Erotic Teasers

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Yes, no, yes, please. Oh. Oh.” She breathed in, a high note edging around the intake of air and then she moaned out, “Nooo . . . No. Oh, yes. Yes. Fuck!”

  That was it. Orgasm exploded through my body and all I was aware of for several hot, blissful moments was the heavy throb of my heartbeat and the burst of color behind my eyelids—the ultimate painting of my erotic imagination, each stroke of pigment placed right where it needed to be.

  When I surfaced again, I noticed the hot slickness against my cheek, a mixture of Beth’s sweat and tears. Her whole body had gone limp, and I had to brace my shoulders to remain balanced on the stool. As Zach whispered praises into her ear, the ecstasy soaked through my skin and into my bones. I knew I would be riding on the warm, satisfying buzz of release for the rest of the night.

  In order to properly pull us both from subspace, Zach had to release our bonds. I felt the popping of knots, and the tension that had held us together fell loose with a few tugs here and there.

  When I was free to move, I slid from the stool and turned around to hold Beth close to me like we were slow dancing. Her eyes were closed but there was a hint of a smile gracing her lips.

  “I got a real one,” she slurred out, her words heavy like honey after her release. “I’m sorry you didn’t.”

  “Oh, no, no,” I said, brushing her damp bangs from her eyes. “I certainly did.”

  She nudged her body into mine as I planted a slow kiss to the side of her face.

  The salty taste of her sweat mingled with the waxy tone of my lipstick, and when I pulled back I saw the shade of pink left by my lips had blended perfectly to the blush on her cheek.

  DESDEMONA ON THE FRINGE

  Kendel Davi

  Malik’s body was carved from the most exquisite walnut. As he stepped toward me, I extended my trembling hands and swept my fingers across his firm landscape. My breath ricocheted off his stomach. A salacious moan escaped my lips, soft enough where only he could hear it, and I turned my gaze toward his strong yet caring face. A peek of white teeth radiated from the depths of his coarse raven beard before he opened his mouth and said, “Tonight, I’m honored you’ve allowed yourself to be my queen.”

  Malik’s approach was gentle but mine was desperate, and he kissed me to calm me down. I pushed open his tender lips with mine. His sweet breath rushed into my willing mouth. I knew I had to say something as my hands fumbled with his belt buckle, but the words were locked in my psyche. My once damp lips were suddenly dry with anxiety. I tossed my head back and shouted, “Line!”

  My voice ripped through the cavernous theater. A dense silence followed, which was punctuated by Vivian huffing, “The heavens shall sing our praises as I claim you as my king.”

  Embarrassment clutched my soul and attempted to rip itself out of my body. I had played this role less than a month ago, so why were the words escaping me now? Maybe it was the change in location. Maybe it was the pressure of doing this Best of the Fringe Festival? Deep down I knew this lack of focus had everything to do with me playing Desdemona to Malik’s Othello.

  The guy who previously played this role was pedestrian at best. He was a C-list movie star who ended up being a box-office draw for the production. His presence put us in front of the committee who ran this festival. He booked an acting job that was a conflict with this show, and Malik swooped in and took his place. The differences between the two were blatantly apparent.

  Malik could easily pass for a Moorish military leader. His body had been sculpted from lifting heavy stage equipment. He towered over me by at least half a foot. His eyes were gentle yet intense at the same time. His broad shoulders and rich chestnut skin made him a perfect fit for Othello. Me playing a Venetian beauty, on the other hand, was a stretch. My agent told me I had a face and body that were perfect for sitcoms. I could’ve viewed that statement as an insult, but these cherub cheeks, buxom frame, and light tawny skin allowed me to work more often than not. It was Vivian’s trust in my talent that had put me in a role I doubted anyone else would cast me in.

  It didn’t help that Malik and I had unfinished business between us. When he first joined this company several years ago, I’d locked my eyes on him. As luck would have it, I was involved with a jackass at the time, but as that relationship fell apart, Malik and I started to heat up. After a few drunken nights of heavy petting that left my denim jeans soaked, he landed a tech job that took him away for a year. Now he was back, we were both completely single, but the pressure of this show had us both stressed out.

