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Thespian Love

By: Moondrift



Looking back now over several decades I wonder at how naïve, how innocent, most of us young people were, especially when it came to sex. For those who have been born since those days in the nineteen forties and fifties, you probably won't believe me when I say that at nineteen years of age I had never had a sexual intercourse. Nevertheless it is true, and it was true of many of the young people in our village.

Of course the boys used to boast about their sexual experiences, but most of it wasn't true, and if it was they usually found themselves in front of the vicar being married to a very pregnant bride, because whatever means of contraception were around in those days, we were mostly ignorant of them. So the village girls spent a lot of time fighting off the boys' wandering hands, knowing what the outcome would probably be if they succumbed.

To give you a bit of background: My name is Trevor Trudinga and I was born in St. Monica's by the Brook, usually abbreviated by the locals to "St. Mons." The implications of this abbreviation were lost to most of us back then. 

I had hardly ever been outside the village, except just before Christmas when my parents took us kids to buy the Christmas presents in the County Town that was the unbelievably vast distance of eight miles from our village. Other boys and girls were not given even this adventure and would say things like, "I ain't ever been there nor do I ever want to." 

The village was hardly a hive of industry and was made up of those who worked as labourers in the surrounding farms; the people who worked for the few shop keepers, tradespeople or as servants for the Big Wigs. These days you might say "the place was lost in time." 

A word about the Bigwigs; there were those who had beyond living memory, always been there, like the people up at the "Big House." Then there were "The Foreigner Big Wigs." The latter were the sort of people who had arrived in the village, to use a later expression, "To get away from it all," and who had only been around the place for a while – anywhere between newly arrived and thirty years.

They were something of a mystery to us real villagers and many of them seemed to have heaps of money and had by our standards no visible means of earning it. At the same time they gradually came to take over village affairs, but more of that shortly.

Regarding myself, well, I was one of the more fortunate of the village youth. When I left school at fourteen and a half I got an apprenticeship with the only local electrician. This put me, as you might say, among the elite of the village youth, along with the plumber's and the butcher's apprentices. 

When I was about sixteen I came to realise that there was little for us teenagers to do in the village. There was a Saturday night film show in a dilapidated corrugated iron hall and an occasional "Village hop" in the church hall; and this is where the Big Wig foreigners came into the picture.

One of them, or maybe more, got the idea that, "The young people need something to do that will enhance their cultural awareness." This began a rash of clubs in the village; Morris dancing, gymnastics, hiking, music appreciation, arts and crafts and the club that I got involved with, The St. Monica's Thespians. I think all these activities were more for the entertainment of the Big Wigs rather than the cultural elevation of us village young people.

I got involved because of one of the village girls I was a bit keen on and who let me hold her hand when we went to see a film together and had let me kiss her a couple of times, was involved. She had joined the Thespians and she'd given me a free ticket to go and see a play they were putting on at the church hall. I'd never seen a live play before, and although now I can see how lousy the actors were, at the time I thought they were marvellous as I laughed my way through a slightly risqué comedy.

It was a few weeks after seeing this play that the girl – I remember now, her name was Brenda – said to me, "Trev, were starting to rehearse a new play but we can't get enough men, the boys think its sissy to be in something like that. Would you come along with me, it's ever so much fun."

I didn't like the idea, but thinking it might lead to more kisses with Brenda, and after a bit of imploring on her part, I agreed to give it a try.

The rehearsals were held in the house of a couple of foreigner Big Wigs, Major and Mrs. Price-Evans because they had a big room. I went feeling somewhat nervous and wondering how I could face the other boys in the village when they knew what I was doing.

It turned out that Major Price-Evans was what they called then "The producer," which meant he told everyone else what to do. He was a big, tweedy, loud voiced man who spoke in a posh voice and looked as if he was about forty years of age.

"Aha," he bawled when Brenda introduced me, "a young hopeful...good...excellent, just what we're looking for." He seemed to think I was about half a mile away from him the way he yelled.

Mrs. Price-Evans looked younger than the major and a lot more attractive; she spoke quietly but as I was to find out, she could be somewhat compelling. I guessed her to be around the mid twenties.

When Brenda introduced me to her she said, "Brenda darling, where did you find him. Nigel" – that was the major – "I think we've got our juvenile lead."

Nigel responded, "Yes...yes...he looks the part, but can he speak...can he move?"

Since he'd seen me walk into the room and I'd said, "Pleased to meet you," when we were introduced, I thought his question a bit odd.

"Well let's give him something to read," Mrs. Price-Evans said.

I had the feeling that they were talking about me as if I wasn't there, but after a bit of a conference the two of them found a place in a little book that I afterwards learned was called a script, I was told to "project darling."

Now I'd always come top of the class for reading, and the vicar often got me to read from the bible in church, so I was rather proud of my ability. Mrs. Price-Evans came and stood close to me and said, "In this scene Pam has just broken off her engagement to Joe who has arrived to try and find out what he'd done wrong. Pam is reassuring him he has done nothing wrong and she still loves him passionately."

I wondered why, if she loved him passionately, she'd broken off the engagement, but apparently this didn't matter. The script was very different from the things I'd read before, with lots of words in brackets and written in italics. To make matters worse there were half a dozen other people sitting around staring at me.

Mrs. Price-Evans made a start and I tried to sort out which words I was supposed to read and what not to read. I made a horrible mess of it.

"No...no...no..." boomed the major, "this won't do at all. He's supposed to be angry but still deeply in love and he's reading it like a laundry list."

"Patience Nigel, he's only just seen the script and he's probably never done anything like this before...you haven't, have you?"

"No," I said, slightly red faced and annoyed at the way they talked about me as if I wasn't there.

"All right...all right..." the major said, "let's give it another try if you think it's worth it."

We began again, and I was determined to show I could do it. Being the second time I did do better, but the major wasn't satisfied. 

Mrs. Price-Evans said rather stiffly, "Nigel, all he needs is practice and rehearsal. Look at him; he's perfect for the apart. Let's see how he moves. Darling, go out of the door, and then come in and approach me like a young man desperately in love yet angry with me."

