Not that Kind of Play

The car pulled up in the driveway, and Mrs Jones and her son, Graeme, got out. Mr Jones looked up from inside the house and put down his newspaper.

"So, how did the audition go?" he asked once they'd entered.

"Weird," said Graeme. "It went really, really, weird."

"Oh, shush," said his mother. "It went great."

"Hmmm, I dunno about that."

"So did you get the part or didn't you?" asked his dad.

"Yeah, I did."

"Are we talking Mercutio, Tybald...?"

"No," said Graeme, "no I got the lead role, I got Romeo."

"All right," said his dad, "well I'm really struggling to understand the mixed feelings here."

"Did Mum tell you she was auditioning too?"

"Well, I told her she should," said his dad. "She was a great actor back in the day. She probably would've made it big if she hadn't gotten pregnant."

"Yep," said Graeme. "I'm acquainted with the story of how my existence ruined Mum's career."

His mum laughed. "It's not like that!"

"So what role did you get?" asked Mr Jones. "The nurse? Juliet's mum? Oooh, Romeo's mum? That'd be easy to get into character for."

"Well, she did initially go for the nurse role," said Graeme.

"It was as good as mine, too," she said.

"Yeah, but then she decided to go for more of a lead role."

"Well, the nurse is a pretty prominent role," said his dad.

"Yep. Pretty prominent. Would've been an excellent role."

His mum shrugged. "The other lady going for the nurse role was pretty good too, so I didn't mind giving up that role. On the other hand, the girls going for the Juliet role, well, they were rubbish."

"Oh," said Mr Jones. "You didn't...?"

"Yep," said Graeme. "She tried out for Juliet."

"Well, all right," said his dad. "I always say that your mother still outshines all those young things."

"Oh, stop," she said, although her tone of voice indicated that she was totally fine for him to continue flattering her. "The real reason I got chosen over the younger actresses is entirely down to knowledge of the material."

"That and the current front-runner was just not a good actress," said Graeme.

"See? If it weren't for me you'd have been acting opposite a decidedly mediocre Juliet."

Graeme shrugged. "At least she was younger. Not too many productions of Romeo and Juliet have Juliet be a woman in her forties."

"Well no," said Mr Jones, "historically they'd have men."

"In the text she's fourteen," said Mrs Jones, "would that be better?"

"No, that'd be creepy as hell."

"See? This isn't so bad."

Graeme shrugged. "Having to kiss my mum on stage is kinda weird."

"You wouldn't just do a stage kiss?" asked Mr Jones.

"Not with this director," said Mrs Jones.

"Yeah, he'd need it to be believable," said Graeme. "I'm not sure if I can."

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Thought you were an actor. As an actor, especially if you go for lead roles, you're gonna have to kiss some people you might not usually choose to kiss."

"Trust me," said his mum, "I have kissed my fair share of people I did not want to kiss, in my time. Once you're in character it's fine. You've just gotta get comfortable with each other."

"Sure," said Graeme. "Easy."

"You should try it now," said his dad.

"Come on, in front of you?"

"You're going to have to kiss in front of a full house, and I plan to go to at least one of your shows."

"He's got a point," said Mrs Jones.

Graeme sighed. "You're sure?"

She smiled. "Yeah! Come on and kiss me, Romeo."

He stepped forward and quickly gave her a peck on the lips.

"Wow," said his dad. "Such passion. I can see how you couldn't possibly live without her after a passionate kiss like that."

"Yeah all right, no need to be sarcastic."

"He's right though," said his mum. "The director's not going to be happy with that."

"Right," said Graeme. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, put one side around his mother's waist and the other to her face, then pulled her in and kissed her deeply on the lips.

"Well, it's better than it was," said his dad.

"Could still be better," said his mum. "We'll need to keep working on that. There's that bedroom scene to worry about, too."

"Oh god, that," said Graeme.

His dad raised an eyebrow. "Sounds spicy!"

"Oh no, not like that," said Graeme.

"It's not that kind of play," said his mum. "It's more a bit of passionate kissing on a bed in shadows before the curtain falls."

"Although if any director was going to try to push the envelope in that regard, it'd be this one," said Graeme.

"Well," said his dad, "if I see you guys kissing around the house, I'll try not to be too jealous. In fact, if you can make me jealous, that's probably a good indication that you've put enough passion into it."

Graeme chuckled. "Great. Thanks, Dad. That's made this much less awkward."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I love the arts."

~

The next two days, in between reading lines with each other, his mum would occasionally kiss him. She'd be walking past him in the hall, and would stop, grab him by around the waist, and lock lips with him. When she made dinner for the three of them, she kissed them both, first her husband, then her son. And one night, after her husband had gone to bed, instead of joining him in bed immediately she came down to the basement where Graeme's bedroom was set up.

