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The Rehearsal Ch. 1

By: Zazbek



It was fall in Idaho, and the leaves had abandoned the trees, congregating in big piles on the ground. Not winter yet, nevertheless the scent of snow was in the air. The days felt brisk and crackly, and everything seemed new and sharp. I had been back in school for a month or so, and was deeply in rehearsal for our college production of "Bus Stop," in which I played "Bo," the male lead. I knew most of the cast already, having been in many productions with them previously, and I was mostly comfortable with what I was called upon to do. I say "mostly" because the girl that was playing "Cherie," Vivian, was one I had never met before, and I couldn't figure her out at all.

Consistently after rehearsals, most of us went out or to one another's apartments and spent time together. Not Vivian, though. regardless of how often we would invite her or how much it appeared as though she would like to come along, she never did. She would leave after we were done every night, and we never saw her again until she came back to start again the next night.

Things were going well, though. Since we had all started rehearsals off book, which rarely happens in my experience with local and college productions, the show was quickly coming together. Several of us had come in hours before we were needed to work on the sets, and consequently they were nearly completed. The show itself is a simple one, and we were all pretty certain that we would be ready and sharp for opening night. In fact, there was only one little, niggling doubt in my mind, and that had to do with my ingénue. 

There was a point in the play where Vivian and I were supposed to kiss, and we had been putting it off. For some reason, it just never seemed to be the right thing to do, and, apparently, we were both very uncomfortable with each other. While the director had been pushing at us for the better part of a week to just kiss and get beyond it, neither of us seemed to feel that we could go ahead. At least, that's how it played out in my head. I was wrong, of course, but I only found that out later. For my part, I only knew that I was not comfortable, and her ambivalence made me very willing to let it pass.

Late one evening about a week before opening, though, the director yelled at us when we ducked, and insisted that we sit down somewhere comfortable and neck. He shooed the rest of the cast out and sent them home to work on their lines, while Vivian and I remained there by ourselves on the set. The director sat in the house, center and about halfway back, and started the scene. We got to the kiss, and kind of dodged it. We tried again, and an actual kiss ensued, but from his groans, I'm sure that we looked about as passionate as Donald Trump kissing a trout. Over and over we tried until he finally yelled at us, told us to fix the fucking problem ourselves, and stomped out.

So there we were, thoroughly embarrassed, staring at each other as the door slammed in the back of the theatre. She looked at me, then stepped over to a barstool and sat down. I sat at a table, and we stared at each other. Finally, I just cracked, I guess. "What is it with you, huh? Do I suck that badly, or do you just think I look like shit?"

She looked very puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

"Look," I said, "We've been trying to do this forever, and I have never had a problem onstage like this before, so I have to proceed from the assumption that you find me personally as attractive as raw meat on a hot day."

She looked at the floor, then shook her head. "That's not true. I think you're terrific, and I love the way you're playing "Bo." I'm just feeling really confused, and it's bothering me a lot." She suddenly seemed sad and miserable.

"What are you confused about? What's so tough about this?"

"There's nothing particularly tough in the show. Cheri's pretty straight forward. It's just things…other stuff.." She shook her head and toyed with a ring on her hand.

"Lokk, if it isn't the show itself, it is damn sure becoming a part of the process here. Maybe I can help, I don't know."

She looked me in the eyes, and sat up straight. "Why should you care? I mean, really? What's in this for you?"

"Well, for starters, if we get this sorted out, neither of us look like an idiot on opening night. Does that work for you?"

"It's just the show and just about you? I can't believe this. You don't know anything about me, and probably don't want to know anything, and the only reason we're sitting here talking is because we have this show we share, and we don't want to look stupid. God no, we can't have that." She suddenly looked a little older and a lot more tired.

"This is all such bullshit," I said, getting a little steamed. "I have tried to be a good partner for you in this show, and I have never succeeded in getting you to show even a little genuine, off-stage friendliness. Cordial? Yeah, you are that, but friendly, even nice, not too damn much. I can't figure you out, and I can't say I care about that too much, but I do care that the show goes well. I'm an actor, damnit, and a pretty good one. I don't want to look like shit out there, and I'm guessing you'd rather not look stupid, either. So we have to work together and that means we have to look like we enjoy each other's company."

She seemed forlorn, frighteningly unhappy all of a sudden. She stared at the table in front of her, eyes shifting and tearing up, then she stood up, walked over to where I was sitting, and kissed me almost desperately, pressing her body up against mine. We kissed for several long moments, and it picked up steam, leaving her moaning slightly and pushing her breasts up against my chest. Finally, we stopped, and she stepped back several feet and stared at me, eyes shiny and wide awake.

