Behind the Silk Curtain

The club was thriving tonight and I could barely keep up with the people that filled the bar. The lined triple backed and in some sections, near where I worked, four or five lines of people lined up for just a single drink.

I could barely keep up with the amount of people that wanted a drink that I could barely take one second for a drink for myself. I was eventually forced to take a break by one of the newer bartenders, who took on my section as well as theirs.

I leaned against the back counter, taking in a deep breath before I poured myself a glass of water. When the Bartender turned to put through the order of one of the customers, he said, "You might need something stronger then that."

I snorted and drained the glass of water and exchanged it for a gin and tonic. The Bartender gave the customer their change and said to me, "Stronger."

I gave him a finger and shoed him away from my section. I took sips of m drink in between each of the orders that I took from the customers. I was surprised that when the crowd died down and the night wore on that I saw saw Craw. I double backed and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"I came to talk to you," he said.

"Why? This is the last place that I would expect you to be."

"Expect the unexpected."

"I always do but this is something that I didn't really…"

"Expect?" he laughed and motioned to the drink that I was sipping on. "I'll have what you're having."

"Umm…" I hesitated and began to make his drink.

From the small line of people that now filled the bar, I saw Thomas approaching out of the corner of my eye. I winked at him as I made Craw his drink and slid it over the bar to him. As I was about to draw my hand back, Craw reached out and brushed his fingers over mine.

I stared at him, his puffy hands roughly pulling at my fingers in attempts to get me across the bar. A small smile creeped into the corner of his lips, yellow teeth poking out underneath. For a well known actor that spent his time on West End, my respect was lowering by the millisecond.

I paled under the little light of the club, pulling my fingers away but Craw reached in and gripped my wrist, pulling me against the bar. I cringed in pain as I hit my hipbone against the corner of the counter. Craw leaned in, his fingers digging into my arm.

"Who are you?" he said, the music fading into the background and his voice becoming the only thing that I heard.

"Someone your too young to make a move on," I spat, trying to pull my arm away but was still prevented from doing so. "Now, I don't know who you are but you need to get off me."

The Bartender walked to my side and touched my arm in support before he pulled Craw from me, saying, "You need to leave her alone."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Craw scowled as he loosened his grip on my arm. I pulled my arm from his and worked at my arm, trying to get rid of the red mark that he had left.

"At this moment, I think I need to," the Bartender said, taking the drink from the bar and pouring it out in the nearby sink. "Go. Leave."

"No," he scowled and when he goes to say another word, he is stopped by Thomas who rests his hand upon Craw's shoulder.

"Hey Craw, didn't expect to see you here," Thomas exclaimed and pulling Craw from the bar. He whispers harshly when he pulls Craw from the bar ."What are you doing?"

"None of your business," Craw argued as Thomas pushed him from the bar and called one of the Security Guards that hovered about the club, monitoring those within. He catches one of the Security Guards attention and points to Craw.

Craw shoves Thomas off and says, "I don't expect you to do well at the audition. Just a friendly warning."

Craw willingly leaves with the Security Guard, who escorts him from the club. Thomas, the Bartender, and I watched him leave before we were forced to get back to our jobs. I glanced back at the clock on the wall to find that I was nearly at the end of my shift and I was eternally grateful for the fact that Thomas was there for me when I finished.

I poured myself another drink, something stronger, and drained it on one go. Thomas didn't judge me for it. I could tell by the glint in his eye that he probably would have done the same thing.

I served the last of the customers that I could before m shift ended and I was replaced by another. I lay a thanking hand on the Bartender beside me and hurried away, and into Thomas' arms. Safe from the clutches of Craw.

He drew me to the corners of the club, against one of the walls, where he held me tight. I managed to utter, "Craw tried to make a move on me."

Thomas laughed until he saw that I was completely and utterly serious. "Right. Sorry."

"Again."

"Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Never."

"I hate you."

"Which only means you love me."

"Oh, whatever, Thomas."

He smiled into my hair and kissed me on the cheek. He then pulled me into the crowd, where he said, "I believe you still owe me that dance."

