10. Eden

10

EDEN

E den's breath caught in her throat as Genevieve's nimble fingers worked at the straps of the harness, her eyes fixed on the glistening shaft of the dildo. The air felt thick with the heady scent of their shared pleasure and Eden’s every nerve was electric with anticipation.

Genevieve's voice was husky as she detached the toy, her eyes lidded with desire. "I want to watch you," she purred, holding out the dildo to Eden. "Show me how you like to fuck yourself.”

A flutter of nervousness tickled Eden's stomach as she accepted the offering. She'd never been one for performative sexuality, preferring to lose herself in the moment rather than put on a show. But something about Genevieve's hungry gaze made her want to please, to impress.

Settling back against the arm of the couch, Eden spread her legs again, hyper-aware of Genevieve's eyes roving over her exposed flesh. She traced the tip of the dildo along her inner thigh, teasing herself as much as her rapt audience. When she finally pressed it against her entrance, she was surprised by how desperately her pussy still ached for more. Even having already climaxed, she felt this insatiable hunger whenever she was in Genevieve’s presence.

The director hummed with approval as Eden worked the toy inside herself, her hips rising to meet each thrust. "That's it, baby," she encouraged, her hand snaking between her own thighs. "Show me just how greedy you are."

Emboldened by Genevieve's words, Eden picked up her pace, fucking herself with abandon. She watched with her own voyeuristic fascination as Genevieve pleasured herself, fingers working furiously at her clit. The sight was intoxicating, spurring Eden on until she was gasping and writhing.

Just as Eden felt herself nearing the edge, Genevieve clamped her thighs together, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she threw her head back into the cushions. The wanton sound of her powerfully seductive director climaxing just from watching her had Eden’s blood heating with pure, shameless lust, and she redoubled her efforts, chasing her own release for a second time.

But before she could reach it, Genevieve was there, yanking the dildo from Eden's grasp. Eden barely had time to whimper at the loss before Genevieve's mouth descended on her, hot and insistent.

"Oh fuck ," Eden moaned, her hips bucking against Genevieve's face. She threaded her fingers through silky silvery-blonde hair, holding on for dear life as Genevieve's tongue worked magic on her swollen clit and then plunged inside of her.

It didn't take long. Eden's orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as pulses of pleasure radiated right to her fingertips. Genevieve didn't let up, lapping at her hungrily until Eden tugged her away, over-sensitized and trembling.

As the aftershocks subsided, Genevieve sat back, silently gathering Eden into her arms. Eden allowed herself to be held, basking in the afterglow as Genevieve traced lazy patterns on her skin with her fingers.

But as the minutes ticked by, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. This was too intimate, too tender. Eden wasn't used to being cradled like something precious, and the unfamiliar emotions it stirred within her were terrifying. She couldn’t allow herself to grow too attached.

It would be only too easy for her to start to depend on this dominant goddess who was helping her explore the full expanse of her sexuality without shame or judgement.

Panic rising in her chest, Eden scrambled for an excuse to leave. "Shit, I just remembered I promised to meet a friend for breakfast tomorrow . . . before rehearsals," she lied, extricating herself from Genevieve's embrace. "I should really get going."

Confusion and maybe even a trace of hurt flashed across Genevieve's face. "But we haven't even had dinner yet," she protested, reaching for Eden's hand.

The offer to spend more time here was tempting, more tempting than Eden wanted to admit. But the fragile walls she'd tried to build around her heart were already starting to crack, and she couldn't risk them crumbling entirely.

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Eden insisted, pulling on her clothes with trembling hands. "Maybe another time?"

Genevieve nodded, but Eden could see the disappointment in her eyes. Guilt gnawed at her as she tracked down her discarded shoes, but she pushed it aside. This was for the best. She couldn't let herself get too comfortable.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Eden leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Genevieve's cheek. "Thanks for tonight," she murmured, already backing toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

And with that, she was gone, fleeing into the night before Genevieve could see the conflict raging behind her eyes. As she hurried down the street, Eden tried to convince herself that the ache in her chest was just from exertion, and not from leaving a piece of herself behind on Genevieve's couch.

Eden swam back to consciousness slowly the next morning, her body still heavy with the lingering echoes of pleasure and slight pain from the night before. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in her curtains, painting golden stripes across her rumpled bedsheets. For a moment, she lay still, letting the memories wash over her.

Genevieve's hands, strong and sure, tracing paths of fire across her skin. The taste of expensive wine on her lips, mingling with the salt of sweat and arousal. The way Genevieve had looked at her, eyes dark with want, as she'd watched her fuck herself.

