Eve & Lucy Ch. 01: The Audition

"Aw thanks," I blush. I mean, who doesn't like having their ego stroked like this?

"So, seriously, are you really going to act naked?" she asks, eyes wide.

"Um.... yeah?" I whimper. "Oh shit, yes I am." I drain my glass. I may need another. "Another of these please!" I yell at the bartender. Woah, that first gin has hit me hard. I didn't have much breakfast this morning.

"Wow Amanda, that is serious commitment."

"I know! Gulp! I mean, I may not invite my parents to this one!"

"Yeah, but it won't be gratuitous... I mean, it's totally justified by the role."

I run over and grab my new drink, pay and trot back over to my stool.

"Well, sure, but I think it is going to be, like, pretty gratuitous. Maybe I can get, like, a pubic wig or something to help cover my, you know, up."

Carrie blushes a bit at this. I gulp down a couple of mouthfuls. Woah, this is strong. I'm halfway to being drunk already. I don't think I rehydrated properly after the group auditions. This had better be the last one.

"Are you sure you won't have one with me?" I side-eye her.

"No, I don't drink." She leans back.

"What, like, at all?" I ask.

"No," Carrie says, "but don't worry, I've no problem with you drinking."

"Can I, like, ask why?"

"It's personal." She's suddenly all closed off. "Anyway, what are your plans after Uni?"

"I don't know yet. My parents are, like, pushing me to go straight into a career, but nothing on the Milk Round interested me. I've applied to Teach First as a backup, but, like, what I really want is to do rep theatre. I've applied to some summer Shakespeare companies, like For the Bar, and to the Tobacco Factory, but it's like so hard to get an in. I'd love to do drama school, but my parents can't afford that. How about you?"

"I'm applying to do a counselling course. I want to work with addicts and their families, supporting them."

"No plans to keep acting then?" I lean forward. I want to reestablish that brief intimacy we had.

"Well you never know. Maybe some Am-Dram stuff if I can find a group I like. Being somebody else in rehearsals and on stage has been really helpful to me, been a chance to get out of myself and get away from the stress. It would be good to keep that going." She looks like she's about to say more, but then sort of shakes herself and sips her coke.

I finish my second G&T.

"Look, I should probably go..." she begins.

"Aw," I say. I'm surprised, but I've actually enjoyed this. Apart from all the compliments, it's been nice to see her open up. Not such an Ice Queen after all. Until she shut up shop again once I pressed her on the drinking.

"Yeah, I told my Gran I'd do a pick up on my way back. Anyway, congrats again Amanda, you were amazing, an inspiration." The warmth is back, and she grabs my free hand.

"Thanks," I start to say, but then it turns into a "whoops! Ah, fuuuuck!" as my sandal buckle gets caught on the stool and my other ankle goes sideways under me, and suddenly I'm on the floor.

"Oh my God, Amanda, are you ok?" Carrie's down by my side in a second, trying to help me up, but I can feel the pain in my ankle.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I wince, "I think I, like, twisted my ankle."

"Hey, can we get some ice? In a towel?" Carrie yells to the barman. "For the swelling," she says, "stay down, don't try to put any weight on it."

"Here you go," the barman hands down a towel.

"Thanks," I say, "that was quick."

Carrie's holding the towel to my ankle. It doesn't feel broken. I tentatively try moving it: it hurts, but yeah, nothing like the time I broke my wrist.

"I don't think it's broken?" I venture.

"Hmmm, still, don't try putting any weight on it," Carrie says. "Where do you live?"

"Not far. Here pass me my mobile, I'll see if any of my flatmates are home. We're like only a street away.."

"I can drive you," says Carrie, "I've got a car."

"Would you? Is that ok? I know two are out today and, like, one's at her boyfriend's. Louise might be around but, you know, maybe not."

"Yeah, it's fine. Look, let's hobble you outside, you sit on the wall, and I'll go and get my car. It's two streets away."

"Ok, thanks Carrie. God, I'm like such a klutz."

With the barman helping, they get me up and out to the wall outside the Union. It's chilly, but at least there's some sunshine. Wish I'd put my bra back on - it's attack of the nipples time! While I wait for Carrie, I message Louise to see if she's home.

Louise: Sorry babe. At Cribbs. All ok?

Me: No, bust my ankle. Don't worry though, Carrie (!!) is running me home. Just wondered if you'd be there to help me upstairs...

Louise: Oh no! Sorry! Shall I head back?

Me: Nah, don't worry about it. May need you to feed me later. Have fun at Cribbs x

Louise: Luv ya. Rest up.

There's a beep and I look up to see Carrie pulling up in some kind of classic sports car. What the hell?

