Further Developments

I just got home from the theater a little while ago, mind completely befuddled. Work will do that to you, but in this case it wasn't from overwork, although that certainly contributed to it.

I can't say, "You remember Annie?" because I didn't give her a name. She's the short, shy, blonde actress whom I gave a handjob (I'm assuming here that it's still a handjob if I'm doing it to a woman with my hands; I'd never thought about it because usually fingers are only part of the package, rather than the complete event) in the audience a short while ago. Her name is now Annie. It always was, I just forgot to mention it. It's a pity I can't use her real name (civilians always get aliases around here) because her real name suits her to a tee, but Annie is as close as I'm going to get.

Anyway, after the events in the post linked above, I went out of my way to reassure her that I wasn't going to be weird about it and that she could talk about it. So ready for her to talk about it, because I was somewhat confused by the whole thing. She, in turn, was nothing but as nice as normal to me, didn't avoid me, didn't avoid my eyes or look ashamed or nervous. But she never brought it up, and I never got around to bringing it up either. Part of that was that we weren't all that alone most of the time, but there were a few times when I could have but didn't because it was just weirding me out a bit. I'm used to either normal reaction: shame or interest. Acting like it never happened, and not in a denial way, is a new one for me in this situation.

I got some advice from various quarters on the subject, and I tried to follow it, sort of. I tried. But it just didn't work, somehow. I didn't want to freak her out by coming on to her, but for crying out loud, she'd had my fingers inside her. I'm pretty sure I made her cum. And she's acting like it never happened at all.

And there was a certain amount of curiosity going on too: what brought it on? It's not like I advertise my open sexual nature. She's married and I never would have suspected she was remotely interested in anything outside her marriage. What made it happen?

Finally, today, I asked her, point-blank, "What was last time all about?" She didn't know what I was talking about for a minute, then she understood.

"Nothing."

Nothing? Really? Come on now. No, "My husband doesn't give me what I need." No, "I was curious about how it would feel." I mean, those would be adequate explanations had she gotten drunk with me and we wound up making out. But to suddenly start me fingering her in public, without saying anything, I require more of a response than, "Nothing," by way of explanation.

"Nothing? Come on, it wasn't nothing."

"You want to do it again?" At least she was asking this time.

"You want me to finger you in the audience again, or something more intimate?"

"Five minutes, in the downstairs bathroom." And she was off. I swear, it just gets weirder and weirder. If you met her, it would be the last thing you'd expect, it really would.

The downstairs bathrooms are isolated and large enough for more than one person to be in them, plus they're not the bathrooms actors normally use so it was more private. I figured, what the hell, pennies and pounds and all that good crap, so I hitched up my big-girl panties and went down.

Annie was sitting on the sink ledge, looking totally normal except that her pants were missing. She was wearing these cute pink panties which would have looked strange on someone my size, but on her petite little figure they were cute as hell. She laughed and blushed a little bit. "Thank God it's you and not someone else," she said with a little grin.

"So..."

"Can we do it here? It's not really comfortable, but where else is there?"

I could have suggested a few better places, although perhaps with people still in the building this was the most private spot. But I didn't suggest anything, because seeing her sitting there, legs spread, little pink cotton showing between thighs that were way too toned for their own good, had pretty much ensured that I was going to have her, right there, right away, before someone else came in, and even if they did, maybe I'd just keep right on going. Sex drive took over. Explanations could wait.

She shied away when I came closer and tried to kiss her. Eventually she let our lips meet, but it was a total dud, as far as kisses go. Her hand reached for mine and she moved my hand over her pussy, still covered in fabric, and started me rubbing. She allowed me to nuzzle her neck a little, but didn't return the favor. I slipped my hand into her panties much more quickly and stroked her labia, then reached down with both hands and slid her panties down over those gorgeous, jaw-dropping thighs, not muscle-y at all, just fit and toned and strokable. I'm not sure she was expecting to lose the panties completely, but she let them slip down around her ankles and then off.

She laughed when I brought them up to sniff. I laughed too, because I was being a goof, although I admit that I was perfectly happy to smell her on her panties. She must use perfume; she smelled somewhat floral. I'm not against a bit of scent, and this was nice without being overpowering, but I usually prefer natural smells. I put the panties on the sink beside her, and then, without asking because I didn't think I needed to ask, I bent down and kissed her, just above her clit.

She was startled. "What are you doing?" she asked, closing her legs slightly.

"I'm sorry, I thought..."

"Oh, I see." She relaxed. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting that. You like that?"

"Very much." I wasn't going to say otherwise. "Ever since I felt you the first time on my fingers, I wondered how you'd feel on my tongue."

"You're not expecting me to do that to you?" That was the first I'd heard of any possibility of getting something in return.

"Not unless you want to." Reel, reel, nice and slow, keep her on the hook, please let me get at least someone else's fingers inside me out of this evening, please.

"I'll think about it." She grinned a bit sheepishly. "Okay, go ahead." Her legs opened again and presented me with her delightful flowery labia again. She's got skin almost as pale as mine, although she looks like she might tan in the summer. Her pussy is this delicate little thing, much younger-looking than it actually is, and the hair around it is delicate too, although lighter than the hair on her head. Maybe she dyes.

