high and perky to the point that more than one fellow actress had asked if I’d had implants.
    “Good. Now try again from where you enter the room. This time, remember that you’re here to seduce Martin.”
    I walked to the edge of the stage, turned and wandered slowly back towards the actor playing Martin, who was sitting on a couch pretending to read a newspaper. The silk slipdress that I was wearing wasn’t intended to be part of my eventual costume but it worked well in the moment, as I could feel it slide fluidly along my flesh as I moved. Amazing how sexy silk can make a woman feel. It shifted lightly over my nipples, making them harden even in the short distance that I covered. I approached the couch, put one stilettoed foot on the coffee table and raised my skirt enough to expose soft, milk-white thigh. Martin was no longer reading the paper.
    “Th at’s it,” beamed our director.
    “But I haven’t even said a lin e yet,” I protested, laughing.
    “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got it. All right everyone. We’ll see you tonight.”
    That evening was our dress rehearsal. The play was to run for two weeks, with a possible extension if ticket sales remained strong. I was hoping it would keep going; I liked the cast and the director, and it paid well after all.
    It was the story of a couple whose marriage was falling apart. I played the wife’s good friend, which implies that I wasn’t a main character. Yet I was on stage most of the time, with Jack, who played Martin. We didn’t have a huge number of lines but ours was meant to be a sort of foil to the main storyline; we were a couple whose life consisted solely of time spent in bed together.
    Don’t ever let someone tell you that, when actors kiss, it’s just acting. There’ s always some kind of feeling, whether it’s disgust or passion, or something in between. Sometimes you don’t know how you’ll react until your lips are on the other actor’s; a man who seems repulsive might turn out to make you so wet that you’re almost embarrassed.
    When Jack and I first started working together I liked him immediately. He’s a fine actor and has a great sense of humour. I’ve played quite a few roles where I’ve been asked to kiss a man and, though in past sometimes it’s horrified me a little, when I first saw him I knew that it would be no problem at all. For one thing, he was beautiful. For another, he had amazing lips. Full but masculine.
    I’d been cast in the role of sex kitten and he was my counterpart; my gorgeous, glorious lover. His purpose on that stage was to make the women in the audience want him and I knew that he would be completely successful before he’d even opened his mouth. They’d put him in silk pajama bottoms and a robe which sat open for the duration of the play. His body underneath was sculpted; a smooth chest and hard abs that I was barely able to resist touching at the best of times. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. I was expected to cling to him, to kiss his ear and neck, to stroke whatever parts of him I deemed decent.
    It was during the dress rehearsal, the first time we’d really run the show, that things began to get interesting. Though we’d laughed and playfully joked about our pretend ed intimacy, I hadn’t gotten the impression that Jack was particularly interested in me. He’d worked with many beautiful women, I was sure, and I hadn’t even talked