1:30
Soft opening. The work lights are off, and it’s dark backstage. I’ll definitely need some help. “I can do it in ninety,” I had said confidently, but I had no idea the sophistication of this costume. Trying it on with two wardrobe assistants in a well-lit dressing room and this are such totally different experiences as to not even merit comparison.
The stage hand who got assigned to help was waiting for me in the wing. I gulped when I saw them. They are so hot, and I’m about to be naked in front of them? Just a few feet away, I feel the resonant voices of those I admire, and in my core the butterflies that accompany the moments before any performance.
“Don’t worry,” they say, clearly sensing my anxiety. “I know a shortcut.”
From the moment I pass through the curtains I feel their hands on me. Even as I think this they’re unfastening each and every button, toggle, and buckle necessary to slip the whole thing past my shoulders. No time is wasted.
“You’re fast.”
“Quieter,” they whisper.
I nod, “Right.”
“Nervous?”
“Definitely.”
1:22
Once my corset was removed, my dress did not fall as expected, so they did something quite unexpected. With a sharp pull of each well-placed hand, the stitches over my shoulders popped apart perfectly. As the garment dropped, every bit of metal and wood was cushioned by the ample fabric and grandiose petticoat.
“I’ll fix it while you’re out there.” I stood now in nothing but my underwear. They leaned toward me instead. Breath alone formed the words in my ear, “You want some help relaxing?”
I know what they mean. We have eighty seconds left. “Uh…”
“Tick tock, lovely.” They lift my feet one at a time and brush the dress aside, then snatch the trousers off their table and hold them while I place my foot in each one. I feel like I shouldn’t need this much help, but there is too much happening for me to focus. They are really, really hot. I have been obsessed since I first saw them. This doesn’t seem like the time, though. We don’t have the time. We can’t talk… It’s not me.
1:07
Their hand brushes my thigh as they help me dress. Sharp, gentle nails scratch against my skin so gently it feels like a kiss. “Yes.”
They know what I mean, but they ask anyway, “Yes, what?”
“Yes, help me relax. Please.”
They don’t respond with words. Instantly, their hand slips between the trousers and my panties, and touches me all but directly. I am wet already, and the lace grinds on my clit as they touch me. Their technique is expert.
0:55
Anxiety, sensation, excitement, boundaries, and sex, all collapse in on themselves like a dying star. For a moment, they are one. The feeling they’re bestowing on me is unlike anything I’ve known. Their apparent confidence in making me cum so quickly may itself get the job done. My skin is hot. Beads of sweat begin to form.
Fingers fly with seemingly telepathic precision, hitting each tender, sensitive, nervous place just exactly right. I’m not even thinking about the stage. They truly are draining the tension from my body and mind. “You’re…” I start but must pause, “You’re amazing.”
“I know,” they say, “But how good am I?”
“Very good.”
“Am I getting you close?”
0:37
As my silent gasping turns to mild hyperventilation, my breath becomes shrill. “Yes!” I whisper the exclamation as quietly as possible.
“Quiet!” they remind me.
“I don’t know if I…” ‘Can be’. I can’t say the last words aloud, but they know.
“Then bite me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Say it again.”
“Bite me.” They slide my panties to the side, place their thumb on my clit, and slip two fingers inside. “When you cum.”
0:28
With the stimulation on my clit and my g-spot, it only takes seconds, and I do exactly as I was told. Just as I can’t stay quiet anymore, I press my lips to their neck, kiss, then bite hard. They gasp through their nose in response – the loudest sound they’ve made yet.
They whisper “Hold on.”
I do. Pulling them close, I whisper “Fuck!” as my diaphragm shakes with anticipatory ecstasy, “I’m gonna cum!”
“Yes, baby. Just relax.”
It starts. The spasming of my throbbing clit gives way to weakness in my knees. The pleasure inside of me gives way to pain behind my eyes. My back arches so far they have to hold me up. Staying quiet is a challenge, but one I am reveling in. When every nerve in my body finally sings, my breath returns to me, and they gently begin to release their grip on my body.
“Better get you dressed.” I hear the smile in their voice.
0:17
This rush is exhilarating. As they lace up my boots, I fling my shirt over my head. While I refresh my makeup in a tiny, barely lit mirror, they buckle my belts and slip my naked sword into its frog. I take a few final, deep breaths while they button my shirt.
Good… A few seconds left. I reach out to them, but before I touch, I ask “May I?”
They moan in return, so I keep going. Not knowing what I’m about to find is really fucking hot. More to the point, not caring. I’ve always found myself to be completely straight, but right now, I don’t even know what that means.
“Not now,” they say reluctantly, “There’s no time.”
“But…”
“After the show. Come home with me tonight.”
“O-Okay.” I stumble over the word, filling now with a whole new anxiety.
“Go. Get on stage!”
With a kiss on my neck and a gentle tap of my ass, they push me through the heavy velvet barrier separating wing and stage.
0:00
I emerge into the semi-blinding lights. Facing down the packed house, I smile, take a deep breath and say…