  “Let’s take ten,” Vivian sighed.

  Vivian was the director. This adaptation of Othello was her vision. In the original text we never witness Desdemona and Othello consummate their marriage. Vivian felt the passion of this interracial relationship needed to be on full display, where there was no denying their love for each other. This scene had been carefully choreographed to get that point across.

  Vivian dropped her notebook on the wooden folding table and approached me. The stomp of her boots against the hard stage floor sent chills through me. I’d witnessed her eviscerate actors who weren’t prepared, but I’d never been on that side of her wrath nor did I ever want to be. I had my apology ready, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Vivian held up her hand.

  “What’s going on, Lara? This scene was so hot last week I had to cross my legs to get through it.”

  She stood there waiting. The orange stage lights gave her olive skin a goddess-like glow and I swallowed hard, not sure I had the answer to her question.

  “Maybe if you two fucked each other it just might help,” Vivian mumbled.

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” I quickly replied. That thought wasn’t meant to leave my lips. I quickly giggled and took a step backward as I covered my honesty with an intellectual response. “But that would take away from the honesty of this being the moment where they consummate their marriage, right?”

  I stared into Vivian’s hazel Egyptian eyes, looking for cracks in her stern gaze, but there were none. Her intensity was unnerving, and I cracked a smile to break the tension.

  “That’s what I love about you, Lara. You sure know how to smooth things over, don’t you? The stress is getting to everybody tonight. Let’s mark through the rest of the play to save our energy for tomorrow night.” A pained expression graced Malik’s face as Vivian approached him. I couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but by the way her hand gently stroked his back, I knew he needed the comfort.

  “Let’s break early. See everyone back here in a little over an hour,” Vivian shouted and headed back to her table.

  Malik walked toward me, yanking at the fake beard. “I’m glad she’s letting me get rid of this. It’s irritating as hell.” The skin on his face stretched as he pulled on the beard. “And the smell alone. It’s gotta be giving you a headache too.”

  His frustration was apparent, and I placed my hand softly on his shoulder.

  “Let’s take care of that in the dressing room, okay?” Malik breathed at a meditative pace as I carefully applied spirit gum remover to the fake beard as I straddled him in the chair.

  “Remember the last play we did together? That one-act where the writer thought he was the next David Mamet?” he asked with his eyes closed. The timber of his voice carried a sage-like serenity even in this hushed tone. “It was nothing but pages of the words fuck and cunt with no plot.”

  The details were a little sketchy in my mind. I played a prison nurse and Malik was a drug lord. The scenes were so poorly written we played in the unwritten elements and turned them into seduction scenes on opening night. The director hated it but the reviews said our scenes were the saving grace in an extremely flawed show. Malik also played the judge. He wore a beat-up gray beard that I helped remove every night for his other scenes. Maybe that’s where this memory came from.

  “You were brilliant in that. We just clicked on all levels. When Vivian cast you in this, I jumped at the chance to act with you again. I really haven’t done too
much acting recently. I make most of my money doing lights. I keep looking at those stagehands thinking that’s where I need to be and not here. I’ve been rusty the past few rehearsals and I wanted to apologize for that.”

  He couldn’t be serious. I’d never seen him so focused in my life. The idea that he might be struggling with the role never entered my mind. I’d been too busy watching him, not realizing how much farther we could go. Then again, I wasn’t carrying the weight of this production on my shoulders by playing the title character.

  “I had no idea you felt that way. Just think of how far you’ve come in less than a month.”

  “I can be better. We both know that and so does Vivian.”

  I pulled the last of his fake beard away from his face. Clean shaven, he looked just like he did when we first met. He opened his eyes, sat up, and placed his hands on my thighs. I lowered my hips so we were close enough that if I pursed my lips we would have kissed. His vulnerability radiated through me, and I broke up the intensity by pulling a loose strand of hair from the beard that was still stuck to his face.

  “You know, Vivian said it might help if we just fucked.”

