My Best Friend's Nude Scene Pt. 02

My goal had been for things to go back to normal with Liz, but this didn't qualify. Our Friday night watching the movie might have been a one-time deal, but I kept feeling like every glance my way was her flirting with me. I already felt incredible guilt at what we had done together while Emily was drinking with friends. Not that I was innocent and deserved any sympathy, but I kept thinking I couldn't win; at first I felt terrible because I thought I had betrayed Liz, now I had definitely betrayed Emily with Liz. I had to cop to that, I knew, but I wasn't sure I should tell Emily the truth, and I was using up as much time as I could debating it in my head. I didn't bother asking Liz's opinion; if she had asked me if Emily knew or if I had told her, I would have taken that as a sign, and the fact she didn't was a sign of another kind. The truth was that, as bad as I felt, I didn't feel as bad as I should have. I felt great. I liked thinking about Liz all the time. I had no doubts that I should be with her instead of Emily.

There is nothing wrong with Emily at all, but things had not been good between us for a while, and I had my suspicions why. Being with Liz only confirmed that I would be happier with someone else.

Her thoughts were unknown to me, but Liz seemed to be having a ball. She didn't show any worries about the DVD getting around--maybe she trusted me that much--and she put the same enthusiasm and energy into her classes and her work designing sets for the upcoming Hurston play the college was doing. Whenever I had to walk through our workshop I would see her bent over a piece of scenery, giving it a coat of paint or adding some details, maybe bolting together two wooden pieces with a hinge, and I sweated at the sight of her round ass in her tight jeans. I think she caught me looking, too.

We had lunch together, another sign that things were back to normal. All she wanted to do was talk about the show of student-produced plays coming up next Friday. Many of us grad students and young instructors were participating, partly out of genuine support for the students, partly because it looked good for our evaluations. It's not exaggeration to say Liz was the prettiest of the instructors--though 38-year-old Miss Delacourt had inspired a few crushes here and there--and she was like the bell of the ball when the students started asking for faculty to help them with scenes. She had chosen to go with Albert Weiss, a self-assured playwright and actor who always talked a good game about how he only liked "exciting" theater. If I had been her, I would have gone with Nyla Shepard, who was a more powerful actress, but Liz said she liked Nyla, but all of the scenes she had chosen were extremely dark and self-important. With Albert, she was promised a chance to stretch her comedic muscles. I understood how much she wanted to do that.

It was hard to stay focused on what she said at times during our lunches. Even the way she ate french fries seemed seductive to me. While I could have been imagining it, I didn't believe I was. I remembered what she had told me while going down on me. Never would I have dreamed someone as sexy as Liz would be into me. Here I was, in a scenario I've dreamed about, and it was one of the rare times in my life I had a girlfriend and felt like it was wrong to act on my feelings.

At home, Emily's preoccupation with sex had passed. I tried to turn my attentions on her, but she kept telling me she wasn't feeling like it--and she would make it up to me later. We watched a lot of TV and she spent a lot of nights on the phone with a couple of friends, Melanie and Chloe. She was more despondent than usual, but she didn't want to talk about it, no matter how much I coaxed her. I figured I would be better off giving her some space, some time to figure it out for herself. It wasn't all grim silence and quiet desperation. We had good dinners together, and once she was recharged with calories, before she picked up the phone, she could tell me about her day with some spirit and listen to what I would volunteer about mine. Like Liz at lunch, I talked about the upcoming student production. I had been asked to do a scene with one of my students--we had a kissing scene, and normally I never would have mentioned it, worried about Emily's ego getting shaken, but giving her that to concentrate on, I thought, helped put her off the trail of what was happening with Liz.

One night, though, Emily caught me watching the DVD again. She asked me why, and I could tell she was afraid of the answer. It's a curse and a blessing, but I've always been able to conjure a lie on the spot, so I told her I had already informed Liz I had seen the movie and just wanted to talk about it with her, make her feel like it wasn't so bad. The secret to a good lie is a dash of the truth surrounded by untruth. Emily asked me why I didn't tell her about it before and I just said it had happened that day, and I was still debating whether or not I should tell Emily since Liz wanted me to keep it between us. That satisfied her, though it didn't leave her too happy with me. At least I managed to deflect the more dangerous accusations of my feelings for Liz.

