"Great, you're welcome to it. I've done my thing with the Mahkeenac Little Theater."
"I was surprised at how good the guys were on the read-through. There's some actual talent in that Little Theater."
"Who'd Tom cast?"
I rattled off the names of the five actors.
Jenn whistled. "That's a lot of ego on one stage."
"How well do you know them?" I was hoping for a few details on Tristan.
"Not well at all. I worked with Richard and Brian in Present Laughter but the other three I only met at after show parties."
"Tristan King?"
"Yeah, I met him. I think he was boinking the girl who played Joanna."
"Is he involved with her?"
"Far as I know he isn't involved with anyone. None of them are. These amateur theater types spend their summers 'playing' with each other, passing one another around like a bowl of popcorn. There's a cat fight once in a while, but otherwise it's a surprisingly amiable bunch."
"They seemed to know one another well."
"All of the guys, with the exception of Tom of course, work on Wall Street within a few blocks of each other. They're all richer than Croesus, but Tristan is the acknowledged 'king' of them all. Pun most definitely intended." She got up, yawned again and stretched. "I'm off to bed."
"Sleep well." I flicked off the TV and took my wine into my bedroom. I dropped my clothes on the floor and crawled into bed with a steamy book I'd started over the weekend. The hero was just about to return from a long absence and I was expecting a very hot reunion. I wasn't disappointed.
I put the book back on the night table and drained the last drops of wine from my glass. Then I reached into the drawer and brought out my trusty rabbit. A girl at Bennington had hosted a "Slumber Party" in our dorm and probably made a small fortune selling all of girls the latest 'toys'. I plunked down nearly a hundred dollars for my little bunny, but it was well worth it. Considering the state of my so-called love life it was an investment in my mental health.
I lay back against my pillow and adjusted the settings just the way I like them. The efficient little machine would have worked even if I had thought about doing laundry…it was that good. But this night I wasn't thinking about laundry at all.
Nope, I had Tristan King's face buried between my thighs and he was humming encouragement for me to let myself go. His eyes were fixed on mine as he worked his tongue across my clit, sucking and kneading it with his mouth. He had two perfectly groomed fingers inside my body and he was stroking the spot that no man has ever tried to find. I know where it is and so does my rabbit, but Tristan became the first actual man to seek it as I closed my eyes and surrendered to the vibrations and the fantasy.
My climax started intensely and crashed through my body. Tristan vanished in the selfish moment of orgasm where all that exists is sensation, pleasure and release. I caught my breath and let my heart slow down to normal rhythm. As I drifted off to sleep I reminded myself to make note of the color of his eyes. If I was going to imagine them gazing into mine, I'd better be able to fill in the details.
Two
I made sure to have a better dinner the next night. I didn't want my stomach grumbling at me halfway through the rehearsal. I was the first one at the theater. I unlocked the front doors, turned on the house lights and the stage lights. Tom had obviously been on the stage some time that day as it was now marked with the outline of the set that would soon be built. I went up on stage and walked the perimeter of the room that was nearly identical to the diagram in the back of the playbook.
I went back to the green room to put a pot of coffee on and fill the water pitcher with ice and fresh water. When I came back to the stage, Tristan was walking the set lines. The business suit was gone and he had a pair of white shorts and a melon colored shirt on. I could see the warm tan of summer on his long limbs and the sun streaks in his hair as he paced out the floor marks under the stage lights.
He had magnificent legs. They were masculine and defined but natural. Whatever he did to keep himself in such good shape, it didn't involve a lot of squats, thank God. He leaned down to pick his script off of the floor and I felt a little rush of heat watching his ass flex under the shorts. He turned around just as I was mentally peeling away his clothes--again.
The shadows of the stage concealed me as I watched him for several minutes. He opened up his script and began to read the major soliloquy the coach makes near the end of the play. Tom had surprised us all by deciding to rehearse the play in reverse. We'd start with Act 3 and work backwards. It was an unusual strategy that I would realize later was positively brilliant.
Tristan paced the floor as he called forth the character and voice of the coach. He wasn't projecting his voice as he would in a performance; he was simply reciting the speech naturally. If I closed my eyes I could see an old and bitter man. If I opened them I saw a wonderfully gifted man in a beautifully crafted package.
I could feel a flush working its way from the tops of my ears down my neck. My nipples tightened against my bra and I actually salivated watching him concentrate and move around the stage. Difficult as it was to accept, I was deep in the throes of an adolescent crush. I hardly knew the man. Tristan King was the sexiest man I had ever been near and he was turning me on just by being.
I began to feel the same kind of burn on my cheeks that I had gotten when my sister mercilessly teased me about being infatuated with a movie star when I was thirteen. I was irrational then and I felt the same way hiding in the shadows from a man who barely knew my name.
With heavy footsteps and a little 'ahem' as I rounded the edge of the stage left curtain, I announced my presence.
"Raina, I didn't know you were here." The smile he flashed immediately reminded me of where I had placed that mouth in my fantasy the night before and the thought threw me off.
"Oh, hi. Ummm. I was just getting…I mean I was starting the coffee. And the water. Well, not starting the water, just putting ice in…" I didn't think it was possible to sound more stupid then I did at that moment.
He had the good grace not to notice. "Would you mind running lines with me before everybody gets here?"
"Sure, I'd love to," I said a bit overenthusiastically. He went over to the edge of the stage and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge of the apron. I sat beside him and did the same.
"From the beginning of Act 3."
"Okay." I was amazed at the amount of dialog he had already committed to memory. He was nearly able to make it through the entire act without a prompt from me. I watched his mouth as he spoke the lines and got quite lost in the discovery that his eyes were an intricate hazel--shades of umber and olive mixed with a whole spectrum of woodsy browns.