A Costume Built for Two

Her gaze dropped to the wooden floor.

"Most of us don't," she admitted.

"You and Richard seem to have it."

The spotlight gaze returned to me. "Maybe. Time will tell."

I felt my temper kick in.

"Then where do you get off telling me what I should and shouldn't do? You have your life with Richard. Let me enjoy my time with Emma."

"I don't want to see you get hurt," she repeated. "I know you're strong and practical and mentally tough -- but I worry what a bad breakup would do to you."

"That's sweet of you -- but I think you should let me worry about that."

"Worry about what?" Emma asked from behind us.

"Nothing," Becca replied as Emma put her arm around my waist.

"Worry about how I'll cope when you dump me, as you inevitably will." I kissed the top of her head, but Emma frowned.

"Back off," she told Becca, her New York accent suddenly strong. A couple of heads turned at her tone, and I blushed at their speculative glances. "You have no right to say anything to James."

Becca's eyes narrowed as she framed her retort. The observational part of my brain enjoyed the scene enormously. Two girls were fighting over me! This had never happened before, and I could hardly believe it.

Director Dick loomed out of the darkness and grabbed Becca's hand.

"Enough," he said, teeth gritted and likely annoyed that the fight didn't revolve around him. "Let's get back to work."

He led Becca away, but she turned her head to stare at Emma and me. At her expression of anger and sadness, my pleasure abruptly departed.

"Hey you," Emma said.

I looked down, and her arm twined around my neck as she pulled me down in front of the entire company. Her soft lips met mine, and I forgot all about the fight.

"Come to my place after this. I'll cook us some dinner and..." She lifted an eyebrow.

"And what, teacher?"

"I'll check your homework."

Hours later, I leaned back on Emma's sofa and tried to imagine anyone luckier than me. As a senior, Emma had an apartment with no roommates, a full working kitchen and a view of the distant hills before nightfall.

I had arrived to the sharp, tangy smells of garlic and tomato sauce. Humidity from the simmering pot enfolded me like a damp blanket as I walked in, and I inhaled deeply after the dry, frigid air of the New England winter outside. With a quick kiss of welcome, Emma took my hand and led me to the bright kitchen, where fragrant ingredients littered the counter and several red dish towels lay here and there, ready to wipe up spills or grab a hot pot lid. In the living room, the Three Tenors sang Italian arias. I smiled as I took it all in.

"So homey, and it all smells fantastic. It's like the kitchen I always wished we had."

She beamed as she took in my reaction. "I'm Italian. I don't go in for stereotypes, but I do like to cook -- and eat. And make people happy."

I hugged her. "You make me very happy."

"That's the plan, man. Now, pull up a chair and I'll cook and we can chat."

Talking to Emma was a delight. Her agile mind, like Becca's, often spun into unexpected directions, but she always reeled it back in. Granted, math and physics didn't intersect much with the New York theatre scene, but her tales of actors she had met growing up and stories of her life in the city enthralled me.

Meanwhile, she diced and boiled and sautéed until the apartment smelled like an Italian restaurant. I wasn't sure what exactly it all was, only that my mouth ascended to heaven with the first tender bite.

I insisted on helping with the dishes, which led to some sudsy fun, but she refused to let herself play until the dishes were clean and back in the cabinets. As we hung our wet towels on the oven door, she shooed me to the living room while she padded to the hall.

"Go sit down. I'll join you in a minute."

I obeyed, taking in the colorful theatre posters that decorated her walls, the photos taken with various actors, a few black and whites of historic playhouses. No one could have had the slightest doubt what Emma planned to do with her life, or where she felt most comfortable. I closed my eyes and pictured my father's house in Maryland, with its stark white walls and beige furniture. After my mother died, he had never so much as put a drawing on the refrigerator, much less decorated the place we had moved after he had wrapped up her affairs. I saw him suddenly as a lonely, frightened little man, bewildered by the hand life had dealt him, and completely unprepared to play it.

With a start, I realized how much my semester of theatre work had changed me. I looked at the world in news ways, seeing people as characters and watching how they portrayed themselves to those around them, considering the effect of colors on others' perceptions, wondering what sort of props and ropes held it all up.

"Come join me," Emma called. Putting aside all thoughts of the past, I grinned and strode to my future.

