Saturday Night School Ch. 03

All of the actors on the stage walked off except two, and Charlie just barely remembered to darken the stage, leaving spotlights on the two remaining actors. He lost himself in the feel of Michelle's hand, moving gently up and down his shaft. She didn't seem to be in any hurry. He caught a line from the actor, "... the course of true love never did run smooth..." Ha! Shakespeare definitely had that right.

Puck appeared from stage left just as Charlie felt Michelle's warm mouth envelop the head of his penis. He looked down at his lap, trying to see exactly what she was doing with her tongue. But her face was hidden by waves of long dark hair, bobbing up and down, cascading over his legs. Charlie realized suddenly that he had left Puck in darkness. He faded the spotlights from the middle of the stage and brought up the orange glow around Puck. The actor looked relieved to be finally lit.

Charlie wanted to laugh. The whole thing was completely ridiculous. At the beginning of the show, he'd felt seized by tension, apprehensive about hitting all the right light and sound cues with so little rehearsal. Even then, it seemed like a nearly impossible task. Now it turned out he would have to do it all with Michelle's tongue licking up and down on his erection, doing her best to make him spurt all over the control panel. It was the ultimate distraction.

But could he really complain about something that felt so good?

The strange thing was, the more Charlie tried to ignore the pleasure coming from his lap, the more sensitive he seemed to get. He tried to focus on Shakespeare's dialogue. He scanned the buttons, mentally going through the next ten cues and counting off the buttons and dials he would have to adjust. He tried to separate his consciousness into two parts, the part that needed to focus on his technical tasks and the part that was experiencing indescribable pleasure from the mouth and lips and tongue of a beautiful naked girl. But it was as if trying to mentally disengage himself from his body's physical reactions only freed his body to react stronger. His penis throbbed, swollen and taut, seemingly ready to explode at any moment.

The final two scenes were incredibly intense. The first was from The Tempest, the second from Hamlet. While the actors came onto the dark stage for The Tempest, Michelle climbed into Charlie's lap, facing towards the stage. He brought the lights up at the same time she lowered herself onto his erection. Prospero began his first monologue, and anyone looking at the small window of the control room would have seen two heads looking out the window where there had once been one, and would also surely have noticed that the second head, long haired and female, was positioned in front of the first head, bouncing up and down and paying no attention whatsoever to what was happening on the stage. For anyone looking that way, it should have been completely obvious what was happening. In fact, the way Michelle was bouncing in his lap, it was very likely that her breasts were visible above the bottom edge of the window. Michelle was too turned on to even care. All she seemed to be interested in was riding Charlie until he came.

Charlie turned on some of the lights around the window of the control room, hoping the bright lights would discourage anyone from looking their way. The stage was brighter than it should have been, but no one on stage seemed to notice the difference. Charlie watched the scene progress, adjusting microphone levels when he needed to, all the while acutely aware of the feel of Michelle's warm pussy squeezing his throbbing erection.

After the Tempest scene ended, and Charlie faded the lights to black, he let the Hamlet actors scramble onto the stage in the darkness while his hands roamed over Michelle's front, squeezing her breasts, stroking her nipples. He reluctantly pulled his hands away to bring the lights back up. The final scene of Hamlet, with a choreographed sword fight.

It was exquisite torture. Charlie struggled to concentrate, fought to hit all of his lighting cues, at the same time feeling himself getting closer and closer to climaxing. All he wanted to do was forget the show completely and throw himself into roughly fondling Michelle's soft body; clutching her hips and grinding her against his pelvis; thrusting as deep into her as he could. But he had a job to do, a responsibility. He had a stage full of people counting on him. He couldn't just toss it all aside.

At the same moment that Hamlet pretended to stab King Claudius on the stage, Charlie erupted inside Michelle. He clutched her sweaty breasts, feeling her chest heave with her ragged breathing. His penis pulsed inside her, again and again. She leaned back against him, her dark hair tickling his nose and cheek as he tried to watch the stage over her shoulder.

For several minutes, Michelle remained in his lap, leaning against him. He had his arms to either side of her, continuing his vigil over the stage. The right side of his chin pressed against her hair as he looked past her at the actors. He could feel her long breaths as she seemed to melt against him, oblivious to his frequent adjustments of the switches and dials on the control board.

