Faye Millerton reveals a little...

Catherine Meadows was Vanessa Staunton’s new bitch. I doubt if she’d have called herself that but she was, it was obvious. I was a bit jealous, to be honest. Van, as we members of ‘Dole Queue’ knew her, was a gorgeous mature woman, a fabulous if didactic and control freakish director and voraciously lesbian. I’d fancied her ever since we started ‘The Queue’ but it was not, so it seemed, to be.

I also fancied Catherine or, as Van called her for some reason best known to herself, Charlotte. She’d written ‘Stabbed in the Heart’ for us and it had gone down really well. The play and cast got good reviews, albeit only in the local press until, oddly, a couple of weeks after the run when a small, favourable review appeared in a national.

It was, indirectly, because of Catherine that Felicity Caterham, my agent and sister to my best friend Lilly, got me my first big break. It was also, I later discovered, thanks to her that I finally got laid by Van but more of that later. Up to that point, my career had been more or less going nowhere. I’d done some kids’ tv but that was purgatory and most of the time I served in a French restaurant in my home town wondering if being groped by ‘grateful’ customers was to be the pinnacle of my life’s work.

After ‘Stabbed,’ Van had to do a job in America but she had persuaded Catherine to write another play for us, a comedy this time, for production at our usual venue, a small virtually unknown theatre in one of the poorer parts of Bristol in the Spring. It was called ‘Saints Alive’ and I played the part of Charlotte, a well-meaning but naïve environmental activist who ended up in jail. Not, I confess, a naturally comic subject but trust me, it worked.

We were directed by a guy called Tommy Raisin, a male version of Van, a tough, no-nonsense, 'do as I say' sort of director. He was good. Catherine’s script was taut, paced and very, very funny.

After one rehearsal we’d all gone to a famous water-side pub for a drink. Catherine had come with us and we were sitting on a balcony overlooking the docks and wrapped up against the cold so we could have a cigarette together.

“You and Van an item?”

She looked at me, her blonde hair partially covering one eye. She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe, sort of.”

I had to laugh. “For a wordsmith, you’re not being too clear.”

Her turn to laugh. “Maybe because it’s not clear to me either. I mean, we’ve, well, you know, but…”

“Why did you call my character Charlotte?”

“Because you fancy Van.”

“Now you’re being obscure.”
 

“Van fancies women called Charlotte.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Seriously. That’s why she calls me Charlotte.”

“Christ, I knew life could be complicated but that is beyond complex. So you write me a part in which I am called Charlotte so your woman will fancy me.”
 

“She already fancies you.” She turned to face me more. “She is never going to be ‘my’ woman, she doesn’t do long term relationships. She is devoutly promiscuous. You fancy her, she fancies you so I called you Charlotte to help things along a bit, that’s all.”
 

“Oh, right, simple.” I shook my head. “Are you promiscuous too?”

“I dunno. I think maybe I am, yes. I mean I don’t feel promiscuous but I have been.”

“I am so glad I don’t live in your head.” Thank goodness, she laughed at that.

Then she asked me, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

I couldn’t decide why she was asking so I decided to be honest. “No. I did have until recently. She was a doctor but she went home to India.”

“Painful?” She sipped the wine she was holding and took a drag at her cigarette.

“Yes, a bit. I knew it was going to happen but I miss her. You have anyone besides Van?”

“No, and I’m not even sure I’ve got her. I feel a bit like a diversion or a form of therapy for her. She gets horny with stress. I’ve had too much to drink, I’m being indiscreet.”

I touched her hand. “Let’s have a drink sometime?”
 

“I thought we were having one now.”

“Let’s have a date sometime? Is that clearer?”
 

