Joy on Stage Part

I woke up for breakfast and ate French toast that Miller made us. I had a few minutes to determine everything he knew, and it was just as bad as I had worried. While he knew there would be nudity in the play, he didn't know I would be appearing naked until Chuck brought home the add in his pervert flyer. Worse yet, Miller had already bought tickets for the show—he had called up when they first went on sale and bought them out-of-pocket, thinking it would be a nice surprise, supportive and all that. Very Miller of him.

"You can't come," I told him, and he seemed both surprised and wounded. "Look, I'm sorry, Miller, but this isn't like a regular play. I would be nervous as hell up there knowing you're out there." He ran his fingers through his beard and asked me what was so bad about someone I knew being in the audience—if I could stand up there for strangers, why couldn't he come to support me. "I know you're not a sex fiend, Mill..."

"Not a successful one," he said, but then he laughed away my squirrel-in-headlights look. "I bought those tickets because I've been to all your other shows and I wanted to be there for you. When you were in that Mamet play that sold out, I talked the box office into letting me stand in the wings by telling them I was your brother. I don't care if you're naked or not, Chels. I'm just a fan of yours. And you've been telling me how cool this play is—you know, I'm kind of hurt you didn't tell me about the nudity. I might have been able to make you feel better about it..."

"Enough. Let's just stop talking about it," I sighed. "I don't even have a big problem with you going, Mill, it's not that... you're cooler about this sort of thing than... you know who... but I can't let him—"

Chuck walked out of the hallway, and it was obvious he heard me talking. He was a little aloof, though playing it off as if he found it funny, which was his usual way of giving me the cold shoulder.

"Right. I forgot how holy and pure Miller is," he said, snickering as he went and started a pot of coffee.

Miller asked, "Want some French—"

"'Cause I couldn't

possibly

want to see this play because it's good and my friend is in it and I'm a nice guy. Only Miller would do that. I'm just a prick who shows up to make fun of you."

"I didn't say you would be there making fun of me," I had to defend, losing none of my antagonism, "but we both know you weren't planning on going to the play before you found this out."

"I was so."

"Miller's already asked me like six times for comp tickets, I told him I was trying to get them. I was kind of hoping I could just pretend I forgot—sorry, Mill, but you know..."

As he shrugged and tried to keep himself out of the argument, Chuck turned from the coffee machine and shook his head. "So it's okay if Miller comes but not me, 'cause I just couldn't be a good guy about it. Miller's your fucking friend, I'm just some asshole..." I tried to argue with him while not letting him guilt me when he knew very well he hadn't cared about the play before he saw the naked picture. I was right, and he knew it, but that only made him argue louder and harder. "I don't pretend I don't think you're cute. You're hot, Chels—Miller thinks so, too, but I just—I catch shit because I'm being myself. He pretends to be a big brother and all that garbage. But he would fuck you if got the chance—"

"Chuck, hey—don't be a prick."

"What you call being a prick is just me telling her the truth. If you two both want to pretend we're all

Three's Company

in here and nobody ever thinks about fucking someone else, you do what you want. But you're gonna punish me for it?"

"Well, you can get over your 'truth,' Chuck, because I'm not fucking Miller or you. I certainly don't want you coming to the—"

"You mean again," he said, and then I could tell he felt guilty for opening his big mouth. He looked at Miller, and neither of us was sure he caught it, but Chuck chose that moment to expurgate himself. "You mean you wouldn't fuck me

again

, Chels. Look, I'm sorry, but he deserves to know—"

"Oh, what an asshole you are..." Miller crossed his arms and glanced toward me and I had to nod. He asked when it happened, and I got the sense he was hopeful something had happened between us a long time ago. "It was... we both got pretty drunk the night of the underwear party," I told him, and I felt awful seeing his expression sink. "We didn't want you to know about it. We were both pretty embarrassed."

Chuck cleared his throat, but I shut him up with a look.

"It didn't really change anything between us," I said, as if it were a defense. "We haven't done it again or anything. I don't love him and he doesn't love me, of course. We just..."