"That I do," I replied with a smile, forgetting all of the memories of what occurred earlier.

Although that club wasn't as crowded as it was earlier, there was still a few amount of people there that managed to keep Thomas and I together. Not like we wanted to be apart, anyway. Our movements showed that we longed to be touching, never apart.

I threaded my fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him against me. He returned in kind, his nose pressing into mine and his lips, his lips, brushed against my chin and up and over my lips. I could feel every movement of his, against me.

The people pushed us tighter and closer, if it was even possible. I wanted to kiss him, but knew not to yet. I had yet to grow the desire, feel it growing in the pit of my stomach. I willed it to be there, to have his kiss.

I felt him pushing at my shirt, my jacket, searching for the softness of my skin against the roughness of his fingers. His nails gripped into me, a different feeling to that of Craw's at the bar. I longed for his and despised Craw's.

The music that faded earlier returned, taking over. It's all that I could hear.

Thomas' lips found my earlobe, kissing and pulling down. I moaned into his neck, teeth bared against his skin. I tugged at his hair, my fingers getting caught in his curls. I shifted my body against his, under his jacket and into his skin. I heard his breath become caught in his throat as I pulled my hands from his hair and into his shoulders at the curve of his neck.

I am whipped outside before I can even realise what has happened. I have my legs around his waist and being carried down the street. I feel his soft laugh against my neck, his breathing heavy.

"Anywhere, Thomas," I spoke into his hair, gripping onto him and smelling every pore of his beauty. "Anywhere."

"What desire you crave," he said, throwing us into an alleyway and pinning me against the wall. I took his face in my hands, tucking his curls behind his ears. "Craving's are unhealthy, and dangerous."

"Not with you," I muttered breathlessly. "But yet, you are the most dangerous thing I have loved."

"Loved? Have we progressed so quick?" he turned, letting me upon my own feet and his hands taking my waist. "I have not liked, nor loved, a woman like you. I was ever waiting for a personality, for lips that spoke the words you do."

"For the love for my love, I grant thee behind this grand silk curtain," I uttered as he drew close, the angle of his features darkening his eyes and burning all emotion that lay within me. "For you are a beauty against my own desire, my own will."

"Are you mine forever, a beauty of my own?" he whispered, narrowing the space between his lips and mine. "Or are you forever on your own?"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" I laughed, breaking all romantic tension. "Because I thought we already covered that."

Thomas laughed, his whole body shaking against me. "You were always the one for being so unromantic." I smiled at him. "Will you?"

"No," I said mockingly, slipping out from under his grip and for the end of the street. I turned back to him when he did not follow. "You coming, partner?"

"Of course, darling," he beamed as he joined me at the end of the street where we joined arms.

_____________________________________________________________________________

"You remember our audition's tomorrow?" I was leaning against Thomas' shoulder as we took the train back to his…our apartment.

He stiffened underneath me and turned his body slightly so that he could see me properly. "Shit, really?"

I sat up straight and looked to him, saying, "Sorry?"

"No it's not me I'm worried about," he started. "It's you."

"Why do you have to be worried about me?" I asked, offended. "I know my lines."

"Really?" Thomas said, surprised. "Prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything to you," I returned.

"Not to me but to Craw you do," he remarked. "You especially do now after what happened."

"Nothing happened…" he gave me a look. "Okay, something happened but I don't exactly want to remember it, remember?"

"I remember," he leaned in to me. "Remember?"

I hit him playfully. "Shut up."

"Make me," he said, running his tongue along my lips and kissing my nose.

I closed my eyes in attempts to block out his seduction and prove that I had actually been learning my lines. He was making it difficult. Bringing me close and digging his fingers into any bit of flesh that he could find.

"Am I distracting you?" he asked, kissing my neck.

"You're making it very difficult, yes," I returned, shoving him away from me and against the window of the carriage that we sat on. I eyed him as he gazed upon me with wide eyes of surprise. "What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night/So stumblest on my counsel?"