She double parks, sticks on the hazards, and runs around to me.

"Here, lean on me and we'll hop you over."

It's a bit awkward getting into such a low car: she literally has to lower me down into the seat, then I can pick my legs up and swing them in.

"Now where am I going?"

"Like, left just here. Then right at the end." I point to make it clear.

"Ok."

"Thanks for this. Like, cool car by the way."

"It's not mine - it's my Gran's. Well, it was my Grandad's, but he died 6 years ago, so it's hers now. She's got her mini, so she lets me use it." Carrie indicates and makes a smooth turn.

"Wow, awesome. I mean, like, not awesome your Grandad died, but you get what I mean... oh, perfect, park there. The gods of parking are smiling on us. I'm that building there."

Carrie parallel parks, then comes round to help me out again. I'm aware of how much my dress is gaping, so she must be getting an eyeful.

She helps me hop up to the pavement and open the door.

"Thanks so much Carrie, like, I'm sure I'll be ok now."

"What floor are you on?"

"The second."

"Ok, don't be stupid, I'll help you up the stairs."

"Honestly, like, I'll be fine..."

"Amanda, just say thank you." She's already taking my bag from me.

"Thank you," I huff.

"You're welcome."

Honestly, I'm pretty glad she insisted as climbing these stairs solo would have been pretty hard going. She has her arm around me, supporting me over her shoulders, which is a little awkward as she's taller than me, and given where her fingers are I'm worried she could end up with a handful of boob if I slip.

Eventually, we make it in, and I collapse on the sofa in what passes for our sitting room.

"This is nice," she says, glancing around.

I cock an eyebrow at her to see if she's joking. I think she's serious. She's moved into the kitchen and is filling a glass of water, gazing out at the allotments that fill the enclosed area behind our terrace. To be fair, it is a nice view, and the building itself - a Regency terrace divided up into four flats - is attractive.

"Why, where do you live? Oh thanks!" I say as she hands me a glass of water.

"Up in Sea Mills, with my Gran."

She moves back to the kitchen and is rummaging in the freezer.

"Are you like her carer? Is that why you live with her?"

"What? No! She's only 61. Still pretty spritely."

"61? But you're what, like, 24?"

"23."

I want to ask her more about her family. I'm being nosey. Seriously, I've known this woman for almost 2 years, been in three plays with her, and this is the most I've ever found out about her.

"So, like how old...."

She sighs. "My mum was 16 when she got pregnant with me. Here, stick this on your ankle," she hands me ice wrapped in a tea towel, "have you got any ibuprofen?"

"Bathroom cabinet," I point to the bathroom next to the kitchen, "but can I take it after all that alcohol?"

"Hmmm, maybe you'd better eat first," she starts.

"Carrie, you've been, like, amazing, but honestly, if you, like, need to go, I'll be ok now."

She gives me a look of frank disbelief.

"Let me sort you out with food and painkillers first."

"Well, that's, like, really sweet of you," I say, "at least have some food with me? I mean, you need to have lunch too, right?"

"I guess.... What have you got?"

"I think there's some tupperware with, like, leftover veggie moussaka: you could like microwave that? There might be, like, some salad to go with. There's definitely muffins: Samantha made it all yesterday."

"Is it ok to take your flatmate's stuff?" she asks as she opens the fridge and peers in.

"Oh yeah, she makes food for everyone. That's like her thing: she likes taking care of people by cooking for them."

"Wow, she sounds lovely."

"Yeah, she's a honey. It's her mum's birthday this weekend, so, like, she and Sarah have gone home on a visit."

"They a couple?" Carrie asks as she begins putting food in the microwave.

"Yeah. It's like sooooo sweet. They've, like, known each other since year 7, then like finally got together the Christmas before last. Bless 'em."

"Awwww, that is cute. I'm glad it worked out for them, it doesn't always."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

There's a pause.

"Oh, come on Carrie, you can't, like, leave me hanging like that."

The microwave pings.

"Carrie?"

I hear her sigh as she takes a plate of steaming moussaka out of the microwave and starts plating it up.

"My mum was in love with her best friend, but.... Well, it really didn't work out."

"Oh no, I'm sorry, like, I didn't mean to..."

"It's ok." She comes back into the sitting area and passes me a plate, taking a seat on one of the arm chairs. "It was a long time ago. It's also kind of why I exist: my mum got angry when her friend came out to her and told her she was dating this older girl. They had a huge row, and my mum got drunk and slept with my dad. Nine months later, me!" She loads her fork and takes a bite.

"My God." I said. There's an awkward pause as we chew. "Like, I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, that's a common reaction. It's kind of why I don't talk about myself much."

