Midsummer's Nightmare

Now Playing 1: Midsummer’s Nightmare Sahara Kelly All rights reserved. Copyright ©2004 by Sahara Kelly No part of th...

Author: Kelly Sahara

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Now Playing 1: Midsummer’s Nightmare Sahara Kelly All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2004 by Sahara Kelly

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical

means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior

written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN 1-59596-016-3

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

PO Box 1561

Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Pat Haley Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Chapter 1 “Oh pardon me, Miss La-Dee-Dah!” Colin Fenton couldn’t keep the sarcasm from dripping from his voice, much as the sweat was dripping off his forehead. Perched amidst the rafters above the stage and secured by a rather elderly set of frayed ropes, Colin’s patience was wearing thin. “Look, Mr. Fenton. It’s not a complex instruction. Moonlight. I want moonlight, all right? One single spot, filtered with whatever it is you use to filter these things with, and shining down on the glade to simulate moonlight.” Maude Henshaw’s hands sat firmly on her shapely hips as she frowned up at him, tapping her neat shoe on the floor. He wasn’t about to tell her that from this angle, he could see straight down the front of her crisply tailored shirt into the rather alluring cleavage beneath. There was a wisp of pink lace showing too. “Mr. Fenton? Did you understand me?” Colin sighed. Why him? “Yes, Maudie darlin’. Moonlight. I got it.” She winced. “The name is not Maudie, it’s Maude. Miss Henshaw to you. Now get me that damn moonlight. Rehearsal starts in about fifteen minutes, and I need you off the stage.” And I need you moaning out my name underneath me, Maudie. Colin adjusted the spotlight, then shimmied carefully back down the scaffolding, trying to avoid slicing off his dick with the ropes. Why, out of all the women in town, this particular one had to get him hard, he had no frickin’ clue. She was brash, rude, snotty to the point of assholeness, and had the best set of tits and backside he’d ever seen. He sighed, unbuckling his tool belt and stashing it away behind the scenery. He had to be seriously sick in the head. He’d never liked blondes, despised people who

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thought their shit smelled like violets, and had little or no respect for those who didn’t earn it. And Maude Henshaw was all of the above. And she got him harder than an I-beam just by walking past him, swaying that fine ass and leaving a soft musky scent in her wake. She’d been asked by the Amateur Theatrical Society to direct this production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Colin swore Shakespeare himself would have plugged her with his quill if she’d been around a few hundred years ago. He still couldn’t figure out why he had the most violent urge to plug her with something else, or why she featured in a number of dreams and fantasies he’d started having a couple of weeks ago when his work as stage manager on this whole frickin’ play began, and why -- when all she did was spit out orders -- he wanted to strip her and fuck her blind. He had to be out of his fucking mind. He wanted nothing more than an hour or so with his current date-of-choice, which he usually preferred served in an ice-cold, tall, glass bottle from behind the bar of the Fisherman’s Rod, a comfy and noisy little establishment right across the street from the theater. But the sound of arguing voices coming from backstage and nearing the curtains told him his beer would have to wait. He sighed. “Well, I don’t care. It fucking hurts…” The tone was petulant and whiny. Colin immediately identified Sally Pidgeon, the town’s reigning sex symbol. “Oh be a trouper, for God’s sake.” Maude erupted onto the stage with a frown creasing her usually composed features. She pulled the curtains apart as Sally stepped through. Or tried to. Colin bit back a guffaw as Sally struggled with the most massive skirt he’d ever seen. It looked like the equivalent of most of the curtains in his apartment, and Sally’s flaming red hair was surrounded by some sort of net thing sticking up at least a foot in

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the air behind her. Her breasts were squashed flat, no small feat of engineering, and apparently, this was the reason for her complaints. “Uh, Sal? Nice dress.” His comment earned him a sharp glare from both women. Maude opened her mouth to respond, but a booming voice from the darkness of the orchestra section interrupted her. “How now, good players…” The voice resolved itself into the surprisingly small figure of a rotund man, striding jovially up the aisle with purpose and vigor. “Ah, Maude. And Sally… ‘Well met by moonlight, fair Tit --‘ What the fuck’s that?” Joviality and vigor were replaced with shock and a certain degree of horror. Marshall Wentworth, the sponsor of the Amateur Theatrical Company, erstwhile producer, and leading citizen, held out a dramatically trembling hand and pointed at Sally’s gown. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and Colin could see a vein throbbing in his temple. Goddamn little man was going to give himself a coronary if he kept it up. “That, Mister Wentworth, is a farthingale.” Maude favored her producer with her haughtiest look. “It’s accurate down to the last bead, and is exactly what women wore at the time Shakespeare wrote this play.” He flapped his jaw a couple of times and swallowed. Colin leaned quietly against a fake tree, and watched the show. “But… but…” He drew himself up to his full five-foot-three. “I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s what Shakespeare wore while he took a crap. Where’s Sally’s tits?” Maude snorted. “Exactly where they were last time you saw them, Marshall.” Ooh. Nice one. Touchdown for the snippy bitch. “Well nobody else can bloody see them, can they? What the fuck were you thinking stuffing her into something that looks more like a pillow from my old Aunt Minnie’s?” Marshall was now on the stage, huffing and dancing ‘round the statuesque Sally rather like a pug trying to hump a Great Dane.

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Maude curled her lip. “I was thinking that since I’m directing this play, I would be expected to produce historical accuracy. I was thinking that costumes were important. I was thinking that the audience would expect to see the actors dressed up. Not in torn jeans or belly rings. Obviously I was wrong. Silly me.” Colin suppressed a snicker. Nobody had ever looked less silly. Put a flaming sword in Maude’s hand and she could have modeled for the “Angel of Vengeance”, which happened to be one of his favorite cartoon heroines. Of course, she’d have to lose the shirt and suit and replace them with that leather strappy thing… He yanked his thoughts away from visions of Maude in black leather and back to the argument still taking place. “Miz Henshaw.” Marshall hissed out the words. “The audience expects to see a good deal more of our Sally here than twelve yards of cheap upholstery fabric. In fact, that’s pretty much what they’ll be paying for. You don’t think I suggested her for Titania because of her acting skills, do you?” “Hey, Marshieeee…” Sally’s ripe lips formed a little pout. “I can act good, honey, you said so yourself.” Both combatants ignored her. “So you’re suggesting I grab about twelve square inches of transparent lace and have her prance around nearly naked like some two-bit stripper? This is Shakespeare, you philistine.” Sparks flew from Maude’s blue eyes. “This is theater, you… you… director.” Marshall remembered himself just in time. “And a theater doesn’t produce squat if there’s no audience. My audience, and it is my audience, make no mistake, is gonna want to see Sally. A lot of Sally. Get rid of this monstrosity. It’s ugly and hides her best assets. She’s supposed to be a frickin’ fairy, for Chrissake, not an overstuffed ottoman.” He finished up his tirade hidden behind Sally where he fumbled and swore, finally loosening whatever it was that constricted her. “Ooooh, Marshy, that’s ever so much better.” The dress tottered and gaped, and even Colin winced as Sally’s enhanced breasts exploded from within their confinement.

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Maude hissed through her teeth. “Fine. Mister Producer. I’ll let you decide all the costuming, then, all right? Perhaps we should put Oberon into some skintight pants as well. See-through ones. Maybe the ladies would like a close up look at his assets too. You tell me. It’s your audience…” She gathered her papers together on her clipboard and turned away, stalking down the stage to the steps leading to the exit. Oh no you don’t. Colin quickly followed her. This is one mad that’s too good to waste alone.

*** Maude stepped into the night air and drew a shaky breath. Goddamn that interfering little twit. All he could think about was the bottom line, the take, the number of paying customers. He never spared a moment’s consideration for the drama itself. She sighed long and loud. “Jeez, woman, that’s one big sigh for a little girl.” Oh swell. Just when she thought her night couldn’t get any worse, he had to appear behind her. “What did you expect? Wild, unbridled laughter?” Keep your cool. Maude battled inwardly, fighting a rather scary attraction to this quietly handsome man who shimmied up and down the stage rigging and watched her with eyes that haunted her dreams. His ass had a tendency to sneak into them, too. “Some wild and unbridled… laughter… might do you good. C’mon.” Colin slid his arm through hers and started her walking across the street. “Where are you taking me?” “For a drink. You need one. So do I. So does anyone who has to deal with Marshall for more than about five minutes. The man’s got a good heart, but I’m not so sure about his brains. He tends to think with his… um…” He flashed her a quick grin. “Well, let’s just say that Sally brings out the testosterone in him.” Maude snorted and let him lead her through the doors of the small bar. “I’ve never been in here before.” She glanced around curiously.