One of the subjects Emily did want to talk about was Liz--if she was doing well, if she was working in the upcoming show, and after I told her about the DVD conversation, in its half-truth form, she had a lot of questions about how Liz had explained it. I passed on what I had learned, when it didn't incriminate me. The Saturday after the Friday I had stayed late working on the sets for the Hurston show, I woke up and discovered the DVD of Liz was back in the player. What was worth noting about that was I had most definitely not left it in the player. Emily was watching it, too.

The week of the student theater show was a real crunch, with a lot of late nights. Most of us who were working on the sets for the Hurston show, which opened up a week afterward, were asked to stay late and help get the set finished so it could be raised for tech week. Then in the evenings we were doing our own tech week for the student shows. There were eight 15-minute plays being staged back to back, and some of them were a bit intense, but there was confidence we could get them in great shape by Friday night. The scene with my student, Jill, had a lot of lines, but we both already had them memorized. Student shows were light on sets, but the lighting cues and blocking had to be down if we wanted a perfect show.

When I ran into Liz before the rehearsal that day, I noticed she had cut her hair shorter and colored it black. I told her it looked good and she burned a bit read and smiled at me. I could see her doing it for the scene, a look she wanted to have to sell the character--but it was hard not to think maybe she had done it for me, too.

I sat in the audience and watched Liz's scene with Albert since I had not seen it before. It also contained a kissing scene, to no great surprise--no doubt he had planned that when he wrote it with her in mind, and she had graced him by choosing his scene to appear in. Not that I was jealous. It was a preposterous thing, like a mini-farce, where Liz's character comes back to her hotel room and finds a stranger using her shower, just off-stage, of course. She gets flustered because there's no towels or any clothes to cover up with, and he marches out onto the stage. Albert was planning on doing the scene naked, we could all tell, but only in the most literal sense. He would have his most critical parts covered with his hands, which would keep us from pissing off too many people. But I'm sure his would be the scene everyone was talking about the next day. For the rehearsals, he wore his boxers, lucky us. Liz brought some great energy to it, but she seemed more nervous than it was written. Maybe she felt bad for Albert. Even in his boxers it was obvious he was pretty out of shape. I didn't envy him trying to keep his hands in place and his posture from giving away too much the audience didn't want to see.

As for my scene with Jill, it was fun kissing her. What am I supposed to say? I've never understood actors who pretend kissing attractive people is work. If you're prone to nerves, sure, it can cause relationship problems and all sorts of things. I would definitely be nervous on the night Emily came to see the show, hoping she wouldn't want to subject me to an inquisition when we got home, but when it came to kissing her, Jill was a good-looking girl who was enthusiastic about her role. I knew she had a small crush on me, but students her age usually cycled through crushes on about half of the people in the Theater Department. I actually felt more emotion watching Albert turn at the end of his scene, giving the audience his ass as a final laugh, and leaping at Liz for their last kiss. The girl I had strong feelings for would be kissing a naked man on the nights of the show, Friday and Saturday, and even if it was just acting, it was normal to feel a bit jealous.

On Wednesday night, I was asleep in the bedroom and my phone rang. I picked it up and it was Liz. I looked around and saw that Emily hadn't come to bed yet.

"You were watching us on stage again tonight."

I had to interrupt a yawn to answer her. "Yeah. You guys were good."

"I'm so jealous of Jill, you know?" I wasn't sure what to say. I listened during the brief silence and was pretty sure Emily had fallen asleep on the couch; usually she did when she wasn't in bed with me by this time. I got out of bed and went to check on her. Liz told me, "I shouldn't say that. I know. It was just one night--this thing between us. But I can't stop thinking about you."

I hesitated, mostly because I was seeing that Emily was indeed sleeping on the couch, TV still fluttering light through the room. Stepping back into my bedroom, I closed the door and whispered to her, "I'm feeling the same way."

"I don't want to disrespect Emily."

"I know. It's difficult. I want to do right by her, too. So... we probably..."

"Is it alright if I touch myself... while you're touching yourself?"

"Um..."