I got outside the door all right, but hadn't the least idea how you approached someone that you're in love with and angry with at the same time. I wasn't sure that a few extra kisses from Brenda was worth all this humiliation.

The major's voice boomed out, "Well, are you coming in or not?"

I thought, "Bugger you major, I'll show you."

I burst into the room and hurtled over to Mrs. Price-Evans and said the first line; "I was just pissing and I thought I'd pop in."

There was a roar of laughter from the watchers and Mrs. Price-Evans, and a cry of despair from the major.

"The word is passing...passing...not...oh my God, it's bloody hopeless." 

"I've had enough," I said, and started to walk out.

Mrs. Price-Evans followed me and took my arm saying, "Don't go, please, you can do it, I'll teach you."

The major intervened saying, "But he's got no idea..."

"Be quiet Nigel; how good were you the first time you read a script? Trevor looks perfect for the part, tall, good-looking, and he'll be all right I promise you."

The major seemed to sink into a shell saying, "Well, if you think so."

"You'd like to play the part, wouldn't you Trevor?" asked Mrs. Price-Evans.

Having been on the receiving end of her flattery of my she had me well and truly on side. "Yes, if you want me to and if you'll teach me what to do," I said.

"Good, then let's get on with it Nigel."

The major sighed deeply, looked around at the gathering, and said, "Right, we'll just do a read through of the whole play for the benefit of our young...er...friend."

I hadn't really tumbled to the fact that Mrs. Price-Evans was playing the part of the erstwhile fiancé, nor had I realised that my role would involve some pretty hot love scenes. As we progressed through the play my reading improved, but my doubts about being able to engage in passionate embraces with Mrs. Price-Evans grew. 

Had it been Brenda, who was playing the part of a bridesmaid, I might have felt more secure, but the slightly imperious though undoubtedly attractive Mrs. Price-Evans, made me feel daunted. 

When we had read through the play the major said somewhat reluctantly, "All right, he'll do. Thursday night everybody and we'll start to move the play, and for God's sake start learning your lines. We don't want a debacle like that time the prompter spoke more lines than the actors."

As we walked home together I told Brenda of my doubts about appearing as Mrs. Price-Evans fiancé.

"I think you're very lucky, Trev," she said, "She's a very attractive woman and there are a lot of boys in the village who'd like to play love scenes with her."

I refrained from pointing out that until I'd come along there didn't seem to have been many of the boys offering for the role. But I thought it might start an argument and I wouldn't get a goodnight kiss. I didn't get much of a kiss anyway; just a quick peck on the mouth and the assurance that she was looking forward to rehearsing with me.

By Thursday night the major seemed to be reconciled to my being in the play, and although he was supposed to tell us what to do he almost ignored me, leaving it to his wife to shuffle me into various positions. 

What I discovered during the evening was that my hands became much larger and more prominent and I didn't know what to do with them. In addition I found that I had more feet than I'd arrived with and I kept getting them tangled up.

When I was told to move up stage or down stage I had no idea where they were, and left and right seemed to escape me. 

On occasions when the major chose to recognise my existence he would bellow, "No...no...for Christ sake the other way...no...I said two paces..."

Mrs. Price-Evens was continually coming to my rescue, "This way Trevor...that's right; now just keep still."

Even when we engaged in an embrace and I trod on her feet she did not lose patience and said, "We'll leave the embraces and kissing until we've had a few practices on our own and you'll get more confidence that way."

Again I felt like walking out, but with my hopes for closer contact with Brenda still high I hung in. 

At the end of the evening Mrs. Price-Evans made an arrangement with me for a private rehearsal on Saturday afternoon, and when the major said, "Okay everybody, Monday evening, and don't bloody well be late," the rehearsal broke up and I walked home with Brenda.

On the way I was surprised when she said, "Isn't Nigel wonderful." 

I'd noticed everybody but me called him "Nigel," and Mrs. Price-Evans was "Nerina." As for Nigel being "wonderful," I made it plain that I thought he was a loud mouthed bully and couldn't understand why a nice woman like Mrs. Price-Evans had married him.

Brenda was somewhat put out by my frankness and said, "That's because you don't understand him. He's very talented, artistic and so masterful."

That I made no further comments about Nigel availed me nothing. My candid expression of what I thought about Nigel had already lost me my goodnight kiss.

Between Thursday night and Saturday afternoon I spent time trying to learn my lines. I didn't find this easy but felt I'd made some creditable progress. Approaching the Price-Evans house I felt somewhat edgy, wondering if Nigel would now start his yelling again. Fortunately he wasn't there. 

Before we began, and having addressed Mrs. Price-Evans as such, she invited me to call her Nerina. "After all, Trevor, you are a member of the troupe now, and we all call each other by our Christian names."

That settled we got down to work. It consisted largely of Nerina showing me how to hold her in loving and passionate embraces. I'd seen them do that sort of thing in films and it always looked so easy. When I came to try it arms and legs got tangled up and I was too shy to get close to Nerina.

She kept telling me to relax and hold her close, bringing this about by pulling close herself and tugging me to her. Jammed up against her I confess to experiencing some pleasant sensations. She was, as I have indicated, a very attractive woman, and having her lower half pressed against mine, and her somewhat prominent bosom against my chest, gave rise to feelings one was not supposed to have for a married woman, or, if the vicar was to be believed, for any woman.

We went through this routine several times and I was so involved that I forgot the words I'd so carefully memorised. Fortunately Nerina also seemed to be struggling for her words; or "lines" as she called them.

We went on practicing for about an hour with occasional breaks that seemed a sort of recovery period. We did not try kissing because Nerina had decided we could practice that on another occasion.

On Monday night we continued to be given our moves, and this time I had a better idea of which direction was where. My clinches with Nerina went off quite well and Nigel spent most of his time yelling at the other actors, all of them seeming to be in awe of him. 

He only bawled at me once when I failed to kiss Nerina. She pointed out to him quite calmly that this would come later after I'd had another session with her in private.

This didn't quieten him and he went on, talking again as if I wasn't there, "Well for God's sake how much longer is it going to bloody well take?"

