Dramatic License

"I don't want to cause you any hurt." That came out very gently. This was the weirdest situation I had been in, ever. Up until I went steady with Sarah, my romantic history was me collecting rejections. I still liked Sylvia, although her drastic mood swings gave me pause.

"Please, come to the meeting. If not for me, then do it for the club," she begged.

"What club?" I asked her. "It's just the two of us right now. Unless we can convince the others, there won't be a club."

"I. Will. Not. Fail," Sylvia growled. "I won't be humiliated like this."

"What are you talking about?"

"Chris, I told everyone about the drama club. When it doesn't come to pass, there will be no end of the gossip. I can't have that."

"You seriously need to wind down, girl," I said, half-joking. Our eyes met and she closed the distance between us. "Take me to bed, please?" she purred.

"You're a big girl, you'll manage," I said, sliding past her. My hand caught a seam of her gown and pulled it open. "Sorry."

"I mean it. Tuck me in, then you can go. And tell me you'll be there on Saturday. I don't want to do this without you."

"Fine. Here are some ground rules. No more hitting on me, especially in front of others. And if Saturday goes poorly, I'm out. Done, Finito. I don't mind being friends with you. Heck, you're the only person I really know at Uni, and I don't want to lose you."

"This way," Sylvia said. "I can take your hand, can't I?"

There was no harm in that, was there? I allowed her to guide me from the kitchen, through the hallway and into her bedroom. The walls were painted a light purple and thick burgundy drapes nearly swallowed the window. But most impressive was her bed, an honest-to-god four poster, wide enough for three. Despite myself, I whistled in appreciation. This room, with its antique vanity and mirror, huge wardrobe and bed made me feel like I was in one of those gothic romances I'd read. I heard the rustling of fabric nearby. Turning my head, I saw Sylvia disrobing at the vanity. Only wearing her panties, she sat down at the table, holding out a hairbrush with an ivory grip.

"You can't be serious," I whispered, more to myself.

"I always brush my hair before sleeping," she said, smiling at me through the mirror. "And since you're here and promised to tuck me in..."

The sensible part of me wanted to turn and leave, quit her games and never look back. Instead, curiosity won over.

"Fine." Stepping behind her, I took the brush. Thankfully, I'd done that a couple of times for Sarah as well. Sylvia's hair was a mess, thanks to not being brushed before she ran to Uni this morning, but I managed to get through without hurting her. Every time my hands brushed her neck or shoulders, she would sigh in pleasure. I tried not to to stare, but it was difficult not look at her heaving breasts, nipples hardened to two dark nubs atop her pale orbs. And then I saw it. She had displaced her panties and was fingering herself. I stopped brushing her hair. Our eyes met in the mirror. Her smile was radiant.

"I'm not hitting on you. You are so gentle, so nice to me, I couldn't help myself," she whispered, raising two fingers just under my nose. I could smell her scent, slightly musky and so different from Sarah's. I gnashed my teeth. This was spiralling out of control way too fast.

"Well, I'll be off then," I said, handing her the brush. I wasn't angry. No. That would have been easy. I was horny and confused, which made this so much more dangerous.

"I'm not tucked in yet," she pouted, rising from her chair. The panties, already precariously low on her hips, slid to the floor and she stepped out of them.

"You'll manage just fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Hopefully you've cooled off until then." When she opened her arms to embrace me, I beat a retreat. I expected more tears, real or faked, but I got a door in my face. The bang of the slammed bedroom door was like a punch to the gut. I snatched up my bag and cane and left, glad for the fresh air.

* * * *

"Hey, Chris? Chris!" someone called while I waited at the university bus stop. It wasn't Sylvia, thankfully, but only when the person came closer did I recognize Monica, the girl from Media Studies who wanted to join the drama club.

"Oh, hi."

"Don't tell me 'didn't see you there'," she laughed. "When was the first drama club meeting again?"

"It's the day after tomorrow, half past eight, at Sylvia's," I explained. "Didn't she phone you?" I was pretty sure I had given Sylvia both Monica's name and number.

"Nope," Monica said. "I thought you guys had forgotten about me."

The bus came and the both of us got in. I explained how to find Sylvia's apartment and then got off at my stop. Sarah wouldn't be home until much later in the afternoon, so there was no point in going to her dorm. Besides, a few hours of peace and quiet would do me good after what just had happened.

Thankfully, my neighbors were asleep or stoned or dead or whatever and I had little trouble entering my own room. I flopped onto my bed, trying to make sense of the events from earlier.