When I finally got around to dipping my tongue into her, fingers spreading her slightly, she was just as hot as I remembered. She tasted slightly of gin, strangely enough; the perfume, I imagine. It wasn't alcoholic, but it was that kind of slightly floral gin taste. Or maybe lilacs. I don't know. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but after I got used to the hints of it, her natural tastes and smells were delicate too, not too strong, but definitely womanly.

After a shockingly short time, even for me (hear my horn?) she had her fingers in my hair, her burning thighs around my ears, and she was sighing softly. I had a finger inside her as I licked her clit, and I felt that same spasm as before. She sucked in her breath, then released it and leaned back against the mirror, her thighs relaxing, head billowing off her pubis like it was a sauna.

"I don't know which I enjoyed more," she said with a sigh, then hopped off the sink and pulled her panties on again, then her pants. "Do you think we have time?"

"Time?"

"For you. I don't think I'm up for kissing you down there, but I should at least give you a hand. Come on, hop up and I'll sit beside you and I'll put my hand down there." The way she talked was slightly strange too. It wasn't like she was afraid to say it, it was just slightly distant.

I shucked my jeans and panties in one movement and sat in the warm spot she'd just left. "You shave?" she asked rhetorically, looking at my cunt.

"Yeah, it's just easier and I like the feeling."

She hopped up beside me and without fanfare reached her hand down between my legs. "I've never tried it," she said as her fingers stroked my slit. She wasn't shy about touching my pussy at all, which I had expected her to be. She started slowly, but pretty soon her nimble little fingers were darting in and out of me. It was a nice feeling, different from some fingering I've had. Novel.

"Your pubic hair's so pretty as it is," I said. I have no problem talking while being fingered, at least until blastoff.

"Thanks." She smiled. "Is yours red when it comes in?"

"A bit lighter than my hair." Her finger slipped in and out again. "You've got a very interesting style."

"Style?" In and out.

"You know, the way you're fingering me." I confess that, even with my experiences, I felt a bit surreal.

"Oh, sorry, should I do something different? I just like to do it this way. I can try..."

"No, no, it's different than I do, but that's good." I felt her fingers slide juicily over the bud of my clit. "So, seriously, before I cum and we have to go, what's up with this?"

"You don't like it?" She stopped.

"No, I do, I just..."

"It's really no big deal." There was that answer again. It sure as hell was a big deal, or at least a bigger deal than would warrant the excuse that it was no big deal. But there's a lesson you learn when you need sex as much as I do: let them finish before you go screwing things up. I let it slide again, because I was approaching a nice orgasm, nothing to write home about but enhanced by the novelty of the feeling of her tiny little fingers and the whole situation.

"You're making me really wet," I said with a bit of a laugh. "But you're so hot. I felt like you were on fire."

"We're going to have to wipe up after this," she said with a little smile, then she ran her fingers over my joy buzzer again and I got so close I could almost taste the orgasm hanging in the air.

When it came, I enjoyed it, although not as much as I might have had she had her face between my legs. Or had we been in slightly more congenial surroundings. But I enjoyed it, and I told her so. She was already hopping up and grabbing paper towels, and she shooed me off the counter with rather more alacrity than I would have liked, wiped up the spot where we'd sat, tossed the towel, and looked set to head out the door.

"So, is this routine?" I asked.

"We'll see," she said, and out the door she went.

And I stood there, still just as perplexed as before, still feeling as surreal as before, still as clueless as before. I spoke with her several times after that, and she never seemed like anything was wrong, but at the same time she didn't mention it and avoided my hints.

I would not mind this at all if I weren't so horny. If I were getting mine regularly, I would view this as a crazy escapade, something to savor as an adventure. One of those weird things that happens in life (I know, you're all saying, "Why can't it happen in mine?") But in my current mental state, I'd really like to go back to her place, or have her come to mine, get naked, and do some lovemaking rather than these random instances of orgasm.

The odd thing is that she never reacted as if she was opposed to the idea of eating me out. She just appeared to believe that it wasn't the right time or place. Or something. And while she didn't want to kiss, she didn't react with disgust, just with a lack of interest. I can't help wondering, with good reason perhaps, if in a different circumstance, she would be completely open to doing all the usual things.

And then there's her husband. I have no idea what's going on with that. And how she came to get the idea that I would be the person to approach.

I seem to wind up getting into situations like this with older actresses. I'm remembering the first few times with Kate, and I felt a little similar, although with Kate it was more that I didn't know what she was up to, not that she was behaving particularly weirdly. Plus, for Kate, how she is is much more in character. Annie doesn't seem like the type at all, and it's all happened in such an odd way. Like I said, if we'd gotten drunk and made out, that would be one thing, but this... it's all different.

I hope to have further installments of this, if for no other reason than that I want to know what's going on, plus I'd like to actually fuck Annie at some point, rather than this strange limbo area we're currently in. Hell, right now I'd just like to see her breasts, see if the top half is as gorgeous as the bottom. Get her to bend over for me, show me what I'm sure is a glorious ass. And she's older than I am, damn her. Anyway, we'll see what happens.