‘For God’s sake, Lenny, you should be off book by now.’
Eleanor Ingram was directing a play I’d written. I was standing in the wings watching the cast slowly destroy it despite Eleanor’s best efforts. With a sigh I turned away and poured myself a huge glass of red wine.
‘Drinking your way through a crisis?’ This was Emily Tibbett.
Emily is the leading lady. She played the part of a ruthless, driven politician and could have been type cast. In fact she had been type cast. I’d written the part for her and her alone. She was tall, at least six inches taller than I and with short black hair and piercing blue eyes. Her nose was sharp, her tits small, her mouth a little too narrow. She was leaning against a wall, wearing jeans and a loose sweater.
Her mind was as sharp as her nose. In her real life she was a lawyer specialising in divorces and she invariably won. For Emily, losing was never an option. She brought that sharp mind to bear on whatever she undertook.
‘Lenny,’ she said, ‘is an arse. He’ll get it right by the last night, if ever that is.’
I shrugged and offered her a glass. ‘We cant all be like you, Emily. This is amateur, remember.’
‘There is, darling, amateur and then there is Lenny. He looks the part I grant you but his head is so empty you could park your car in it.’
At that moment Lenny came off stage, huffing and apologising.
‘You’ll be fine, Lenny,’ said Emily but her eyes never left mine. She smiled a rather sinister smile, cast her script aside and went on stage to deliver a faultless performance of her big scene. Lenny watched and almost wept. I went down the stairs behind the stage and out into the hall to stand beside Eleanor. She and I watched closely as Emily delivered the long soliloquy word perfect, moving exactly as she’d been directed. This was the second rehearsal and she was already honing her performance.
‘We’ll never keep her,’ said Eleanor, ‘She could be a pro. The rest of the cast hate her.’
‘Oh, come on, Ellie, it’s only the second rehearsal.’
Eleanor turned and put her hand on mine. ‘I know, I know.’
Eleanor is about fifty. Her rather bohemian attire suggested new age sensitivity but that was where it ended. She shouted, encouraged, teased and bludgeoned the cast through the rest of the rehearsal then left having delivered a scathing analysis and demanding everyone be off book by the next rehearsal then left in a high dudgeon. That was something she almost always did until the dress rehearsal when she would become a sweet and patient mentor and guide.
Lenny left after her, apologising to everyone and promising to have it word perfect by the next rehearsal in three days time. Nobody believed him, least of all himself.
I sat, dejected, and read through a couple of scenes and wondered why the fuck I bothered.
‘Thank you, Trish.’ Emily again.
‘The part you wrote for me. I love it. I love playing the baddy. I was Cruella de Ville the first time I ever acted.’ She sat beside me. ‘I was fourteen and at my school we had the most adorable drama teacher, Miss Tenant. I absolutely fantasised about her. Did you ever do the crush thing?’
‘Me? I always did the crush thing.’ I was putting my bits and pieces in my elderly leather satchel. ‘I still do, Emily.’ I couldn’t look at her of course. This was because she was the object of my current crush. It’s so easy to write for someone about whom you harbour deep longing. You write your fantasy image of her, dress her as you would want her to dress, give her words you want her to say.
‘Did I do OK?’ Emily is not the sort to show her need for reassurance and I was momentarily stunned.
‘No. OK is a long way short of what you did. You were, are brilliant. You were word perfect and you moved almost faultlessly. Once you’re dressed for the role you will BE the role. The worst thing you do is make everyone else look hopeless.’
‘Almost faultlessly?’ Trust Emily to pick on the smallest negative.
‘It’s the part where you stop talking and do the business with the ‘phone. You let it ring too long. You need to snatch it from the table. You’re longing for the call no matter how cool you seem. And when you move for it you need to move slow-fast, like you don’t want anyone to know how much it matters to you. You’re alone of course but even alone you guard your feelings, never let anyone see what you’re thinking.’
I went on stage, put my ‘phone on the table and moved to where Emily would be when it began to chirrup. I said the last line that cued the ‘phone and Emily made ‘bring bring’ noises. I made to move, hesitated and then grasped it and lifted it slowly to my ear and said, ‘Yes,’ and as I did so I looked around as if making sure nobody could hear or see me.
‘Something like that.’