I didn't have much of a chance to think about it. I had my cock in my hand and was lying back on the bed before I could run through the consequences of being caught.

"Are you watching me?" she asked, then moaned quietly. "Do you have me... pulled up on the TV?"

"I'm in the bedroom. Can't..." I panted a little.

"Just you and me on the phone then. A little privacy," she said, then sucked in a breath. "But you remember... you saw me..."

"Yes..."

"Saw me... wiggling my little ass as I crawled through that duct... getting that good look up my crotch..."

"Oh..."

"Are you yanking on your dick, sweetheart?" she asked me, her breath beating on the phone. "Oh my god... I've got my fingers in my panties... on my pussy..."

"Take them off," I gasped. "I love... I love you... naked..."

"Just a..." She moaned again and I heard her moving fabric around. "I'm nude again, baby... just like you like me..."

"Yes... oh, yeah..."

"I bet you want to bend me over... grab my little hips..."

"I do... I do..." I was almost hurting myself as I quickened the friction on my cock.

"I can't wait to feel that... giant dick... pushing up into me..."

"Oh god oh god..."

"Can you feel my pussy, darling? It's so hot and wet for you--"

"Fuck!"

I dropped the phone after I started cumming on my own chest. I gasped several times to get my breath back; I could hear Liz taking quick, whistling breaths from where the phone had fallen. With the phone to my ear again, I just listened to her, squeezing my prick until it dripped its last pearl.

"You okay?" she asked me, then giggled. "That felt so good. So good. I just know... it would be even better if you fucked me."

I picked up a couple of tissues from Emily's side of the bed and began to carefully catch everything I had spilled. I wasn't sure what to say to Liz. I had never wanted to have sex with a girl so bad, even in the days of high school when I wanted to fuck nearly everything that moved. I whimpered as I sat up again.

"I can't. Not... not as long as Emily and I..."

"I know," she said, then moaned with disappointment. "You're a good guy, Mike. You really are. I wish I wasn't making things so difficult for us both."

"It's not just you," I confessed. "When you kiss Albert, I wish it was me."

"I would love to kiss you--so fucking jealous of that bitch Jill. But... I'm not as strong as you are." I waited a moment for her to continue. "If you do want to fuck, I'm down for it."

"I... I want to... I just..."

"I know," said Liz, then took a great breath. "I'll let you go. I can probably get some sleep now." With a laugh she told me, "Albert thought he was going to be so brave doing this stupid scene. Now he wants to do it in a speedo. One thing to be bold when it's all just in the imagination."

"Yeah. I sympathize."

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

With no idea of what the next day held, I went back to work at the college and sleepwalked through my classes. Between Liz and I had been a faint wall, an agreed-upon illusion that nothing had really happened between us, and though it was thin enough to see through at times, it felt protective to have it there. Should I expect a new wall in its place? Or were we treading out onto thin ice and chasing something more dangerous?

The afternoon was spent finishing up the sets. We wouldn't have the same time on Friday since we were going to be in the mindset for the show. I only passed Liz a couple of times in the hall between classes and such, and when our eyes met, I found her giving me a knowing smile rather than looking away with embarrassment. That might have been scarier than pretending it didn't happen.

Most of the time working on the sets was spent focused on the job, which was more physically demanding as we set the stage for next week's show and took them down again, all for the purpose of seeing how they looked under the light. At one point, I was in charge of moving a pretty vital window piece to capture the painting behind the set just right and where the lights wouldn't catch too much glare from the best angles. The set designer, Gloria, wanted to take pictures after we moved it, so that had me ducking under this window each time so I wouldn't be in the shot, but would be close enough to edge it this way or that. After the second time I moved the piece and ducked down, I saw a silhouetted figure trotting out to meet me in the shadows. Liz.

She got down on her knees and elbows, a mirror image of me, and she leaned in an kissed me. I could feel her tongue sneaking in to meet mine. I was instantly hard, but anxiety was growing that someone would see us. Everyone knew I was in a relationship with Emily, even if they didn't know Emily herself. It was so easy to get caught doing this here.

Her hands were on my neck and pulling me closer, but she didn't have to give me any more encouragement. Despite my fears, I was compelled to keep kissing her.

