There she was taller then most men I know. Long and lean, walking like an alabaster Amazon. She was always graceful, her lithe body feline and supple. Everything about her radiated confidence. Her flaming red hair, the olive green eyes that crinkled when she smiled; a grin that was a secret weapon unleashed on us poor unsuspecting souls. It won you over, instantly, irrevocably and drew you in like a cat to a sunbeam.

Everyone she met liked her instantly. Me? She made my heart stop, my knees weak and my lungs unable to draw air. I forgot who I was, how to breath … to me she was magic. Her stride full of purpose, as only a person used to getting her way can adopt, but not a bully. Her hands fluttering like caged birds as she spoke with assurance to those who crossed her path. Absolutely unique.

Her face lit up when she entered the dressing room. My inner thighs now predictably damp under my skirt. Anticipation? I always enjoyed our first encounter of the day. Her arms opening wide, as I flashed my own smile and moments later was engulfed in her warm greeting. I could loose myself in her scent. Her odor, her smooth skin cool and fresh, and her tresses tickling my nose drove my brain to a frenzy. It was heaven. Her large breasts against my more modest ones; nipples kissing through fabric in their own “hello“. I closed my eyes, lived the instant fully knowing it to be all to brief. A small sigh escaped her lips as she pulled away. Did I really hear that? Was her hold on my arm a second too long? Did I see desire in her stare?

She flopped in the chair, deftly pulling her mane out of the way into a high ponytail so that I may start her makeup application. She had been the understudy, stepping in at the very last moment on opening night of the show. Owing her debut to a tragic death in the family of the leading performer. I reminisced, thinking back to that night, how nervous she had been. I had smoothed her nerves, rubbing her shoulders, and helping her into her costume, touching up her make-up as she radiated determination, resolve and fear. I spoke to her about the history of make-up, rambling with my own nervous energy. We had in-avertedly bonded that night.

An acrobat and actress of extraordinary skill; she had been a huge hit, and after 12 shows it was decided she would stay on as the lead. She had earned the honor but was aware that tragedy had also played a hand in her favor and remained gracious and humble. I remembered her bounding into the dressing room after the news to find me, thanking me and hugging me. I had been perplexed; all I had done was natter on. She had explained that my talking had soothed her. That my “enlightening” her on an unrelated subject had provided her mind with the escape necessary to not focused on how unprepared she felt. She insisted that I had been key to her success that night, and that she owe me a great debt.

I shook my head, releasing myself from the clouds of the past. I was only the make-up artist. Preferring the backstage world to the bright lights. Too shy for an audience. I loved being a part of the magic – but did not feel the need for acknowledgement. Not modesty. No… that would be a lie. Just a love for anonymity.

She relaxed into her seat, seeming to enjoy the feel of my brushes, sponges and fingers on her skin, face, neck …. upper chest. I leaned in a little closer, detailed work requiring I do so. I could smell the scent of hot chocolate on her breath, making me smile. I realized then that if I only pursed my lips, our cupids bows would meet. They were like perfect reflections in a mirror, wholly identical. Our noses would not collide, hers had a slight uplift, giving her an air of nobility, mine was small and soft.

“You going to kiss me?” I looked up into her eyes, her earthy tone a contrast to my sky blue ones. I could not decide if she was teasing, asking or daring me. I blushed prettily and went back to work as a knot in my stomach, took hold, pulling me into despair. I had let the opportunity pass me by and I knew it. My heart sank to my knees.

That night, like every night, I sat in our dressing room on a stool, seeing in my minds eye every moment she was on stage unfold like a silent movie. I was there for emergency touch ups, wardrobe malfunctions and other such tasks. A show of this size required that many of us expand on our responsibilities and include tasks that do not fall in our job descriptions. I had the lucky privilege of being assigned exclusively to her. Dedicated to our Star. I could vaguely hear the audience swoon, cry, laugh and gasp. If only they knew how amazing she was in real life they would love her, not just admire her. I had seen the show a hundred times or more and even I was sucked in night after night. I knew she added a little to her performance every time. No two deliveries were the same. She was worthy of the accolades.

Having wiped the stage make-up from her face, and assisted her out of her costume that was like a second skin, I went home alone. I had seen her naked so many times, but I never grew tired of the sight. I loved how flushed she was from the effort. Her white flesh splotched in little red patches that somehow were strategically placed as if to only enhance her curves. Mother Nature had really been generous with this creature. I reveled in the sight and night after night, once I was in the safety of my bed , I fell asleep touching myself playing in my head different scenarios where my courage did not fail me and I would take her.

I walked in early the next day as I always do, enjoying the solitude before the mad rush and chaos of the others. The calm before the storm of actors, acrobats, light and backstage crew. The peace before the near panic energy that infected us all like a pandemic before the show. I hummed a little tune I had heard on the radio as I laid out my materials, cleaned brushes and tidied up the table that was allocated to me. To us.

“You have a lovely voice you know…” I spun around startled. She stood there is a summer dress, long legs bare with curving delicious lines, and simple sandals on her slightly calloused feet. She had nothing on her face. Just her own extraordinary natural beauty. Her peaches and cream skin speaking for itself, her face a glow of health. I usually felt such a thrill in applying make-up; but with her, it always seemed more like a crime.