After the riot of color in the rest of her flat, her bedroom took me by surprise. Its palette of greys, cream and lavenders made me feel cool and calm. I looked around, wondering where Emma had gone, when she walked in behind me, dressed in a simple black robe. As I looked at her, she untied the belt and shrugged. The black silk fluttered to the floor, leaving her in a dark red teddy. For a long moment, I stared as the silk shimmered with each breath, highlighting her full breasts and curved hips. Then she smiled and reached out for me. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly against me, unsure what to do.

My cock, however, had a definite idea of what it wanted to do, and Emma dimpled as she felt it stirring against her belly.

"Let's get you out of those clothes," she suggested, dropping her hands to the waistband of my jeans and undoing the button. The feel of her fingers in its immediate neighborhood made my cock jump to full attention, and she smiled fondly at the bulge under my briefs as my jeans fell to my ankles. With a deft tug, she sent my briefs to the floor as well.

It throbbed with each heartbeat as we both regarded it.

"Looks absolutely delicious," and she ran a single fingertip down its length. I shuddered, my skin prickling with goosebumps as Pavarotti sang in the background. "Like a cream-filled cannoli."

"Definitely cream filled. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I'll love it." She bent down, kissing the tip, and I nearly came right there. "Now get your shirt off and let's lie down."

"Yes, teacher." I pulled my shirt over my head and stood naked before her, a little anxious at her scrutiny, but mostly enjoying this intimacy.

"You're gorgeous, James," she said softly, tracing a light line down one bicep just as she had a minute ago on my cock. It felt exquisite.

"You're the gorgeous one," I answered, reaching out to touch her shiny mop of curls, then curving my hands to cradle her head.

She gave me a little shove and I grabbed her hand, pulling her down with me onto her cool, soft sheets. Giggling, she pushed me to the center of the bed and slid in next to me.

Wrapped in each other's arms, we kissed for a few minutes, getting the feel of each other's bodies and mouths, testing each other with lips and tongues and touch. My hand slid down her silky back and came to rest on her plush bottom. I kneaded the flesh there, exploring, claiming. She slid one leg up my thigh and wriggled closer. The soft friction of the fabric felt incredible on my dick and I rocked against her, lost in these new sensations.

She pulled her head back.

"Quick question?"

"I'll tell you anything! Troop movements, where the gold is buried, whatever you want to know!"

She giggled again, and reached down to fondle me.

"Are you a virgin?"

I gasped as her fingertip found the sweet spot below my tip and rubbed it gently.

"Yes. I thought you knew. And don't stop."

"Well, you won't be for much longer."

I kissed her. "That's my dearest dream."

"I love virgins. Always so thrilled and willing to do anything I want."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to pay attention. I want you to learn me."

She pushed me onto my back and wriggled up to straddle my face. Her pungent scent, unlike anything I had ever experienced, nearly overwhelmed me, and she tasted even better as I gave her a tentative lick, then another. I managed to bring a hand up to touch her as I worked her folds with my mouth and tongue. She moaned, grinding her pussy into my face as I struggled to keep up -- and breathe.

"Find my clit -- it's that little pearl near the front -- and make little curlicues around it with your tongue."

I complied, feeling it twitch with pleasure as my cock tightened even more.

"So good. Now, put your lips around it and suck, very gently."

I gave it my best kiss before applying the gentlest suction possible. A much louder moan rewarded me. I slid two fingers into her dripping pussy to anchor her, then increased the suction. I felt her muscles clench as more delectable juices covered my jaw, then heard something between a moan and a scream. Her pussy pulsed on my fingers, and I nearly exploded myself as my beautiful Emma came all over my face.

I lay still as she rubbed herself against my willing mouth, feeling her contractions, enjoying her whimpers of pleasure. Not bad for my first time, I thought smugly from my warm cocoon of pleasure and desire.

The cool air revived me when she climbed off and nestled beside me.

"Holy wow," she murmured. "You're hired."

After a minute or so, a hand wrapped itself around my cock and stroked me. I jumped, and she sat up.

"Are you ready?"

"I've never been so ready for anything in my life."

"Good."

