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"I don't think I can handle another selfish jerk."
"All of us can be selfish jerks. It's the human condition. The question is whether it's his predominant super power or a balanced part of a whole pool of traits that makes you want to dive right in." He paused and murmured something.
"What?"
"Thomas just emerged from his studio and called me Superman. I was obliged to flip him the bird and threaten his life."
Julie smirked, but her mind was still caught up in the conversation. "I think I'm already in the water, close to being over my head."
"You have friends who can pull you out if needed." Marcus's voice was a stroking reassurance. "Julie, we love you. We both hope this is your guy, the one you've deserved for so long. Don't be looking for ways to shoot him down arbitrarily. How you talk about him is new for you, and I'm going to take that as a good sign. Here. I'm going to hand you over to Thomas so he can do that nurturing crap he's so good at."
"You're actually not so bad at it yourself, no matter the hard-ass routine."
"I am a hard-ass. Just ask anyone. If this guy doesn't treat you right, he'll find out first hand."
Hard work gave the subconscious mind a chance to work out the tangles of life's more complicated issues. Over the next few days, the end run toward opening night took up most of her waking hours. She and Harris were neck deep in production details, while at the other end of the burning candle she and Madison pursued the endless ways to market the event.
Promoting a BDSM erotic event in the mainstream community was a delicate tap dance, but with Madison's passion for her theater's mission and Julie's marketing savvy, their efforts started to bear fruit. Ticket sales that had started initially as a harrowing trickle became a solid flow when they stepped up the social media campaign and secured radio and TV spots. Madison's loyal customer base, Logan's wide network of BDSM club members and the students helping with the production proved invaluable at spreading the word.
On the production side, there were run-throughs to review scenery, light and sound cues. The cast run-throughs were different from formal rehearsals, much heavier on the technical end and blocking than on running lines, because this first offering was intended to be a glimpse through the looking glass at the BDSM world. The show was billed as unscripted, organic, unfolding on stage according to the direction of Dom to sub, which helped increase buzz about it.
Avant-garde theater typically didn't command large audiences, the players doing it more for love of the medium than an expectation of big ticket sales. However, Wonder was offering an inside glimpse at a world that fascinated the mainstream. When they'd sold two hundred and fifty of their four hundred ticket capacity, Madison was ecstatic.
Julie was happy, because she could turn her attention back toward the production itself. She and Harris focused on improving the stage elements for each performer so their presentation would be even more dramatic, without messing with the integrity of the scene itself. She also made sure each of the initial run-throughs or any significant changes were reviewed by Des, Logan or whatever expert they recommended to double check safety matters. All the stage hands and cast members were required to sit in on a comprehensive safety discussion with her, Logan and Des.
"We're all responsible for the safety of our performers," Logan told them. "A Dom can get stage fright like anyone else and miss details he or she wouldn't normally. So if we all watch out for one another, we have a good show on every level."
"It's fun, it's play, it's intense in all the right ways," Des had added. "And it only stays that way if we watch out for one another every fucking minute."
Julie had concluded the talk with a reminder. "During the show, if there's anything that worries you about what's happening on, behind or around stage, you bring it to Harris's or my attention immediately. We want this to be a resounding success, but we won't hesitate to stop a scene right in the middle if someone is at risk. We want people to learn about the beauty and reality of BDSM, and keeping people safe is a very real, true part of it."
Des had been sitting in the back during her little speech, but when she'd said that, her eyes had shifted to him, held. His lips curved and he gave her a slight nod. Knowing his concerns about "performing" BDSM scenes, she was bolstered by his approval.
She had met Missive and spoken with her a few times as part of the show prep. She was everything Des had said she was. Slim, blonde, young and beautiful. She was also pleasant and smart, so helpful and service-oriented that Harris had suggested they lure her back as crew for future productions.
Desmond had told her a lot about Missive. She had no permanent attachments in the scene, and possessed an adventurous submissive nature that enjoyed a wide variety of experiences. Yes, she and Des had done quite a few rope scenes together, but she'd also volunteered as Logan's sub for his whip instruction classes at his club. At least three other Masters and Mistresses in the cast had had the pleasure of doing scenes with her for violet wands, fire and role play.
Outside the scene, she was an engineering student with a busy lifestyle. Des suspected she might have a vanilla relationship in that world, but Missive preferred to keep that part of her life private.
Knowing all of that should have made it easier for Julie, and spending some one-on-one time with Des did help. As promised, he'd taken Julie on a two low-pressure, no-sex dates in the little spare time she'd had. The first had been dinner at Mac's Speed Shop, a popular pseudo-biker and BBQ hang out that had to-die-for mac-and-cheese and brisket. They'd listened to a great live band, Des's arm stretched over the back of the booth behind her, her leaning into his side, tapping her fingers to the music on his thigh. The noise made conversation a lips right against the ear requirement, and they kept one another laughing with the conversations they shared, and half aroused from their close proximity.
She was a hypocrite, because the casual, safe atmosphere unleashed her inner tease. She'd pressed up against him when she spoke in his ear, and he acknowledged it with a snug arm around her waist, fingers sliding intimately into the back pocket of her jeans. Light kisses exchanged became deeper, more lingering, his eyes heating on her face when they broke apart, but he hadn't taken it further than that. When he dropped her off that night, he'd given her a kiss that had left her vibrating, but he hadn't asked to come in. She'd told herself she wouldn't offer, and then spent the rest of the night aching from her own stupidity.
Not until after the performance. Take it slow. No one has ever died of sexual frustration. Yet.
Whenever he came to the theater, whether it involved meeting with Harris about his own scene or helping out some of the carpentry guys, he always came to see her first. He'd kiss her, then wrap his arms around her, letting her tuck her head beneath his chin as he held her for a lingering few seconds in an embrace that conveyed romance, affection and sexual interest all at once. It was the best part of her day.
Once when he came to do that, she was in the pit with Shale, where they were discussing her scene needs. The Mistress was doing a provocative cage scene with her sub, Troy, the handsome blond male who worked with Logan at his hardware store. Shale was a nurse but always reminded Julie of a cross between a tall, slim fairy and a biker chick with her snug jeans, heavy metal rock T-shirts and her love of motorcycles.
"Des," Shale said fondly, giving him a hug and brushing her lips along his cheek. Julie had decided the man was known and loved by everyone in the BDSM community. "I never thought I'd have the pleasure of seeing you up on a stage again. It's made us all love Julie even more. I suppose you'll be doing something suspension related?"
"Yeah." Des borrowed Julie's water and took a swig, handing it back. Julie noted Shale's speculative look at the casually intimate gesture. She maintained a look of bland innocence, though she really wanted to succumb to a cocky and far too premature yeah, that's right, he's my man smugness. The amusement that touched Shale's features made Julie wonder if she'd detected that. Des did say she had a rotten poker face.
"He's a circus performer, Julie. Don't let him hide his gifts from you. He can do it all. Rope, fire, electric, roleplay, whip, wax, impact...name your freak."
Des made a noncommittal noise. "I'll always learn new stuff, but I'm a rigger at heart."
"Yes you are," Shale agreed, and elbowed Julie. "His suspension will be a crowd favorite, but he prefers the quiet stuff. That's where his heart is."
