Opera Night

This was on a dare by a friend to see if I could write a Period Piece. Judge for yourself if I succeeded. Enjoy!!

*****

Even an hour before curtain, the backstage area was utter chaos. The count stopped for a moment in the shadows to simply watch. For a supposedly enlightened time, a time that promised so much from the new automobile to electricity, it was still amazing to see how people returned to back-biting and squabbling so very easily. The actors yelled at the crew, the crew yelled at them and each other, and the stage manager yelled at everyone that he was going to go mad. Through it all, no one seemed to notice him standing there in the shadows, observing them. As much as his curiosity wanted him to stay there and take note of the interactions between them all, he had another place to be, and soon. He moved from the shadows, staying out of the way of the cast and crew. Those few who did see him recognized who he was and let him pass, unobstructed. Being nobility did have it's benefits after all.

The cacophony of voices assaulted his ears, a mix of languages that had him remembering all the lessons of his youth. Of course, there was an abundance of clipped British accents, but there were others also. Standing beside a side curtain, a young understudy berated a costumer in French, using language usually reserved for the coarsest of sailors. The costumer was giving as good as she was getting, although in Italian. The leading stalked past, muttering to himself in German. The count smiled to himself at the imprecations of what the leading man was saying, knowing that what he described was physically impossible, but an amusing mental image none-the-less. He continued on his way, his destination now in sight. The door he was searching for lay straight ahead. Looking around to ensure that there was no one nearby, he sidled up to it and, with one last glance, opened the door and slipped inside.

The dressing room was cramped and full to overflowing with various costumes. Even for the star of the show and renowned singer, the room was small out of necessity. The theater itself wasn't that large and space was at a premium. Unlike most divas, however, this one took having such a small room with grace and not a little humor. She knew that her peers would have not stood for it and destroyed the place before refusing to work in such conditions. The count knew all of this from his conversations with her. He had met her after production one night and had quickly become entranced with her quick mind and sharp wit. Several times, they had met after the curtain closed, but earlier this day, he had received a note from her asking to meet him before the curtain went up for a "private conversation". He could only guess at what she meant by "private". It was well known among certain circles that the lady was, for lack of a better term, quite lusty. The possible implications of which had his breeches tightening, for she not only had a very intelligent mind and glass shattering voice, but was undeniably beautiful and voluptuous as well.

Shutting the door softly behind him, the count looked through the small room, but saw no trace of the diva. He began to think that he had read the note wrong and was not supposed to be here when he heard her voice from outside the door, loudly cursing another member of the cast, her understudy from what the count could deduce. Quickly, he stepped behind a rack of costumes before the door could open. Through the clothes, he saw the door swing open and the diva step through, tossing one last, biting comment over her shoulder in Italian. Slamming the door closed, she spun on one heel and stalked to the tiny vanity. The dike watched as the robe she was wearing fluttered loosely at the top, giving tantalizing glimpses of her bare breasts underneath.

Moving back around the rack of clothes, he deliberately scuffed his feet on the floor to let her know he was there. Her head whipped around and her eyes locked with his, bright and full of fire. Within seconds, she recognized him and the fire in her eyes changed from anger at the intrusion to that of arousal. No words passed between them as he stepped up to her, they both knew why he was there. She reached out and pulled him close, tilting her head up with heavy lidded eyes and her full lips parted. The look on her face was all that it took for him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he crushed her lush body against his and bent his head to claim her mouth with his. He slid his tongue past her lips to tangle with her tongue. She curved her body into his and beneath his breeches, his manhood grew hard and pressed into her belly. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair as their passionate kiss continued. Knowing that they didn't have much time, he pushed away and undid the knot that held her robe closed. The material fell away revealing a set of petticoats and nothing else. Sliding the robe from her shoulders, her voluptuous breasts came into view, the nipples rigid and straining at the air. Palming one in each hand as the robe fell to the floor, he leaned in and began to rain kisses all over her mounds before settling on her nipples. While he occupied himself with suckling her, she quickly untied the drawstring holding her petticoats in place and pushed them to the floor.

With her completely naked before him, the count pushed her back to the vanity, setting her on the edge and propping one leg on the chair before it. Without any preamble, he dropped to his knee and, taking a creamy thigh in each hand, guided his tongue unerringly to the vee between her legs. Moisture beaded along her lips as he swiped from the bottom to near the top, avoiding touching her sensitive button. Time and time again, he ruthlessly teased her until she moaned out his name. With that one sound, his mouth came up and his lips surrounded her clit. The diva's back arched and she leaned back against the vanity's mirror, one hand coming up to massage her breasts, her other hand tangled in his hair. Sucking her nub into his mouth, he flicked at it while delicately dipping his fingers between her folds. He slipped two fingers into her and felt her muscles contract around them.

He renewed his onslaught and soon she was gasping from the ministrations of his lips and tongue. With a strong buck of her hips off the vanity and a muttered oath in French, her orgasm flooded over his fingers. The diva's inner muscles clenched down and her body tightened in the throes of her climax. Relentlessly, he continued to work her over with lips, tongue, and fingers until all she could do was shudder. Finally, she grabbed the count by his hair and pulled him up to kiss him once more, her juices still bathing his face. Foregoing his tunic, her hands went straight for the belt holding up his breeches. Working quickly as they kissed, she undid the belt and breeches, pushing them to the floor. His iron hard manhood jumped free and slapped into her palm. She stroked the length of it several times before breaking their kiss and dropping to her knees before him.

With a quick lick of her lips and holding the base in one hand, the diva leaned in enveloped the head in her mouth. Using a gentle suction, she drew the entire of his cock in until her lips touched the base. Resting there for a moment, he could feel her working her throat muscles around the tip. Letting his head roll back, he moaned from deep within his own chest. Slowly, she drew back until just the very end was still in her mouth, then sank down again. Bobbing up and down, she reached around and caressed his ass cheeks, pulling him in even further. After only a few moments, he knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Gripping her shoulders he pulled her back to her feet and yanked her close, their bodies molding together and he passionately kissed her once more.

Suddenly, he spun her around to face the mirror and pressed her upper back until she was bent over, hands on the vanity. The count looked down for a moment and admired the swell of her hips tapering out from her waist. He grasped the base of his shaft and placed it at the entrance, just past her swollen lips. Even at that point he could feel the heat radiating from her and ached to simply thrust himself all the way in. He managed, however, to control himself long enough to slowly plunge all the way into her canal, her warmth and wetness pulling at him. The diva pressed her hips back against him. He stroked in and out, building speed even as he could feel his climax bubbling just under the surface. He slid his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, her rigid nipples pressing into his palms.

Dimly, in the background, he heard someone call out 30 minutes to curtain, but that paled in comparison to the sensations flooding over him. Deeper and harder he drove himself into her, pushing them both to the edge, then over. A guttural cry of ecstasy burst forth from his lips as he thrust once more and his orgasm exploded from him. Wave after wave tore through him even as he felt her muscles milking him and her cries echoed his. Together, they rode out their mutual climaxes until there was nothing left and they were totally spent. He fell away from her, collapsing to the floor, while she sat down heavily in the chair.

Showing an amazing speed for recovery, after only a few moments, the diva began to fix her make-up. Within only a short time, she had applied her make-up and gotten into costume, ready to go onstage. Beyond the door, someone yelled out that it was 5 minutes to curtain. The diva checked herself one last time in the mirror, leaned down to kiss the count on the cheek, whispered in his ear to stick around after the performance, and breezed out the door. The count say there, still dazed by this incredible woman.