Breaking Character

by Lee Winter

  Jean-Claude glared up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Why was he not aware of their experience? They didn’t tell him? He didn’t understand what he was putting them through? It was a lesson. An important one for all of us. I decided always, always, if I could, I will cast lovers. Then, even if my intimate scenes are hard to shoot, they will still not be a hardship for the stars. My lovers will want to touch each other. They will not feel vulnerable or exploited. Their love will be obvious. Authentic. But you two? I cannot see it.”

  He scowled at them. “I hear that sometimes real couples have no chemistry on screen, but it happens when couples are too familiar, have been together for a long time. But you two, you are just now together, only, what? A few months? So it is not that.”

  Elizabeth held her breath.

  Jean-Claude tapped his lip, eying Summer. “My dear, you look afraid to touch your own girlfriend. Your eyes seek approval for everything that you do, as though you fear her harsh rebuke. How can that be? She won’t break.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “Will you?”

  “No,” Elizabeth murmured.

  “No. Well.” He blew out a breath. “I do not understand this at all.” He gave them a close, hard look, “but I suspect you do.” He waved a finger between them. “We are taking a break. Go back to your trailer. Take…” he looked at his watch, “thirty minutes. Do what you must to figure this out, I do not care. Then come back. Ready. Prepared. And then we do the scene and it will be perfect. Okay? Go. Now. Fix this.”

  Chapter 16

  “Shit,” Summer said, closing the door behind her on Elizabeth’s side of the trailer. She paced, hands balling and unballing. “Oh my God. That was…Oh. My. God.”

  “He’s right.” Elizabeth said gently, only too aware that if she ratcheted up the tension any more, Summer might have a full meltdown. As it was, she already seemed about as brittle as old bones.

  “I know he’s right! You think I don’t know that? Christ. That was a nightmare.” Summer ran her fingers through her hair.

  Elizabeth decided it was probably not a good idea to point out that she’d get hell from the hair stylist for that. Instead she reached into her fridge and pulled out a gin bottle. “Want some?”

  “No.”

  “Might help your tension.”

  “I said no.” Summer’s jaw hardened and she began pacing up and down the trailer. It was dizzying watching her.

  “Fine. I will.” Elizabeth reached for a glass and poured herself a double, returning the bottle to the fridge. “Jean-Claude thinks we know what’s going on.” She took a sip. “So…do you?”

  Summer paused her stalking. “I’m not screwing up on purpose.”

  “I know.”

  “This isn’t like on Choosing Hope where I’m being subversive to get around a toxic plot. This is a good plot. I want to do well. I do!” Summer folded her arms. “I want this over as soon as possible. Because despite how it looks, I’m really trying.”

  Was she? Obviously these weren’t regular nerves. Summer’s acting was as wooden as a tree stump, each scene worse than the last. After two dozen takes, some sort of unconscious self-sabotage had to be going on. Elizabeth placed her glass on the table, adjusting it perfectly center. Right. Time to stop dancing all around this and get to the root of things.

  “Summer,” she began, trying to phrase it delicately, “you look like you’re in physical pain when you touch me. You’re so tense, I don’t even recognize you. When I kiss you, you flinch or turn away. And you touch me like I’ll shatter.”

  The stalking resumed.

  “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?” Elizabeth tried again. “In your head, I mean. We can figure out a way past this.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “You told me you could do this. You made me believe it.” Elizabeth met her eye. “What’s changed?”

  Summer paused mid-stride. “This is…harder than I thought.”

  “What is? Which part?”

  Summer stared up at the ceiling and didn’t answer.

  “For me, the nudity is difficult,” Elizabeth admitted, hoping that by giving a little, she might get something back. “I’m not comfortable at all with it, no matter how perfectly the sheets are draped. I really don’t want another two days of rolling around in next to nothing in front of strangers. It flies in the face of my acute sense of modesty.” She smiled. Perhaps humor would defuse the growing tension? “So if that’s what’s bothering you, I can relate.”

