Fill the Role

JOEL gripped his program as he watched the play. The actors playing Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode up to the inn, to ask if there was any room for weary travelers. Joel had seen Man Of La Mancha many, many times, and knew that this is the point in the story where Aldonza, the whore, enters. Now, it's not in the play script that "ALDONZA, in a leather bustier that pushes her really, really big breasts up to her chin — enters, and slops the bowl of food onto the table. Her jugs jump for several seconds after she does this." The stage directions say nothing of the kind. But since the role was originally played on Broadway by a very exotic-looking and very buxom opera singer named Joan Diener... and since a mediocre movie had been made of the musical in the seventies, with busty sex symbol Sophia Loren in the part... it was sort of a theatrical tradition. Just like the King of Siam has to be bald... Aldonza has to have big boobs.

Joel held his breath in anticipation. Sure, he liked seeing shows. But he liked seeing big boobs even more. He covered his crotch with his playbill, hoping that the actress playing Aldonza would make this action necessary.

And did she ever! Dark and sensual, and obviously of true Spanish heritage, an absolutely stunning actress strode onto the stage carrying a bowl of food for the mule drivers, as called for by the script. But this was no scullery maid. This Aldonza had long, jet-black hair, an enticing olive complexion, the usual laced-up leather bustier... and two very worthwhile reasons to wear that bustier. Two enormous breasts jostled and jounced almost in full view, rendering the actors playing the mule drivers absolutely mute. When she bent over to put the bowl down, they swayed and seemed to sweep the surface of the table. When she straightened up to speak scornfully to the men, her breasts seemed to be playing out their own choreography as the actress delivered her lines. Joel was sure she would be just splendid in the role... but he'd have a hard time concentrating on her acting and singing skills!

When he was able to tear his eyes away from the standout performances of both her breasts, Joel hurriedly turned his program to the cast list to find out this arousing creature's name.

ALDONZA — Katey Callaghan, it read.

Callaghan, thought Joel. Hardly sounds like a Spanish name. But he didn't dwell on that. He spent the rest of the considerable running time of the musical planning how he might meet the gorgeous and gargantuan Miss Callaghan.

Actually, it's easy to get backstage at a community theatre production. Everyone is friends with someone in the cast, and everyone loves to hear "Great show!" called out, with varying degrees of sincerity. All Joel had to do was tell the stage manager that he wanted to tell Miss Callaghan what a great Aldonza she was, and he was admitted to the room where the actors put on their makeup. The locker rooms where they put on their costumes were behind closed doors. Must maintain public decency, you know.

Joel stood there, not knowing anybody. Most of the actors kept their costumes on as they greeted their friends, to savor the experience. They laughed and soaked in all the good wishes. They promised to meet their friends later at bars or all-night restaurants. They changed out of their costumes and washed off their makeup. They grabbed their gym bags and headed off into the night, many nodding at Joel as if they knew him, even though they didn't.

Before long, the makeup room was empty. And Joel still hadn't caught a glimpse of the buxom Katey Callaghan.

The stage manager came in to roll the rack of costumes into a storage room.

"Excuse me," said Joel.

"Yes?" said the stage manager.

"Is Miss Callaghan around?"

"Aldonza? Yeah, I think so," he said. He called into the women's dressing room. "Hey, Katey! Friend of yours here for you!" He went back to his work.

"'kay, be right there," came a raspy squeak that didn't sound at all like the throaty and sensual alto voice Joel had heard on the stage.

The stage manager shuffled out, leaving Joel to grab a seat at one of the makeup mirrors.

In a moment, a young woman wearing black stretch pants, purple knit leggings, running shoes, and a baggy gray sweatshirt emerged from the locker room. She was combing out her close-cropped brownish hair. Her face was pleasant enough, with freckles and a sort of Irish-American coloring. The hand that wasn't combing dragged a duffel bag and... a peasant blouse, flouncy skirt, and a leather lace-up bustier on a hanger.

She peered at Joel quizzically. "Do I know you?" she asked, and draped the costume over a chair without waiting for an answer.

"No, I don't think so," Joel answered. "I was just waiting for Miss Callaghan."

"Well, you got her," said the young woman, still combing out her hair and holding a hair tie in her mouth. "What's up?"

Joel looked at his program. "Katey Callaghan. The girl who played Aldonza."