Emily came on stage and repeated my movements, then again, improving them. She did it four times in her relentless pursuit of precision.
The last time, I said, ‘Perfect. Absolutely perfect.’
I finished putting my things away and, as she handed me my ‘phone, I slung the satchel over my shoulder and said goodnight.
‘Wait, Trish. Fancy a drink?’
I looked at her. I fancied a drink and said so. She moved her head in a ‘well, let’s get going’ sort of way and I followed her out of the dismal hall onto the dark street outside. We walked side by side and I noticed her shoes made almost no sound as they hit the pavement. By contrast my heels made a lot of noise, at least to my ears. She always made me feel inadequate and I am not one to feel that way.
We entered the nearest pub and without asking she ordered two huge glasses of red, paid for them and led me to a corner table. We sat.
‘How do I dress for the part?’
The ruthless politician was, in part, my imaginary extension of Emily.
‘A classy business suit, dark. Heels and stockings and a crisp white blouse. For the scene where you humiliate George,’ this was Lenny’s role, ‘you open your blouse to reveal a very sexy bra or camisole or something like that. Something that says beneath the formal wear you’re ready for sex. George is desperate to fuck you and there is absolutely no way but you’re going to let him see what he’s missing.’
Emily opened her imaginary blouse, ran her fingers down between her breasts and recited the line that followed. ‘Did you think you could have me, George?’
She hesitated and I whispered George’s line. ‘I’d do anything for you, anything.’
‘Be honest now. You’re pathetic, a nobody. You think I’d bed a nobody?’ She stared into my eyes and I felt George’s humiliation.
‘Yes, just like that.’
‘Am I a lesbian?’
‘Well, I just wanted to know what was in your mind, Trish. I mean, I don’t let George have me or anyone else come to that. Is there a sub-text?’
I was angry and could not work out why. ‘Just because I am doesn’t mean I write all my women as dykes.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting you did. I was merely asking.’ Her voice was even and soothing.
Emily’s eyes sparkled in the pub’s low lighting and I had the strong impression she was playing with me.
‘We’ll see,’ she said rather enigmatically and then changed the subject.
That night in bed I ran my fingers over my breasts and between my legs and my mind’s eye was full of Emily. I was imagining her dressed as I had said and with a pair of transparent panties revealed by her raised skirt and a dark triangle of hair. My hand ran over her and she orgasmed as my finger slipped under the leg of her knickers and into that warm, damp space. My climax followed hers.
* Dress rehearsal.
Eleanor was now in her supportive mode. No more shouting, she assured people all was well and that they would be fine.
I wandered aimlessly around the hall as preparations were made. I hadn’t seen Emily arrive yet and in fact I hadn’t seen much of her since we’d had that drink together. When we had spoken there was nothing between us except a sort of gentle friendship.
The hall was prepared for the opening night which would be a couple of days after tonight’s dress and tomorrow’s technical rehearsals. I always felt that at this stage I was useless. My baby, the play, was in other people’s hands. The cast had done pretty well really, even Lenny knew some of his lines.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Emily. She was dressed precisely as I had suggested. The skirt of her suit was longer than I’d imagined but the slit up the side somehow made it more powerful, sexier. The blouse was button down and showed the outline of a camisole beneath it.
‘Will I do?’
‘Very nicely, I think.’
She smiled and her mouth lost its narrowness and became fuller, more voluptuous. I smiled back.
She asked, ‘You up for a glass of wine after?’
‘If I am still sober by then, yes.’
She laughed and wandered off to the dressing room but turned at the door to give me a stare that made me feel, oh, I don’t know what, just feel. Her eyebrow lifted and she turned and I lost sight of her.
When she reappeared after the rehearsal, which had gone exceptionally well, she was wearing a simple skirt and sweater. I felt huge relief that things had gone so well and I must have shown it because she beamed at me.
Slipping her arm through mine, she led me wordlessly out of the hall and back to ‘our’ pub. A few other members of the cast arrived a little later but by that time we were already at a table in a corner and her knee was unselfconsciously against mine. She had complimented my writing which is a guarantee that I will fall in love.
When we’d finished our drinks I asked, ‘Would you like to come back to my place for a coffee?’
‘Do you mind if I say no? I have a lot I need to do tomorrow.’
