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Her cheeks colored slightly at his praise, hearing the earnestness in his voice, seeing the way his eyes were riveted between her thighs. She truly was beautiful, her folds parted, the edges tinged reddish pink and glistening in the overhead sun, a small trickle dripping to the chaise as he openly admired her, devouring her with his gaze. ‘Now… touch yourself, Megan.’ He dared, relieved at her nod.She shifted on the make shift bed, getting comfortable before reaching between her thighs and slowly parting her lips with her fingers, stroking through the cleft between them. Her fingers disappeared up to the first joint of her knuckles, accompanied my a soft moan as she lay back, her other hand stroking over her taut tummy. Her eyes were closed, he noted, not that it mattered. She knew he was watching, that he was a prisoner to her performance. He unzipped his pants, freeing his cock, and resumed stroking, fighting the urge to go faster, wanting to make it last as long as possible. In. But I’m pretty sure that she was just as aware as I was that, on the hand that had just been inside her panties, the fingertips were covered with sticky moisture. There was no rehearsal the next night, so when I saw Tammy again it had been nearly forty-eight hours—a long time to struggle with an old bad habit. And I knew, the moment I saw her—saw first her terrified gaze and then how quickly she turned away from me—that it had been a losing battle. And when we reached the point in the rehearsal when previously I had taken her out into the hall, as she saw me approaching she cowered against the door, one hand out-stretched before her as if to fend me off, whispering, “Please don’t…Please don’t…” I stopped very close to her and said, “Wait for me—right here—after rehearsal.” Then I turned away and waited for my next cue without saying anything further. Tammy and I only had one small bit of business together during the play itself: we sat together at one of several small tables in a.
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