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“It’s nice. The people are friendly.” He nodded at the bartender and led her to a smaller table at the back of the room. “It’s a good place to relax. And I think relaxation is in order don’t you?” She had to agree with him. Well, she didn’t have to, exactly, but she wanted to. There were a couple of other things she wanted as well, but she wasn’t going to think about those at all. Nope. Not at all. Fortunately, a waitress arrived at the table before Maude could lose herself in thoughts she absolutely wasn’t going to have. “The usual, Vicki honey. And Maude’ll have… ?” Colin raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh… er… I don’t drink.” He blinked. “Hmm. Well… perhaps iced tea?” “Oh yes, that would be lovely.” Colin grinned. “Long Island iced tea for the lady, sweetheart. On my tab, okay?” Vicki raised her eyebrows but said nothing and left as Maude tipped her head at the man seated next to her. “That’s very nice of you, Mr. Fenton. But not necessary.” “A gentleman always buys the lady’s drinks, Maude. And please call me Colin. You say ‘Mr. Fenton’ like that one more time, and I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.” Oh God. Promise? “I apologize for my formality.” She swallowed down a lump of something strangely resembling lust that had clogged her throat. “Colin.” “Relax, babe. You’re among friends in here. You can back off the iron maiden bit, let your hair down.” His gaze wandered over her head and she struggled against the urge to smooth it and make sure it was neat. Damn. This man was definitely having an effect on her, and had done so since she’d first met him. “So what do you do when you’re not directing plays and stuffing Sally’s breasts into a corset?” She bit back a grin. “Look, it really was historically authentic, you know…” “I don’t doubt it. I can’t imagine you settling for anything less than perfection.”

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Maude looked at him. “Well, I suppose so. If I’m going to do something, then I believe I should do it right. If that’s seeking perfection, then yes. I’m guilty as charged.” The waitress returned with their drinks and slid a tall brown bottle in front of Colin, then plopped down a paper coaster and placed a frosty glass full of dark liquid in front of Maude. She sipped and raised her eyebrows. “Wow. This iced tea is different. What’s in it?” Colin took a long satisfying swig from his beer. “This and that. Soda, fruit juices… you know, that sort of thing.” Maude’s stomach relaxed. “Oh good. It’s tasty.” She took another swallow and leaned back in her chair. “After a day like this one, culminating in that stupid argument, I needed this.” She raised her glass. “Thank you.” She sucked down about a quarter of the drink. Damn, that was good. Mmm mmm. “You’re welcome.” His grin was lazy and slow, making her feel all warm and tingly inside. “It’s nice to see you smile. You have a lovely smile, Maudie darlin’. You should show it more often.” “I do?” Good Lord, she’d squeaked. “Yep. Makes a man think of all sorts of really nice things, that smile of yours.” “Uh… like what?” Maude mentally slapped herself upside the ear. Get a grip, woman. Somehow, the thing that should have been “getting a grip” had decided to take a nap. She could only sit there and stare at this lovely sexy hunk of man that she’d like to strip naked and… holy heck. She finished another hefty swallow of her drink. “Oh, like summer nights, fireflies… brave new worlds that have such creatures in them…” Maude gulped. “You’re a Shakespeare fan…” “I’ve been known to read a few books without pictures, yeah.” “I didn’t mean it like that…” she sputtered. “It’s just to look at you, all man and chest and… and stuff…” She waved her hand helplessly at him.

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“You think I’m all man, huh?” He ran a hand idly over the glass bottle, and she found herself staring at his long fingers. What would they feel like running over her body… just like that? “Of course you are. You shed it like cat hair. Good Lord, I can’t walk past you without…” She stopped, horrified, and covered her mouth with her hands. Please, dear God, tell me I didn’t say that out loud. His lips curled into a seductive smile. “Without what, Maudie?” Oh… shit.

Chapter 2 There was no doubt in his mind. Miss Maudie was getting tipsy on just one drink. Of course, it was one of the most potent ones around, but Colin’s conscience simply grinned at him. How was he supposed to know it would hit her like a brick and turn her into a loose-lipped blabbermouth? And why should he complain, since she was blabbering about his masculinity and what it did to her? And it was all good stuff, turning her pinker than the sunset, and stiffening his cock inside his jeans as he quickly realized that his high-and-mighty dream woman might just have a few fantasies of her own about him. Right now though, they looked like they included disappearing into a large hole beneath her. She stared at him over her hand, which she’d plastered over her mouth in horror after blurting out the fact that she found him attractive. He couldn’t -- just couldn’t -- let it go. “So. You think I’m attractive, Maudie?” His voice was low, pitched so only she could hear it. She blinked, dropped her hand into her lap, and sighed. “Me and my big mouth.” Oh yeah. That mouth. I want that mouth. On me. On my dick. Colin suppressed a squirm as his pants started to strangle him. She squared her shoulders and hiccupped. “Yes.” The look was defiant. “There. I’ve said it, okay? You’re attractive. You’re… nice looking in a manly sort of way.” “Ah.” He raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?” “No.” She finished her drink and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “You sure there was only fruit juice in this thing?”

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He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. “There might have been a shot of something or other too… I forget. You said iced tea and it was the first thing that came into my mind.” She frowned at him. “You’ve got me inbrodid… uneeedri… inobri… drunk. You… you… lecher.” He frowned back. “Did not. You did that to yourself. And I’m not a lecher. That’s a lousy thing to say to a guy who just wanted to buy you a drink and help you relax after a hard day.” “I’m sorry.” She sighed again and drooped in her seat. “It really was a rotten day. And putting that drink down on an empty stomach, and sitting across from you and your chest… well… there we are.” Where? My chest? Colin blinked. He was having a helluva hard time following her conversation, especially since parts of his brain kept veering off and diving down her cleavage. Images of pink lace tantalized his neural circuits and had nothing to do with the one beer he’d had. They all had to do with Maudie and her bra. And her lips. Goddamn. They were lovely lips. He took a breath. “Sweetheart, I have to tell you something, seeing as we’re sharing… stuff… here. I find you attractive too.” She jerked her head up and stared at him. “Me?” He reached out and brushed a soft wisp of hair from her cheek. “Yeah, you.” “But… but… I’m me. I don’t have pigeon breasts.” “Pigeons have breasts?” Colin struggled. “No, no… breasts like Sally Pidgeon.” “Oooh…” Daylight dawned over Colin’s befuddled brain. “You don’t need ‘em. The ones you’ve got work very nicely for me, thank you.” She snorted. “How would you know?” “I don’t. But the thought of finding out has kept me awake a lot recently.”

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Maude blinked at him. “Oh, God. Me too.” She blushed, but he grabbed her hand before she could slap it over her mouth again. “Maudie, Maudie… what am I gonna do with you?” Her eyes fell to his lips. “How about I go for broke here. Why don’t you just kiss me and get it over with?” He thought about it for a full one and a half seconds. “Okay.” And, with infinite care, he leaned over the table, cupped the back of her head, and put his mouth on hers. And his world exploded.

Maude jumped like she’d been zapped as their lips met. Part of it was the undeniable sizzle of his kiss, but most of it was the fact that the three-foot speaker that had been lurking behind their table suddenly blasted into life. Either that, or his touch made her eardrums implode and start ringing with a very loud and raucous screech. He jumped too. Okay. It was the speaker. Thank the Lord, because if his kiss did something like that to her, then God only knew what would happen if they went any further… and God probably already knew how much she wanted that! “C’mon, babe, let’s get out of here.” His arms were around her, gathering her purse, brushing her hair and her shoulders, and helping her stand, steadying her as she staggered a little. It felt like he had twelve hands and not one of them was anyplace she wanted it. Her breasts ached, her nipples were rubbing against that stupid lace bra, and she had the sneaking suspicion her panties were wet. She surrendered, leaning against that wonderful chest. And sighed with pleasure. Another blast of something which might have passed for music on a hot and dusty desert plain when two tribes were trying to communicate over vast unpopulated distances made her wince.

