Opening Night in the Sound Booth (Backstage Quickies #2)

Opening Night in the Sound Booth

“ Ladies and Gentlemen, that concludes act one of Midsummer Nights Dream: A Musical. Please enjoy a fifteen-minute intermission.” My voice is deeper as I make the announcement. I might not be an actor, but I enjoy doing voices and this one’s my favorite.

After turning on the lights in the main house, I lean back and stretch out my neck. Half-way there. I’ve never had such a hard time focusing during an opening night. Sure, I’ve seen the show a zillion times already, but normally opening night is special. There’s an energy to it. There’s also a hundred things that always go wrong.

But nothing has gone wrong tonight, and rather than feeling the magic of a first performance, I just feel… horny. Have been since the beginning of the show, when Heather first stepped out on that stage and started singing. I’ve been in love with her for years, but she barely notices me. She’s quiet, a real loner type. We have that in common.

But she’s gorgeous and curvy with the grace of a goddess. And I’m scrawny and uncoordinated. Which is why I’m back here in the sound booth rather than up there on that stage.

I’ve always been told I’ve got a nice voice. Perfect pitch even. But I can’t act. I can’t dance. And I ‘have a face for radio,’ which is just a nice way of saying I never outgrew my teenage acne.

There’s a crackle on my headset. A mic is still on. This is more like what I expect from an opening night. The sound board tells me exactly who left her mic on. Little miss prima ballerina. She’s arguing with someone. Her boyfriend, I think.

Flipping a switch, I call the stage manager. “Georgie, you there? Katie left her mic on again. Georgie?”

No answer. Georgie is supposed to stay on headset the whole show, but she probably stepped out to use the restroom during intermission or something.

I rip off my headset and throw open the door to the sound booth, ready to make a run for backstage, but then I realize I can’t hear Katie anymore. She must have switched channels on the mic rather than just leaving it on. I wait another minute out in the house to make sure, and then go back to the sound booth.

Maybe she figured it out and switched it off. Putting my headset back on eliminates that option. Katie’s boyfriend is coming in loud and clear.

“You looked so good up on that stage, kitty cat. So fucking good.”

She scolds him for being backstage and asks how he got in. I’m curious about that too. We’ve got pretty good security measures. Apparently, someone let him in. I probably shouldn’t listen, but I love a bit of drama. Why else would I work in a theatre?

“I need you, Katie. Need you so goddamn bad.”

Oh. Now, I really shouldn’t be listening. But I can’t seem to make myself stop. Their arguing turns into heavy panting, and it’s clear what’s happening backstage.

Jealous, and still horny as hell, I palm my cock through my pants. This is so wrong, so inappropriate, but no one needs to know. No one ever comes up here during intermission. And I can't seem to stop myself.

I haven’t had a date since high school and sex is pretty much a pipe dream. So maybe it’s creepy to be listening in, but this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to real action and I’m fascinated.

The sounds coming through my headphones grow more urgent, no longer words, just panting gasps and groans.

I’m being a total creeper and I know it, but I can’t stop listening. After having a raging boner for the whole first act, can anyone blame me for listening? How much self-control can one man have?

I glance at the clock, then the door, swallow, get up, and click the lock. If anyone needs me, they can get me on the headset. The one window in the room faces the stage, and we’re high enough that no one in the house can see what’s going on under the soundboard.

No longer thinking straight, I unzip my jeans and take my cock in my hand. The erotic moans coming through the headset are unlike anything I’ve heard before. I imagine it’s Heather making those sounds. Heather squeezing my dick, sucking it, fondling my balls, straddling my lap as she takes my cock in her—

The door swings open.

“Hey, Van, Puck said you needed me to—”

I’m so stunned, I don’t jump or cover myself or anything. I just sit there with my dick in my hand as Heather stands frozen in the doorway, gawking at me.

“I’m… I should have… I mean… wow.” Her gaze zeroes in on my cock. My skin heats under her attention. Heather Benoa is staring at my dick!

She takes a step inside the room and closes the door behind her, flipping the deadbolt with a twist of her delicate fingers. Wait, didn't I already lock the door? How did she get in here?

“Puck said...” She pauses, eyes lifting to meet mine.

It takes my addled brain a second to remember who the hell Puck is—the new guy, playing the part of his namesake in our musical rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“You needed me?” Heather asks.

Why isn’t she yelling at me for being a disgusting pig?

“I do.” I meant it as a question, but it comes out as a plea, followed by a sigh. “Fuck.”

She gives me a tentative smile. “I never took you for the adventurous type.”

“Adventurous? I’m not—”

She lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head towards the window.

“This isn’t what it looks like. I mean, it’s not normal behavior for me. I’ve just been so fucking hard. And then you came on stage looking like that.” I wave a hand up and down, indicating the renaissance costume she’s wearing that makes her tits look fucking gorgeous. “Then Katie didn’t turn off her mic, and she’s backstage having sex with her boyfriend and—”

Heather presses a finger to my lips, bending over, so she’s right in my face, tits spilling out of her tight corset. She scrapes her teeth across her bottom lip. “Let me hear.”

That’s not what I expected her to say. It’s so far from what I expected, I don’t know how to respond or what to do. “Isn’t that… wouldn’t it be an invasion of privacy?”

She raises one eyebrow in a look that holds rebuke, but not judgement. A look that says, ‘ Really? ’ Then her gaze flicks down to my cock.

Which is still out! Fuck, why am I still just sitting here holding my dick in my hand? I try to shove it back in my pants, which physically hurts cause I’m so hard, but Heather stops me again. This time with her hand on my wrist. So damn close.

My breath stutters and freezes in my chest.

“The way I see it,” she says, “if she’s wearing a mic, anything she says is fair game for anyone to hear.” Her fingers slowly move down my wrist, over the back of my hand. “And… um…” She pauses. “I like your… cock. I’ve never seen one before.”

The confession is so tentative and shocking that I want to give her a confession of my own. “I’ve never had sex before, either.”