Joy on Stage Part Ch. 03

At home, I didn't realize it until just before the show ended its run, but things were really falling apart between my roommates and me. Although Chuck kept hinting around that we should repeat our threesome experience—with or without Miller around—he was actually cooler with it than our fellow roommate. Chuck liked me alright, enjoyed fucking me, I could tell, but he didn't let my refusals keep him down, and soon he had a girlfriend who within a year would become his wife, and about two months after the show ended, he moved out. Which was really for the best, except it left me alone with Miller. I'll always have a soft spot for Miller, I'll love him in my own way, but I couldn't have fucked things up more by sleeping with him. He talked with me about his feelings several times while we shared the apartment together, kept trying to convince me that we would be a good couple, even though I was already in a strong relationship by then, and my refusals just seemed to make him angrier. For the most part, he was sweet to me, but he was jealous of Chuck, when really nothing had changed between Chuck and me. Less than a week after Chuck moved out on us, I couldn't take the weirdness between Miller and me, had to move out on my own. It was painful to do that to him, I knew it hurt him, but when we ran into each other a couple of years after that, he was dating someone else and seemed a lot happier with our past than before. We were almost back to normal, but I don't think we were ever that close again. I'll always blame myself for messing that up.

We were running the last week of the play and all of the actors and crew were exhausted, trying to maintain an enthusiasm that wasn't quite there, and basically sick of each other. I've heard veterans of the theater scene describe the same thing with every show. When they get old enough to realize how rare it is to do a great show, they learn to cherish every moment, to find that light every time they're on stage, and to make each line important again, whether they do it five times or five hundred. But when they were young, they too just got to thinking about all the shows they would rather be doing and care very little for the fact that someone in the audience would be seeing the show for the first time. All of us who weren't veterans, which consisted of most of us on stage and several behind the scenes, just wanted the damn show to finish so we could move on. I'm sure all of us looked back on it a little misty-eyed later.

We were performing the final show of our fifth week, which was most notable to me because we only had three more shows left, one that coming Friday and the two on Saturday, and after that Walt promised us a party at his father's house to make all the hard work worth it. I had broken up with Walt the week before and was pretty sure I wouldn't be going, not animosity guiding me so much as just feeling unimportant around him.

I sat in my underwear, my costume I should say, staring at myself in the mirror and knowing I would need a lot more sleep to work the circles out from under my eyes. I applied enough make up to them to fill a pothole, but they were still visible through it up close. Michelle was talking about cucumbers again, but I had tried them before—she mentioned them every weekend like it was some new thing she had found out—and they didn't work for me. I kind of wished she would just shut up. Both Pam and I were sick of hearing about the movie she was flying back to shoot in New York next Monday. We wished her well and all that, but close quarters and practically living with someone for that long really wears the shine off them. I know they were sick of me, too, while I was dating Walt I came in and caught them talking about the two of us. They were saying that Walt was a prick and I was just trying to sleep my way to fame, and maybe those insults weren't too far off. I didn't really think of dating Walt as making me a star, but I was a bit infatuated with his life, more than the man himself. I finished applying my makeup when Pam came back from checking the audience.

"There's a very cute guy out there who wants to talk to you, Chelsea."

"To me? Wow. How crazy is he? On a scale of one to ten?"

Pam smiled and said, "He says he's a friend of yours. His name's Vaughn."

"Oh," I said calmly. "Tell him to fuck off."

I had to amend that, Pam thought cute guys should be treated with more respect, and I didn't want to get into the whole thing of our history, so I asked her to tell him I was in costume and ready for the show, I couldn't talk to anyone. She did that much. Ugh. Vaughn. Why was he here? I tried not to let my mind run wild with possibilities, but it was difficult. I made myself focus on the show as Pam left to deliver my message.