She smiled lazily, and the next thing I knew, the tip of my cock was pressed against her slippery gateway. I closed my eyes so I could feel it all better, and felt a kiss on my lips as slick, wet heat pressed down all around me, enveloping me. I thrust upwards, wanting to embed completely in this new wonderland. She sat back up, and slid all the way down. I reached down to fondle her thighs as she rode me, then watched as my hands made their way to her full breasts. One finger, then another, slid under the silk to find skin equally soft, especially the delicate area around her nipples.

"I'm so turned on," I whispered.

"Me too."

"I want to make you come again -- but I may not last very long."

"We've got all night for all the orgasms we can handle."

The pressure on me increased as she rocked back and forth, then sat on me and made little circles with her hips. Suddenly, I had to fill her if it was the last thing I ever did. My balls tightened and I locked eyes with Emma.

"Oh God!"

"Come for me, baby. Fill me."

With each spurt, I thrust upwards, feeling her inner muscles rippling as she squeezed me. Something in my head exploded, like the birth of the universe, as I came and came and came.

I lay there for the longest time, Emma on top of me murmuring endearments. My cock shrank back to its normal size and slid out when she finally moved to lie beside me. I put my arm around her, hugging her to me, and feeling as spent and content as I ever had in my life.

"Was it what you expected?" she finally asked.

"Not at all," I replied, running my fingers through her hair. "It was so much more. So much better. I never imagined it would be like this." I turned to kiss the top of her head. "Thank you."

I felt, rather than heard, her chuckle. "My pleasure. Now, how long before you're ready again?"

**

At first, it felt weird to be someone's boyfriend. I was used to carving out my own schedule around the needs of my classes and theatre work. To be honest, it bothered me to find my former chunks of time to walk in the hills and just think whittled down to almost nothing. But Emma liked to have me around, and the sexual education she gave me more than made up for my lost hikes. Sensual massage, oral sex, unusual (to me, anyway) positions, even anal stimulation -- she liked it all, and made sure I knew how to give it to her.

By the time she triumphed in the spring one-acts -- and as she predicted, nobody noticed my good engineering -- I had progressed to the seminar level of instruction. The shy kid from Maryland had definitely left the building!

"If you focus like this in your classes, no wonder your professors like you!" she teased during a lengthy lesson on the finer points of oral sex.

I looked up at her from between her thighs and licked my lips as I surveyed the lush body before me. I never grew tired of kissing and caressing those curves. "My classes aren't quite this hands-on." I gave her clit a quick flick of my tongue, grinned at her gasp, and returned to my work, honing on the scent of her arousal and heat of her sweet and supple thighs.

During spring break, she took me to New York City, my first visit. Her connections supplied us with tickets to shows, invitations to parties and private tours of the city's iconic landmarks. Her mother demonstrated where Emma had gotten her talent for cooking, feeding me so much I had to waddle up to bed each night as her laughter followed me up the stairs.

Only one thing marred the week. At a meet and greet after a show, one of Emma's friends, a tiny woman with a malicious smirk, gave me a scathing once-over.

"So you're Emma's latest boy toy? Don't get too attached. Once school is over, she'll forget all about you. She always does."

"I don't see how that's any of your business," I managed to say.

She smiled as if I were a particularly dense six year old. "Oh, it isn't. I just wanted to warn you. I've seen the piles of bodies Emma's left behind. It's so sad how they all think they'll be the one to break the chain."

"Thanks for your concern," I replied, my tone frosty. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can, slugger." With an unpleasant laugh, she moved away.

Later that night, with Emma sleeping beside me, I thought about it all. I liked Emma very much, and loved our physical relationship, and knew I'd be sorry when it all ended. She had given me confidence in myself as a lover and an unforgettable first romance. But a small part of me looked forward to having my life back.

I relaxed, kissed the top of her head, and drifted off to sleep.

**

Exactly as everyone had predicted, Emma dumped me at the end of the semester. I had a busy but lonely summer working construction once again, and wondered if I really wanted to go back.

In the end, of course, I did. For Becca.

**

I arrived at school curious to see what awaited me. Passing Emma's old apartment gave my heart a sad twinge, but the prospect of seeing Becca again filled me with joy. I had gotten a few texts from her over the summer, but she seemed busy and I didn't press her. But a week ago, she had sent a sad emoji with a brief message: "Richard and I broke up. Don't ask."