  Malik released an exasperated sigh and reclined back in the chair.

  “The way she’s been riding my ass every night she probably thought in some strange way it would help.”

  “Well, do you think it would, you know, help?”

  His eyes danced at the thought of Vivian’s suggestion. For the first time since he stepped into this role, I felt his openness, his vulnerability and his strength. I leaned in closer, wondering if I should make the first move, but Malik grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me into him. He caught me off guard but not for long. I slid my hand over and seized his cock. It had been over a year since I held him in my hands. This time I wasn’t tipsy and I gasped as my fingers clamped around his girth.

  “Oh fuck, Lara,” he groaned and tilted his hips, forcing his hardness into the palm of my hand. With his mouth open in delight, I sealed our reunion with a kiss. He tugged at my gown, slipping his hands between the layers of soft material, and pulled down my sports bra. His sturdy fingers teased my taut nipples, turning my blood to lava. When I pulled open the gown to gain some relief, Malik engulfed one of my nipples with his warm mouth. He flicked his tongue on the sensitive tip as I blindly searched for his zipper. I was about to take him right here, but a figure in my peripheral vision forced me to snap my head toward the dressing room door.

  “Now that’s what I need to see more of onstage.”

  I had no idea how long Vivian had been watching, but the smirk on her face let me know she’d seen enough. I jumped out of Malik’s lap and wrapped my gown around my exposed breasts. Vivian walked over to me. “This Desdemona isn’t some woeful chick awaiting her fate. She stands in defiance of her father for the love of a man. Not just any man, but a North African warrior. This is the night she claims her reward in the face of all that racist bullshit, and the audience needs to feel that. Sometimes it feels like you two are scared to touch each other, but I can see now that’s not the problem.”

  I drooped my head like a schoolgirl who’d just gotten scolded.

  “I’ll give you two some time alone.”

  Vivian looked at me, and then shot a glare at Malik as she exited. The room dropped to a dead silence. I looked at Malik, who appeared broken. He gazed back at me with guilty eyes. I felt I should say something, but a balloon of embarrassment choked the words from coming out. I grabbed my purse, stormed out of our dressing room, and headed to the alley behind the theater.

  I leaned against the cold metal fire door, smacking on a stick of gum, wishing it were a cigarette. The gum wasn’t doing the trick. My eyes drifted over to a nearby liquor store. Just a few puffs would clear my head, but as I approached the glass door I caught my reflection. I hadn’t taken off my stage makeup, and what I saw in front of me was the purest essence of royalty. Though slightly exaggerated for the stage, the strength of my appearance shocked me. This wasn’t the role of girl next door or the lead’s best friend that I’m usually cast in. This was a woman who deserved to reign with her handsome lord by her side, and I had yet to fully realize that. Desdemona will always be a classic Shakespearean tragic heroine, but until her demise, my Desdemona will live her life to the fullest. I headed back to the theater. We still had to finish this tech rehearsal tonight but tomorrow, when those curtains opened, I knew exactly what I had to do.

  I kept my chatter down to a minimum in our dressing room, mainly due to preshow jitters, but Malik was a nervous tsunami of unfocused energy. During the rest of last night’s technical run, we’d raised the bar to where any signs of worry had been erased from Vivian’s mind. The scene in which he murdered me had gone so well everyone thought Malik had actually hurt me. I thought about waiting for Malik after the run but Vivian had some notes for him. Instead I went back to my hotel room alone and prepared myself to be taken by my husband onstage for the first time.

  I performed my vocal warm-ups in our dressing room as I undressed, which brought Malik’s gaze to my reflection. Normally I would’ve changed in the bathroom but I needed him to see what I was wearing. The sheer black bra and panties left nothing to the imagination. My hard nipples peeked over the top of the bra; the low cut of the cups was designed to create more cleavage. His eyes soon locked on my pussy. I gently stroked my fingers against the cloth, allowing my wetness to absorb into the material so he could see the V I’d trimmed last night to entice him. I hooked my thumb into the elastic band, pulled forward, and let it slap back against my skin.