So Sylvia wanted to have sex with me, enough that her panties soaked through? I hoped it was arousal and not a bladder malfunction, but then, she wouldn't be so proud of the latter, now would she? Only if she was really, really weird. And it couldn't get much weirder than what happened in her bedroom. Stuff like that only happened in porn, with a much more willing male protagonist, right? The scary thing was that I could see myself giving in to her. I loved Sarah, but there was no denying that sex with her, if it happened at all, was just the same thing every time. I couldn't help it, but the thought of Sylvia hitting on me felt awesome, even if it was totally wrong.

I needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't Sarah. She would probably rip my head off for sticking with Sylvia. The sensible thing would be to ask her if we could shake up our sex life, but there was no need to heap any more crap onto her plate. Maybe there was another way to fix this. I left my apartment, headed down one floor and knocked at Tom's door.

He opened amidst a huge billow of sweet smoke. I heard clothes rustle behind him. "Who is it, honey?" his lay of the week purred.

"My drum machine. Come in, dude," Tom slurred, throwing the door wide. He wore only a pair of boxers and a blonde beauty was busy pulling her pants up.

"I can come back later if you want to... get it on again," I said, backpedalling.

"I just took two of his loads, I think I'll need a break anyway," the blonde said, licking her lips.

"What can I say, I'm a stud," Tom chuckled, flopping down on his bed and fishing for his weed chest. It took him only a few moments to roll up a new blunt.

"And you like making a mess out of me," the girl said, laughing. "Next time, let's do it at my place. I can at least take a shower there." She bent over his sink and washed her face.

"Sure thing."

She left and Tom sighed. "You know what she said?"

I flopped into his desk chair. "Nope. What?"

"She wouldn't mind a threesome and if I knew any hot stud for that."

"Ask Jan," I said, referring to our bassist.

"What, not interested in a hot DP session?" Tom asked. "She saw you on one of our gig pics. Liked what she saw."

"And what about Sarah?"

"That's the awesome thing. She wouldn't mind trying out some carpet munching. Your girl up for that?"

"Hell no. And I don't think she'd like it if I poked another broad either. Which brings me to the reason I'm here. Dude, I need help."

Tom leaned out of bed and lit the blunt, inhaling deeply. "Shoot. Oh, you want?" He waved the smoking cone in my general direction.

"Right now? Yeah, why not." Sarah didn't approve of me smoking, but Tom and I shared the occasional blunt. I mean, I was sitting in his weed fumes most of the time anyway when using his PC, so I could go straight to the source, right? I took a long drag and held the smoke for a moment. The calm came pretty quick.

"Whoa, that's kinda strong," I said, exhaling.

"Got a new supplier. More expensive, but much, much better than the oregano I've been smoking before," Tom said with a grin. "So, what's bugging you?"

"There's this chick at Uni who wants to fuck me." I said.

"Congrats! How'd it go?"

"I don't want to fuck her, though. I think."

"What, she ugly?"

"Hell no." And I told him everything, interrupted by long drags from the blunt. It felt good to puke it all out. When I was done, he cocked his head.

"So?"

"I'm looking for advice. You're the ladies' man around here."

"What can I say? Guitarists get all the chicks. Okay, advice." He blew a long cone of smoke under the ceiling.

"There are only two outcomes here," he said. "First, the sensible choice. Stop seeing her, stop talking to her, and most of all, don't play her games. This chick sounds crazy."

A long pause.

"The other one. You keep on seeing her, treating her like a friend, and you'll never get rid of her. If I were you, I'd go for it. Let her have a night with you, get it out of her system. Sarah needn't know."

"Might work for you, but not for me," I said, mildly annoyed. I was far too high for real anger, and whenever I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Sylvia, naked, framed by the light coming in through her window, arms spread. My dick hurt. "I have no idea if I can keep that kind of secret."

"Then you'll have no other choice but to tell her tomorrow that you're quitting that drama bullshit. Good bye, bitch, and all that."

"Yeah, I totally will," I said. Even to my ears, it sounded lame.

Tom coughed. "Aw, fuck. And that was the filter. Hey, how about a few games?" He climbed past me, nearly rubbing his ass in my face and flicked on his PC.

"Sure, I'm down."

"Cool. Pick one, I'll make some food."

I didn't leave that chair until four in the morning.