She was waiting for me at my room. I dropped my bags and enveloped her in a giant hug as she laughed with delight and kissed my cheek.

"You look buffer than ever! Look at those arms!"

I didn't like the shadows around her eyes -- clearly, the breakup had hurt her -- so I flexed, just to make her smile again.

"Well, you probably heard about Hurricane Holly. Came right up the Chesapeake Bay and flattened a lot of houses not far from where I live. We worked overtime all through July and August to rebuild them -- or build nicer ones. I made a ton of money."

"That's great. I mean, not for the people who lost their homes, but for you." She trailed off, confused.

"I know what you mean. It seems wrong to profit from a disaster, but my boss used to say that bad things are going to happen, and it was good that victims had people like us to help them get back to their lives."

"I like that!"

"His wife was a counselor. I think he got that from her. He wasn't exactly the insightful type."

By now, we had stepped into my tiny single. She sat on the bed and watched me unpack my two duffel bags.

"You're different from this time last year," she remarked, studying me.

I snorted. "I hope so! Last year, I was a scared kid. This year -- I'm not."

She nodded. "I was scared too."

"You fooled me. I'll never forget that first time I saw you, strolling through the scrum, cool as a queen."

"I was shaking inside, worried no one would like me and I'd have to depend on Richard all year."

I stopped unpacking to meet her gaze.

"Nobody would have guessed." I paused. "The breakup really threw you, huh?"

Her own gaze dropped. "Yeah. I didn't see it coming."

I sat down next to her. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Not really, but I will anyway."

"You don't have to."

"You're my friend. You deserve the truth." She pursed her lips, considered what to say. "Long story short, we were doing summer Shakespeare in New England and he cast this girl from Boston as Ophelia, and ... she became his leading lady. Just like me, the summer before."

"Oh. Well, that just sucks."

"Yeah. It never occurred to me that anything was going on, either! Not until I walked in on them in his hotel room. The idiot forgot I had a key."

"Oh, no." I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. My heart jumped as she leaned in to accept my comfort. "Well, you know I never liked him. He was an arrogant prick. He didn't deserve a goddess like you."

Her angular shoulders felt much different from Emma's soft ones, and I savored the sensation.

"No, he didn't. And that son of a bitch can go rot in hell."

"Absolutely." I stood up and resumed unpacking my things and putting them away. "Are you doing theatre again, then?"

"Of course. I was designing costumes when I was nine, for heaven's sake. No jerk's taking that away from me." She gave me a sharp look. "What about you? Will you do it again?"

I nodded. "It'll be awkward with everyone remembering Emma and me, but I feel like I want to do it. I like the work and I like the people."

She stood up and gave me a half hug.

"Excellent. Without Richard and Emma taking up our time, we can design some awesome costumes! I have a great idea for Halloween, if you want to do something together." She sounded unsure as she finished, so I hugged her back, noting how light she felt in my arms. "I'm in."

She smiled up at me and my heart lurched again.

"I knew I could count on you!"

She turned to go, but looked back as she reached the door. "Have dinner with me tonight?"

I smiled. "Of course."

**

Between classes and theatre and working a few hours a week as a volunteer student patrol, I didn't have much chance to discuss Halloween until October. Exasperated with the delay, Becca came to my room one Sunday night and planted herself on my bed as I finished up my English lit homework.

"Whatever it is you're doing, stop it," she demanded. "We have to talk about our costume."

"Yes, that's much more important than our grades."

She didn't catch the joke.

"Of course it is. This is our chance to show everybody what we can really do when we try."

"OK." I closed the book and gave her my full attention. "If it's important to you, it's important. What are we doing?"

She pulled out a sketch and passed it to me. An alien queen with a detachable abdomen/tail to be manned by a second person, probably me. I whistled, impressed with her ambition -- and her faith in my building skills.

"We could make the tip of the tail lash from side to side with a cable," she was saying as I rose to join her on the bed.

"We'd have to build flexible segments into it. I'm not sure we have the time or materials."

"We'll make time, and we'll scavenge what we need," she countered.

"Easy for you to say. This isn't exactly a simple little prop -- it's damn complicated." Even as I stared at her sketch, my mind worked furiously to figure out what sort of engineering the costume needed and how to deliver it.