CrazyAngel

The tour was good.* Clarrie and I managed to rent a small flat in the heart of Windsor, a stone?s throw from the Castle and the theatre. *The first few days we were doing the technical stuff that has to be boringly and painstakingly precise.* It?s nothing like rehearsing normally.* It?s stop, start, stop, start while the lights, sound, and all the other bits and pieces get checked out.* It is, however, a good test of how well we?ve learned the play.The first half of Missing in Action is the set up.* The scene, as for most of the performance, is the sitting room at my home.* I?m Mrs Geoffrey Glass, Lorraine, and I am enjoying tea, brought by my maid, Angela, with Barbara (Clarrie).* We?re sorting out the arrangements for my wedding to her brother, Lionel, who was my late husband?s best friend and best man.Lorraine - ?I still have the telegram.?* Rises, moves to a sideboard and opens a drawer, removes telegram.* Reads.* ??We regret to announce that your husband, Flt Lt Geoffrey Glass was lost in action and is missing, presumed dead.?* Twenty words.* I bet they had to limit the words to save money.?* Picks up picture frame.* ?I suppose I will have to hide this.?Barbara - ?Look, darling, if you?re still in love with Geoffrey, perhaps you should wait a bit longer before you re-marry.* I know Lionel will understand.?Lorraine - ?I?ve spoken to Lionel, he knows how I feel.* I think it would have been better had I been able to bury Geoff.* But, in my mind, he?s still, this.?* Tuns the photo so Barbara can see it.* ?No, I?m not going to be unkind to Lionel.* He?s been so kind, so patient, so understanding.* It?s just that it all seems so, well, final.?So the deal is I?m about to marry, in 1946, my dead husband?s best friend.* My husband was killed in 1940, two years after we were married.* He joined the RAF before we married and so, between our marriage and that telegram I?d spent so little time with him.* Of course, many many others went through the same.* England was a nation of mourning women.The costumes were drab, befitting the fact that rationing was still strict and everyone needed to make do, repair old, frayed clothes and everything else.The first performance went really well.* Clarrie and I went back to our flat after we?d had a late supper (I can never eat before a performance) and took a shower together.* There being no matinee the following day we didn?t need to rise early.* The shower developed, inevitably, into a lot of kissing and, at one point, your heroine (me) kneeling on the cubicle floor with my face pressed to Clarrie?s cunt.* That seemed to work!* Next thing I knew, she was almanbahis almost dragging me out of the shower and, after a perfunctory rub with a towel, two damp bodies rolled into bed to finalise the event.* My own orgasm was brought on by that tongue stud doing a tango over my clit while a slippery finger went up my bum.* Joy.We fucked a lot during that week in Windsor.* On one occasion, Clarrie nearly fell out of bed laughing.* I brought this hilarity on by leaving the curtains open, ?so the Queen can watch.?* Clarrie thought this was hilarious and it was at least five minutes before we could stop laughing enough to indulge our appetites.Our next theatre was in Bath and so we were able to use my flat which was nice.* It was doomed though.At one point in the first act, the room that was the principal set, had to turn through forty-five degrees and there was a turntable in the stage that effected that manoeuvre.* I was waiting in the wings when I heard a desperate cry and, looking out, saw that Clarrie had got her foot stuck and, it looked to me, like she was in agony.* The curtain was hastily dropped and a few of us dashed on to help her.* A theatre first aider took command and someone called an ambulance and the fire brigade in case special equipment was needed to free her.* Poor Clarrie.* I held her head in my lap while the professionals did their work and promised to go with her to the hospital.* Tommy Lancaster went out onto the stage skirt and spoke to the audience, explaining there? been a serious but non-fatal accident, assuring them we?d open the next day and promising refunds or replacement tickets if available.* The audience gave us a huge round of applause that we could hear and I am sure that heartened Clarrie.* That she?d have to leave the tour was inevitable.To my surprise, the Assistant Stage Manager (ASM), a youngster called Jenny Philpot had learned all Clarrie?s lines and, when it was clear Clarrie wasn?t going to be able to continue, she got her first ever acting spot.* Let me explain the ASM?s function.* They are the lowest of the low in the profession.* Often drama students looking to get a foothold on the rickety ladder, they do anything from cleaning, helping wardrobe or lighting, making coffee, calling the cast to stage, and generally being a dogsbody.* Some of them crack under the sheer tedium, others work through it and actually get to act.* I was one of that sort.* Such was Jenny.* About twenty-five, she was ok for the part and was good looking.* Not only that but she was good, actually very good.* She moved into my dressing room and we became good mates.* That almanbahis yeni giriş was it though.