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

to him about whether or not he had a girlfriend. He also maintained a slightly infuriating professional distance from me during and after rehearsals, which led me to believe that he simply didn’t find me attractive as more than a colleague.
    There was a scene in the second act where he and I were supposed to spend about twenty minutes under a satin sheet in a bed tucked away in the corner of the stage, while the two main characters argue their lives out in the center. We’d never properly rehearsed it and it was always a little unclear whether Martin’s character and mine were meant to be having sexual intercourse or sleeping, and the director had told us to decide for ourselves. It made sense to us that we would be making love; after all that was what our characters were obsessed with, wasn’t it?
    We’d decided that we would improvise the scene each night. It would be dull to go through some choreographed motions  and we didn’t want to seem like an old married couple; we were supposed to be spontaneous and passionate, after all.
    During the dress rehearsal things went smoothly for the first act, and everyone seemed pleased with themselves. After our break, we headed back on stage and Jack and I quietly slipped into the bed. As the two main characters started to spar, I shivered. Jack moved towards me and whispered,
    “Cold?”
    I nodded.
    The designers had made a last-minute decision after seeing me in my silk dress that it would be great for this scene, as a pseudo-nightgown. But it wasn’t as warm as what I thought I’d be wearing. Jack moved his body towards me and put a large hand around my back, pulling my body in towards him. I was grateful as it did seem to be warming me up. Within moments, though, he began the sexual improv. He turned me onto my back and pushed himself up and over me, leaning in to kiss my neck. I still felt warm. Jack kept kissing me; my face, my mouth, my neck, my chest. He was really going for it, giving his all to the craft, I thought.
    After a while he let his arms bend a little under him and lowered his body gently onto mine. I could feel that his cock was hard. He rolled onto his side and I leaned over and began my part of the dance. I kissed his cheek, his mouth, his chin. Under the covers, I pushed my hands inside the robe that he was still wearing and slid them over his chest, outlining his pectorals with my fingertips, then exploring his strong abs and feeling my way towards his sides. Eventually I couldn’t resist anymore and I let my right hand slide down towards the drawstring of his silk pajamas.
    I let the back of my hand gently, seemingly almost accidentally, touch him through the material. He was still hard and I heard him moan softly. I turned my hand around and squeezed his thick cock, which made him moan again. Finally, with my fingertips I undid the drawstring. I slipped my fingers down the front of his pajamas and felt the head of his penis eagerly rise up to meet them. There was a little wetness at its tip; it was preparing itself for what was to come.
    Jack, meanwhile, had decided to return the favour. With one hand he pushed my skirt up, stroking my thigh as he went. I kept my fingers on him, stroking the length of his shaft gently in hopes of slightly torturing him. His fingers meanwhile made their way to the inside of my thigh and eventually to my pussy, which he seemed delighted to find was bare and very, very wet. He began to massage me, moving his fingers gently all around my lips, delighting in the shape and the swollen flesh.
    “I want to eat this,” he whispered, grinning.
    “Good,” I said. “I want to eat this.” I gave his cock a gentle squeeze.
    “You’ll get your chance ,” he said.
    Giving in to momentary selfishness, I turned to lie on my back and let him continue to play with me. By now one set of fingers was making its way around my pussy as the other hand began to focus on my clit. I realized suddenly that he intended to make me