This time I'd had enough, and as grateful as I was to Nerina for her patient help I hit back.

"If you talk about me or to me like that once more, I'll walk out."

There was a deathly hush. Everybody seemed to be waiting for Nigel to explode. Instead he collapsed like a balloon that had been stuck with a needle. He turned away and continued the rehearsal, gruffly giving me my moves when he had to.

My threat to walk out ended my hopes with Brenda.

"How could you talk to Nigel like that," she screeched at me when we got outside the house. "He's a wonderful man and you're nothing but an ignorant village boy."

I could have pointed out that when we were at school she'd always come near the bottom of the class, but any such retort was cut off when she announced, "And you needn't bother to walk home with me any more, you insensitive lout."

With that she flounced off and to my amazement I found I didn't care nearly as much as I thought I would. With Nerina's help I was starting to get some confidence in my thespian abilities, and having put a spoke in the wheel of Nigel's arrogance I was feeling good about myself.

The kissing practice with Nerina began as awkwardly as the embracing session. At this point I should perhaps explain some of the stumbling blocks at that time inherent in any other than a very formal relationship between myself and someone like Nerida.

First, was the simple fact that she was a married woman; second, my inexperience in, shall we say, handling a woman; third, although less rigidly held, was the idea that the man should be older than the woman if any intimate contact was to be engaged in; fourth, and the most strictly held to, was class distinction.

Although many people may have read "Lady Chatterley's Lover" with salacious interest, and there were rumoured to be cases where male servants engaged in sexual relationships with their female employers, the idea that a member of the "lower orders" should be involved with their "betters" in this way was considered abhorrent.

In our village as I have indicted, there were two sorts of "betters;" the people in the "Big House," who were our betters by divine right and always had been, and the foreign "Big Wigs." The latter were our betters largely because they had money and one way we of the lower orders could get our hands on to it was to "suck up" to the Big Wigs.

An ordinary villager needed to "know his or her place" in the divinely ordained scheme of things. A Big Wig could be the most scurrilous and outrageous person, breaking all the rules of morality and ethics as they were dinned into us by the vicar, but they were still a Big Wig and not be to questioned by the lower orders.

Nigel and Nerina were Big Wigs. I had already broken through the ancient taboo by standing up to Nigel, but being in close physical contact with Nerina was another thing altogether.

In these days of alleged egalitarianism many may find this rigid social arrangement nigh on incomprehensible, but for us that was how it was.

This was so much the case that my parents, when they learned of my involvement with the Thespians, and even though Brenda was also involved, warned me about getting above my station in life. I should point out that the others involved in the play were all Big Wigs. My father drove home the point by announcing, "No good will come of it; it's all the fault of the war (Second World War) and school learning."

Hence I had several barriers to overcome when getting into loving partnership with Nerida, even if only in play-acting. On her side Nerina seemed to have no difficulty in relating to me in this way and words often on her lips were, "Relax Trevor, there's nothing to get all tensed up about."

Once we started the kissing there was something very definite to get tensed up about, and I certainly did get tense, although I suspect not in the way she meant. I had hardly had a proper cuddle and kiss with a village girl, and to find myself in close encounter with a woman of some experience and sophistication had an alarming effect on me.

Nerina and I went beyond the practising of hugs and kisses to take in other aspects of the play. We rehearsed whole scenes in which we were together and soon we were both well ahead of the other actors at rehearsals, in lines, movement and the general understanding of what we were doing.

As the rehearsal time went on I came to see that Nerina in fact knew more about putting on a play than Nigel, despite his authoritarian manner. Actually I think his manner arose largely as cover up for his lack of ability.

When you first come into a social situation you tend to take things as they are. As time goes on you begin to see some of the dynamics of the situation. So it was for me with the Thespians. 

There were eight actors, three men and five women, plus a girl who was what they called "Props" and a guy who was stage manager. Ages ranged from about eighteen to fifty. There was a lot of "Dears," Darlings," and "Sweethearts," involved in their interaction. I later learned that this was how theatre people were supposed to address each other, even if they loathed each other.


Thespian Love



Monica turned the key in the backstage door, letting us into the darkened theatre. I flipped on the lights, and the two of us moved onto the set. We didn't come here to fool around. Honestly. We were here to go over some blocking for a few of our scenes together. 

The play is a hilarious comedy about infidelity and murder (trust me; it's funny), by a Canadian playwright, and I landed the lead (Peter) for our community theatre group's production. Monica is my leading lady (Kate), and she's perfectly suited to the role. She is a little too thin for my taste, but I still find her quite attractive. She's a hot little number, with super-wild fiery red hair, a cute little round butt, small but pert titties, and a pretty elfin face.

I won't go into all of the details, but basically, the play involves a cheating wife (Kate), and her nervous lover (Peter), who accidentally kills her husband when he comes home unexpectedly. Hilarity ensues (as hilarity is wont to do) as they try to figure out what to do, and how they will get away with it, without breaking a scandal, and without any of the many visitors figuring out what happened.

Things were going normally, at first. We made some progress with our scenes, and worked out many problems with the movement.

Then, we got to the bedroom scene.

We went over this scene several times, to get it right. Really! Just to get the movement and timing right. Not because it felt spectacular to be rolling around on a bed with a gorgeous half-naked redhead. In this scene, we were supposed to be just about to make love. Kate, dressed in a frilly nightie, climbs on top of Peter -- in walks her husband -- freeze -- curtain down -- next scene. That's what's supposed to happen.

We'd rehearsed this scene many times before, without anything stirring. Of course, that was with several other actors in the room, and the director interrupting us every third line to tell us how she wanted this line delivered, or that cross made. But now, we were alone, and on our third run-through, something happened.

A quick glance at our scripts, to remind ourselves of where we were in the play, and we got to work. Chasing me around the bed, Kate played a little game of cat and mouse, before grabbing me, throwing me down on the mattress, and pouncing for the kill. Straddling my hips, she delivered her line, "now you're mine!" and pressed her lips to mine for a passionate kiss. Remember, this is when her husband was supposed to walk in. But we were alone in the theatre, so there was nothing to interrupt us. The kiss lasted perhaps a half a second longer than it would have, if we'd had the actor playing Kate's husband. And she was straddling perhaps a half a foot lower on my body than she usually did during rehearsals. It's amazing how a small shift in timing and position can change a scene so dramatically.