* * * *

Tom was kind enough to kick me out of bed the next morning. I felt horrible, as if my brain was put into a skull two sizes too small. I smelled of smoke, roasted bacon toasts and beer. Without a proper shower, I would have to go to University like that. I tied my hair into a ponytail, threw on my freshest clothes, made a mental note that I needed to visit the Laundromat and dragged myself to the Language Tower. I was late and my Media Studies prof wasn't too happy but I managed to soothe him by pulling the blindness card. "Sorry, I took the wrong bus. Can happen to anyone, right?" Grudgingly, he let me sign the attendance sheet. I slumped into a seat at the back of the room and was promptly out like a light until a hand shook me.

"Wake up," a gentle voice whispered into my ear. I forced my eyes open and looked at Monica, her face mere inches from mine. She smiled fondly. "You snored. Loud enough for the prof to ask who partied too hard last night."

"Aww fuck. Am I screwed?"

In response, Monica handed me a stack of papers. "Here, my notes. Pull copies and give them back to me tomorrow."

"You're awesome," I said, genuinely touched.

"Don't mention it. Just let's make sure that drama club gets off its ass already. I'll see you tomorrow, sleepyhead." She ruffled my hair and left. I stashed her notes and followed suit. The next course was Novels & Narratology, another one I had with Sylvia. When I entered the classroom, she wasn't there again. This time, she didn't show up at all, not even for the afternoon courses. When I was done with my classes, I used the payphone in the foyer to call her. Not that I had high hopes after her no-show. As expected, no one picked up.

I left the Language Tower and waited at the bus stop. Fridays was band practice and by now, we had a good routine going. At around half past five, Tom drove up in an old van owned by the oven building company where he interned. Jan and Sarah were already there, sitting on the dusty bench seats.

"So, what about the concert tomorrow?" Sarah asked me after hugging me.

"I can't. Haven't seen Sylvia the last two days. I need to go tomorrow. I want this to end properly."

"You owe her nothing," Sarah said. "Just don't go."

"You know me. I'll like things to be tidy," I sighed.

"Damn Virgos," Tom laughed from the driver's seat. "Sarah's right though."

"I have to live with her the rest of the semester, not you guys," I said.

"And from what Sarah has told me, she's a real handful. Tell you what. Jan and I will take Sarah to that concert while you deal with that fury. If that's okay with you, girl."

"I'd have preferred going with Chris, but at least I'm going to see the band."

"You'll have fun," I purred into her ear. "By the time the concert is over, I'll be at your dorm, waiting for you, naked on your bed."

Her eyes lit up. "I'd love to see that."

* * * *

I used Saturday morning to do some chores. Laundromat, copy shop, groceries. Well, dried insta-food. I had no stove, so when not eating out or with Sarah, it was bagged noodles or cup soup or similar crap, which didn't go bad and only required boiling water to make. I tried to go through Monica's notes, but with my neighbors at each other's throats, learning was tough. Around noon, I had enough and went to see Sarah.

On my way, I weighed my options. Tom was right, there were only two. Either burn all bridges or go on, see what happens. Which would inevitably end up in Sylvia's bed, if she had her way. So, the sensible thing would be to cut all ties tonight. No fuss, just a quick visit, let her know I was out.

Why was I struggling so hard with the decision anyway? It's not like I wanted to get laid by her, right? I quickly looked around at the bus stop. No one there. I dug my hands into my trouser pockets and righted my dick, throbbing hard and bent at an uncomfortable angle. When was the last time thinking about Sarah had me this hard? The arriving bus yanked me out of my thoughts.

I used the bus ride to convince myself that after today, I would be done with Sylvia. I didn't want to cheat on Sarah, not after she secured a place to live for the both of us.

We didn't talk about Sylvia or my drama club meeting at all. I would have loved nothing better than to come clean, but Sarah was so hyped for the concert, I didn't want to ruin her mood by dragging up that issue again. If things went my way, today was the last day I had to bother with Sylvia anyway. I tried to tuck away my unease. Light at the end of the tunnel and all that. It didn't work out too well. Sarah mentioned several times I wasn't there a hundred percent and around seven, I was more agitated than ever. Jan and Tom picked her up at around seven-thirty, so I had at least another hour to kill. I took the bus to university and walked the rest. At a quarter past eight, I rang the bell. Sylvia buzzered me in at once and I entered the hallway.

