Curtain Call
© 2001 by Alan

We sat naked side by side at the large mirror.  She was applying make-up with dentist like precision--she picked up an eyebrow pencil, took a dab, dropped it, picked up lipstick, a quick run across her tiny, plump lips, dropped it, then eyelash brush.  Drop.  A quick rummage for a cotton ball.  I sat next to her doing same, but slower, watching my hand in the mirror making the precise lines about my eyes and forehead.  I messed up occasionally.  Couldn't take my eyes off her.  I closed my legs on my hardened shaft then open them.  I smiled.

"You have a big one, don't you?" She asked, watching my reflection, as she applied some body makeup about her breasts.

"How can you tell?"

"Five years, dearie, I can tell your hard-on smile from across a room.  Don't get too worked up..."

"Wanna see it?"

She grinned. "If I must..."

I swiveled my stool in her direction, opening my legs.  It flipped up, wagging big and friendly.  She looked at it, pleased.

"That's a nice one, honey." She stood and gave me a kiss.  I wanted more, my tongue flicked at her upper lip.

Music started, and it was humming and throbbing.  Had a good incessant beat.

She applied more body make-up until she was shimmering.  She turned slowly watching herself in the mirror.  Such a petite morsel.  Tiny pert breasts, tucked waist, and bottom, ripe, firm and compact, like two soccer balls pressed together.  Her body excited me beyond reason, and when she applied her wig, and donned her silk gown, I fought the urge to grab my member, and run it up between her legs, and along her bald yoni, as she stood before me.

Her eyes sparkled.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Wonderful.  Just wonderful." I stood, and my cock bumped her thigh.  She smiled, touching it.

"Careful, honey, it might go off..."

"I know." The music was moving, alive.  The beat, pulsating.

She walked to the edge of the curtain, and looked out into the hall.

"Good crowd tonight, honey." She smiled, then a small sadness crossed her face.

"I can't believe they're going to tear this place down."

I nodded.  I had been following the story from mishap to mishap--how the Preservation Committee missed deadlines, lawyers failed to file proper papers, and then the long involved environmental appeal that was just plain wrong.  No environmental concerns in the middle of downtown.  The case was lost from the beginning, and now, this old theater was about to face the wrecking ball.  It was sad.

We met in this theater.

We were just kids, and were nearly deafened by the screams.  I barely remember hearing anything after "And now The Beatles.." I was thirteen, and she was eleven.  We had been dropped off by our parents, and the crowd had been so riotous, that I felt compelled to protect this wisp of a girl from getting trampled.  She immediately took to me, as a friend.  We sat together.  She screamed through the entire show, grabbing my arm, grabbing my head, hands all over me, and I was just trying to hear one song.

When it was all over, we waited out front for our folks.  I remembered our talking.  How mature she was for her age.  I remembered her apology for grabbing me, but also remembered how I didn't mind it that much, either.  She was still standing out front when my folks arrived for me.  Her sad face stayed with me all the way home.

Years later we met again.  The concert hall had been converted to a movie theater.  She took my ticket.  I was there for the movie Woodstock.  We talked for a spell while she tore tickets, and when the movie started she came in, sat next to me, and we made out through the whole movie, except when Hendrix was on...

The place went through even more changes.  In the 80's, it was a shopping Plaza with a series of theme restaurants.  Then another company bought it, redid the entire inside, and held antique auctions on the weekends.  Then they went broke, and the hall was bought by a guy named Phil Cussoo.  Cussoo Enterprises was an adult film and entertainment company, and Cussoo saw the space as a perfect venue for adult-themed entertainment.  He again redid the interior, rebuilt the stage, and re-stuffed the seats.

By the time Cussoo had bought the building, I had been in and out of all sorts of adult entertainment myself.  Drugs, marriage to a bi-curious Baptist, divorce, rehab, prostitution for more drugs, escort services, and a few loops (tiny sex vignettes that were used in coin-operated machines in lieu of full-length movies).

