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Me, naked, tied to his bed. Him, in his business best, crawling over me, then taunting wickedly, “You thought I was vanilla? Spread your legs and let me show you how wrong you are, Ms. Mouton.”
“Ready, Betty! Action!”
I jumped and practically leaped onto stage, totally forgetting what I was supposed to be doing.
Oh, yeah. Looking at my new apartment in wonder.
Not a stretch because my brain was still frazzled enough to make me look dopey and lost after that little fantasy.
Focusing again, I started reading and acting the scene with my script in hand. As expected, Peter stopped and started us occasionally, telling us where we’d be on the stage at each point in the scene.
“Go upstage, right when on that part,” said Peter at one point. “The bathroom door will be over there.”
We diligently took notes in our scripts.
It was when we got to the first kissing scene that I shifted nervously. There was a sofa on stage for our use, a placeholder for the seventies-style couch we’d use for the performance.
“Stop,” said Peter. “Okay, Betty, I’m going to need you to sort of sexy this up.”
Bennett was sitting on the sofa, knees wide apart, hands casually on his thighs. I could imagine a number of ways to sexy this up, but I needed more direction. And a kick in the ass to remember that this wasacting.
“Can you be more specific?” I focused on Peter, trying to ignore the flame of heat crawling up my neck where I could feel Bennett’s stare.
“Sure, sure. So remember, you’re newlyweds. Corie is a wild, passionate person.”
I knew this already. I’d added my own touch to her personality in my mind, but I suppose I needed permission or specific instructions before I went wild on myhusband.
“Your new husband is a stuffy lawyer who isn’t keen on the apartment you found. So you need to butter him up a bit. Remind him that a small apartment means you can cozy up and keep each other warm. So, sit on his lap, tug on his tie, pet him.”
I nodded as Peter went on, but when I glanced at Bennett, he seemed to be trying his damnedest to keep a straight face.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.
“You have no idea.” Then he let a fiendish grin slip and patted his thighs. “Come here. I won’t bite.”
That was a lie. He was absolutely a biter. I could pretend that even in his business best, he was a stuffed shirt like his character Paul, but the truth was in those wicked eyes and teasing smile. One truth I knew for sure, Bennett was a devil in bed.
Ignoring the pleasant shiver running down my spine, I noted he was wearing a tie since he’d come from work.
“I didn’t realize grocery store owners wore ties,” I told him, trying to change topics as I crossed the stage to start the scene over.
“You know a lot of grocery store owners?”
“Just the one. But doesn’t it get in the way of, like, checking stock or the deli and whatnot?”
“How so?” He kept his casual pose, lounging back like a lion at rest, watching over his pride. Or perhaps, waiting for his female to deliver a tasty carcass so he could pounce on her instead.
“What if your tie gets caught in a cheese slicer or something? From all of those cheese and charcuterie trays you’re making.”
He laughed because we both knew he wasn’t the one working the deli.
But I needed levity, for Christ’s sake!
I couldn’t just go waltzing up and spreading my body on top of Bennett without loosening up a bit.
“Let’s go, Betty!” Peter hurried me up.
Glancing down at my script, I said the opening lines where Corie was trying to defend the small, drafty apartment as I sauntered over to my exhausted, grouchy husband.
