Forbidden Love by Elizabeth Nelson

parts of him, which had become just
as firm as her breasts had, and then slid the other hand over and
felt his husky, strong manhood straining against the front of his
boxers.
     
    “You gonna do something about it this time,
Chickie?” he said smoothly. “Because you’ve left me high and dry a
couple of times now.”
     
    Trisha was getting used to Rusty’s humor. She
didn’t fall for it. “Fuck you,” she said.
     
    “Fuck me?”
     
    “Yeah.”
     
    “I want you to, baby. Go ahead.”
     
    In another moment, Trisha was out of her
jeans and straddling Rusty on the varnished stage. Only two layers
of thin cotton separated them. Trisha smattered his broad, sculpted
chest with wet kisses as he massaged her shoulders. She liked the
way her breasts felt, skimming his skin as she moved down, down,
down. She stopped over the open fly of his boxers with her mouth,
touched her lips down, and breathed a current of hot air. He
grunted in pleasure, rubbing her head. She went lower and blew
again. She let her lips hover there for a moment or two.
     
    “Come on, baby,” Rusty said. His tone was
impatient. “Let’s do this.”
     
    Trisha folded down his boxers and shimmied
them from his legs. She let her hands feel for him in the darkness,
and found herself dizzy with the prospect of his being inside her.
How would this even work? She smiled to herself.
     
    “Let me assist you, Hot Pink.” Rusty slipped
his fingers into her panties. He burrowed one of them into her
tauntingly.
     
    Before she knew it, nearly every inch of
Trisha’s body, from head to toe, was in contact with his. She was
safely cloaked in the black unconsciousness of the theatre…the
sensation made her think of what the beginning of time must have
felt like. When he entered her, she could sense her whole self
expanding. Involuntarily, she released a series of squeals as they
pressed closer and closer. They took their time at first. His hands
explored her, fumbling and scratching as though they’d never
touched a woman before. Trisha’s miniature waves of delight began
cresting higher, higher, and faster. She sat up, and the pressure
and bliss intensified. She knew that he was close when he squeezed
her hips and rocked her more forcefully. She worked until she knew
the final break was near and she halted her movement and bore down
and waited for it to come. Finally, gloriously, the fiery cascades
of climax spilled over, making her whimper, and at the same moment,
Rusty arched and let out a groan.
     
    She stayed on top of him for a couple of
minutes, tracing her fingers over his abdomen as he breathed
heavily, enjoying the faint ripples of sweetness that lingered
between her legs.
     
    “Thank you, God,” he said.
     
     
    “God didn’t do anything,” Trisha
protested.
     
    Rusty closed his hand over hers. “Okay. Thank
you, Trish, for having God-like powers.”
     
    She lay down on his chest, her head under his
chin. She started to think about how difficult being in Rusty’s
class was going to be, concentrating and listening and pretending
that she didn’t know him at all. She started to think about how,
maybe, sometime in the future, she and Rusty could maybe go on some
auditions with one another. They would share this chemistry that
would blow everyone’s mind. And last, she started thinking about
how at some point soon, acting students would have their feet,
maybe even their bare feet depending on the exercise, right on the
spot where Rusty’s ass had been. She grinned, and inhaled his
smoky, woodsy scent.
     
    “I think there’s a four-thirty class down
here,” he said, and lifted his wrist to click the light on his
watch, and tapped Trisha so that she’d sit back up. “Shit. It’s
twenty past.”
     
    They patted around, trying to find their
clothes. Shaking, Trisha stepped into her jeans, foregoing the
underwear, and yanked her shirt over her head. She stuffed her
panties and bra into her bag, which had flopped over and dumped