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He led her carefully between the tables and out the door before she realized it. Well hell. He could take her anywhere he wanted, as long as she remained up against that fabulous chest. She sighed again. It was warm and firm, and if she put her fingers just… there… she could actually sneak a quick feel of it between the buttons. It burned her skin. Oh my… I wanna lick it. A lot. This is so not me. But oooh -- it’s nice. Probably tastes of vanilla. Or cinnamon. Oranges, maybe? Lost in her own thoughts, she was jerked back to reality as something hard met her back and something hot met her front. “Now. Where were we?” Colin had whisked them around the corner from the bar into a dimly lit alley, and pressed her up against the wall. His body crushed hers rather deliciously, and she wasted all of a millisecond just appreciating the sensation. Maude let go of everything but the need burgeoning inside her. She raised her hands to his face. “Right about here, I think…” And she kissed him. He was all tongue and teeth and heat and tasted… well, like nothing she’d ever imagined. She strained against him, loving the plunging feeling of his movements inside her mouth. She plunged back, imitating him, dueling with him and pressed back -- hard against his body as the fire raged between them. Obeying some natural instinct, she found her hips thrusting forward, blindly seeking that lovely bulge in the front of his jeans, expressing the hope that various body parts could be less formally introduced at some point in the very near future. His hips thrust back, and she moaned deep in her throat as her thighs parted, one leg involuntarily sliding up his thigh. “Maudie, Maudie…” He muttered her name against her lips as his hands scrabbled at her buttons. She wanted to answer, but found her own hands tugging at the back of his shirt, pulling it free of his pants and finally letting her fingers touch his bare skin. And the sensation robbed her of all coherent thought. Well, that along with the fact that Colin had found her bra, opened it, and was now busily caressing a very happy non-Pidgeon breast.

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He kissed her again, harder this time as his fingers toyed with her nipple, making her shudder and groan and generally go into “wild-and-wanton-slut” mode. And still it wasn’t enough. She drew her hands up his back beneath his shirt, tensing as he flicked her nipple, digging her nails into his spine as he rolled the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, you’re sooo hot, Maudie…” The words came out on a sigh as he pulled her shirt away from her and bent to her breast. “I want to eat you up… slowly…” He tongued her nipple, sending her into madness-inducing ecstasy. It must have induced madness, since she did something she’d never done before, and let one hand delve between them, desperately searching for that nice bit of male stuff she knew was there. He groaned. There it was. Mmmm. His hands moved, sliding up beneath her skirt now. Not a hardship, since in her current position the damn thing was practically up to her waist anyway. Since it was summer, no pantyhose got in his way, and within seconds he was tugging silk away from hot skin… and his fingers found her. She gasped, staggering a little as he unerringly hit her clit right on the… button. Holy instant orgasm. “Christ, Maudie, you’re coming, aren’t you?” Christ, Colin, you’re a dimwit if you can’t figure that one out. He slid two fingers inside her, and her juices dampened his hand as he worked her, touching those most sensitive spots with amazing accuracy, sending her over the edge with almost frightening ease. She opened her mouth to scream. He covered it with his and swallowed the sound, keeping his hand moving inside her as she spasmed around him. Maude disappeared into some mental void where the only thing that mattered was the sensation he was creating inside her pussy.

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Her back arched toward him, her breasts roughly crushed against him, and she gave way, letting the shudders rock her world. It was incredible, wonderful, and ohmigod… Colin had frozen. Immobile, scarcely breathing, he’d frozen against her, fingers still tucked deep into her pussy. She shivered. “Maude…” His voice was no more than a whisper. “What?” “There’s something between my legs.” “I sure hope so.” She bit back a small giggle and reached down to his crotch again, feeling… feeling… Good Lord! Where was it? “Um… Colin?” She reached further down to his balls and did a little bit of freezing herself as what seemed suspiciously like a tongue swiped her fingers with shocking suddenness. “Holy shit.”

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Chapter 3 Colin was so immersed in the woman having a crashingly huge orgasm around his fingers that it had taken a moment or two for him to realize that the pressure between his legs wasn’t coming from inside his jeans. Hell, there was enough pressure in that general area to blow the Hoover Dam, so a little more wasn’t really noticeable. Until it moved. The sensation had rooted him to the spot and shriveled his dick into a limp, terror-filled organ trying to hide its head in his kidneys. There was something or someone behind him. “Uh -- Colin?” He could feel Maude’s breasts move as she drew a breath, mostly because they were still naked and rubbing against his chest. “Yes?” “You got some odd alien thing going on here, like an extra appendage or two?” He shook his head, too scared to answer or move. “Well, in that case, something else just licked my hand.” Seeing as the hand in question was currently between his legs cradling what was left of a set of terrified balls, Colin felt that his fear was justified. Maude moved a little, slowly easing herself to the side and peeking around his arm. “Hoookay.” She relaxed a little. “There’s something that looks like a cross between a small tank and a haystack sitting behind you.” She paused. “Wagging its tail.” Colin felt the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh and his whole body sagged with relief. “Goddamn it… Betty, you bitch…” “Woooof.”

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A piercing whistle sounded and the creature resolved itself into a cheerful lump of matted fur, moving around the couple against the wall and letting them know how happy it was to see them. “Betty?” Maude struggled with her clothing as the dog tried to help by licking her knee. “Eeeeuuww. Dog tongue.” “Down, girl.” Colin’s voice was firm. “Yeah, Betty. We call her that ‘cause she’s a beast and not a beauty.” “What?” “Long story.” He peeled his chest regretfully away from Maude’s breasts, and sighed. The moment was lost, that was for sure. He’d given Maude a fabulous orgasm and would probably have been enjoying his own right about now if it hadn’t been for one friendly dog. Another whistle was followed by a yell. “Betty, you bitch… where are you, girl?” The dog turned, ears aloft, and woofed happily. “Shit. It’s my boss.” Colin straightened his own clothing, swallowing down a curse. Sometimes life really did manage to kick you in the nuts. Or lick you in the nuts. It had been the same damn thing tonight. “It’s your boss’s dog?” “Uh, yeah, kinda.” And he really didn’t want to be caught groping a woman in a back alley by the man who could, and would, make his life a living nightmare if he saw them. Harry’s sense of humor could be excruciatingly pointed at times, and this was one opportunity Colin did not want to give him. “Come on, I think it’s time we headed back to the theater. I have to lock up anyway.” His body grunted at him, the remnants of unsatisfied lust roiling in his gut. “Colin… I’m… look… about what happened…” Maude was walking beside him and trying to straighten her panties at the same time. Any other moment, and Colin would have paused to watch her antics, but right now he just needed to get away from Harry’s prying eyes.

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His pace quickened, and Maude trotted alongside, trying to pry a wedgie from between her ass cheeks with a wriggle and a kick. He felt a laugh coming on, and bit down on it. A smart man didn’t laugh at a woman with stuck underwear, at least not when he was responsible for getting it sticky in the first place. He whisked her around a corner, heaving a breath of relief as the street lights shone down on an almost empty street. Colin led Maude across the road toward the couple of cars left outside the theater . “Honey, it was wonderful.” He dropped a light kiss on her hair. “Yes, but…” A woof sounded in the distance. “Fuck. He’s coming this way. Is this your car?” Colin stopped in front of a quietly nondescript sedan, and Maude nodded. “Good. Go on home, sweetheart. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” With rather unseemly haste for someone who’d just finger-fucked her until her eyeballs rattled, Colin opened her car door, hurrying her inside. She barely had a chance to nod. He leaned in, kissed her hard, then slammed the door, striding around the car and into the shadows of the theater lobby before she’d started the engine. Only when the darkness of the foyer surrounded him did he breathe easily again. That had been too fucking close. He raised his hand to his face and inhaled, smelling the scent of Maude on his fingers. The urge overwhelmed him and he licked his skin, savoring the slight tang her body had left behind. He got hard all over again.

