Loosely based on characters and themes from "The Butterfly Garden" written by Dot Hutchenson.
Heavy Lemons and mature themes to follow.
I miss waking up to light streaming in the window. Nowadays it's to the sound of a dripping faucet or potentially someone walking in the hallway, if it was late enough in the morning. But usually, I would wake myself in my dreams. Because nowadays my dreams carry over from the stories in the day, and I just can't bare to watch it again.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and run my fingers through my hair. Rubbing my eye with the base of my hand, I glance over to the large envelope at the base of my door.
Another story.
I heaved a heavy sigh as I stood up off the bed and walked across my room to retrieve the character description. Who would I be today? A professor? A photographer? Maybe something more lifelike such as a bartender, or a musician. No, I get the more difficult roles.
I toss it onto the bed and pad into the single bathroom, stopping at the sink to glance in the mirror.
There's some scruff forming on my jaw line, probably should shave it. My hair is getting longer, and will most likely need a trim in a few days, but it could last a little longer. I sigh softly. Who am I? I've played so many characters it's hard to remember who I am anymore.
During my time here at The Stage, I have been stripped of my former self, my former life, and given a new one. I had every intention of remembering every last detail of my old self the first year that I was here. But the one day I went to revisit old memories, only to find them gone. Overwritten by the stories and characters I have played. I've changed a lot, that's all I know.
When I first came to The Stage, I was only 18. Three years later my name was erased, and now I can barely remember the faces of my past let alone their names. Whatever I can remember is altered by pieces from The Stage: my mother and father don't call me by my birth name in my dreams or memories; they call me Apollo.
I scooped a handful of water from the basin and splashed it into my face. I glanced back at the envelope awaiting me on my bed. Not in any hurry, I trudge back to my bed in the corner of my room and sit down on the foot of it, taking the envelope in my hand. I unwrap the string at the top, and dump out its contents: a character description and a scene synopsis.
PERFORMER: APOLLO
LOCATION: STAGE A
TIME: 13:00
CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: REVOLUTIONARY WAR HERO RETURNING HOME AFTER THOUGHT DEAD IN FINAL BATTLE AGAINST THE BRITISH...
After reading the first line I groan and roll my eyes. Seriously? This is what kind of roles I get after three years? This kind of shit should go to Ares, he'd play the war hero just right.
I toss the packet aside, intending to read it for later. I'm turning 22 soon. I don't know when because I don't know what day of what month it is, but from what I gathered after talking to Eros I'm pretty sure it's soon. Grabbing a white shirt from my dresser and pulling it over my head, I head to the door to find Eros- who is probably already bragging about his role in the courtyard.
If there's one thing The Stage has, it's space. TONS of space. There's a courtyard for leisure activities, there's a workout room but only includes a stationary bike, a treadmill, and jump ropes, a cafeteria-like area that we call the break room, and lastly there's the letter rooms, which we call the actual Stage. And in those rooms, is where the stories happen.
I found Eros in the courtyard, just as predicted, bragging to Ares about his assignment for the day.
"Of course you haven't been a Pastry Chef, man! Because I'm the only one smooth enough to pull it off!" Eros smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ares's face read something along the lines of not-amused and not-caring. "And who says I would want to be? Icing and sugar makes the whole thing too sticky," his face twisted. Ares was large, must have been a lineman in high school. His jaw was squared and his upper body was wider than his lower body. He had to be around six feet tall.
"Not if you know the right way to use it!" Eros ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Eros was smaller than us, but he was filled out for his size. His skin was a mocha color, like a light chocolate, and his eyes were a shade darker.
"Are you done yet?" I raised an eyebrow as I walked up to them. "Will you save it for your story, man? You don't need to convince us."
"Well sorry if I actually get excited about my roles from time to time," Eros said in a huff. "Anything good lined up today?"
Pastry Chef already sounds more interesting than Civil War Hero, so I wasn't about to go bragging about mine anytime soon. "Uhh, haven't read mine yet. Ares?"
His face expressionless, he shrugged. "Sailor, leaving for sea the next day."
"That's not too bad," I admit. Why couldn't I get roles like that? Easy to play, no baggage or thinking attached?
"What time is yours?" Eros asked Ares.
"Later this evening, 6, I think."
"Saving mine for last!" He chuckled.
And mine was first up. Story sets usually began around lunchtime and ran until 8 or 9 in the evening, depending on how she arranged them. Some days we had off, which was a nice refresher. But usually that would be because we had a demanding role or day ahead of us the next day.