I lay on my back behind the couch, waiting for the dialogue between Papa and Harry to end, waiting for my cue. I was running my fingers over the edges of my panties and thinking about Vaughn, and it suddenly hit me how I was bored with this. I didn't mean the play, though I was bored with it, and that was to be expected—but I wasn't even thinking about the nude scene I would be playing in another thirty minutes, not thinking about the fact I had fucked the lead actor on stage just a few weeks ago, and might have done it every night if I hadn't gotten scared shitless of getting fired. This play had changed me so much I couldn't even see it while it was happening. I wouldn't have told Vaughn to fuck off before this damn play, and I really meant it when I asked Pam to pass it on, but even when Vaughn would give me the cold shoulder in favor of his girlfriend I would let him come crawling back to me and feel bad for him. It was so long ago that I had been worried about standing up there on stage in my underwear, and now I wasn't giving it much thought when I took my clothes off in front of everyone. I mean, it was nerve-wracking, even more so than taking the stage for the first time every night, but it was the same kind of nervousness, that feeling of a small hurdle I had to plow through. I didn't think about how people would judge me or what they would think of my body or my personality.

Hell, I had fucked both of my roommates since they put me on stage in only my birthday suit. I can't believe that was something I ever would have considered before this experience warped my mind. Would I ever go back to the old me? I couldn't guess. I wasn't sure I wanted to be the old me.

My cue. I rose up and gave my devil everything I had. We got big laughs.

I returned to the dark when Michelle came to the stage for the first time. I had a chance to look through the audience—there he was. Vaughn. He had a front row seat. The first and second weekends we sold out, by the third seats were tough to come by an hour before showtime, but during our fourth and fifth weeks we were a lot more accessible. I recognized some of the faces in the audience, people seeing the play a bunch of times, and I don't think it was my imagination that a handful of them liked to watch me whether I was in the scene of not. Maybe Vaughn had shown up for that thrill. I couldn't guess why he was there—well, maybe I could, but I didn't want to. Staring him in the face instead of glaring at my silent telephone made me feel a little more forgiving, even if I didn't want to be forgiving.

I was on fire that night. Sometimes you feel it, sometimes you don't, and I felt it. I enjoyed my seduction scene, probably the first time since I had fucked Walt on stage. I took of my bra, shook my titties, got some laughs, then stripped away my panties, rocking my hips back and forth.

"If a woman isn't mean to cum, why give her a clitoris at all?"

There was a loud female laugh to that, something I hadn't heard before, but I admired it, though the woman's voice cut off as if embarrassed at her volume. It brought a few more laughs. My dialogue was actually getting laughs, even competing with my protruding pussy lips. I turned to face Harry wearing my smile and I did something I hadn't done before, really dragging out my walk back to the couch, my ass swinging back and forth, drinking in the adoration of the audience. It made Walt sound more panicked with his lines, stuttering them, leaving long pauses as he wasn't sure when I would get to him. I fell in front of him, actually made my knees sting, and I gave him the most convincing blow-job yet—well, of course, second most convincing. I climbed up onto his thighs and did something else brand new, lifting my ass high into the air, the same way I had worked so hard to avoid doing while situating myself, and giving the audience their most obscene view of me yet. Oh, was Vaughn in the audience? I hadn't even thought of that.

Walt mistook my playfulness with the audience for flirting with him. As the lights were going down, he slipped a finger into me. It really pissed me off, assuming our past familiarity meant I was his to touch. I waited until no one could see anything and then, in the middle of his loud hopping and squealing, I slapped him. He actually said, "Ow," which got a good laugh. But I got off him and let him finish himself off for once. I was glad I wouldn't have to see him again for a week.

The lights came back up and I went into Act II, nude and full of energy. I got a lot of laughs, which was harder to do during the second act. I think I really did a lot to bring the audience to the edge of their seat, not to sound too full of myself, and it really made the scene between Michelle and Walt more shocking. As much as I started to hate him, I had to admit he was a great actor.

I came out for my curtain call wearing a bright smile, happy to be out of character, which I usually didn't let the audience see. I got a standing ovation. Even if they were applauding my body, I didn't much care, I thought I deserved it. I wasn't wearing my robe, of course—I hadn't worn it one night since making my debut. I didn't consider myself an exhibitionist or a showoff, but I never felt like it was sincere to feign modesty after standing on stage naked for more than an hour.