*** Maude sat awkwardly behind the small desk in the miniscule room that doubled as costume storage and office for the director of the play. It was always a tight fit, but it seemed worse now that the rest of the room was filled with Sally Pidgeon. And her breasts. “I have to say that I like this ever so much better, Maude,” giggled Sally. This was about two feet of delicate pink satin, through which light gleefully passed and

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which left little to the imagination of the onlooker. Except perhaps Sally’s birthday. “It’s more fairy-like, too, don’t ya think?” She preened and flexed her shoulders, although Maude knew very well that if she were a real fairy she’d need wings equivalent in size to a C-130 cargo plane just to achieve lift-off. Her “payload” wobbled energetically behind its thin screen. “Er, yes.” There, that was diplomatic. Hopefully unrevealing. Unlike Sally’s costume. It was late in the day and a full-scale dress rehearsal was to begin shortly, a final preparation for the grand debut of the play, less than forty-eight hours away. “And Marshy loooooves it,” finished Sally complacently. “Ah. Good.” Maude fiddled with a pencil, unsure how to respond to that statement. “You and Marshall… you’re… um…” Sally smiled sunnily. “Yep. We’re seeing each other.” Maude gazed through the silk. A lot of each other too, I should imagine. “Of course, I know what you’re thinking.” Sally shrugged, sending rippling earthquakes shuddering through her mammary tissues. Maude restrained the urge to hold on to her desk against the aftershocks. “You do?” “Oh yes. Everyone always says the same thing. He’s too old for me.” She giggled again. “But you know, sometimes I think an older man is ever so much better.” She leaned forward, seriously jeopardizing the tiny seams that held her costume together. “They know what to do, if you catch my drift.” She looked knowing. Ah. Girl-to-girl stuff. Maude nodded and attempted her own “knowing” look. Any minute now they’d be tapping the sides of their noses and giving each other a secret handshake or something. “So… you two been dating long?” Sally smiled. “Yeah, a year or so I guess. I mean it’s not like there aren’t other men in town, but you know… when the right one comes along, something just goes ping.” “Ping?”

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“Mmmm hmm. Ping. You get all hot and bothered and your heart gets all fluttery and you can’t think of anything to say when all you want to do is… but you know what I mean.” Maude held her tongue. Twenty-four hours ago she’d have been at a complete loss, but now… now… after last night, she had a damn good idea what Sally meant. “Ping,” however, was an understatement. It had been more like “Kapow.” “Uh huh.” “There was Harry Stone -- he asked me out several times. You met him yet?” Maude shook her head. “I don’t think so.” “Oh you’d know if you did,” laughed Sally. “He’s one big man. All over, so they say. Runs the local construction company. Oh… he’s Colin’s boss, too.” “Ah.” Maude sat up straighter. “He has a dog, doesn’t he? I think I made her acquaintance last night.” And you’d never believe it if I told you what I was doing at the time. “That would be Betty, yeah. Sweet pup. Bit of a horse at times, but very, very sweet. Actually, rather like Colin now I come to think of it.” Maude had done little but think of “it” for the last twenty-odd hours. Sally couldn’t possibly have known the control Maude had to exert to keep her next question casual. “Colin seems like a very nice man. How come you’re not dating him?” “Colin? Date Colin?” Sally’s eyebrows flew upward in amazement. “You’re not from around here are you?” Maude blinked. “I don’t understand. He’s good looking, well-spoken, friendly, what’s the matter with him?” A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Oh God… he’s not gay, is he?” Sally squealed with laughter. “No! Not our Colin.” She held her sides and rocked with mirth, undulating beneath the silk as her lungs heaved for breath. Maude sat and watched, one eyebrow raised, pencil tapping on the desktop. “So what’s wrong with him? He seems to have all the requisite parts…” Oh baby, does he ever. She prayed her nipples would behave themselves, since they showed a distressing

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tendency to get all uppity whenever she thought of Colin. And his hands. And his mouth… Damn. She reached for a script, opened it, and held it up in front of her. “Colin…” hiccupped Sally. “Our Colin… he’s known as ‘The Death Date’.” Maude stared. “The what?” “The ‘Death Date’. You know, like in the ‘Kiss of Death’?” “I don’t get it.” Sally sighed. “It started back in high school. He dated Tawny and she ran off with her high school sweetheart.” Maude frowned. “But… if they were in high school to start with…” “Yes, but this was her real, one-and-only, honest-to-God high school sweetheart.” “But…” Sally waved her hand. “Whatever. The result was that Tawny married him and they’ve got four children now.” Maude struggled to follow. “Okay. So why does this make Colin the dating version of the Grim Reaper?” “Huh?” “Never mind, go on.” Maude sat back, realizing that she’d better let Sally tell this in her own way, or they’d be at it long after the last show had closed its doors. Some people were succinct. Sally couldn’t even spell it. “Well, after Tawny there was Cara. He dated her for two years, and we all thought this was it, and then she fell and broke her leg.” “So… what… they shot her?” Sally looked horrified. “Oh no.” Maude sighed. “He took her to the hospital, and she met and fell in love with a doctor and they’ve got four children now too.” Sally nodded her head in a “you see?” sort of gesture. “I still don’t get the connection.” Maude tried hard, but was lost.

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“Then there was Ann.” Sally settled in to her story. “Ann was a newcomer to town, and Colin got her a job at the construction company. She was learning how to use the heavy equipment and they sent her on a two-day course.” She looked up at Maude. “You can guess the rest.” “Is there a front-end loader involved?” “Married the instructor. Never came back to the office. Three kids now, I hear.” Sally shook her head sadly. “His most recent date was Susan.” “Susan.” “Yep.” Sally looked quite knowing again. She was rather good at that expression. Pity it didn’t help her in the role of Titania. Maude yanked her thoughts out of their confusion. “So what happened to Susan?” “Her house burned down.” “That’s dreadful.” Maude looked suitably horrified. “Yep. And what’s worse…” Sally leaned forward to make her point. “Susan fell in love with one of the firemen who rescued her.” She looked thoughtful. “I suppose any time a guy carries a woman down a ladder in nothing but her nightie it’s pretty romantic, huh?” Maude nodded. “Anyhoooo, the same thing happened. Susan’s pregnant with her second child. And Colin is the ‘Date of Death’ now.” Maude’s brow wrinkled. “So… let me see if I’ve got this straight. Women who date Colin end up falling in love with and marrying somebody else?” “And getting lots of kids. Don’t forget that part. That’s the really scary part…” Sally ran her hand across her own flat stomach. “I mean kids are cute and all, but gee whiz…” Maude had to laugh. “You honestly think that Colin’s responsible for these women finding their husbands?”

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Sally looked mildly insulted. “Well it’s not just me. After Susan, the girls in town pretty much divided up into two groups. There’s those who don’t want to get married and wouldn’t date Colin on a bet, and those who do and keep badgering him to go out with them, or get them into an accident or something so they can be rescued and find their own true loves.” “That’s… that’s absolutely absurd.” Maude was outraged. “To label a guy because the women he’s dated are now happily married with families… why, I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.” Sally quirked an eyebrow at her. “Hah. You don’t see him dating anyone now, do you?” Sadly, no. But maybe… Maude’s mind whirled. She had an all-electric apartment, no high-school sweetheart of any description. and always watched where she walked. Using heavy machinery was out of the question. Perhaps she was safe? A tap on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Five minutes, Sally, Miz Henshaw.” Sally leaped to her feet, doing dangerous things to her costume once more. If she pulled a move like that on stage, she’d take the eye out of anyone in Row A. It was a small theater after all. “Oh goody. The show must go on, right Maude?” Maude closed her eyes and swallowed. Yep. The show must go on. And out there, somewhere, up in the darkness of the “flies” rigging the scenery, would be the “Date of Death.” She’d stayed in her office, avoiding him for most of the afternoon. But, as the Bard would say, “the hour was nigh.” It was time to face the consequences of her actions. Time to take the bull by the horns, the bit between her teeth… she ran out of metaphors. Shit.

Chapter 4 All things considered, thought Colin as he stood in the shadowed wings, the rehearsal hadn’t been half bad. There’d been a moment or two of terror when the “Wall” and the actor concealed within had nearly toppled from the low stage into the front row seats. Hermia’s costume was too big and kept slipping down, and Helena’s dress was too small and kept riding up. Oberon looked magnificent in his tights, but had a hard time concealing the boner he got every time Sally/Titania jiggled her breasts near him. Of course, dialogue was forgotten and Mrs. Hardigan, the prompter, had been kept very busy reminding the actors of their lines. The fact that she’d taught most of them English in junior high school made her a force to be reckoned with, and even the most mature of performers had glanced somewhat nervously in her direction when that sibilant hiss had been needed to stimulate their thought processes. However, the stage itself looked pretty good, even for an amateur company, and if it wasn’t quite the Globe Theater or forest glen, the greenery looked close enough to the real thing if you were a bit shortsighted and sitting further back than Row G. Colin sighed. He had one major problem. Well, make that two major problems. The first one was the rigging that was supposed to fly the character of Puck onto the stage. It just flat didn’t work, and Colin was at a loss to figure out why. His second problem was sitting in the front row, observing the production critically and crossing and uncrossing those shapely legs of hers, driving him slowly but surely out of his frickin’ mind. They hadn’t run into each other during the afternoon, since he’d been above the stage most of the time, and she’d been backstage doing God knew what. Director type stuff, he supposed.