  “Sorry you’re feeling uncomfortable. But my issue isn’t with nudity,” Summer said flatly. “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have gone skinny dipping at the Quand Pleurent Les Clowns wrap party.”

  “Okay.” Good point. “Is it that you’ve never done a sex scene before?” Elizabeth really hoped it wasn’t that. Summer was playing Lust, for God’s sake. Failure to get her head around the role itself would mean she’d have to leave. Elizabeth gripped her glass and tried not to think about how bad that would be. Would Jean-Claude re-cast both of them? Find a new couple?

  “No, not that.” Summer lifted her chin. “Sex scenes in general are just acting, aren’t they?”

  In general? So there was something specific about this one then? Inhaling, Elizabeth plunged on, hoping third time was the charm. “Perhaps it’s the nature of the sex scene? Two women?”

  “No.” Summer’s glare intensified. “And before you ask, no, I also don’t think people will think I’m gay for doing this.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not the nineties anymore. Audiences are smarter now.”

  Scratch her next question then. Elizabeth opened her mouth, when Summer stopped in front of her.

  “Stop it,” Summer said. “I have a lot to process and you’re not making it easier with the third degree.”

  “I was trying to help.”

  “I get that it’s hard for you. I’m sorry. And maybe you’re worried Jean-Claude will replace us. I have that fear, too. But you can’t just talk this away. God, if you only knew why—” Summer abruptly stopped speaking, then sank down in a chair opposite Elizabeth with a defeated expression. She buried her head in her hands.

  “So you do know why.” It was a start. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

  Summer gave her a miserable glance. “You can’t.”

  “You don’t know that.” Elizabeth gentled her voice. “Please tell me.”

  “You feel uncomfortable now over showing some skin? That’s nothing. I’d ruin everything if I told you.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t sure how Summer could ruin things more, given production had just been shut down over this, but she held her tongue.

  Glancing around, Summer let her gaze fall to the empty glass. She walked to the fridge, extracted the gin bottle, and held it up, eying the level on it. Only a shot or two left. “Do you have any more?”

  “Yes.” Surely she wasn’t planning on needing another whole bottle?

  “Good. Just had to check.” Summer emptied the gin into her glass, then picked it up and eyed Elizabeth over the lip. “Why do you keep your gin in the fridge? My parents don’t.”

  “A master gin distiller told me once that it softens the taste of alcohol, making it easier to drink. Smoother.”

  “Okay.” Summer gave the small glass a swirl then drank the liquid in two swallows. Her eyes watered. “Ugh. I hate gin.”

  Startled, Elizabeth said, “What’s going on, Summer?”

  Instead of answering, she clunked the now empty glass on the table and returned to her seat, slouching down. For a moment, she looked just like the awkward young woman Elizabeth had first met in the rain. Hapless, miserable, and unaccountably endearing.

  Summer nudged her glass with a finger. “So…I have had to kiss people in front of cameras before. Hollywood decides no child over age eleven can possibly be without a love interest. My first ever kiss was on screen. How messed up
is that? It was…not fun.”

  Elizabeth inhaled. Oh. That was truly sad.

  “But it was just a job. I mean, that’s how I convinced myself not to get freaked out. What made it worse was that Tom…my co-star…had a huge crush on me and everyone knew it. That was a world of awkward, right on top of the awkward of being twelve and having my first kiss in front of forty adults. What I’m saying is, having a sex scene as an adult, in front of only a handful of people who are respectful, is nothing compared to that earlier experience. Jean-Claude’s been exceptional at protecting our dignity.”

  “He has.”

  “So you have to understand, it’s not about the scene itself.” Summer’s eyes were still fixed on the gin label. “I promise it’s not that. I can do that.”

  “Then, is it…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Me?”

  Summer’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “You are finding it difficult to pretend you’re interested in me,” Elizabeth clarified. “You don’t want to touch me, and you recoil when I touch you. I mean, I have to wonder. Attraction is innate, not something anyone can control, and it might be why it’s so hard for you to hide how unappealing you find this. Well, me.”