“Yes, and yes, let's.” We exchanged phone numbers.

~~~

Catherine called me the following day. “Were you serious about that drink?”

I should never have answered. I’d just finished masturbating and I always sound different after I’ve cum. No, I don’t know why but I do. “Yes, yes I was serious.”
 

"Okay? You sound sort of odd.” See what I mean? We met at Platform Twelve, a new wine bar near the station, predictably. I got the feeling Catherine had made an effort. She looked good in a long green skirt and a yellow blouse that made it obvious her little tits, smaller even than mine, were not fettered. Her blonde hair was loose and she had pretty brown ankle boots. Her only jewellery was a chunky silver necklace. She’d already bought a bottle of white wine that sat in a cooler on her table so I kissed her hello and sat opposite her.

Catherine’s version.

I called Faye the day after we’d been freezing our tits off outside the pub having a smoke. She sounded a bit strange, like she was caught on the hop or something. I asked her if she would like that drink and happily, she said yes again and we met later at Platform Nine.

I got there a bit early and bought a bottle of white wine, got two glasses and selected a table away from the chill of the doorway and poured myself a drink. She arrived a few minutes later than we’d agreed, kissed me and sat facing me as I poured her a drink. She looked good, tight brown leather trousers and a white t-shirt with a linen jacket that had shortish sleeves and its collar turned up. Her chestnut hair was tied back revealing neat ears with little studs in each lobe.

“I’ve decided I am not promiscuous,” I said this with a smile.

“Is that a way of telling me not to try and have my wicked way with you?”

“Oh, God, no, no, I didn’t mean that at all.” She smiled and patted my hand. “I’m sorry. I get a bit tongue-tied sometimes.”
 

“I’d never have noticed. Relax and tell me about you.”

So I did and found myself telling her about Olivia, my not so recent ex, writing and enjoying ‘Dole Queue,’ and a lot of other babble. She was fun, quick-witted and funny and I discovered I liked it when her hand touched mine when she was making a point.

“Don’t get wound up by Van. She’s a force of nature but she’s got a good heart and can't help herself when a good looking woman’s about. I doubt if she’s ever had a real relationship with anything apart from the theatre. So why aren’t you promiscuous?”
 

“Well, I am, in a way.” Faye rolled her eyes. “I’m getting there. When I was with Olivia….”

“The bitch who slapped you?”
 

“Yes, that bitch. I was faithful. I have no idea if she was. What I mean is if I am in a relationship I am not promiscuous. If I’m not I have been known to mess around a bit.”

“I’m with you. I’ve only had a couple of relationships and I’d say I’m the same as you. Everyone thinks actors fuck like rabbits and some do but I’m not inclined that way. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been around the block a few times though. Are we having a confessional date?”

“What’s that?”

“A date where we confess to our previous follies so we don’t get found out.”

“Oh God, no, not all our previous follies. We need to save some for another date.”

She held my hand a little longer than before. “Are we going to have another date?”

“I do hope so.”

“So do I.”

I went home and showered and got into bed and all of a sudden Faye was with me, her fingers circling my nipples, her mouth on mine and then, Christ alive, she was in me. Her fingers were curling into me and one of them was stroking my arsehole and I let go with a huge aching moan that seemed to come from nowhere.

Faye and a slight accident

We had started rehearsals for ‘Saints Alive’ in earnest and in one particular scene, Catherine had written that my character had to slide down a set of bannisters to attempt to escape the police. In the script, my dress had to get caught on a nail and be ripped off revealing the fact I was wearing a pair of huge knickers with ‘Save the Globe’ embroidered across my arse. This was not the easiest bit of theatre I’d ever been involved in and Tommy Raisin, director, perfectionist and all-round pain in the arse, worked at it relentlessly.

The last three goes had been perfect so, being a perfectionist, he called for one more. My skirt caught perfectly but, unfortunately, it didn’t rip and I was left dangling. When it finally gave way, I plummeted down the stairs onto my left foot which twisted and I shouted, “Fuck, that hurts!” Method acting and improv in one – class, no?

General mayhem ensued. Tommy was most concerned, mainly because if I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t act and time was pressing. He’s the caring sort. The cast helped me and Catherine. When I’d been propped on a chair with my foot raised and an ice pack on my ankle, she sat with me. She took my hand.

“Are you okay? I’d never have written it if I’d known you’d get hurt.”

“Suffering for my art, darling. Nothing to worry about. Got a fag?”

“You can't smoke in here.” I gave her a look that said, yes I bloody well can and she went to her desk, got me a cigarette from her bag and, I noticed, one for herself and sat again, handing me the lit ciggy. Something intimate about someone lighting up for you, don’t you think?

Catherine said she’d get a cab and help me home and I liked that idea. A couple of the guys helped me to the cab and Catherine fussed around me getting me settled then sat next to me as we drove back to my place. We managed, somehow, to get me upstairs and positioned in an armchair and she lifted my foot up onto a stool, got a bag of frozen peas and a tea towel and packed them around the swollen ankle.

“Should we get you to a hospital?”