Breaking the kiss, Monica looked at me in shocked surprise. I was blushing furiously, as my cock had grown to full rigidity, and there was no way she didn't detect it, considering she was straddled right over it. Fully expecting her to get angry, or at least embarrassed (as I was), and storm offstage, I tried to think of something to say that would diffuse the situation. But she didn't storm off. She didn't seem the least bit angry or embarrassed. Looking into my eyes, her expression changed from shock to mischief.

Leaning down to me again, she kissed me. She kissed me deeply and passionately, and it wasn't Kate kissing me this time, but Monica! Her tongue probed my mouth wetly, and she slowly ground her pussy against my hard cock, dryfucking me. It took me a moment to realize that her reaction was not the one I'd expected, but eventually, I did figure it out. I kissed her back with equal passion, meeting her probing tongue with mine, and cupping and squeezing her lovely ass with trembling hands.

Holding her close to me, I gently massaged her back and buttocks, and she ran her fingers through my hair, while kissing me hard on the mouth. Unbuttoning my shirt, Monica kissed my chest, and flicked her tongue over my nipples, while I helped her out of her nightie. We undressed each other carefully, so as not to rip our costumes, and piss off the Costumer (we were mad with passion, but we weren't stupid), and caressed and kissed each tantalizing bit of flesh as it was revealed. Stripped down to her silky blue panties, Monica pulled my face to her perfectly shaped little tits, and I took one of them into my mouth. Sighing a little sigh, she encouraged me to suck harder, and to bite her perky nipple. And as my teeth sank into her breast, she clawed at my back with her long nails.

Tugging at my boxer shorts, Monica soon had me completely nude, and she kissed the tip of my rock hard penis. Kneeling in front of me, and looking directly in my eyes, she licked my dick from the base, all the way up the shaft, to my engorged cockhead, flicking her tongue along the way. Mmmmm, it felt so nice, and my cock twitched at her touch. She climbed on top of me again, this time her position reversed, and lowered her panty-clad pussy to my waiting mouth. I breathed in her fragrant woman-scent, and kissing her panties, and tasting her salty wet desire through the thin material, I felt her mouth engulf my stiff prick, and slide her tongue all up and down the shaft. She took me all the way into her mouth, as far as it would go, before very slowly slipping it out again, and scraping the head with her teeth. I gasped, but I sure as Hell didn't complain!

Monica continued to suck my cock, and suck it so nicely, while I pulled her panties to one side, to taste her sweet nectar. And her pussy-juice was certainly worthy of the gods. Slurping noisily, I drank deeply of her cream and honey, sliding my tongue over and between her nether-lips, and flicking it over her clit, making her writhe in pure delectation. With my cock in her mouth, she moaned, and I felt the vibrations in my shaft and balls, and I couldn't help but thrust upwards, fucking her mouth. She didn't seem to mind, and she sucked harder and faster, and moaned lustily.

Tracing circles around the hood of her clit with my tongue, I slipped a finger between her dripping wet cunt-lips, and squeezed her ass with my other hand. I pushed back her hood, and gave her clitty direct stimulation with my tongue, while fingering her quivering cunt. I could have licked her pussy for hours, if it took hours to make her cum. It's something I simply love to do. But it didn't take hours. After a few minutes of licking and fingering, Monica was suddenly bucking like a wild mare. She was thrashing about, and I had to wrap my arms around her waist to keep her pussy in my face. Clutching her tightly, I pushed her that last inch towards rapture, and she came in waves, washing my face in her love-juice. Bless her, she tried her best to keep sucking my cock through all of this, but in the end she had to take her mouth off of it, to allow her screams to escape. And I'd always thought she was so quiet.

Dismounting from my face, Monica tackled me, covering me with kisses, and lapping up her juices from my face. She grabbed my cock, and I groaned in pleasure, as she kissed her way down my chest, and licked my nipples while stroking me gently. I helped her out of her panties, while she jerked me off, and kissed and nibbled on my sensitive nipples.

Leaving my nipples, Monica moved down my body, planting a tender kiss every inch or so along the way, finally kissing my penis again. She licked it like an ice-cream cone, and then slipped it into her mouth, sucking hard, and using her tongue wonderfully. I sat up, with my back to the headboard, so that I could get a better view of my cock moving in and out of her pretty mouth. She obviously loved sucking cock as much as I love eating pussy, and she was good at it. Grabbing a handful of her wild red mane of hair, I pushed my cock deep into her mouth, and told her with my moans what a great job she was doing.

Fucking Monica's mouth was fantastic, and I was soon on the very brink of climax. I truly wanted to fuck her pussy, and if I came in her mouth, I couldn't guarantee that I'd be up to it, so reluctantly, I pulled out of her mouth. It was just in time, too. I felt my orgasm building, tightening my ball-sack, and I think one more stroke would have driven me to the end. As it was, there was a large drop of pre-cum dribbling from my hard dick. Smiling sexily at me, she licked up my semen with the tip of her tongue, and then climbed onto my lap.

Wrapping her legs around my waist, Monica slid her pussy up and down on my cockshaft, kissing it with her pussylips as she kissed my mouth with hers. "You want to fuck me, don't you, Keith?" she asked rhetorically, as my cockhead rubbed her clit.

"I want to fuck you until you scream again," I answered.

"Mmmmmm! Sounds good to me!" she said, reaching down to guide my cock into her cunt. Lowering herself inch by inch onto my hardness, Monica began to bounce up and down on my lap, and I met her hips with powerful thrusts, fucking her hard and fast.

Reaching down between our bodies, I rubbed her clit with my fingers as she impaled herself on my stiff prick again and again, and I kissed her chest, and licked and nibbled her breasts. Our bodies were drenched in sweat from the heat of the stage lights, not to mention the heat of our passion, and locked in our ardorous embrace we lost ourselves in primal lust. "Fuck me harder!" she hissed in my ear, and I did as she requested, fucking her with everything I had, and she clawed at my back like a jungle cat taking down her prey. And roaring like a lion, I came inside her as she milked my cock with her pussy.

