Shakespeare's Valentine Pt. 05

96.

The following morning, I placed a call to a woman I hadn't seen or spoken to in more than twenty years.

"Hello, Mrs. Etcitty? My name is Dai Brenner. I wonder if you remember..."

97.

Soon we were in tech. Technical rehearsals: a week before you open-sometimes more, if you're lucky-you're out of the rehearsal room and into the theater, incorporating the set, the lights, the costumes, the sound, working transitions, firming up business. As a rule, not much acting goes on. Designers help actors find light, make quick-changes; actors position props for easy access, request glo-tape on stair units and door frames. And on this particular Friday, the fight director reminds Macduff not to overextend on his initial cut five, because we really can't afford to lose the entire first electrical to a single swipe of a blunted aluminum broadsword.

"So hang it higher!" snarled Kal.

Magnus (Lighting Designer), with the kind of polite contempt seasoned tech people reserve for your more demanding breed of actor: "We will, Sweetie, but for today, I'm just trying to see how to light your final entrance, so if you could be a little patient..."

Mac (Fight Director), muttered under her breath: "God, could that poor man's dick be any smaller...?"

98.

Cherri and I did our courteous professionalism routine into the wee hours. The contract allowed Oak Ridge Shakespeare two ten-out-of-twelves, and three eight-out-of-tens, so two days on which rehearsal began at noon and lasted until midnight, and three more on which the festivities began at 1:00 pm, and lasted until 11:00. But after rehearsals, back at her apartment, we were suddenly a little shy of each other. We still spent nearly every night in bed together, and Cherri never failed to claim her goodnight kiss. We still had sex pretty regularly, although given how long some of the days were, there were some nights when we were asleep before our heads hit those rose red bamboo pillowcases.

But I had told Cherri that I loved her. And she had said the same thing to me. And that changed things a little.

99.

So we were more than halfway through tech: 12:45 am on a cold February morning, and Cherri and I stood in the hallway outside her door. Before we went in, I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you maybe want to sleep alone tonight?"

"Do you?" My Lady was beat. She hadn't been saying much for the last few nights. Now her voice was brittle, and there was an edge to it.

I was wary, but I wasn't exactly surprised. Actors are amateur psychologists, or at least the good ones are. Getting inside of peoples' heads is part of the job description. I didn't think I'd exactly meant to start the inevitable discussion after midnight towards the end of a punishing week, but I was whacked too, so really, who knows what I meant? What I said was:

"No, Cher. I really don't. I love sleeping next to you, and waking up to the sight of your hair on the pillow, and the sound of your breathing, and the smell of your..."

"Of my what?"

She was glaring at me now, but I thought I caught her trying to bury a smile.

"You want the diplomatic answer, or the honest one?"

She huffed. "How do you even have the energy to play these games at one-o-clock in the fucking morning after two straight ten-out-of-twelves?"

"A healthy diet, plenty of exercise, and church every Sunday."

"Okay, first of all, fuck you just in general, and second of all, you're Jewish."

"Half."

"Whatever."

She had the door open. "Get inside. I'm seriously considering murdering you, and I don't want witnesses."

100.

Inside the apartment, she dropped her bag on the kitchen table and collapsed on the sofa. I sprawled next to her, not quite touching. Eventually, she curled into me, resting her head on my chest, and letting me wrap an arm around her shoulder. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"Now, you pervert," she still sounded exhausted, but the smile was back in her voice, "the smell of my what, exactly?"

"Well, out in the hallway, with half the company wandering around, I'd have said the smell of your perfume. But now that we're behind clothes doors...I just love waking up to the smell of your body: a little sweat," I leaned close and murmured into her hair, "a little whiff of your pussy, if we happen to have had sex the previous evening..."

"Which we haven't for the past couple of days. I'm sorry..."

"Wait a minute, why are you sorry? There's no rule say that we have to have sex if we don't feel like it. And this has been a pretty intense couple of weeks."

"I know, but..." She paused, and then in a different tone of voice. "Dai, can I ask you something?"

Uh oh. "Sure, Cher."

"It's just that everything's so...between us. It's wonderful, but...okay, I'm obsessed with you. I love being around you, talking to you, teasing you, sitting quietly with you. When I'm not with you, part of me feels kind of giddy, because I know you're out in the world somewhere, maybe thinking of me, or...and then part of me feels a little needy, like I'm an addict with a supply at home, but I have to get back for my fix...which sounds dark and horrible, but I kind of mean it in a good way...is this making any sense to you at all?"

