The Show 3

Note: this is a true story.

* * * * *

John was a graduate student studying English Literature when I met him. I was a senior studying business administration, and John had charmed me with his quick wit and his winning smile. We had met through mutual friends, and sparks had flown the moment we met, which was only a few months before. Our relationship was new, and we were still exploring each other, sexually and emotionally, the morning he called me at my apartment.

"Monica?" I heard his soft voice ask, "My brother has my car and I need a ride home after work tonight. Could I impose upon you?"

Still eager to spend as much time as I could with him, I agreed to pick him up at the theater.

One of John's passions in life was the theater. He had acted in several plays and he was currently working as stage manager for a local production of Macbeth.

At 11:30, I had finished changing into one of my nicer black dresses. I stood back to admire the results: the dress buttoned down the front, leaving a nice long slit at the front to show off my shapely legs. The dress' material clung softly to my curves, and I smoothed the front of it so I could show off my breasts, which were not large, but just big enough to have a touch of cleavage to show off. I wanted to look good for John, and I was planning to whisk him off to Valentino's for a couple of drinks before inviting him to my apartment.

I shrugged on my coat and stepped into the brisk winter air to my car. I drove downtown and turned into the alley that led to the back of the theater. I slipped into the back stage door and I was greeted with darkness. Blinking, I stood for several minutes until my eyes adjusted to the blackness.

"John?" I called softly.

There was no reply, so I fumbled my way along the wall until I saw a light. Blinking again, I followed the beam of light until I discovered its source. Momentarily stunned by the brightness, I stood there a few seconds until I realized that the light was a spotlight and that I was standing on the stage. Shielding my eyes and squinting, I looked around for any sign of John. I waited, a bit embarrassed to be so exposed, so public.

A speaker crackled. I jumped, startled at the sudden noise, and I heard John's voice over the sound system.

"Monica? I'm in the sound booth. I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm the last one here and there are a few things I need to put away before I lock up."

I relaxed knowing we were alone. I was feeling a bit warm in the bright spotlight, so I unbuttoned my coat and shrugged out of it, tossing it to one side.

"Wow," came John's voice on the speaker, "you look lovely tonight."

Smiling, I pirouetted and turned slowly, showing off my trim figure. The speaker crackled again, and soft jazz music began to play. I moved my hips to the rhythm of the music, and the spotlight moved to center on me.

I giggled coyly and started to move more suggestively. The spotlight started to follow my every move. I unbuttoned the top button on my dress and leaned forward, flashing my cleavage towards the sound booth.

"Oh my...." John's voice gasped.

Spurred on by his appreciative tone, I unbuttoned another button. Then another. One more. Until my dress hung open. I turned my back and looked over my shoulder, smiling sweetly at my sound booth audience.

And I let my dress fall to the floor.

I stood for a moment, letting John see me there in my black satin bra and panties and my thigh-high stockings and heels. The music rose in volume, and I began to sway. Turning to face the front, I reached up between my breasts and unhooked the bra. I leaned forward, teasing John with a glimpse of the soft skin and the sweat trickling between my breasts. I slowly parted the bra, throwing my head back as the bra slithered off my shoulders, and I tossed it to one side.

I chuckled softly as I heard the door to the sound booth slam and John's footsteps hurry to the front of the theater. He stopped at the front of the stage, gaping.

"God, honey, you are amazing," he blurted and slumped into one of the front row seats, mesmerized by his private show.

Feeling bold now, I leaned forward, and let my breasts hang in front of him, licking my lips and smiling. The music continued, and I stood to dance again. I grabbed a chair from the side of the stage and placed it in the center of where the spotlight had stopped, and I sat down. I lifted my leg up, letting my shoe fall, and began to peel my stocking from my leg. Dropping the first stocking, I lifted my other leg and slowly removed the other stocking.