Her orgasm followed right behind mine, her thrashing nearly knocking us off the bed and onto the stage floor, and she screamed even louder than before. Every muscle in her body (including her pussy, which gripped my cock like a fist) tensed up, and in a sudden burst of energy, she came, and went limp, sighed heavily, and collapsed against my chest. Holding her close, I left my cock inside her as it went soft with great satisfaction, and I kissed her tenderly.

After a few moments, I looked around the theatre, almost expecting an audience to be applauding our "performance". But the house was just as empty and silent as when we arrived, and we just sat and held each other for awhile longer.

Taking our time getting dressed, exchanging kisses and embraces as we did so, we took a short break for coffee and soft drinks, and rehearsed the rest of our scenes.

We both agreed later that what happened was out of the blue, and that it was probably fueled by the passion that our characters had for each other. Who knows what might happen after the run of the show? It could be the start of many wild times together, or we might find that we don't have the same chemistry off-stage. Either way, we'll live with it, and remain friends.

I just hope that when we perform the play in front of an audience, we don't forget that we're just acting again! Of course, we'd be guaranteed a standing ovation.



Thespian Love



My first insight into things beneath the surface came when, having noticed that Nigel was never present at the private sessions I had with Nerina, I wondered why.

Most of the husbands among the villagers, for a start, would have been highly incensed that some other man was kissing and cuddling his wife, even if it was only acting; but that he knowingly let it happen not only in his absence but even in his presence was to me incredible, especially if it involved a wife as attractive as Nerina. My curiosity about this got the better of me one day when Nerina and I were alone.

"Nerina, doesn't Nigel mind us being together like this?"

She gave a short laugh, shrugged her shoulders and said ambiguously, "It probably suits him."

I couldn't understand how or why it "suited" him, but I took Nerina's word for it.

It was after that I noticed that Nigel paid particular attention to Brenda and the other younger women in the cast, and whether younger or older all the women, including Props, whose name I can never remember, seemed to adore Nigel and hang on his every word. At the same time, there appeared to be a distance or remoteness between Nigel and Nerina. 

As for the other men, they were never actually nasty to me, but they kept their distance and focused a lot of attention on Nerina, often making what I thought were suggestive remarks to her. In fact there seemed to be a lot of flirtatious behaviour all round.

Having lost whatever hopes I'd had with Brenda I did a bit of flirting on my own behalf with Props, but since she was a Big Wig's daughter, and obviously enamoured with Nigel, I got the cold shoulder very quickly. 

Finally I had to conclude that the one person in the group that genuinely liked me was Nerina. She insisted we continued our private rehearsals right up until the week before opening night. By that time my feelings for Nerida had gone beyond liking to a sort of love, if having severe pangs of sexual desire for her can be so classified. 

When it came to our love scenes, these grew increasingly fervent and when she kissed me during our last private session she nearly blew the top of my head off. She parted her lips and almost forcing my mouth open she thrust in her tongue. At the same time she began to make a rotating movement with her hips. 

When she stopped she laughed softly and said, "There, now you know what a really passionate embrace is like." 

Apart from what I am sure you will understand were the obvious physical effects of these scorching few moments, it made my stomach rumble embarrassingly. The village boy was learning some lessons fast.

In the last week we had moved into the church hall for the final rehearsals. It was here that I managed to attain something like hero status with the group.

The stage was lit by one ordinary light bulb; there was no other lighting to enable the actors to move in anything other than a sort of twilight. Now my acquired skills as an electrician came into there own. 

Working in what spare time I had I made up a few flood lights from used tins plus a control board. Of necessity there were strict limits on how many of these lights could be used since anything more would have blown the fuses.

I recruited the plumber's apprentice to come and work the simple on and off switches on the control board – no dimmers or fancy stuff – and for once I even won Nigel's approval. Now at least the actors would be seen in something above a perpetual eventide. I got an extra reward from Nerina in the shape of one of her special clinches, right in front of the company, and not while we were rehearsing. 

I have said little about the effect Nerina was having on me. Apart from gratitude for all her kindness and help, and the somewhat stirring and confusing sexual feelings her teaching had aroused in me, I had begun to feel a genuine love and admiration for her.

I have learnt since those days that this is one of the dangers involved in play acting; you can begin to confuse what happens on stage with real life. I had begun to fantasise about Nerina – to dream about her – to fancy myself in love with her. Along with this I felt the futility of this love for reasons I have already given, and had no thought that my love was returned by Nerina. 

She had been teaching me about acting love on stage, that was all, and at times I wished I'd neve been involved with the Thespians. I had lost my chances with Brenda, and had been given a hopeless vision of what might be if only the situation had been different – if only I was another Nigel.

I suppose this is what my father meant when he talked of the dangers of "Getting above your station in life."

However, I had held on and now the opening night was approaching. To Nigel's despair some of the other actors were still struggling with their lines, and in fact Nerina and I were the only ones who were word and moves perfect, no doubt thanks to all those extra private rehearsals we had undertaken.

On the opening night nerves were stretched to breaking point and beyond with one of the actors loudly wailing that he couldn't go on. He was finally got on stage by main force applied by the stage manager and Nigel.

Awaiting my first entrance I stood paralysed with fear and when I did go on it was by a sort automatic reflex action. Once on I was encouraged by cheers from some of the village boys. At the time I didn't realise that they were more derisory than approving; once started I found I was flowing along quite nicely and actually started to enjoy myself when the laughs came.

Most of the actors managed to get through the play with only a few stumbles and prompts from Props who had taken on that task as well. The plumber's apprentice only made a couple of mistakes, plunging the stage into darkness at the wrong time. 

At the beginning of the second act the stage curtain got stuck halfway and despite repeated attempts to move it, in the end we had to wait while the stage manager climbed a step ladder and oiled the curtain track. The audience cheered wildly at this addition to the evening's entertainment.