* Jenny was infuriatingly straight and so she did not understudy Clarrie?s off-stage role as my lover.* Such. as they say, is life.The remainder of the week was pretty good.* When I could I went to see Clarrie in hospital and, by way of a farewell treat at the end of the week, brought her to a quiet orgasm in her private room.* A nurse came in just as she?d stopped trembling and, whilst I reckon the nurse had a pretty good idea what had been happening, she gave a knowing smile and said she thought it better to take her temperature a bit later.The rest of the provincial tour was uneventful on far too many levels.* No, no, the play went well, was well received and every night when the ?big event? happened, there were intakes of breath and gasps of surprise.* But, knowing my readership here, you?ve already worked out what the ?big event? was.* Quite right.* As I am leaving my house, or rather, as Lorraine is leaving her house, in a pink wedding dress as befits a widow, to tie the nuptial knot with Lionel, accompanied by Barbara as my matron of honour, who should appear but the undead Geoffrey?* I know it was predictable, but trust me, Tommy Lancaster had directed it superbly and the audiences? surprise was palpable.* The second surprise is that Lorraine, having developed a genuine and passionate love for Lionel wasn?t best pleased to see her emaciated, slightly battle-scarred former/current husband.* The relationship with Lionel had been developed though the play including a rather risqué scene in which Lionel and Lorraine have a hasty, if discreetly veiled knee-trembler against the wall of the set.* During an early rehearsal the wall had given way leading to hysterics at the moment and dread in all subsequent performances that the bloody set might collapse again.* As it was it reminded upright, rather like Chris Penfold who played Lionel.* The first time we?d rehearsed the knee-trembler I?d had to suggest, somewhat acerbically, that Lionel might like to check his flies before getting my knee rammed into them.* He was a nice guy and got the message, so there were no further attempts upon my inner sanctum.The problem with a play like that is that the public begin to learn, through incontinent, spoiling critical reviews or social media etc, the outcome so we tried really hard to encourage critics and audiences not to reveal the denouement.* That said, the author suggested a re-write for the last act prior to the West End run and that, Geoffrey murdering Lionel in the final scene, caused almanbahis giriş a sensation that got the play rave reviews and yours truly a nomination for a BAFTA.By the end of the run in London, I was predictably knackered.* I went down to Somerset again and wallowed in relative inactivity, leavened by a flying visit by Maz Foster, long term friend with amazing benefits including that hand-technique I described earlier (Chapter One).* She stayed one night and by the time she left I could barely walk.* She fucked me on arrival, after supper, before bed, in the shower, in bed during the night and again in the morning and before she left, ?in case I was unsatisfied.? * Fat chance.I spent many an evening with Lilly who regaled me with her sexual conquests.* Such revelations might seem tedious from anyone else but Lilly had that wonderful gift of telling a tale with humour and exuberance.?A curate???Yes, darling,? said Lilly.* ?Now, I know I am not exactly churchy, but, well, he?s rather impressive as it happens.* I met him at the Connors? house during a party.* I took to him because he liked whisky as you know I do.* I invited him over to try a couple of my dear old former husband?s collection, five hundred ?investment bottles?, yet another benefit of my hugely profitable divorce, and discovered that the reverend Malcolm had a good nose and a formidable penis matched with an almost religious fervour to fill me with his holy spirit.* It didn?t last because it turned out he was evangelical with a few others, including the Bishop?s wife.* The Bishop didn?t take kindly to finding a cuckold?s horns on his mitre and Malcolm was despatched to darkest Lewisham,? (one of London?s poorer suburbs), ?to undertake missionary work among the dispossessed.??What about the vet???Well, thereby hangs a tale.* George, for such is his name, was not as, shall we say, enthusiastic, as Malcolm but, in his own way, rather satisfactory.* We were getting along famously until he asked me to marry him.* Once bitten and all that.* The whole idea of marriage makes me feel positively de-libidinated.??Is that a word???I?m sure it is now.* Anyway, darling, that was that I fear.* I still let him look after the labrador.?It was in the March of that year that I was once again summonsed to the Caterham agency by my agent.* On arrival, I spent a few minutes flirting with the delectable Rowan, her front of house operative.* Flick had, of course, specifically warned me off Rowan so naturally I had to make a point. *Elegant as ever, Flick stood in the doorway between Rowan?s reception area and Flick?s own office and said, ?I?ve told you two.* Millerton, leave my secretary alone.* Rowan, wipe that leer off your face and find a bottle of bubbles for me.* Three glasses as long as you sit at least six feet away from Millerton.?* She turned and knew I?d be on her heels.