Checking the clock on the wall near the hallway entrance, I realized it was already 11:30. I still needed to eat, finish reading the damn description, and get character pieces before 1:00.
"Hey, I have to go, save me a seat at the break room later will ya?" I nodded towards Eros as I backed away. He nodded at me and continued his conversation about icing and all the right places.
Carrying my description packet with me, I padded down the hallway until I reached the first stage door marked with a large letter A on it. I opened the door and turned right into the male dressing room. On the counter sat my costume for the evening: a white period shirt, a vest, white stockings, shoes, and navy capris. Very...traditional.
I slipped into my costume knowing very well it was going to end up on the floor anyway. To me the costumes and props provided for us were all pointless. They were merely distractions to the end goal of the stories. They didn't provide any function to us except of sometimes getting in the way or making us feel more stupid than we already did.
I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time. At least there wasn't a fucking powdered wig.
Depending on who the actress in the room with you was, you would start your scene right away. Other times, there was the awkward hesitation of 'do I know you?' and 'when do we start?' or the 'do you wanna go first?' Personally, I would rather just get into it. Delaying it will only make it worse, at least in my mind.
I walked up to the door titled STAGE ENTRANCE, and paused. I listened to the other side to hear if there was anything; music, background noise, a person. But after hearing simple silence, I figured it was as good of a time as any to just push on through.
I must have startled her because she jumped slightly, turning around to face me. Either that, or she was playing her role.
Aphrodite stood facing me in a blue period dress, her long, red hair in a braid, and her hands on her chest in surprise- partial I think for her role, also I think from me genuinely spooking her with my entrance. Her dress revealed the tops of her breasts, which was both accurate for the costume but also in preparation for the story, and her plump lips had a glisten to them.
"You, you were dead," she said softly. She was already in character- thank god.
I took a second to glance around, noticing that the green light above the one-way glass was on, instructing us to move on with our story. The stage was set as a one-room cabin, with a small bed in one corner, a two-person dining room table in the middle of the room, and what appeared to be a fake fire with fake cooking utensils over it in the other corner. There was a hand-made rug on the floor, with fresh wildflowers in a pot on the table.
"I know." I murmured back.
"I, I thought you were dead," she whispered, taking a step towards me.
"I couldn't risk it," I said, meeting her in the middle and putting my hands on her shoulders. "If I had tried to send a letter to you, they would have recovered it and discovered my location. I'm sorry," I placed a hand on her cheek. I was pulling every memory I could from watching The Patriot.
"I didn't know what I was to do without you," Aphrodite said, pulling her braid to the front, running her fingers down its strands. "All alone, with no children, no family-" Leave it to Aphrodite to get right to it.
"You want children?" I put my fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to look at me.
She pretended to blush and pull away from me, running her fingers through her braid again. "I knew you did. I had hoped that while you were gone..." she trailed off. Either trying to play up the drama or because she was unable to finish the line. I'm not sure which. "But nothing happened. I wanted so much to have your child so that even if you were gone, I still would have a piece of you." She turned back to me. Good save.
I brushed the loose hair out of her face. "It's not too late," I raise an eyebrow softly. I keep my hand on the side of her face as I lean down to pull her lips onto mine. I can taste the lip gloss on her, it's sweet and fruity, strawberry maybe. She bites down on my lower lip softly, making my heart flip in my chest.
Aphrodite is probably the most attractive woman in The Stage. Frankly it's always a nice surprise to see her on stage because it won't be as much acting. She is very plump in the right places, but very slender in others. Her skin is soft like a peach, and always smells of honey. She has accepted her life in The Stage, and almost thrives in it, because she knows she is the most attractive and most desired.
I wrap my arms around her waist and while keeping my lips against hers, hoist her up onto my hips. I feel her legs wrap around my waist as I set her down on the table top, my hands moving from her lower half to cup her face.
She takes off my vest and discards it on the ground, while undoing the lacing at the top of my shirt. Once she undoes the small knot she pulls the white shirt over my head and smiles softly. She traces my collarbone with kisses, her nose brushing the base of my neck as she moves to the other side. I let out a soft groan, feeling the blood pooling to the front of my body.
She comes back to the base of my throat, kissing her way down the center of my chest to the top of my stomach causing goosebumps to form on my skin. I feel pressure on my waist beginning to form. I wrap my hands around her back, feeling my way. What the fuck is that? A ribbon? A rope? How am I supposed to undo a fucking corset? Impatiently, I pull her up from the table and turn her around to face the one-way mirror so she can watch. I wrap my hands around her front as I press myself against her back. Her eyes move up and down the two of us in the glass.
