Backstage Pass: A Risky Romp
What happens behind closed doors?
She easily found me, in my aisle seat. I felt her hand on my shoulder and turned, looking up at her. Melissa was absolutely stunning in her low-cut, black blouse and flowing chiffon skirt, covered with silver stars and bronze moons.
“Wow you look amazing, honey!” My eyes traced their way up from her high heels, up her long legs, pausing on her chest, and landing on her deep blue eyes.
She batted her long lashes, “Thank you, handsome. You’re looking pretty delicious yourself.”
We’d been apart all week as Melissa prepared her new directorial venture for its opening night. The distance and time between us had created palpable yearning. “We might need to sneak out of the after-party early if you’re going to show up looking this good,” I joked.
“I’d be surprised if you made it that long,” she rolled her eyes at me facetiously, teasing.
“True, I’ve been missing you all week. Melissa…?”
“Yeah?” She locked eyes with me. Melissa felt a tingling between her legs.
“I’m tempted to just sneak backstage during intermission, lock you in a dressing room, and bend you over in that sexy skirt,” I said with purely bad intentions.
