Anything Goes - Theatrical Capers

All the rooms were well appointed - light and airy with chairs, tables, illuminated mirrors, wash facilities, climate control and intercom systems, the individual rooms differing only in that they contained slightly nicer seats for extra comfort of the 'star' performers.

Both ends of the corridor led up a flight of stairs to the wings of the stage where I had worked the previous day. The left hand side was stocked with props of all descriptions carefully stored in neat rows ready for use in a set order. There were also ladders leading to the auditorium roof void as well as stairs to a mezzanine landing where the curtain and lighting pulley control equipment was operated from, I remembered being told this was known in theatre circles as part of the 'fly tower'. I could walk from ground level this side to the other side of the stage behind a heavy black curtain at the very back which masked stage crew from the audience during the performance and created a narrow passageway.

The right hand side was far less cluttered but contained a few props too - the packing cases from yesterday's impromptu "relief session" being amongst them. At the very front corner of this area was a high desk and chair bearing an engraved plaque declaring "Stage Manager" in heavy capitals facing the stage. Of all the people Stan had pointed so far out this individual hadn't been amongst them for some reason but I guessed that would be remedied sometime today. Atop this dais were a pair of small video monitors and I almost suffered a heart attack from shock when, for no apparent reason, both screens powered up.

The images that appeared were from the orchestra pit which would normally show the musical director I assumed and of the empty complete stage from a camera I'd noticed fitted to the front most auditorium lighting bar. I could also hear a faint hiss of static noise which I traced to a hanging headphone/microphone headset plugged into the theatre intercom system. Why had someone powered up the intercoms, more importantly WHO had powered them up and from where. Best guess would be the control booth and I wracked my brains to remember what Stan had told me about this system the night before.

If I remembered correctly each stagehand wore a wireless mobile set in contact with the stage manager, the MD could choose stage manager and/or control booth; the stage manager had access to crew, MD and booth plus dressing room intercoms. Both the sound and lighting engineers in the booth could pick from all of these channels plus the Front Of House manager who had their own wireless system for the ushers & ticket office as well as the follow spots, all via LCD touch pads next to their control desks. All of these were voice comms which were further enhanced by the monitors in the booth that showed the MD and stage views (same as the stage manager) plus views of the orchestra pit, stage manager, auditorium looking from the stage and several cameras in the foyer. So it had to be the booth but it didn't explain the images on the monitors unless they were wired into the same circuitry.

I could approach the control booth unobserved by using the access ladder on this side of the stage leading to the roof void and going over the top so wasting no time I shinned up and stealthily crept along the catwalk to drop lightly down onto the follow spot gantry - skills acquired during my delinquent teenage years had not deserted me. Lying flat on my front I slid forward and leaned myself over the edge to see what was going on.

To my surprise perched in the sound engineers seat was Brian but of even greater surprise was what he was doing. Not only had he powered up the comms system but up on the two biggest monitors he was watching video feeds from one of the dressing rooms downstairs with a set of headphones clamped over his head. Even though I was looking at the image from an odd angle it took only a few seconds to establish which dressing room - Genevieve's!

What puzzled me was how the images were being taken. One was at waist height with the door and intercom in the background so it must be a camera in the vicinity of the make-up mirror whilst the other was an aerial view from a corner on the opposite side of the room. Neither camera position felt as if they were a standard part of the system and made me wonder how many other dressing rooms were able to be spied on in this way and who else other than Brian knew about it.

I was distracted from this line of thought by the images on the monitors, even without sound it was impossible not to work out why Brian was doing what he was doing just as it was impossible not to watch the screens.

We were not alone in the theatre - the dressing room on screen was occupied or should I say fully occupied. Whilst I had been at stage level three more people in addition to Brian had entered the building and made their way straight to the room and been very busy.

The low-backed velvet upholstered seat had been placed in the centre of the room and currently bent over the back of it, legs spread wide with her hands supporting her on the padded arms was Genevieve, a Genevieve attired solely in a figure sculpting iridescent royal blue & black satin under bust corset.