"Mike? You back there? I need it... just a bit more toward the table. Mike?"

I rose up to let them see me through the window again as Liz covered her mouth and watched me.

The two of us snuck about three more kisses before I was finished with the set. Her hands would wander my body sometimes when she didn't have to stretch too far, and I was sure we would have gone further with more privacy. We finished up and I managed to get in a quick shower in the dressing room, like a couple of the other grad students, and then we dressed in costume and had a late lunch/early dinner in the theater seats. Then we started putting on the student plays for a last rehearsal. It's customary for last rehearsal to just do the whole thing like a show, without any stopping, rolling with flubbed lines or bad lights or whatever happens. That's pretty much what we did.

For my scene with Jill, she must have thought I was possessed. I kissed her like I would have kissed Liz--like I rarely kissed Emily. Even grad student A.J. said he was getting suspicious of the two of us when I stepped off-stage. I made fun of him, hoping to cover up I had my mind on someone else.

The scene with Albert and Liz was a bit of a trainwreck. He did it in his speedo, sprayed down with water to look like he had just gotten out of the shower, and even though he was wearing more than he had originally planned for the scene, he was much more nervous and blowing every third line. Worse than that, the comic timing was all off. In some ways it was believable, certainly awkward, but the good lines were falling flat. Liz should get a medal for participating in the scene, I thought, rather than just some positive marks in her folder. At the end of the skit, they kissed, and for the only time I could remember, I wanted to be Albert.

All of the women students were due on stage for the last number, so they were running lines in the wings as they listened to the last couple of sketches and waited for their cues. Liz had declined to participate in that one, figuring she had enough going on with her scene with Albert. I went over and knocked on the dressing room door, and a student named Fiona was coming out just after I knocked.

"Go on in," she whispered. "It's just Liz."

I went into the dressing room and she smiled when she saw me. Her nerves were still jumping from her scene with Albert, a little sweat covering her forehead. The dressing room was a mirror of the men's dressing room on the opposite side, with a counter that had several drawers underneath for storing make-up and other properties, a long mirror for hair and make-up, and a few chairs pushed close and awaiting the next actors; on the opposite side of the long room were lockers and hangers, as well as another mirror floor-length mirror for examining full costumes, and at the end of the hall a bathroom that included a shower and a locking door with a prominent sign that reads "DO NOT FLUSH!!! (during shows)." Liz leaned with her butt against the counter as she beckoned me closer with her eyes.

"Lock the door," she whispered, and I had to backtrack slightly to make sure it was locked. I went right to her without hesitation.

We kissed for seconds. I heard a bellowing voice on the other side of the wall, where the stage was located, almost like someone was yelling at us to stop, but I recognized the voices of one of my students. He liked to broadcast to the backrows. But I'm not sure a command from God Himself could have separated us right then.

I took her in my arms and enjoyed her weight, the curves that were unique to her, her different height than Emily, all of those things I had not yet really experienced. Her breath had a sweetness I thought I could recognize in the dark--even tainted with the taste of Albert's obnoxious cigars. I sucked on her neck as she ran a hand through my hair.

"Fuck me," she whispered. Even that made me tremble, as much from its salacious sound as the fear we would be overheard. Her tongue dipped into my ear and rode the rim. I almost choked, then sucked in a breath and nipped her skin with my teeth. "Oh... fuck! Oh, god, fuck me!"

"Shh," I warned her. "I can't do that. I can't. I'm not... I'm not going to... I'm not ready," I said.

"Please fuck me, baby..."

"C'mon... don't ask me." If she kept asking, I would probably fold. How much pressure could a man stand?

When she pushed me back a little, I thought I was being rejected. I wouldn't blame her for that. I mopped some of the accumulating sweat from my forehead and started to apologize, but I saw Liz staring at me, still full of lust, and she was unbuttoning her shirt. I thought she might insist again, and see me comply. The dress shirt she wore was a yellow-shite, baggy, with pearl-like buttons that she hastened to unfasten. She parted the leaves and revealed her breasts, wrapped in a lacy white bra. After a few seconds of wrestling, she had them spilling over the top. Her nipples were maroon, erect, looking positively sharp. I had to tear my eyes away to look into hers again.