A shiver ran down Eden's spine, equal parts contentment and anxiety. What had she gotten herself into? This wasn't supposed to happen. It was meant to be a casual arrangement, a way to explore her sexuality and improve her performance. But now . . .

She groaned, forcing herself to sit up. Her muscles protested, reminding her of just how thoroughly Genevieve had worked her over. Eden felt her cheeks heat at the thought, then immediately chastised herself. She was a grown woman, for goodness' sake. She shouldn't be blushing like a teenager just because she’d been well and truly pounded.

But as she went through the motions of her morning routine - showering, dressing, applying a light touch of makeup - Eden couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The way Genevieve had held her, the tenderness in her touch even as she'd commanded Eden's body with unwavering authority . . . it stirred something deep within her, something she wasn't sure she was ready to face.

By the time Eden arrived at the café to meet Amanda, her stomach was in knots. The familiar bustle of the Sunday brunch crowd did little to calm her nerves. She spotted her friend at their usual table, already nursing a steaming mug of coffee.

"There you are!" Amanda called out, waving Eden over. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up."

Eden slid into the seat across from her friend, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I got a bit caught up in my head this morning."

Amanda's eyes narrowed, studying Eden's face with the shrewd perception that had made her such a valuable friend over the years – albeit a sometimes annoyingly observant one. " All right, spill it. What's got you so wound up?"

For a moment, Eden considered deflecting, and making up some excuse about pre-performance jitters or family drama. But the weight of her secret pressed down on her, demanding to be shared. Eden took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I slept with Genevieve Howard," she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips as a strangled whisper.

Amanda's reaction was everything Eden had both hoped for and dreaded. Her friend's eyes widened comically, her coffee mug freezing halfway to her lips. "I'm sorry, you did what now? With the Genevieve Howard!"

Eden glanced around nervously, paranoid that someone might have overheard. "Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "It's not exactly public knowledge."

Amanda set her mug down with a decisive thunk and leaned across the table. "Eden Rowley, you better start explaining right this second. When? How? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The rapid-fire questions made Eden's head spin. She held up a hand, trying to stem the tide of Amanda's curiosity. "It just happened last night. Well . . . actually that’s a lie. I suppose we had a quickie in her office the other day . . ." she explained, Amanda’s jaw dropping closer to the floor with every word. "But last night she invited me over to hers. I'm still trying to process it all myself."

"Her apartment? Last night?" Amanda echoed, her voice rising again before she caught herself and lowered it to a stage whisper. "So, you came straight from her bed to brunch with me? Oh honey, we need details. Lots and lots of details."

Eden felt her cheeks heat up instantly. "It wasn't like that," she protested weakly. "I mean, yes, we had sex, but I didn't stay the night. It’s . . . complicated."

Amanda snorted. "Complicated? You're sleeping – or not sleeping, whatever – with your director, Eden. Your director Genevieve Howard! I’d say that's the understatement of the century."

Before Eden could respond, a waiter approached their table to take her drink order. She used the brief interruption to gather her thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside her. These were giant-hot-chocolate-with-extra-whipped-cream kind of feelings.

Once they were alone again, Amanda fixed Eden with an expectant look. " All right, start from the beginning. How did this even happen?"

Eden took a sip of water, buying herself a few more seconds. "It only started this week," she began hesitantly. "She asked me to stay back after rehearsal to run a scene just the two of us. We kissed, and it was . . . God, Mands, it was like nothing I've ever felt before."

She went on to recount the events that had led up to the previous night - the stolen moment in Genevieve's office, the growing tension between them, the way Genevieve had pushed her to explore new depths in her performance.

"And then last night, she invited me to her place," Eden concluded. "Supposedly to discuss the upcoming scenes, but we both knew what it really meant."

Amanda listened intently, her expression a mix of concern and fascination. "And? How was it?"

Eden closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Genevieve's hands on her body, the way the formidable woman had taken control so effortlessly. "It was incredible," she admitted softly. "Intense and a little overwhelming, but in the best possible way."

"Well, damn," Amanda breathed. "I knew Genevieve Howard had a reputation for being kinda ferocious, but I didn't realize that extended to the bedroom too."

Eden couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "You have no idea," she said, a small smile playing at her lips.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment of levity passed. Eden's smile faded, replaced by a look of uncertainty. "The thing is, Mands . . . I think I might be in trouble here."

Her friend reached across the table, squeezing Eden's hand reassuringly. "What do you mean?"

Eden took a shaky breath, finally voicing the fear that had been gnawing at her all morning. "I think I'm falling for her. And I'm terrified."