She kissed me goodnight outside the pub and I made to turn away in the direction of my flat. Her hand on my shoulder restrained me.
‘The party after the show on Saturday.’
‘What about it?’
‘Wear a dress for me?’ She left then, as if nothing more was to be said.
What sort of dress? What did it mean?
In bed, my eyes closed, I was wearing in my imagination the dress she had asked for. She pressed me against a wall and her hand was up under my dress as her eyes were close to mine, bright and clear. She whispered the words I had written for her.
‘I take what I want.’
I gave her my climax.
* The Last Night
Parties after shows are always raucous. So much energy expended during the four performances, so much pent up anxiety, all released over wine and dreadful nibbles.
I had changed after the show. Well, to be accurate, I had changed during the final scene when the whole cast was on stage and I could use the dressing room alone. I wore a calf-length, dark blue dress, one of my favourites. It allowed my small breasts to sit braless and still have some shape. The waist was tight and the skirt full. I was wearing it for Emily.
During the curtain call I stood at the back of the hall and watched them all and felt a glow. I watched Emily take her bow. She looked superior and still in role. She accepted a bouquet graciously and received more, well-deserved applause.
I had a drink, the first that evening, as the hall cleared. The cast emerged in dribs and drabs. Emily appeared and she looked fabulous. She wore a pair of tight leather trousers, black and beautifully cut with perfect ankle boots that had small silver buckles at the side. Her top was a white silk blouse and I could see the dark of her nipples through it. I could not help but stare. A few members of the audience had stayed around to congratulate the cast and Emily, still clasping her bouquet, was soon surrounded by people pretending they weren’t star struck. Eventually she broke free and came to me. She stood in front of me and, in her heels, towered over me.
‘These flowers should be yours, really.’
‘No. You made it, you were wonderful, thank you.’
Emily slipped her arm through mine and led me to the outside world which was in mid-summer half light as the late sun set. We walked in silence towards the party which was being held in Eleanor’s house. The front door was open and the sounds of partying were audible some way away. I followed Emily up the three steps to the door watching her backside moving and we entered, following the noise until we were among the celebrants. We didn’t stay together at first but we shared glances and I felt sure there was an expectation between us. My certainty grew when, late into the night, she took my arm and led me out into the balmy night air and down a dark garden path to a small bower lit with little lights in the trees and out of sight of those smoking and drinking on the patio.
We stood together and she kissed me, her hands on my shoulders. I let my hands rest on her hips and opened my mouth to her, welcoming her tongue inside me.
‘Why have we waited?’
She smiled. ‘I needed to get tonight over. Despite appearances I suffer very badly from nerves. If I don’t concentrate one hundred percent I don’t trust myself. Anyway, waiting is good for you sometimes.’
That was all the answer I got.
‘Why did you wear a dress?’ Her eyebrow lifted questioningly.
‘Because you asked me to.’
She smiled. ‘I rather thought I told you to, no?’
Emily stepped away from me. Her eyes held mine.
I cannot properly explain what happened next, it just did. In retrospect I think I knew that Emily was different. I have always been the led in a relationship, never the leader. Perhaps I sensed what she wanted from me at that moment or maybe it was my need that overcame me. I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders and let the top fall to expose my breasts to her. My nipples were hard and I could feel the slight breeze caress them.
Emily did not seem to react. She didn’t, so far as I could see, even look down at my nakedness; her eyes remained steadfastly on mine as if she were demanding more. I watched her as I unzipped the waist of my dress and let the whole thing fall to the grass. I could blame the wine but I know I wasn’t drunk, not even part way there.
I stood in front of her, naked but for sheer panties that I’d chosen because on a summer night they were cool, loose-legged and like small shorts made of fine silk and had cost me a fortune. They were the sort of knickers I had hoped she’d find for herself and be swept into passion at the sight of them.
She lifted her chin slowly then moved towards me. Her hand cupped my chin and lifted it so I was looking up into her eyes once more. Then her mouth closed over mine and her hands roamed freely over my body, tracing me, her nails making me shiver as they ran beneath my breasts and around my engorged nipples. Her tongue caressed deep inside my mouth. I felt her fingers run over the silk of my knickers between my buttocks and then one of them slipped up the leg and stroked that crease beneath my buttock. My hands had remained at my sides but now and completely involuntarily they went around her and stroked her back. I felt the shape of her muscles which were firm but not like those of a body builder, just firm and shapely.