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And by the time she’d appeared, the cast was assembled and ready to go, awaiting the first lines of the play… the arrival of the court nobles to declaim something about “nuptials.” Basically, Shakespeare’s roundabout way of telling the audience these folks couldn’t wait to get it on with each other. Colin was no sixteenth century bard. He could have put it in a much simpler way. He wanted to get it on with Maude. He wanted to do what they’d done last night and not get interrupted by a dog with a crotch-fetish. He wanted to do it in private. He wanted to do it naked and horizontal, too. Several times. But she’d sat there, in all her tailored glory, looking like a pin-up from “Professional Woman’s Weekly”, and so far from the hot piece of lust he’d held in his arms last night that it could have been a different woman. He fought with the nasty feeling that she’d only touched him and let him touch her because she was half-drunk. That under ordinary circumstances, someone like her would never even consider sitting down with a humble construction worker masquerading as a stage-manager, let alone encouraging him to finger-fuck her into an orgasm up against a wall. But God, he wanted to do it again, and this time with his cock instead of, or maybe as well as, his fingers. And his mouth. The memory of her taste still lingered, and he wanted to make her come with his tongue until she screamed for mercy. And then fuck her. Again and again. And after he got his breath back, he’d probably repeat the entire process. Fuck it. He wanted to do it. And the thought of doing it was confusing him, muddling him, and stopping him from thinking clearly about why Puck was making like a small Apache helicopter instead of a delicately-winged dragonfly. He stared once again at the rigging and tried to banish Maude to the back of his mind. The stage was clearing now, since Puck had “landed” long enough to deliver his final soliloquy and beg the audience to give the actors “their hands.” He hoped there’d be enough family sitting out there to respond enthusiastically, since everyone was really putting their all into it, even Sally. She’d only popped out of

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her costume twice, and other than earning her a round of applause, and sending Oberon into a frenzy of tugging down his unfortunately too-short tunic, the results had been less than catastrophic. He grinned to himself as he adjusted weights and counterbalances and pulled once more on the rope-and-pulley system that was supposed to magically make humans fly. Yep, Sally was going to give the folks their money’s worth, even if it wasn’t quite what Shakespeare originally had in mind. Although, come to think of it, old Will probably would have doubled the profits for the Globe if it had occurred to him. Another rush of people flooded the stage. This time, they looked sort of normal. Jeans had replaced tights, t-shirts were now comfortably caressing bosoms sore from being corseted, and the performers had returned to their usual clothing. Traces of stage makeup smeared a face here and there, but no longer were they part of some nebulous Athenian troop of players. Now they could have shopped the reduced-for-clearance section at Walmart without raising an eyebrow. It was almost sad in some ways, mused Colin, as he watched them laughing and chattering. The theater cast a spell on its denizens, turning them into something else -some fantasy -- not real, but as alive as the words they spoke. The words they were speaking now, however, had to do with where to go party. “Across the street…” yelled Sally. They followed her en masse. Nobody argued with Sally. Not with those breasts. The theater emptied out in seconds flat, leaving Colin alone, unobserved, still lurking in the shadows behind the dusty curtain. He’d join them soon, but really wanted to fix this frickin’ rigging. The sound of the auditorium door clicking locked surprised him, and he moved out onto the stage into the one remaining spotlight. “Hello?” “Aaargh.” A woman’s shriek echoed through the empty hall. Colin could see little, blinded as he was by the light. “Who’s there? I’ll lock up, you don’t have to worry about it…”

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There was silence for a moment, then the tap-tap of heels on the floor as whoever it was walked between the rows of chairs down toward the stage. “Um, Colin? It’s me. Maude.”

Her words may have sounded tentative, but Maude’s mood was anything but. She strode across the hall militantly, acknowledging to herself the emotions that had been building inside her throughout the endless dress rehearsal. She was, to put it bluntly, pissed. Not one word. Not one flicker of an eyebrow, curl of a lip, nothing. She’d sat in the front row, clearly visible, and he’d done absolutely nothing but his frickin’ job. This was a man who’d had his tongue in her mouth and his fingers up her… well, whatever… and he’d spent the entire time since treating her like she was a distant acquaintance. Her conscience pinged her a bit, reminding her that she’d invented excuses to stay out of sight most of the afternoon in her office. But she reminded her annoying inner voice that they both had tasks that needed to be done. After all, the play’s the thing. The show must go on. And all that crap. But he could’ve at least smiled at her. Or winked. Or grabbed her, tugged her behind the heavy curtains and… and… aw hell. Maude bit down on her disappointment and let a healthy dose of scornedwoman anger take its place. Obviously, she was nothing more than an evening’s diversion. Someone he could get his jollies with and then saunter off, no strings attached. Her gut churned as she reached the footlights, but she kept it all inside, merely standing there, hands on hips, staring up at him. “So why didn’t the bloody thing work?” He glanced down at the rigging in his hands. Ropes led up high into the darkness over the stage and a pair of wings dangled incongruously a couple of feet above the floor, attached to the harness.

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Maude clamped her teeth together. Nobody had a right to look so damned handsome. The main lights were off now, leaving assorted spotlights dimly illuminating the stage. Colin’s black shirt ate up the colors, his hair gleaming oddly, shades of red and blue reflecting back at her. His jeans blended into the shadows, and he dominated the entire place, just by standing there. Or maybe it was her. Furious at herself for allowing desire to overwhelm common sense, she clambered up the small side steps and marched to his side, looking upward as she did so. “Did you check the pulleys?” Colin hissed out a breath. “Of course I bloody did. Twice. Stupid thing worked perfectly too. It wasn’t until Simon put it on and actually set his weight against it that we had problems.” Maude raised an eyebrow. “Then we have a big problem, since Simon is Puck. Puck needs to fly. I doubt that the audience would find a pair of wings flittering about the stage in lieu of one of the main characters to be an improvement on Shakespeare’s original intent.” Colin lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes turning hot. “You think I don’t know that… Maudie?” He drawled out her name like a caress, and Maude involuntarily shivered. She took refuge in her temper. “Well -- fix it.” “I intend to. And perhaps, instead of indulging in sarcastic comments, you could help.” Maude snorted. “Me? I don’t know anything about rigging.” “No, but you’re about the right size.” “For what?” Maude blinked. “Put this on.” Colin held out the ropes and wings to her. “I will not.” “You want to help? You want this to work right? I need to double-check the system again. I can’t do that without someone wearing it.” He shot a doubtful look at her severely tailored shirtdress. “Of course, if it’s too much to ask…” He shook his

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head. “I should’ve known better. You’re the director. Ms. Big Shot. Far be it for a humble stagehand to suggest you get down and dirty with the details.” Maude’s eyes narrowed. Oh she could get down and dirty with him, no question about it. All he had to do was ask. But he seemed to be laboring under the mistaken impression that she was all talk and no action. She’d show him. “What do I do?” She stepped forward and kicked her high-heeled shoes away, grabbing the harness from Colin’s hand. “Uh…” A little part of Maude’s mind grinned. Good. She’d caught him by surprise.

