It's a small college, 1200 students. Most of us recognize just about everyone else and probably know roughly half. In my opinion, Charlene Borden is the sexiest girl on campus. Nice looking, friendly, big smiles and sparkly eyes, long dark hair with lots of curl in it, and the most amazing body possible. Nature couldn't make a more desirable body. Great legs with more shape than seems possible, solid and curvy. Firm, tight ass that sits high and moves like magic. Small waist. Bodacious boobs. Not the world's largest double D's but sublimely shaped full C's, sitting all out front so they enter the room a split second before the rest of her. Playboy would love her as a model.
About half of us live on campus in dorms. Charlene is one of the commuters. So she isn't around in the evenings or weekends to try and date. I've sat with her in our Commons having a Coke and I'd love to try and get closer to her but it seems impossible. She has a boyfriend near her home. At least that's what I've heard. However, we're both in the Drama Club and we've just both been cast in one of the club's three plays per year. So I'll finally get to know her better.
I play her father so we're in a lot of scenes together. The father is one of the leads. The other lead is a woman that, in the play, is an old girl friend of his from years before that's just come back to town. So the daughter is a supporting role but a decent one with fairly much stage time.
In rehearsals, there's a scene where the father and daughter sit next to one another on a small sofa. He puts his arm around her and consoles her about something. We're sitting almost at a right angle to the audience; in this case that's the teacher who is the director and whoever else in the cast or club that's watching rehearsals. Not quite a right angle, but Charlene is upstage from me. I'm to her right and when I put my left arm around her, my hand reaches the side of her left breast. I have just an evil enough mind and enough nerve to realize that no one in the audience can see what that hand is doing. Their view is blocked by our bodies. And if she reacts, everyone will notice it, right in the middle of a scene. So I caress her breast and just about get my whole hand on it, holding it. At the same time, I deliver my lines.
It probably tells something about me psychologically that I'd do this. In high school I was in a play and the prettiest girl in the class was cast as my wife. In rehearsals (and in the final performances) I gave her great, sexy kisses to the point we started dating. But then I couldn't follow through when we weren't on stage and she eventually dropped me. What does that say about me, that I'll risk things when I'm in a role that I can't do in person?
"You're a dirty old man, Daddy," I hear in a whisper from Charlene, said without her moving her lips. No one else has any idea that she's said anything. Still reciting my lines, I move my hand lower, to her side. Another quiet whisper. "I didn't say stop." I move my hand back up and start massaging her breast slightly, at least as much as I can. Then we both have to move. She turns towards me and says her lines and then we both get up and go on with the scene.
It's interesting. I've just played with her boob in front of an audience and got away with it. We're both going on as if nothing happened. But of course something has. And this can't be the end of it.
In front of the director and other cast members we go on with rehearsals for at least another hour. Charlene's staying late and will drive home after the rehearsal is over. And will do that often for several weeks until we finally stage the finished production. Several times I notice her looking at me in sort of a questioning way. If I catch her looking and she knows it she gives me a funny sort of grin. The kind of grin you give each other when you know you're doing something you shouldn't. But when the rehearsal ends and we're all picking our things up, I look around and she's gone.
The next day, midmorning, I head into Commons after class to get a soft drink. Charlene is there. When she sees me she smiles and moves her head a little, gesturing to me, so I go over and sit with her. We're going to have another rehearsal that late afternoon again and the next day and the next, etc. So I would have seen her later anyway.
"I've been trying to figure out," she says to me, "whether you were just being cute or meant something. I mean, you've never seemed to show an interest before."
"I meant something," I reply. "You're the most desirable girl I've ever seen but you've always been sort of unapproachable."
She looks at me quietly for a moment. I'm not an Adonis. I'm okay physically, just a quarter inch shy of six feet and I'm on the wrestling team so I'm in good shape. Actually we don't have much of a wrestling team. It happens that I had some minimal training once upon a time and managed to defeat the only other two guys in my weight class that showed up, so I was on the team. But I am in good physical shape. I'm blond. Or was blond, I'm getting darker. Crew cut really short for wrestling, blue eyes and at least even featured. Not handsome but not ugly either.
"Desirable?" she finally asks. "That's h ow you think of me?"
I'm probably in trouble. I've never been great with women. I've had my successes but even then I think maybe they were more successes for the girls than for me, I was just the one they chose to satisfy their needs. So what do I say? "Yes, " I finally say. "You have the greatest body possible, Charlene. Every time I see you I drool, I think I could just eat you up."
She just looks at me again. Straight. Not angry, sort of quizzical maybe. "You'd like to eat me." she says, more as a statement than a question. Then she gives me a big smile, starts pulling her books together and gets up to leave. "I'll see you at rehearsals," she says as she walks off. I lick my lips. I'm drooling.
Late that afternoon we're both at rehearsals. But we never do the same scene again. She looks at me a lot when she's off to the side and not involved. For some reason, I can keep doing a scene even when I'm thinking of something else. Like saying my lines while playing with her breast the day before. So I also look at her. She smiles at me. Grins really. And she has an odd look in her eyes. They're sort of larger or brighter or something when she looks at me. I'm reminded of kids anticipating their Christmas or birthday presents. The rehearsal finally ends and Mrs. Carlson, our teacher and director, gives us her comments and we start to disperse. Charlene grabs me.
"Do you have any books or anything? Get them and come with me." All I had was my script, so I followed her back stage. She opens a door in the wall and goes through it, I follow. It's absolutely black. No light at all.