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As the curtain opened after intermission and the performance resumed, she couldn't have been prouder of everyone. The cast and crew managed the change with only a handful of minor glitches. While she didn't disagree with Billie's assessment of what would best reward them, she figured she could offer copious amounts of alcohol in lieu of a marathon of oral sex. And she'd personally tell Harris's Mistresses he deserved the most explosive orgasm of his life...after he had a good night's sleep.
When it was time for the final scene of the second act, no major disasters had occurred. She refused to let herself relax yet, though. Not until it was all over.
"I am so, so sorry." Charlotte slid up next to her. While shorter than Julie, Charlotte was much heavier, carrying about sixty extra pounds. But she carried those pounds with an air of Mother Earth sensuality that went well with her long golden hair and brilliant green eyes. Eyes that were filled with chagrin. Julie linked arms with her.
"Nothing at all to be sorry about, Char. These things happen. You've given the crew a chance to feel so proud of themselves they'll be puffed up like roosters at the after party. Are you sure you're okay?" Julie gave her a critical look. She looked a little pale and drained. "Because if you and Tony have to pull out, it's okay. Your health is way more important than this."
"No. It wasn't a bad one. I really think I could have gone on sooner, but Tony wouldn't budge on that." Her cheeks flushed. "He doesn't usually go all Master-like on me in our day-to-day life, but he did this time. I was too weak to jump him for being overbearing."
"Well, he loves you."
"Yes, he does." Charlotte dimpled.
"Silly woman in love. There he is, out there waiting for you." As the cue for the final act came, Julie nudged Charlotte forward. She was glad to see the woman move onto the stage with no apparent nervousness, dressed in nothing but a burlap smock she would soon be shedding.
The first time Charlotte had stripped for a run through, she'd had no self-consciousness at all. Julie had remarked on it that day to her, how she admired a woman with no self-consciousness about her size. While Julie immediately worried she might have offended Charlotte with the implication of her weight, Charlotte had offered her friendly reassurance to the contrary.
"I wasn't always that way. I was focused on being model thin, not on understanding why I was mistreating my body, making it harder for it to take care of me. I've been unable to lose weight most of my life. Yet since I became part of the lifestyle and collared by Tony, I've lost twenty-five pounds. I hope to lose about fifty more. I'll still be heavier than magazines think I should be, but my lab numbers are going down and my doctor couldn't be happier. Tony showed me that I don't need to lose weight to be lovely. I want to be healthy, not thin."
The woman had smiled, showing even, white teeth and generous, moist lips glossed with a salmon-colored lipstick that complemented her skin tone. Whenever she came to the theater, she wore lovely, well-accessorized outfits that reflected her positive self-image.
"For the first time in my life, I don't care about being the size of a pencil. I just want to be in good health so I can enjoy my life to the fullest. You'll find a lot of that in the BDSM world. Fat, thin, tall, short, big dick, small dick, old, young, it doesn't matter. It's about the give and take, seeing the soul within. Which to my way of thinking is what every relationship should be, vanilla or kinky. Maybe I'm biased, but BDSM seems more open to that idea. At least where and how we enjoy it."
Returning to the present, Julie watched Charlotte's Master crook an imperious finger at her. Tarps were spread out on stage, and a draped table held a vat of misting liquid nitrogen, along with a line-up of knives and fire wands. The music was a dramatic piece that evoked witches dancing around a cauldron. The flickering light against the brick painted scenery suggested a dungeon lit by braziers.
Tony was dressed as an Inquisitor in dark brown robes. The fifty-something nuclear plant engineer with a handsome head of silver hair and a goatee was one of their few cast members with theater experience, having played Arthur in a Raleigh area production of Camelot, and Don Quixote in Man of La Mancha. His dramatic abilities showed now. "Strip, witch," he commanded in a booming voice that vibrated through the audience.
Charlotte unlaced the neckline of the smock and let it drop. While Tony had more theatrical experience, Charlotte's reactions were natural and un-choreographed, a compelling combination. She sank to her knees as if prepared to plead with the Inquisitor, bending to kiss his foot. His expression stern, he bent and wrapped his hand in her hair. When he yanked her up, preparing to drag her back to her feet, he paused, as if suddenly caught by the picture she made, on her knees to him, her head tipped back and hands loose, offering herself to him.
He traced the curve of her breast and her lips parted, tongue sweeping across them in unscripted reaction. Lifting her to her feet, he brought her to the tarp with a solid black backdrop flanking it on two sides, creating a protected corner. He put her hands on the wooden stake that had been erected on the tarp, as if that was where he might bind and set the witch on fire.
"Do I need to tie you, or do you submit to my will?"
"Don't you mean God's Will, Inquisitor?" Charlotte asked, batting her eyes at him, sending a ripple of laughter through the audience.
Tony picked up a paddle and whacked her generous bottom with it, earning a yelp. "Insolent witch. Answer the question." He spanked her again and she let out a gasp that hinted at something other than discomfort.
"No Master, you don't need to tie me. I submit to your will."
She curled her fingers around the stake and spread her legs. He bound up her hair in a tight knot, pulling on her scalp roughly, and stepped back. He drizzled alcohol on her back and then lit a fire wand. As he passed the bundle of cotton gauze over her flesh, it appeared as if he set her on blue fire, but he doused it with his hands immediately, stroking her that way, over and over.
"The fire does not burn your pale flesh," he said. "You are God's gift to me, witch. You will serve me."
He pressed up behind her to caress her flanks, and between her legs. "You like the idea, I think," he muttered, and she gasped in response.
Charlotte had lost all awareness of the audience as soon as Tony motioned to her from across the stage. Several times tonight, Julie had watched her players experience that transition, insulating themselves in a scene together. When Charlotte gasped at Tony's touch, Julie could tell Tony crossed that threshold himself.
Stepping away from his wife, he picked up the bouquet of roses that had been left on the draped table with the wands and blades. After he selected one of the blooms, he held it up to the light. Putting his hand on her back, he stroked her silken skin as he considered the silken petals. He lifted the bloom to his nose to inhale the scent, and then ran it between her spread legs and brought it to his nose again. Charlotte kept her forehead pressed to her overlapped hands on the stake, but a visible quiver ran through her as he trailed the rose over her back.
Returning to the table, Tony donned a rubber glove. Dipping the rose in the nitrogen, he pulled the blossom free, pivoted and slapped it hard against her back.
The rose exploded, leaving a red mark on her skin and showering frozen petals around her. Charlotte clung to the post, shuddering from the cold. He rolled another fire wand over her skin. He began to alternate the two stimulus, fire and ice, making it a dance, her body moving in reaction to the two sensations, him moving with her.
Then he brought her to stillness as he jerked her up against him, turning her toward the audience. Producing a short curved blade that looked like a bird's beak, he ran it along her throat, under the curve of her breast, harrowingly close to her nipple... Charlotte was motionless against him, a moan caught in her throat, her eyes glazed.
Julie suspected very few in the audience were still seeing an obese woman or a white-collar man in his fifties, past what most would consider his sexual prime. They were seeing a Master and sub engage in an intimate, fascinating power exchange. The energy of it changed their lenses, let them see the beauty of two souls struggling to connect with one another, taking joy in one another. Charlotte was immersed in everything her Master did to her, and he in turn was ensorcelled by her response.
For the same reasons, Julie knew the moment Desmond was standing behind her. She knew his energy, and didn't know how to explain that, except to know it was true. He gripped one side of her podium, propping himself behind her so he bracketed her body, his other hand caressing her waist. He didn't speak, the two of them watching the scene progress. He was still a little sweaty from helping with the prop and scenery rearrangement. He was also still shirtless.