I wasn't sure where she was going, but so far it all sounded positive, and it wasn't like she was speaking a foreign language...

Cherri didn't wait for me to answer her question. "And the sex is...God, I shouldn't even tell you. You'll smirk at me, and...I don't know, do what guys do: tell their friends, post on...whatever we're posting on these days. But that's bullshit, because I know you won't-well, you might smirk-but you won't do any of the other...because you're different. That's what it comes down to. You're different than every other guy I've ever been with...and I mean, radically different, so...if I'm in love with you, and I think I am...maybe I've never really been in love before, and that's...a little scary, since I'm turning 42 in a little more than a month, and if you tell that fact to a single soul, I will personally light you on fire. Please stay here tonight?"

"Cher, Honey, there's no place..." I sighed. "Of course I'll stay here tonight. Here's where I want to be, more than anything."

"Even though I'm crazy?"

"No crazier than me."

She lifted her head off my chest, and looked into my face. "Really?"

I smiled. "My Lady, I am seriously afraid to tell you how nuts I am for you. It's...Cher, knowing that I get to spend time with you, talk to you, that I get to fall asleep next to you, kiss you and touch you and...I mean colors are brighter. I'm not kidding. Tastes, smells: they're more intense. I'm...I don't know, I'm just a little more alive in the world, because I'm with you. I mean it's a little terrifying. And...you're right. It's terrifying because it's different. You're different. I thought I'd been in love before. A couple of times. I was wrong.

101.

Cherri's head was back on my chest. Her arms were wrapped around me, and she was crying quietly. I figured that was okay, so I didn't say anything. Eventually, she let go of me, rolled away, and sat next to me on the couch, wiping her eyes.

"You really have to stop making me so happy," she sniffed. "I'm getting dehydrated."

"Note to self: disappoint the woman I love. Hey, do you mind if I start tomorrow? Tonight I'm kind of beat." Then I remembered. "Cher, were you going to ask me something?"

"Oh...um, yeah." She seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "Dai, this is maybe a silly question, but...since this is kind of uncharted territory, for both of us..."

"My Lady, spit it out."

She giggled. "Alright, then. My Thane, can we still fuck?"

102.

What the... "Um...I mean I can't absolutely guarantee tonight, but otherwise I certainly hope so! Why do you...?"

"I don't just mean sex, I mean...like then other night, when I tied you up and told you to call me names, and you said...oh fuck, I'm getting wet just thinking about it...you said...you called me a fuckslut, and you said you wanted to...to fuck my tits and cum on my face. Do you...still want to do that?"

I swallowed. "Uh, yeah, I do. If you're okay with it. Do you not want...?"

"No, I do! I really, really do! I...really get off on the idea of you, kind of...taking me, or taking what you want from me, or...I don't know. I love it when we're gentle and passionate with each other too, but, I don't want to...but I don't want you to love me less, because of...Oh, shit, Dai!" All of a sudden, she was sobbing, forcing her words out as she tried to catch her breath. "This's the best...thing that's ever...happened to me, and I...I don't want to fuck it up, because...I...but I don't...I mean...oh fuck, I'm so tired, and..."

I pulled her into me and held her hard. Then I kissed the top of her head, and started stroking her back through the flannel overshirt she was still wearing. I cooed to her, meaningless little syllables: comfort, reassurance, affection. Didn't matter. I'd have been happy to go on all night, until we fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms on that saggy old couch. But it was only a few minutes before Cherri's sobs subsided, and a little voice from somewhere near my sternum breathed: "Oh Dai, Sweetie, I am so sorry."

I kissed her head once more, inhaled an admixture of sweat, shampoo, and whatever else people who have hair use to control it. "Honey, don't worry about it. It's my fault anyway for starting this conversation tonight, when we're both exhausted, so I'm the one who should be sorry. Look, we can leave it alone and just go to bed, but...can I just say one thing, while I can still remember it?"

She snuggled closer. "Honey. I like that. I like all your little names for me," she murmured, "Cher, Minx, Honey, Fuckslut..."

I chuckled. "So you're good with any of them?"

"Uh huh. But, say your piece. I need some sleep."

103.

I was head over heels in love with Cherri, but I didn't know her all that well yet. Part of the fun was getting to know her, and part of the thrill of getting to know her was discovering how much more I liked her as I got to know her better.

