Chapter 8
The next day produced another successful rehearsal. I was extremely pleased that everything was falling into place so nicely. It was a reflection on my job, and even Carla seemed to be cooperating. Something was brewing between Carla and one of the chorus girls, but thus far it appeared nothing more than typical jealousy and squabbling between two healthy egos. With Carla on good behavior, my job security swelled.
Josh Leamon, the director, had to fly off to California the morning after we opened, so he was throwing a party for the entire company tonight. That fact may just have kept everyone in line. There weren't any surprises from the crew, no mooning or flashing. Even the headset conversation was actually quite tame. No one mentioned the orgy in the prop room, although Bobby intimated that he had recently encountered one of the best sexual experiences of his life. He didn't expound, and no one prodded him into revealing any great detail. I was thankful.
Everyone knew the party was going to be quite the affair when Josh informed us that he had hired several limos to transport we inner-city folk out to his "place" on Long Island. "Place" is hardly the best word to describe his rambling mansion. Josh obviously was very well off and like to surround himself in luxury.
When the limo picked up the last of its six assigned passengers, we were instructed to help ourselves to the fully stocked bar. This group didn't have to be told twice. Soft music floated in the air. Unfortunately, it made me feel like I was trapped in an elevator, a captive to tamed versions of rock classics compliments of Muzak. But the level of excitement soon banished the hushed strains beneath giggles and titters. We acted like the cheerleading squad off to the big Homecoming dance, our football team dates awaiting our arrival, our hopes for necking and petting high on the list of priorities.
We arrived in style and put a lid on our girlish hysteria. The place was impressive even from the outside. But the real treat lay within. Every room was a decorator's delight, everything coordinated in perfect harmony. Paintings and sculptures populated each room in just the right numbers. There were not so many that you couldn't appreciate each one, not so few that you felt compelled to study one in great detail before moving on to the next. And each was touched with eroticism, sometimes subtle, never blaring or boldly pornographic. It seemed Josh had an astute eye for the sensual, the suggestive.
Very shortly, everyone had arrived in all their finery, dressed to kill, sported appropriate attire for such a fancy gathering. I felt underdressed in my tailored suit, even though I had. forgone the wearing of a blouse, the double-breasted jacket crossing respectably over my chest to conceal my bra and still allow a bit of cleavage for the wandering eye.
I felt like a nun when I spotted Carla. Her sequined dress clung to her curves like a thick coat of paint. Floor length, wrapped tightly around her legs so she shuffled more than walked. It was slit up one side and just stopped short of the crease between her long legs and rounded butt. There was no back to the dress and dipped so low you could almost see the beginning of her asscrack. And she had to have the front of the thing taped to her tits. Strapless, cut just above the puckered circles of her nipples, there was no other possible way to hold the thing up. The cups sewn into the dress raised her tits, somehow kept them from smashing into each other to form a gorge between them the size of the Grand Canyon. Randy would have been pleased, no panty lines showed beneath the fabric, and Carla was presumed naked beneath.
Everyone drank and ate and talked about the lavishness of Josh's lifestyle. It was a fabulous spread with flowing champagne and a buffet piled high with exquisite cuisine. It was a great party until ...
"You fucking, flat-chested bitch!" Carla screamed above the huddled conversation. "I'll rip those falsies right off you goddamned chest and cram 'em up your cunt, if you've even got one!"
A hush fell over the crowd, the silence total. All eyes focused on Carla, her face a seething mass of hatred as she glared at the trembling chorus girl. She emptied her champagne glass into the girl's face. Everyone gasped.
The spunky girl returned the favor, golden champagne streaking over Carla's reddened cheeks. Two glasses flew into the air. The fight was on.
We all gathered around them, formed a giant circle, but no one stepped in to stop the battle. We were in the ballroom, the band silenced at the outburst, and the combatants had plenty of open space.
Carla pushed the girl to the wooden floor and marched past her, a seemingly easy victory. But the girl refused to be so swiftly defeated. She latched on to Carla's ankle and pink sequins soon sprawled across the floor. A steady stream of profanity shattered the silence as they tumbled and jostled each other about.
I tried to get to them, but a strong arm held me back. The crowd suddenly erupted into cheers and applause, dividing themselves into two camps, half in support of Carla, half egging the chorus girl on.
Carla somehow managed to get back to her feet, one shoe on, one off But the girl was quickly working her way up Carla's legs, her hair a dishevelled mess. Carla pried at her hands, but the girl continued her stead ascent, raised herself to her knees, locked her forgers to the top of Carla's dress. The girl just threw herself back, the fabric held firmly in her grip. Carla screamed as tape stretched out her tits, then abruptly ripped away. The top half of her dress doubled at the waist, baring her breasts to the screaming crowd. Bright red marks travelled across her heaving chest where the tape had been yanked away.