“No, honestly, it’ll be fine. You could get us both a fucking great gin and tonic or whatever you fancy, though.”

She brought me the drink and sat down on my sofa and we chatted. “It’s late,” she said. “I’d better get you into bed and go home. I’ll come back in the morning and get you up.”

“Stay.”
 

“You want me to?”

“No, I said ‘stay’ because I want you to go. Dimwit.”

She smiled. “Invalids should not be rude to their carers. I’ll sleep on the sofa. Come on I’ll get you to bed.”

She helped me through into the bedroom and as I sat heavily on the bed she turned to leave.

“Wait, please Catherine. I need the loo, can you help me into the toilet?” When she turned again I’d taken off my blouse and I saw her stiffen. “Never seen a pair of tits before?” She helped me to the toilet then closed the door until I called for her to help me again. This time I had left my knickers on the floor and I swear she blushed although she claims she didn’t. She helped me again and I felt her nipple harden under her blouse as she supported me. I licked her ear. “You’re nipple’s poking my tit.”

She assisted me into bed and said, as she brushed my hair from my eyes. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep here. Stay with me. I may need a wee in the night.”

Catherine takes up the narrative.

“Faye, are you seriously expecting me to sleep with an injured woman? You’ll be moaning all night and keeping me awake.”
 

She looked at me with her lovely, sparkly brown eyes. “If there’s moaning to be done, let’s do it together.”

I stripped down to my knickers and slipped under the duvet beside her. Fortunately, the bed was wide and I turned my back to her and told her to get some sleep. That, however, was clearly not her plan. I felt her lips on the back of my neck as she moved my hair away and her hand explored my spine.

“Faye, go to sleep.” But I turned to face her and her lips met mine. “Faye….”
 

“Shh. I’ll be fine and we both want this, don’t we?”

I couldn’t argue with that. I wanted her so much but I was naturally afraid of hurting her. Her hand covered my tit and rolled my nipple deliciously between her fingertips. Her lips opened and my tongue moved between them, searching, hesitantly at first as first-time lovers do. We kissed, touched and for a very long time it was just mouth to mouth and hands to breasts and backs and necks and shoulders until Faye’s hand started wandering down over my belly and into my knickers.

“You could lose the knickers.”

I was lost in our kiss so I ignored her. If she wanted them off she could take them off. Her fingers traced my lower lips, caressed me, thrilled me. Have you ever become suddenly, uncontrollably aroused? I did. I sucked her tongue and decided that the best way for me to make love to a woman with a sprained ankle was the time-honoured soixante-neuf so I broke free, squatted over her and leant down, easing her thighs apart as gently as I could.

The notion of removing my knickers seemed to have been forgotten as she pulled them aside and pushed her tongue between my lips, stroking me as I stroked her. I swirled my tongue over her clit and lapped at her faster, deeper until I felt her stiffen under me and har fingernails digging into the cheeks of my arse.

Her orgasm seemed to rise slowly, her grip tightening, her body arching and she moaned softly at first into my puss which was like a vibration accelerating on me until she wailed into me and, as so often with me, her climax triggered my own and I gave a deep sigh into her pussy. Her juices were flowing copiously and I knew mine were too and we both kept licking, kissing and sucking until I felt her subside under me and I slumped too.

Last Night – Catherine continues

It was the last night of ‘Saints Alive’ at the little theatre in one of the least fashionable areas of Bristol but we’d had great reviews and the house was packed. Helping out with props and dress kept me busy and there was a faint tension in the air as there so often is at final shows. I’d slept with Faye a number of times since her accident and we both agreed it was pretty bloody lovely.

A hand settled on my shoulder and I turned. Vanessa. “My God, Vanessa, how wonderful. You came back especially for this?”

“Don’t be silly, darling.” I must have looked crestfallen because she kissed me and then, smiling, said, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Faye arrived and she and Vanessa kissed too and Vanessa asked after Faye’s ankle.

“I’ve had a very pretty nurse looking after me.” She looped her arm through mine and Vanessa’s eyebrows rose as she cottoned on to Faye’s rather possessive signals.

“Well, that’s lovely for both of you. Maybe an older nurse should take a look at it sometime.”

We all smiled but I got the impression Vanessa was really saying let’s all get together sometime but it might have been my imagination.

The show was fabulous. The cast rose to the occasion and it went better than ever, pace, timing, everything. The theatre was filled with laughter and the bannister scene was greeted with hoots, applause and whistles of approval. I was watching from the back of the theatre, heart in mouth lest it go wrong and standing next to Vanessa who, as the curtain came down, slid her hand up the back of my skirt, fondled my arse and whispered in my ear, “Well done you.”

I was, I admit, glowing with pride and pride in the cast as much as for myself. Vanessa kissed my ear and patted my arse. “Go and join them on stage. You’re going to get a fabulous welcome.”

I went backstage and was watching from the wings as the cast did three curtain calls. Then and to my horror, Faye, centre stage, waited until the audience had calmed down then said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the author of ‘Saints Alive’, Catherine Meadows.” She made a flourish with her arm and I had literally no option but to do what I’d always dreaded and walk onto a stage in front of an audience.

