crack beneath announced that Basia's futon base had possibly been the first fatality of the jungle attack. Samantha slid her hips along Guy's thighs until she was sitting on his stomach and bent over to push her nipples in his face. His eyes bulged with mingled terror and excitement.
"Before I kill you, there's something I have to ask you," she growled.
Guy groaned in disappointment. "But I've just got myself all psyched up for a hideous and painful death."
"I have to talk to you about Christabel." Having discussed the significance of the part, it would be easy to move on to moving to the country.
Guy, however, had other significant parts in mind. "Oh, Christ . Not her again. Do we have to?" As he wriggled in frustration beneath her, she clenched her thigh muscles tighter. "OK," Guy groaned, half anguished, half ecstatic. "Talk to me about her. Who is she?"
"A temptress. A schemer. A marriage wrecker."
"Bloody hell." Guy looked impressed. "Well, she'll certainly make a change from all those healthcare program breast-checking videos."
Samantha looked stony. For reasons utterly unconnected with the ailing National Health Service, being reminded of her lapse into private healthcare was not something she appreciated.
"When did you audition for this one?"
"Last week."
"You auditioned for a marriage-wrecking temptress last week?" In Guy's bright blue eyes, the faint light of recognition shone. "But you only had one audition last week."
Samantha nodded.
"The one for the TV drama?"
"That's it."
"But you always said TV drama was the lowest form of thespian life apart from tampon ads."
"Well, even the most experienced actress needs to extend her range from time to time," purred Samantha. "Besides, you never know who might be watching."
"Like Steven Spielberg, for example?" Guy snorted.
"Very possibly." What exactly was he finding so funny? Her clenched thighs, she was uncomfortably aware, were beginning to develop a cramp.
"And you say the part is a femme fatale and a schemer? Helen of Troy and all that?"
Samantha jerked her chin up and down, noticing that, for some reason, the corners of Guy's mouth were quivering.
"So you're not talking about that part as a pub landlady in Peak Practice ?"
"It's not Peak Practice . It's Country Clinic ."
"The same, isn't it? Doctors shagging each other in hayfields?"
Samantha blasted her husband with a glare somewhere off the bottom of the Kelvin scale. "Why do you have to be so bloody reduc tive ? It's a jewel of a role. The possibilities are endless . And every part is open to interpretation." Samantha stopped and sighed theatrically. "That's one great thing I learned from Hughie…"
"From what I recall about Hughie," Guy sniggered, seeing the undefended goal posts before him, "his parts were open to more than bloody interpretation."
Samantha's nostrils flared. Yet she was determined not to lose her temper.
"So where does the lust come in?" Guy persisted.
"My character, Christabel, the barmaid," Samantha sniffed with dignity, "has an adulterous fling with one of the doctors. He's an alcoholic."
"But why are the consequences far-reaching?"
"Because Country Clinic is on a major network, isn't it?" Samantha raged. "It has millions of viewers. It's my big break, for Christ's sake." She raised one thigh and clambered stiffly off him. The countryside conversation would clearly have to be postponed, as, by the looks of it, would the jungle massacre. Judging from the flaccid organ flopped over Guy's right thigh, the victim had fled in any case.
Chapter Five
"So." Nigel from Kane, Birch & Spankie, Estate Agents, beamed encouragingly. "What do you think?"
Rosie smiled uncertainly. "Um…" Phrases existed, she knew, that would precisely
"Before I kill you, there's something I have to ask you," she growled.
Guy groaned in disappointment. "But I've just got myself all psyched up for a hideous and painful death."
"I have to talk to you about Christabel." Having discussed the significance of the part, it would be easy to move on to moving to the country.
Guy, however, had other significant parts in mind. "Oh, Christ . Not her again. Do we have to?" As he wriggled in frustration beneath her, she clenched her thigh muscles tighter. "OK," Guy groaned, half anguished, half ecstatic. "Talk to me about her. Who is she?"
"A temptress. A schemer. A marriage wrecker."
"Bloody hell." Guy looked impressed. "Well, she'll certainly make a change from all those healthcare program breast-checking videos."
Samantha looked stony. For reasons utterly unconnected with the ailing National Health Service, being reminded of her lapse into private healthcare was not something she appreciated.
"When did you audition for this one?"
"Last week."
"You auditioned for a marriage-wrecking temptress last week?" In Guy's bright blue eyes, the faint light of recognition shone. "But you only had one audition last week."
Samantha nodded.
"The one for the TV drama?"
"That's it."
"But you always said TV drama was the lowest form of thespian life apart from tampon ads."
"Well, even the most experienced actress needs to extend her range from time to time," purred Samantha. "Besides, you never know who might be watching."
"Like Steven Spielberg, for example?" Guy snorted.
"Very possibly." What exactly was he finding so funny? Her clenched thighs, she was uncomfortably aware, were beginning to develop a cramp.
"And you say the part is a femme fatale and a schemer? Helen of Troy and all that?"
Samantha jerked her chin up and down, noticing that, for some reason, the corners of Guy's mouth were quivering.
"So you're not talking about that part as a pub landlady in Peak Practice ?"
"It's not Peak Practice . It's Country Clinic ."
"The same, isn't it? Doctors shagging each other in hayfields?"
Samantha blasted her husband with a glare somewhere off the bottom of the Kelvin scale. "Why do you have to be so bloody reduc tive ? It's a jewel of a role. The possibilities are endless . And every part is open to interpretation." Samantha stopped and sighed theatrically. "That's one great thing I learned from Hughie…"
"From what I recall about Hughie," Guy sniggered, seeing the undefended goal posts before him, "his parts were open to more than bloody interpretation."
Samantha's nostrils flared. Yet she was determined not to lose her temper.
"So where does the lust come in?" Guy persisted.
"My character, Christabel, the barmaid," Samantha sniffed with dignity, "has an adulterous fling with one of the doctors. He's an alcoholic."
"But why are the consequences far-reaching?"
"Because Country Clinic is on a major network, isn't it?" Samantha raged. "It has millions of viewers. It's my big break, for Christ's sake." She raised one thigh and clambered stiffly off him. The countryside conversation would clearly have to be postponed, as, by the looks of it, would the jungle massacre. Judging from the flaccid organ flopped over Guy's right thigh, the victim had fled in any case.
Chapter Five
"So." Nigel from Kane, Birch & Spankie, Estate Agents, beamed encouragingly. "What do you think?"
Rosie smiled uncertainly. "Um…" Phrases existed, she knew, that would precisely
Similar Books
