Theatre de Amore : Opening Night

Theatre de Amore resides solely in the realm of fantasy. Everyone in this series is a consenting adult (18+ years of age). (Elements contained in this story include: voyeurism/exhibitionism, sensuality). This chapter is a bridge for Ch3, and contains sensual teasing rather than sex. In order to keep it together with Ch 1 & the upcoming Ch 3, it is being submitted under the Group Sex category (*subject to moderator change). Hopefully the reader will not find it disappointing. I promise Chapter 3 strictly belongs under the GS category.

*

Billy’s nervousness of Friday paled in comparison to his nervous anxiety on Saturday. I feared his ‘directing mode’ might inadvertently offend staff members, so I restricted access to the third floor, where he was focusing his energy, to only those directly involved in this evening’s stage play.

The success of our Friday night opening had raised the morale of the staff for Saturday evening. While the staff focused on preparing the Club for the evening, some of the club members who were staying over for the weekend went into the city. Others were holed up in their suites, some making use of the spa, and still others were in the lounges on the fourth floor. They seemed happy and relaxed. Mission accomplished.

As he did on Friday, Billy called me down to the basement offices where I found him waiting with his business partner and cousin, Leslie, and the first floor manager, Tom.

Billy kissed me enthusiastically in greeting, causing Leslie to snort softly and roll her eyes.

Leslie and Billy shared various financial and real estate investments, and she was a working partner in the Club. Leslie was in charge of The Other Side (TOS), the name we had given our annex. It was in a smaller converted warehouse, about fifty yards away, which could be accessed via a tunnel that had its entrance in our basement. I hadn’t been involved with the development of TOS. It was solely Leslie’s domain, and fit her personality perfectly.

TOS was the BDSM side of the Club.

Her staff didn’t mingle much the staff of the Club, though they were afforded the same privileges and could use the Club amenities. Most of them had regular jobs and lived offsite. Leslie’s girlfriend, Darla, was the manager of TOS, although it seemed like Leslie micromanaged Darla, and Darla told their staff what to do. Leslie didn’t associate much with her staff, except to give orders.

For the longest time, after becoming involved with Billy, I’d thought Leslie didn’t like me for some personal reason. Over time, I realized she was mean to everyone and wasn’t singling me out in particular. I found her a hard person to read, and one of the few people that I failed to understand well. Still, it was nice to learn that she despised everyone equally, with the exception of Billy. She despised him slightly less than everyone else.

As soon as Darla arrived, we all adjourned to Leslie’s office to start the meeting. Billy’s office was next door, and I had a smaller office of my own on the other side of Billy’s. I only used my office a few hours a week, preferring to do most of my work while stationed on the fifth floor, where I was more easily available to the staff. Billy and I had both developed our offices into something like a cozy den, while Leslie’s office décor was strictly business. She sat behind her desk and the four of us sat in chairs before her. It felt like I was back in school, having been summoned to the Matron’s office for some reason. Leslie had that air of strictness about her. When Billy and I sat in her office for any reason, we rarely touched.

Strict and business-like in appearance, with her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, the only hint that Leslie was involved in operating a sex club was her skin-tight, expensively tailored business pantsuit and spike heels. The blouse was low cut, and I caught both Tom and Darla covertly admiring the view of her cleavage. Billy told me Leslie had received breast implants for her eighteenth birthday, bringing her to a 36D that she was proud to display. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in anything but low-cut clothing. Not that there was a problem with that, it just seemed at odds with her strait-laced appearance. Like Billy, she had a streak of vanity when it came to her appearance. Her ultra-thin form contrasted with Darla’s more generous curves. They were almost exact opposites, in fact.

“Business was good last night at both ends of the Club,” she reported, reviewing the display on her desktop computer. She began with a rundown on the numbers for ‘the vanilla side’ of the Club. Billy opened his mouth to object to the slight, but Leslie continued speaking before he could interrupt. She followed up with a report on TOS, before turning her stern look on Darla, Tom, and myself, in turn, expecting a report on our respective sections. Billy fidgeted in his chair, less interested in business and more impatient to get to the third-floor theatre.