“We alone?” she chirped.
I nodded.
“Strong silent type today, huh?”
I grinned and replied,
“Well, you know me …. You never know what you will get”
“Yes, that is very true. Unpredictable. I like that about you … I …. like you.”

My heart stopped. I froze. Was I actually hearing what I thought I was hearing? Or was I in bed masturbating lost in an all too real fantasy driving my clit to release? My hands trembled and I dropped the bottle of cleaner to the floor. She walked up, let her arms wrap around my waste, and whispered into my ear as the small hairs there rose up to her lips:
“I am not just imagining your attraction am I? You do like me this way … yes? Oh God …. Please …. Please say something ?”
I shook, lost for words. The vulnerability in her voice throwing me off completely. I felt utterly ill equipped to see her this way. She let go a little, suddenly uncertain and whimpered:
“Yesterday …. You ….I thought you …..Oh I … sorry … I thought …. I was so sure …..”
I turned around within her embrace, saw tears forming in her eyes, it broke my heart and broke the ice – I leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips.

The dam broke.

I let my hands ride up her thighs and hesitated a moment. She did not stop me. I was drunk with desire as the satin softness of her skin quivered bellow my palm. She moaned and let her forehead rest against mine. I caressed her ass, feeling diaphanous satin underpants stretched across the round cheeks of her backside. I wanted more. Pulling a strap off her shoulder, I released her breasts to my view as they swung in bounding arcs. She leaned forward, came closer as I pressed my lips onto one of the soft pillows, while she tried to force more of her mammary into my sucking mouth. She dropped her hands, expertly unhooked my bras releasing my own mounds from inside my camisole. Her fingers latched on to my nipple pinching it into hardness.

We kissed, caressed and murmured words of affection for what seemed an eternity. My hand slid into her crotch, her red-haired cunt was just visible from my viewpoint as it strained and pulled against my fingers. Her legs parted. I gripped her panties and followed them down as I slid them off her long sinewy legs. She kicked them free and spread her legs even further as my fingers pushed the lips apart to reveal her crimsoned clit. My tongue lashed out and brushed solidly against the hanging pussy lips, my open mouth clamped hungrily onto the wetness, sucking, licking, lapping the hole into heated fury.

She reluctantly pushed me away, her whole frame trembling with unreleased excitement and pleasure. “No … I want to enjoy you … please?” She pulled my camisole off, and unzipped my skirt and let it fall with my thong to the ground. She looked at me, smiling “Your beautiful… so beautiful …wow…” I was shocked. Me? Beautiful? Pretty perhaps, but beautiful? She kept whispering it over and over. I didn’t dare move. She walked around me, letting her hands glide and create little paths of goose bumps along my skin. Like ants creating a highway to bring food back and forth she drew lines of exquisite pleasure across my flesh. Bending her fashionable body until her flawless nose came into contact with the two cheeks of my full, ripe ass. She spread the heaps of soft flesh apart, stretching the crack wide, laying the brown cluster of the anus open to quick licks of her darting tongue.

I almost lost all resolve and melted like a dollop of butter on hot fresh pancakes.  But her hand held me up, locking my knees for me. She pointed her tongue and pressed against the taut tight hole. No one had ever done that and I was certain that the sensation was more then I could manage until her tongue slipped inside. I did collapse then to the ground. I lay there whimpering as she held me a moment in her arms. Tears of joy running down my face. She kissed them away “my lovely princess … “ she murmured sending my heart into flights of both elation and fright. Her hand wandered, her fingers feverishly lashing out to briskly rub across the pinched, hard nipples and move on to my small open cunt. My hips lifted as she pressed her hand into the moist trap. She drove one, two, three fingers deep inside, the lips moved apart, straining, and dripping fluids.

She shifted slightly, putting herself in position, spread the vagina lips open with her fingers and finally plunged her face into the slippery juices. She drove her tongue far inside, her fingers still working in and out in a come hither movement over and over…. Driving my small hips into wilder erratic humping. Her other hand stroked my stomach, or reached for a breast. I seemed so small in her embrace. I felt her teeth grate against my hard clit, her tongue spanked my cunt walls and I suddenly bolted, bucked, humped, pounded my juices into her eager sucking mouth, grabbing the top of her head I held on to her hair.

My hands tore, squeezed my breasts; she pulled her fingers almost out of my crotch and put them back in fully inundated with juices .  My slender, if not long, legs flexed, tensed before they kicked, jerked, bent and twisted. She kept her tongue deep inside as she felt the groping spasms send floods of wetness into her mouth. I screamed as I came and climaxed violently, uninhibited, total.

Moments later she held me in her arms, as I let my fingers explore her in awe … tears still streaming.
“You ok?”
I nodded .
“Quiet again huh?”
I grinned remaining silent.
“We should get dressed”. She said then seeing a question on my lips.
“Shhhh … consider this a small token towards a debt repaid. … ” She got up, held out a hand and pulled me to her. Her lips met mine in one last kiss before show time.