Juliet Takes Stage — K.D. West

A searing tale of desire and loss, love and redemption

Extract

I am kneeling between Ken's thighs. Though he is still clothed, I am naked. It seems appropriate; he has made me feel naked since the day I walked into his Beginning Acting class five years and a lifetime ago.

“Allison,” he murmurs, his fingers running through my hair.

“Yes, Ken,” I say, unable to disguise the tremor that his voice, his caress raise in me. My eyes remain locked on the raised front of the button-fly jeans just inches before me.

“Tell me what you want, Allison.” His strong, warm voice is low, and I tremble all the more, knowing what he wants me to say.

“I want to heal you, Ken,” I whisper, my voice high, thin, and warbling.

I can hear the smile, even as the lump in his jeans seems to grow, to rise. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “you do that every day that I'm blessed enough to see you.”

My heart fills my throat, leaves me breathless.

“But that's not what you want right now, is it, Allison.” Not a question, not really: he knows me, knows me better than I do myself in so many ways, and I am raw clay before him, the girl he made and remakes, just by looking at me. By desiring me. By speaking to me in that low, throaty voice so full of love, desire, and control.

“N-no, Ken.”

No. Not right now. Healing him, yes, I want that, but now? This long, long, lonely, lonely first year in college, I've been halfway across the country and we've barely seen each other, and all I've had to keep me warm has been his emails and his letters -- letters full of stories of his adventures with other women, from Dana, his teacher, to Cindy, who broke his heart, to Rachel, the Big Easy, to Veronica, his first Juliet, to all of the rest -- and they've left me wanting, left me needing so many things. Wanting them right now.

I stare up into his eyes.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”