"Yeah," she repeated. "Me."

Joel sputtered. "But... but..."

Katey turned around as she tied her hair back and smiled. "I know. Where are they, right?" Without missing a beat, she lifted her sweatshirt to show Joel a pair of ordinary — actually, maybe a little less than ordinary — breasts in a plain white bra. "And the black hair, the full lips ... where are they? That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

"Um — I suppose that's it, yes," Joel admitted, still looking from Katey's face to the program, as though that might offer an answer.

Katey hauled her duffel bag over her shoulder. "C'mon. Take me out and I'll tell you about it."

Joel followed. They walked through the cold to a nearby all-night restaurant. They didn't even speak until they sat down.

"Okay!" Katey brightened once they were safe from the whipping wind. She opened the colorful menu and decided quickly on a patty melt sandwich and coffee. Joel just nodded dumbly and ordered the same. "You want to know why what you see here—" Katey motioned matter-of-factly toward her chest "—isn't what you saw there."

"Uh... yes," said Joel. "But I want to tell you, you were terrific in the part! Believable, beautiful—"

"And busty," added Katey with a smile.

"Right. How?"

"Before we go too far, I gotta know," Katey said between sips of coffee. "I do plays and musicals in community theatre all the time. Most guys who come to see them are gay. Are you?"

"No," muttered Joel. "Not that there's—"

" — anything wrong with it!" Katey laughed, finishing the Seinfeld catch phrase for him. "Just gotta know. Saves heartache later."

Joel was encouraged by Katey's audio footnote. Maybe he had a chance with her.

"I studied theatre in college," said Katey. "But I quit when my teachers talked about the low success rate... especially when they all said if there's anything else I could possibly be happy doing, I should do something else. Because the chances of not just success — but of even being able to make a living are really, really, really small."

Joel nodded.

"The professors were very disappointed," Katey continued, "because they said I was different from other actors. I had a special gift. One said I was like Agnes Moorehead."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Agnes Moorehead? The mother-in-law on Bewitched?"

"Yeah, Agnes Moorehead!" said Katey, amused at Joel's reaction. "One of my professors had worked on Broadway during the 1940s and 50s. He told me this story about working with Agnes Moorehead. She was supposed to play a beautiful woman in a play..."

Joel looked dubious.

"On the stage. It's different from movies," Katey went on. "This professor told me that Agnes Moorhead, who he said was... 'ugly as sin', I think, was the phrase he used — was able to transform herself into a beautiful woman up there on stage."

"With makeup? And costumes?" Joel asked.

"Nope. Just with — " she raised her hand in a theatrical flourish "—Acting!"

Joel repeated her gesture. "Acting?"

"Acting."

There was a silence. And then Joel started to snicker.

"You don't believe me!" Katey protested.

"Oh, come on! Agnes Moorehead?" said Joel.

"Listen, pal, it's possible. And I can do it, too," she snapped. "You saw me up there. There's no wig. There's no Light Egyptian Max Factor makeup. And there's no padding in that blouse. It's all — "

Joel finished the sentence, incredulously. "Acting?"

"Yeah, acting," said Katey, starting to get up. "You don't believe me, so I don't see any reason to waste my time with you!"

"No, please, Katey, sit back down," Joel jumped up. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I want you to stay."

Katey started to sit back down.

"That's it. Let's enjoy our food," coaxed Joel. "You have to admit — it is a little hard to believe."

Katey sat down. "Acting is believing. That's what they say. That was the name of one of the textbooks in college."

"An Actor Prepares... was that another?" Joel asked. "Is this the Stanislavsky method."

"Nah, it's the Callaghan method, I think," Katey answered. "Or maybe the Agnes Moorehead method. All I know is that for me, it works."

Joel held out his hand. "I'm very pleased to be having coffee with you, Miss Callaghan. I'm Joel Kaufman."

Katey extended her hand, too. "Thanks. Hey, I forgive you. I don't know if I would believe myself, either. It is pretty wild. Look — our food's here. So — what does Joel Kaufman do for a living?"

"I'll tell you only if you give me your phone number," Joel said.

"Sure, but don't expect Aldonza," Katey said, scribbling it on a napkin.

"Aw, not even once in a while?" Joel teased, pocketing the number.