I went back to the dressing room and received some of the most sincere compliments from everyone. Even Walt knocked on the door, leaned in, and told me I had knocked them dead. I forgave him for molesting me and told him he had done great, too.

"Where's my clothes?" I asked Michelle, but she looked at me as if I was an idiot. Why would she know where my clothes were? She left in a hurry. Ever since she had landed that movie role she was always getting out as soon as she could. I was left alone in the dressing room, thinking about whether or not I wanted to remove my makeup. I didn't want to face any fans tonight. I didn't mind the praise, but there were enough staring perverts mixed in with the people who genuinely liked my work, and I wasn't in the mood for either. When Kristin came through for her final sweep of the dressing room, she asked me why wasn't I dressed. No doubt she thought I was becoming a cocktease as well. "I can't remember where they are. That sounds stupid, I know—"

"You took your costume over to the men's dressing room to use their shower," she reminded me. That's right. Michelle had been in the shower before the show, and I didn't want to wait, so I just went over and used theirs. I hadn't realized I had left my purse and my clothes over there. I had borrowed Pam's makeup because I didn't want to go back and get mine. I asked Kristin to tell Pam I needed a ride, but she said Pam had already left for the night. "You need to hurry up. I'm locking up the theater in about ten minutes."

It was so hard to get everyone out of here that first weekend, even the second we had been supercharged and thrilled with this place, but now we all wanted to get home as soon as possible.

"Is anyone out there?" I asked Kristin, but she said the crew had cleared out and she was just waiting for me and Papa to leave—I could probably get a ride from Papa. "Thanks. I'll do that."

She reminded me to hurry up, her boyfriend was sitting at the curb out front, and I promised I would be gone by the time she came through for a final sweep.

Kristin left and I thinned out the makeup a little with a tissue, though I didn't remove it all. Just enough to reveal my sleep circles. When I heard Kristin pass by the door a second time, I got up and went to the dressing room door. I opened it...

...I ran right into Vaughn. I yelped, shrank right away, then put a hand over my smooth mound. I was out of breath and nervous, the first time I had been nervous naked in front of someone in weeks—but those people weren't Vaughn, and they weren't close enough to touch me.

"Hey—oh!"

"What? What do you want?"

"I...suh... sorry. I was trying... I was trying to catch up with your friend to find out where you were—"

"She's not my friend. Neither are you." I pressed into him with my hands, trying to get him to quit crowding me, though I don't think he was doing it intentionally, just stunned. I hurried past him to the men's dressing room down the hall. Vaughn was behind me, lingering for a second, then he ran to catch up with me. "What, Vaughn?"

"Why don't you have any clothes...? Jesus, what's wrong with you lately?"

"What's wrong with me?" I reached the men's room door and put my back to it as I started to push it open; my instincts were to cover myself up, but I couldn't stand his holier-than-thou tone, so I left my hands on my hips. After everything he had done to me...! I lifted my chin and told him, "There are two words and only two words I want to hear from you if you ever want me to listen to anything you have to say again. Two words. Well... three words, but two if you use a contraction."

I waited for a second, Vaughn didn't speak, so I went into the men's dressing room and let the door close behind me. I flipped on the light switch, Kristin must have turned it off, and I went looking for my purse and clothes. It looked as if someone had put them in one of the lockers, and I was checking the second of six when Vaughn opened the door. We had a welcome bit of distance between us.

"I'm sorry."

I nodded at him, happy he had given me that much. "Thank you. Anything else you want me to know?"

His mouth opened, but he really didn't know what to say. I scowled and shook my head, which prompted him.

"I was a jerk."

"It sounds nice, but I don't want to hear it if you don't mean it—"

"I do," he interrupted, giving me a self-conscious smile. I was still naked, and I hadn't realized it until he looked me up and down, but scrambling to put on my clothes would just seem like I was trying to make him feel more comfortable. That was the last thing I wanted. To his credit, Vaughn sucked up his discomfort and continued his apology. "I came to see the play and... yeah, this whole thing left me feeling very, very weird. I just wanted to surprise you. I bought a ticket off my friend Randall, I told him it was important to me... well, important to you, too... that I come see the play. I kept thinking it was going to be weird for Randall to see you in your underwear, but then... fucking Christ, you're just completely naked and pretending to fuck another guy on the stage..!"

