12. Eden

12

EDEN

E den's phone buzzed, startling her from the script she'd been half-heartedly reviewing. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Genevieve's name on the screen. With trembling fingers, she opened the message.

My place, 8pm. Wear something easy to remove .

A rush of conflicting emotions washed over her. Excitement, anxiety, and a deep, aching longing all vied for dominance. Eden stared at the text, her mind racing. Should she go? Could she trust herself to maintain the fa?ade of casual indifference when every fibre of her being yearned for more?

Eden paced her bedroom, phone clutched tightly in her hand. The rational part of her brain screamed that this was a terrible idea. She was already in too deep, her feelings for Genevieve growing stronger with each passing day. But another part of her, the part that craved Genevieve's touch like a drug, whispered that she could handle it. That she could bury her emotions and simply enjoy whatever stolen moments they could share.

Eden flopped onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow with a groan. She knew she was toeing a dangerous line. The smart thing would be to end it now, before she got hurt. But the thought of never feeling Genevieve's hands on her body again, never hearing her breathy moans or tasting her tongue . . . it was unbearable.

With a resigned sigh, Eden sat up. She'd made her decision. She would take what she could get, even if it meant burying her feelings so deep that they gave her a stomach-ache. Confessing would only complicate things, potentially ending not just the mind-blowing sex, but her career as well. She’d never be able to show her face in a theatre again if she lost this opportunity.

Fingers flying across the screen, Eden typed out a response. I’d strap on a jetpack, but that doesn’t scream “easy to remove” ;)

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then tossed her phone aside and began rummaging through her closet. If Genevieve wanted “easy to remove,” that's exactly what she'd get.

An hour later, Eden stood outside Genevieve's door, smoothing down the front of her wrap dress. She'd forgone underwear entirely, a fact that sent a thrill of nervous anticipation through her body. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked.

The door swung open, revealing Genevieve in a silk robe that left little to the imagination. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the temperature rising a few degrees just in their corner of the building.

"That was fast," Genevieve murmured, her eyes roving over Eden's form.

Eden nodded with a coy smile, not trusting herself to say something even remotely clever. Without another word, Genevieve reached out, grasped Eden's wrist, and pulled her inside. The door had barely closed behind them before Genevieve pushed Eden against it, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss.

Eden melted into the embrace, all her doubts and fears evaporating in the heat of Genevieve's touch. She tangled her fingers in Genevieve's hair, pulling her closer as their tongues entwined. Genevieve's hands found the tie of Eden's dress almost immediately, deftly undoing it and pushing the fabric aside.

"No underwear?" Genevieve breathed, breaking the kiss to let her gaze follow the path of her exploring hands. "Naughty girl."

Eden gasped as Genevieve's fingers brushed between her thighs, finding her already slick with arousal. "I aim to please," she managed to say between ragged pants.

Genevieve smirked against Eden's neck. "Oh, you certainly do," she purred, before dropping to her knees.

What followed was a blur of sensation and passion. Eden lost herself in the feel of Genevieve's mouth on her, in the taste of Genevieve's skin, in the sound of their mingled cries of pleasure. For those blissful hours, Eden could pretend that this was more than just sex. That the tenderness in Genevieve's touch meant something deeper.

Later, as they lay tangled in Genevieve's luxurious sheets, Eden found she was wide awake. She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at Genevieve's sleeping form. In repose, the fierce director looked softer, more vulnerable. Eden's heart swelled with emotion, her throat thickening as the yearning tried to fight its way out of her chest in the form of an anguished sigh.

She longed to reach out and trace the lines of Genevieve's face, to curl up against her and never leave. But she knew she couldn't. This wasn't that kind of arrangement. Come morning, they would go back to being director and actress, nothing more.

Carefully extricating herself from the bed, she gathered her clothes, dressing quietly in the dim light of the bedroom. With one last, lingering look at Genevieve, she slipped out, making sure the door locked behind her with a click that was almost deafening in the silence of the late hour.

At rehearsals the next day, Genevieve didn’t comment on Eden’s disappearing act.

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind of rehearsals and stolen moments. Eden threw herself into her role with renewed vigour, channelling all her conflicted emotions into her portrayal of Beatrice.

Genevieve was relentless in her direction, demanding nothing less than perfection. But there were moments, fleeting and precious, where Eden caught a softness in her eyes, a hint of something more than professional admiration.

The rest of the cast began to take notice of Eden's progress too. She gleefully overheard whispered conversations praising her portrayal of Beatrice. Comments about how Eden seemed to embody the character both on and off stage. Eden basked in the praise, but it was Genevieve's approval that she craved most.

