You’re an artist. You want to live forever. And now you can, in my book.

Aspiring (and failing) writer Jesse told herself she’d never see her old flame Lucas again. But it’s 11pm and he’s just got a big book deal. With a string of shitty writing gigs behind her, a quick pity-hook-up could help her get a foot in the publishing world. So it’s on. Their night begins as an innocent rendezvous, but when Lucas reveals that his book is about his sexual experiences with Jesse, things get messy. Whose perspective is right?

With riotous wit, surprising tenderness and the most awkward sex scene in history, Last Time asks, what do we really owe each other? Can our situationships ever give us what we need? Also, why is there a massive poster of Napoleon Bonaparte on stage?

“Yeates and Beckett are both masterful performers and absolute dynamite together… the confidence they both emit with this verbose, knowing and deeply layered text is palpable… Lotte Beckett is stupendous as the acerbic, cool calibrated Jesse.” - Theatre Matters