It’s heady stuff when a theatre full of people stand, clap, whistle, cheer and they are doing it for you. No wonder actors can't get enough. Faye took my hand, kissed me then pushed me forward to speak.

I have literally no idea what I said but I doubt if anyone heard me anyway. Poppy James, the supporting female, handed me and Faye bouquets of flowers and there was more kissing and hugging after the curtain came down. Then the party started, right there on stage. I participated for about an hour or so but I felt weird, drawn into myself and I went to a quiet corner backstage to process it all. Faye arrived carrying two glasses of champagne, handed me one, then, with a mouth full of bubbles, kissed me so it dribbled down over the camisole I was wearing.

“You deserve it, darling. Get used to it.”

Vanessa appeared and I was held in their embrace and it suddenly seemed so natural that Van was kissing Faye and she was kissing me and I had two people’s hands on my breasts and someone’s up my skirt but I don’t know whose.

Vanessa said, “Let’s go back to my place. My car’s waiting.”

Faye’s ride

Vanessa’s stretched limo was right outside the stage door and we got in. The screen rose to separate the driver from us and we sat, Catherine with her back to the driver, Vanessa and I facing her. Van’s hand slid into the top of my dress and she squeezed my nipple and kissed my mouth, her tongue slithering into me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Catherine kneel on the floor of the car and Van’s legs spread as Catherine’s head disappeared under her dress. Van whispered, “She’ll do this for you when we get home,” and her tongue entered me again, chasing my own tongue as her fingers squeezed tightly on my nipple. She made little whimpers of pleasure and I laid my hand on the shape of Catherine’s head under Van’s long dress.

The car rolled to a stop outside Vanessa’s house and we straightened ourselves out, got out and walked to Van’s impressive front door. She let us in and guided us to a large sitting room with heavy velvet curtains and a fire burning welcomingly in the hearth.

I watched as Van kissed Catherine and, hands on her shoulders said, “I want to fuck both of you. You okay with that?” Catherine looked at me and I smiled because I was a bit drunk and I was exceptionally horny and the thought of the three of us in bed was making me dribble in my knickers.

“Yes. I’m very okay with that.” Thank God for that! I nodded at Van.

“You know where the bedroom is, Charlotte. Take Faye, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Holding my hand firmly, Catherine led me upstairs and into a large bedroom. We knew each other's bodies well by then and we took our time undressing each other. We got into bed and kissed hungrily, our bodies pressed together, legs entwined. I felt the wet of her on my thigh but it might have been mine because I’d seen her form under Van’s dress in the car, maybe before that.

I wanted to taste her then but, as I started to disentangle myself, the bedroom door opened and Van was there, naked, a dark blue strapon harnessed to her hips, her breasts moving beautifully, her pierced nipples hard. She walked to the bed and leant down to kiss me then Catherine.

“Charlotte, sit up with your back to the headboard. Faye, get down on her, eat her, finger her.” Always the director.

Catherine shifted herself so she sat and I shuffled to get my face between her leg which were spread wide, her knees bent. As I began to lick, Van pulled the sheet that was partially covering me aside and knelt behind me, lifting my hips and as I probed Catherine with my tongue I felt Van’s dildo press at my cunt then enter me in a long, slow, oh so slow thrust that made me gasp into Catherine. Van then began a slow, firm series of pelvic thrusts that had me pressing back on her, wanting more, deeper, faster. She obliged and began to increase her pace.

Catherine

Faye’s tongue and fingers were doing their magic but that magic was only a part of the huge arousal I felt as I watched Vanessa’s eyes smiling at me as she fucked Faye. Her nipple rings jiggled as her body moved and Faye’s tongue pushed into me with every thrust of Vanessa’s hips.

“Don’t close your eyes, Charlotte, watch as I fuck your lover, our lover.”

Did she know I was about to cum? I’ll never know but she stopped, pulled out of Faye, who made a soft groan of disappointment and looked back over her shoulder.

“Both of you, on your knees.” I turned and moved to kneel beside Faye. Van’s hand pushed our heads down and we were kissing, arses in the air and it was my turn to feel the dildo as it entered me. I heard a slap but it must have been Faye’s arse she slapped because it was her gasp into my mouth that told me she’d felt the sting. The dildo left me and Faye moved as it entered her and it was then my turn to feel the slap and gasp into Faye.

Vanessa fucked us both, alternately, shifting herself before lying down on her back and directing me to mount her dildo. Faye, seasoned actress that she was, knew her role perfectly and I felt her tongue on my arse as I rode the dildo. That was it for me. I felt myself floating, and heard myself keening and then I was screaming as an orgasm blasted through me.

Eventually, I lay on my back, drawing long, deep breaths as I recovered and, as I did, Faye and Vanessa assumed the missionary position next to me and first Faye then Van followed my example and climaxed noisily.

Van squatted over me. “Clean me up, darling.” Why would I refuse?