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Act 1: The Spark (RADA Rehearsal Room)

Two young actors at the very beginning of their careers with nothing but hopes and dreams of what they, one day, might become.

The rehearsal room smelled of dust, old wood, and youthful sweat. Yootha stood centre stage in a simple white blouse and dark skirt, her dark hair pinned loosely, a few rebellious strands framing her sharp, expressive face. At nineteen, she already possessed a magnetic presence that made people watch her even when she wasn’t speaking.

Roger, equally nineteen but already looking like a leading man, circled her slowly as Wickham. When the stage direction called for him to pull Lydia close, his large hand splayed across her lower back and tugged her against his body.

This time, he didn’t stop at the scripted closeness.

Yootha felt the unmistakable ridge of his growing erection press against her belly. Her breath caught. Her nipples pebbled instantly against the thin fabric. Their eyes locked, his blue and intense, hers dark and challenging.

“More fire!” the director shouted.

Roger’s hand slid lower, boldly cupping her ass for a split second as he delivered his line. Yootha’s pussy clenched with sudden, shocking need.

After notes, they lingered. The moment the last student left, Roger backed her against the prop table.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, voice rough.

“Then stop trying,” Yootha whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers.

Their first kiss was hungry, tongues sliding, teeth nipping. Roger’s hands roamed greedily, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples until she moaned into his mouth. He lifted her onto the table, shoved her skirt up, and dropped to his knees.

He peeled her damp knickers aside and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue was relentless, long, flat strokes over her clit, then spearing inside her. Yootha gripped his hair, grinding against his mouth as he sucked her swollen bud.

She came, thighs shaking around his head, biting her lip to stay quiet.

Roger stood, freed his thick, veined cock, and rubbed the fat head along her slick folds.

“Tell me you want it,” he growled.

“I want your cock inside me, now!”

He thrust in deep. Yootha’s head fell back as he stretched her perfectly. He fucked her right there on the prop table, hard, fast, possessive, until he pulled out and painted her outer folds with thick ropes of cum.

Yootha’s hand dropped down to her pussy, scooping up the thick white goop with her fingers and brought them to her mouth licking them clean.

They cleaned up quickly, grinning like thieves.

“Promise me you wont tell anybody about what we’ve just done will you!”

Now Roger, more than anyone, knew he was no saint, but his word was his bond and he promised her. Yootha rejoiced in her new lovers assurance.

Act 2: The First Full Night

Roger’s tiny rented room had one narrow bed, a single lamp, and a window

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