I cleared my throat. "Shame you never learned how to kiss properly, but that will have to do. How do you think it looked?"

She was watching me with a slight smile, her breathing slowing. "I'm sure it looked pretty hot."

"Did it feel pretty hot?"

She shook her head. "Men are pretty stupid, really. Yes, it felt hot, but that's probably because I've wanted to do that for weeks now, and I was afraid I'd scare you off." She sat down on a bar stool. "I'm still kind of afraid of that."

"You wanted to do that?" She nodded solumnly. "Why didn't you say so?"

She looked down at the table. "You ever wonder why I never go out with you guys after rehearsal?"

I shrugged. "I just thought you had other things to do. I thought you might live out of town, might be married, something like that."

She seemed sadly amused. " Not married, not busy, really. Do you want to know why?" I looked at her, then nodded. "Fine," she said, "But it isn't pretty. The fact is, I live in a halfway house, and I have to be back before eleven. There, now you know." She slumped over the table, miserable.

I stared for a moment. "Why do you live in a halfway house?" She looked at me, almost angry, and then the anger faded from her eyes. "I knew you'd ask that." She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her skirt. "My dad got me thrown in juvie a whole bunch of times because I would run away and stuff. I couldn't stand it at home after mom died. He would watch me all the time, and he would walk in on me after I took a shower or while I was getting dressed. He never touched me or anything, but it just felt bad, so I would leave and he'd report me as a runaway."

I listened carefully, nodding and encouraging her to talk. "So the cops would bring me back home and it would start all over again. Then I'd leave and get dragged back. Finally, they started to throw me in juvie instead of sending me home." She pulled a cigarette out of her purse, lit it and puffed deeply. "After I was of age, the cops wouldn't lock me up anymore and dad had no hold on me. So then he reported me as a prostitute. I got caught one night in a motel with a boyfriend who was married, and after they threatened him, he told the cops what they wanted to hear. When I got out on bail, I went to his house and met him in the yard with an old shotgun my dad had. I threatened him with the gun, which wasn't loaded, and the prosecutor got me locked up for 6 months, with another six in halfway, which brings us up to now." She looked up at me almost defiantly.

"I just have one question. Did his wife find out?"

She smile wryly. "Yes, but she's sticking it out. She should have castrated him." She looked at me carefully, trying to read something in my eyes. "So, what do you think now? Am I some kind of lunatic? Do you still want to work with me?" She started to pace. "If you don't, that's ok, I guess. I can quit, find a reason. I'd prefer it if you didn't tell the others. Is that ok?"

She turned and looked at me with some residual pain in her eyes, but she looked strikingly beautiful in spite of her fragility. I smiled at her, then stepped over to her, and tilted her chin up with my fingers. "Tell them what? That you are a gorgeous girl who's had some shitty breaks, or that you are a gorgeous girl with a mysterious past ," I said, and then I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. For a moment, nothing much happened, and then I felt her lips began to stir. They opened slightly, and a tiny little moan escaped from the back of her throat. She pressed back against my lips, then put her hands on my shoulders and brought me in closer. Her legs spread, and she pulled me down to where she sat, kissing me strongly and putting her fingers through the hair on the nape of my neck. We were like that for quite some time, and then she stopped and pulled away far enough to look me in the eyes. "Will that work for the play?" she smiled brightly, and her eyes sparkled.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her again, more tenderly this time. I pulled away, looked her over. "Well, that was only incredible! I doubt I'll ever get the kinks out of the lower half of my anatomy, but I can live with that if you can."

"Let me help you with those kinks," she said with a wicked little smile. She unbuttoned my pants with her little fingers, and freed me from my briefs. My cock sprang out like a coil spring, ready for action. She ran her fingers over it lightly, watching it pulsate. Without a word, she reached down and pulled up the hem of her dress. Her panties were frilly and gossamer, almost non-existent. It was very apparent that her pussy was as bare as a baby's bottom, swollen and very wet. She grabbed my ass, and pulled me towards her. I moved the wisp of fabric aside, then pushed towards her until I struck home. She almost purred. "Oh God, this is so good! Please do me…do me nice and slow…"

We fell into a rhythm slow and careful. She was incredibly tight and she was sopping wet. I found her pert little breasts with the palm of my hand, moving over them through her shirt, and then I unbuttoned her top and brushed it back over her shoulders. I reached under her, grasped her bottom in both of my hands, and lifted her up and onto the table with her back to the door. It had suddenly occurred to me that we might not be alone very long. I started to stroke deeper and faster, kissing her neck and chest. I moved up to her face in time to see her eyes suddenly open very wide while her pussy clamped down very tightly. 