"Nope. It's an art — not a party trick," Katey retorted, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Katey and Joel chatted... about the sorts of things men and women chat about when they first meet. Movies, the weather, political beliefs... and they found they had a great deal in common. So much that they made tentative plans to get together again. Still, Katey was pretty sure Joel was still staring at her chest — but not with lust. More with confusion... and a little bit of disappointment.

Three days later, Joel dialed Katey up at work. "Katey?" he said when she was put on the phone. "It's Joel. We met after the show?"

There was a silence. Joel wished he knew whether a smile or a scowl filled that silence. "I remember. What took you so long?"

It sounded to Joel like a smile. "Well, three days is my personal rule. Too quick and they make wedding plans," he chuckled.

Fortunately, Katey chuckled, too. "Well, I had picked out a china pattern, but that's all! Want to go out again?"

"Yes!" he said. "Are you free tonight?"

"Sorry. Rehearsal," said Katey. "Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Sure," Joel agreed. "Rehearsal? What play are you doing?"

"Little Shop Of Horrors," answered Katey.

"Oh — are you playing Audrey?" he wanted to know.

"Of course!" chirped Katey, taking on a humorous dumb-blonde tone.

"Wow, with the makeup, and bleached blonde hair, and—" Joel stopped short.

"Yes, and the big boobs," Katey said. "Go ahead. You can say it."

"Ummmm, Katey?" ventured Joel. "Tomorrow night, when we go out? Could you—?"

"No," she snapped. "I told you before. It's my avocation... not a vaudeville turn. See you at seven."

"Sure," shrugged Joel. "Seven. 'Bye."

He hung up the phone. There must be some way she would change her mind. Joel was aching to go out with Audrey — or Aldonza — or any character Katey might play with big, big boobs. Joel thought that Katey herself was great and everything, but since she could make her boobies bigger through — well, through "acting"... why didn't she? For him? If only there was some way he could change her mind... Joel looked around his apartment. His eye stopped on his computer. Yes! He opened Microsoft Word and began to type.

ACT ONE, SCENE ONE

Charlene enters Derek's apartment, dressed only in black lingerie and heels.

CHARLENE: Derek? Are you awake?

DEREK: Come here, beautiful.

The following afternoon, Joel got a call at work. "Hello? Joel Kaufman here."

There was a silence. Joel could swear he recognized the sound of Katey smiling — again.

"I got your... script," she said softly.

"Oh, you did? What did you think?" Joel asked. "I worked on it all night and left it by your apartment door."

"Looks pretty good for a first time playwright," Katey admitted. "I think there's a pretty good role for me in this. And for you. Joel... when's rehearsal?"

Joel allowed himself to smile. "You've got a seven o'clock call. Rehearsal hall will be my apartment."

"I won't be late," whispered the actress, and she hung up.

It was all Joel could do to get through his work that day. He could hardly wait for "curtain time", as it were.

At seven o'clock, there was a knock on the door of Joel's apartment. Joel opened it to find Katey, carrying a small overnight bag, and looking a bit disheveled.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he ushered her in.

"Oh, sure!" she beamed. "I've just been doing a little character study for this scene. That always takes a lot out of me." Joel thought he saw Katey touch herself briefly between her legs as she spoke.

"Would you like a cold drink before we begin?" offered Joel.

"No, thanks, I'm hot now," Katey explained, wiping her fingers on her jeans. "Let's get right to the scene."

Joel pointed to the overnight bag. "Costumes?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Doesn't look like very much," he shrugged.

Katey smiled devilishly. "Well, the playwright didn't include many clothes! Can we turn out the lights?"

Joel's heart sank. His ruse to get her into bed was working, but if she was going to 'act' big-busted, he wanted to see it.

Katey read his face immediately. "No, I don't want to do the scene in the dark," she reassured him. "I just like there to be... well, a little theatricality in the presentation. Even in rehearsal."

"Ah. I see," said Joel as he walked over to the light switch. "A little stagecraft. Lights up and lights down. All right." The room was plunged into darkness. Joel could hear clothes being removed and others put on — plus a continuing pulse of heavy breathing. He wasn't even sure if that was Katey or him.

"I'm ready," came a whisper from the darkness.

