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Masha Ch. 4

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Babes

Lindsay and I drank half a bottle of merlot while Masha and Jane futzed around, making things just so. Fifteen minutes later, the fire was blazing, candles were lighting the room, and my lily stood on the center of the coffee table.

We all sat and sipped our wine. I kicked off my shoes and sighed.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight,” I said.

Everyone laughed.

“What?” I said. “It is.”

“You never talk about the weather,” Lindsay said.

“Well, it is. It’s starting. Look.” I pointed out the window. We all looked.

I wanted to cuddle with Masha, but didn’t want Jane and Lindsay to feel like third wheels. I fidgeted with my wine glass.

“Hey,” I said to her, “how did your meeting with Josh go?”

“How did you know we were meeting? Spying on me already?” she teased.

“No,” I told her. “I just figured. Since rehearsal was canceled.”

She told us it had gone well. Robin had been there, so she hadn’t been afraid he would jump her. He had admitted his feelings for her, and vowed to maintain a professional dignity in the future.

“See,” I said. “Told ya he liked you.”

She nodded.

“You’re very perceptive, you know,” she told me.

“That’s right,” I said.

Jane and Lindsay had started playing Scrabble. Feeling drunk and bold, I announced that I was going to bed, and that I would happily accept visitors. I went upstairs and let myself into Masha’s bedroom. I shut the door behind me and began to strip. If no one was coming to visit me, I could get myself off, I decided stubbornly. I was peeling off my stockings when Masha came in.

“So, which do you want?” she said. “Me? Or all of us?”

“Surprise me?” I said.

“Okay,” she smiled. “Can I just hold you?”

“Wow. That is a surprise.”

“I missed you today,” she said, pouting cutely.

I finished undressing and got a t-shirt from her dresser. After she undressed, we crawled under the covers together. I rolled away from her, and she pressed herself into me from behind, sliding her hand along my stomach. I was getting turned on, despite the t-shirt. I tried to hide it. If she wanted to hold me, I wanted to let her without getting all wet and needy.

We were both still for several minutes. I tried to wait it out. Surely, I could let her go one night without sex. Eventually she’d fall asleep, and then I’d have no choice. Perhaps I would go to Jane’s room, I thought dirtily, getting even hotter.

I could smell Masha: some kind of sandal woody fragrance, the wine on her breath, the peppermint soap she used. I tried not to notice the pressure of her fingers on my stomach. I was starting to sweat. Finally, I felt her shift.

“Kelsey, I don’t think I can do this,” I heard her whisper. Then I felt her tongue on the back of my neck.

“Mmm,” I said.

She started kissing the back of my neck and reached under the t-shirt to slide her hand slowly up my ribcage.

“I wanted to just hold you,” she said. “To prove I wasn’t after you for your body. But you’re warm and so edible.” Her hand came closer to my breast. “I just can’t do it.”

She cupped my breast, and my nipple grew hard in her palm. I tried to roll over and face her, but she wasn’t letting me. She pressed herself into my back even harder, reaching under me with her right arm and pulling apart my legs. Her fingers trailed along my spread thighs as her other hand tweaked my nipple. I gasped as she nibbled my neck.

I tried again to face her.
“Stop,” she commanded. “Just let me.”

Her fingers reached my labia, and I gave up. She teased me, barely brushing my outer lips and then retreating to drag her hand up and down my thighs. I was so wet I knew she could feel it, even though she hadn’t reached up that far. I moaned, and she made a beeline for my pussy. When she reached it, she bit into my neck and pushed her finger into my slit. I spread myself as open as I could for her, and pushed my cunt onto her hand. Her thumb found my clit and she rubbed it gently as her finger pulled out of me. I whimpered in protest, but she came back inside with two fingers this time, her thumb still stroking. She fucked me slowly, her thumb dancing on my clit until I came. After my orgasm, she let me roll over.

I kissed her into submission, and we made love all night. In the morning I didn’t know what day it was.

Several weeks into rehearsals, the cast met with the costume designer. I was shocked to see I would be wearing a pink teddy for several scenes, though in all but one I would have a satin robe on over it. The teddy did a better job of accentuating what I had than of covering me. Also, I could see from the design of the robe that it would always be falling open.