After I completed my update, she tossed her glasses on the desk, and leaned back in her chair, assessing us all with cool blue eyes. She appeared satisfied that we were prepared for the coming evening. Finally, she turned her gaze on Billy, who was bouncing his leg up and down rapidly.

“I suppose you and Orphan Annie here are raring to go finish prepping for your porno play this evening?” Leslie asked, her eyebrow raised imperiously.

I didn’t react to her derisive nickname for me; she had one for nearly everyone.

“I’ve asked you to stop calling her that,” Billy replied automatically. He didn’t bother correcting her comment about the theatre. Billy insisted Leslie had no creative soul, and that she failed to understand what he was trying to accomplish.

Admittedly, my initial response to Billy’s theatre idea had perhaps revealed my own lack of a creative soul.

“You want to do a live porn show?” I had asked, feeling amused.

“It’s not porn, Selena,” he’d replied passionately. “It’s theatre! It’s art! Yes, there’s a sexual element, but I am talking about blending the sensual with the theatre arts. You’ll see. Kindly do not call our work mere porn.”

I’d suppressed my smile and determined to never again use the word ‘porn’ to describe our theatrical pursuits. I truly did adore Billy, and I found his defense of this new venture was somehow very sweet.

Leslie ended the meeting, then went back to playing with her spreadsheets. Billy waited until we were out of her office, closing the door behind us, to take my hand and rush me toward the elevator.

Once the doors closed on us, he had pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

“Are you nervous about your debut?” he’d asked, smoothing a hand over my hair, tucking it back behind my ear. I could feel the tension in his body.

“I am, a bit. Not as nervous as you, I think.” I smiled, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“I’m the one with theatre experience, Selena,” he answered, somewhat petulantly. “How is it you always stay so calm while I turn into a nervous wreck?”

He’d remarked numerous times before that he envied my ability to stay calm, regardless of how I might be feeling on the inside. “How do you know it’ll be fine?”

“Because I know you,” I said, tightening my arms around his neck and kissing him, hard.

That had ended his fretting for the moment, and instilled a calm in him that lasted only until we’d gotten the theatre troupe assembled for our final rehearsal.

The plan was to complete our full-dress rehearsal, then disperse for the day to finish the evening preparations.

Rehearsals turned out to be remarkably professional, considering the nature of our performances. We didn’t actually do a full rehearsal of the sexual parts of the production. We would run through the scene’s blocking, but that was usually the extent of it. Billy preferred to leave the spontaneity of the moment to us, provided we followed the script in all other aspects. His one rule in that regard was that we were absolutely not to fake orgasms on stage.

Admittedly, during the first couple of rehearsals there was a lot of giggling, which settled down in time. I thought it was amusing that, even though I had been involved in at least half the job interviews of the cast, some of them were rather nervous about touching me in the first few rehearsals. Regardless of our chosen line of work (and pleasure), the cast was aware early on that Billy and I had a relationship, and their eyes would dart toward him during our mutual scenes to check his reaction. Once they realized Billy wasn’t going to fly into a jealous rage, they relaxed and began to include me in their teasing and flirtations.

“That’s just unnerving,” Johnny said to me, as we stood looking at the prop that had been delivered while Billy and I were in our basement meeting. He looked from me, to the life-sized statue, and back to me again.

The marble statue was on loan from a sculptor friend of Billy’s. It was central to the storyline and we’d been fortunate the artist had been willing to let us borrow it from his gallery for the time being. While we could have used any statue, even one made of papier-mache, this one worked brilliantly with the storyline because I had modeled for it some time ago. Billy’s plot called for the sculptor to bring the statue to life through his devotion. The resemblance to me was, naturally, remarkably accurate, and Billy insisted it would only enhance the imagery of the production. The cast reaction to its presence, however, was causing me to feel self-conscious.

“I’ve never known anyone who was also a statue. Are we going to keep this, and put it on display?” Johnny asked. His lips twitched, and I understood from his manner that he was teasing me. “Think about it, Selena. We could use her like a good luck charm. Or a mascot. Maybe we should rub her for luck.”

He reached down and stroked his fingers along the bare knee of the statue. She (or should that be I? It’s disconcerting, I thought to myself) was fully nude, though detail below the waist focused on the legs and feet, leaving the cleft between the legs smooth and androgynous.

