Date: Sun, 12 Jan 2003 20:58:03 EST
From: Louisamay1111@aol.com
Subject: Stagestruck ch1

    I'm 41, I've been a professional actress  for almost 20 years; and I
recently experienced the most intensely erotic adventure, I suppose you'd
call it,  I have ever had. Ever. And that's saying quite a lot, actually,
because I've been around the block a few times.
    And all the names and places have been changed and re-arranged, because I
don't want to get myself or anyone else involved in this. . .thing, in
trouble. Because it would, ultimately, out of the short-sighted,
narrow-minded, hypocritical, squeamish. . .alright, none of that. It is just
SO too bad. . . criminal, really, that something so unbeLIEVably powerful and
good and. . .ohh, what the hell, I had a love affair with an eleven-year-old
girl, and I want to remember it forever. So no specifics. But it really
happened.
So. . .amazing. If I never touch another human being, the memory of my
moments with Julianne Smith, who liked to be called Jules, will provide me
with all the company I'll need.

    She'd been cast late, one of the three little girls who comprised the
Greek chorus-like group downstage during much of my own scenes. It was a new
play in a relatively large midwestern professional theatre, and I won't
reveal the title, either, in case the thing sprouts legs somewhere else and
becomes successful. One never knows in this business.
    I was the lead, playing the main character at her peak; two other
actresses played the same role as a very young, and very old version of the
same woman. At first there were two smaller girls perpetually downstage,
observers, basically. But the director decided he wanted a triumvirate of
preteens, so Julianne Smith was hired. Her mother had worked in the costume
shop the year before, and Julianne had appeared in a few of the theatre's
summer musicals, as well as playing Scout in the last fall's acclaimed
production of "To Kill A Mockingbird".
    She had a fierce energy all her own, as well as the capacity for a joy
that seemed boundless. I had starred in a few plays there in previous years,
and she had seen me in a couple of them. On her first day of rehearsal, I
came into the studio to see, written large on the blackboard, her looping
note, "The Middle Mrs. Todd (my character's name) is My GOD!!" I smiled.
Wacky girl.
    It WAS nice, though, to watch her. So animated, and so pretty; her face
and limber limbs in fairly constant and intriguing motion. It took a while,
and quite a few angry shouts from the director, to get her to stop gabbing
and buckle down. But once she did, she lifted her compatriots' performances
with her own steely concentration. During a break, or while the director
spoke to a tech person, I'd catch her looking at me every so often. I'd
smile, or wave, and she'd do the same.
    Once, during a short break, she sidled up to me, grinned shyly and said,
"You are so. . .Awesome." And blushed.
     Kind of melted a bit of my hard heart, and I told her, "Hey, Scout. .
.you're pretty awesome yourself."
     To which she blushed even more, grinned hugely, and covered her face
with her hands. A Muffled, "Aww, Jeez. . .thanks." And peeked at me. I aimed
an index finger at her freckled nose, and touched it. She giggled. Break
over.

    During a good part of my time onstage, even when I wasn't speaking, the
Little Three, as we called them, sat at the foot of the stage, looking up at
me (or whomever was speaking--usually me). They were all dressed in a kind of
toga-like nightgown, and for the most part, sat there quite ladylike,
watching. Except for Miss Smith, who, often, would forget herself, and sit,
rapt, her legs apart, panties quite visible. In her attention, she seemed
completely unaware of her posture. Indeed, there seemed no scheme to it;
she'd flash me at any time, sometimes so openly that it would seem she'd have
to be aware.
    But I did discover how unaware she really was.
    For once we'd opened, and developed our various routine, one of them was
Julianne's ritual of knocking on my dressing room door, and, when I opened
it, leaping into my arms, hugging me, kissing both cheeks, and fervently
wishing me a 'good show'. Then, with my tacit permission, she'd sit in my
extra chair and watch me finish my makeup and costuming.
    And this, I think, was where I first discovered the odd, slightly illicit
thrill of dressing, and undressing, before this girl, while we talked about
everything under the sun.
    And one day, for no other reason I think than that it was a beautiful
day, I was feeling a bit randy. And when Jules hugged me, I felt her legs
press against me more than usual (she was always toga-ed by then), and
smelled her breath by my cheek. And when she looked in my eyes and told me to
"Have a Good Show", I saw how amazingly golden and clear and really gorgeous
those big eyes were. I looked longer than usual before responding with my
ritual, "And you too, Jules," and her mouth parted slightly, and she reddened
slightly. Then I responded, and she breathed, and jumped down to her chair.
    Maybe, too, my extra lewdness came out of the fact that I'd bought a new
pair of sexy thong underwear, and actually (child-flasher!) was looking
FORward to undressing that evening before the eagle eyes of Miss J.Smith.
Perhaps.
    Either way, as she began telling me all about her new big plan (she had
about 3 a week) to form her own internet theatre company, I listened, and
began undressing. First, my shirt, which revealed my new satin bra; then I
turned, as usual, and began taking down my pants. I took longer than usual,
and as my largish but quite presentable butt cheeks came into view, I heard
Jules' monologue slow, stammer, and ultimately stop. That happened when I
bent to remove the pants, and KNEW I'd shown her a glimpse of my bare puss.
The thong was so tiny, it was floss between my cheeks, and barely became a
piece of substantial material until it reached my pubes on the other side.
    So when I stood bent over, taking my sweet time examining my feet, I
heard breathing, swallows, then a soft, small voice: "You. . .you got new
underpants, huh?"
    I actually stayed where I was and just peeked at her from around my leg.
"Mm-hmm. . .sale at Victoria's Secret." A slight wiggle. "You like 'em?"
    Upside down to me, she nodded. "They're . .really. . .nice."
    "Thank you, honey." I massaged my arch. "Yours are pretty nice, too."
    A Pause. "Huh?"
    "Your underpants. Yellow with purple hearts?" I stood, turned.
    Her mouth hung open, eyes wide. "How. . .how'd you know that?"
    I smiled, tilted my head. :I see all, from where I am onstage." I touched
her nose. "And you don't!"
    She rolled her eyes and blushed from her frilled neck to her
golden-banged hairline. "OhmyGOSH!"
    I reached for my costume. "It doesn't matter, no one else can see."
    "But YOU can!" she wailed, dramatically clutching her palms to her face.
    I turned, thought. "Umm. . .yes, I can." I smiled again and started
putting on the robe. "It's actually nice sometimes, see a little color up
there. All this GRAY. . ."
    The PA box intoned. "Five minutes pleae. . .five minutes to places, five
minutes."
    "Ohmygosh, I have to go," and Julianne scrambled to the door. She turned
to me sheepishly. "Sorry."
    "Oh stop, I told you, it's FINE. I just noticed. You noticed Mine."
    She thought about that one. "OK. See ya. Oh, Mrs. Todd?" She usually
called me by my character name.
    I turned to her. "Hmm?" And she'd flipped up her toga, revealing those
same yellow/purple panties. She wiggled her little bottom, then opened the
door and ran out, laughing. I shook my head, feeling a small glowing under my
thong.

