Finally, a Work Story

I'm classifying this as a recollection simply because, although it was only a few months ago, it feels like years. This was during my period (not that kind) of intense work-itude, and I promised and promised to tell the story but just never had the impetus. Now, as I'm trying to keep certain things off my mind, I'll recall it for you.

I've mentioned that I like to keep my work life and sex life fairly separate, but that I don't think that a fling with an actor violates that code. It's one of the fringe benefits of being in theatre, actually; many actors are easy, and getting a little something on the side alleviates the boredom and makes up in some small way for the fact that many actors are also egotistical divas without a shred of concern for anyone but themselves. No, actually, that's not fair at all. I get along fine with most actors, and have acted myself in the past. But on occasion one must put up with actors who are tedious in the extreme, and while they give the vast majority of nice actors a bad name, I view fucking actors as being karmic retribution for my annoyance. Plus, actors are fun to fuck, and they get the whole "show romance" thing for the most part, so they don't expect things to go much past a short-term fling. Not that this is always true either. And actors are pretty sometimes.

Anyway, the show I was working on was a beast (well, a series of beasts) but included some very alluring women, all of whom, unfortunately, were completely off the market, which was an oddity. I had a severe lust-crush on one of them, and then found out that she was older than I am and married with children. Oy. Not that it never happens, but she was out of circulation.

So I took to hanging out with one of the younger male actors and ogling the unattainable women. Don't ask me how that happened; I guess I was just in the right place at the right time, and made some comment and he'd heard rumors or maybe just assumed I was a lesbian. So we were having a good time, being mildly sexually-harassing in word but not in deed, not being sexual, just being appreciative of the form. I confess that I appreciated his form a bit too, although he never noticed that, as will be seen.

I didn't go out with the actors though; I was too busy. But during rehearsals and such, I had plenty of time to hang out with him, and we struck up a sort of comradeship in arms, as it were. At a certain point he made a comment about wishing there were available women around, and I said something equally flippant along the lines of, "What am I, chopped liver?" To which he said, "But I'm not your type."

The long and the short of it is that he thought I was a lesbian, hardcore, no eyes for anything but women. When I disabused the poor dear of that notion by putting my hand on his crotch and giving it a playful squeeze, his jaw dropped. I couldn't really do anything else; backstage is dark, but people would have noticed. Still, I whispered in his ear that if he was really as hard up as he seemed like, I could make it all better at a later time.

I was tired, sore, bitchy, and pretty much didn't give a shit any more. I wanted to go home, to sleep, to not ever have to go to work again. But the idea of getting a little loving kept me going that evening, and even though afterward there was no chance of not having to do a bunch of work, he promised to come early the next night.

There's a catwalk running around the stage which is hidden from view in places, and it was to there that I took him the next night, mostly because I had to be there anyway and if anyone wanted us they'd have to climb a ladder to get there. I try never to wear skirts to go up ladders, but that evening I wore one, and once we got up there, making every attempt to keep quiet, my hands were in his pants from the word go, and he was hard as a rock. I let him feel me up under the skirt for a while as we made out, then shooed him away for a moment to pull off my panties and hang them on the wall (yeah, I'm classy like that) and got him on his back on the floor of the catwalk, unzipped his pants, and started sucking his cock through the fly.

It was awkward and messy, like surreptitious work sex should be, but we enjoyed ourselves. After I got him ready orally, I slipped on a condom and then just squatted over him with my skirt hanging down and eased him up into me, then tried hard not to make any noise as he started pulling me down by my hips while thrusting up into me. I have no idea how experienced he is, but it was enjoyable. Eventually the zipper and pants annoyed both of us, so he pulled them down to his knees, his bare ass on the catwalk, and I got back on top of him and we started again.

I was just about to get off (stress, exhaustion, and the position were hampering my usual orgasmic tendencies), and I think he was getting pretty close too, when I heard someone on stage calling my name. I shouted out, "Just a sec," and hopped off him, then motioned for him to stay put, although I saw him scrambling to get himself partially back together. So I went over to the part of the railing where people can see you and looked down, and there was one of my bosses (it's complicated) asking me to do something. I have no idea how disheveled I looked, but I don't think he could see up my skirt and my shirt was still on. Anyway, I'd been looking fairly disheveled every day.

I finished what I had to do and then went back to my actor buddy, who was sitting up looking sheepish until I pulled my shirt over my head and said softly, "I'm still hornier than hell, and if you don't finish up we're both going to be space-cases for the rest of the evening. There I was in my bra standing over him, and I know he could see up my skirt, so he pulled his pants back down, and I had to re-energize him and put the condom back on properly while he slipped his hand up my skirt again and pressed into my pussy, making me even wetter until I couldn't stand it any more and just had to fuck him.

I rode him again; there didn't seem to be any hope of anything else. I came once fairly quickly from the excitement of the risk, I think, more than anything else. Eventually he slowed and wanted me to suck him over the edge, and I obliged. He tasted like candy canes, just a hint, when he came. Or maybe that was just pre-Christmas talking.

We stood up and I helped him dust his ass off a little (that was amusing) and then he finished adjusting himself and climbed down the ladder to get ready for the show. I pulled my shirt back on, as it was fairly cold, and wished he'd played with my tits more. Then I got my panties back on with difficulty over my big honking boots and got ready for work.

I'd never christened the catwalk before. I'd done it in catwalks in other buildings, but never this one. So that was nice. It wasn't great sex, but it was something to remark on.

And after the show that night, he waited around for me and I said, "Fuck it, I need a break," so we found a secluded spot in the building, when most everyone else had gone, and got to it more properly this time. That's the nice thing about being trusted in the building by myself, and knowing all the hiding places. The sex was fairly mundane, with me on my back and him over me, thrusting with his hips into mine. We didn't do much kissing and he didn't do much more than thrust, but it was still satisfactory enough to get me off again, and this time he pulled out without saying anything, pulled off the condom, and sprayed my belly with cum, before apologizing for making a mess.

I had hoped we might make a regular thing of it, but we never found the time after that. We still got to ogle the gals, but something was a bit different after that; he tried to put his hand down the back of my pants in full view of people and I had to stop him. I don't think he wanted to look any more; he wanted the full package.

I wound up not getting any more from him, which was too bad because I could have used the relief. He probably could have too. There was no real awkward goodbye though; the last time I saw him, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said I hoped we'd see each other again soon, and he said similar things. Like I said, actors usually get it. Not always, of course, but if I'm lucky.

So that was pretty much the only nice thing to happen to me at work in three months or so. I know I shouldn't complain. And I'm not really. I just won't list all the not-nice things that happened. Why dwell on the negatives?

And if anyone is working with me and would like to institute a policy of hourly sex-breaks during the course of the day for morale and stress-relief purposes, I am behind that policy 100%.