She whimpered and tossed her hair from side to side and then came explosively. She pulled on me, trying to get me deeper inside her and make me cum, too. I was getting very close when I began to hear noises out by the box office. I pulled out, told her what I heard, and we quickly got ourselves together. A moment or so later, the director stumped back in and asked us if we had our problem solved yet. Yes, we replied, we did. He half-smiled, looked suspicious, and then gave it up.

The Rehearsal Ch. 2



At the director's insistence, we spent a little more time that evening running through the scene in question, but it was clear to him that we had solved our problem. 

"I don't know what you did or how you fixed this," he said, tapping his pen against his clipboard, "and I don't really care. It looks great." With that, he walked to the back of the house, turned, smiled broadly, and said "lock up when you leave." And the door slammed behind him.

I took Vivian's hand, and we walked to the main door, locked it, and went to the green room, which had a couple of couches. I had plans for her. Turns out she had plans for me, first.

I took her in my arms and looked into her water blue eyes, then kissed her carefully but firmly. I had already taken her briefly before, but now I wanted to luxuriate in the experience.

Her hair, floating around her face, was a light brown pile of waves and reddish highlights, and I stroked it lightly before I took her face in my hands. She looked incredibly young and solemn. Then I kissed her again, a kiss which quickly became more passionate. I began to explore the curves of her body, searching and questing with hands and tongue. She started to breathe faster, and her hands grasped my shoulders tightly. Then, abruptly, she unwound me from her body and stepped back, eyes very bright. She was smiling slightly as she watched me watch her. And then she began to move.

Vivian started a very slow and very controlled dance. There was no music beside that noiseless tune she followed in her own mind, but she listened and her body moved. She tossed her hair back, swaying to the side, and cocked her hip, then released and began slow turns. As she turned, she traced her figure with her hands. I sat on the couch, rapt, and watched the show.

From the first time I saw her, I thought her body was incredible. Her breasts are smallish, 34B or so, but they are very well shaped. Her areolae are just slightly brownish pink, about the size of an old silver cartwheel coin, and her nipples stand out sharply when she is aroused. Her waist is small, and my hands can almost meet around it when I grasp her on either side. Consequently, her hips and ass, though not large at all, stand out in comparison. And her legs…oh my. And all of these treasures were mine, revealed in short increments as she moved. 

First, her blouse was unbuttoned, toyed with, and cast aside, then her skirt hit the floor. She stroked the sides of her tits, then popped them out of the top of her bra and lightly pinched her nipples. They crinkled up happily, sending a corresponding jolt to my cock, which was straining ferociously inside my Levi's. I moved things a bit, gaining a little more comfort as I sat and watched Vivian move. 

She ran her hand down inside her panties, fingers playing over her mound, and she shivered at one point as she obviously found her clit. She moved her hips against her hand in a short circle, then stopped after a moment, carefully tracing her side with her moisture.

Then she spun around and bent over, displaying her tight and shapely bottom while unclasping her bra. She pulled the bra off, letting her tits hang, then stood and turned, letting her breasts sway and move. She started to walk to me, then stopped, took the wispy panties in both hands, and pulled them down from her hips to her feet and stepped out of them. And she walked over to me.

She leaned down to kiss me, and I took her ass in my hands. When she stood back up and put her hands on my shoulders, I traced her navel with my tongue, and worked my way slowly lower to her shaved pussy. She moved her legs apart slightly more and I licked lightly around her upper thighs, then widened them again as I traced the soft skin around her cunt.

She gasped as I took her labia in between my lips and flicked against it. She began to move against my face, trying to get her pussy into as much contact with my tongue as possible. She tasted musky and sweet, and she ran her hands through my hair as I explored her. Her breathing picked up, and when I felt up her body and found her nipples with my fingers, they were tightly, almost painfully crinkled. I played with them, and she gasped and moved her hips even more sharply against my mouth.

"Oh my God," she whimpered, "what are you doing to me? Oh, oh..oh God, I'm going to ..I'm going…Jake! Jake!" She cried out, and pushed her pussy to me harder as I licked her engorged clit.