When I came up the stairs, I heard music waft into the stairwell. The smell of food came next. And then I saw her, framed by the warm light from her apartment hallway. She wore a sheer dressing gown over a set of black lingerie, garter belt and thigh-high stockings. I paused in mid-step. The sensible choice would be to turn around and go, this was suspicious as all hell. But then, what could she do to me? Handcuff me to her bed and rape me? I wanted this to end cleanly, so I continued up the stairs.

"You're early," she said by way of greeting, spreading her arms to embrace me.

I stopped, a good two steps away from her. "May I come in please? We need to talk."

"Oh, where are my manners. Sure, by all means." She let me pass and closed the door. I heard her fiddle with something behind me while I put down my bag and cane and struggled out of my jacket.

"Anyone else here yet?" I asked her, turning around. She was directly behind me, enveloping me in her scent. She had recently showered or bathed and smelled of a flowery perfume.

"Told you, you're early. The meeting is scheduled for nine pm." She didn't touch me, but she didn't need to. Her scent told volumes, as did her outfit.

"You're putting on more clothes, right?" I warily asked her, taking a small step away from her.

"Before the others come, yes."

"So, why did you ask me to be here half an hour early?"

"Originally, I thought a bit of time for just the two of us would be great, so we could iron out the last details. But after what I did Thursday, I wanted to apologize for my inappropriate behaviour. I've made us dinner. You like pasta?"

"Who doesn't?" I didn't like to be played with, but then, she seemed genuine enough. "You might want to dress though. I told Monica that our meeting was at half past eight as well."

"I'll slip on something less revealing in a moment. But first, let's eat." She took my hand and shot me an inquiring look.

"Go on," I said. Tenderly, she caressed the back of my hand, then she guided me into the kitchen. She had put a checkered tablecloth over the table, a candle was burning. The pots on the stove smelled delicious.

"I made enough for a small army," Sylvia beamed. "Sit."

I did as she asked and took a chair. She produced two plates and heaped them with pasta and sauce.

"Dig in," she said, placing a plate in front of me.

I sniffed appreciatively. "Smells tasty."

"I'm not going to poison you," Sylvia growled behind me.

I heard glass tinkle, then the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle. I picked up my fork and tried the food. The sauce was fiery as all hell, but tasted great.

"I hope you don't mind it hot," Sylvia said, setting down a wine flute in front of me. It was filled with a dark red.

"No, not at all," I replied, going for the wine and taking a sip. It was very sweet and heavy.

Sylvia picked up her fork and dug in too. We ate in silence. Occasionally, I caught her watching me intently, a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. The wine helped in dealing with the flaming hot sauce and by the time I had polished off my plate, I was looking at my second glass, half empty already.

"Where is that friend of yours?" she asked, glancing at the kitchen clock. I checked my watch. It was almost nine and Monica hadn't appeared.

"On that note, where are the others?" I asked Sylvia.

"No clue," she said, clearing the table. She left the candle and the wine. It was getting warmer around me. Must've been the hot food. Or the wine. Or both.

"So, quick last-minute briefing," she said, returning with the booklets and a note pad. I hadn't noticed she had gone and when I looked up, she wore her dark red dressing gown again, gone was the sheer thing she had on earlier.

"You think that appropriate for a drama club meeting?" I asked her, gesturing her way with the wine glass.

"Sure, why not? No one said anything about full dress code. So, which one are we going to do?" She fanned out the booklets on the table.

"Professor Kaiser likes 'Hamlet'," I said, blinking. The wine was pretty strong and I began to feel light-headed. "The cast is pretty big though."

"As with all halfway decent plays. We can improvise and have people use multiple roles, especially the extras. I'm more a MacBeth girl," she said, her smile widening.

"We could do 'Wyrd Sisters' by Terry Pratchett. It's 'MacBeth', only in funny," I suggested.

"Never heard of it," she said, dismissively waving a hand.

"You don't know Pratchett?" I asked, aghast.

"Nope. I don't do funny."

"Read it, it's great," I suggested. "Okay, you know what? Let's do 'MacBeth', instead. Provided the rest shows up eventually."

"Did you give that Monica the right address?" Sylvia asked, refilling my glass.

"Of course," I scoffed, checking my watch. Past nine already. I mean, we were dealing with university students, who were notoriously tardy and it was Saturday. But five no-shows out of five invitations? That was odd.

"You know what, let me make a few phone calls real quick," Sylvia said. I took another sip from the wine. She rose and left the kitchen. I heard her pick up the phone and go into a room off the hallway with it.