Shakespeare's Valentine Pt. 04

79.

Cherri finally released me the next morning. Not that I particularly wanted to go, but we had a company call at 11:00 to continue working through Macbeth. As I stood in the tiny shower cubicle in my apartment, I had a disturbing thought. The past--what?--thirty some hours had been as happy as any I could remember, not to mention potentially life-changing. I'd fallen in love, or maybe just fallen deeper in love, with Cherri. My head felt like I was popping popcorn in it: idea after idea flying this way and that. Did she love me too? If so, what to do next. If not...didn't want to go there. Was this even right? What did we really know about each other? Sex had been great. Sex had been better than great! Sex had been...yeah, but what if that's all it was? Nah! She'd said...and on and on and on.

All well and good, but I had a fucking play to rehearse. I had lines I'd neglected, and business to refine and polish, not to mention fights to drill. What if I wasn't interested anymore? What if I just wanted to spend the rest of my life in bed with Cherri? What if...fuck it. Get out of the damn shower, get dressed, and go earn what passes for your salary.

80.

At least the lack of interest part of the popcorn turned out not to be a problem. Back in rehearsal, Cherri and I, by what seemed like a mutual tacit understanding, treated each other with the affectionate professionalism we'd developed during the first week. And we both threw ourselves back into the work with energy and enthusiasm. Maybe people would have no idea we'd hooked up.

Fat chance.

There are very few secrets in a rehearsal room, and fewer still in a regional rehearsal room, where two thirds of the company comes from out of town, and is sometimes housed--as we all were--in a single building. By the end of Tuesday's rehearsal it was clear that most of the cast knew, that some of them approved, and more didn't care one way or the other. Most actors are tolerant of showmances, which is what everybody assumed this was, because they've had them themselves, or hope to. As long as nothing unpleasant makes its way into the rehearsal room, the usual practice is to acknowledge what's going on, gossip a bit about it, if you enjoy that sort of thing, and get on with your day.

At dinner in my apartment that night--supermarket baked chicken, salad from a bag, and baked sweet potatoes, because I may not know much about cooking, but I know how to bake a fucking sweet potato--Cherri warned me that I'd better treat her right.

"Sam said all I had to do was say the word and he'd happily beat the shit out of you for me."

"That's aggressive. I thought Sam" (Sam Cabrerra, 6'3" and 240 pounds of Banquo/Siward) "and I got along pretty well."

Cherri grinned. "I think he may still have a little crush on me. We did Tooth of Crime together maybe five years ago, and he sort of hit on me, but I was with somebody else at the time, so..."

"Okay, now I am jealous. I've never done any Shepard."

"Really? There's all kinds of good stuff for you. Anyway, you just better be good to me, or Banquo might murder Macbeth first."

"Can I be good to you again tonight?"

She giggled. "I was hoping you'd ask. In fact, I'm thinking about modifying my conditions for our agreement."

"What conditions? For that matter, what agreement? We were supposed to keep our hands off each other--mostly--until Valentine's Day."

"I know, but you just couldn't resist my feminine allure."

"I couldn't...? You know, premature senility is a terrible thing. You're the one who..."

"ANYWAY!" she was grinning, "I don't think you'll find the modified condition too hard to deal with. Or maybe, hopefully, you will."

"Will what?"

"Find it, um, hard to deal with. I've decided we should both be naked when you give me my goodnight kiss. And preferably in my bed, under the covers. Think you can work with that?"

"Not in my bed?"

"I'm willing to be flexible."

"I know you are."

"You're a beast, and I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. But seriously, are you using the sheets that come with this place?"

I grinned ruefully. "Guilty."

She pretended to consider. "Well...if we happen to be here, for dinner, say. And you find yourself unable to resist" she gave her voice the high-pitched innocence of the heroine in a melodrama, "hurling me onto your bed and having your wicked, wicked way with me, I suppose we can make an exception. But wouldn't you rather..."

"Say no more, my Lady. Much more comfortable outraging you on the bamboo. And I reluctantly..." speeding my voice up, and going for a kind of human Golden Retriever vibe, "agree totally and completely to your condition so can we go up right now, huh, can we, huh, can we can we can we?"

She laughed. "You're a goof!"

"And you're a naughty little temptress!"

"Ooh, naughty am I? Does that mean I'm going to get that spanking you promised me the other day?"

"Maybe. But I have to Venmo Regina first." Regina was our first Witch/Lady Macduff. She was also Beatrice in Much Ado, and she had the apartment next to Cherri's.