And then I stopped. She stood there for a moment, gasping for breath. I moved back slightly and looked up at her. She looked at me, wild-eyed, and then dropped to her knees and began tearing at my pants. "Help me, Jake," she said, undoing my belt and unzipping the front. "Lift up your hips." I did, and she yanked them off with all the skill of a registered nurse, then peeled my boxers with similar speed. I pulled my shirt over my head without bothering to unbutton it, and we were both bare in seconds. And then, all at once she was astride my lap and I was inside her tight little box. 

She moved up and down, beginning slowly, dragging her tits across my chest and over my mouth. She got a nipple into my mouth, and I lightly licked, then sucked it, which made her start to bounce up and down quickly on my cock.

My crotch was being drenched with her juices, and she fastened her lips onto mine, tasting herself on me, licking herself off of me. I grasped her ass with both hands, got one of my fingers soaking wet from her pussy, and then found her tight little sphincter. I traced around it, then plunged my finger inside her. She squealed against my mouth, and she started to cum violently. She plunged up and down, smacking her thighs against my own like hands clapping, and then started to move spasmodically. She pulled her mouth free from mine, and with a series of falsetto "huhhh's," exploded. 

After a moment, she curled around me like a kitten, my cock still hard as a rock inside of her, twitching. "Give me a moment," she said, lightly kissing my neck. She caught her breath, dismounted, then slid down between my legs and took my cock in her hands.

She lightly licked the tip, making me shudder, and smiled, looking me in the eyes.

And then she began to play me like a fine concert piano. Using fingers, lips and tongue, she spent the next what seemed like an eternity bringing me to the brink of explosion, then pulling back. She apparently paid close attention to when I started to swell up prepatory to cumming, and she would stop, letting me twitch and moan. Finally, when I could not tell where this joyous agony stopped and the cumming started, she took me deep within her throat and started to swallow. She gagged slightly, then settled into a rythmn which let her throat muscles play over my dick like ticklish little feathers. And suddenly I burst, feeling my hips shoot up quickly, as she swallowed furiously. A moment later, I was spent, and we were lying on the couch, holding each other.

After a timeless interval, I glanced at my watch, then became alarmed when I noticed that it was 10:30. We got dressed quickly, ran out to my car, and I drove like a semi-drunken fool. But we got her back before curfew, and we kissed for a moment in the car before she went in.

The remaining time before "Bus Stop" opened was a blur. There were sets to be built, rehearsals to attend, and publicity to attend to. All of these things conspired to steal time away from me and my co-star (now lover). Additionally, there was the problem of her curfew at the halfway house. And, good God, there was still class to attend. As you can see, things were a little frantic.

The problem with Vivian I attended to the next morning. One of the many advantages to being an actor (particularly one who has worked within a community for a good many years) is that you get to meet everyone important at one time or another. I had been acting in town for three years in college, and had gone to high school there, also. When you add in the fact that my father had been a state representative for six terms (until he started voting as he damn well pleased and found that the public didn't like it one little bit), I am actually politically well-connected. I placed a call to a family friend, a local magistrate, who said he'd talk to us about Vivian's case. We met, and he talked to her at length. Apparently he believed her as I had, because he began working through the list of his friends. Two days later, her sentence was administratively halfed (which meant she had only about a month left) and her curfew was extended to 1:00 AM.

She and I started to steal time together in the late afternoon while helping to build sets. We would work like dogs for an hour or so, then vanish into the caverns of our old theatre building, picking up where we left off before. 

We would go to the costume storage rooms and get into period outfits, then screw like rabbits. I particularly liked it when she got into an Elizabethan dress, full corset with boobies bulging upwards to the point of popping her nips out. I wore a satin outfit with cape, form-fitted vest and frilled sleeves, and tights with a cod-piece. A cod-piece, to the uninformed, is a buttoned pouch that holds the family jewelry. I bent Viv over a table, pulling her skirt and hoops up to reveal her bare little bottom. I sank to my knees, pulled her legs apart, and went to work on her pussy with fingers and tongue. Bent over as she was and wearing cumbersome clothing, there was nowhere she could go and nothing much she could do besides stay there and let me have my wicked way with her. And, oh my, I did. 

When I built her to a fever pitch and she was literally wet down almost to her knees, I stood, dropped my codpiece, and rogered the living hell out of her while she whooped with pleasure. All things considered, it was a damned good thing that the storage rooms were a) in the basement, and b) far away from pretty much everything else that was commonly in use. We had a fair amount of privacy and took advantage of it.

All of which leads us naturally to what actually happened during the run of the show, and where we are today. And, yes, we are still a we. But there's much more to tell.