Okay. She’d done the unexpected, and Colin just managed to catch his jaw before it dropped into a very obvious gape. He’d figured she wouldn’t want to get those nicely manicured hands dirty any more, like she had on him, metaphorically speaking. But she’d unhesitatingly shed her shoes and stepped forward with that one damned eyebrow raised. Oh ho. This could be fun. Colin allowed several rather wicked thoughts to chase themselves merrily across his neural pathways. They stopped to party up a storm and reminded him of the condom in his back pocket. They sent a wake up call to his cock, polished off a few more beers and then went happily on their way, leaving Colin with the stirrings of a rather nice hard-on, and some appallingly delightful ideas. He grinned. “I’ll have to strap you into this…” He held up a series of ropes that were designed to pass around the armpits of the “flyer.” “And then all you have to do is put your weight on it for a moment or two.” Maude raised her chin. “Simple. I can do that.” Colin moved behind her and started untangling the harness. He got a whiff of her perfume, and his vision blurred for a second. He brushed across her breast by mistake. “Sorry… this thing is…”

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Words deserted him as he felt the definite shape of a hard nipple beneath her dress. He struggled for a few moments, trying to loop the contraption around her without hurting her or coming in his pants. Sheeeiiit. Who said theater wasn’t entertaining any more? “Maude, this isn’t going to work.” She gave an exasperated sigh and half turned, snagging her dress on the ropes and pulling it away from her cleavage. “Why not?” Oh God help me. Black lace. “Because…” Colin stumbled over his words. “Because it’s catching on your dress. The harness isn’t going to hold. It’s supposed to go under the costume not over it.” Maude raised her chin, stared him straight in the eye, and nodded. “No problem.” She quickly undid buttons and snaps and shrugged out of her dress, tossing it casually away into the shadows. “Is this better?” Better? Better? It wasn’t manly to scream, but for a split second, Colin could have outrivaled a teenage girl at a rock concert. Yes. Oh yes. It was better. It was so much more than better. Colin swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yep. That should do it.” Kill me. I’m a dead man, here anyway. Maude’s bra was indeed black lace. So was her thong. And so, God help him, was the garter belt holding up… sweet Lord above… stockings. Also black lace. He had a lightning fast discussion with his urges as his hands hovered near the white flesh she revealed. “So go ahead. Do it.” Oh Jesus, you have no idea how much I want to. Maude nodded at the harness he was surprised to find himself still holding. “Uh. Okay.”

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With infinite care, he circled her with the ropes, hoping that his jeans would live up to their reputation for being well constructed. If they weren’t, he was gonna blast right out of them any second. Maude was desirable enough and got him hot and bothered just with her presence. Clad in only her underwear and lit by soft spotlights, she was… breathtaking. And taking breaths was something he was having a lot of trouble with right about now. “Did you get it on right?” Honey, there ain’t no getting it on right or wrong. Just get it ON, okay? “I think so.” Which was also a lie, since thinking was a process that was rapidly deserting Colin’s lust-clouded mind. “Well then, let’s see if it works.” Maude’s tone was all business, but he couldn’t help noticing two rather nicely budded nipples making tiny bumps in all that dazzling black lace over her breasts. He could also detect a slight scent… a blend of perfume and woman and heat… perhaps Miss Maude wasn’t quite as calm, cool and collected as she’d like him to believe. And perhaps it was time to find out. “Hold on to the two guide ropes, Maude.” He turned away from her and jumped off the stage to the front row, where he’d stuck the remote control for the flight device. “I’m holding on.” Her voice was a little less assured now that she was alone on the stage, wrapped into a winged harness and spotlighted in all her lingerie. He took a moment or two to appreciate the picture she made, like some kind of wet dream of fairies and underwear models come to life. The wings trembled behind her as she breathed, a glimmer of color in the soft spotlights. Her blonde hair was nicely mussed, the black of her garters stood out in sharp relief against the smooth whiteness of her thighs, and Colin knew this visual image would brand itself into his brain cells and probably do serious damage while it was there.

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He smiled. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” Well, nothing I don’t fully intend to have happen, anyway. She squinted at the front row. “I have confidence in you, Colin. Go for it.” Colin squirmed uncomfortably on the seat, adjusted the torture device that was masquerading as a pair of jeans, and reached for the remote unit. With a silent prayer, he pushed the button.

Chapter 5 For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then Colin saw the main rope go taut behind Maude and her fingers wrapped around the guidelines. With a quiet whirr, the mechanism activated -- and Maude was airborne. Houston, we have lift-off. Palms sweating, Colin watched as she slowly floated from the stage. “You all right?” She glanced over at him with an expression of surprise. “Yeah. Yeah… this is… so cool, Colin.” Cool? He was anything but. He had a death grip on the remote control unit, ready to kill the entire process if it looked like it was going to malfunction. But, to his astonishment, the bloody thing worked. Except for a quick moment of disorientation, Maude was handling it like she flew every day of her life. Her legs had curved into a naturally graceful pose, and her arms, just resting now on the guide ropes, stretched out to either side. A slight movement of her shoulder was enough to point herself in the direction she wanted to go. “Whooeee…” Her crow of delight astounded Colin. Who’d have thought the prim Ms. Henshaw would get into flying around the stage like some lace-clad Peter Pan? She quickly got the hang of steering, and found that by angling her body slightly, she could increase her velocity. She added a little swoop that sent the wings behind her fluttering in the breeze.

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“Watch it, Maude…” Colin tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he cautioned her. “Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud,” she hollered back at Colin, executing a very neat three-point turn at one end of the stage that would have made an F16 pilot blanch. She soared high and let the mechanism swing her out over the edge of the stage. Incoming! Colin ducked automatically in response to the sight of an almost naked winged woman heading toward him. Airborne. And he didn’t need the latest in surface-to-air missiles to shoot her down either. He had one primed and loaded in back of his fly. If he’d thought she looked erotic standing on the stage, well… fuck. It hadn’t been a patch on this. Her face was alight with pleasure as she experienced her free flight adventure, turning and sailing effortlessly back toward the curtain. “Yaaaay… hoooo…” He couldn’t believe the squeals of excitement coming from her mouth, or the huge excited grin she flashed him as she buzzed him once more. “Look out below…” She hooted in mirth as she swung past, letting the momentum take her to the limits of the rope and then back over to the stage. He ducked again, caught his foot on one of the seat legs, and stumbled, dropping the remote. There was a grinding of gears and Maude’s brush with the joys of flight crashed to a halt. Jerked to a standstill, Maude hung there for a moment, and then… slowly… started to rotate. Her center of gravity had shifted somehow, and now, instead of a graceful bird, she looked more like a gyrating stripper with her legs pedaling every which way, and ending up head first toward the stage. Colin hadn’t seen anything quite like it since his first strip show. She flashed him a glimpse of her pussy, sliced by the strip of black lace, as her legs fell apart in an attempt to balance herself.

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He bit his lip and hurried over, trying to ignore the fact that his cock was paying full attention to the scantily dressed woman hanging upside down in front of him. “Colinnnnn…” It was definitely a wail. “I’m here, babe. Don’t sweat it…” I’m doing enough sweating for both of us. He moved behind her and saw where the bolt securing the harness had slipped, allowing it a full three hundred and sixty degree rotation. Hence Maude, presently staring at his feet and presenting him with a blindingly exquisite view of a lot of her more interesting body parts. He struggled, grunted, and shifted things, ducking to avoid her flailing legs. He broke out in a sweat as her thighs grazed his ears, the sight of her pussy sliced neatly by the silk of her panties blinding him as it flashed past his eyes. He wondered if she’d mind him sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her belly, just to hold her steady. A breast narrowly missed his nose and his mouth opened in a purely reflex action one second too late. It was psychological torture, and he would have spilled any secrets he possessed just to have it continue. But it couldn’t. She was whimpering. Colin finally managed to rotate the by-now dizzy Maude back upright. He was more than a little dizzy himself. She was still six inches off the floor. “Whaddya know… it’s all tangled.” “Uh…” Maude’s face was flushed and she was breathing hard. “Is it going to drop me?” “No, babe. You’re messed up in that thing so tight it couldn’t. Hang on…” He rushed to his toolkit and grabbed a pair of clippers. The tension of her weight was pulling the entire contraption taut, and Colin knew he needed to get her weight off the ropes. He could have found a piece of scenery for her to stand on. He knew he could have. It would have been easy. But he didn’t.

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Instead he moved close in front of her and promised penance for what he was about to do. “I’m going to have to cut you out of it, and you’re gonna have to let me take your weight so I can get at the ropes.” He put on his best, helpful-handyman expression. “Can you put your legs around my hips?”

All the blood that had so recently rushed to Maude’s head suddenly made a Uturn and hurried down her body to her crotch, making her dizzy all over again. Colin helped the process along by standing oh-so-close to her and slipping his arms around her. Could she put her legs around his hips? Hell yeah. “I don’t know…” she lied. Colin met her gaze with a heated one of his own as his fingers moved at her back. “Whoops.” She felt something release -- but it wasn’t the harness. It was her bra. “Oh dear. I seem to have cut the wrong thing. I’m sorry, Maudie…” He didn’t look sorry at all, the bastard. He looked damned pleased with himself, especially as the fragile lace fell away from her upper body. He leaned even closer, letting his shirt brush against her nipples. Huh. Two can play at this game. “Ow, Colin… your shirt… it’s rather rough…” Okay. Don’t bat the eyelashes, that would be going way too far. “Sorry, yeah… I didn’t think…” But he didn’t back away -- instead he stripped the thing off him in a lightning quick move and it joined her bra in a heap on the stage. Oh God, he was beautiful. Maude let her eyes rove over the planes of his chest, lit by the colored spotlights and looking very, very tasty indeed. She licked her lips and was surprised at the gasp from Colin. He gulped. “Now, about those legs…” His voice was decidedly harsh, and Maude’s mind grinned at her. This was a helluva lot more fun than flying. Who knew?

