My Best Friend's Nude Scene Pt. 03

The scene just went on and on. Though it seemed to last an hour longer than the night before, it probably lasted only an additional ten minutes. As it continued, Liz looked tired and frustrated. She channeled it into the responses of her character, snapping, getting louder, and it kept the scene from being disastrous, but it wasn't as good as last night. I chewed on my thumb knuckle as I watched her, feeling bad for her being on that stage with no rescue. The longer it went on, though, the more relaxed Liz's arms got. I wondered if it was all the energy she was spending out there or something else--but she kept letting through little glimpses. Her arm dropped from her breasts again and again until, near the end, she was practically letting it hang at her side. She turned more and more to face Albert instead of the audience, giving one fortunate side of the theater a glimpse of her ass. In fact, she improvised an attempt to run back to the "bathroom" once, giving everyone an early peek at her backside. When she turned back around, the noise threw her or something, because she let her hand fall away, just for a moment, and let them all see her hairless pussy. All of Albert's lines were loss for almost a full minute.

The noise never got lower than a rumble, and she turned toward him, giving us her ass again, and she embraced Albert and kissed him. He lifted her up a little this time, maybe just as super-charged by the excited crowd as she was. The lights went down and--to my surprise--the audience applauded. They were raucous and rude, but they were still students, not thugs, and it would be hard for anyone not to feel good about such thunderous applause.

I again snuck backstage down the stairwell, but when I went inside--without knocking, I was surprised to see Albert there with Liz. She sat in a chair, a towel wrapped around her, and she was crying. He looked worse than her, though, a basket full of frayed nerves.

He ran a hand through his hair and turned his frustration on me. "I couldn't hear a goddamn thing out there! They were so obnoxious--those fuckers!"

"Shh," I told him, moving closer. I pointed to the stage to remind him the next scene was coming up. There was a code we had to respect as performers, even if the audience wasn't one we liked. For minutes he remained there with us, complaining about the state of things and wishing he had done a better job. I finally came up with a way to get him out of there. "A couple of the girls were asking about you on the men's side."

"No kidding? Who?"

"I didn't see them. I just overheard it while we were headed back down."

Albert tried to be a gentleman, asking if Liz would be okay, and she said she would. Then he sped off to get over to where he thought adoring female fans could be found.

I locked the door when he left, since Liz gestured for me to do so. I came back to her and she stood up, letting the towel fall away. She was breathing easier than she was out on the stage. I asked if she was okay, hesitant to show more concern when Albert had shared the room with us, but she said she didn't know.

"They saw everything--didn't they?"

I didn't want to lie. I told her, "Nothing more than a flash. It was an accident."

"Maybe it wasn't," she said, then released a quaking breath. "I couldn't think about anything out there. That was a mess. I had no idea it was going to be that crazy. It sounded like every seat was filled out there."

"Including a lot of them in the deck--by us," I said. I smiled and she groaned. "Don't worry about it. You don't have to do it again..."

Liz squeezed my groan, then undid my jeans. As I moved to stop her, a bit too slowly, she pulled my cock out into the air and gripped it like a railing overlooking a long drop. I almost stopped breathing.

"Fuck me. Don't play with me anymore. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel this dick in me so bad, darling..."

She kissed me--then kissed me again. Her hand pumped me, back and forth, and I had to steal breaths and try to focus. There was nothing I wanted more than to feel her wrapped around my cock.

But my brain wouldn't let me. The guilt was too strong--and I hadn't told her earlier because it seemed a worse crime to fuck up her head before the show.

"I had sex with... I had sex with Emily last night," I told her. She continued to jerk me off, her lips hitting my cheek harder. "Liz? Did you hear me? I had... sex... with Liz."

She let my dick free and backed away just enough to look me in the eye--with obvious disappointment.

"Don't tell me you feel bad about us--that you're staying with her."

"No. I'm not. I tried to... this sounds dumb as fuck, but I tried to resist her. She demanded I fuck her. And I... I wanted to. I mean, I wanted to fuck you, but I hadn't let myself. So I gave in. I shouldn't have."