Amanda's eyes widened, her grip on Eden's hand tightening. "Oh, sweetie," she murmured. "How’d you get sucked in so quick?"

Eden shook her head, feeling lost. "I don't know. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We agreed it was just casual, just a way for me to explore and improve my performance."

"But now it's more than that," Amanda finished for her.

"So much more," Eden admitted. "The way she looks at me . . . it's like she can see right through me, right down to my soul. And when we're together, it's not just about the physical stuff. There's this connection, this intensity that I've never felt with anyone else."

Amanda nodded encouragingly, prompting Eden to continue.

"Last night, after we . . . you know," Eden blushed, lowering her voice, "she wanted to hold me. I think she was just worried I was a little overwhelmed, I don’t know. But it just felt so right, so like . . . like I never wanted to move again. It was all too much, too soon. I had to get out of there."

"That sounds pretty serious," Amanda observed.

Eden groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I know. And that's exactly what scares me. I wasn't looking for this. I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

Amanda gently pried Eden's hands away from her face. "Hey, look at me. Why does this scare you so much?"

Eden met her friend's concerned gaze, feeling as vulnerable as if she were stark naked in the middle of this café. "Because . . . because what if I'm not enough for her? Genevieve is this incredible, talented, powerful woman. And I'm just . . . me. She already told me she couldn’t give me a relationship."

"Just you?" Amanda repeated incredulously. "Eden, you're an amazingly talented actress. You're kind, you're funny, you're gorgeous. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

Eden gave a weak smile, grateful for her friend's support. But the doubts still nagged at her. "It's not just that," she said softly. "There's something else . . ."

Amanda leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued in the way Eden had only ever seen when she was uncovering the juiciest gossip. "What is it?"

Eden took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "When I'm with Genevieve, it's like . . . I can finally let go. Of all the pressure, all the expectations. She takes control, and I feel safe enough to just . . . surrender."

Understanding dawned in Amanda's eyes. "Oh," she said. "Oh, I see."

"It's not just in the bedroom," Eden hurried to explain. "Although that's definitely part of it. But even in rehearsals, when she's directing me . . . I trust her completely. I know she'll push me, challenge me, but never beyond what I can handle. And I feel like I can’t let myself fall into that feeling too deeply. If I started to depend on her, I have no idea what I’d do if it all came to an end."

Amanda nodded slowly. "That's a pretty powerful thing, Eden. To find someone you trust that much to totally let go. You’re an overthinker at the best of times."

"Tell me about it," Eden agreed. "And that's what scares me even more. I've never felt this way before, never allowed myself to be this vulnerable with anyone. What if I'm reading too much into it? What if for her, it really is just casual?"

"Have you talked to her about any of this?" Amanda asked gently.

Eden shook her head. "How can I? We agreed it was basically just physical. If I tell her how I'm feeling, she might end things altogether. And I can't risk that, Amanda. I can't risk losing what we have going, or jeopardizing my role in the play."

Amanda sighed, squeezing Eden's hand again. "Oh, honey. You've really gotten yourself into a tangle, haven't you?"

Eden felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "I don't know what to do, Mands. I'm falling in love with her . . . and fast, and I don't know how to stop it."

The word 'love' hung in the air between them. Eden hadn’t really considered this until it suddenly fell from her lips, and then the reality of it hit her like a physical blow.

"Wow," Amanda breathed. "Love. That's . . . that's big."

"Talk about a giant clusterfuck," Eden murmured, her mind wandering so far away that she forgot to blink until her eyes started to burn.

Amanda was quiet for a long moment, letting her dear friend process her thoughts at her own pace. "Well," she said finally, "I think you need to take some time to really sort out your feelings before you do anything."

"What do you mean?" Eden asked.

"I mean, are you sure this is love? Or is it just the intensity of the situation? Working closely with someone, especially someone as charismatic as Genevieve, can create pretty powerful emotions."

Eden considered. "I've thought about that," she admitted. "But this feels different. It's not just attraction or admiration. When I'm with her, I feel . . . whole. Like I've found a part of myself I didn't even know was missing."

Amanda’s softening expression had a lump forming in Eden’s throat, threatening to have her blubbering right there at the table. "I can’t say I know much about it, but that does kinda sound like love," she agreed. "But Eden, you need to remember something important."

"What's that?"

"You are an incredibly talented, amazing person in your own right. With or without Genevieve, with or without this play. Don't lose sight of that, okay?"

Eden clamped her lips together, fighting that rising lump with everything she had. "Thank you," she eventually whispered.

"I mean it," Amanda insisted. "Whatever happens with her, whatever you decide to do, don't forget your own worth. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are and cherishes you for it."