"What do you think? I feel left out?" asked Miller, shaking his head. He couldn't disguise his hurt, but he did his best. "I just hope you guys don't end up messing everything up. You've always gotten along pretty well. If you're gonna kill each other, leave me out of it. It just... you know... sucks to be caught in the middle."

I made the excuse that I had to call Vaughn and it got me away from the table, but I had pissed off both of them. It seemed like it would have been a lot easier to just deal with them being in the audience. I hung up the phone when it was apparent Vaughn was still dodging me—what would I have said if I had gotten him on the line then? It was probably better I didn't, I didn't wake up that day with any talent for talk.

We had two shows that night, one at 6 and one at 10, which was going to make for a pretty long weekend. I really expected that I would be killing all my time around the shows with Vaughn, and the more I thought about it, the more depressed I got. If I hadn't already gotten out of working at the warehouse that day, I would have called in sick. I wished I could call in sick to the play, but that wasn't even thinkable.

The next weird thing to hit me was Walt taking me aside for a minute backstage to talk to me. He waved me into the men's dressing room, since Papa hadn't shown up yet, and we had some privacy.

"When you do your strip tonight, when you come over to me for the seduction...? You should go ahead and take my cock out." I looked at him as if he had a visible head injury. "For real. I think it'll look better."

"Walt... we've got the blocking down already... Rosemary said it was better to shock 'em in the second act." As far as shocking goes, Walt did that easy enough... he was big enough, but not scary-big. "If it didn't look good, I think they would have said something—"

"Just try it," he insisted, giving me his million dollar smile, very much like his famous father's. "Maybe it looks alright as it is, but I think the audience still has this sense of safety because they think you're not doing it. They won't be able to see much with your big head blocking me."

He made me laugh, was probably flirting with me more than a little, and it made me feel better. I don't think I would have agreed to it otherwise. Walt winked at me and I told him I'd see him out there.

We were out on stage, occupying our usual marks, and I didn't think about Walt half as much as I did Vaughn. Once I got started into my dialogue, I thought only about the show. The audience was very good, still a little stiff like the Friday night audience, but they laughed in the right spots. I got just enough of a sweep of the audience before the strip scene that I made sure Chuck and Miller hadn't made it to the show. It might have brought out more confidence in me than I expected, I kind undulated out of my panties instead of just taking them down. I looked into the audience with something like arrogance, seeing who was staring at my bald pussy.

"If a woman isn't meant to cum, why give her a clitoris at all?"

I liked getting a couple of laughs out of that, but most of them were frozen. Things didn't get better as I made my way to Walt and played up the sexiness, swinging my head around and letting the long hairs on top of my head flop about. I dropped to my knees, shifting my hips, flexing my buttocks, and I looked up at Walt to make sure we were both on the same page. He was caught with his best resistance face, well in character, but he bowed his head and gave me something I took as a nod. I unzipped him and held my breath. Somehow this seemed worse than anything I had done before. The sex scene had been nice and playful before, it sometimes got me a little hot, but I never had to deal with anyone else being naked. Sitting on this thing without

sitting

on it was going to be hard.

I worked his cock free and bobbed my head close to it, but not on it. It was hard, of course, preposterously close to my mouth, but I still worried that someone on the left side of the audience was going to be able to see it and compromise the illusion. I shouldn't have agreed to this, I thought, it worked better before. I looked up at Walt as he moaned and brought his head back to look at me shamefully. As he stared me in the eye, his cock twitched and smacked me on the cheek, which startled me and almost made me crack up, but I held a straight face.

As Walt delivered his last few lines of dialogue, I moved my head back and forth as if giving him a real workout, and something possessed me to flick out my tongue and touch him. God, that was stupid. I had a hard time resisting, it felt playful in the moment, but he had every right to accuse me of sexual misconduct if he were inclined that way. What Walt did instead was put a hand on my shoulder and squeeze, just to remind me that I had missed my cue. I stood up, maybe letting he audience see too much of him then, and straddled his lip. I had to push in close to him as I mimed putting his cock into me, and I sat so close to it that it was making me woozy feeling the heat from it. His balls were right between my legs and the base of his erection was pressed against my clit. My biggest problem wasn't staying in character as a carnal bitch, but not making any noise. I rocked against him with a lump in my throat, staring Walt in the eye in a way that brought us incredible new intimacy. Thank god the lights came down when they did.