But. I had a theory, based on what she'd said about some of her former lovers, and on how she presented herself to the world, and partly on the kind of casting she'd had in the past. Here was this intelligent, creative, beautiful woman who played eloquent, confident, sexual characters. I suspected that a lot of the guys she'd been with had fallen for the characters and had been either impatient with, or frightened of, Cheri the person, who could be mercurial, passionate, insecure-find me an actor who isn't, at least occasionally-needy, brilliant, theatrical, melancholy, and all the rest of it. In bed, maybe these guys expected Maggie the Cat, or May, or Olivia. Maybe they treated her like a whore, or a princess, rather than a woman. Maybe that was why she asked permission to touch herself during sex, and why she thought that somebody who loved her wouldn't want to...what?

I'd thought about bringing some of this up, but she was tired. Hell, I was tired. I said: "Here's the thing, Cher: you're the most generous, sensuous, passionate woman I've ever been with. Nothing we do in bed is ever going to change how I feel about you. I love you gentle, playful, romantic, slutty, rough, sweet, whatever. Just so long as it's you. Does that maybe answer your question?"

She nodded. I could feel the movement of her head against my chest. Then in a small, tired voice she said: "Take me to bed."

I put a hand under her knees, and another on her back. She tightened her grip on me, and I stood up, cradling her in my arms. Cherri Morganthal was tall and trim. There wasn't much excess weight on her, but that didn't make her easy to lift from a sitting position. I'd taken a little preliminary bounce off the old couch's cushions getting to my feet.

My Lady giggled. "I didn't mean you had to carry me, you goof."

"You want me to drop you?"

"No!"

"Then hold on tight, because I think the bedroom door is closed."

"Well, hell!"

104.

The bedroom door was closed, but fortunately not latched. I managed to nudge it open with my foot, without dropping my co-star. Then I laid her gently on the bed, with her head on one of her rose red pillow cases. I tried to stand up, but she kept her arms around my neck.

"Since you're being such a gentleman, would you mind undressing me?"

I thought about where undressing her might lead. "Cher, are you sure you want...?"

"Please?" Her eyes were half closed, but now she looked a little less tired, and a little more sultry. Her lips were slightly parted, and now I thought I could smell something besides sweat, shampoo, and what was left of her perfume. I thought...but I couldn't be sure. One step at a time. I reached for the buttons on her overshirt.

Cherri let her arms fall to her sides. I watched her breasts under the shirt rise and fall as I undid button after button. Okay. She shifted when I'd finished, so that I could pull the shirt off, leaving her in a t-shirt, bra, skirt, leggings, panties (I assumed,) and socks. Socks next. Easy enough. Then I reached for the waistband of her skirt. She lifted her backside off the bed so that I could get it off. The clothes she had left clung to her body like a second skin. My pulse quickened, I became aware of my breathing, and I could feel my cock stirring in my jeans. I stared at her tight black t-shirt and saw her round, ripe tits with their proud pink nipples. Without laying a finger on her, I could feel the softness of her breasts in my hands, and the roughness of her puckering areolas on my tongue. I looked down to see black yoga pants stretched over flared hips, long, smooth thighs, and gently curved calves. Shit. I was exhausted. I wasn't going to be able to...oh.

Well, apparently I was. If Cherri wanted to...either way, this wasn't going to get any easier.

I caught the waist of her yoga pants. Again she pushed up, and I peeled the pants down, and now...oh, fuck, I could smell her. And I could see a wet strip at the front of her lavender cotton panties.

Cherri smiled, sat up, and put her hands over her head. Off came the black t-shirt to reveal a matching lavender bra with smooth panels, which did nothing to conceal how hard her nipples were. She watched me staring for a few seconds, then in the same half tired-half amused voice she said:

"Take off my bra, please."

I reached behind her, and undid the clasp. She pulled the straps off her shoulders, and tossed it onto her nightstand.

"Now my panties."

She lay back with her head on the pillow, while I pulled her panties down. For a few moments she lay naked on the bedspread. I stared down at her, letting my eyes drift slowly up her body to her face. By the time our eyes met, we were both smiling. She got up slowly, and walked over to me.

"My turn." she whispered, and began to unbutton my shirt.

105.

When I was naked, Cherri turned to the bed, pulled back the duvet, and lay back down.

"Make love to me?"

"Cher, are you sure? I know it's late..."

"Uh huh. I don't care. I need you."

"Well...if you insist. Kiss first?"

She smiled up at me, and parted her thighs. "Yes, please."

