Rain (Hudson 1)

"He's the one who gave you the roses." "Yes."

"I've got roses for you too," Corbette said. We got into his convertible.

"What a night!" he screamed back at the building and shifted quickly to speed us away before too many people had noticed.

There was a cast party at a local pizza parlor. Mr. Bufurd was paying for it himself.

"Shouldn't we at least make an appearance?" I asked Corbette as he drove.

"Later," he said. "Stars are always supposed to arrive fashionably late."

His laughter trailed behind us in the wind that lifted my hair and washed away all caution and care.

I didn't believe him, but I was in their world of lies. What difference did one more make?

Corbette wasn't lying about the flowers, however. When we entered his hideaway, I saw roses everywhere: a half dozen on a table here, another on the desk, another on the television set and even a vase filled at the center of the floor.

"You must have spent a small fortune," I said laughing.

"How often do we have a hit play? Guess what else I have for us," he said going to his little refrigerator. I shook my head. He opened it and produced a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. "You know what this is, right?"

"I do, but I never really drank any," I said.

"Tonight's a night for firsts. It's a premiere!"

He opened the bottle and the champagne ran out the opening and streamed foam down the neck. He poured me a glass and one for himself.

"To the most talented, most beautiful, and most charming new girl at Dogwood," he toasted. We clicked glasses and sipped. "Like it?"

"Yes."

He poured me some more and we performed another toast, this one to Mr. Bufurd for casting me. Then he put on some music, loosened the tie he had been wearing, and sat on the sofa. He patted the spot beside him.

"Let's take a few minutes to relax. I feel like I've been running for miles," he said.

"Me too. I just can't believe I did it." The excitement inside me bubbled as much as the champagne Corbette continued to pour in my glass.

"I knew from the first day that you would be something special."

"Sure," I said skeptically. "I saw how you were laughing at me that first day."

"I was laughing at the other girls who were hoping you would fail and fail quickly."

"You really think that's what they wanted?"

"Don't tell me about Dogwood girls. I know Dogwood girls. They have rich chocolate running through their veins instead of blood."

He made me laugh. I sipped the wonderful champagne and we joked about some of the others in the cast, especially Maureen.

"I'm still wearing my make-up!" I realized.

"So am I. Hey," he said, "that means we're still Emily and George." He put down his glass and took mine from my hand to place beside his before turning back to me. "That means we're married."

I laughed. I was laughing at everything he said and my head that had been taking my thoughts on a merry-go-round began to spin even more. I didn't even realize he was kissing my neck and my face. His fingers undid my blouse so quickly, I was surprised to look down and discover it was completely undone and his hands were in and around my ribs, moving up to my bra. It seemed to fly away from my breasts and when he pressed his lips to mine, I didn't resist as he slipped my blouse over my shoulders and down my arms. In seconds I was naked from the waist up and his mouth was on my neck, my breasts, his lips and tongue over my nipples.

When my head fell back, I felt as if I was falling, falling, falling and I clung to him to keep from hitting the floor. Vaguely, I remember moaning some small protest, but his hands were over my thighs and his lips were on mine again. He tasted so good and this was so wonderful a night and I had secretly committed myself to a special night, a night full of pleasure and ecstasy, defiance and abandon.

When I felt his hardness moving between my legs, I tightened for a moment and then, as if casting my soul off like a ship into an undulating sea, I relaxed and accepted him. I rose and fell with his thrusts and barely heard his moans of pleasure over my own. He mumbled mad promises, vowed love and said all the things people say in movies and books when they surrender themselves fully and ultimately to each other. I was on stage again. He kept calling me Emily, interspersing his own words with words from the play. I half expected to hear an audience applauding when we were both spent and exhausted, clinging to each other for a long moment.