I stood in the hot light, still swaying to the music, and reached down to slide my hands over my hips, thrusting them suggestively towards John. I turned my back and bent over, winking at him from between my legs before standing again. I turned again until my side was to him, and looked at him from behind a curtain of hair, letting my fingertips slide into the waistband of my panties. As I started to pull one side down, I heard a thud and I saw John scrambling onto the stage, pulling his shirt over his head.

I chuckled again and pulled him close to me, kissing him passionately and pressing his bare chest onto mine. I moved him back to the chair and, pushing him gently on the chest. He fell back onto the chair, startled to find himself seated before me. I sat down on his lap, and kissed him, sliding my hands over his belly and down to his waist. I unfastened his pants and slid off his lap. I could feel his hips rise and in one smooth motion, I had slipped his pants and his boxers off, and ended up kneeling in front of him.

John gasped as I parted his legs and moved closer until I could feel his balls gently pressing into my belly. I grinned up at him and bent slightly, letting my hair brush over his thighs and over his erect cock.

"Monica," he whispered, "what on earth has gotten into you?"

Smiling up at him I replied, "You, my darling."

And I bent to lick the tip of his erection. He shuddered and began to stroke my hair, moaning softly when I took his warm cock deeply into my mouth. I sucked gently, thrilled to hear the appreciative sounds emitting from his throat.

After several long strokes with my mouth, I could feel John begin to thrust his hips, driving his warm erection deep into my throat. I began to move to his rhythm, and my hands slid around to caress his thighs. He moaned softly and I reached down to touch his balls, grazing my fingernails lightly over them.

John cried out. It was an incoherent, desperate sound that thrilled me, and made me ache for him. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from him.

"I want you," was all he could say.

I smiled and he slid my panties off, burying his face into my belly, kissing it hungrily.

I straddled his lap and looked into his eyes. He gazed up at me with a look of half amazement, half lust.

I slowly lowered myself onto his lap, letting his hard, warm cock slide into me. I could feel the warmth of the hot spotlight on my back and I could still hear music. I closed my eyes and began to move myself on his erection, slowly rocking my hips to the rhythm of the saxophone melody playing on the sound system.

John groaned again. His hands reached up to cup my breasts, and I sighed in pleasure as he rolled my nipples between his fingers. I closed my eyes and let the waves of pure sensation wash over me. Each time I pushed him into my pussy, I could feel the waves get stronger and more urgent. I closed my eyes and cried out, letting the imminent orgasm take hold of my control. John whispered my name, his voice hoarse with desire. He trembled slightly, feeling my muscles contracting around his rod, over and over.

This was enough to send him over the edge, and he let himself go, pumping his cum deep into me as we both cried out.

"Oh god, Monica," he said again, his voice thick with lust, "I know you aren't finished..."

I was still gasping, my muscles still contracting from the intensity of my orgasm. So I didn't understand the implications of his statement until he picked me up and lowered me onto the stage floor. I lay there with the hot light in my eyes and cried out in surprise as John smoothly and quickly lowered his head onto my still tingling pussy.

His tongue slid down, brushing over my lips and finding my clit. I whimpered as he deftly inserted two fingers into my pussy, and his tongue flicked over my clit, again and again. The swiftness of the sensations combined with the tail end of my last orgasm caused my back to arch and my body to slip into another delicious oblivion. I writhed on the stage, gasping and crying out.

When at last the orgasm subsided, and I was left panting and sweating, John gave one last lazy lick and looked up at me and smiled.

"Are you finished?" he grinned.

I laughed softly and pulled him to me, kissing him wetly and tasting my saltiness on his mouth.

We rose and gathered our clothes together, dressing slowly between kisses and fondles. I sat in the chair that was still centered in the spotlight while I watched John pull his shirt over his head.

"Are you ready to go, darling?" I asked, rising to put my coat on.

And as John walked to the edge of the stage towards the sound booth, we heard a sound. The echoing, unmistakable sound of applause.

John froze.

He looked back at me, mortified, while I strained to see who was out there in the darkness.

By the time he had gone back to the booth to switch on the house lights, we were again alone. Alone with the knowledge that we had just given a private performance.

I stood and took a bow.