God, it felt right. He loved the feel of her weight against him, the feel of her skin when his arms brushed against her, the intoxicating scent that radiated from her. He loved knowing that she felt him inside her, filling her; that they were so casually joined in the most intimate way possible.

Stay here forever, he wanted to whisper in her ear. He wanted to tell her she was right, they should both just let go of their worries, because it didn't matter if they were caught. Who cared what anyone else thought, when they could feel so close this way?

As if she could hear his foolish thoughts, Michelle straightened. She slipped off his softening penis and carefully descending from his lap until she knelt next to his chair. She tried to stuff his penis back inside his jeans, her fingers tugging at the sides of the zipper, trying to reconnect the snap at the top. He gently pushed her hands away, fearful of what damage she might accidentally do, and restored the front of his jeans himself. A glance downward confirmed he was decent again. Another glance confirmed that Michelle remained quite indecent, sprawled naked next to his chair like a pet, clinging to his leg.

Hamlet lay dead on the stage. Fortinbras and Horatio traded lines back and forth. The show was nearly at an end.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" he whispered.

"What?"

"They're finishing the scene," he said. "You should..."

He didn't finish, because two boys dressed as foot soldiers came onto the stage from the left to drag Hamlet away. Charlie brought the lights down and waited for the wave of applause to break over the audience. Applause had followed each scene, but this time the clapping came louder and longer. Charlie counted to ten, then brought the lights back up so that the actors could make their bows. All of the actors from all the scenes came to the stage. They stood in lines, one group after another, to bow. Charlie waited, watching. His final duty would be to dim the stage lights as the auditorium lights came on.

All of the actors stood on stage now, several rows of them, and they all bowed as a group. The applause went up a notch for a moment, then started to subside. Charlie peered out the window at the audience, waiting for that moment when the appreciation exhausted itself and the audience started to think about leaving.

One man stood, gathering his things, then a woman. Several more stood up in the audience. Charlie slowly pulled the stage lights down, and simultaneously one of the ushers below brought up the auditorium lights.

Show over. Charlie let out a long breath.

A foot scraped the stairs outside. That was their only warning. Charlie scrambled to his feet, hoping he could make it to the door before it opened. Put his body against it, hold it closed until Michelle could get dressed. He didn't make it halfway to the door before it flew open. Mr. Anderson walked in. He had a giant smile on his face.

"Charlie! Excellent job!" the teacher boomed. "Everything went off without a hitch!"

Charlie stood petrified, waiting for the teacher to notice Michelle sitting naked on the ground. But Mr. Anderson just stood there, beaming. Charlie wanted to look behind him, to see where Michelle was, but he didn't want to draw any attention to her.

"I missed a few of the cues..." Charlie said.

Mr. Anderson laughed. "Did you? Well, that's the perfectionist in you talking. I can tell you it looked perfect from where I was standing. The audience didn't notice anything, that's for sure." The teacher clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "Well done. I had a sleepless night when Spencer got the flu. But I shouldn't have worried. You had your hands full, but you handled it like a champ!"

"Thanks..." Charlie said weakly.

"Come backstage when you can. We have some food, some sodas. All right?" Mr. Anderson turned for the door, and Charlie prayed that the teacher would leave. But suddenly Mr. Anderson turned back. "Hey, Mr. Garett told me you've applied for the Film program at Jefferson University?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"I know one of the professors in the Film department. An old friend of mine. I can give him a call, maybe talk up your application?"

"Really? That would be awesome. Thanks, Mr. Anderson."

"It would be my pleasure, Charlie. Jefferson U. would be lucky to have you." The teacher clapped Charlie on the shoulder again. Then, to Charlie's great relief, Mr. Anderson turned and left.

As soon as the door closed, Charlie jumped for it, planting his foot against the bottom of the door and bracing it with his shoulder. He looked down at the floor for Michelle, but didn't see her. She was gone! His eyes darted wildly around the small room, wondering where she could have disappeared to.

He spotted movement under the sound board. Michelle peeked out. "That was close!" she said, smiling.