Graeme lifted his head as he saw her enter. He was already in bed. "What's up, Mum?"

"We should practice that bedroom scene at least once."

"Well, I was already getting ready to go to sleep."

"Yeah, so you won't even have to move."

"Yeah, all right." He sat up and patted the bed next to him. She sat down and put her arms around him. "So the script doesn't really have strict instructions here, huh?"

"No," she said. "It allows for a bit of improvisation, I think. It's just about making sure we accurately depict a newly married young couple."

"Right," he said. "So I guess we're just figuring out the scene at the moment."

"And getting more comfortable with each other."

"Right." He pulled her closer to himself, then kissed her on the lips. She kissed back, one hand on his bare chest. Still holding her around the waist, he gently pulled her down to the bed with him, and they each lay on their side face to face, still kissing.

She pushed him onto his back, then swung one knee over him and continued kissing, her hands on his chest, while his arms wrapped around her. He put his hands on the small of her back, but then they slipped down and brushed the top of her butt.

"Sorry about that," he said.

She shrugged. "That's fine. If you can be comfortable with your hands on my butt, I dare say you can be comfortable with anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well in that case..." and he slid his hands down her back, past the edge of her nightie, and grabbed onto her butt.

She chuckled. "I just meant it was fine to accidentally touch, but this is good too. You're getting way more comfortable." She kissed him again, and gently pushed her tongue into his mouth. He left his hands on her cheeks, but gently felt towards her butt crack.

He found it and raised an eyebrow. "No knickers, Mum?"

She giggled. "Well, I'm in my pyjamas. And I wasn't expecting to have your hands on my butt."

"Sorry about that," he said, and moved his hands back to the small of her back.

"No, that's fine," she said. "Obviously we won't do that on the actual day."

"No," he said. "It's not that kind of play."

"But it's good to get us more comfortable with each other."

"So you don't mind?"

She shrugged. "It's just acting, right?"

He moved his hands to her shoulders, then kissed her again. Then, looking her in the eyes, he slowly moved his hands down from her shoulders towards her breasts. She nodded to him without a word, then leaned in and kissed him again as he gripped her breasts over the nightie. She started gently rocking back and forth, and he felt himself slowly getting hard. He got so hard that his boxers could no longer contain him, and his erection gently pushed through the flap in the front. As she rocked back and forth, she gasped as it came into contact with her.

"Sorry," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't think these pyjamas are period accurate." She began to slowly grind against his length.

"Yeah," he said. "This'll be fine on the day, they'll have us wearing a little more." He put one hand on her hip and one hand on her butt cheek, and helped grind her back and forth against his erection.

"Exactly," she said. She slowly shifted so his tip was against her entrance. "Something like this couldn't happen when we're in costume." And she gently pushed against his tip, which sunk a little way inside her.

He kissed her, then sunk the rest of the way into her, and started sliding in and out. He tried slipping her nightie off one shoulder, but she stopped him, grabbed a hold of it with both hands, then lifted it up and over her head. He took her nipples in his mouth, one by one, while she bounced up and down on him again and again.

After a few minutes, he grabbed her butt with both hands and held her to himself, still buried inside her. "Wait," he said.

"What?"

"I'm not sure you on top is period accurate."

She laughed. "Is that right?"

Still inside her all the way, he rolled the two of them over, with him on top. "They definitely would've been all about missionary back then, right?"

"Well, I suppose we could try it."

He held onto her under each shoulder, and started to slowly slide in and out of her again. He kissed her lips, then her chin, then her neck, and then they both climaxed. They gripped each other to themselves as he came inside her, and she shuddered over and over again.

"Wow," she said.

"Well, feels like we're relatively comfortable with each other," he said.

"Yes," she said, "but there's always room for improvement."

"Of course."

"So we can keep rehearsing between now and opening night."

He smiled. "It would be the responsible thing to do."

~

It was opening night, and Romeo and Juliet had both died, followed by Prince Escalus giving an angry speech and the crowd giving a standing ovation.

"Wow," said Mr Jones as he drove them home, "you two, the chemistry was undeniable. For a couple of hours I totally forgot you were my wife and my son, and I totally believe you were two young idiots whose love for each other would lead you to tragically kill yourselves."

"Thanks Dad," said Graeme.

"You know, dead," his mum said to his dad, "just while this show is running, I might move into the basement with Graeme in the evening."

"Oh?" said his dad.

She shrugged. "You know, it's one of those theatre superstitions."

"Well," he said, "if it keeps you turning out performances like that, I say do whatever works. You know, that bedroom scene was so authentic, for a moment I almost believed the two of you were... you know."

Graeme and his mum shared a knowing look. "Good use of lighting and silhouettes," he said.

"It's not that kind of play," she said.