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Colin’s hand slid slowly around her buttock and grasped the underside of one thigh, pulling it high and tight around his hips. And he sure took his own sweet time about it. She nearly groaned as he repeated the process with her other leg, clasping her tight to the mammoth bulge that was now distorting the front of his pants. A snip sounded again, and Colin grinned. “Ooops. I think that might have been your thong. I’m gonna owe you a set of undies.” “You owe me a heck of a lot more than that,” moaned Maude. Her bare pussy was smashed against him, and the metal zipper on his fly rasped a large amount of very sensitive and moist flesh. “I do?” “Dammit, Colin, either lose the jeans or get the hell away from me.” Maude was beside herself and barked out the order without a second thought. The adrenaline rush from her “flight of fancy” had turned into a major sexual arousal. She was hot, wet, and ready and had the man of her dreams half naked against her crotch. What the fuck did he need -- a flashing neon sign? A two by four upside the head? “Okay.” Well thank the good Lord. Neither, it seemed, were necessary. He grabbed something from his back pocket. “Here. Hold this…” He looked up at her hands, twined in the ropes and frowned. Without further ado, he stuck a small packet in between her teeth. “Mmmph?” “Just a minute…” He struggled with his pants and finally dropped them to the floor along with his briefs. “There. That’s better.” He grabbed the condom out from between her teeth. “Phtooey.” Maude cleared her lips of the plastic taste. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t have anywhere else to put it.” He had it out of its covering and on himself in no time. “Until now.”

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He slid his hands behind her once again and cupped her naked buttocks, pulling her hard against him and letting her feel every single lovely inch of his cock and his body. Both were delightful, and Maude wanted to purr and rub up and down him for a year or two. “Mmmm.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. She enjoyed it even more when Colin kissed her. There wasn’t room for a single line of dialogue between their bodies, let alone a page of script. He plastered himself against her, taking her weight on his hands and swaying her slightly in the most amazing… delightful… wonderful… if-you-don’tstick-that-thing-in-me-soon-I’m-gonna-die sort of move. His tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, finding hers and playing with it, teasing it as his fingers dug into her buttocks and tugged slightly, opening various places to the air that weren’t used to being opened to cool air. She shuddered at the variety of sensations. “I want you so bad, Maudie…” Colin pulled his lips from hers and panted. “You’ve got me. For Chrissake, do something with me before I die here,” she panted back into his mouth, leaning against him, rubbing her nipples over his chest. She ached for him, all over, and was almost surprised to find her arms still tangled in the rigging. She wanted to hold him close, closer… but was pretty much stuck with letting him call the shots. She gritted her teeth. “Colin…” “I know, babe.” And it seemed he did. Very carefully, and about a millennium too slowly, he positioned Maude right where he wanted her… on the very tip of his cock. She wriggled. “Colin… I swear… I’m gonna kill you…” She tightened her thighs in an effort to get him where she wanted him. He smiled again, although it was a rather strained smile. “I know. And I’m gonna die a happy man.”

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With infinite care he moved their bodies and slid Maude down… down… just as his hips pushed up… up… And he filled her.

“Good lordy, Miss Maudie…” The whisper was wrung from Colin’s throat as he felt her cunt boil its way down over his cock to rest snug against him. Blonde curls tangled with brown pubic hair, and he’d never felt so at home inside a woman in his life. No matter he was standing on a stage, under the spotlights, with his jeans and briefs in a tangle around his ankles. No matter he was fucking a woman strung up in theatrical rigging who was wearing nothing but a garter belt and stockings. None of that mattered. It was just… right. He was afraid to move, afraid to break the spell between them that held them both in thrall. This had nothing to do with the theater, Shakespeare, or the magic of any fantasy. It was real. As real as her slick heat and the slight sound of surprise that had come from deep inside Maude as he’d taken her. He raised his head and looked at her. Blue eyes met his, wonder and desire mixed with surprise. “Colin,” she breathed. “Oh Colin…” He couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Oh yeah, Maude. Oh yeah…” He, Colin Fenton, stage manager, had reduced the loquacious and intellectual director, Ms. Maude Henshaw, to a moaning pile of lust. Fuck. Life was good. It was about to get better. He moved, pulling down and away, only to thrust back up and set up a rhythm that made the harness jangle and spots appear before his eyes. Maude was with him, clasping and releasing him with her thighs, squirming against him as their bodies clashed, and whimpering as they parted. He ground his

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groin into her, pushing his way between her legs until he wondered if they’d crack apart from the violence of his need. Their gasps echoed through the empty hall, along with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. There was no need for a speaker system -- the silence of the theater caught every single sound and sent it around the room, acoustically accomplishing what their ears couldn’t hear. The simple noise of lovers doing what they did best. And Colin knew it was his best. Ever. Maude was hotter than hot, slick and wet, and welcoming him with her own version of crazy desire. Her breasts were squashed against him and when her nipples rubbed against his, he cried out with the sensation. “Maudie…” He was so fucking close… another minute and they could bring the curtain down, since his performance was about to conclude. “Yes, Colin… oh God… Yessssss…” Maude threw her head back and screamed long and loud. The noise stunned him, but not as much as the extraordinarily strong spasms in her cunt that were now squeezing the very life out of his cock. He thrust once more as deeply as he could go… and surrendered. He blew his load, his mind, and all his preconceived notions about sex right out the door of the theater as he exploded inside Maude. Wave after wave of orgasm rocked him, his balls throbbing with the desire to release their cargo, and his cock? Shit. He’d never come like this before. It went on forever, and Colin lost himself totally in the experience. Everything seemed to go dark except for Maude, her heat, her body and her passion. It was all he needed. Drained at last, he felt Maude tremble in his arms. “Oh, Colin…” she whispered. “Oh my God, Colin…” He held her close, feeling his cock soften, exhausted but happy, inside her. “Yeah, honey. Yeah.” She shivered, and Colin regretfully pulled himself free of her body. She swung limply, her thighs wet and glistening, her eyes soft as she smiled at him.

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“I think you’d better cut me down for real, Colin.” He tugged up his pants, wincing as the condom slid around awkwardly. Shit. He’d take care of that in a minute… first things first. Get Maudie’s feet back on the ground. Then take her home and get them off the ground again. “Okay, sweetheart. Take a breath…” He reached for his clippers again, and this time set her free, letting her slide down his body until she finally stood on the stage under her own power. She seemed reluctant to move though, just leaning quietly against his chest. Her breath fanned the soft hairs. “Oh my. You know something?” His hands stroked the creamy skin of her spine. “What, honey?” He felt her lips curve into a smile. “I think I just got ‘Pucked’.”

Chapter 6 Colin was still smiling as he locked the theater doors behind him. Maude had gone ahead with her scripts in her arms, her dress sort of back in place, and her savaged underwear shoved into her bag, while he closed up the theater. She was going to drop the lot off in her car and then join up with him across the street for the party. At least that was the plan. However, Colin had no intentions of allowing a nearly naked Maude into the Fisherman’s Rod. Uh uh. No way in hell. She was coming home with him, even if he had to hogtie her again. Hell, that had been fun. After a hurried dash to the men’s room, he and his briefs were much more comfortable, and he could feel the excitement building deep inside once again at the thought of Maude in his bed, that soft hair spread out over the pillow and those little whimpers of pleasure hiccupping from her throat as she orgasmed. Shit. He couldn’t wait.

Shit. It looked like he was going to have to.

A really dreadfully awfully horrible sight met his eyes as he walked down the

steps toward the street. Harry Stone. All six-foot-whatever of him. Talking to Maude. Colin’s Maude. The Maude Colin had just “Pucked” thoroughly and with great enthusiasm. His Maude. A tire lay against the side of Maude’s car and Harry was brushing his hands against his thighs and smiling down at her. Colin caught fragments of his boss’s words.