During the third act I had to wear a morning coat. This had been borrowed and it was about four sizes too small for me, exposing a liberal slice of arm, and the trousers came half way up my calves. It felt as if I was tied up in a straight jacket and one of the coat seams split while I was engaged in a passionate embrace with Nerina.

Nerina turned on one of her super-special kisses that seemed to go on for ever, much to the delight of the audience who whistled and howled their approval.

At the end of the play we lined up on the stage bowing and smiling at the audience as they applauded and cheered. They started to yell for the stage manager who had to come on to be cheered all over again for his oilcan appearance.

The vicar made a speech about how the play had shown us all the true meaning of marriage and its sanctity, and that there were a few people around the village who could learn some lessons from our performance. He was booed and hissed, but he didn't seem to mind because I think he was used to that sort of reception.

Then after the curtain closed – without jamming – the actors all hugged and kissed each other and all the nasty remarks they'd made and the arguments they'd had during rehearsals were forgotten – well, for a while anyway, and everybody was calling each other "dear" and "darling."

Then it was off to the Price-Evans house for the after the opening night party it was in fact both the opening a closing night since there was only to be one performance. There was a mountain of food and the available drink included wine. I had never tasted this beverage and after an experimental glass or two I decided that I quite liked it.

Some dance music records were put on the radiogram and everybody started to shuffle around. I'd learned to dance at the village hops and found myself constantly whirling Nerina around. She clung closer to me than any of the village girls had ever done, and she kept whispering in my ear about how well I danced. This got me all stirred up.

I'd had quite a few glasses of wine and was feeling somewhat serene, and then I noticed people seemed to be drifting off somewhere. I thought it must be time to go and I was in the midst of saying goodnight to Nerina when she said, "Don't go yet Trevor, I've got something to ask you, help me to clear up a bit and then I'll tell you."

There seemed to be no one else to help so I agreed, curious to know what she had to say. The place was a hell of a mess but we managed to get the worst of it cleared away. Nerina said she could finish in the morning, and putting on another dance record she said, "Dance with me again, Trevor."

It was while we dance, she clinging closer than ever, that she began to do her asking.

"Have you enjoyed the play?"

I explained that I hadn't at first, but because she'd been so helpful I had in the end.

"You like me, don't you Trevor?"

Emboldened by the wine and her closeness I said, "Yes, I think you're lovely."

"Even though I've been cruel to you?"

"Cruel?"

She laughed and said, "I worked so hard to try and get you to make a move, so now I've got to make it. You've never been with a woman, have you?"

"I-I-I've been out with some girls."

"No, I mean really been with a woman, you know...intimately..."

I got her drift and stuttered, "N-n-no."

"Would you like to, with me?"

"But you're married and..."

"Would you like to, Trevor? Oh, that was a silly question, I know you'd like to I can feel you want to, but then, I've felt you a lot of times when you've wanted me, so why don't we sit on the couch for a while."

"But someone might come..."

"No they won't."

"Nigel might..."

"He's busy."

We, or it least I, sat on the couch. Nerina remained standing, and to my amazement she took off her knickers. I can see them in my mind's eye now; silky and lilac coloured they were; I believe they called them "French Knickers."

That done she calmly began to undo the buttons of my flies and taking out my poor throbbing penis. 

"I'm going to make you feel better, darling," she said, "So lie down and let me help you."

She pulled up her skirt and sat straddling me still talking, "I didn't mean to be cruel because I thought you'd do something, so it's your own fault you silly boy that we haven't done this before."

I felt something warm and wetly soft start to enclose my penis. Of course, I knew what it was but had never realised how beautiful it would be. She slid slowly down my length and when she had all of me in her asked, "Is that nice, darling, do you like it?"

"My God yes," I gasped, and despite my heated state and slight inebriation I remembered the possible consequences of what we were doing.

"Nerina, I might make you pregnant if I..."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she said, smiling down at me, "Just let it all go, I want you to."

With that she started to ride up and own on me, slowly at first, then more quickly. She went on talking saying, "Oh Trevor, you don't know how much I've wanted you, you've been cruel to me a well and...oh...my God...Trevor darling...oh...oh...eeeow..."

She was beating up and down on me wildly, and at her loud cry I came, taking her word for it that it was okay. I think I panted, "Nerina...Nerina...I love you...," and felt a wonderful relief as I emptied myself into her. 

Long after I stopped pumping into her she stayed sitting across me saying, "I do love you Trevor...I do love you..."

I think I was in a near dream state, hardly able to believe what had happened; my first time with a woman, and with lovely Nerina.

When she had recovered slightly but while still sitting across me, she said, "Come and see me tomorrow afternoon, I want to talk to you about the next play." 

"Next play?" I asked, amazed that she should be thinking about another play at such a moment.

"Yes, darling, the next play, I'd like you to be in it."

"Well...I...er...Nigel may not want..."

"Never mind about what he wants, I want you."

She removed herself from me saying, "You'd better go now, but tomorrow afternoon at two, and we can talk about lots of things."

She kissed me goodbye and that started me off again, but she said, "No, not now, darling."

On the way home I began to wonder if it had really happened or if I'd been dreaming. Later that night, deciding it had been real, I started to realise the enormity of what had happened – if Nigel found out? If word got round the village? If my parents found out? I could hear my father's voice, "This is what comes of getting above yours station in life and play acting."

The next day being Sunday I went to church in the morning. It was my turn to read from the bible and one of the passages railed against the adulterer and the drunkard, among a whole list of other transgressions. 

The vicar chose to preach on this passage and we were treated to half an hour of listening to the evils of which we were guilty. I sat cringing in the pew as he told us of the punishments awaiting the adulterer. Afterwards outside the church, I overheard one of the men say, "I didn't realise I'd been having so much fun."

Nerina had also been in at the service and as she left she looked at me and winked, but said nothing. I had heard that people, after a few drinks, did things they afterwards regretted and had wondered if Nerina was suffering from remorse. Her wink gave me some reassurance that all was well.

The question of the next play was not touched upon immediately after I arrived at her house. Instead I found myself clutched to Nerina's bosom as she kissed me. 