  “How would you feel if I wore this tonight?”

  He kept his eyes glued to my pussy as he stated, “If it makes you feel comfortable. Why not?”

  “I guess you’re right. The only person who gets to see this is you.”

  His hands fell into his lap in a failed attempt to cover his obvious hard-on. I slipped on my gown, making sure my eyes never left his, and watched as he attempted to tame his cock with the palm of his hand.

  “Well, I’m off to get my wig done.”

  I sashayed over to his chair, stepped in front of him, placed my hands on his thighs, and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. I hovered momentarily, walking my fingers over the hand that pushed down his erection and giving him a squeeze. I smiled, daring him to react to my touch as my index finger slipped under his palm and found the bulge of his cockhead.

  “Have a wonderful show, my Othello.”

  I giggled as I headed toward the door. Malik followed me with his eyes. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he continued to press down on his erection. I opened the door, blew him a kiss, and let the door to our dressing room slam behind me.

  I was surprisingly calm as I waited in the wings. Malik had been on fire so far, lifting the intensity of his performance to a place I’d never seen before. There were points where I watched him in awe rather than preparing. As the lights faded, I took a moment to collect myself, and when my cue line was spoken, I waltzed onto the stage. The stage lights allowed me to feel intimate despite being in front of three hundred people.

  “Othello!”

  I raced behind him and embraced him in a coquettish way, just as directed. I traveled my hands down his body as I spoke my lines. I accented each line I spoke with the snap of a button from his shirt, exposing more of his bronze flesh to the audience. Then I nibbled on his ear, something I never did in rehearsal, and when my fingertips discovered his nipples, I pinched them.

  “Oh fuck,” he mumbled.

  From the sound of his voice I knew that was coming from Malik and not Othello, so I pinched even harder. He threw his hands back, clawed my thighs, and I released his nipples with a snap of my fingers. He threw his body forward, grabbing the back of the chair in front of him. I heard the wood of the chair creak as he gripped it, trying to maintain some semblance of control. I followed the blocking and stepped backward to the bed. He let go of the chair and approached me with desperation, b
ut an open hand slap to his bare chest stopped him. I took one more step back and awaited his line.

  “Tonight I’m honored you’ve allowed yourself to be my queen.”

  “And the heavens will sing our praises as I claim you as my king.”

  I opened the mesh that surrounded the bed, grabbed him by the belt buckle, and pulled him inside. Even though there were hundreds of people watching us, as soon as the lights changed they would see nothing but our shadows. When the front lights dimmed, he yanked open my gown and saw the surprise I’d been waiting to give to him. This scene needed to be performed in my most natural state. I’d taken off my lingerie after my wig was finished. With his mouth agape, seemingly still in shock at my nakedness, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my bare pussy.

  “Slip your fingers inside of me, my warrior prince,” I whispered.

  He hesitated but we didn’t have time. I had less than two minutes to improvise in between the blocking of this scene to get what I needed. Malik was still in shock so I held his hand steady and lowered myself onto his strong stiff fingers. The girth of his digits had me stuffed. The fact that a packed audience was witnessing this turned me on even more. I used the base of his wrist as a fulcrum until I found the perfect angle to force his fingers to brush against my spot. I writhed my hips as my pent-up energy flowed onto his sturdy hand. I held off the urge to come, gliding my fingers under his and coating them with my juices before placing those glistening digits into his open mouth. The lights faded to an evening blue, leaving us completely in silhouette. The sound of his lips smacking on my fingers teased my ears. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he moaned as he weaved his tongue between my sticky fingers, savoring every drop.

  I had to be conscious of how much time we had. The next part required a simulated blow job. As the lights transitioned to a darker blue I knew I had to hurry. He slipped his fingers deeper inside me. I bit my bottom lip to muffle my squeals of pleasure before carefully pulling his fingers from my pussy. I got on my knees and tore away at his belt buckle. Malik eagerly unzipped his pants. All he had to do was stand and watch, but the taste of my pussy seemed to lift him beyond the planned choreography.