Carla threw herself on top of the girl and tore at her clothes, a second set of small tits flashing beneath a lacy bra. Carla kept at it. The girl now raised Carla's skirt to display bare, clenching buns to roaming, appreciative eyes.
That's when Blayne broke through the crowd and rushed into the melee. He was quickly downed by clutching fingers, became tangled in a mass of writhing arms and legs. Carla's dress was first to give way, the material ripping and falling away from her nude body. She ignored her stripped condition and continued to grab for an fabric she could lay her hands on.
Clothes flew into the air, Blayne's coat, the girl's bra, a shirt, a skirt. The crowd whooped and hollered as more and more naked flesh thrashed around, became exposed to their prying eyes. Hails of laughter consumed the crowd as two falsies rolled out from beneath the struggling bodies. No one else even attempted to break them up; all eyes feasting on the titillating battle.
I focused my attention on the two hairy legs flopping around the floor, Blayne stripped to his shorts, his pants bunched around his shoes and socks. I was almost disappointed when Josh stepped into the fray, thinking he would finally stop this insanity. Instead, he removed Blayne's shoes, his socks; and stripped away his pants, he himself almost dragged into the center of the writhing bodies.
It wasn't long before all three were completely naked, the roar from the crowd deafening. They rolled around the floor, one set of hairy buns meeting my eye from time to time, two sets of tits and pussies jiggling and pumping. It seemed less and less of a war, and more and more of an orgy as the three stopped messing around and began to massage and caress. The screams turned to sighs and moans and the two women flattened Blayne to his back.
He faced me and I almost fainted. I finally had a clear shot at his fully exposed, flaccidly lounging dick. I drank in as much detail as possible before it was removed from my startled vision. And what a beauty it was! Thick. Long. Propped up by a mound of brown hair. The huge helmet of a head damn near kissed his hip as it snaked across his crotch. The thin seam on the underside of his still soft manhood began at the line of his circumcision and trailed the full length of his white meat to disappear around a scrotum that was smooth and full.
Long, brown hairs caressed his balls in a furry blanket. He opened his legs, wriggled his hips, and his cock flopped down between them, reaching to the bottom of his balls. His dorsal vein, raised and slightly blue against his white skin, curved in a seductive trail that forced the eye down to the corona of his cockhead, up and over to feast on the tiny slit so perfectly centered in its mass.
But blond hair and an open mouth removed perfection from sight. Not even one of the cocks in my dream could compete with Blayne. They paled shamefully in comparison. Carla's head obscured my view, claimed Blayne's crotch for herself.
My cunt pounded, demanded that Blayne's cock be slammed deep into its moistening interior. My legs trembled, my body quivered around a pulsing pussy. I felt light-headed and faint. The room swirled as jealousy ate at my heart. Blayne's crotch was fully in Carla's mouth, her legs spread to receive the girl's face in her own, while a second pussy sat on Blayne's head. Whatever had started the fracas was now forgotten as the three dove into heavenly eating.
Strong arms caught me as my legs buckled beneath me, the sight of Blayne's massive member too much to bear, too disheartening to view and not to have. I stared at the top of Carla's head as it rode up and down, tried to imagine the whopping size of Blayne's erection, to feel it between my own desirous lips. I paid no attention to the arms wrapped around my chest, to the hands gripping and squeezing my breasts. I concentrated on the three way happening before me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people pairing off, hands exploring each other's bodies as they watched in fascinated, voyeuristic pleasure.
Carla lifted up and Blayne's raging erection stood proudly before the mesmerized crowd. Saliva trickled down its length, collected in the tiny well where cock met balls, just before it slammed into his abdomen with a mighty smack, bounced and bobbed in throbbing excitement. Though the wonderfully thick shaft sat firmly in place, the now swollen purplish head wobbled and gurgled in thundering thuds, clear fluids inching out of the parted slit.
Carla's hand straightened the object of her lust as she extracted her pussy from the girl's mouth and turned herself around. She impaled herself on the huge stake. The girl buried her face between Carla's jostling tits, slid her pussy across Blayne's open mouth.
Hands raised my skirt and dove beneath the top of my pantyhose, searched out my hairy slit. I didn't resist, my eyes glued to the captivating threesome putting on the frenzied and uninhibited show for the entranced crowd. I swamped the fingers that invaded my crotch as I watched Blayne's nuts collide in ecstasy as he fucked the living daylights out of Carla. He slammed into her, his hips raising his tightened ass from the floor, sending waves of shock through Carla's rippling bottom.