Away from the stage, the women continued their clandestine meetings. Sometimes at Genevieve's flat and sometimes in her office, after everyone else had gone home. Each encounter left Eden both blissfully satiated and desperately hungry for more – and not just for Genevieve’s touch.

As the weeks wore on, Eden found it increasingly difficult to separate her feelings for Genevieve from their professional relationship. Every note of praise sent her heart soaring, every gentle correction felt like a caress. She often caught herself biting her lip while watching Genevieve during rehearsals, mesmerized by the way she commanded the room. If she didn’t get a handle on it soon, her barely smothered longing was sure to become public knowledge.

If it wasn’t already.

Despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in check, Eden felt herself falling deeper and deeper in love with the woman who made her feel like she could fly. She tried to rationalize it, to remind herself that this was just a temporary arrangement, but her heart refused to listen. In quiet moments, she allowed herself to imagine a future where Genevieve returned her feelings, where they could be together openly and without reservation.

But reality always intruded, harsh and unforgiving. There were too many nights where Eden lay in her room, waiting for a text that never came. Days that followed where she wouldn’t be able to tell her secret lover that she’d been hoping to hear from her. That maybe she’d love to go on a real date.

Eden soon felt like her fantasy was getting away from her. Like none of it was on her terms anymore. And the weight of that truth grew heavier with each passing day that she kept her mouth shut.

As opening night drew closer, the pressure intensified. Rehearsals became longer and more gruelling, with Genevieve pushing the entire cast to their limits. Eden welcomed the challenge – and the distraction – gladly pouring all her conflicted emotions into her performance. She used her unspoken love for Genevieve to fuel Beatrice's passion, while her frustration at their situation gave voice to Beatrice's anger at the injustices of her world.

She and Genevieve were working late after the rehearsal one night. The rest of the cast had long since departed, leaving Eden and Genevieve alone in the cavernous theatre. They'd been rehearsing a pivotal monologue, with Genevieve pushing Eden to repeat the lines until she knew them like the back of her hand.

"Again," Genevieve called from her seat in the front row. "I can still sense that you’re thinking about which line comes next. Just relax. You know this. Let yourself be present."

Eden nodded, taking several deep breaths to centre herself before launching into the speech from the top. She was exhausted and wrung out, but Genevieve was right – she knew the lines. She just had to let go. Trust herself.

Eden poured every ounce of her pent-up emotions into the words, her voice rising and falling with the cadence of Beatrice's righteous anger. As she delivered the final line, she felt as if she'd been cracked open, raw and exposed. She stood there, panting slightly, waiting for Genevieve's critique.

But instead of the usual notes, Genevieve was on her feet, striding toward up onto stage as she clapped slowly. “Now that . . .” She shook her head with a stunned chuckle, closing the distance between them and tucking a stray curl behind Eden’s ear. “That was breathtaking, Eden.”

Eden flushed with pride, a warmth spreading through her chest at Genevieve's praise.

"You’re magnificent," Genevieve breathed, pulling Eden closer to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. "I knew you had it in you, but that . . . that was something special."

Genevieve stood back slightly as her gaze locked onto Eden, a mixture of awe and hunger blazing in her eyes. The intensity of that look sent a shiver down Eden's spine, her breath catching in her throat. For a heartbeat, they stood frozen, the air between them charged with electricity.

Then Genevieve suddenly surged forward, closing the distance between them like it was causing her physical pain. Her hands cupped Eden's face, fingers tangling in her hair as she pulled her into a searing kiss. Eden gasped against Genevieve's lips, her knees going weak as Genevieve's tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a ferocity that left her dizzy.

When they finally broke apart, both panting slightly, the director’s expression had turned softer, vulnerable even. "God, Eden," she breathed, tracing the actress’s lower lip with her thumb. "You're incredible. I don’t worship you as much as you deserve."

Eden blinked, her mind struggling to process Genevieve's words through the haze of arousal. "What do you mean?" she asked.

A slow, almost predatory smile spread across Genevieve's face. "You always do so well for me. Fuck knows you kill me every time I see you on your knees," she purred, her hands sliding down Eden's ribs to grip her hips. "But it doesn’t always have to be that way between us. Let me treat you like a goddess for once."

Before Eden could fully comprehend what was happening, Genevieve was sinking to her knees in front of her. Eden's eyes went wide, darting around the empty theatre as panic mingled with excitement in her chest. "Genevieve, what are you?" Her words cut off in a sharp gasp as Genevieve's fingers disappeared beneath the hem of Eden’s skirt. She hooked them into the waistband of Eden’s panties, slowly dragging them down her legs.