Eden nodded, blinking back hot tears. "I'll try to remember that."

"Good," Amanda said firmly. "Now, order some food. I don't know about you, but I need some pancakes to process all this drama."

Eden laughed despite herself, grateful for her friend's ability to lighten the mood. As they perused the menu, she felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. She might not have all the answers, but at least she wasn't facing this alone.

Once she’d devoured an entire stack of blueberry pancakes, barely pausing to breathe, Amanda glanced back up to find Eden furiously chewing on her bottom lip. "Can you try getting out of your head for like, a second? You can’t afford to let a good avo toast go to waste!”

Eden groaned. For a professional actress, she had no damn poker face. "I'll try. It's just . . . I can't stop thinking about her, about us. What if I come out of this even more fucked up than I already am?"

"You won't," Amanda assured her, letting slip a bewildered snort. "You're smart, you're talented, and you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Whatever happens, you'll handle it."

Eden took a deep steadying breath, trying to internalize her friend's words. Mands loved a good mantra, after all. "You're right. I know you're right. I just need to focus on the play, on my performance."

"Exactly. And remember, I'm here for you, no matter what. If you need to talk, or cleanse your chakras, or just sit in silence eating ice cream and watching trashy movies, I'm your girl."

Eden laughed, feeling that familiar surge of affection for her eccentric friend. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, obviously," Amanda teased. "Why don’t you take your food to go, hm? Head home, get some rest, masturbate at will, and try not to overthink things too much, okay?"

They hugged goodbye for long enough that people started to stare, and Eden found herself feeling slightly better as she made her way home. Spilling every last thought and emotion to Amanda had helped her process it all, even if she was still tangled up in her anxiety about what would come next.

Back in her room, Eden tried to distract herself by working on the script. She spread her notes across her desk, determined to focus on Beatrice's character arc, rather than her own tumultuous reality.

But concentration proved elusive. Every other line reminded her of Genevieve - a note scribbled in the margin about vocal inflection, a highlighted passage they'd discussed in rehearsal. Eden found her mind wandering, replaying moments she’d spent alone with Genevieve, one delicious scene at a time.

“Masturbate at will.”

Eden shook her head, chuckling to herself at the echo of Amanda’s parting advice. Had it been so obvious that her blood was roiling, all adrenaline and oxytocin and whatever other chemicals that made up this intoxicating sexual awakening? Eden picked up her phone, half-hoping to see a message from Genevieve. But the screen remained stubbornly blank.

Should she text first? What would she even say? Thanks for the mind-blowing sex. By the way, I think I'm falling in love with you ?

Eden groaned and tossed the mobile onto her bed. As the afternoon wore on, her anxiety about the next day's rehearsal grew. She paced her small bedroom, imagining various scenarios having to do with seeing Genevieve.

Would things be awkward? Would they both be able to act like nothing had happened? Or worse, would Genevieve regret it entirely?

"You're a professional," she muttered to her reflection in the mirror. "You can handle this. Just focus on the work."

But even as she said the words, Eden knew it wouldn't be that simple. How could she possibly concentrate on her lines when all she wanted was to feel Genevieve's touch again?

As night fell, Eden found herself unable to sit still. She cleaned her already tidy room, reorganized her bookshelf, and even considered going for a run before realising it was nearly midnight.

Finally, exhausted more from emotional turmoil than physical exertion, Eden crawled into bed. She set multiple alarms, determined not to oversleep after such a late night. The last thing she needed was to give Genevieve a reason to be disappointed in her.

As she lay in the darkness, Eden's mind raced with possibilities. Maybe Genevieve felt the same way. Maybe this was the start of something real, something that could last beyond the run of the play.

Or maybe it was all in her head. Maybe Genevieve saw her as nothing more than a temporary diversion, a pretty young thing to pass the time with.

Eden tossed and turned, unable to quiet her thoughts. When sleep finally claimed her, it was fitful and filled with dreams of Genevieve's touch.

They were back in Genevieve's elegant home. But this time, instead of fiery passion, there was tenderness. Genevieve held her close, whispering words of love and promise. Eden felt safe, cherished, complete.

But then the dream shifted. Suddenly, they were on stage, under the harsh glare of spotlights. Genevieve was directing her, her voice sharp with criticism. "This isn’t good enough, Eden," dream-Genevieve barked. "I always knew you’d disappoint me."

Eden woke with a start, her heart racing. The first light of dawn bathed her room in a dull, grey wash. She stared at the ceiling, the sound of her ragged breathing too loud to her own ears.

Fucking hell, Eden. You’re a bloody mess.