"Too close! I thought we were done for! How'd you squeeze into that space down there?"

"I don't know. It was the only place I could go."

"Will you get dressed before someone else pounds on the door?"

She giggled. "He didn't see anything!"

"I know. I can't believe how lucky we are."

Michelle grinned as she stood. "Should I have come out and hugged him goodbye?"

Charlie stared.

"I'm kidding!" She wiggled her fingers at him.

Charlie managed a weak smile. "Okay. Now can you get dressed?"

"I am! I'm looking for my clothes."

"You lost your clothes?!?"

"Here they are." Michelle reached under the sound board and pulled out her dress and underwear. "I didn't know you were applying to film school."

Charlie watched as she stepped into her panties and pulled them up her legs. "The film program at Jefferson. I applied. It's hard to get into, though."

"You'll get in."

"I hope so..."

"You will! You're good at everything." She reached back to connect her bra.

"I still have your clothes, you know. From last time. You left them."

"Oh, yeah." She bent down to pick up her dress.

"What should I do with them?"

"Um... just bring them to me sometime. Whenever."

"Yeah." Charlie frowned. "I was going to. But you know... I wasn't sure how to give them to you. Without, you know...people finding out."

"Finding out?"

"About our secret. This secret we have."

"Oh. Right." Michelle looked down at the dress dangling in her fingers.

"I thought... if I gave you a bag of your clothes... with panties and stuff in there... and someone saw... it'd be pretty obvious..."

"Yeah..." She ducked her head into the dress, pulling it down over her body. Her voice came muffled from under the fabric. "Well... I guess you can do whatever with those clothes. Get rid of them or whatever."

"What, like throw them away?"

"Or whatever. Whatever you want to do with them."

Charlie thought about the flimsy garments in their hiding place under his bed. Would it freak her out if she knew how many times he'd pulled out her bra and panties, just to rub them with his fingers and think about her? Probably. But he knew he wasn't going to throw them away.

Michelle pulled and tugged at her tight dress, smoothing it into place. Now she was fully dressed. She gazed at Charlie expectantly, and he moved away from the door so he was no longer blocking it. She didn't move, still gazing at him in that expectant way. "Don't you like this dress?" she asked.

The question surprised him. "Yeah. I like it," he said. "You look beautiful, Michelle. You always look beautiful."

She smiled. "Thanks..." She stepped up to him and pressed a light kiss on his lips. Almost as if they were dancing, she pressed her hands against his shoulders and, swaying back and forth on her toes, turned him in a circle, moving him further away from the door. She kissed him one more time, then pulled the door open just enough to slip out. Before he had a chance to tell her goodbye, she was gone.

Charlie turned back to the room in a daze. He walked up to the window and looked down at the auditorium. The seats were nearly empty now. It was an informal production, and the curtains remained open, with cast members joking and laughing with friends and family from the stage. A few members of the tech crew had already started moving the scenery and props off. Soon, someone would come up to haul away the lights that had been hung specifically for the show.

Charlie looked at the sound board. That was his responsibility, the sound board and the microphones. He would need to haul them back to the AV room and check them in. He reached down and unplugged the board, then started to pull out the microphone cables.

He noticed something sitting beside the sound board. "Oh, Michelle," he sighed, shaking his head. It was her vibrator, sitting right there in plain sight. Thank goodness none of the tech crew had come up yet. Thank goodness Mr. Anderson hadn't noticed it. Charlie quickly scooped up the device and put it in his bag.

Later that night, it joined Michelle's panties and bra in the secret cache under his bed. Another memento of his secret girlfriend and a reminder of the Third Michelle. He sat on his bed and cradled the device in his hands, knowing that it had been inside her, knowing that it had a coating of her arousal still on its surface. Such an intimate reminder of their secret affair. Her vibrator! It was even more personal than her panties.

He went to bed that night feeling like he'd had one of the best days of his life.

The next morning, he came crashing back down.

It was a Saturday, and he realized he had no desire whatsoever to drive to the school. Why bother? Michelle wouldn't be there. She'd let a few weeks pass between the First Michelle and the Second, and another few weeks between the Second and Third. If a Fourth Michelle happened, it would happen in a few weeks. Not the day after the Third Michelle.