Joel switched on the light. Where a slightly built, freckle-faced brunette once stood... there was now a tall, broad-shouldered blonde, with alabaster skin and flowing honey colored hair. Her shapely legs and generously curved ass were on display, thanks to the the semi-transparent clingy panties she wore, along with a tall and spiky pair of black heels. Her impressive breasts were held aloft by a strong black bra that allowed her hardening nipples to be glimpsed through a lacy mesh. The underwires worked mightily at keeping these prize specimens from sagging, but they couldn't do it completely. This made her knockers, knockouts by anyone's standards, just that much more enticing because of that little bit of sag that proved they weren't products of the surgeon's knife.

No, thought Joel to himself. They were the product of acting! His scene partner seemed to sense his mind was wandering from the scene. She spoke.

"Derek?" she almost purred. Joel nearly forgot that he had named the male character in his scene Derek. "Are you awake?"

Joel knew that Katey Callaghan would demand total concentration on the scene and complete surrender to the demands of the text and the character. "Come here, beautiful," he nearly snarled.

This impossibly sexy creature stepped toward him, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt for him as she spoke. "I tried to sleep. By myself. In the guest room, so people wouldn't talk. But — but—"

"Yes?" he answered, helpfully removing his shirt and his belt.

"Derek, I just ached for you. Simply ached," the girl cried, hefting her breasts skyward in her bra as she spoke to underscore her point.

"Well, I specialize in taking care of aches," sweet-talked the man as he removed the last of his clothes. "I'm ahead of you now, baby. Better catch up."

She smiled with triumph and stepped back to make sure her striptease scene would have maximum impact. First, she wiggled her hips until the panties began to roll down her hips and legs. Then she casually stepped out of them. Her hair may have appeared blonde on her head, but between her legs was another story. This was a dense and dark jungle.

The temptress patiently waited for her intended's eyes to wander up to her chest. It didn't take long. She reached a hand to each boob, to bobble, bounce, and caress them in her own hands. As she did, she walked slowly and deliberately toward him. At the very last moment, she turned her back to him to present him with the hooks and eyes of the impressive bit of engineering that held these oversized symbols of sex high and proud. She never stopped working her own tits as she waited for him to act.

He reached for the clasp at the back of her bra tentatively. Suddenly and almost roughly, he tore it asunder, exposing the prize winning architecture of her chest to the open air.

She took in a breath, in pure excitement. Then she turned around... slowly, to maximize the effect of him laying eyes on her tits for the very first time. Letting them "make an entrance", you might say.

They were exquisite. Smooth as silk, heavy-looking, even as she moved them from side to side in her palms. Wine colored areola framed long, rubbery... and hardening nipples. She playfully reached for those nipples and made them point right at him.

As she stepped closer, he felt the heat of her breasts searing into his chest. She felt what an effect her body was having on him... felt it because it was stabbing the air, flailing erectly about, and reaching for its resting place between her legs.

Without a word, she acted quickly and forcefully. Using her beautifully dominant boobs, she directed him to lie on the floor by softly pushing him downward. He did, his member making like a flagpole. Without interrupting her self-breast-massage, she squatted until she could feel that he was in her firmly. She leaned forward. He opened his mouth to speak; she shut him up with a mouthful of nipple that touched the back of the roof of his mouth.

And she began. Hunching. Raising and lowering her body. Faster and faster until it was clear to everyone where the term "banging" came from. She was moving so fast that her breast popped from his mouth. He desperately tried to capture that nipple once again, but now she was using her titties to pummel his face from side to side in most exquisite mock punishment.

He leaned back and reached to paw her. He grabbed two resilient handfuls of tit... and squeezed with delight. He found that she altered her rate of banging to match his rate of squeezing. When he slowly moved his hands across the acres of tit, she slowly moved her pelvis back until his cock nearly worked its way out. When he squeezed hard to get a maximum handful, topping it off by pulling her nipples with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, she crashed her pelvic bone against his with such force that splashing could be heard. He increased his boob slamming pace and watched in wonder as their banging speed raced to match it.

He knew he was about to come and so did she. No word needed to be said. She moved off him and offered her hand to keep things going. As she expertly worked him, he rolled over and motioned for her to lie down. Her tits rose like a mountain range, even when she was in a prone position. As she wielded his cock like an artist's brush, he began to come. First, he spewed over her legs and abdomen. Then the two of them painted her tits, with an artistic dab on the tip of each nipple. Finally, together they put the final touches on her red lips.