My Best Friend's Nude Scene Pt. 02

She kissed me again, quicker, and then told me she had to go meet Albert. I couldn't even get up to walk her out to her car, but she was moving too fast to be disappointed. For seconds, I couldn't think about anything but sex with Liz. I staged us in so many unique positions and imagined us thrusting, bobbing, undulating, and bringing each other to orgasm several times over. That lasted about two minutes, maybe, and then I had to change my thoughts or I would have to change my pants.

That's when it occurred to me that Liz had kissed me in public. More than that, I hadn't thought about stopping her. We weren't that far from Gates, and it was possible someone who knew us could have seen. Someone who knew Emily, for that matter. It wasn't like it would be a great surprise to her now, I remembered, but I ought to at least have the decency to not rub her face in my infidelity in public. But as bad as I felt, I also retained a teenage exhilaration--she had kissed me, right where everyone could see. The more I thought about Liz as my girl, the more I wanted to think about that. If I could set things right with Emily, life would be perfect, or at least as close as I've gotten.

I went back to the college and the shared office where a couple of other instructors camped between classes and read a few submissions for the playwriting contest the other faculty had asked me to judge. With all the performing, it was one of the responsibilities I had been letting fall slack, and while some of the entries weren't terrible, it wasn't fun to sit and read them back to back. I decided to call Emily at 5 o'clock because I knew she would be home for work--unless she had gone out with the girls from work to bitch about me. She would be justified to do so.

"Oh, hey. What time are we doing dinner?"

That was a surprise. I told her I had already made plans to have dinner with a few of the students just before the show, which started at 8. I had presumed she wouldn't be in the mood to talk to me, though I didn't suggest that with such specificity.

"I thought you were coming home." I said I would be home tonight--but late. I could hear her fuming, even though she made no noise at all. "You know we need to talk, right?"

"This is... really bad timing, Em."

"Are you kidding me? 'Bad timing'? Did you or did you not tell me you and Liz were... doing things--"

"I know. It was... you asked me, and I couldn't lie to you. It's not been going on very long. Really. I'm trying to be straight with you about it. And I screwed up and I'm sorry and..." As I began to collapse under the weight of all the things I meant to say, I decided instead to shake them off. "See, this is what I mean... I can't talk. I've got to focus on the play tonight."

"That's bullshit. Then next week it will be the next play. You teach and you act and that's your whole thing and I'm sorry you need to keep your head clear for a show, but you dropped a fucking atomic bomb on me. You can't expect me not to want to talk about it."

"You're right. It was a shitty thing to do--but I was trying to... correct the wrongs. All of that... I know you're going through a lot and it's all because of me. But things are cool right now. Not good, just... we don't need any more drama. No surprises. Can you just give me tonight and Saturday and then on Sunday we'll talk about everything?"

A puncturing silence, then Emily asked, "Do you still love me?"

I could have said yes and eased her mind. No, I had to think about it. I had to prepare her for the fact I was working up the nerve to dump her. A heavy exhale seemed to say more than I intended.

"Oh. Then I guess I understand..."

"Sunday, okay? I just... I can't give you the attention you need right now. I'm sorry, okay? I'm not trying to make things worse. You didn't do anything wrong. This is all my fault. I know that..."

She hung somewhere in the middle of that belabored apology. I sighed and thumped the phone receiver against my head, then hung up. At least I should expect she would be leaving me alone.

Dinner was quiet, with even the usual loudmouths and scene-stealers a bit more subdued because of pre-show nerves. Some needed a lot more reassurance, and I tried to give it, and I was actually grateful to have my mind on something else.

I spent as much time as possible in the men's dressing room. So did some of the women in the show, for that matter. The guys weren't as shy about being caught in their underwear and the students had developed a lot of closeness during the first semester and the first student show we had done. It also helped that everyone parked the pizza and a prematurely opened bottle of wine in the men's dressing room. I tried to keep to myself and get my head right for the scene, but I was in no mood to compare my own life to the fiction I was presenting. Jill came over and sat with me. She insisted on hugging me and asking me if I was alright, if I still got nervous before a first show--that's what she imagined was the root of my off night--and seemed to be flirting with me a bit more than usual. It didn't help that I had kept searching the room for Liz and finding her, and she would smile at me; even I began to think I was looking at her more than a scene partner should.

