Valentine has arrived late for an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Seeing the door to the theatre is closed she kneels down and looks through the keyhole and gets more than she has bargained for…

She was just about to get up when the door opened and she found herself staring straight into a denim crotch. A very nice one she had to admit, just the right proportions, but oh God never mind that now! She just hoped it wasn’t the director or maybe it would be good if it was. She had never gone the casting couch route before but frankly right now she was willing to try almost anything to get a part.
Hastily she averted her gaze upwards into an amused pair of dark brown eyes, owned by a very handsome man. Surely too striking to be a director? He had leading man stamped all over his gorgeous face and his broad shouldered, sexy, lean limbed body, all six foot two of it by her reckoning, though it was hard to be sure from the position she was in. ‘I don’t usually have this effect on women on first meeting – I’d say usually half way through the second date,’ he said smiling, his brown eyes with a very naughty glint in them. Was he flirting with her? Valentine felt at a horrible disadvantage. She hastily scrambled to her feet and stuck out her hand, ‘Valentine Fleming, I’m so sorry I’m late.’
‘Really? A Valentine on Valentine’s day? But isn’t it a boy’s name?’ he asked as he shook her hand. His hand felt cool and firm. Valentine prayed that hers didn’t feel sweaty. She did so hate a moist palm herself.
‘Yes, it’s a boy’s name,’ Valentine replied trying not to go into surly teenager mode, people were always telling her this, ‘I was born on Valentine’s day and so that’s why my mum chose it.’
‘Happy birthday then,’ the good looking man said, ‘We’ve got a bit of a theme here as I’m Jack Hart. Harts and Valentines we go together.’
Alright he was good looking but he also seemed a bit of a wanker. ‘So you’re not the director are you?’ Valentine asked, surreptitiously trying to smooth down her wild hair, as she followed him into the theatre. ‘Nope, another actor like you, the director’s just nipped out for a fag, said he’d be back in a minute.’ His dark brown eyes moved over her appraisingly. ‘You might want to do up your dress before he gets back, unless it’s deliberate, in which case, very nice.’
Valentine looked down. The wrap dress had unwrapped. Her come to bed black lace bra was on full display. Usually it was strictly reserved for the bedroom as it was ferociously scratchy and totally revealing but she’d had to wear it as she’d run out of clean lingerie.
‘Don’t worry, it could have been worse, I once did a whole audition with my flies undone.’ Jack continued.
‘Did you get the part or just show yours?’ Valentine muttered sarcastically, feeing that Jack Hart, although undeniably attractive, was way too cocky. She would have bet money on him going to public school and then to Oxford. He had that kind of easy confidence that only came with money and privilege and always getting what you wanted. She was self aware enough to admit to having a slight chip on her shoulder after going to a rubbish comprehensive, and coming from a very non theatre family where the only books in the house were John Grisham’s and Dan the Da Vinci Code Brown’s, and the only family trips to the theatre had been to pantomimes.
‘Both actually.’
‘So what part are you up for now?’ Valentine asked.
‘Bottom,’ Jack replied grinning wickedly, ‘So as you’re in love with me.’
‘Yeah, only because I’ve been drugged!’ Valentine shot back.