He pinched my pussy with this thumb and forefinger, probably nothing more than retribution for licking him as I did, but he caught my clit momentarily, which made me say, "Fuck!" out loud. Some in the audience laughed, and then they broke out into slow applause. Hopefully they thought I stubbed my toe moving to my blocking in the dark. I got off of Walt and slapped his arm as he put his pants back on in a rush.

Taking a completely nude curtain call was the last thing I was obsessing over by the time we finished the second act. It had been good, although I felt off all through it.

I was following Papa out of the theater, we were all headed to the same place for a dinner Terry was picking up the check for, but I saw Walt smoking a cigarette and he waved me over.

"How did you feel about it?" he asked, smiling too knowingly.

"I wish we had made it a little more exciting," I joked. "I was afraid of falling asleep out there."

Walt took a drag on the cigarette and stared at me before letting the smoke seep out of his nose. God, there was nothing sexy about it, but I found it the sexiest thing ever. He really was a dream to look at. I had spent so much time intimidated by him, because of his father and his good looks, that I hadn't thought of him as attainable. But I started to feel like he was flirting with me.

"The play's ours now," he said, smiling. "Did you ever hear that? During the writing it belongs to the author, during the rehearsal it belongs to the director... but once it's on stage, it belongs to the actors."

"That makes sense. I guess." I tossed the loose red hairs of my modified Mohawk, shameless, I know, but I don't even know if I was aware I was flirting with him. "You didn't feel weird about it?"

"I felt great," he said. I nodded, smiling as I tried to strangle the smile back, and I started to try to catch up with Papa, but Walt said he would give me a ride.

The way he was grinning at me, displaying those perfect teeth of his, made me nervous. I decided to talk tough to fake my way out of the feeling. "What are you smiling about?"

He lost his smile, stepped closer to me, and whispered, "Put it in your mouth." I only stared at him, taking a shallow breath as I felt my skin grow goosebumps. "During the next show. Try putting it in your mouth." I tried to protest, but Walt stepped in, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me. His tongue swam around in my mouth in a way that I would have hated, if I had been in my right mind. I put my hand on his cheek thinking I might slap him, but I only pressed my fingers into his cheek. The razor burn was exquisite. "Don't fake it tonight. Take me in. Let's see if they can tell."

His hand pressed into my belly through my thin shirt, and just as I adjusted to that touch, he invaded my jeans, slid into my panties, and had a hold of me in a way that robbed me of my breath. I turned my face upward, stuttered out my breaths, and worried I might come on his fingers. I grabbed him around the wrist and pulled until he extracted himself, licking the ends of his fingers. Oh, I should've hated him, but he was sexy enough to do whatever he wanted.

"Does that... usually work on everyone?" I gasped out. I failed to sound as tough as I hoped.

"You tell me."

We went to the dinner and though I tried to sit away from him, Walt kept close to me. I didn't say much most of the night, there was far too much on my mind, but he was pretty casual as he told stories about his father and the run-ins he had had with celebrities. Everyone loved hearing him tell about who was a drunk, who was gay, and who was an unbelievable asshole. I didn't make eye contact with anybody very often, Michelle probably sensed something was wrong by the way she kept looking at me, but we didn't speak much.

The break ended and we had to get back into the spirit of the show. What had bothered me when I first came in that night? I honestly had to think about it to remember Vaughn had practically dumped me without a word, and I had also been worried about ruining things with Miller and Chuck. None of that seemed important right then. An actor in the show, I could even say

the

actor in the show, had a thing for me. He had asked me to blow him on stage—unless this was just the craziest misunderstanding ever. The thought of it made me feel dirty, but even as I objected to it, I couldn't help but feel sexy considering it.

I was out on stage, debating it, growing more sure I wasn't going to do it. My lines weren't getting as many laughs, but I think my delivery was weighed down by the fact my mind wasn't completely into it. I tried to pick it up as we approached the seduction scene. I read my lines, took off my bra, shook my breasts for the audience and maybe oversold the big laugh.