    A few days later, she got me. Since our conversation, Juliannne had
become, apparently more aware of her exposure, and I rarely saw even a
glimpse of any underthings. I realized I missed it, and chastised myself for
telling her.
    But that Saturday night, with a full house, she got me. She was enough of
a pro to know not to distract me while I spoke, but when the time came that I
stood onstage while the action occurred to one side, I noticed out of the
corner of my eye a splash of unfamiliar color. I turned slightly, and saw
little Julianne, with a slight knowing smile on her face, sitting
cross-legged, her toga opened below to reveal panties a vivid pink. I caught
her eye and she grinned. I smiled slightly, and felt my innards warm as she
slowly, so slowly scooped her toga upwards to more fully unveil the obviously
new neon pink panties. It was as if a delectable piece of pink candy had
appeared among the gray set pieces. And when the light hit me, I leapt into
the part again, renewed.

    A light knock on my door at intermission. "Come!"
    Her elfin head poked through the door.
    I turned. "Wow. . .you sure got me."
    She smiled. "Did I?"
    "You know you did."
    She blushed, seemed to decide something. "Umm. . .do you have time for me
to show you something?"
    I put down my water bottle. "What?"
    She looked down at her sandals. "It's a surprise." She looked back up at
me, her big, hazel eyes full of mischief, and. . .what? Excitement? Fear?
    "Sure."
    A gesture of haste. "C'mere." And I stood and followed her.
    She walked quickly down the hallway, then up a flight of back stairs. It
was darker here, and she climbed one more flight before stopping me at the
landing. "Wait. Close your eyes." I did so, amused, intrigued. New panties? A
home-made fan artwork?
    I heard her climb the short set of steps above me, then a rustling.
"Okay. Open."
    I opened my eyes in the half-dark, and saw her sitting on the top step
above me. Her legs were open, and her panties, I thought, were different,
strangely patterned. I drew closer, and with a melting shock realized that it
wasn't her panties. She wasn't wearing any.
    "Oh, Jules. . ." She sat there, her lower lip slightly trembling, a small
half-smile on her cute face. And what I'd thought was a pattern was actually
her bare, hairless little slit, with a wonderfully pendulous little set of
labia protruding from her slit like petals.
    I drew even closer, to the step right below her. "It's so dark, it's
kinda hard to see. . ." Whereupon she opened her slim legs even further, and
drew her toga-gown up above her waist. She half-whispered, "I just. . .I
wanted to show you. . .to give you this. . ." Her smile was weakening, her
resolve tremulous.
    "Oh, Jules, honey. . ." I looked up into her shining eyes. "You are so
beautiful, my darling." And she took a deep, deep breath, and smiled. I held
my arms out to her and she stood and embraced me. Her legs wrapped around my
waist. She buried her face in my neck.
    "Can I touch you, sweetie?" I whispered. She nodded in my neck, and I ran
my hand underneath her gown, feeling thewarmtht of her smooth young bottom
against my hand. My long fingers glided down her shallow crack, the tips
kissing her surprisingly hot little anus. The fingers trailed lower, and she
shifted against me, her legs parting around me to get a better purchase, and
to open herself for me. A soft sigh from her, as I touched her damp little
slit, the so soft petals of those fantastic little pussy lips. They seemed to
move slightly, as a snail against my sensitive fingertips.
    I leaned and kissed her golden, close-cropped hair, as I sank a finger
gently into her seeping slit. A breathy mewing from her, and I felt her kiss
my neck. Another finger touched the tiny, pearly nub at the apex of her slick
little pocket, and her sigh told me the little clit was hungry for me, so I
circled, and circled, and squeezed the lips, and drew my fingers in and out
and through the quivering slit.
    And she was now working her hips around me, her fresh little bottom
squeezing and opening, her lithe thighs rippling against my sides, as she
felt the urgent newness of orgasm rise inside her. Her mewing became panting,
became a kind of savage moaning, soft, whispering shakily in my ear. I leaned
down further and brushed my lips against her her temple, and she brought her
flushed face up to mine, and we kissed. And kissed, and I drove my tongue
inside her sighing mouth, as she really started coming on my rapidly moving
fingers. Her huffs and sighings echoed, rustling, through the stairwell, as
she held me tightly, tightly, and had her first orgasm with me fingerfucking
her in my arms.
    And all this took short, heartwinded minutes, and we kissed, and
whispered, and knew we must be still as separate beings in our life, and knew
as well we'd find the moments, somehow, to be ours.