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“Don’t mention it, baby. It was the neighborly thing to do…” Harry’s deep and appealing voice rolled like honey through the night. “So sweet… what a darling…” He heard Maude’s light laughter. For a moment, Colin’s brain froze and his gut clenched. The fucking curse. Maude’s car had had a flat, and Harry had changed it, thus rescuing her. Holy fucking crap. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the jokes about his dating history. In fact, recently, he’d been rather glad of the break from the endless come-ons, since most of the women he knew were happily single and wanted to make sure their status stayed that way. But now things had changed. In a really big way. His heart pounded fiercely as he realized that losing Maude would pretty near kill him. He’d only just begun to let himself feel… things… for Maude that he hadn’t felt with any other woman. Shit on the proverbial shingle. He was damned if he was going to lose her. Particularly not to Harry Stone. Who chose that particular moment to grin at Colin. “And here’s the boy himself.” Colin gritted his teeth. He hated being called “boy”, since he was only a year younger than Harry. Being five inches shorter shouldn’t mean someone was a “boy.” That was a term measured in years and experience, not height. Of course, Harry probably had the experience to go along with the years, but still… not in front of Maude. Dear God, please, not my Maude.

Harry leaned against Maude’s car and watched his friend saunter casually down the concrete steps of the theater toward him. He missed neither the taut expression on Colin’s face, nor the possessively hot look he flashed at Maude. Well, now. Isn’t this interesting?

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He and Colin went way back, and there was no one he’d rather have working for him. Stone Construction relied on Colin’s intuitive problem-solving skills, and he was damn near a partner rather than a second-in-command. But that was Colin. Quietly selfeffacing, doing his job effectively, and placidly content. So where was that guy? Certainly not in the one who was putting on a good front, but bristling up around the neck like Betty when she scented a rat. Not in the one who was walking around the car like every step was barefoot on shattered glass. Nor the one who stood at least a foot too close to Maude. Christ, Colin might just as well piss on her and establish ownership. Be done with it. Although he had relaxed a little when he realized Maude’s endearments were being spoken to Betty, who was lolling against her thigh in blissful idiocy while Maude rubbed her ears. Harry’s thoughts moved like lightning and he didn’t need a calculator to put two and two together. These two reeked of sexual satisfaction. And there was a strong possibility Maude wasn’t wearing any underwear, either. Harry’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed the nipples pebbling in the cool air, or the lack of visible panty lines through the fabric of her skirt as it stretched over that rather nice ass of hers. A slow grin curved his lips. This was too good a chance to miss. “So, Colin. How’s it going, pal? Just fixed Maude’s tire here…” “So I see.” Colin sounded a little less than grateful. In fact the words “you bastard” seemed implicit in his response. Harry’s grin widened and he turned to Maude. “Well, my dear. Tradition has it that Colin’s women are eternally grateful to their rescuers. And I’ve rescued you.” He gave her his very best seductive smile, ignoring the daggers that Colin was metaphorically sticking into every bit of his back his eyes could reach. He held out his arm. “I take it you’re off to join the party…” He nodded at the open door to the Fisherman’s Rod. “Come with me, my sweet. It’s time for us to find our destiny together. And I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to every minute of it.”

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What sounded very much like a growl came from Colin’s throat, surprising the hell out of Betty who was about to stick her nose in his crotch. She froze, and then delicately backed away from him. But before either man could speak, Maude took control.

*** Harry had shocked the breath out of her for a couple of moments when he’d popped his head over the hood of her car and smiled at her. He was, as she’d heard, one big handsome hunk of man. If she’d met him a week ago, who knows what might have transpired? But now, sated from Colin’s loving, he was… just another guy. With a dog that apparently regarded her as a long-lost friend, and was eager to catch up on old times. Barely avoiding a cold nose in her very naked crotch, Maude stepped carefully around the excited animal, and made small talk with Harry Stone. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out what was going through Colin’s head as he walked toward her. The “curse”… the rescue… the handsome guy… it was all there. Sure, there were a couple of years of dating missing from the equation, but Maude could see Colin’s mental gears whirring and his lips tightening as he watched Harry extend his arm to Maude with a sensuous grin. She looked at Harry’s sleeve. And looked at Colin’s face. And smiled. “Thanks so much for the tire, Harry. But I’ll have to pass on the rest. Colin and I have plans.” She walked away from Harry Stone, all six-feet-four of him, and closed the distance between her body and that of five-feet-eleven Colin, who was staring at her with what could best be called a “startled” expression on his face. Almost as if someone had just shoved a gerbil up his ass and forgotten to tell him about it. Maude wanted to giggle so bad she nearly wet herself. “Uhhh…” Colin, for once, was speechless. “Uhhh…” Harry was, too.

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Maude rolled her eyes. Men. “C’mon sweetheart.” She slipped her hand into Colin’s. “It’s time we went home.” Harry shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Colin recovered from his stupor, and a broad smile crept over his face. “Probably.” “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Harry sounded shocked. Maude laughed. “I’m just thinking… ‘If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended… that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear’…” “The Bard, huh?” Harry straightened his shirt. “Well, hell. I know when I’m in the way. Looks like you’ve got yourself a keeper this time, Colin, ol’ buddy.” Colin glanced down at Maude with a look that robbed her of speech. The kind of look she’d only read about in romance novels. The one that said “you are my heart… my destiny.” Or possibly “I want to get into your panties again as soon as possible.” Either way, she didn’t care as long as he kept looking at her that way. Oh yeah. She’d found herself a “keeper” too. “Sure do, Harry. Sure do.” Colin’s eyes never wavered from Maude’s face. “She’s a Midsummer Night’s Dream and pretty damn good the rest of the year as well.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Nice plug. I’ve got my tickets already, so you don’t have to sell it. I need a drink.” With a parting wave, he crossed the street, whistling for Betty who’d found an interesting pile of something disgusting next to a nearby dumpster. “What’s he whistling? I swear I recognize that tune…” asked Maude as Colin opened the car door. “Who knows? Betty comes to whatever he whistles.” Colin paused. “Actually, I rather like that in a woman.” He waggled his eyebrows at Maude and clambered in beside her. “D’you think if I whistled, you’d…” Maude grinned. “Maybe. Let’s go find out…”

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And the car sped down the quiet street, leaving skid marks in front of the theater, while the air echoed to Harry’s whistled version of a classic song… “Oh what a beautiful morning…”

Epilogue The Northwood Tribune

Theater Review Column

The reputation of our local Amateur Theatrical Company has been upheld by the current production of everybody’s favorite Shakespearean comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream, now playing at the Northwood Community Theater. With the capable hands of Marshall Wentworth at the helm, ably assisted by his director, Maude Henshaw, the immortal tale of bewitched lovers comes to life with enthusiasm and cleavage, the latter provided by Miss Sally Pidgeon in her show-stopping role as Titania. While the usual assortment of technical hitches and missed cues may have plagued the players, it endeared this performance to an appreciative audience who lost no opportunity to cheer on their friends and family. Especially Titania, who exhibited hitherto unseen “proportions” in her portrayal of the Queen of the Fairies. We understand the next performance will feature costumes of a slightly less fragile nature, after Miss Faversham, our chief librarian, fainted during one “revealing” moment. We are pleased to report Miss Faversham has quite recovered from her experience, after receiving an apology from Miss Pidgeon and a bouquet of roses from the producer himself. The florist was kept busy providing floral tributes, since at the end of the final performance, many blooms were delivered to the actors on stage. Noticeably absent was the director, Miss Henshaw, although it was noted that she mentioned a need to confer with her stage manager, Colin Fenton. We can only assume that their behind-thescenes activities resulted in the excellent performance that gave pleasure to so many.

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Plans are already underway for the Theater’s next production. Pay attention, all you budding thespians -- auditions will be held on the first Tuesday of next month. And if you can sing, so much the better. Here’s a hint… “O-K-L-A…” Deirdre Shipley, Entertainment Editor

Sahara Kelly A tall, statuesque redhead, often mistaken for Julia Roberts, Sahara Kelly travels the world, breaking hearts from Paris to Pago-Pago. Drifting through her jet-set life in her trademark black silk designer wardrobe, Sahara readily confesses a weakness for hazel-eyed men with fast cars, sunsets on deserted beaches, and nicely aged scotch. Her dislike of paparazzi, polyester and politics is legendary. She denies, however, that there is any truth to the rumor of her involvement with a certain well-known movie star, although she recently spent an idyllic month at his Italian villa.

She also writes fiction. The above paragraph was one example.

For the rather boring real facts about Sahara and her writing, drop by her website... www.saharakelly.com

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