"

Beautiful titties!

"

Almost every time I had done that before I had actually been thinking about Michelle, turning that exchange into all about how Harry wanted Tracy, which is what it was, but suddenly I was conscious of people thinking of

my

tits as beautiful. I walked around the couch, stuck close to Walt, and I felt sexy in all my movements. I was going to take my clothes off for all these people. I was just playing a creature of pure id, I thought—my own id was rolling right over me.

I stripped out my panties for them with wide swings of my hips, let them gasp at me, and I delivered my "clitoris" line. I walked back to him with a more pronounced shake of my ass than earlier. I knelt between his knees as he protested.

I unzipped him. I brought him out—he was hard already, anticipating that I might do it.

"I mean... there's love out there, Joy. You don't understand that love is better than—"

Walt choked on his line as I took him between my lips and soaked him with my tongue. He huffed out a breath and several people laughed. It had to be fake, they thought, it was just well-choreographed. But I had Walt's cock in my mouth and was giving it my most talented treatment. After one sucking sound escaped, I had to be careful not to make any more noise. It might have been drowned in the audience's laughter, maybe not, but I wouldn't risk anymore. He was tripping over his lines as he got them out, but it probably only seemed like a great performance to the people watching us.

I was lost in the sex, thinking about our witnesses, but not the play, and Walt squeezed my shoulder roughly to get my attention back. I glanced up at him and delivered my line, then climbed up to straddle his lap. My lips were still wet and I leaned in to kiss him. My hand reached down and took hold of his cock, just moving my fingers along it for a minute as I considered the consequences of what I had on my mind. The lights started to dim.

I raised myself, positioned him in way that the audience might have been able to see it, which was not my intention, and then I lowered my wet pussy onto him. He was inside me. The lights were almost out and my breath was shaking terribly as I started to rock my hips on him, a much subtler but very real version of our usual performance. I was scared that Walt would freak out and force me away, break character or even stop the play, but I read correctly that he wanted me. I felt his cock throbbing inside me. Suddenly we were in the dark, and he began thrusting into me. I had to cover my mouth to keep from making much noise, but it was impossible to stifle altogether. The initial sounds of our sex made my heart stop, but Walt made as much noise as possible to cover up the rest, moans and shouts that were probably exaggerated, but it was working me up thinking they might not be.

We were fucking in the dark, my breath itself loud enough to give us away, close to tears as I worried I was doing something I could never recover from, but I wasn't going to stop myself. Walt groaned to the back seats as he came inside me, and I remember hearing one person laugh. I continued to ride him in the unnerving silence, picking up speed, hoping I could cum as well because I was so close, but he slapped my ass to get me up. I didn't stop until he did it again, then he whispered that the lights were about to come up.

I removed myself and Walt hurried to stand up and seat himself in his jeans again. I moved back to my spot in the shadows and began to panic as I felt his semen running down my leg. I collected it on my fingers in a rush and sucked it into my mouth, and it took two more attempts before I had most of it. The lights came up on me as I had my fingers in my mouth, but I left them there. It wasn't an entirely unnatural pose for a devil.

I had to get my head back into the show quickly, and it took some effort, but I did. For a moment all I wanted to think about was how I hadn't cum, but I told myself I could fix that later. We had already kept the blackout lasting two minutes beyond its usual time, everybody in the cast and crew knew something was off, but maybe the audience didn't suspect. My first lines came and I walked out with a bang. I would sometimes get back to my mark in the shadows before realizing there was a wetness on my thighs the audience might have noticed, but I could only hope they hadn't.

The taking of Tracy got a few strange laughs from this crowd, they were maybe weirdoes, I started to think. In that case, nothing we did in the dark would freak them out too bad. I went out there, grabbed Walt by his ass as he pretended to fuck her—yes, I did make sure that he was still faking that—and I pumped my hips forward lewdly in full display of everyone. I couldn't help but think right then that I would be happy to be part of a sandwich with Walt and Michelle. My head was all fucked up that night.