  “Hell, this is so hard.”

  Firming her jaw, Elizabeth told herself it shouldn’t hurt. Summer was simply a straight woman unable to fake her sexual interest in a woman. It wasn’t personal. “I see.” Except it felt pretty damned personal. Elizabeth frowned, and a surge of irritation flooded her that Summer’s distaste for touching her was apparently so deep she had to fight to overcome it. “Well, all the more reason for us to get this out of the way as fast as possible, so you don’t have to go through the agony of having to look like you want me.”

  Summer’s head snapped around at the sarcasm in her tone.

  “What?” Her look was incredulous. “You think…that I don’t want to… You idiot. That’s not it. I’ve been protecting you.”

  “From what?” Elizabeth peered at her in confusion.

  “Me! Don’t you see? I’m attracted to you. So damned much. I’m in hell having to kiss a woman I regard as a friend, who I don’t want to feel taken advantage of. It’s killing me that I’m torn in half between wanting to touch you and not wanting to take liberties. I’m terrified that if I let myself off the leash, and do the scene the way it’s written, it’ll be obvious from another planet how much I want you.”

  Attracted. To. You. Suddenly a great many light bulbs went off.

  “Now you see why?” Summer’s groan was pained. “I thought if you knew I liked you that way, it’d freak you out when I touched you. I remember how I felt with Tom. It was uncomfortable…a violation almost…because I couldn’t say no. And our scene today is so much worse than that, because it’s not just a kiss, is it?”

  Summer’s face fell, and tears glistened in her eyes. She rubbed them away. “I didn’t want you to think I was getting some cheap thrill out of this. But if I didn’t tell you and went for it anyway, well, it’s not like you could give consent. So that felt wrong too. It’s been messing with my head so badly.”

  “You’re gay?” The question slipped out, though Elizabeth had no right to ask. She hated how incredulous her tone was, and the wary look she received in return.

  Fear darted into Summer’s eyes. “Yes.”

  Well. Elizabeth was an imbecile for not seeing the rather enormous clues dropped by Summer’s family members.

  “I understand if you’re opposed to me being Lucille now.” Summer picked at her sleeve. “It’s one thing to have a professional co-star pretend they’re into you. It’s a whole other level of uncomfortable when you know they really are. I still have Tom’s excited face as he kissed me burned into my head. It’s not right.”

  Summer had certainly hidden her interest well. The poor woman had been tormenting herself over a simple attraction. Although, really, there never was anything “simple” about desire when it seemed unrequited. How well Elizabeth understood that curse. God, how would she have coped doing a sex scene with Grace? Especially when she was in her twenties and intoxicated by her? Empathy almost choked her. It was a struggle to keep her voice neutral when she finally replied, “Now I see.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” Summer seemed astounded.

  Offering a reassuring smile, Elizabeth said, “How about if I promise I won’t feel taken advantage of? I give you permission to play Lucille as written. All-in. In fact, I insist.”

  “Won’t you feel weird?” Her eyes clouded with worry.

  “No. I know you’re honorable, Summer, or this wouldn’t have been so hard for you.”

  Summer still looked stricken. “I just don’t want you feeling how I did with Tom. I’d rather quit first.”

  “I know. And I don’t. But a little advice?” Elizabeth picked up her glass again and whirled it. “In the best acting there lies a grain of truth. If liking me is yours, then use it. The more you push your attraction away, fight it, the worse your acting gets.” Over her glass, Elizabeth eyed Summer, whose cheeks wore a faint blush. “I see now that you’ve been trying to save my honor all this time. It’s sweet, really it is, but I don’t need you to. All it’s doing is prolonging things and not doing you any favors. Instead, use it. Kiss me like you mean it, fling me on that bed, whatever it takes. Let’s get this finished.” She smiled. “All right?”