The wide angle view from the mirror camera was incredible. Slap bang in the middle of the image was Genevieve, her large breasts were made to look enormous by the shaping of the corset combined with her semi-prone position. The corset provided enough support that the magnificent 36DD's were pushed forward as well as hanging down giving them an unbelievably pert shape and it cinched in her already tiny waist so her gorgeous broad hips and curvaceous arse flared out dramatically from beneath the intricate lace edging.

With her luxurious blonde curls cascading down over her face it was impossible to see from either angle if she was speaking but she was looking up at someone and I felt that she was in no way going to be a passive participant in whatever unfolded.

It was necessary to tear one's eyes away from the one screen to the other to get the full picture of what might be about to happen. There were two men in the dressing room along with Genevieve, the brothers which Stan had identified to me the previous evening as Gen's possible current amours - Malcolm and Grant - and they were standing one at either end of Genevieve just out of the range of the first camera. The fact that this second view was from an elevated position actually did a whole lot more to fill in the blanks. Both men were totally naked with haphazard piles of business clothing cast on the floor next to them - I hoped that modern suits didn't crease too easily - and were staring fixedly at Genevieve whilst both stroking burgeoning erections.

With the absence of sound it was impossible to grasp any of the more subtle nuances of what was going on but I got the feeling Gen was directing everything.

A few moments later both men closed in on Genevieve and by now they were both fully erect - I had to be honest with myself and say I did feel both a little bit insecure and envious as I'd always regarded myself as decently endowed but these guys were both hugely hung sporting thick cocks at least 8 inches long if not more which became only too apparent when they moved into the range of the mirror camera. Malcolm was at the head end and Grant at the rear of Genevieve - Grant paused momentarily to pick up a tube from the table, good old KY, rapidly applying a decent coating to his member and without any ceremony driving his prick straight into the waiting slit of Genevieve.

She threw back her head, I've no idea if she was calling out or in pleasure or discomfort but it gave Malcolm the opportunity to grab a handful of curls in each hand and drive his own rigid cock into the now open mouth of the woman in front of him. I could make out the brothers talking but to Genevieve or each other was impossible to guess, however there was a sudden change and both men synchronised their assault by withdrawing and re-entering in unison.

With Malcolm's hands full of hair controlling how much freedom of movement Genevieve had over her head whilst he fucked her face it fell to Grant to reach forward and under to attack the jiggling & swinging globes being wildly gyrated by the men's thrusting. I'd glimpsed a little of her aureole the morning previous when her robe slipped but in camera I realised they were really large and dark brown, almost as large as a saucer from a child's tea set. In fact every square inch of Genevieve's bare skin on show was tanned without a line or patch to be seen from any angle so the big brown circles were not out of place.

Grant took a firm grasp of each half inch long nipple and pulled down, there was a lot of force in that pull drawing the melons into elongated to cones almost twice their original length. I expected a look of agony on Gen's face but instead saw a look of pure ecstasy with eyes rolling back in her head. Another word or signal changed the brothers movements, Grant dramatically increasing the pace and force of his thrusting whilst Malcolm dropped his pace equally drastically but now pushed his rampant cock its entire length into Genevieve's mouth forcing her nose into his wild mass of black pubes, her chin against his huge wrinkled hairy ball sack and holding it there. Genevieve's cheeks were bulging dramatically but so was her throat and as the seconds crawled by both reddened as she struggled to breathe until Malcolm withdrew sharply and she visibly gasped for air.

It was a minuscule relief though as he drove home once more, holding for a fraction longer this time and longer still on each consecutive thrust, her head locked in place by the fingers entwining her hair in a vice like grip. After six or eight such thrusts Genevieve was now constantly flushed, long strings of glistening saliva pouring from her slack lips each time Malcolm's dripping cock freed her airway and her arms shaking, struggling to support her ravaged frame. Malcolm looked up at his brother and mouthed something indistinguishable as he withdrew once more and Grant relinquished his hold on Genevieve's breasts, pulled almost entirely out of her sopping snatch leaving just his bulbous purple helmet engaged between her swollen lips then hurled himself into her with a force that moved the chair beneath them whilst simultaneously plunging his thick index finger into her arsehole.