“Stop molesting my statue, you perv,” I said hiding my discomfort under a playful tone.

“Ohhhh, Selena,” he moaned theatrically, moving his hand to the statue’s thigh while watching me with a grin.

“The painting’s here!” Billy announced.

I groaned quietly as I remembered he had also borrowed a painting done by another artist friend, using the same model. Me. I had the urge to cover my eyes with my hand.

“This. Is. Awesome,” Johnny said, delighting in my red-faced embarrassment.

Jenny approached, watching with parted lips as Billy had the painting hung on the wall on the left side of the set.

“I was really hoping for a fully-detailed nude, not just boobs” she said, laughter in her voice. She set her arm around my waist and leaned into me. I was relieved that Billy hadn’t used the portrait of me, purchased from the same artist, that hung in his bedroom at his apartment in the city.

“You two are the worst,” I replied.

“God, those breasts,” Johnny said, awestruck. He exhaled in a low whistle. His eyes slid toward me, then rested on the statue before moving to the painting again. I sensed his mind working over the comparison.

“You’ve both seen my breasts before,” I protested. “It’s just, um, art.”

“I don’t suppose someone’s also written a novel about you?” Jenny asked innocently. “I mean, you’ve already got your own playwright calling you his muse, your own statue, and your own painting. What’s missing?”

“A movie, maybe?” Johnny said. “Oh! I know, a song! She needs a song.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a bitch,” Jenny offered. “Otherwise it might be really easy to hate someone so perfect.”

She laughed up at me.

“I have to go check…something,” I said desperately. I fled to the backstage restroom to wash my face with cool water and attempt to take the red from it.

I examined my reflection in the mirror. For all that I would be performing in front of an untold number of eyes tonight, and naked during all of it no less, I had never had cause to feel so self-conscious until this moment. I’d never really had like-minded friends until now, aside from Billy. It was already well known among the staff that Billy spoiled me, though it was without any prompting on my part. He had, in fact, titled tonight’s play The Muse, his nickname for me. I considered why I found the situation so uncomfortable, and realized that I didn’t want the people I worked and lived among to begin thinking that I was intolerably vain or ruthlessly self-promoting. I didn’t want to lose their respect. Not only would it be personally disappointing, it would make managing the Club more difficult.

Suddenly, I had a jarring feeling that I should get back to rehearsal before Billy could tell the story behind the sculpting of the statue. Cheeks cooled, I returned to rehearsal and did my best to avoid looking at my art-oriented twins.

Johnny was on stage for the run-through of the opening scene. He was ‘sculpting’ the dummy set piece that represented the solid block of marble he was to transform into the finished statue. Johnny was to play the role of a sculptor, Anthony, who becomes obsessed after discovering a portrait said to represent the Thracian goddess, Kotys, the role I would be playing. Billy had an unbridled love of ancient stories and, until now, had not been able to make use of that in his theatre work. He had told me he was also working on a set of plays set in Ancient Greece, but those were still a work in progress. I found it amusing to note that his favorite goddesses, from all cultures, were usually the ones associated with love and sex.

I sat backstage, watching Johnny move through the first scene. This was where he would find the engraving and begin to develop his obsession, until he was inspired to start sculpting his own version of the goddess. At a critical point in the play, the statue would be wheeled off the stage and I would take its place.

“Okay, stop, stop, hold it right there for a minute,” Billy cut in, as Johnny and Jenny lay together on the floor at the foot of the statue. “Just…wait here while Richard and I work out the lighting. It’s not quite right,” he muttered as he passed me, headed toward Richard, who was running the lights.

“Oooooo, Johnny,” Jenny cooed seductively. “You know it’s just dress rehearsal. Your hard cock didn’t need to make an appearance yet. Save me some for tonight, sexy.”

“He’s just anticipating finally getting a piece of your fine ass, girl,” he shot back, and playfully nuzzled her neck with a low growl.

Jenny broke into giggles, and shifted under him.

Meanwhile, just above their heads, Richard and Billy worked on the red pulsing light that would travel up the leg of the statue, signifying the sexual energy of the couple imbuing life into it.