"Regina? Why?"

"At lunch today, she said that if I planned on spending any more nights at your place, I had to buy her a pair of earplugs."

Cherri's cheeks turned pink.

"Oops. Oh boy! Well...maybe you should take that as a compliment."

I didn't comment on that. But I grinned.

Cherri rolled her eyes. She said: "Bastard."

81.

Four magical weeks. Every day we worked on what was turning into an excellent production of one of the greatest plays ever written, and almost every night Cherri and I would go to sleep in each other's arms, usually after one or two orgasms apiece. Sometimes we were passionate with each other, sometimes gentle, sometimes playful, sometimes downright kinky.

For example: Friday of the second week, we rehearsed Act 4, scene 1, Macbeth's final visit to the witches. Gil'd had an idea.

Everybody, directors included, know about ideas. They come by night, whispering to your addled subconscious that they hold the key to this line or that scene, and that all you need to do is follow their directives and theatrical immortality is yours.

They're almost always shit. You try them. They don't work. You move on with your day.

The witches begin 4.1 creating their famous potion: "Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog." All that fun stuff. In many productions, Macbeth, who enters as they're finishing up this demon chowder, is forced to drink some of it in order to access the visions the witches show him as the scene continues. Gil decided that the witches would bind my arms between two poles. Then, one would pull my head back, while another fed me the brew with a long spoon, and the third conducted the apparitions. Footlights and fog in front of me, and since I'd been bound standing up, the audience would have an easier time seeing my reactions. All of which begged the question where to put the apparitions...

We tried it. Didn't take long for it to get complicated. Would Macbeth allow himself to be bound? Seems unlikely. So how should the witches overpower him in order to bind him? Magic, of course. So...what kind of magic?

The scene limped along. Variations on the theme for about a week. When Gil finally admitted defeat, cut the binding, and had the witches force me to my knees behind the cauldron, dunking my head into the brew for each apparition, the decision took a full ten minutes off the show's run time.

Everybody was relieved. Regina muttered "Praise Jesus!" under her breath when Gil announced we were losing the binding. Nobody liked it.

Well, nobody except Cherri.

82.

Cherri had watched Friday's rehearsal of 4.1. It had been the last scene of the day, and she and I had planned to walk home together. At the stairs up to her apartment, she turned and put her arms around me.

"My Thane, would you mind terribly kissing me goodnight now, and maybe spending tonight in our own rooms? I want a little alone time with 5.1 before we work it tomorrow...for two and a half hours!"

Did I mind? No. Well, not really. It'd be our first night apart since we'd come together the previous Sunday. I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to sleep without the warmth of her, or the smell of her, or...hoo boy! For fuck sake, Brenner, you'd managed for the first nearly half century of your benighted existence, hadn't you?

I said: "No problem, Cher." and leaned in to kiss her.

She put a finger to my lips. "I'm going to miss this warm body, and these sweet lips," which made everything a little better. Then she cupped my chin, and brought my mouth to hers. We shared a slow, deep kiss, and her hand dropped to my groin. She stroked me as she whispered "mmm, and this nice, hard cock, but I am not going to touch myself tonight."

"Oh no?"

"Uh uh. Because tomorrow night, I have plans for you, and for it"

"Do you?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay!" And just like that, the world was a wonderful place again. I'd thought I'd been in love before. Didn't remember it being this...blissfully disorienting.

Cherri purred: "Kiss me again." I did, and as we finished, she took my lower lip between her teeth and bit it gently.

"Sweet dreams...my Thane."

"And to you, my Lady." And I lingered to watch her climb the stairs, because...well, for all kinds of reasons.

83.

Saturday's rehearsal ended at 6:00, and Cherri had been released early. Coming out of the theater, my phone buzzed with a text:

"My place at 8:00 pm sharp! Have an early dinner. You're going to need your strength."

What the...?

84.

Cherri opened to my knock at 8:00. Bathrobe, nightshirt, no makeup, and no reference made to it, which made me happy for some reason I couldn't quite articulate. I reached for her, but she stepped back. I said: "No goodnight kiss?"

She grinned. "Hmm, you know how much I love your kisses, but first I want to play a game."

I said: "Cards Against Humanity? Trivial Pursuit? Ice Hockey?"

She stared at me for a second: "Must be interesting to be you. No...I want to play a kinky sex game."

I said: "Let me think about...okay!"

