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Madison handed her a bottle of water. "I think you lost ten pounds rushing around these last few days, and I gained it through nervous eating. It's filling up out there. We sold out, Julie. Can you believe it? You said that almost never happens. Tell me not to be terrified."
Thank God. Just like that, Julie clicked back into the role she knew, finding her footing and her joy again. Damn man.
"Totally be terrified," she said, giving Madison a maniacal grin. "That's the fun part. Over the next two hours, you get to slide from terror into handspring happiness when the audience abandons their reserve and gets fully into the show."
"What if they don't?"
"There is no don't. There is only doo. Which is why I carry doggy poop bags." Julie did her best Yoda imitation and chuckled as the joke visibly derailed Madison from her one-track catastrophe scenario.
"You idiot." Madison poked her. "Anything I can do to help?"
"No, we're good right now. Harris and his t
rusty production book are in charge of it all. Look at him over there. He looks like Napoleon ready to launch a full scale invasion of Europe. He's a god and he doesn't even know it."
"I think he threw up in the bathroom a little while ago."
"It's his little ritual. Don't worry about it. It's going to be fun, because it's so unscripted. That's exactly why it's going to be magic." Putting an arm around Madison, she gave her a squeeze. "Your man is there in the front row looking for you. Just go enjoy. You paid me the big bucks to be here and handle this."
"Oh yeah," Madison said dryly. "I traded on our friendship and gave you enough to cover your weekly groceries, and you took that only because I insisted. You lived in the theater these past few weeks."
"Because I wanted to. It's the place I feel most at home."
In ways that weren't always healthy, but her self-actualizing side could just shut the hell up and go eat a pint of ice cream. "Now scram. Nervous owners are bad luck backstage on performance night. Just be ready to accept all the congratulations at intermission."
Or do damage control, but Julie held that thought to herself. The worst would come if it came. No sense in wasting energy on it.
"I think you made that up, but I'm going." Madison hugged her impulsively and then disappeared, heading down the side steps to return to the audience. Julie could hear the crowd building, but it was one of many details she absorbed right now. She watched the lighting and sound guys taking their places, making final tweaks. She heard the radio through her headphones on the podium beep and crackle, Harris doing last minute checks. Performers moved through the shadows on her periphery.
One of them was standing silently, waiting nearby yet out of the path of the stage hands. Mistress Lilith apparently had her own ritual for getting her and her sub into the proper mindset. As she threaded a whip through her fingertips meditatively, her sub knelt at her feet, his head down as she stroked the bright red hair at his nape. He had a tattoo of a snake down his spine, visible since he wore only a pair of jeans. Lilith was in a silver catsuit. Neither of them looked nervous.
Doing this in front of a rapt audience, particularly if they were hidden in the shadows behind the lights, might not seem that different from their normal club environments. Even if it was, she thought of what Des had told her. When done right, it was just the Dom and sub. No one else.
Energy kicked up inside and all around her as the house lights blinked, the five minute warning. Experience shoved everything else out except making this the best damn experience the audience had ever had.
Cast for the opening scene were forming a line to her right. Six women dressed in filmy flowing robes dusted with glitter to catch the stage lights. The Mistresses would wield violet wands with artistic and erotic effect, sorceresses performing magic on a bound virgin on a sacrificial altar.
Julie did a quick scan of the scenery and stage props to ensure all was in place, even knowing Harris would be doing the same. An altar was on a raised dais against a mountain scene--painted muslin wrapped over thin board--that would be illuminated by lightning. Putting on her headset and adjusting the volume from the controls at her belt, she heard the sound guys cued for the Loreena McKennitt score, which opened with a rumble of distant thunder. She sent Harris a thumbs up.
Showtime.
As the lights started to darken, she touched the arm of the sorceress Domme closest to her, a black-haired woman who went by the name of Lady Myst. "Break a leg," Julie whispered, and earned a wink. As well as a mildly inappropriate but appreciated brief fondling of her ass with elegant nails before the Mistress headed out on stage. Her female acolytes followed, tugging along the male sub stripped down to nothing but chains and a loin cloth.
"Some Dominants can't help themselves. They detect sub and it's like a dog lover keeping their hands off a puppy."
She choked on a laugh at Billie's remark, and his own inappropriate gesture. The drag queen had arrived at her side and delivered the whispered comment deadpan, all while having his hand clamped on her left butt cheek.
He'd start his emcee duties right after the dramatic opening scene, providing transition between acts. And apparently butt patting support when necessary. "This is going to fucking kick ass," she whispered back.
"You bet your sweet patootie it will. By the way, your man is looking extra fine tonight. Think you're having a good effect on him."
Billie wandered off before she could respond to the assumption that she was the reason Des looked good, but she liked the sound of "your man." Des had been in and out of the wings like a shadow himself, no time to do more than throw her a smile. But he was here.
She let the fierce certainty of success at all levels fill her and then reined it all in. She centered on the details and the big picture simultaneously, an edge she would ride with consummate skill for the next couple of hours without a single falter. This is what she knew better than anything, including the vagaries of her own heart.
The violet wand performance went off without a hitch. As the chained male bucked under the attentions of the priestesses, "lightning" flashed against the mountain background, enhancing the cracking electricity of their wands. They sketched the air with lines of blue, purple and green.
Madison's budget had allowed a modest lighting set up, so Julie was deeply impressed by what the students had accomplished with what they had. Drama and pageantry did the rest.