But my attention was abruptly jerked away as a finger found its way into my expanding hole, pinched together fingertips which slowly opened, stretched and fought my circular muscle. They journeyed forth until I held the first knuckle of the exploring forgers. Then the hand moved faster. I held my breath as a fleeting spasm coursed up from my cunt. I forced myself to relax, regulated my breathing in a normal, steady pattern. I took more of the finger, felt it deep inside me and felt it begin to rub my clit.
A cock rose up against my ass as the man's arm clasped my waist and pulled me into his fevered body. Clothes kept me from knowing the heat of intimate bodily contact, but not from experiencing the heat of his finger laying claim to my rapidly growing box. The velvet lining of my pussy closed around him, wrapped his finger in a tight embrace of welcoming desire.
He began to pump within me, my sexlips kissing the last of his knuckle, accepting the full extension of his probing finger. Gently, sliding in, slipping almost out, he worked my cunt into a lather of lust. I found myself helping him, my feet pushing against the floor to raise and lower my box with increasing speed. Blayne's fingering had been good, but this was better.
The scene in the center of the ballroom had shifted. Carla still drove herself atop Blayne's humongous tool, but the girl had come around to get in a few good licks each time its length was exposed. She dropped to his nuts each time it was covered by Carla's drooling snatch. They kept Blayne's crotch completely covered, letting me drown myself in my own enjoyment without worry of missing the sight of the most coveted cock my eyes had ever encountered!
The man angled himself behind me so his arm stretched out straight between my legs. I looked down at the back of his head and couldn't attach a face to the action. But that was the least of my concerns.
His hand started an upward climb, reached the opening of my cunt as, hairy fingers tickled my cervix. My inflamed hips pushed the cold metal of his wristwatch along his arm as he fed more and more finger in my explosively greedy flesh.
As I pulled up, he pulled down. Then he paused, letting me become accustomed to the feel of a full packed pussy. He took that as his cue. He fucked me slowly, gently pressed against the back of my box before sliding back between cream-drenched walls. The touch of his flesh against my cunt produced an unending flow of warm fluids to grease his ride. I couldn't believe I was being fucked this well by a forger. It was beyond my comprehension. And in a crowd of friends, no less! It boggled my mind.
My attention was split between two equally needed objectives. I desperately wanted to capture every fleeting glimpse of Blayne's cock to log it into masturbatory memory in case I never again received the opportunity of gazing upon his magnificent staff. I also wanted to savore every stimulating moment of my well-executed finger-fuck. Faced as I was, I felt confident I could achieve both of my libidinous goals, the crowd obscured, my concentration keenly focused.
I moaned and sighed as much from the frigging as from the frolicking threesome bucking and gyrating in front of me. Their actions were exploding into a variety of positions and combinations. Their individual pleasures were driving them into a fevered investigation of aroused and pulsing bodily parts. Blayne's cock was flashed and then hidden. I almost fainted from one particular position that glorified Blayne's finest at-tributes. He was on all fours, his ass pointed towards me, his face buried in the chorus girl's cunt. Carla straddled his back, her hands pulling his legs apart, her hands sliding up to part his hair asscrack. I gasped as his pink hole opened for me, sat rosy and round in a circle of dark brown curls. His massive balls hung freely between his muscularly slender thighs, swung forward and back as his cock rocked in front of him, shooting quick glances of a drooling head. The view was magnificent and much, much too brief. Carla's blonde hair lowered toward his balls and I could only assume that her tongue tasted the salty succulence. Envy almost overcame me.
With the picture snapped and filed away for future reference, I returned to the tremors shaking my body in eruptions of arduous passion. My lover, whomever he was, strained and contorted to keep his internal rhythm on a straight and driving course.
The combination of sight and touch had me ready to explode, to dump, an orgasm in an uncontrolled fury of electrified lust. Others were getting off as well; the smell of overworked pussy and fresh cum heavy in the air. That activated the third of my senses. My own sighs drowned out all others, and though wanted, taste was beyond my present reach.
I suddenly became aware of my dangling arms and threw my hands onto my tits, rolling and flattening them against lungs which pumped and gasped. My nipples immediately hardened.
I suddenly raised to the tips of my toes as my body detonated, exploded in a passion induced eruption. The faucets of my shower opened full blast, engulfed my lover's probing and sliding finger. His finger maintained its pounding beat of an exercised heart, raised the fever of my expulsion by a hundred degrees. I shook violently, the sensitivity overwhelming as the finger escaped my slit. I heard slurping behind me as my unknown lover lapped up the juices from my soppy, satisfied cunt.
"What do you think of my pinkie?" my mystery man asked.
"Your pinkie, your forger--" I stopped as I connected a face to the voice. "Dave?" I turned my head to face the master electrician, Dave of follow spot fame.