Another awkward pause.

"Mmmm. This is really good," Carrie says.

"I know, right?" grateful for the change of topic, "Samantha can, like, really cook. She loves it." Wanting to fill the silence, I find myself talking about my lovely, sweet and very special flatmate. "She's got, like, this synesthesia thing where sounds have tastes for her."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so, like, she'll say that my laugh tastes like coconut or sand on a beach or something like that, or arguments taste like sulphur. So I, like, wonder if that helps her cooking or something."

"Maybe. It really is delicious."

I carry on. "Like, one day she made this absolutely incredible concoction," I start to snigger, knowing what the punchline to this anecdote will be, "it was, like, creamy, with orange zest, honey and cinnamon. It was like a pudding," I snort, "sorry! I'm just..." I'm already chuckling, remembering this delicious, wobbly dessert that burst apart when you touched it, "and when we..." I stifle a giggle, "when we asked her what it was... she said..." I'm nearly crying now, as Carrie watches me with a bemused expression. I get a grip on myself and try to channel Samantha's straight up honesty and complete lack of boundaries in order to do the punchline justice. I sit up straight, put my plate to one side and stare at Carrie. I summon up my version of Samantha: "Oh Amanda, I wanted to make something that tasted like the sound of Sarah's orgasm."

Carrie nearly spits her food out, slipping back in her chair as the giggles take her.

I choke on my laughter. "But then the best bit," I manage to get out, "was that Samantha goes...." I giggle again, "she goes all, like, self-critical? Like saying "I wanted it to be silkier in texture and there needs to be more caramel notes to really capture the way Sarah's voice goes" and we're all trying so hard to, like, not laugh because, I mean, Samantha doesn't take that well, y'know?" My eyes are streaming and Carrie's convulsing silently. "Meanwhile, like, Sarah's turned into a tomato and...ha.. and then...pffffffff... then Lydia turns to Sarah and says...." I have to take a breath and fan myself. Carrie is doubled up. "She says..." I put on Lydia's home counties RP, "So, Sarah, we already knew what you sound like; now we know what you taste like too!""

Carrie and I both lean forward, shaking with laughter. Tears are running down our cheeks.

"They're loud, huh?"

"You have, like, no idea," I manage to croak out. "Their room is next to the bathroom and, like, every morning, I mean, like, EVERY morning, it's like being on a porno set. I mean, they can't get enough of each other. It's, like, so funny because they, like, nearly didn't get together because Sarah was worried that Samantha wouldn't, like, be able to be touched but uh-uh-UH!" I snort out, "it's like they are still on honeymoon."

"My God. Doesn't that get uncomfortable?" Sarah asks as she wipes her eyes.

"Nah, we're, like, all friends here," then for some reason I say, "though sometimes I get uncomfortably turned on by it." Despite the food, I'm feeling quite tipsy after those two doubles.

"I didn't know you were into girls," Carrie says, almost to herself, then blushes.

"Well," and this must be the gin talking, "I've never, like, been with a girl, but I'm not completely against the idea." I twirl a finger in my hair, coquettishly, "you know, if, like, the right girl came along I won't say no!" I laugh. "I mean, I've, like, been subjected to some pretty explicit lesbian propaganda for, like, the last 15 months! I kinda wanna know, you know... what all the fuss is about?"

"But you've really never...?"

"No. Like, I've always had boyfriends, well, up until January, but, like, no girl has ever hit on me. I mean, not even at Gay Pride! It was most disappointing!" I raise my eyes and a hand in mock outrage.

She leans forward. "Well, what's to stop you hitting on a girl?"

"Like, how would I know? I mean, I haven't got, like, a gaydar or anything. Like, for all I know you might be gay," I laugh.

She flashes a tight smile. "Here, give me that." She grabs my empty plate and heads up the step to the open galley kitchen area.

"Oh, just leave it Carrie. I'll do it later," I call as she washes up.

"Yeah right," she calls back, "anyway, it won't take a second."

"Sorry, did I, like, offend you or something?"

There's no answer. She's running the tap, so maybe she can't hear me.

"Carrie," I say again, as she's drying her hands, "did I, like, offend you?"

"No," she shrugs, as she disappears into the bathroom.

She comes back holding the ibuprofen pack, then grabs my water glass from the floor. I swing my legs off the sofa so she can sit next to me.

"No, you should keep your ankle elevated," she says.

"All right," I grin. I swing my legs up so that my injured ankle, my right, is on the sofa arm, meaning my right leg is across her lap. My left leg I lift really high and over her head, so that it's on the back of the sofa behind her. She squeaks a little, and ducks as my shin goes over her head, but with her hands full she can't do much. I have her between my legs.