The show started, and one by one, we went through our scenes and earned our applause, as well as a few laughs far apart. When Jill and I were up next, she just about fell apart. I rubbed her back and told her she was going to be great, then gave her a last hug. We ran lines quietly together and it helped build her confidence.

We went out onto the stage, under the lights, with those invisible people hiding in the dark as they watched us. I got a few laughs with my awkward professor act, but Jill got many more with the better part, the sex-crazed student with a preposterous Southern drawl. We were good, though it wasn't our best performance--it almost never is the first night. Something about the audience refusing to give up any vocal reactions just blunts all your faith in what you're doing. Jill kissed me and someone gave us a "whooo!" Most of the audience was students, some faculty, and of course, friends of the cast. I didn't bother dwelling on how many rumors would start about me and Jill after this. It was probably better than the truth.

The lights went down and some scattered applause came for us. We went backstage again, returning to the men's room. Everyone was supportive, as they usually are with a good cast, and told us how much the audience response sounded great to them, as if the walls gave them a better view than our place on the stage.

The door opened and closed again, quietly; I had hoped it was Liz, but it was Regina, one of the students who had done her first scene.

"Oh my god--Miss Sachs is over there getting into costume for her scene. I can't deal with it."

Another girl, Jen, laughed as she dabbed a cloth at the makeup on her neck. "So what? Why is that weird?"

Regina gave her and the others a "duh" look and said, "You heard she switched roles with Albert, right?"

One of the guys asked, "What do you mean 'switched'?"

"They're doing a different scene?"

"No," said Regina, still looking upset, "she's doing the shower part now."

"What?" They had my attention, that was for sure. I started sweating even before they gave me any concrete explanation.

"Like, she's wearing the bikini?"

"I don't think so--maybe. But she's the one who kept telling him the scene was only going to be good if he was naked."

"No shit? Miss Sachs is gonna be naked?"

"No way..."

I covered my eyes and hoped no one had any attention to spare for my private crisis.

Most of them kept denying that Regina had heard things right, some even accusing her of lying, but a few of the guys were getting hopeful that she was. They were getting noisy, and if we got louder, we were going to distract from the action on the stage.

"Quiet," I warned them, and even though they usually bowed to my teacher status, it still took a little persuading to get them to listen. "Hey--please... quiet. We're still in the middle of a show. Just... act like pros. We're actors. We use our bodies all the time." That seemed to rattle them up again a little more, so I told them, "I'm pretty sure Miss Sachs will be doing her part in a bikini. Might have been funnier if Albert had done it that way."

They laughed, but the energy in the room didn't disappear, it only quieted a little. The guys talked about stealing away to the deck to watch the scene and a few of the girls said they would go, too, but at the same time they were making fun of the guys for their perverse interest. I said they could only go if they went quietly, in pairs, and didn't make any noises to distract. It was probably unnecessary--and I couldn't have stopped them if they disagreed, really--but I also said I would go with them to make sure they kept everything orderly.

Obviously that wasn't my only reason for going.

"The deck" was what everyone called the additional seating on the second level of the theater. We took the outside stairs, going up two at a time with an emphasis on being quiet, and when each pair arrived, they took seats overlooking the main stage. In some ways, we had a better view than everybody except the first row. There was a bit of bustling in the group around me, but I shushed them when the lights went black and the brief applause heralded the end of another scene--and the beginning of Liz and Albert's.

The scene began as I had seen it done before, but with a massive difference--Albert came in, carrying his suitcase, jingling the keys in his hand. Oh, fuck. The girl had been right--he was playing Liz's role. Which meant that Liz was playing his.

I could hear the shower running in the background, and Albert looked up when he noticed it, too. He went into the bathroom--which was off-stage, of course--and Liz and he screamed in unison. He jumped backwards out of the bathroom--which is to say, back onto the stage.