It was a good thing Malcolm was furiously jerking off with the one hand he had released from her hair and streaming semen all over her face at this moment as she would have probably bitten his dick off had he still been in her mouth because it was obvious even without sound Genevieve had climaxed and was flailing wildly, pinned to the chair by Grant who was wedged forcibly behind her, his hand crushed in place in Genevieve's most intimate orifice by the weight of his body. He didn't stay there long though and pulled out both appendages to jerk himself off and spray his own load over the tanned arse cheeks of Gen, glowing white strings of pearls on a canvas of golden skin.

Although I was both fascinated and immensely turned on by what I was watching I still had enough presence of mind to grab my phone and video Brian in the act of perving over the private goings on in the dressing room, an act I was certain the subjects were unaware of.

Brian was still facing away from me and his movements betrayed the fact he was feverishly wanking to the action on the screens. I was thankful of my odd position and restricted view because the last image I needed in my head ever was the cum face of a sweaty fifty-something fat balding bloke jerking off.

He stiffened suddenly for a few moments as he too climaxed but rapidly reached forward to withdraw something from the bottom of the comms control panel instantly cutting off the dressing room video feeds and returning views of the stage and orchestra pit. As my brain processed the final frozen tableau of a collapsed cum covered Genevieve and her spent lovers I suddenly realised what it was Brian had removed - it was a dongle - a USB plug-in piece of coded hardware and software that looked like a common memory stick but was designed to permit access to restricted systems or parts of systems only when a user had it plugged it. In my industry they were used to control software licensing as they rendered copied software unusable and worthless without one.

Somehow someone had arranged for secret cameras to be installed either alongside the intercom installation or afterwards, patched into the general system and rendered invisible & off-limits to anyone other than a dongle holder, in this case Brian. I could think of no one other than Brian who could have actually arranged that and he as most likely the only person who knew about it too.

I silently slipped back onto the platform out of sight and listened Brian doing whatever he needed to do to sort himself out, the muted clicks of equipment being turned off and finally the reassuring clunk of the booth door closing behind him when he left. I still waited more than five minutes before dropping down into the booth in case he'd forgotten something and returned, I did not want him to realise that there had been a witness to any of this morning's activities.

There was no way I could carry on with what I had planned to do with the lighting without drawing unwanted attention to my presence on site so I stealthily made my way to one of the side entrances and escaped, heading for the village cafe to regain any semblance of composure I may have begun the day with.

* * * * * * * * *

I sat in a window booth, blankly staring into the crowded village square, mechanically working my way through an otherwise superb full cooked English breakfast, my thoughts in turmoil. So much had happened in the last 48 hours, the vast majority of which was really positive. Even looking out of the window it was as if a hidden switch had been thrown within my head because all of a sudden many of the faces walking by now resolved into names and characters from the musical. I had become part of a performing society and in doing so had become a much more ingrained part of the vibrant community surrounding my new home.

My problem was the last 2 hours. I understood the open ethos of the people's personal interactions, I totally got the "what happens in..." form of discretion, almost like the first rule of Fight Club - I wasn't bothered by Genevieve and the guys, they were consenting adults engaging in an act that should have been private and between only them. It was Brian that was the problem!

The trouble was I couldn't pin down why I was so pissed at him - was my judgement clouded by my initial instant dislike when I met him?

Was it really so bad that he was a creepy stalker? Yes!

Would I have let this slide if it were someone else? Hell no!

Was I going to let it slide now? Again Hell no!

How was I going to progress it? Not a bloody clue.