"I'm not sure my cock could satisfy as well as my fingers, but it might be nice to find out."
"I thought you didn't like groups."
"Do you see anyone watching us? They're into their own thing. I'm still a one-on-one kinda guy."
"Are you trying to tell me your cock is as good as that wonderful finger?" I recalled the feel of his erection against my ass and knew it to be bigger than my pinkie, but doubted it could be as good as that meaty finger.
"No, but I'll keep you guessing for now," he said, his hand adjusting the meat in his crotch, keeping me from seeing exactly how much was there.
An excited scream drew my attention back to the center of the ballroom and our performing trio. Some-one must have cum, or something, for all three laid sprawled out on their backs. Blayne's cock was again soft and resting comfortably over his balls.
Poor Blayne must have suddenly come to the startling realization of where he was, how he was dressed, and exactly what he had been doing. He made a mad dash for his pants. His lovely buns bobbed up and down as he scrambled across the slick floor and quickly climbed into protective clothing, removed the source of my devilish grin.
He retrieved the rest of his clothes as my focus returned to the two still naked ladies. Carla glared at the other girl, shooting daggers from cold, blank eyes.
"You conniving little slut!" Carla hissed. "You stole his cum right right out from under me!" She raised herself up, prepared to pounce.
But the girl was quicker. She grabbed a handful of Carla's pubic hair, slid her free arm under Carla's rib cage, and lifted her from the floor. Carla wriggled and squirmed, tried to break free as her pussy was teased by the chorus girl tugging on her pubes.
The gal raised Carla as high as she could, then dropped her into the floor. Carla's outrageous scream sent a chilling panic through our bodies. She lay in a heap, unmoving, tears streaming from her eyes.
We all rushed in, our hearts in our throats. Our worst fears were about to be realized. Carla's leg lay unnaturally twisted beneath her.
"You fucking cunt!" Carla yelled. "You broke my goddam leg!"
"Sandy! Call an ambulance," Josh said, turning away and giving instructions to cover her up, keep her warm, keep her comfortable.
With the ambulance on its way, I returned to find most everyone still huddled around Carla. She wept gently, her head in Blayne's lap. The chorus girl profusely apologized to anyone who would listen. But there was a strange absence of anyone in authority.
"Come with me," Randy said, tapping me on the should. "There's an emergency meeting that I definitely think you should be in on."
I followed Randy into the study and the doors were closed behind me.
"Ah, there you are," Martin said, offering me a chair. "We've got a problem. Broken leg or not, Carla's not going to be ready to dance on that leg by opening. She'll have to be replaced."
"Aren't you jumping to conclusions?" I asked. "It might only be a sprain."
"You saw it. I'm not a doctor, but I know a broken leg when I see one," Josh said through a worried look.
Martin put his arm around my should. "You begin rehearsals first thing in the morning."
"Me?" I exclaimed, practically jumping out of my skin.
"Why not? You know all of Carla's blocking, her dance routines are nothing more than bumps and grinds, and you've been fit into all her costumes. That leaves dialogue."
"And songs!" I added in a quick hurry. "Thanks, Martin, but I can't sing."
The musical director, Dennis Dreisler, stepped for-ward. "I'll teach you. Besides, a lot of Gypsy's numbers can be talked through. Natalie Wood was no singer and she did it. So can you."
"But ... But ... I can't act."
"Nonsense. Anyone can act," Josh assured me. "The show's in excellent shape and I can devote all my time to your training."
Martin slipped his arm from my shoulder and came around to stand directly in front of me. "We don't have time to argue, honey. You're three steps ahead of anyone else we could bring in. With four days to opening, we need every advantage we can get. Plus, I hate to get technical, but there's a clause in your contract that says you'll do whatever it takes to get the show up and in the world I wanted! running." A shit-eating grin spread across Martin's face. He had me and he knew it. A stage manager was easily replaced.
Randy bumped Martin aside, knelt in front of me, and took my hands into his.," I told you I'd make you a star. You can do it, Sandy," he said with a wink. "We're all here to help you."
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I looked from shaking head to shaking head and knew further protest was useless. My heart pounded and my nerves stood on frightened edge. I was about to become an actress, an almost star. The thought was terrifying. "Okay, guys. You got me. Just remember, this was your idea and not mine. If I royally fuck things up, it's just as much your fault as mind."
"That's my girl," Josh said, raising me from the chair. "You start with Dennis tomorrow morning at eight."
Everyone was reassuring as we returned to the party. The ambulance had come and gone during our little meeting, and Dave informed us that Carla's leg was indeed broken. Josh made the announcement of my taking Carla's place and the hush was threatening. Then they erupted into excited applause and rushed in to congratulate me, unaware that this was the last thing