Costume Drama Ch. 01-02

Thoughts - and very much more of them - that remained with me when once again I found myself lying beside a totally disinterested husband.

*****

The second rehearsal went even better than the first had and then it was time for the full-blown dress rehearsal, which, as dress rehearsals usually are, proved to be an absolute shambles; costumes split or were found to have lost buttons, wigs toppled sideways, the electronics controlling the sound and lighting developed faults, people either missed their entrance cues or suddenly forgot their lines, and Charles spent most of an extraordinarily long evening having a series of almost violent hissy-fits.

The only high point of the evening - at least for me it was - was the look on Greg's face when he first saw me dressed in costume. To say he was 'goggle-eyed and gob-smacked' would not be an over statement! He stared, both long and positively wide-eyed, that was until Charles shouted that he too had now missed yet another cue.

But at the very first opportunity he had, he whispered - 'Margie, you look absolutely stunning! At first I honestly didn't recognise you - that gown does things for you that should perhaps be made illegal!' he added as a way of lightening his clearly underlying emotional - and perhaps physical - reactions to just the way I looked.

And although we were both then caught up in the chaos of the continuing saga of that wretched dress rehearsal I knew he continued taking whatever opportunities presented themselves to yet again stare both long and hard at me. And I admit that although I did my level best not to show it, I felt myself reacting to the fiery intensity that perhaps I alone could see in his eyes.

I've heard many famous performers admit to having a generally low sense of self-esteem, and that it's only the combination of the anonymity of the stage, and having a character's persona to slip into, that allows their underlying abilities to fully blossom - and whilst I don't think I'm lacking in self-esteem, I fully understand the concept of slipping into the character I'm asked to play.

From the moment I put on the gown and finished my make-up I was the character - I was a self-confidant coquette, I was a decidedly sexually beguiling woman, I was one who knew precisely which man she wanted, and also knew exactly what she had to do to get him...

So from the moment I walked on stage I moved with a sensuality that I never would have in real life; not just simply standing when I could turn it into a pose, using my eyes and the fan I carried to maximum effect, carefully choosing the inflexion I placed on some words, and with others dropping to little more than an almost indistinct and throaty whisper. In short being the epitome of what most men think of when they imagine a vamp, a seducer. And no doubt accentuating those mannerisms even more when it was just Greg and I on stage - which, if his darkening expression was anything to go by, certainly appeared to be getting through to him.

And when it came time for us to embrace and exchange that passionate kiss, there was no mistaking the level of fervour that had built up in him; his hands held me far more tightly than previously, his kiss was more insistent, and I even felt his tongue slipping, maybe just a little tentatively, inside my mouth.

Far from being disconcerted by that, of course I welcomed it, and as well as pressing myself even more tightly against him, even used the teasingly twirling tip of mine to try to let him know that.

Then although our kiss went on decidedly longer than previously, we of course had to reassume control of ourselves and do our best to get through the rest of that interminable rehearsal - and by the time we finally made our way out to the car, we were both verging on mental exhaustion. Even so, as he slid into the car beside me he immediately turned and said. 'I do hope that what happened on stage didn't offend you Margie.'

Naturally I knew precisely what he meant - or at least I thought I did, so in case he wasn't actually referring to the heat I'd felt in his kiss, I answered in the most ingenuous tone of voice. 'Offend me? When? You mean the way you kept staring at me?'

He looked puzzled - that is until he saw the slight grin I gave him, then replied. 'So do I take it that the kiss I gave you didn't disturb you in any way?'

'Well I wouldn't put it as strongly as that Greg - there was certainly some 'disturbance' - to you use your word - but only very pleasant ones, thank you.'

He smiled knowingly - 'I can't tell how good it is to hear you say that - maybe that's another area of our performance we should practice a little more then.' - he added cautiously as he began to drive us out of the car-park.

'You could be right about that.' Was all I said, before settling back to see how things would resolve themselves.

He drove in silence for that trip, maybe considering the possible implications of my brief response - at least I hoped that was what he thought about. By then the thought of him kissing - and maybe doing several other things to me - had become even more appealing, if not positively exciting. I found the thought of those lips kissing me, those hands fondling me - and, I still blush to admit to, thoughts of what other things he - we - might get up to - had become almost overwhelming.

So when he finally pulled up, then slid one arm around as he turned towards me, I reacted and responded instantly - our mouths meeting almost hungrily, our lips bruising, our tongues probing, and our kiss continuing breathlessly.

Although the arm around my shoulders held me firmly, his other hand was delightfully gentle; his fingers stroking my hair, my face, my neck - sending tingling shivers of pleasure right through me. But as the kiss lengthened, and our sense of passion grew, it slid downwards, down to cup my by then almost achingly waiting breast - cupping it, gently squeezing and fondling it until I knew both my nipples had become swollen buds. I longed to be able to feel those fingers caressing me without the dulling effects of my clothing - and could feel there were was another, much moister, area of me that also wanted at least that.

But rationality prevailed, and when his hand dropped lower still, to start slip itself up under my skirt, I broke free from both his spell - and his arm, and although it was the very last thing I really wanted to say, I somehow managed to gasp. 'No Greg - at least not now, not here!'

He too was sensible, and knew exactly what I meant. 'Of course Margie - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have!'

'No, no, of course you should - I wanted you to. In fact if you hadn't kissed me I might very well have taken the initiative.' I answered as I made a bit of a production of apparently attempting to re-smooth my hair.

'So does that mean you wouldn't completely rebuff me if I tried again, I mean at a more suitable time and place?'

I leaned forward and kissed him again, kissed him hard and enthusiastically - 'Does that answer your question?' - I asked as I turned and let myself out of the car.

To be continued ...