"Holy hell! I'm sorry--I'm sorry! I've got the wrong room! I'm so sorry!"

The audience laughed as Albert, an arm over his eyes, walked off the stage in the other direction, miming the opening of a door. They were still laughing in the silence, obviously spotting his suitcase left on the prop bed in his absence. He opened the door again, arm lifted cautiously but not entirely to shield his vision, and he came back in the room. He picked up his suitcase--the audience chuckling along--and went back to the door, opened it, started out, then stared at the door he was improvising. He sighed and stepped back into the room.

"Hey! Um... are you still a naked woman in my bathroom!"

"Get out!"

More laughter, though slight. "Ah... I would... I would, really... but... this is actually my room."

"Piss off! I'll call hotel security!"

"Which room, um, which room are you sending them to?"

"Room 410, you pervert--get out of here!"

"Okay--I'm sorry. I am. I just, uh... it, um, it occurs to me... this is room 310."

Some laughter circled around, only the sound of a shower occupying the stage. Back came the response, from Liz off-stage, "Get out of my room!"

"I would, except it seems like... you know... this is my room. 310?"

"Prove it!"

His hands went up in an exaggerated fashion as he opened the door again, then closed it. It was apparent that this was rolling funnier than the original scene, at least so far. Albert liked to play obnoxious characters, but he was a more natural fit for the normal guy caught in a bizarre situation. "I can't bring you the door. Where is your room key?"

"I don't know--get the hell out of here!"

"Again, it's my room... maybe you should get the hell out!"

He searched the room, looking under the bed and on top of a dresser (that wasn't really there) and a few other corners.

"Where did you put the towels?"

He gave the audience a mugging, confused face, and that got a pretty big laugh, Albert was much more comfortable with this side of the exchange, I could tell; even his fellow students who had seen it before were laughing like seeing it for the first time.

"I didn't... I don't have any towels. I just got into this room. I've never been here before. So... I guess... what did you do with the towels?"

"Shut-up!"

"No!" he snapped back childishly. "Don't you have any towels in there?" More quiet, which brought greater laughter. "Where are your clothes?"

"They're out there!" she shouted. After a moment, during which laughter built again, she asked, to a greater response, "My clothes aren't out there?"

"Oh, god," murmured Albert, and the audience was laughing right along. Even I laughed a little bit. "Is this... I think I found your key card?"

"Give it to me!"

"I'm not going in there!" he said, holding for more laughter. "It says, um... 410. Yeah. You're in 410. You're definitely in the wrong room."

"See? I told you!"

"No, you're... this room is 310. You're supposed to be in 410. So you're definitely in the wrong room. How long have you been there?"

"Bring me my room card--and my purse!?"

He again looked around, again finding nothing, and the audience continued to laugh. "You have no purse. No clothes. There's not even a sheet on the bed. So... um... listen. I'm just going to get hotel security. Okay? They can help sort this out--"

"Do not get hotel security!"

"It's alright. I'll just... I'll be..."

Liz entered the stage from the left. The audience lost their minds, most of them laughing, but there was a simple wildness that wasn't just humor. Just like she thought the scene should play, she was naked. Soaking wet. Like when Albert had done the scene in his boxers and speedo, her hand was clutching her crotch--but she wore nothing underneath; she had more to cover than Albert did, though Liz's body was undeniably better, so she also had an arm draped over her breasts. It was more mashing than concealing, and they seemed to look bigger, producing fantastic cleavage, as she stood there shivering in front of an audience that would not quiet down. I had my hand over my mouth and was full of more fear and shock than hilarity. I'm surprised I had any blood left above the waist to keep me conscious.

"Sorry," Liz had to say about ten times until the audience finally heard it. Albert had no choice but to stand there and stare, petrified. She kept shifting from one foot to the other, the panic on her face probably equal parts real and performance. "I think I got the wrong room."

"No shit!" he exclaimed, then covered his eyes. The audience roared loud to that line--every line would get a bigger laugh now, I suspected. They were supercharged. This was the kind of lawless theater Albert had been aiming for. I wondered if it was at all possible he had planned this--had always had designs to get Liz naked on stage. Then I decided he couldn't have played all of this to such perfection. He was just incredible lucky to find her in the right frame of mind to volunteer.