"How's this for hitting on a girl?" I laugh, as I take the pills then water from her. "Thanks."

"Smooth," she nods, as I swallow two tablets, "8 out of 10."

"Only 8? I need to up my game," I purr as I flutter my eyelashes. I don't know what's coming over me! I need to change the subject. "Oh Carrie, this is so nice," I say, as I grab her hand and squeeze, "why haven't we, like, hung out before? I mean, seriously, I've known you, what, like, 2 years, and this feels like the most we've spoken? I so thought you, like, didn't like me."

"No, that's not it at all," she sighs and closes her eyes.

I carefully put the glass down on the floor next to me. She still has her eyes closed. I gently squeeze her with my legs.

"What?" I ask, "what is it?"

She tries to shift my leg and get up, but I'm not budging.

"Uh uh uh! Not 'til you tell me!" I tease.

She turns to look at me. "Ok, ok, ok! Fine! I'll tell you why we haven't gotten close, Amanda. I'm gay! Alright?" She pauses, and I'm not quite sure what to do, but I don't release her. She sighs, and it runs through me. "And I've fancied you from the first moment I saw you but... I thought you were straight. Which you basically are. So I kept my distance as I didn't want to start crushing on you and end up getting hurt. Ok? Happy now?"

A warm chill - crazy I know, but I don't know how else to describe it - thunders through me. "Oh! Wow! Like, ok," drinking makes me babble, "like wow. So, like, today must be really odd for you?" I chuckle. "I mean, I guess you, like, normally get to see girls naked after you take them home, not before."

She laughs: at least she can see the funny side.

"Well, you took that confession well. Thanks," she says, squeezing my fingers.

It might be cruel, but I'm going to have some fun with this. Plus, I'm curious. I scooch forward. She's right between my thighs now. I idly run my fingers through her hair, which comes down over her shoulders. "So, um, Carrie, like, how would I get to 10?"

"What do you mean?"

I put on an act and lean right forward, making sure my dress gapes at the front, then look up at her through my eyelashes. "You know, how would I get 10 out of 10 for, like, hitting on a girl?" I put my finger to my lip in a way that has always worked on the boys, but immediately I'm wondering what that would do for girls? How should I act?

"Um, look, Amanda," she sighs, looking away from me, "I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Like, who's talking about a relationship?" I say, bringing my mouth up to her ear. "Come on, Carrie. Don't you wanna scratch that itch?" I purr. "I'm just, like, looking for some sexy older woman to induct me into the secrets of lesbian love." My hand is stroking her forearm now, and I've pulled my legs down, so they are more wrapped around her. How far am I going to take this?

"Urgggh, Amanda! No, no, we can't because..." she tries once again to move my leg out of the way, but I'm using my arms now and it's no good.

"Because what?" The sexy seductress persona I seem to have adopted interrupts, placing a finger on her lips and tilting her face towards me. "You say you fancy me; well I think you're sex on legs. You say you don't want a relationship, and neither do I." My voice has gone quiet and husky. "Plus, we're not both going to be cast in the play, right? There's only one female role. So after today, we'll probably never see one another again, so it won't be awkward." I watch my hand trace its way down the side of her cheek and her green eyes stare into mine, our faces inches apart, my breasts pressing up against her arm and chest. "Carrie, do you really want to spend your life wondering about whether you could have had me or not?" I hear myself whisper to her.

Suddenly, she's turning between my legs, her hands cupping my face, her lips pressing against mine. Whoah, I hadn't really been thinking of....ok, mmmmm, oh God that's nice. Mmmmmmmm, her lips are so soft, she smells so good and I'm kissing her back, my eyes closing in bliss. Oh my God, apparently this is happening! I'm kissing a woman! Fuck, this is so hot! My arms are around her, pulling her tight to me, our breasts pressing up together and her warmth is intoxicating. I wince a little as I lower my ankle to the floor and accidentally put weight on it.

"Are you ok?" Carrie asks.

"Fine. Kiss me more," I gasp.

I part my lips, inviting her in, and she takes advantage, widening our mouths and teasing my tongue out and into hers with delicate flicks. She's so soft. I can't get over it. Her lips are delicious and luscious and holy shit is this turning me on. My stomach is spasming and there are tendrils of desire sneaking their way from my mouth to my chest and, oh God yes, further south. Can I stop this? Do I want to stop this? I realise I am now sitting on her lap, and her hands are caressing my back in the most delightful way, and this is all really fucking fabulous. Mmmmmmm. I am loving the way her breasts push into mine, squishing them tenderly.