"God I need you," she panted, "we should have made it one o'clock instead of two. I've got some things to teach you."

She hauled me off into a bedroom and without a pause started to strip herself. I stood mesmerised by this performance not knowing what to do. I had never seen a naked woman before and what was revealed once Nerina had removed all her clothing left me breathless.

"Come on Trevor, get your clothes off, we're going to do it properly."

I still stood staring at her entranced by her breasts and the little tuft of hair just above the crease at the top of her legs.

Nerina laugh softly and said, "Of course, you've never seen a naked woman before, have you? Do you like me?"

"Y-y-you're beautiful," I replied, feeling as if there was something stuck in my throat.

She smiled and said, "Good, now let me help you get undressed and then we can get onto the bed."

She started to undress me and between us we managed to get my clothes off.

Details of what happened that afternoon I will not relate; let it be sufficient to say that the village boy began to serve another sort of apprenticeship even more electrifying than my other one.

Towards the end of that afternoon the next play was discussed and I was delighted to learn that I was again to be partnered in love scenes with Nerina. Rehearsals for the play were begun, but it was never performed by the St. Monica's Thespians; other things intervened.

The first event concerned Nigel and Props. If I had to guess who Nigel was most likely to run off with I would have picked Brenda, and indeed, she seemed more furious than anyone except Props' parents when Props and Nigel departed the village scene together.

My father, of course, had his little comment to make; "No good will come of it, it's like a heifer running away with a boar."

This event was, however, as nothing compared to the next scandalous event. 

When Brenda showed all the signs of having – to use a local colloquialism – "One up the spout," close enquiries were made by her parents. I gathered that after some tortuous inquisitions the daddy of the future event turned out to be the vicar.

Neither the vicar's wife nor the ecclesiastical authorities were amused, but the coarser denizens of the village found the situation hilarious, while others pretended to be scandalised, but I suspect were in fact highly gratified at the downfall of their fiercely moralistic mentor. 

Once all was revealed the vicar departed the village scene to be followed soon after by the now blooming Brenda. 

It may be ungentle-manly to say so, but before she left Brenda made an effort to restore friendly relations with me, proving to be far more ardent than she had been even at the height of our less than frenzied previous encounters. Aware that she was seeking a permanent if substitute father for her coming offspring, I declined to get involved. In any case I had my own entanglements elsewhere.

A couple of years after I had left the village a letter from my parents told something of the Brenda/vicar outcome.

Brenda went in search of her unfrocked lover and found him. In the meantime the late vicar had undertaken some studies that led to him becoming some sort of counsellor or social worker employed by what was then known as the "The Marriage Guidance Council." He and Brenda entered into a state of marital bliss that last for about twelve months, at which point Brenda left him and had been unheard of since. Meantime one had to agree that the erstwhile vicar was well qualified to engage in counselling people having marriage problems.

With Nigel, Brenda and Props vanished from the theatrical scene work on the play staggered to a halt, never to be revived – at least, not in my remaining time in the village. The St. Monica's Thespians shrivelled and died, Nerina and I did not. 

I was in a dilemma over Nerina. She showed no signs of unhappiness at Nigel's desertion of her; if anything she seemed glad. Our relationship outlasted the Thespians and delightful though our bedtime frolics were, I wondered at times if she was just playing some sort of Big Wig game with me. 

The village being what it was rumour soon spread, and this was expressed cogently by my father when he asked, "Is there something going on between you and that Price-Evans woman?"

I replied that we were just good friends and he came back with his oft repeated phrase, "No good will come of it," then added, "Friendship between the likes of us and our betters always ends in tears."

It might well have done if it had not been for Nerina. I was in love with her – absolutely besotted – but never sure how she really felt about me, despite her declarations of love. This went on until two events intervened to bring matter to a head.

First, I finished my apprenticeship, and my boss announced that there wasn't room in the village for two electricians. Thus I was faced with the need to leave the village and seek my fortune elsewhere in the predatory world beyond.

The second event was announced by Nerina in roughly the following terms:

An impatient sigh and then, "Trevor, I always seem to have to take the lead. I know you love me and you should know I love you, so why haven't you asked me if we can get married once my divorce from Nigel is through?""

I tried to explain how I saw the great gulf between us but she got even more impatient.

"After all that's gone on between us you still think there's a barrier between us? Really Trevor, you're being ridiculous. Anyway, something has happened that you can't get out of."

"Oh...er...what's that?" I asked nervously, having for some reason visions of policemen and courtrooms.

"You're going to be a father."

Staggered by this revelation I protested, "But you always said it was all right if I...you know...let it all go."

"Yes, but I didn't say I couldn't get pregnant, did I?"

I had to agree, she hadn't said so, but I assumed that she couldn't.

She went on, "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Do?" I replied, more than a little confused, "I won't even have a job after next Friday and I'd been planning to leave the village."

"And me; is that how much you think of me?"




Thespian Love



"No...no...but what could I do...what can I do, I haven't got any money and...?"

"Is that all."

"All! I'd need money if you and me...if we were to..."

"Do you think Nigel had money?"

"Well, yes...I mean...you're Big...er..."

"Big Wigs," yes, I know what the village people call us. You'd better know this; Nigel has no money and hasn't even got a profession or even a trade like you."

"Then how...?"

The how went something like this: Nerina had been in the ATS (the women's branch of the army) stationed on an anti-aircraft gun site during the war. Nigel was a captain on the gun site, charming, good-looking and commanding. At eighteen Nerina had been mightily impressed and Nigel had been infatuated. 

He had also been smitten by a number of other girls as well, but on learning that "daddy is well off you known," his interest quickly turned into an undying love and they married. By war's end Nigel had risen to the rank of major and on being demobilised he was faced with the fact that he had little to offer an employer. Nerina ended up being the money provider; they moved to St. Mons, and Nigel, fancying himself as a theatrical producer, it was he in cahoots with a couple of other Big Wigs who got the Thespians started.

Apart from a lot of detail, that was the main thrust of Nerina's story, except that not long after their marriage Nigel began to take an interest in other women again.

When Nerina ended her recital she asked, "What are you going to do about me?"