"Shh," Genevieve soothed, looking up at Eden through her lashes. "Just relax. I want to taste you." She pressed a soft kiss to Eden's inner thigh, making her shiver. "I want you to ride my face."

Eden stopped breathing altogether, her heart pounding so hard she was sure Genevieve must be able to hear it. "Here?" she squeaked, glancing nervously at the rows of empty seats. "But what if someone?"

"No one's here,” Genevieve assured her gently lifting Eden’s feet one at a time until she’d pulled her underwear off completely and shoved them in her pocket. "It's just us. Don't you want to feel my tongue inside you?"

A low moan escaped Eden's throat at Genevieve's words. Of course, she wanted it. But the thought of doing this here, now, in the middle of the stage . . . it was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

Genevieve appeared to be experiencing no such hesitation as she scooted back, settling herself on the stage floor. "Come here," she coaxed, beckoning with her fingers. "Straddle my face. Let me reward you."

Eden's legs seemed to move of their own accord, carrying her forward until she was standing over Genevieve. With gentle hands, Genevieve guided her down, positioning Eden's knees on either side of her head. Eden found herself facing out toward the empty auditorium, the vastness of the space before her making her feel simultaneously exposed and powerful.

Adrenaline surged through Eden's veins, causing her entire body to tremble. The risk of their public location combined with the heady anticipation of what was to come had her hovering on the knife's edge of pleasure already. She could feel Genevieve's warm breath against her aching pussy, the sensation already making her squirm with need.

"God, I love how wet you get for me. Always so responsive," Genevieve murmured, her words vibrating against Eden's sensitive flesh. "So fucking sexy."

And then Genevieve's mouth was on her, her tongue laving a broad stroke up Eden’s vulva. Eden's head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from her throat at the exquisite sensation. Genevieve's hands gripped Eden's thighs, holding her steady as she began to explore in earnest.

Eden's hips began to move immediately, grinding down against Genevieve's eager mouth as she relished the unfamiliar power of this new position. She braced her hands on her thighs, her nails digging into her skin as waves of pleasure rolled through her body. Genevieve's tongue circled her clit before sliding back, fucking into her with quick, shallow thrusts that had Eden seeing stars.

"Oh god," Eden gasped, her eyes squeezed shut as she rode Genevieve's face with increasing urgency. "Oh fuck, Genevieve, yes!"

Genevieve hummed in approval, maybe even a little self-satisfaction. Her tongue returned to Eden's clit, sucking the sensitive bud between her lips as her fingers dug into the soft flesh of Eden's ass, urging her to move faster.

Eden could feel her orgasm building fast, a tight coil of heat low in her belly that threatened to snap at any moment. She forced her eyes open, her gaze sweeping across the empty seats before her. The knowledge that anyone could walk in and see them like this, see her writhing and moaning as Genevieve's tongue worked magic between her legs, sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.

As the pressure built to an almost unbearable level, Eden found herself overcome with the need to touch Genevieve, to make her feel even a fraction of the pleasure currently coursing through her own body. Without thinking, she bent forward, her hands fumbling with the button of Genevieve's trousers.

Genevieve made a questioning noise against her, but Eden was too far gone to explain. She managed to work the zipper down, plunging her hand into Genevieve's underwear. Her fingers found Genevieve's clit, slick and swollen, and began to press in tight circles.

The moan that vibrated against Eden's pussy told her that Genevieve was more than happy with this development. The director's hips bucked up into Eden's touch as she sealed her lips around Eden's clit, sucking hard as her tongue flicked rapidly over it.

Eden's world narrowed to a pinpoint of sensation - Genevieve's mouth on her, her own fingers working furiously between Genevieve's legs, the cool air of the theatre on her overheated skin. She teetered on the edge for what felt like an eternity, pleasure building and building until she thought she might shatter completely from the intensity of it. Hell, she might never recover.

And then, with a final swirl of Genevieve's tongue, Eden fell. Her orgasm barrelled into her like a freight train, her body convulsing violently as she cried out Genevieve's name. Her hips jerked erratically against Genevieve's face as wave after wave rolled through her.

Through the haze of her own release, Eden was dimly aware of Genevieve tensing beneath her, a muffled cry vibrating against her oversensitive flesh as Genevieve found her own climax. The knowledge that she had brought Genevieve to orgasm, even in the throes of her own pleasure, was an added bonus that left her drowning in the bliss of it all. The times they came together were always Eden’s favourites, that added connection fuelling the emotions that always threatened to overwhelm her when they were intimate.

