I flinched when the entire audience groaned at the news. Amanda was in the first scene and had to hear their disappointment. There were a few boos when Amanda proudly walked on stage for her opening speech but, after just a few minutes, she had them. Her shrew was both funny and sexy. The audience laughed as she chastised her husband and cheered when she bared a breast showing him what “he wouldn’t be getting tonight.”
But my favorite part was just before the intermission … the scene where Petruchio, her husband, got so fed up with the shrew’s antics that he turned her over his knee. When he lifted her dress to give her a swat on a panty covered ass, he discovered that Amanda had left her undies in her dressing room. Not to be undone, the actor spanked her with the palm of his hand. And when Amanda said …
“Is that all thou hast?”
… he gave her naked bum another smack. And then another. And continued to redden her well-shaped bottom until the curtain closed to a standing, cheering audience.
During the second act, Amanda kept the audience spell bound as she gradually changed from the evil bitch of the west to a loving wife. She received a thunderous standing ovation at the end and was forced to make three curtain calls before the raucous crowd would leave.
Mrs. B didn’t like waiting in crowded lines. “Always leave yourself an out,” she reminded me. “By far the best place to stick a needle in an unsuspecting arm is in the crush of a crowd … be it a tube station, soccer match or leaving the theatre.”
We waited in our seats until the auditorium was nearly empty, reveling at how well Amanda performed, and didn’t make our way to the stairs until the last of the audience had already exited. Two rather large men, with the word “SECURITY” emblazoned on their jackets, blocked our escape.
“Excuse me sir. Please come with me,” one of them said in the no nonsense tone cops use.
“We were just leaving. Give us a minute and we’ll be out the door.”
“That will have to wait. I’ve been sent to collect you.”
“By whom?”
“This will be much easier if you just do what we ask,” the second man said.
Shit. They know I poisoned Lily.
My initial thought was to take out one of the guards and bet on the fact that I could outrun the other to the door. Once I was on the street, I would disappear into the crowd and count on the Company to get me out of the country. But Mrs. B was with me. As smart and beautiful as she was, I didn’t think she was going to outrun anybody in her three-inch heels. So, I let the two men escort me down the stairs, figuring I’d make my break when Mrs. B had time to get in the clear.
I fully expected a paddy wagon full of London Bobbies waiting for me in the main lobby, but it was nearly empty with most of the audience already out the door.
There must be some sort of jurisdictional agreement between the theatre security service and local cops. The security guys escort the suspect to the door where the real law enforcement guys take the criminal into custody.
We didn’t go out the front door. Which made sense. They wouldn’t want the theatre going public to know that there had been a murderer in their midst. The exchange would be better handled in a side alley or back parking lot … cuff me, throw me in the back of a cop car and whisk me off to jail where I would wait for my trial. I could already see the headlines.
“American arrested for poisoning stage star Lily Langford.”
As we walked backstage, I sized up my two captors. They were both large men. The one on my right appeared to have visited a gym sometime in the last few months while his compatriot apparently spent most of his free time in the pub. Most people would take out the couch potato and hope to outrun his stronger partner. But most people don’t know how to disable someone, no matter how strong or talented, with a single blow. My plan was to drop the macho man to his knees with a blow to the larynx and give the pub-dweller a heart attack as he tried to run me down.
My fist was clenched, my legs positioned, and I was just about to strike when my target suddenly stopped walking and knocked on a door.
“Who is it?” a voice asked.
“Security. We’ve got him.”
“Bring him in.”
The couch spud opened the door and then stood aside as muscle man pushed me into the room.
“You want us to stay?” he said.
“No. Leave us,” the most wonderful voice in the world answered. “I can handle him.”
I closed the door behind me and turned to catch Amanda in my arms.
“You’ve got some serious explaining to do,” she said after a long and passionate kiss.
“What? A guy’s not allowed to go to the theatre?”
“Not after a year and a half. That’s how long it’s been since I left Mrs. B’s house. And not once did you come see me perform.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I look for you every performance and check with the box office for any tickets sold to a Mrs. Bancroft.”