"By a name/I know not how to tell thee who I am:/My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself/Because it is an enemy to thee;/Had I it written, I would tear the word," he said wistfully, easily reciting the lines he had learned long ago. He was a Shakespearian actor, knowing the majority of his works.

I closed my eyes, thinking of what comes next. I could tell that Thomas wanted to speak out, helping me with my next line but I refused to let him do so. The words slowly came to me as I stumbled over the next few words. "My ears have not yet drunk a few…"

"A hundred words," Thomas corrected me.

"Whatever," I shot back. "Of that tongues utterance, yet I know the sound." I rested m fingers upon his lips, eyes still closed. "Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?"

Thomas laughs as he speaks his next words against my fingers, "Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike."

"I am no saint," I opened my eyes and kissed him upon his forehead. "But I have remembered my lines."

"Lines you have not remembered and therefore, I will not let you sleep until you have learned them."

"You are not my mother," I hissed.

"That's because you have never had one," Thomas state but instantly regretted his words. I cast my eyes down, feeling a sadness bringing me down. "Hey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Sure you didn't," I groaned, standing from my seat for the door as the train slowed at our stop. The doors opened and Thomas remained in his seat, watching me with a sad expression. "You coming?"

He nodded and hurried after me. I knew ti was going to be a long night and I couldn't do it without him. I took his hand and walked to the platform with him. We made it around the corner before I needed him against my skin to keep me warm. I huddled against him as we walked, pressing my fingers against him to feel more of him.

His hair bobbed against his forehead, almost covering his eyes. He needed a haircut but I couldn't bare to tell him so. I liked him the way he was. We'll as much as I could, without getting frustrated at his words or mockery of me (which I knew could only be playful).

His lips were slightly puckered, soft. I wanted to touch them so but knew I had work to do before anything more could happen between us. He, especially, wouldn't allow it. I were alone until I learned the scene, properly. Our romance, now, would only help us and I knew he's likeness was strong for me, as mine was for him.

We took the stairs for his apartment, the lift out of order for the night…early morning. He opened the door for us and sat me down on the couch. He grabbed a copy of the script and a blanket and gave them to me.

"Learn your lines and I'll see you in the morning," he said, kissing me cheek. I turned my head slightly to catch his lips but he had moved away before I could touch his lips.

"Good night," I called to him and was greeted with the slamming of the bedroom door. I sighed and got to work.

The night faded to morning as I found myself lying on the bed and we were no way near ready. We were too busy dealing with Thomas' roommate and my issues with my landlord, and just being too wrapped up in each other to even notice anything else that was going on in our lives.

In short, he was ready, and I was by far, not.

And not to mention the fact that Christmas was approaching and I would be spending time with his family. Family. A word I was never used to, especially after my father disowned me and my mother disappeared. Passed away. Doesn't matter. She was gone now and I had to deal with the consequences of her not being here.

I had been living a cruel world since I had made that decision for Shakespeare over Churchill. It was all about the passion, the love of what you studied, of what you did with your life. I believe that my father had lost that long ago in his books while he studied law at university. He might have briefly found it again when he met my mother but it never lasted long.

It left me with a broken heart where its shards still cut me ruthless inside and continued to make me bleed until it was content -- which as never, and no time in the future as far as I could see.

I was lying on the couch with the script up above me. My arm was draped over my forehead as I muttered my lines underneath my breath. The language was difficult, as it always was, but Thomas' never seemed to have trouble with it. He was a natural born Shakespearian actor; probably born in the wrong time. He has such an incredible stage presence, I don't know why he has any aspirations for film or television. Each to their own.

He offered to help me but I flat out refused it. If I was going to learn how to do this, I was going to do it by myself and since I had refused his willing help, he sat in the kitchen with a bowl of food in his slender fingers, eating.

"You're so annoying," I said to Thomas when my eyes and my brain just couldn't take anymore. The script flopped onto my face, covering it.

"You're so annoying," Thomas imitated and a good imitation at that. "If you'd just let me help you, it would make it so much easier for you as well as me."

"I don't need your help."

"Everyone needs a little help sometime," he said as he finished off his bowl of food and set it into the sink.