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The male sub's groans of pleasure as one of the acolytes straddled him and shared the electrical current with him, captivated everyone watching, including the crew. If every act was this intense, they'd all need to be zapped with wands to avoid missing their cues.
Billie Dee-Lite picked up on that vibe when the scene concluded and he sauntered out onto stage in his silver sequined mini-dress and stiletto thigh-high boots. The silken red tresses of his expensive wig gleamed from the stage lights and framed his dark eyes, enhanced with glittering silver lashes. "What a way to start a show," he purred. "This is what erotic performance is all about. Bringing our deepest desires to the surface and giving them a fantasy flourish.
"If you enjoyed that, boys and girls, you are in for a treat, because every scene tonight will showcase the beauty and power of Domination and submission. The things it can call out of our hearts, minds and souls, whether you are vanilla, or like to walk on the wilder side... Or somewhere in between you don't tell your Momma about. When you leave here tonight, you will be changed in delightful ways. You will want more."
He drew himself up into a dramatic pose and pointed at the audience with a glistening, sharp nail. "You will go home and you will 'like' this theater on all your social media sites. You will book your online tickets for the next showing so the poor people who run this theater don't have to resort to cannibalism to survive. And you will tell all your friends."
He put his hand on his hip and affected an even more effeminate tone. "'Oh, Gladys, it was amazing, even though you know I'm not into all that kinky shit. Hush now, Pastor Brian is beginning his Sunday sermon. But did you know his wife was there? No telling what kind of freaky shit happened when she got home. She looked like she was ready for Pastor Brian to pull out his staff and part the Red Sea...'"
He strolled across the stage as the laughter settled. "Sexual expression is limitless, babies. It can make us laugh or cry, it can lift us up to the heavens or take us to hell...and have us booking another roundtrip ticket."
He stopped and pinned them with a look. "If done right, it's when we feel closest to our best selves and those we love, the person you'd tear your heart out to have standing at your side for all your life. If that person is not by your side tonight in this audience, you need to bring them back so you can take this journey with him or her. But for now, let's all take this journey together.
"And one last thing, my babies. You'll see astonishing things tonight, but no applause except when the curtain closes at the end of each scene. Trust me, your performers will give you more than you expect if you don't distract them...or yourselves."
Billie moved into the shadows as the lights came down. Julie's heart ached a little in the rapt silence he'd created. Either Billie was speaking from experience or he was a damn good performer, but either way, he'd skillfully brought the audience from laughter back to the right mood for the next scene. Julie blessed Logan's connections that had won them the skills of the talented diva. When Billie sauntered back into the wings, she high-fived him and didn't even mind him slapping her ass hard enough to make it wobble. She took it as a go-team kind of gesture, and returned to her own responsibilities with a grin.
A haunted flute melody opened the next performance, a snake dancing scene. A Master in slashed silken pantaloons sat cross-legged, playing the short wooden flute as the open weave basket in which his sub was contained began to rock to the music. Her hands came out the openings, moving in a sinuous pattern. She was twisting her torso, trying to escape the narrow basket, and Julie suspected she became too immersed in her snake persona. She overbalanced and the basket toppled.
The edge of the stage was too close to where it fell and started to roll. Fortunately, one of the crew positioned in a crouch on the side steps as a spotter began to move, doing his job, but the Master was quicker. In one fluid leap, he was on his feet and brought the basket to a stop by planting his foot in front of it. He did it so smoothly, it looked as if it was part of the performance. His sub played right into it, her hands coming out of the top opening to caress his calf, wander up his leg.
He piped a shrill, commanding note, as if admonishing her for the unsolicited caress. She froze. He backed away when her hands flattened on the floor, stabilizing the basket. While he resumed the sensuous melody, she came out just as a snake would, in writhing movements along the floor, her body undulating in ways that Julie's advanced yoga instructor would envy.
"Hell, we can go get a burger, Julie. They don't need us."
She smiled at Harris's comment in her headphones. Des had said a good Dom was ready for things to go wrong, that the protection of the sub was the most important thing. This Master
had heightened the intensity of the scene by injecting a powerful additive to it. Protection. Either they'd all taken the admonitions about safety to heart, or they already knew the importance of it themselves. Either way, she was impressed and reassured.
The sub was covered in spotted body paint intended to make her look like a sleek cobra. A harness over her shoulders and around her waist held the folds of dark cloth that became a "hood" when she lifted her arms in strike pose toward her Dom, advancing upon him and then falling back. The notes of the pipe, his focus upon her, made the shift between power and control clear. When the scene concluded, she was coiled around his feet, arms twined around his calf, head resting on his knee. Generous applause echoed through the theater as the curtain closed.
The next two scenes were also well-received and smoothly executed. With an ever more impressive costume each time, Billie returned to cover each break as props and scenery were changed out. Julie registered the responses of the audience to his discourse, but she was busy, pitching in with an extra set of hands a dresser needed for a costume adjustment, then helping with a large scenery piece that had cracked a support when adjusted. The stage hands put in a quick fix and the next group of performers went out only ten seconds late.
Billie covered the delay by sticking her head back out of the curtains, gathering them around her as if protecting her modesty in the shower.
"I know you were looking at my ass, you bad boy," she chided, pointing to Logan in the front row. "This next scene is a public service warning about what happens to those who don't mind their manners around Miss Billie Dee-Lite."
Laughter rippled through the audience. Logan grinned wolfishly at Billie as the lights rose. This performance was closer to a real-life BDSM scene. A female submissive was strapped to a St. Andrew's cross, prepared to experience several forms of impact play. As her Dom extolled her various infractions and what her punishments would be, the sub's impish excuses flavored the scene with humor. She wore a cute school girl uniform, the Dom in the dour suit of a schoolmaster.
The whimsical note put the more vanilla audience members at ease about what was about to happen, as intended. As the scene progressed and became more edgy, Julie kept a weather eye on the rows she could see. While some of the audience looked vaguely uncomfortable, the role play appeared to have drawn them into the scene.
She and Madison had decided to purposely scatter more realistic scenes throughout the lineup, knowing those were the ones the mainstream attendees might have more trouble handling. They could have left them out entirely, but Madison had wanted them to have something to think about that couldn't be dismissed as mere fantasy.
The next scene would be the fire players. They had a dramatic show planned, like a Cirque du Soleil offering. They'd bring the comfort level of the audience back to an even keel. After that would be a simple Victorian man-and-his-maid scene that would take place on the stage apron so Des could set up behind the curtain, since his performance would happen after that. He'd indicated he'd need about ten minutes to get Missive in place.
Julie wondered in which direction Des's performance would fall, reality or fantasy.
"Miss Ramirez?"
Missive preferred to use surnames and honorifics. She called Logan Mr. Scott. Julie had noticed she called Des by his first name, a curiosity because she didn't do that for anyone else.
"Yes, Missive?" While surprised at finding the young woman at her elbow, Julie masked it. She hoped she looked friendly and professional, rather than like a cat about to scratch someone's eyes out. However, she purposefully kept the touch of "Remember, I'm pretty damn busy right now" in her voice to discourage chitchat. Though Harris and his crew didn't need her right now, that could change. It didn't have anything to do with her wanting to minimize her exposure to the girl. So she told herself.
Regardless of her motive, her effort was wasted. Missive didn't seem to notice the brusque tone. Since the fire players were taking the stage, she could speak in a low voice instead of a whisper, because their scene was accompanied by the unfortunately named but thrilling "Night on Disco Mountain."
"You know, people think I chose my scene name as a shortened form of the word submissive. It did work out kind of awesomely that way, but my real name is Ivy."
Julie blinked. "That's interesting, but..."
