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Twelfth Night

Tags: theatre, oral
My First Professional Theatre Job
I had only been out of drama school a week. I was 23. Very penniless. And I had a job. I put the phone down and called my girlfriend. "They want me!" I told her, "They bloody want ME!"

The previous day I had been to a recall for "Twelfth Night", thinking I had no chance as the confirmed cast were mostly TV stalwarts and stage legends. The play was to go on in the West End for 5 months following a 3 month tour of England, Scotland and Ireland, rehearsals starting tomorrow. It was all too much to take in - my girlfriend was working abroad on a TV job, most of my actor-friends were taking a few weeks off after graduation, and I was sitting in my bedsit, employed virtually for the whole year. Unbelievable.

Rehearsals went like a dream. The cast were all lovely people, the director (Sir...) was a genius and every day was a joy. I had a 'cough and a spit role', barely noticeable but I got my own costume and shared a dressing room with two actors who'd just been filming in Canada with a big film director. The stories were great fun to listen to, and for a young green actor, life couldn't be better.

On a tour, each theatre you visit will, after the first night, hold a drinks reception for the cast and theatre members. Always a must-go-to, free drinks and canapes, and serving are the girls who usher the audience in and out of the show. One of these girls was particularly good-looking; short blonde hair, bee-sting lips, blue eyes, pale skin. Her white blouse and black knee-length skirt were theatre-issue, but you could tell her body was curved in all the right places. She looked gorgeous. And another actor also thought so, a TV name, as he spent the first hour or so flirting with her everytime she walked past with her tray of champagne. I offered no competition to someone like that, and remember mentally shrugging my shoulders in resignation.

I did keep looking over at her though, and occasionally she'd see me and smile, invariably coming over to offer me another glass or something to eat. She was very cute, and the more I looked, the more details I can remember picking out - how much of her neck I could see, the swell of her cleavage under her blouse, the lace-shape of her bra, how her skirt accentuated her waist and hips. Whenever I chatted to someone, I found myself making sure I could see her over their shoulder. And she was looking at me! Despite the charm of Mr TV, she was looking my way too! I could pick out her delicate lipstick, her eye liner makeup, and though I wasn't too drunk, my mind was wandering. To overcome nerves in front of people, they say to imagine your audience naked. Believe me, I was doing this and it didn't help with my nerves one bit!

After a couple of hours, I had yet to actually speak to her, and seeing her leave the room to fill her tray with more drinks, I nipped out to the foyer, opened the doors onto the balcony and started a cigarette. Of course I was aroused, as horny as boys get after a few drinks and a little flirt, when they know nothing will come of it, and was thinking of getting back to my digs - a quick masturbate and bed!

"Can I borrow a light?" And there she was, stepping out onto the balcony, cigarette in hand. "Sorry to scare you!" she laughed, and I gave her my lighter.

"No, of course," I stuttered, "I was just thinking about...stuff." I'm sure I blushed!

So we started talking, about the weather probably at first, the about my job and her job and how rubbish the town was where we were. She was home from uni for the summer and did this job to fill time. We talked about her wanting to get into acting; she was asking me advice and of course I was giving it large, acting the big success when in truth I knew barely more than she did. And all the time I was aware of her, the way her head tilted when she laughed, how she blew the smoke out, how she stood next to me, how she'd playfully nudge me when she said something that made me smile. And even outside, even through the cigarette smoke, I could smell her delicate perfume. We weren't flirting necessarily, but there was a part of me that wanted to kiss her...

"Listen," she said, "I don't want to get you in trouble, but is there any way you could get me onto the stage? I know it sounds silly, but even though I've worked here for a month, I want to get into acting and I've never been on the stage. Only for a second, like I said I don't want to get you into trouble, but..." Bolstered by the drink, and flattered that she had spent so much time with me of all people, I smiled. "Okay, sure. We'll have to be quick though." I opened the balcony doors for her, watching her cute bottom press against her skirt. "What about work?" I asked. "No, I finished when I came out here," she replied, and walked through the auditorium door, pulled it open and vanished inside. I hurried after her, either a bit nervous that I would get in trouble, or...excited?

To the side of the stage is the little door that take you directly onto the stage via the sound and light desk, props tables, quick-change booths and scenery. The working lights were still on but they only cast a dull light so we had to be careful. After each show the stage is reset to the opening of the play, in this case a huge chaise longue and bean-bag-type beds. She stood quietly in the middle of it all with a huge smile on her face. "Oh my God," she whispered. "This is amazing, I'm so excited, and you get to do this all the time!" I walked up beside her and said in a mock-Shakespearean voice, "My princess awaits me, amongst the bowers, in a bed" - why did I say that? I don't know, I just thought it'd be something silly and flirty to say, but she turned round to me and kissed me full on the lips, seemed to hesitate then pushed her tongue into my mouth. I have never had an erection so fast, and I held her bum and pulled her hips towards me, feeling her body tense as we kissed harder and deeper. She pressed her hand against my crotch and feeling how hard I was, whispered "On the bed" in my ear. In the weak light, we moved quickly to the chaise longue, she sitting on it and me in front of her, she undoing my jeans and letting her fingers pull my cock out of my boxer shorts, pausing only to undo her blouse and pull her bra down so her breasts were free. She leant forward and licked my cock and then her mouth was all over it, her lips and tongue kissing and licking and sucking, her head moving back and forward, the only sounds my heavy breathing and her mouth working on my massively hard penis, her gasps as I watched her rub her nipples.

I had never felt so turned on before, especially as we shouldn't have been on stage and certainly not getting hot and heavy with each other.And all too soon, it was over. She knew I was about to come so she took my cock out of her mouth and, rubbing it, aimed it at her breasts, letting me cum onto her chest as I struggled not to make more noise. She let me finish, pulling my foreskin back to squeeze every last drop out, a gleeful look on her face. She rolled onto her tummy, wiped herself against one of the pillows, stood up and said "I really wanted to do that for you." She tucked herself back into her bra, did up her blouse and tucked it into her skirt. I pulled up my boxers and jeans, rather speechless I have to say, as we now stood together as if nothing had happened at all. "I'd like to see you for a drink tomorrow, if you want," she whispered. "My family's away on holiday until Thursday you know."

Standing on stage the following night, about to deliver my one line, I looked at the chaise longue and saw a dark patch on one of the pillows Orsino was resting against. And no, I didn't stay at my digs that night.

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