I glance down at the mess of knots and ribbon between us. Uncaring, I take the knot in my hands and rip it until the ribbon gives way, making a snapping sound that makes her mouth pop into an O. I pull the ribbon out from her dress, and slide the garment to the floor.
I stand back up and press her against me again. Her naked top half is warm against my cool torso, I run my hands over her smooth belly before gliding them up to cup her breasts. She lets out a moan as she tilts her head back against my shoulder.
"Come here, Love," I whisper and swoop her up into my arms, leaving the dress and broken ribbon on the floor.
I walk over to the bed, our mouths locked on each others. Gently laying her down on the edge of the bed, I get on my knees in front of her. She cups my head in her hands and runs her fingers through my hair. I can now feel a steady pulsing in my pants, pushing against the fabric. My hands find her breasts once again, and cups them as I take one of her nipples in my mouth.
She lets out a steady stream of moans, her legs parting to let me slide closer to her. I softly push her onto her back as I lower my head down to kiss her lower stomach. My hands find her thighs as I feel her hips bucking up to meet my kisses. I glance up at the light above the glass: still green.
Finally, I plant a kiss at the top of her panties, releasing another moan from her lips. Thankfully, Aphrodite isn't much of a talker once you get into it. She leaves the lines and fancy talk for the before and after if necessary. I kiss the waistband of her panties again, and her hips buck softly. I smirk, she seems to be enjoying herself.
I softly kiss once on top of her panties, above the warm spot. She shivers softly and makes a whimpering noise that triggers the bulge that has formed in my pants. I kiss it again, a little harder this time, feeling the warmth and the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. Impatiently I grab either side of her waistband and tug them down to her ankles, tossing them onto the floor. Aphrodite whimpers again, and I kiss her clit softly in response.
I glanced up at the light again: still green. Sometimes, if the play is all one-sided, it will turn to Yellow as a warning to even the field. But thus far, it seems to be working out all right. I use my hands to push her legs apart softly, and kiss her clit again, sucking it lightly. Aphrodite squirms a little, whimpering. Dammit that whimper.
I stand up on my knees to unbuckle my pants, sliding them down to my knees and releasing my member. I take her legs in my hands again, pushing them up slightly. This time, I circle her clit with my tongue before gliding it between her folds. She moans loudly at this and bucks her hips against me. I look up to her face, seeing that she has taken her breasts in her own hands. I smirk and use my thumbs to pull back her lips, revealing her center to me. I trace her clit again, slower this time, and plunge my tongue into her.
The same time I hear her moan loudly in response to my tongue, I hear the chirp of the light turning from green to yellow. She hears it too, and turns to see the light above the glass. Aphrodite blushes and looks down at me.
"Come here, Love," she mocks me, patting the bed.
I can't help but chuckle lightly, using my own lines, what a cop-out. I sit on the edge of the bed, kicking my pants off my ankles. We both look down at the white stockings up to my knees and exchange a "what the hell are those," look. She grins knowingly and slides them off for me before pressing against my chest softly, insisting I lay down on the bed.
Aphrodite is good: she is slow, thorough, and knows her way around. The second she wrapped her soft, delicate fingers around my member I melted into her hand. She could do whatever she wanted to me, and it would be good. I tilted my eyes over to see the light, which had changed back to green again.
She surprised me when she realized I wasn't paying attention, and took my member in her mouth. I sucked in a mouthful of air and let it out in a moan as she slid her tongue up and down its length. This was the easy part, I suppose. The part where as Eros described as "just lay there and bask in the glory." She continued a variation of these things as I closed my eyes. I let out a sigh that turned into a moan as I felt the back of her throat hit the tip of my member.
She stood up from the foot of the bed and hovered over me, kissing my hips and lower abdomen. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling her soft lips touch my waist. Her hands glided up my sides, my ribs, my chest until they wrapped around the sides of my face until she followed with her lips. I felt her hips press against mine: forcing her warmth down against my firm member.
I groaned into her mouth and snatched her lower lip with my teeth. I sat up, cradling her in my lap. My arms wrapped around her body as I guided her legs around my waist. I stood up off the bed, keeping her against my body as I turned her around to lay her back down again.
I walked back to my pile of clothes on the floor and dug into the vest pockets to find a tiny foil envelope. As Aphrodite scooted back onto the bed, I glanced over at the one-way glass on the wall: the green light shining back at me.