Miserably I confessed I didn't know.

"Really Trevor, you can be exasperating at times; will I always have to tell you what you're going to do?"

"No, but I just don't..." 

"All right...all right darling, I'll tell you what we'll do. "We'll go to my flat in London and..."

"Flat in London?"

"Please don't interrupt darling. We'll go there and you can get some work...I'm not going to keep another man and I'll still have to explain to daddy about Nigel and the baby...and you. He's been very kind and continued to make me an allowance but..."

"Nerina, I could never earn enough money to (I almost said 'keep you in the style to which you are accustomed,' but I just managed to avoid it) support you and a baby; I mean, you're used to..."

"Yes...yes, Trevor, I know. I've still got the money mummy left me and..." 

"Your mother's dead?"

"Killed in nineteen forty one during the bombing. Now this is what we do..."

"I'm not taking money from you."

"Oh do stop raising objections Trevor; you do love me don't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then that's all right. Now, I think you might be interested in working in theatre or television – television is going to be really big you know – and with some..."

"I don't want to be an actor."

"Trevor, if you don't stop interrupting I shall get very cross. Now as I was saying, with some training you could do something in stage or television lighting and if..."

"But it would cost money to..."

"Trevor," she said menacingly, "women in my condition aren't supposed to be upset."

"I don't mean to..."

"Then let me finish. Now, we move to my flat in London. Daddy might be able to get you started in lighting and..."

I opened my mouth and shut it again quickly when I got a threatening look.

"You'll have to start at the bottom but if you're as bright as I think you are who knows what you might be able to do."

It seemed safe to speak so I asked, "Your father can get me a job in..."

"Yes; he's a set designer actually – quite famous – and if he knows that I really do love you and he's sure you're serious about me, then I'm sure he'll help. "You are serious, aren't you?" she asked anxiously.

I've often thought since how odd it was that all the time I had worried that Nerina was playing some sort of game with me, and at the same time she was worried that I wasn't serious. 

I told her as sincerely as I knew how that I was serious, and added that I really did want to support her and the baby. 

"That's all right then," she said, "now come and kiss me and ask me nicely to marry you, and after I've said 'yes' we can go to bed for a while, but then you'll need to tell you're parents." She looked at me curiously for a moment then asked, "What's the matter, you've gone quite pale, don't you want to go to bed with me?"

"It's not that," I moaned, "it's telling my parents about us."

"Is that all? I'll come with you and we can tell them together."

That was too much for me, and gathering up my manly valour I said, "No, I must do this alone." 

Later that day and bolstered by my loving encounter with Nerina, I fronted my parents.

Somewhat ham fistedly I waded straight in. "Nerina is going to have a baby and we're going to get married."

Father's mouth gaped open and mother's eyes grew as big as saucers. Most parents in the village took as a given that most marriages did not take place without a prior pregnancy. It was amazing how many premature births took place among us.

Mother, quieter and more philosophical that my father was the first to recover the power of speech and said, "Well, I'm glad you're going to do the right thing by the girl, just like your father..."

"Mavis," growled my father.

"Well anyway," mother continued, "I'm sure you'll make...who's Nerina, I don't know any girls called..."

"He's talking about that Price-Evans woman," my father roared. "I knew it...I bloody well knew it...that major fellow has buggered off with that young trollop and now that woman has played around with our boy. They're all the same those Big Wigs, making sport with the likes of us. I knew no good would come of that play acting; it's made you think above your station in life; she'll bring ruin on us all; we'll be the laughing stock of the village."

To my surprise I felt quite calm as I cut across the flow of his tirade; "Father, don't talk about Nerina like that, she's..." 

"I know what she is," he snarled, "she's one of those hussies who come down here and take advantage of young lads like you, I know all about them."

"How do you know all about them?" my mother asked sharply. 

Father was stopped in his vocal tracks; he spluttered and choked for a minute before going on in less ferocious vein.

"Well...well...I read about their carryings on in the Sunday newspaper. Anyway, I've a good mind to go and give her a piece of my mind, the brazen..."

"Shut up dad," I snapped.

It was a bit like when I'd turned on Nigel. I heard mother's intake of breath and there as a sudden silence. None of the family had ever spoken to dad like that before.

The dad went on, but this time mumbling, "No good will come of it, mark my words; it'll all end in tears, you'll see."

Mother rallied and in her philosophical manner said, "Ernie, perhaps we ought to give her a chance. I've met her and she seems quite nice and very pretty and if she's..."

"Where have you met her?" father scowled.

"In the grocers shop and the butcher's," mother replied with a hint of triumph in her voice. "And if Trevor loves her and she loves..."

"The likes of her don't know the meaning of the word love," he snarled, "all they think about is..."

"No she doesn't," I said. "I think if you knew her you'd soon see how ni..."

"We don't want to meet the likes of her."

"I do," said mother mildly. "Trevor, ask her to come to tea next Sunday afternoon, and Ernie, if you don't want to meet her you can go out for the afternoon, but I want to get to know my future daughter."

Well, you know how it goes. Father knew he was beaten and since Nerina really is nice, even if a bit bossy at times; but as she says, "It's for your own good." He calmed down and actually got to like her. Mother was half won over anyway and even though she didn't like us moving away from the village we always make sure she sees the grandchildren quite often.

After doing a lot of menial jobs around theatre and some considerably hard work, I finally made it thanks to father, and I'm a fairly well known and respected stage and television lighting designer. 

As I said, we went back to the village quite often to show of the kids to my parents, but after they died we stopped going until quite recently. Then one day I got a yen to see the old place again.

We drove there intending to stay for a couple of days, but didn't even last one day.

A motor way now slices past the village which isn't a village any more. The old shops are gone and there's a supermarket instead. There are factories making car components and plastic bags, and several fast food places. Where there was once farms there is now a lot of public housing and the old pub has gone too, replaced by a mock Tudor monstrosity. 

As we drove away Nerina laid her head on my shoulder and said, "We saw the best of it, didn't we darling?"

I thought for a moment and then replied, "Perhaps, but I've had the best of it ever since."