"Great. Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. I know it was a shitty thing to do. I'm fucking awful. It wasn't good. I wish I could have been with you. I'm breaking up with her tomorrow--we're having that talk. I'll tell her everything about us. She already knows a bit... I think she... she wanted to compete with you. Maybe win me back. But I didn't feel that. I wish I had just gone back to bed. Left her alone."

"So she gets to fuck you--I just get cunnilingus?" asked Liz. She was sobbing again, not hard, but her eyes were tearing. "I'll make you a deal, Mike... fuck me."

"What?"

"Fuck me now... make me cum again... and I'll forgive you."

"Don't make me do that," I said, sighing. "I feel bad enough."

"It's not betrayal if you don't fuck me? How do you figure that? Do guys really believe that bullshit?"

"I don't know. But... Jesus, to be honest, Liz, this all feels really negative. My cock wants to feel you so bad... a blow-job or inside your pussy or anything... but I don't want this to be a bunch of illicit encounters in the hidden areas of the place we work. I want something real. Permanent."

"Fuck me or get out then," she said.

Liz leaned in and kiss me again, her hand wrapping around my scrotum and giving my balls a gentle embrace. I had to take a long breath to keep my head together. I kissed her again and managed to break away from her.

"Just... if you really care about me, please... I need one more day. I don't want this hanging over us. I know it's dumb. I know. But--"

She turned around, and my eyes fell to her ass with lewd thoughts even as she gave me a cold tone. "Get out then."

"Will you talk to me tomorrow night?"

"I'll think about it. Now... go ahead. Fuck off. And fuck yourself tonight."

I went back to the door as she slipped into the towel, unlocked it, and slipped out into the dark. I had nothing to complain about. I had gotten what I wanted--again.

* * *

I wouldn't have expected to get home before Emily on Saturday night, but I did. I had forgotten to look for her in the audience again, so worried for Liz and the show itself with that loud mob. If she had gone to the show, she must have gone out drinking afterwards. When she came through the door, I pretended to be asleep, though my mind had been turning over all my problems. My worry was that she would want to have sex again, and I would be feeling far worse if I succumbed a second time, but it ended up being for nothing since she practically fell into bed and fell asleep. She was still, like the sleep of death; I knew well the signs that she had drank too much. I started to think about how much easier things would be for me if she did die in her sleep, poisoned by all the alcohol--like that would let me off guilt-free. Like anything would. Of course, even thinking that for an insincere second left me wracked with guilt.

Waking up early, I went out and got us drive-thru breakfast. Anything I could do to put her in a better mood would be a good idea, I thought. It went cold as Emily slept half the day away. I asked her if she wanted to wake up and eat with me and she barely grunted, and the tone was one that told me to let the bear keep hibernating. I ended up watching a couple of movies while I waited. Like any actor, I ran lines in my head--but I guess that's something anyone does when they have a heavy conversation ahead of them. I kept changing my dialogue, but none of it sounded good enough for the big show coming up.

At last, Emily woke up. She took a couple of aspirin, something I had seen before on days she had woken up hung over, and sat at the counter between the living room and kitchen, sipping on some water and trying to wake up.

"I guess we should talk about... everything."

"Not now," she said.

I stood there by the counter. She wouldn't look at me, staring blankly into the kitchen instead. I asked, "When do you want to do that then?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

That thought was like a punch in the sternum. I sighed with annoyance and leaned on the counter.

"We need to do it today. I'm sorry. But we've waited long enough--and that's my fault, I know."

"I can't deal with it today. I've got too much on my mind."

"This is all that's on my mind. Can't we just... get through it? We'll talk it out. Try to make it fast. Maybe not get to the stage where we yell at each other. You haven't done anything wrong. But the longer we put this off--"

"There's no rush--is there?" she asked me. The way her eyes turned on me then, I wondered if she read my thoughts, if she had some sort of information about what was happening between me and Liz. I took another breath as I planned my argument, but I wasn't sure what to say. I had put her in an unfair position, and she was only asking for the same consideration now. Emily said, "My head hurts today and I have work to think about, too. It's better if I... if I just don't deal with it."

The thought of continuing to wait just drove me to worse depression. I should have, probably, but I couldn't do it. Even the time I had waited through until today, the time I asked her for, was getting on my nerves.