During an audition I saw her again.  She was in another room preparing for a gang-bang video called Seven Sons for One Daughter.  I couldn't believe it.  We exchanged numbers.  Over coffee we talked, and dreamed of getting out of the sex business.  We saw each other clearly for the first time, and fell in love.  One night, I parted her lovely slit, with an anxious cock graciously, and our moisture could've filled a gallon jug.  We needed each other.  We became roommates.  We decided to do a partner thing, so we wouldn't be apart.  One day over TV dinners, I saw the ad for Cussoo Entertainment looking for adult performers.  That was five years ago, and we packed the house.

The stage was bare but for a lamp and a bed.  The bed was on the same marks Ringo's drum set used.  We had a dance that played a stranger who startles a woman in bed masturbating.  I come to her, and we play coming together.  Totally nude, adult entertainment.

She looked out over the crowd, running her fingers along her dress.

"What'll we do, darling?"

"We could go to Portland..."

"Together, though, huh?"

I felt my eyes water.  Not good for makeup. "Yes, cupcake, we'll go together."

She exhaled, and the music cued her entrance.

"See ya, stud..."

I watched from the wings, as she twirled and danced.  Her soupcon of ballet served her well as she rolled back splitting her legs open, gathered herself, and danced to the lamp, turning it off as if retiring for bed.  The spotlight caught her, naked as she stripped and fell onto the bed.  Light turned red.  She pulled her headset from under her pillow, and began to run her finger up and down her slit, making sex noises.  That was my cue.

I walked onto the stage, hard and bouncing.  There was a small gasp in the crowd, as I turned, showing my cock aching and swinging to all.  The music slowed to a thump..thump..thump..as I approached "the masturbating princess" on the bed.  I moved to her and ran my hands along her body.  I grabbed her hand to kiss it.

Surprise.  My lover had supplied me with real juice from inside her.

I looked down, and she looked at me smiling, and gave me quick kiss, as I moved to the bed.  She grabbed my cock, and began to move her hand along the shaft, bringing the head closer to her mouth.  She looked at me, and we both nodded.  This will be the final curtain call..this will be real....

She pulled me to her mouth and swallowed my cock, running her tongue along the shaft and then, flicking the head.  The crowd was silent, except for an occasional rustle of someone wanking beneath a coat.  She sucked me thoroughly, and I played her pussy, drumming on her clit, and running my fingers along her vagina lips.

"Ooh...," she said into the headset.

I moved atop her, and placed my cock at her entrance...

"Fuck me, baby, fuck me!"

I plunged inside her and she wrapped her legs around me.

"Drill me good...lover..drill me, baby...give me hot, hard dick...fuck me blind!!!" (Her lines were supposed to be "Who are you, why are you doing this?"), but we decided to improvise.

The crowd was silent.  The only noise was the thump of the music, the smashing of the bed on the stage, and my darling's cries of orgasmic glory rushing into the headset, and out above the crowd.  She captured my cock...celebrated our love upon it, and then, began her ascension into white hot frenzy as she came like a warehouse fire....

"Oohhgooddfuuckhahnnaaah....!"

The wail roared out above the crowd and rammed the back wall of the hall.  Audience members threw aside their makeshift covers and shot into the air, or fingered themselves into puddy.  My cock was shooting hot and plentiful.  I pulled out for dramatic effect, and shot a long, hot, white stream up over her head.  It caught the spotlight as it flew through the air, and landed in strings on the brass headboard, and slowly dripped down.  I plunged back into her, and rode fitfully to a silent end, as she pulled me to her, and collapsed onto her, onto the bed.

Silence.

Then roaring applause, then audience members, some with their pants still down, stood applauding.  We rose, but were too weak-kneed to get to our feet.  We kissed, smiled at each other, thinking about Portland.

© May 17, 2001, Alan.  All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced, copied or distributed without written permission from the author.

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