"This apology isn't going well," I said, and I had trouble hiding my smile. I searched through the third locker as he went on.

"I'm sorry. It was really weird for me. I know, I know it must have been weird for you, too... but I couldn't... well, yeah, I couldn't handle it. I went home. I didn't want to look you in the eye. That was stupid. I should have gotten over what I felt and at least talked to you."

I found my clothes in the fourth locker. I took out my underwear and stepped into them. Even that little bit of clothing made me feel more at ease in front of Vaughn.

"I wish I had told you... but I didn't know what to say. Things were going so well and I didn't want to ruin them by telling you about this before I had to. I wasn't even sure I was going to do it. And if I had known about your showing up... but I'm not blaming you for that. I'm blaming you for just shutting me out entirely. Right when I needed you. My life has been so crazy—you know, you could have called me before now. Why did you buy another ticket? Why come see the show again?"

Vaughn shook his head and shrugged. It was rare to catch him looking so clueless, but since I had developed my initial crush on him, I had always found it irresistible. Nothing is sexier to me than a guy who can admit he doesn't know anything.

Sure it sounded stupid to me, he said, "I wanted to... do that night over. I had hoped to talk to you about it before. Apologize—the right way. Without you having to remind me I should. I didn't know if you had it in you to... forgive me. I don't deserve it..."

"Don't be pathetic," I said, rolling my eyes as I put my bra on. "I won't feel sorry for you. The first thing I did when I finished with the show is come out to look for you. It was my first time in a paid role on stage. Doing the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. And I thought I had you in my corner. You don't know how much I—Christ, Vaughn, this... I've had this part of our argument over and over a dozen times in my head. You were a real shit. You never even gave me the chance to chew you out. If you wanted forgiveness, you at least should have given me that much."

I stepped into my jeans and pulled them up. I was starting to feel more like my old self as I talked to him. I remembered all those times I called his phone and he wouldn't answer. I saw him leaving the bookstore we both liked one day and he saw me, I knew he saw me, but he hurried to his car and wouldn't wait for me to park and get to him.

"It's not fair, is it?" He appeared genuinely sorry for a minute, but I didn't trust he wasn't just playing me. "I liked you so much... god, I still like you. I never stopped. But I was... scared. I felt so weird. Randall was sitting right next to me. He saw you naked. I felt like an idiot that night. But that was nothing. I'm the one who acted like an idiot that night. Every night after that. I even went back to Bobbie for a week. I mean..."

My sneer probably said all that I needed to on that.

"Yeah, I know. She was so... familiar. I left her for you. When I got scared of you, I thought I would be better off with her. But she was a bitch—"

"Scared of what?" I asked, almost breathless with my irritation. I slipped my arms into my pink blouse and shrugged my shoulders. "What the fuck were you scared of? My body? Your friends seeing me naked?"

"Yeah. I guess so." He sucked in a nervous breath and told me, "I always felt confident with you. Because you liked me. I could tell you liked me, I just... I kinda knew it. But I saw your body... you were... don't laugh. You were just absolutely beautiful. I had no idea how perfect you were. I lost all my confidence. I thought I was bound to disappoint you. I couldn't—"

I slammed the locker door. That shut him up. "That's bullshit, Vaughn."

"It's not."

"Why can't you just say what you really thought?" I gave him a chance, but he shrugged his shoulders. "You thought I was a slut. You thought people were laughing at me. You thought everyone would laugh at you if you were going out with me. Maybe not laugh, maybe just talk about you. She's a slut. She must love to fuck. She was naked on that stage. Like a porno show."

"Chelsea, that's not..." My stare wouldn't let him out of it. He tilted his head to the side, chewed his lip, then said, "I don't know... maybe there was some of that in my head. I did think you were more experienced. I'm not trying to be insulting. I just thought you were crazy brave to be up there. I couldn't... I couldn't keep up with you. It doesn't mean I'm lying when I say you were beautiful and I had no confidence."