She giggled. "Trust me?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Pick a safe word."

Okay then. I thought for a minute: "Paintbrush."

That made her grin. "You're a complete loon, you know that?"

"Yes, my Lady."

She stared at me for a few moments without saying anything. Finally, I said: "What?"

She crooked a finger, led me into her bedroom and shut the door behind us. Then she said: "Strip."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Then put a pillow under your neck, and lie on your back in the center of the bed."

"Wait a minute..."

"Uh uh. Unless you're calling paintbrush, we're playing by my rules. You said you trusted me."

Fair enough. I took off my clothes, positioned the pillow, and lay on my back.

"Now," she said, and she drew out the words, "I am going to tie you to my bed. Wrists and ankles, Give! And let me know if the knots are too uncomfortable. I may or may not do anything about it, but I don't really want to hurt you." She gave me a wicked grin. "Yet."

From beneath the bed she produced four lengths of a soft rope which she'd secured to the frame. With pre-tied knots she bound my wrists and ankles: legs spread, and hands above my head. Before long, she had me spread-eagled. A human letter X. The bindings had some give. I could bend my knees and elbows slightly. But I wasn't going anywhere until Cherri's little game was over.

85.

Cherri surveyed her work. "Comfy?"

I tugged at the bindings: "I mean... Where'd you get this rope, by the way?"

She giggled. "Borrowed some from props. Wait'll you see what I borrowed from costumes." Then she sat beside me and began running the pads of her fingers up and down my torso. Her voice, when she spoke, was half tease, half confession: "The thing is...I got jealous. I mean I was honest-to-God jealous when those bitches tied you to those poles. Like I was a kid with a new toy," her hand wandered down my body, and wrapped gently around my cock, which had begun to stiffen as she stroked my chest, "and these three other kids were playing with it," the hand around my shaft tightened, "without my permission."

I groaned with pleasure, and then I said: "Good."

Cherri gave me a quizzical look. "Good?"

I grinned up at her. "Uh huh."

"Why good?"

"Tell you later."

She stared at me for a minute, then began stroking my cock very slowly. "You should think carefully about not pissing me off. After all," she picked up the pace, gripping me hard. I began to gasp and pant. Soon I felt my cock begin to swell. I was close, closer...closer... She dropped my cock and stood back, watching me thrash and twitch. She'd timed it perfectly. She gave me an evil grin. "After all, you are completely at my mercy."

I tried to smile between gritted teeth. "My Lady, you can be a vicious bitch!"

"That's not very nice. I may have to teach you a little lesson in manners." She reached under her nightshirt, and stepped out of a pair of lacy red panties. She stretched them between her fingers, making a show of examining them.

"I've had these on all day. I rehearsed in them. I mean 5.1, so not the absolute sexiest scene in the play, but after rehearsal...afterwards, I spent all day imagining the naughty, nasty fun I would have tying you up. Teasing you, stroking you, sucking you, or maybe even fucking you, and my little red panties just got wetter, and wetter..." She was sitting on the bed now, I could smell the arousal coming off her pussy, or the panties, or both. "Mmmm," she brought the lace to her nose, "like an animal in heat. Here."

She waved the panties under my nose.

"Don't I smell nice?"

I took a deep breath, savoring the scent of her. I said: "Cher you..." and as my mouth opened, she pushed two lace covered fingers between my lips.

"Open wide, Sweetie!" And before I knew it, my mouth was full of gamy red lingerie. I thought about spitting them out, but Cherri read my mind.

"Don't you dare!" Her hand was back, gripping my cock. Her voice became a purr. "I'm going to freshen up a bit. Take a shower, dab a little perfume here" a finger traced the tops of her breasts hidden by the nightshirt, "and there." Now the finger disappeared under the bottom of the nightshirt. "If I come back to find those panties anywhere but where they are right now...well, let's just say there will be consequences. Understand, Lover?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now, I'm going to take your cock in my mouth and suck it for just a minute. Just to give you a little something to think about while I'm gone. Be a good boy, and don't you...dare...cum."

"Yeff, mifftreff."

She giggled. "Actors. You just can't shut them up."

"No, mifftreff."

She leaned over, and her lips closed around the head of my dick. All of a sudden, I couldn't think of anything else to say.

86.

I don't really know the 10cc song "The Things We Do for Love." It's a little before my time. But that didn't stop the same four measures of it running through my brain like a coked up hamster for most of the 45 minutes that Cherri left me tied up naked on red bamboo sheets in a hotel in East North Nowhere with a pair of panties in my mouth.