What concerned me most, however, was the scene in which I’d be without the robe. We hadn’t rehearsed it yet. In it, I’d be alone on stage, waking up from a nightmare. From the script, I knew it would be difficult. There was virtually no dialogue, and the stage directions were vague. In about two minutes I had to go from esenyurt escort a dead sleep to a crying hysterical mess. I knew that Josh wanted to give me time to figure it out before working on it with me, but I was terrified. I’d put off even looking at it because I didn’t know where to start. Now that I saw I’d be almost naked, I was even more reluctant.

I tried to argue about the teddy, to no avail. Even Masha sided with the designer. Her name was Sydney, and she was a cute, butchy feminist. We had some friends in common, and she was the last person I’d expect to design a needlessly revealing costume.

“Look,” Masha said, in Sydney’s defense, “it was the 50s. This is what 20-something women slept in.”

Still, I whined. I glared at Sydney across the table.

“Rose is young and vibrant,” Josh piped in. “That’s the whole point of her—that she escaped from the Holocaust seemingly unscathed. She’s romantic. She wants to live. She wants a man. She wants to look like Marilyn Monroe.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I looked at Masha, who was trying not to laugh.

“Can’t she just wear a nice dress?” I said. “Something with a slit up the side?”

“To sleep in?” said Sydney. I looked at her. She gnawed on her pen.

“Well, what else did women wear to bed in the 50s?” I pleaded.

Sydney pulled her chair around to me and got several sketches out of her portfolio. She sat backwards on it and began to show them to me while the others talked about the rehearsal schedule over Thanksgiving. I realized I was monopolizing the designer, but since no one else had a problem with costumes, I figured it was okay.

“When researching the time period,” she began patiently, “I found seven basic styles of sleepwear for women.” She flipped through the drawings slowly. She was so close her knees were surrounding me.

I tried to look at her sketches but was noticing her mussed hair, which was black and short. Her eyes were gray, and she was wearing baggy, olive green cargo pants and a white t-shirt. Her forearms were tanned and muscular. I imagined them getting that way from her drawing for hours, propped on her elbows, outdoors somewhere. When she got to the last drawing, she leaned in, her eyes meeting mine.

“I think you’ll agree,” she said quietly, “that none of these other six is anything Rose would wear.”

I looked at the pictures. I could hardly think, but knew she was right. All of the other styles were either too old or too masculine. It had to be a teddy. But pink?

“Most teddies were pink,” Sydney answered before I asked. “White was also an option, but white works horribly on stage. It gets dirty too easily; it makes a glare with the lights; it tends to be transparent.” She met my eyes with a lopsided grin. “Plus,” she said, “Rose seemed pink to me.”

I knew defeat when I saw it. I thanked Sydney, pushed her knee aside, and got up.

“Hey, Kelsey, we’re not done yet,” said Robin.

“I know,” I told her. “I have to pee.”

Out in the hallway, Sydney found me. I was leaning against the wall, my fingers slowly recovering from the feel of her knee.

“They decided to break for fifteen,” she said. “Here, try it on.” She handed me the teddy. “Sometimes that helps.”

I looked at her doubtfully. She pushed me into the bathroom, followed me into a stall, and started helping me undress. It occurred to me that the situation was getting intense. Sydney, however, was all business, rushing to get me into the teddy, then tucking and pinning and measuring things. She was a whirr of activity, pinning the material at my bust and ass, making notes in her book, her gray eyes flicking here and there. I was impressed with her ability to put so many pins into the teddy without sticking me.

Two minutes later, she pulled me out of the stall and showed me. I had to admit, it was flattering. It was more comfortable than I’d expected, and it didn’t reveal as much as I’d feared. I looked at Sydney behind me in the mirror and smiled.

“Sydney,” I murmured, astounded, “this is really nice. It’s not nearly as bad as I’d thought. In fact, it’s kind of…classy.”

“Good,” she said, pulling me back into the stall, “glad you like it. Now we have eleven minutes.”

She got me out of the teddy and was trying to get me dressed again. I felt suddenly grateful to her, for her design and her patience. Plus, of course, she was so hot and butch. I wanted to kiss her, but her mouth was full of pins. I reached up and pulled them out of her mouth, pushing them into the toilet paper roll, one by one.

“It’s okay,” she said, clearly misunderstanding, “I won’t swallow them or anything. I do this all the time.”

“I know,” I whispered, standing on my tiptoes to lick her lips. “I’m sure you could do it in your sleep.”

I kissed her, pushing my hand up into her shirt. She gasped in surprise. I pressed my tongue into her mouth and moaned, happily anticipating the next nine minutes. I pushed my hand up towards her breast istanbul escort and grazed her nipple with my fingers. She shuddered, and I hurried to unbutton her pants.