I knew I couldn't tell Genevieve, Malcolm or Grant directly - they had known Brian too long, I was an outsider and unknown quantity, I would have to explain why I allowed it to go so far without intervening (they may think I was complicit or secretly enjoying it myself).

I couldn't make some anonymous disclosure to his bosses, that was a cowardly act I would not lower myself to, or confront him face to face since if I did what possible sanction or threat of sanction could I bring?

I had briefly reviewed the footage on my phone and knew that wouldn't be enough - it wasn't particularly in focus much of the time, didn't show the monitor images in any kind of discernible detail, had no sound and ended before Brian did so didn't show the dongle. If confronted he might simply claim he was responding to a reported fault on the intercom system - I wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

Proof was required, at barest minimum I had to show someone there was a secret dongle and what it allowed on the system. I reasoned that Brian wouldn't keep it on him at all times for fear of losing or misplacing it so it had to be in his office somewhere close at hand, easy to access but not obvious. Now I needed to get him out of the office for a couple of hours and that shouldn't be too tricky.

Finishing up I visited the mobile phone shop on the village square picking up a cheap pay-as-you-go handset and SIM. I then composed a text message to Brian posing as a possible substantial benefactor looking to invest a sizeable sum into the upkeep of the theatre and seeking a lunch meeting off site. It was a slim chance but paid off with Brian leaping at the opportunity and after a short exchange of texts the deed was done.

I returned to the theatre in time to see Brian driving off to his 'meeting' safe in the knowledge I now had a window of at least 2 hours before he was back as it would take that long for the drive if nothing else. Once inside the theatre I had to do a running check downstairs and up to ensure that I was still alone which I was.

Although my bunch of keys could access all the theatre doors and general areas it didn't have copies of the office keys, however this was hardly a Fort Knox security level building and Brian's door popped open in a few seconds using just a strategically placed credit card, old school larceny still worked now and again. Once inside I was taken by the almost sterile cleanliness and orderliness of the room - Brian may have had issues other than voyeurism - so a very careful and speedy search was undertaken ensuring everything returned exactly to its original place.

Just two sets of drawers were locked, a fireproof steel filing cabinet and Brian's desk. I felt the desk was too obvious so set about the filing cabinet. Although very sturdy it was an old model that I myself had owned once which I knew had one flaw - the key lifted and lowered a notched bar that secured the 4 drawers, a bar that protruded through the cabinet bottom casing into a small open void below. A rummage in the control booth cabinets produced two hefty screwdrivers - one to raise the cabinet an inch or so by levering it back and the other to manually drop the locking bar.

Bingo!!

I was in and riffling through the suspension files. Top drawer, invoices relating to the theatre running as well as supplier files for consumables. Second drawer, personnel files of retained theatre staff and volunteers as well as contact details, rotas and other associated admin. Third drawer, technical manuals for every system in the building from alarms to lights to climate control, from computers to the coffee machine. Last drawer, reams of files relating to theatre hire such as past and forthcoming events. Damn - I was sure this was my best bet and a quick glance at my watch showed I'd already taken a fair bit longer than anticipated too.

As I was preparing to reset the cabinet something made me revisit the third drawer. If all the technical manuals were here then only Brian would access it to hand them out as required, so where better then to keep the dongle. It wasn't openly in any of the folders but I pulled them all forwards and slid my hand into the rear of the drawer.

Blindly feeling around the tight confines I stumbled across something raised in the bottom back corner! It was clamped to the metal but with a bit of effort and skinned knuckles I retrieved it. I was looking at an old style magnetic spare car key box inside which nestled a blue & grey USB stick with a nondescript 12 digit number etched on the casing. This had to be it.

Pressed for time and taking a chance I removed the device, returned the box, reset the cabinet lock, did a careful visual check and bailed out straight back to the control room. On went the intercom system and I ran my fingertips under the control casing to locate the USB slot. I actually located a hinged port that dropped vertically for ease of insertion then tucked up placing the dongle snuggle against the unit and completely out of sight. In went the stick and nothing happened. Everything was as I had seen previously.