I have a memory of getting seriously twitchy, but my body must have decided there wasn't much to be done about it, since I also apparently dozed. In any case I was awakened by something warm and smooth caressing my face. My eyes opened, and I found myself looking into two lovely green eyes, now heavily lined, shadowed and mascaraed, behind a lacy black mask. As she leaned back, I saw two deep red lips curl into a sensuous smile

"Wake up, Lover. Play time."

Cherri stood next to the bed. She ran her hands over her body allowing me to take in sheer black thigh-high stockings clipped to garters attached to a black zip-up corset, which did nothing to conceal the fact that my Lady wore neither bra nor panties. The lack of panties was no surprise. When she'd wakend me I'd virtually inhaled the pair she'd been wearing, before she'd decided to feed them to me. And I suppose a bra wouldn't have made much sense either. Anyhow, the lingerie squeezed Cherri's full breasts into round half moons of pale pink flesh bisected by a deep cleavage, and the hint of two darker pink circles along the top of the corset made me wonder how long it would take for her tits to bounce free of their confines. Long silky black opera gloves covered her arms to just above her elbows, and the combination of the heavy makeup under her mask, and the severe ponytail which pulled her dark hair off her forehead made her look very sexy, and a little bit dangerous.

"Oh, God!" Cherri rasped, "I could almost cum just from looking at you looking at me." She climbed onto the bed and straddled me with her legs above my hips. I could feel the moisture from her naked pussy warm against my stomach. "You know what makes this so...fucking...hot? You know why my slutty little cunt is just dripping at the sight of you tied up, helpless, completely at my mercy?" She ran her hands over my chest, and pinched my nipples between her gloved fingers. I twitched, and she laughed softly. "Because I know how strong you are. I know exactly what you'd do to me, if you weren't so fucking powerless. I can see it in your eyes. You'd pick me up, and throw me onto my back, and force my legs apart, and then you'd just bury that big, thick dick of yours balls deep in my dripping hole," her dirty talk was driving me crazy; I could feel my erection growing, reaching for the cheeks of her plump, round ass, "and then you'd really go to town on me, wouldn't you? You'd pound my pussy until I screamed and screamed..." Her right hand reached between her legs and she began jilling herself, moistening her fingers with her juices, and then reaching up to toy with her clit. "Oh fuck, that feels good! But you can't, can you? Ohh yesss...fuck! You just have to...uh, huh, huh...sit there...yuh, huh...and watch...me...oh FUCK! OhfuckohyesohfuckohFUCK!"

She was cumming before I could figure out where to look. I'd flashed on her bouncing breasts, still barely contained by the corset, on her hot pink slit, moist and shiny with her arousal, and finally settled on her face, flushed and pink behind the mask, her red lips rounded in a now silent cry of ecstasy as her body bucked and writhed. After a long moment of stillness, during which I could feel her moisture cooling on my abdomen, she gave a contented sigh, and reached forward with a finger to hook her spit soaked panties out of my mouth.

87.

"Cher, you are so fucking..."

She slapped my face. Not hard, but not a love tap either. "Uh uh, not tonight! Tonight I'm your Lady, or Mistress..." She climbed off of me, and lay down, the fingers of her right hand teasing the hair on my chest, and her mouth next to my ear. "Or," she whispered, "you can call me names. You can call me a dirty slut, or a sexy little whore. You can even tell me what you want me to do to you. I might not do it, but...you never know. Go ahead, Stud. Try it. Tell this hot little bitch what you want her to do to your dick. Did watching me finger fuck myself make it all hard?"

So I wasn't the only one loving the dirty talk.

"You know it did, you naughty little fuckslut! It's so hot and hard for you right now. Why don't you wrap those sweet lips around it and get it all wet and sloppy, and then put it between those big soft titties of yours and let me fuck them until I cum all over your slutty face?"

Cherri grinned: "Ooh, nasty! I like it! But...I don't know." she raised her head and put her chin in her hand, "Fucking my tits and cumming on my face sounds like something we should try when you have me on my knees, not when I have you on your back. Besides," she leaned in and ran her tongue over my nipple; I hissed, "I got the mask from costumes. Wouldn't be polite to return it all wet," she kissed my nipple, "and sloppy," kissed it again, "and sticky." This time she bit me gently. I groaned and writhed. She giggled. "Ooh, looks like somebody's..." another quick nip, "sensitive."