After all, she'd just satisfied her weird obsession. She'd gotten herself off. Probably her appetite would be satisfied for a while. That was the pattern, right? Once she had her fun, she didn't need Charlie anymore. She could go on with her life. Until the desires came back, and then she would seek out Charlie again. He was the only one who knew her secret, and the only one she could indulge herself with.

Maybe she was like an alcoholic trying to quit. Maybe after each event, she told herself it was the last time, and she was done with it. After a few weeks, the need would come creeping back, and she would find herself seeking out Charlie for another fix.

Was that all he was to her?

Charlie stared at the ceiling of his room for most of Saturday morning. In the afternoon, he got in his car, but instead of driving to the school, he drove out of Pine Hills and along the highway for half an hour, finally stopping at a Gozerburger twenty miles out of town for lunch. He ate in a booth by himself, watching the cars pass by outside the window.

"I can't keep doing this," he muttered to himself. He didn't doubt that Michelle was the definition of a dream girl, and any other boy in the school would trade places with him in an instant. He couldn't deny that he felt an absurd happiness when he was with her. But he'd only been with her three times in the last two months. The gaps were becoming too hard to take, the lows too deep and empty. He hated the uncertainty of never knowing if she was done with him, never understanding what drew her back.

"I don't need a secret girlfriend," he thought. "I need a real one. An every day one." He hadn't felt like his life was lonely until he met Michelle. She made him realize how much he had isolated himself, hiding behind his cameras and his projects, never reaching out to anyone. He would graduate in three months and his memories of high school would all be of sitting in front of a computer, splicing together images of other people's experiences.

She had come into his life and stirred something up inside him that he hadn't known was there. Now he had to admit to himself that he couldn't be satisfied with the way things stood between them. He wanted something more real.

"Monday," he told himself. "Michelle has one day. One last chance. If it's like all the other Mondays, where she doesn't speak to me at all then that's it. I'm done with her."

Monday came. He saw her in the hall, and she didn't say a word. And that was it.

***

Charlie sat at his usual lunch table in the cafeteria, with the usual gang. Andy and Greg, Michael and Dinesh, another boy that everyone called Frito. Charlie was only half-listening to their conversation, lost in his own thoughts.

"What about you, Charlie?" Greg asked.

Charlie blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Prom. You thinking about going to the prom?"

"Sure he is!" Dinesh burst in. "He's going so he can film it!" The boys laughed.

"Have you decided which camera you're going to take, Charlie?" Andy asked.

Dinesh added, "Better hurry... before they're all asked already, and you get stuck with the Nikon!" Laughter.

Charlie smiled tightly. When the laughter subsided, he said, "As a matter of fact, I am going to prom. I'm taking Ronni."

The laughter evaporated immediately. Now five sets of eyes gazed at him in sudden interest. "Ronni?" Dinesh asked. "No kidding?"

"You asked her?" Michael asked.

"I asked her," Charlie confirmed. "She said yes."

"Wow... you and Ronni..." Greg considered the news. "What, you like her? I didn't know you liked her..."

"I don't know..." Charlie said. "I mean, I know her from the AV team. She's cool. We'll see what happens."

"Yeah, she is cool," Dinesh agreed. "She's pretty, too. Nice job, Charlie."

The boys all nodded, looking at Charlie with respect. The discussion turned to Andy, who still hadn't asked out his prom choice. "I'm pretty sure she'll say yes..." Andy said. "I'm just waiting for the right moment..."

Charlie returned to his thoughts, only vaguely listening to the boys as they heaped unsolicited advice onto Andy. He stirred the pasta on his plate with his fork. How many bites had he taken? Two? Three? He didn't seem to have much of an appetite lately.

Charlie realized the boys had all stopped talking. They all stared at him. Charlie straightened, confused. What had he missed?

No, it wasn't him they were staring at. They were staring at Michelle. Michelle Santos was standing right next to him.

Charlie looked up at her. She looked amazing, as always, in a pristine white dress, with her dark hair brushed straight and tucked behind her ears. Charlie blinked, surprised to find her standing so close to him. Was she actually going to talk to him?

"Hey, Michelle," he said.