  Wonder edged Summer’s eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. I promise whatever you do, I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl. I trust you. And no judgment later either. Just go for it.”

  “Okay.” Summer stared at her, then a resolve seemed to settle through her. “Okay.” She smiled, bright and relieved. “Thanks.”

  Summer’s heart thundered as they repositioned themselves on the bed. Elizabeth arched her back and settled her arms above her head, just beyond the pillow, waiting for Summer to take position. Her breasts were bare like Summer’s, and Elizabeth met her eyes with a direct, confident gaze.

  This time, Summer allowed herself to look, really look, to take in Elizabeth’s skin—smooth, beautiful, pale—and the faint bumps of her rib cage. Her breasts were beautiful—soft and ample. Summer had been trying so hard not to see any of this before, to be a professional, to give Elizabeth her space. Most especially, she’d been trying to prove that she wasn’t interested.

  She was, though. And so was Lucille. Time to start acting like it.

  Elizabeth’s eyes met hers, daring Summer to take her in, daring her to own this moment.

  Challenge accepted.

  Their eyes stayed locked, the background murmurs receding around them. Summer gathered Elizabeth’s wrists in her hand, waiting. Gone was the iron-grip. Now she cradled the flesh and bone, savoring the feel of it. To her surprise, Elizabeth’s pulse was pounding under her fingers.

  “Action.”

  Summer lunged, her kisses hot, fevered, and desperate, anxious to find all the ways that made Elspeth…or Elizabeth…moan. Her fingers traced the curve of Elizabeth’s cheek, under her chin, tilting her face up for another kiss that she lavished with lips and tongue. Because, fuck it, Lucille would use her damned tongue. And Summer was done pretending otherwise.

  Her fingernails raked Elizabeth’s ribs and her lips followed their path. Summer took a pebbling nipple in her mouth, and the clench of desire she’d been repressing for twenty takes flared sharp inside her.

  Summer pushed aside any doubts. Screw it. Lucille would feel desire.

  Sensing the camera head pivot, searching for her expression, she gave Elizabeth a burning look. Summer held the pose for a moment, devouring the sight of her on-screen lover before returning to that wet nipple, teasing it with her tongue.

  Elizabeth gasped and arched hard against her, eyes darkening.

  The music shifted and that was their cue: the moment Summer hadn’t nailed even once. She held her breath as Eli
zabeth reached for her and kissed her hard, taking control.

  Falling into the kiss, having permission to do so, was everything. The kiss itself was sublime, there was no denying it. There was no hesitation this time. Nothing but a sensation of sinking into something powerful.

  Summer brushed the sides of Elizabeth’s breasts with the pads of her fingers. So smooth, so soft. A moan wrenched from her throat.

  The music changed again. Elizabeth’s eyes were half lidded and interested. That look. Oh God.

  Summer slid her hand down, and when Elizabeth spread her legs, Summer began to clench and unclench her fingers against the soft skin of the nearest inner thigh. To the camera at the side, focusing on the subtle muscles shifting in Summer’s forearm, it would look like thrusting.

  Elizabeth’s breathing became harsher.

  Summer eased herself further down those beautiful legs, then dropped a kiss on Elizabeth’s nude thong. She almost gasped as the scent of arousal reached her.

  Continuing to kiss Elizabeth’s body, she tried to order her thoughts. Well, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, was it? There’d been all sorts of rubbing and friction. Anyone would get a little turned on, right? Summer was certainly in no condition to judge—the moisture between her own legs was copious, bordering on embarrassing.

  Refocusing, Summer redoubled her efforts, trying not to notice the darkening patch growing on the cotton between Elizabeth’s legs as she waited for Elizabeth to play out her climax.

  Why does this have to feel so real?

  Elizabeth arched against her, legs tangling with the sheets as her fingers clenched and unclenched against Summer’s back. Her moans were throaty and low. So damned convincing.

  Just as the music changed, she finished and turned to Summer with a predatory look.