As she pulled away from me, Emily held my nipple between her fingers and looked down at me again.
‘You understand, don’t you?’
‘Not even remotely.’
It was true and all I could say. She smiled then.
‘I think you’d better put your dress on. We cant walk to my place with you like this can we?’
I dressed but I admit it was rather reluctantly. I think I had wanted her to have me, there and then.
‘Give me your panties.’
I took them off and gave them to her. She tucked them into the sleeve of her blouse as you might a hankie. The lace edge showed beneath her cuff. Emily took my hand and we walked back up the path, past the smokers and through a garden gate out into the street. Her house was close and in the Georgian style so prevalent in the city. It had a short path leading to the front door with matching wrought iron arches over the gate at the beginning of the path and over the front door itself. I remember thinking that it was worth a fortune.
The doorway opened onto an imposing hallway, lit low and with a fireplace between two open doors. Emily had not released my hand until she unlocked the front door. Now we stood in that hall and I felt her hand on my arse and the pressure she exerted pushed me gently into the right hand room which was also lit with low table lamps. She guided me to a chair beside another fireplace and then went to a side table and poured two balloons of calvados one of which she handed to me before she sat the other side of the fireplace facing me. We must have been ten feet apart but it felt intimate.
‘So, what is you don’t understand?’
‘Me, I think.’
Emily’s eyes were bright in the dim light. She ran her fingers through her hair and did that thing with her chin again.
‘Tell me why you obeyed me and wore a dress. Tell me why you took it off. Tell me why you gave me your knickers.’
‘I wore the dress because you told me to. I took it off because, I think, I wanted you to know I want you. I gave you my knickers because it was the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.’
She pulled them out of her sleeve and smiled. ‘It was sexy, wasn’t it?’
She stood and walked close to me, putting her hands on my head and gently pulling me so my face was nuzzling against the soft leather covering her mound. She held me there for a few moments then guided me to stand. My hands went to her breasts as her tongue entered my mouth and I began to undo her blouse. She helped me to pull it out of her trousers then slid her hand under the skirt of my dress and stroked, very gently, between my now wet lips.
I was surprised when she pushed me away.
‘There is something I like, I really like.’
‘Tell me,’ I whispered.
She sat on the chair and spread her legs and guided me so that I was straddling her thigh.
‘Hump my leg.’
That was all she said. So, I did.
As I rubbed myself against that beautiful leather she lifted my dress so she could watch.
‘Get your breasts out so I can see them.’
I pulled the straps off my shoulders for the second time that evening and with her eyes on mine and her hands on my breasts I continued to ride her thigh. She sucked my nipples, squeezing them and biting them but never hurting and while she did that her hands went to my hips and thighs, roaming freely over them. My orgasm was close. I’d been aroused for a long time and now it was a battle to hold it. My hands went to her hair and held her to me.
She knew because she said, ‘You can let it go when you need to.’
Her thigh pressed hard into my pussy and she bit me harder and I felt rather than knew that she was close too. I pressed my thigh to her as I rubbed myself and then I was cumming, unable to prevent it now even if she had told me to. I know I was grunting like a bitch. That seemed to arouse her more and she started to moan and pull me harder against her pussy. With her face pressed between my tits I felt her groan louder and somehow that did it and the dam bust and I felt myself oozing and moaning as I climaxed.
We stayed like that, me holding her head to me, she holding my hips, for a while. Slowly she lifted her head.
‘Thank you.’ She gently pushed me away and stood, tall in front of me, her hands still on me. She kissed me then, tenderly, licking my lips, my neck, my ears and I responded in kind.
Stepping back she slowly unzipped her trousers and I watched, spellbound, as she pushed them down, slipping her boots off as she go to them. She stood up straight and there she was. Her gorgeous long legs met where a black triangle, moist, pointed down. Unbidden I sank slowly to my knees and pressed my face to her, curling my tongue into her hair and between her lips.
She let this continue for a few minutes then lifted me and led me to her bedroom.
‘Horizontal time I think,’ was all she said.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/lesbian/the-leading-lady.aspx">The Leading Lady</a>