Centre Stage

Don't Go

He looked at her, unsure what to do. Well, no, he knew EXACTLY what he wanted to do. He was just unsure if he SHOULD do it.

"Kitten?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled. He blushed now. Nodding sheepishly.

"Well, you can be a little wildcat, you know." He smirked and waited for the denial that didn't come.

"You said you had something for me to read?" She tried to hang onto normality when, in fact, all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms. Arms, she was no longer entirely sure were hers to jump into.

"Ah yes, he dragged his mind out of the bed he so desperately wanted to take her to and into the room. "I've had an email. From a friend. An interested party shall we say. He's coming to the preview night. He's interested in meeting you." Tom turned his laptop, indicating she should read. She tentatively sat down and tried to concentrate.

Her eyes skimmed the document, then to his face, then back. She re-read it. Then she paused and put a hand over her mouth, tears falling like a waterfall.

"He wants to see me? But how? I mean, why? Who told.... you?"

Tom smiled and nodded. "All the time you thought I was holding you back. All the nights I made you change and relearn, and all the days you hated me..."

"I never hated you!"

"Yes. You did. I know you did. It's ok, kitten." He smiled, and she looked down, ashamed. "Ken wants to see you in action. He can only go on so much from word of mouth. You're heading for the big time, Lucy. If you want it. You can have anything if you want it." He sat on the edge of the desk and looked down at her where she sat reading.

She turned, her heart racing. This was so much to take in. Him, Ken, the play.

"I, I need to go. I need to think. Can.. can I talk to you later? I know you must be so busy. You'll have a million things to do..." For some inexplicable reason, she started to panic. After the weeks of building up her wall, convincing herself she wasn't worthy, all this was too much.

Tom stood and put a gentle hand on her arm.

"You're ok, Lucy." He could see the panic in her eyes, hear the distress in her voice.

"But, why did you...you won't want...Ive been so horrible... I can't face..." all her thoughts tumbled out randomly.

Tom looked at her, pulling her close.
"Don't go. Please?" His voice soft, pleading, husky, irresistible.

He stood over her, so close now she could feel his breath on her face. Her heart thudded in her chest, her stomach a churning bag of snakes.

She could feel the door behind her, the glossy wood cold against her skin. Skin that felt like it was on fire. Just by looking at her the way he was now, she was on fire.

"And if I stay?" She said softly, biting her lip. She hardly dared think what the answer might be.
Tom said nothing. He reached down and stroked her cheek, tracing its curve gently to her neck. Touching delicately, as one might touch something more delicate than air, more fragile than a wisp of smoke. She closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. There was no point in denying it any longer. To him, to herself.

Tom gently grasped her jaw and drew her closer. His lips almost touching hers but not quite, he began to whisper her name. Over and over, almost like a prayer. He searched her face, his eyes flitting from hers to her lips and back. ".... what have you done to me...." he got closer and closer until, at last, their lips touched.

Then didn't. Torture. Exquisite torture.

She gasped, the feeling making her legs buckle, and her insides burst into flames. They smiled at each other, merely millimetres apart. Slowly, he slid his hands on either side of her face and just looked.