She told him, breaking up her speech over the audiences loud replies, "Look... I got a bit drunk last night. Just... drinking. I like to drink. Who doesn't?" Again, a really big laugh. She could have read a tax form and gotten laughs, standing there like that. "I bent my card when I stuck it in the ATM... I'm always sticking things where they don't belong."

I'm sure that line made more sense when a guy was playing the naked person in the wrong room. It didn't matter. It still brought the audience to their knees.

"I came back here, my card wouldn't work on the door. I needed to get in... obviously..."

"Obviously. Even though... this is not your room."

"Well, I know that now," she huffed out, and more great laughter bounded back. "The maid, she didn't speak English well. She kept going on about how this was... you know..."

"Not your room?"

"Not my room," agreed Liz. Pause of long laughs. "She told me to go to the front desk, I wasn't going to do that, she was right there... she could open the door. I guess I got a little... short with her..."

"You look like the 'short' type," said Albert, pointedly--again, funnier when it's a woman directing it toward a guy.

"So I threatened her... I might... you know... call immigration... if she didn't let me in." Albert shook his head as a few in the audience booed Liz--the gloves were off, all normal protocols and politeness were falling apart in the excitement. I had heard probably a dozen whistles since she had stepped out on stage. "What? It worked... she let me in."

"To my room." As the laughs subsided a bit, Albert paced, hand over his eyes. "I guess that explains why there's no towels--and nothing's been cleaned except the missing sheets."

"Look, can you loan me something? Just a... jacket or something?"

"It's 72 outside," Albert shrugged, starting to enjoy the situation. "I didn't pack any additional clothes. I've got a suit in the car for my presentation tonight--that's it."

As the giggles continued, Liz just stared helplessly at Albert. She asked, "Can I borrow your pants--"

"No!"

Greater laughter. There were whispers passing around the students I was seated with, and I couldn't even hear them over the noise from the audience. I felt so strange--bad for Liz, humiliated on her behalf, but also incredibly aroused to see her out there.

The lines continued as I moved my eyes back and forth from my nude friend on the stage, arms still trapped in place to conceal her body, and the audience that was rapturously watching her. As I scanned the crowd, preoccupied with thoughts of how many of Liz's students and fellow colleagues in the master's program were seeing her in this compromising situation, I noticed one face more familiar than the others.

Emily. After all our arguing, she had come to see me in the play. I could only imagine what was going through her head.

The scene continued for 8 more minutes, the intensity of the exchange picking up as the two characters realized they were not only from the same hometown of Duluth, Minnesota, but that they had gone to the same high school. The moment brought about a tremendous amount of laughter when Albert made the mascot call with one hand and Liz mirrored, flashing her tits to the happy crowd, before remembering her state comically and covering up again. It got more ridiculous as they realized they had once been on a date together in middle school. She had skipped out on the bill--which was hard to accept the gender-swap, maybe just a little, but the audience went with it--and he had never forgiven her. Liz's character confessed to her insecurities and that she had forgotten her "purse" on the date and didn't want to ask for help. They had never spoken to each other again until that moment, apparently. They shared details about their pasts and figured out, taking the long way around--at least 8 minutes' worth--that they had never really gotten over each other.

Throughout the conversation there were very brief flashes like when Liz showed her boobs, but nothing so intense as that moment. She turned to the side once and I could tell everyone was hopeful they would see more of her than a profile, but that's as much as she gave them. It didn't do much to leave them disappointed. They were still highly charged, appreciative they were seeing so much flesh unexpectedly, and maybe the fact they all knew her as the pretty graduate-level instructor helped keep them so enthusiastic.

"It makes me sad," Liz, in character, declared, and she sold the solemnity of the moment, in spite of her undressed state; she really was a hell of an actress. "To think I came that close to happiness... just to lose it all over a forgotten purse."

"Well," said Albert's character, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Like I said... I'm divorced. You... you never got married. And I guess... technically... we never did finish our date."