I yanked her shirt off and took off her bra, my mouth closing on a nipple. She was panting as I pushed her pants down and slid my fingers into the elastic of her boxers. I continued to tongue her nipple, and I pressed her into the tile wall as my fingers reached her vulva. It had been less than a minute since I kissed her, and I wouldn’t have been disappointed to find her still dry, but she was soaked. As I separated her lips and slowly began to flick her clit, she groaned.

“God, you got wet fast,” I whispered as I bit softly on her nipple.

“No, Kelsey,” she said, pulling me up. “I’ve been wet for you since you showed up this morning.”

She kissed me, and I slipped inside her, pushing up and forward. I kept kissing her as I flicked her clit more quickly. She began to tremble and pushed her tongue deeper into my mouth. I went inside her again and fucked her once more before coming back out and letting my fingers whip over her clit. I rubbed her avidly, and we both moaned as she came, digging her fingers into my back and kissing me desperately.

“Thanks,” I whispered, taking her earlobe gently between my lips. I disengaged myself and started putting her back together while she sucked my fingers clean. Then I got dressed, and we kissed once more before returning to the meeting, a mere five minutes late.

Masha and I became even closer over the following weeks. We had so much in common it was surprising. We were like sisters one moment, like lovers the next, but mostly we were a dangerous twosome, sharing exploits and plotting schemes. I loved the way she saw things. She was both the most fun loving and the most sensible person I’d ever known. When it came to taking care of me, and of us she was a pro.

She remained committed to our mutual non-monogamy, convincing me easily that we needed to grow sexually, especially if we wanted to stay together. At times I was jealous. She had ways of convincing me, though, that there was no need to be. Eventually, I grew secure. She was always honest with me, and always there when I needed her. Plus, I loved having sex with other women, so I could hardly complain.

Rehearsals were moving along, though we still had not worked on the nightmare scene, and I was getting nervous. I had done zero work on it by myself, and according to the schedule, I was supposed to rehearse it with Josh and Robin in a week. I knew Josh would expect me to have at the very least thought about it before the rehearsal. Probably he’d want me to actually do it for him, and then he’d want to make adjustments to my approach.

The night before the rehearsal, I went to the drama department and holed up in one of the dance studios, perusing the script and trying to figure the scene out. I had no idea what to do, but I went through the motions. I created some semblance of the set using the blocks that were set aside for such things. Then I read the stage directions several times, wondering what the scene was even about. I was in the midst of confusion when I heard a knock.

Masha peeked around the door, smiling.

“Hey, little girl,” she said, “wanna come home with me?”

“Not now,” I said, attempting to look stern.

She pouted and sat down on the block beside me. I immersed myself in the script. After a moment, she pulled it out of my hands and kissed me, her tongue demanding, her fingers pushing into all the openings of my clothes. I pushed her away, suddenly angry.

“Masha, do you know what tomorrow is?” I demanded.

“Tuesday?” she said lamely.

“Well, yes, but it’s also the day I’ve gotta rehearse that goddamn scene,” I shouted. “And I have to work on it. Do you understand?”

“Oh, no,” she said quietly, “I would have no idea about that. Since I clearly have never worked on a scene before.”

There was a dangerous silence as we glared at each other.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not an idiot. What do think I’m doing down here at 11:00 on a Monday night? I came down here hoping to find you so I could help you. I would’ve offered before, but I kept waiting for you to ask.”

“Well, then why did you get all distracting just now? If you wanted to help me, I mean. Because that doesn’t help.” I pouted at the floor.

“I keep telling you that’s the only way I know how to be with you,” she said. “I know it’s absurd. At this point we should be more than that to each other. And we are—I mean, you are to me. But . . .” she stopped.

I sighed impatiently.

“But I want you so much that it’s hard.” She came over and handed me the script. I looked at it blankly.

“So,” she started, “what is this scene about?”

We worked late into the night, my anger turning to shame as I saw her earnestly trying to help me. I had forgotten, in my lust, about her talent and experience. I had forgotten about the professors beylikdüzü escort who raved over her, the freshman girls who wanted to be her. I’d forgotten she’d studied long and hard, in Russia and in London and summers in Minneapolis. Certainly she was no slouch. And under her tutelage, neither was I.