“Is that how you found me tonight? There’s got to be more than one woman named Bancroft in London.”
“I had a friend sneak up into the rafters during the intermission with theatre glasses and a picture of you. ‘Middle section, fourth row back,’ she told me. By far the best-looking man in the house.”
“So why the drama with the security goons? Couldn’t they just tell me that ‘Miss Amanda Zimmerman, the star of the show, requests your presence in her dressing room?'”
“I wanted to see if you’d run.”
“Run. What man in his right mind would run away from an invitation to spend time with you?”
“Maybe the man who poisoned Lily Langford to help an old friend get a break. Come on. I don’t see you for eighteen months and the first time Lily gets sick, you happen to show up. I don’t know exactly what Mrs. B is training you for, but I’d bet a thousand pounds it involves both a cloak and a dagger.”
“Did I mention you were absolutely incredible tonight?” I asked.
“Is your non-answer an admission of guilt?”
“I especially liked the ending of the second act. It brought back memories of what we used to do together.”
“Fine. If you’re not going to answer, at least tell me if she’ll be okay?”
“Who?”
“Lily Langford you dumb ass. Is she going to die?”
“Would you like her to? That would be a fortuitus event for you. Especially after tonight’s performance.”
“If you’re offering to kill Lily so I can further my career, the answer is no. Just tell me if she’s going to recover from whatever you’ve already done to her.”
God I missed Amanda. I missed the way we could talk about anything. I missed helping her learn her lines. Even after a couple of dozen replacement maids, I still missed making love to her. And I missed arguing with her. I know that sounds strange, but every argument we ever had eventually ended with a long kiss followed by the best sex a man could ever want.
“Have you had your shots?” I asked.
“Quit trying to change the subject and tell me if Lily is going to die.”
“Mrs. B insisted I get mine. Especially the flu shot. This year’s flu is supposed to be particularly nasty. Not deadly, but if you get it, you’ll be out of commission for at least a week.”
“You gave her the flu? How the hell do you give someone –?
Amanda pretended to fight the kiss. She put her hands on my chest in a weak attempt to push me away. But her lips remained locked on mine and our tongues danced like the old friends they were. Her robe slipped off her shoulders like the curtain falling on the last act. But in this case, instead of marking the end of a performance, the show was just getting started.
Act one was a slow and sensuous removal of her bra and panties followed by a quick action scene where my clothes magically transferred from my body to a pile on the floor in less than ten seconds. I took a moment to visually soak in the sensuality of her succulent body.
Her breasts, while on the small side, were perfectly shaped with round areolas accenting thimble sized nipples that begged to be sucked. Her waist was so thin I could almost encircle it with the thumb and forefinger of my two hands. The flare of her hips led to slightly exaggerated ass cheeks which, while conveniently sized for grasping, also made the perfect targets for a loving swat. And her pussy … oh my god, her pussy. That petite, smooth, hairless mound — centered at the apex of the best set of thighs you’d ever want to spread — called to me like the Sirens called to Odysseus.
Yes. I wanted to fondle Amanda’s cute little boobs. I yearned to reach around her thin waist and squeeze her ass cheeks in my strong hands. But my fingers, tongue and pecker all needed to be inside her pussy.
Act two started with a demonstration of strength as I slipped my hands around her tiny waist and lifted Amanda’s tantalizing tits to my hungry mouth. I kissed, sucked and licked her sensitive nipples until they swelled to twice their normal size and then gently placed her on a couch … boobs up, butt down. My lips and tongue initially protested when I pulled them off Amanda’s tasty tits but when I started the southward march with a line of kisses down her breastbone, they realized their ultimate destination and only paused for a moment to tickle Amanda’s belly button before arriving at the prize.
I’ve heard it said that the nipples of small breasted women were more sensitive than those attached to Double D udders. I can’t say for sure if that is a scientific fact — although I am more than willing to be a full participant in the study — but Amanda’s response to my titty teasing seemed to prove the theory. When it was time to finally focus my complete attention on her clean-shaven pussy, her sexy slit was more than ready for whatever I had in mind.