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me up. "Ive been wet for you since you showed up this morning."
She kissed me, and I slipped inside her, pushing up and forward. I kept kissing her as I flicked her clit more quickly. She began to tremble and pushed her tongue deeper into my mouth. I went inside her again and fucked her once more before coming back out and letting my fingers whip over her clit. I rubbed her avidly, and we both moaned as she came, digging her fingers into my back and kissing me desperately.
"Thanks," I whispered, taking her earlobe gently between my lips. I disengaged myself and started putting her back together while she sucked my fingers clean. Then I got dressed, and we kissed once more before returning to the meeting, a mere five minutes late.
Masha and I became even closer over the following weeks. We had so much in common it was surprising. We were like sisters one moment, like lovers the next, but mostly we were a dangerous twosome, sharing exploits and plotting schemes. I loved the way she saw things. She was both the most fun loving and the most sensible person Id ever known. When it came to taking care of me, and of us she was a pro.
She remained committed to our mutual non-monogamy, convincing me easily that we needed to grow sexually, especially if we wanted to stay together. At times I was jealous. She had ways of convincing me, though, that there was no need to be. Eventually, I grew secure. She was always honest with me, and always there when I needed her. Plus, I loved having sex with other women, so I could hardly complain.
Rehearsals were moving along, though we still had not worked on the nightmare scene, and I was getting nervous. I had done zero work on it by myself, and according to the schedule, I was supposed to rehearse it with Josh and Robin in a week. I knew Josh would expect me to have at the very least thought about it before the rehearsal. Probably hed want me to actually do it for him, and then hed want to make adjustments to my approach.
The night before the rehearsal, I went to the drama department and holed up in one of the dance studios, perusing the script and trying to figure the scene out. I had no idea what to do, but I went through the motions. I created some semblance of the set using the blocks that were set aside for such things. Then I read the stage directions several times, wondering what the scene was even about. I was in the midst of confusion when I heard a knock.
Masha peeked around the door, smiling.
"Hey, little girl," she said, "wanna come home with me?"
"Not now," I said, attempting to look stern.
She pouted and sat down on the block beside me. I immersed myself in the script. After a moment, she pulled it out of my hands and kissed me,
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her tongue demanding, her fingers pushing into all the openings of my clothes. I pushed her away, suddenly angry.
"Masha, do you know what tomorrow is?" I demanded.
"Tuesday?" she said lamely.
"Well, yes, but its also the day Ive gotta rehearse that goddamn scene," I shouted. "And I have to work on it. Do you understand?"
"Oh, no," she said quietly, "I would have no idea about that. Since I clearly have never worked on a scene before."
There was a dangerous silence as we glared at each other.
"Look," she said, "Im not an idiot. What do think Im doing down here at 11:00 on a Monday night? I came down here hoping to find you so I could help you. I wouldve offered before, but I kept waiting for you to ask."
"Well, then why did you get all distracting just now? If you wanted to help me, I mean. Because that doesnt help." I pouted at the floor.
"I keep telling you thats the only way I know how to be with you," she said. "I know its absurd. At this point we should be more than that to each other. And we are—I mean, you are to me. But . . ." she stopped.
I sighed impatiently.
"But I want you so much that its hard." She came over and handed me the script. I looked at it blankly.
"So," she started, "what is this scene about?"
We worked late into the night, my anger turning to shame as I saw her earnestly trying to help me. I had forgotten, in my lust, about her talent and experience. I had forgotten about the professors who raved over her, the freshman girls who wanted to be her. Id forgotten shed studied long and hard, in Russia and in London and summers in Minneapolis. Certainly she was no slouch. And under her tutelage, neither was I.
By morning I could cry on cue, just thinking about the scene. We had focused on the one word of dialogue I had—"Mama"—and dissected it. Masha had helped me to see that I was not simply remembering my mother, not just missing her, but actually wanting her and expecting her to come. Rose was, after all, waking up at two in the morning. She was groggy and didnt (we decided) even remember her mother was dead. She was actually expecting her to show up. When I thought of it like that, it was easy. The whole thing just fell into place.
I did go home with Masha that night. We got in around 3:00, and I made love to her with everything I had. It was time to wake up before we fell asleep, and we were sprawled on top of each other when I let it slip, after 20 minute of thinking it at top volume.
"I love you," I whispered, having to say it but hoping she somehow wouldnt hear.
She kissed me, smiling into my mouth.
"I was wondering when you would figure that out," she said softly. Then she got up and went
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