I knelt on the bed between her legs, and positioned my cock along the slit of her pussy. Then I lay across her body, keeping some of my weight off her with my arms, and lowered my face to hers. I heard her sigh as her lips parted and our mouths met. I might have made a similar sound; wouldn't have surprised me. We'd never had to rehearse kissing each other. Hell, a couple of times, to the obvious embarrassment of Gil and Victor, we'd had to rehearse stopping. Now, my lips slid across hers, and for a while we just nibbled on each other. No rush. We didn't have to be at the theater until 1:00 tomorrow. That was a little more than ten hours away, and we'd get some sleep. Her mouth opened, and her tongue brushed mine. The noises she was making became more urgent, and my dick stiffened until I cocked my hips back, felt for her opening with the tip, and slid inside her slowly, the way I knew she liked it; the way that sometimes made her cum gently by the time I was all the way inside.

Cherri's mouth opened under mine, and I heard her breath catch, and felt her pussy spasm around my cock. "Uh...huh, huh...ahh." Nice to know a few of your lover's secrets.

As I began to thrust, slowly and evenly, Cherri's voice floated up to me on a whisper.

"I love you, Dai Brenner! I don't know why it's...so much easier to say...when you're...filling me up so-oh God-so good! But I do. I love you...with all my heart. And I'll...uh...uh huh, I'll...practice saying it when we're not...oooh, yes! Just be patient with me..."

I was rocking back and forth inside her slowly, so as not to finish too soon. But Cherri wasn't feeling gentle. Her hips rose to meet my thrusts, and the muscles in her vagina contracted over and over again, gripping my shaft, maximizing the delicious feeling of warm, wet flesh surrounding my dick. But in spite of everything, I was tired. Putting words together turned out to be kind of tricky.

"Cher...you've got to stop trying to...oh, damn, Sweetheart, you feel so...but you've got to stop trying to...I don't know...stick to some notion of how...shit, if you keep doing that...gonna lose my train of thought...of how things are supposed to be. You...oh yeah, yeah, just like that...you don't have to practice anything. As long as I...get to be with you...and, huh, uh huh, and...talk to you, and kiss you, and...everything else, I'm happy. You're...everything I ever wanted, without knowing that I wanted it...fuck, I'm not making any sense."

She stopped moving for a second and giggled. I felt the ripples of her laughter along my cock, and I grinned down at her. Must've been kind of a dopey grin, because she said: "Good, I like fucking you stupid."

I muttered: "Minx!" and then pulled my cock slowly back until it was almost out of her, and slid it back in, just as slowly. She moaned.

"Just...oh, just like that, don't speed up...tell me you love me too."

"I love you, Cherri Morganthal."

"I know you do. I know it! I think...actually I think I'm going to cum again if you keep doing that, but...what I meant to say was that...I think maybe it's easier for me...when...when...oh, God, when...uh! Huh, huh! Huh! Oh...yes, Dai, hold still for just a second, please, Lover! Huh! Yesss! Give me..." Then, when we'd both stopped moving: "Easier when you're inside me, because...our bodies...speak to each other. You know what I mean? Like our bodies knew before our minds, or maybe our hearts did. Ooh, starting again, you naughty...? Oh yeah...oh yeah! Harder! Do me harder, Baby! Your turn now. But do you know what I mean?"

"Maybe. I think at least part of me knew last summer."

"Oh, yeah? Which part?" The smile was back in her voice, and her inner muscles gripped me tight. "Maybe the part I feel kind of...swelling up in my hot, wet, tight little pussy?"

"Fuck, Cher, you're gonna push me right over the edge...."

"Do it, Sweetheart! Let it go for me! I want to feel you cum inside me! Come on, Baby...uh huh, uh huh, that's it..."

A final thrust, deep inside her, and my body froze as the cum poured from my cock in what felt like a continuous stream of pleasure. Somewhere beneath me, or around me, or...who knows where, I felt Cherri twitch, heard a series of small quick moans, then I was empty, and happy, and sleepy; fuck, was I sleepy. With what felt like the last strength in my arms, I let myself down to plant a quick, gentle kiss on my Lady's lips, and then I rolled off of her, and lay beside her, my eyes already closing.

Cherri said: "Spoons?"

I laughed-at least I thought I laughed; might have just been a couple of exhausted pants-and rolled over to snuggle against her back. She pushed back against me, and sighed. Then her breathing became even. That's the last thing I remember.