As the last tremors of her orgasm faded, Eden soon became acutely aware of the ache in her knees and the trembling in her thighs. Carefully, she swung her leg over Genevieve's head, collapsing onto the stage beside her with a soft groan.

Genevieve sat up, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The sight of Eden's wetness glistening on Genevieve's chin was so erotic, she was momentarily tempted to push her director back down and climb on top of her for round two.

Instead, she closed her eyes for a beat and inhaled deeply, basking in the moment before it inevitably faded, and she had to pretend she wasn’t consumed by everything she felt for the woman beside her. They sat in silence, both coming down from the high of their shared pleasure. Eden's mind whirled, still awestruck by what just happened.

"I can't believe we just did that," Eden finally said, giving voice to her thoughts. She glanced around the empty theatre, half-expecting to see scandalized faces peering out from behind the curtains. "Right here on the stage. Anyone could have walked in and seen us!"

Genevieve chuckled, the sound low and rich. She turned to Eden, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sometimes you need to live a little, Eden," she said, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Eden's ear. Her touch lingered, fingers trailing down Eden's jaw in a gentle caress. "Take risks. Let yourself get caught up in the moment."

The way Genevieve was looking at her, with such open want and admiration, made Eden's heart stutter in her chest. For a brief, wild moment, she allowed herself to imagine that this was more than just sex, that the tenderness in Genevieve's gaze meant something deeper.

In that moment, with Genevieve staring at her like she'd hung the moon, Eden felt invincible. The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

"I love you," she whispered.

The instant the confession left her mouth, Eden felt the world grind to a halt. She watched, as if in slow motion, as Genevieve's expression shifted from bliss to shock, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open slightly.

For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them moved. Eden's heart pounded in her ears, her heart caught in her throat as she waited for Genevieve to say something, anything.

Finally, Genevieve's hands slipped from Eden's grasp. She scrambled back, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle while she rose to her feet and buttoned her trousers.

"Eden, I . . ." Genevieve began, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. "I don't . . . I mean, we agreed this wasn't . . ."

Eden felt her heart plummet to her feet instead, a cold wave of dread washing over her. She'd done it now. She'd ruined everything with three little words.

"I'm sorry," Eden rushed to say, desperate to salvage the peace from just minutes ago. "I didn't mean to . . . I just got caught up in the moment. You don't have to?"

But Genevieve was already shaking her head, backing away further. "No, I . . . I can't do this. I'm sorry, Eden. I thought we understood each other."

Eden watched helplessly as Genevieve turned away, her movements jerky and rushed as she gathered her things from the front row. "I should go," Genevieve muttered, not meeting Eden's eyes. "It's late. We'll . . . we'll talk about this another day."

Before Eden could formulate a response, Genevieve was hurrying down the aisle toward the exit. The heavy theatre door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing in the empty space like a gunshot.

Eden sat frozen on the stage, knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the spot where Genevieve had disappeared. The silence pressed in around her, suffocating and absolute. She couldn't quite believe what had just happened. One moment, she'd been flying high, and the next . . .

Slowly, the reality of it all began to sink in. She'd confessed the love she’d been desperately trying to bury for weeks, and Genevieve had run. Literally run away from her. As if Eden's feelings were some kind of contagious disease she might catch if she stayed too close.

A choked sob escaped Eden's throat, shattering the stillness. She dropped her head to her knees, her body trembling beneath the crushing weight of everything she’d just destroyed. How could she have been so stupid? She'd known from the beginning that this was just a casual thing for Genevieve, that she’d never want her for anything more than a quick fuck. And yet, Eden had gone and fallen in love anyway.

What would happen now? Would Genevieve fire her from the play? Would she ever be able to look Eden in the eye again? The thought of facing her in rehearsal tomorrow, of trying to pretend this never happened, made Eden's chest tighten until she could barely draw breath.

As the minutes ticked by, Eden remained on the empty stage, her mind racing like a sickening rollercoaster. She imagined herself begging Genevieve for forgiveness, promising to keep things strictly professional from now on. She pictured Genevieve coldly informing her that she was being replaced, that she wasn't mature enough to handle the role after all.

When the ache in her hunched spine got too fierce to ignore, Eden forced herself to her feet. With heavy steps, she made her way off the stage and down the aisle. She paused at the exit, her hand on the door handle. For a moment, she allowed herself one last fantasy – Genevieve bursting back through the doors, declaring that she loved Eden too, that everything would be different now.

But the doors remained stubbornly closed, the theatre empty around her. Eden took a deep, shuddering breath, squaring her shoulders.

With one final glance back at the stage where her world had shattered, Eden pushed open the door and let it close on the last moments she expected she’d ever spend in Genevieve’s arms.