"We should break up," I said, then took a long breath. There it was, out in the open, but I didn't feel very free for having said it.

Never have I seen Emily that furious. She threw the glass of water at me, more violent than she had ever been before, though it didn't travel far enough or fast enough to hurt or even break. She screamed at the top of her lungs that I was being unfair and I had cheated on her and that I was giving her way too much to deal with. Where was she going to live? How could she afford rent on her own? Didn't all the months together mean anything to me? Was what we had worth so little that I was ready to just destroy it all--"for some cheap fuck"? That's how she described my thing with Liz.

As angry as it made me, it left me feeling much more guilt, like I was suddenly loaded down with the concrete blocks of all my ill behavior.

"This is ridiculous," she eventually said, pushing me out of her personal space before walking back to the couch. "Why am I fighting to keep you? This doesn't matter shit to you and I'm not sure it makes a damn bit of difference to me anymore..."

"Do you really love me, Em? Do you see a future together for us?" I asked, still leaning on the counter. My body felt the weight of all that guilt and unspent anger as if it were a real burden. As she told me she loved me, I tried to cut through that. "We don't do much of anything together anymore. You don't talk to me, except for a few things about work. We don't like the same things."

"I'm not an idiot, Mike. This all started about the time you got that nudie movie with Liz in it. You got the hots for her. That's all it is. You think that's going to last?"

"It's not some cheap and stupid thing. I don't care about fucking other women."

"You did fuck her, though, didn't you?"

"I..." I had to take a breath and stop myself from denying it. I couldn't pretend I hadn't shared something with Liz even more physically intense than most of my experiences with Emily. "I haven't... we actually haven't... fucked. Like that. But yeah, we've done other stuff."

"She sucks your dick, right?" Emily shook her head as I went flush. "A bunch of teenage hand-jobs... other shit like that. You must really be in love."

"It doesn't matter now," I said, hoping to keep her away from this more vulnerable area of conversation. "You're mad at me for spending time with Liz and doing things with her I shouldn't have been doing. But you should be mad because I didn't come to you before that. I should have been honest--I should have been honest with myself. I was spending time with you because there was nothing better happening for me. I didn't... that's lousy to say, and it's not your fault at all. Nothing you lacked. I just didn't love you like I should have. That's the truth. I'm only breaking up with you now because Liz made me realize that."

"Fuck you."

"Em, you've been holding back with me--and you know it." I was standing by the couch as she sat there, a compact form with her hands over her face and knees together, and I kept just enough distance I didn't feel like I was looming over her. "I don't mean the sex. I could live with that. If you hadn't fallen behind in your rent with your old place, would you even be here, living with me?"

Glaring up at me, she asked, "Do you think I just moved in because I needed a place?"

"I think the two of us had to be pushed into taking the next step. But nothing's going to come along and convince us we have to get married, is it? Do you want to get married? Is that why you don't want to break up?"

She hid her face again. "The way I feel right now, I'd be happy to push you out a goddamn window." As I digested that, regretting my insistence on having the argument today--just a little--she looked up at me again. "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Are you crazy?"

"There's something wrong with me. Isn't there? You learned you can do better?"

"It's not like that. It's never been like that."

"Really? 'Cause that's almost word-for-word what you just told me. You were 'waiting for something better.'"

"Not a better person. Just someone more compatible."

"You don't think she's a better person than I am?" Emily chewed on her fingernails a moment then spat out, "That fucking slut."

I groaned. I was right--I had to be right, I thought. This couldn't all be me being led around by my dick. Articulating why it made more sense for me to be with Liz just didn't come, though, and I almost started having my own doubts.

We continued in that fashion, sometimes circling back to the same issues, even the same phrases. Like the CD had come to an end and started playing again, but selecting random tracks. No matter how much I said otherwise, she kept walloping me with the accusation that I was leaving her because the sex was bad. It was--what could I say? Not bad, but not electric, like between Liz and me. But as much as I was sick of lying, I wasn't going to admit to that. The problem between us wasn't as simple as sex. Somewhere in the middle of defending myself the third or fourth time, I got brutally honest with her--I told her I thought she wasn't enjoying sex with me as much as I wanted. The more she pushed against that idea, I finally just said it. I told her I thought she had some bisexual feelings.