By morning I could cry on cue, just thinking about the scene. We had focused on the one word of dialogue I had—”Mama”—and dissected it. Masha had helped me to see that I was not simply remembering my mother, not just missing her, but actually wanting her and expecting her to come. Rose was, after all, waking up at two in the morning. She was groggy and didn’t (we decided) even remember her mother was dead. She was actually expecting her to show up. When I thought of it like that, it was easy. The whole thing just fell into place.

I did go home with Masha that night. We got in around 3:00, and I made love to her with everything I had. It was time to wake up before we fell asleep, and we were sprawled on top of each other when I let it slip, after 20 minute of thinking it at top volume.

“I love you,” I whispered, having to say it but hoping she somehow wouldn’t hear.

She kissed me, smiling into my mouth.

“I was wondering when you would figure that out,” she said softly. Then she got up and went to take a shower.

I could have been devastated, I suppose, that she didn’t say it back. I wasn’t. Partly because I knew she’d loved me first, whether she said it or not, partly because I couldn’t be anything but ecstatic, watching her naked ass walk away.

Having nailed the ‘Mama, mama’ scene, as we all began to call it, I started to enjoy rehearsals. Josh was a reasonable director, and the rest of the cast was a lot of fun. Sydney would occasionally show up when she knew we’d be finishing and offer to drive me back to my dorm. Usually, I’d let her, Masha grinning devilishly at me behind Sydney’s back.

The nights she did drive me home we always wound up fucking in her car. After our initial bathroom encounter, she seemed intent on proving her butch dominance, and I had to struggle just to touch her. I thrilled to her fingers finding their way into me in the darkness of her car, but I wanted her, too. I wasn’t wild about the idea of a woman I could rarely touch. Masha had spoiled me with her openness and her impeccable balance of give and take.

The Thanksgiving rehearsals were grueling. Since we had no classes, and our opening was soon, Josh and Robin forced us into fully costumed run-throughs. This was primarily for the technical designers and crew, so there was a lot of stopping and starting. At one point, I stood in the same spot in my pink teddy for almost four hours, while the lighting designer fiddled with various instruments from above. It was for the ‘Mama, mama’ scene, so the rest of the actors were off somewhere taking a break. I stood and stood and stood.

Eventually, even Josh said, “That looks good, Jaye. Consider me satisfied.”

Still, I heard steps on the catwalks, metal things scraping each other. More adjustments of light ensued.

“Guess it’s not all about what I think,” smiled Josh.

“Freakin’ perfectionist,” I growled, squinting up at the lights.

“Shut up, Kelsey,” said Robin. “Jaye’s doing her job.”

Her? I’d thought from the name on the list that Jaye was a guy. I shut up, but squirmed with impatience. The lights were glaring at me and changing colors as Jaye replaced the gels. I was hot and disoriented under them. I sweated. I glared blindly where I imagined Jaye might be, taking her sweet time.

“Robin,” I mewled, “I have to pee.”

“Always the same excuse,” Robin grunted.

There was a hushed conversation from above—Jaye and her crew discussing the matter. I crossed my fingers and tried to look wilted.

“Let her go,” said a male voice from above. “Get someone small to stand in her spot and hold up something pink.”

Relief surged through me. In moments I was freed by one of the production assistants who put on my pink robe.

“Thank you,” I mouthed up at the blinding light.

I headed to the lobby to join the others.

“No way did Jaye have you in there under those lights all that time,” said Shelly.

I nodded.

“Poor baby,” said Masha, kissing me on the cheek.

“I’ve heard she eats actors for lunch,” said Rick, lifting an eyebrow dramatically.

“Yeah, and she’s invisible,” said Shelly. “Nobody I know has ever seen her.”

I wondered vaguely what that was about. I only knew three things about lighting designers. They wore all black. Most of them were nocturnal, and they had an almost universal disdain for actors.

“Must drink,” I said and walked away.

I drank two bottles of water, then went to the bathroom and peed. By the time I’d splashed cool water on my face I felt better. I stood up to see Masha behind me in the mirror.

“Sweetie, you’re all flushed,” she cooed. “Did you drink something? It’s hot under those 4000 watt monsters.”

I nodded, then turned around and kissed her, my tongue probing gently.

“Mmm,” she said, “you taste like water.”

We giggled, and walked out of the bathroom holding hands.

“You know,” I said, “I’m getting way too comfortable wandering around the hallways in this pink teddy. Soon, I’ll be an exhibitionist.”

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