Rehearsal continued, without further interruption from Billy, until we reached the climactic (we hoped it would be one, literally) ending and were dismissed with a final pep talk from our director. The talk ended with an admonishment to save ourselves for the performance, and not to indulge before we were due on stage. There were a few frustrated, but good-natured, groans as we headed backstage to leave our costumes in place for the night’s performance.

“Ladies,” Johnny said smoothly as we came out of the dressing rooms and found him leaning his 6’2″ lean frame against the wall.

“Oh my god!” Jenny squealed. “Your dick is still hard?”

Her eyes locked onto his crotch.

He lifted his hands and shrugged, smirking and glancing down at the bulge in his pants.

Jenny bit her bottom lip gently, then glanced at me from under her lashes. She winked, then took two quick steps, brushing her breasts against Johnny’s arm and simultaneously dropping her hand to give his bulge a squeeze.

“You’re a lot of temptation, John-o,” she purred, her hand stroking firmly across the front of his pants.

His gaze went from warm to hot as he ran it over her lush curves.

Just as he reached for her, I tugged her arm and pulled her away.

“Ohhhh no,” I said firmly, “you’re coming with me.”

I linked my arm through Jenny’s, and we skipped lightly away from Johnny, leaving him looking longingly after us. Jenny and I both looked at him over our shoulders before we exited, then found ourselves looking at each other and laughing.

“His dick is always hard in rehearsals,” I reminded her. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“You’re the one who fucked him at his interview. Give me details!” Jenny begged, as we rode the elevator to our floor. I sighed happily at the memory, and she nudged me. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I said, trying not to smile.

“That dick-loving look you get. God, girl, you’re already pure sex walking, but when you get that look, you really get my pussy quivering.”

I burst out laughing, my eyes darting away from her inquiring face.

“Come on, Selena! Tell me about his job interview. No, just tell me about the cock. No, wait! I want to be surprised. Just tell me, can he really fuck?”

Jenny had tried several times to get me to gossip about various employees. It was a little game between us, with her always trying to get me to reveal something, and me trying to avoid saying too much. It’s not like she couldn’t find out for herself at some point anyway. There was no rule against fraternization at this Club.

“Do you think we’d hire him if he couldn’t?” I answered, grinning as the doors of the elevator opened on the fifth floor.

“Is it worth the wait?”

“Well worth the wait,” I assured her, feeling my own quiver of anticipation about revisiting Johnny’s skills during tonight’s performance. She wasn’t the only one he would be pleasuring on stage this evening.

“Let me paint your nails, you promised,” she said in an abrupt shift of subject.

While I was sure I hadn’t actually gone so far as to promise yesterday, I did feel a desire to continue basking in the easy camaraderie of her company a bit longer.

Heads together, smiling, we ducked into her room together and I spent the next hour getting my fingernails and toenails painted a nearly nude color while Jenny alternated between flirting with me, and peppering me with anecdotes about her experiences the night before. I had discovered I responded with two kinds of warmth in Jenny’s company. There was the warm glow of having another female near my age to do the expected ‘girlie’ things with: laugh, gossip, and primp. Then there was the slow heat of being the object of her flirtations and letting her lead me into sexual discussions. I liked them both equally.

“Tell me about your night after I last saw you,” Jenny said.

“I can tell you about Mr. and Mrs. Jones Number Eight,” I said, hearing my voice become husky with the memory of it. I relayed the details of running into them in the pub, connecting them with the pair of men from the other table, and the events I observed in their room. I told her about being invited to join them, and my offer to Mr. Jones VIII to become one of the audience participation members tonight.

“That’s so fucking hot!” She looked me over, interest sparking in her eyes. “You know, Selena, we don’t have a direct sex scene together. Does Billy’s rule about not getting fucked yet apply to the two of us hooking up?”

I laughed softly and, folding my legs, leaned away from Jenny just a fraction.

She grinned, knowing I was turned on by our talk so far, and also that I was uncertain.

“So you picked your first victim for the stage,” she said.

Part of Billy’s original idea was that a certain amount of direct audience participation would occur in the plays, along with the more indirect participation of the audience’s own responses. In this case, we would have Mr. Jones VIII seated among the actors in the third scene, and he would be part of the sexual content of the play. I looked forward to it. It added an element of the unexpected, as the people chosen had no script, and no rehearsals with the cast.