While she had lesbian friends, she was still clearly embarrassed by the thought, and a little too bothered by it. She kept asking me for proof, as if I were making a case instead of trying to talk to her. I didn't have proof, of course, I just said I thought she had an interest in women that she wasn't acknowledging. That just became another horse on the merry-go-round, and when we would get off on another tangent of pointing out each other's flaws or hurtful actions, it would come back. She said I wanted her to be a lesbian because that meant it was all her fault.

"I have never even shown an interest in other women. Why would you think that? You're grasping at straws. Ridiculous..."

"I don't know. I thought it for a while. Just suspected. But then when we saw that DVD of Liz, you got really excited that night..."

"That's bullshit! It's a fucking lie!"

"Em, I'm not saying there's anything--"

"You wanted to fuck me--I couldn't keep your hands off me that night! Just thinking about your dream girl, weren't you? Boy, I bet you wanted to fuck her so bad right then..."

"You were the one who was all excited by it."

"Fucking liar. Listen to yourself. How can you live with yourself when you're such a fucking liar?"

The breakup kept chasing its own tail. Technically, in any breakup, all you really have to do is say, "I want out. We're through." The rest is all details. Why couldn't I just say that? It never really came to mind. I just wanted her to feel better. I wanted her to agree with me--I thought I was doing the right thing, even if it was painful. Better to re-break a bone than let it heal abnormally and pretend you can walk on it. That was my thought. As for Emily, I'm not sure what she was getting out of all this. She didn't want to take the blame. Maybe she didn't want things to change--from her living with me to the fact she was in a relationship. But I had a hard time believing she really loved me that way. We were friends, and we should have stayed friends--but now we probably wouldn't even be able to do that.

I got into a diatribe about how Emily always wanted a safety net for everything, she was so scared of taking any risks, and somewhere in the third or fourth sentence of that, there was a knock on the door. She had to cut me off, which made me feel all the more like I was a barking dog just yelling at her.

When I opened the door, I was shocked it was Liz.

"Oh, Jesus. Um..."

She took a breath, then told me, "Can we just... put the argument last night behind us?"

"Now's not--sure, that's fine. Already forgotten, if you want. But now isn't a good time. Me and Emily..."

I gave her a look with my eyes, like doom occupied the apartment, and she understood what I was trying to get rid of her for.

"She should come on in," Emily called out, having overheard Liz's voice. "Seriously. She's destroying our relationship. She should at least come in and watch it burn down."

"Don't take that personally," I whispered to Liz. Emily kept going on, telling us how worthless we thought she was. Disposable. I said to Liz, "I'm the one who screwed this up. Really. She's just throwing punches at both of us because she's pissed. And I don't really blame her--"

"Stop talking about her to me--fuck you. I'm right here. Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room."

Liz prodded the door back and forced me to open it--or hurt her forcing her out again--and she went right to Emily, standing there with her hands on her hips.

"This is actually all my fault. Not his. He never wanted to sleep with me."

"Liz, come on. This is hard enough--"

"Do you know... that every night we've been together... I've seduced him?" said Liz. I covered my face and repressed and urge to grab her physically and cover her mouth. "I am a fucking cliché, Em, and I hate it. I'm a homewrecker. But he didn't come to me looking for someone to cheat on you with. I've always... I wanted him. He told me about this DVD and he kept it secret and... he made me feel so loved. Those feelings just got stronger. Last night, just like so many other nights, I begged him to fuck me. I actually gave him an ultimatum..."

"Oh, god..."

"So what?" asked Emily, standing up like they were going to get physical. "He didn't fuck you, he just let you blow him? I never realized what a fucking hero he is..."

"Yeah, I sucked his dick. The first time we did anything, I made a move on him. I went down on him. He wanted to stop me. He just didn't."

"I think they give out purple hearts for that now!"

"You're telling me you didn't make him fuck you Friday night?" Emily gave me a furious glance and I didn't know how to respond to the truth. Of course I told Liz. I was serious about her, as I had said. "Like you just wanted to make me jealous."