Opera Comique
Oliver takes your hand as he helps you up the stairs toward your stage side, second story balcony in Paris' Opera Comique. You know that you look nice with your hair piled high and a honey of a "basic black dress"; strapless, curve-hugging, long slit up the side. It is part of your job to assess your environment and be able to fit into that situation without calling undo attention to yourself. This environment called for elegant and so you were able to suit but it took make-up to brighten the darkness under your eyes. The truth is, you are dog tired. Oliver is as well. Only you, familiar with every pore on his body, would notice the slight weariness in the stunning green eyes before you.
Your current assignment has dragged on for almost two months now, chasing ghosts and fragments of information all across Europe. You were supposed to make contact with the liaison from your employers in the lobby an hour ago. It's an important contact as your employers were to tell you if you could go home or continue to pursue this futile mission. The liaison never showed. The second window of opportunity for the meeting will be after the performance so, haggard as you both are, you enter your box and shut the door behind you.
Oliver sits. You sit beside him and as his arm comes behind you, you snuggle closer and lay your head on his shoulder.
"Don't you fall asleep on me now Love."
"Why? I don't even like the Opera."
"Illiterate Yank," he grins down on you.
"Uppity Brit," you smile back.
The lights dim and you hear the orchestra begin. You and Oliver have not taken your eyes off of each other. You feel your heart start to race a bit as you realize that sleeping is not the only thing the two of you have not had time for in far too long. His breathing has sped up as well. He brings his hand up and very gently brushes your cheek. You lean into the touch and move your hand to cover his.
Oliver closes the distance between you and takes your mouth in a kiss. You loop your arms around his neck and kiss him back eagerly. He smiles against your mouth and you turn you head, nibbling across his cheek to his earlobe. "You're such a smug bastard," you whisper.
His hand, resting at the side of your breast, begins moving toward your back. "And you are far too easy." He nips at your neck eliciting a growl deep in your throat. "Quite the little tart really."
You gasp as he continues his kisses along your neck. "Only for you."
He smiles again. "In that case, I'm a very lucky man."
He releases your hair so that it falls loosely about your shoulders. When you feel him begin to lower the zipper in the back of your dress, you jump. "Oliver! We ca..." his continued kisses nearly make you forget your protest. You shake your head and start to push him away. "No, we can't! Somebody will see us."
He holds you tighter than ever and you hear him pull the zipper further. Soon you feel the theater's air conditioning on your bare back and you shiver. His warm hands glide over your skin for a moment more and then he pulls back. Your eyes are wide as you hold your dress to cover the front of you. His smile is charm personified.
Oliver slips out of his tuxedo jacket and rolls it into a bundle. He lays it on the floor of your box and then moves toward you again. He embraces you, kissing your cheek and pulling your dress away from your front. Gently, he lowers you to the floor, pillowing your head on his jacket. He kneels beside you on the floor as he removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt. He doesn't remove it completely but presses his bare chest against you. You groan in pleasure at one of your favorite sensations in the world. Your arms come around him and the kissing begins in earnest once more.
After a few moments, he rises again to stand on his knees. His hands move up the side of your legs and push the hem of your dress up to your waist. You see a grin play across his features as he unhooks your stockings from the garter belt you wear. Smiling, he takes one of your calves in his hand and raises it straight in the air. Placing a quick kiss on your leg, he lowers it again on the other side of his body.
His eyes on yours, he slowly unbuttons his pants and starts to lower his zipper. Impatiently, you sit up, pulling him into a kiss as you tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. Oliver smiles and leans forward, lowering you to the floor once again without breaking the kiss. Your arms slip around him under his shirt, holding him closer as he guides his erection to your opening and pushes forward. You bite back a moan and turn your head from his.
Oliver's mouth moves to your breast as he increases the rhythm of his thrusts. Your head moves restlessly from side to side as the pleasure he causes builds within you. Soon, it is becoming too much. "Oliver...Oliver you've got to st...stop. I can't keep...I'm gonna...OH!" You shout as your climax overtakes you. Pleasure and panic are warring within you as you are certain everyone in the theater must have heard you. And if they didn't hear you, they are most certainly hearing Oliver, who is currently being very vocal in his release as well. When your heart resumes a normal beat again, you listen and realize the performers on stage are hitting notes that would have easily drowned the both of you out.
He whispers in your ear. "This opera is three hours long and I know it very very well. If we time things right, this could be a terribly memorable evening."
You blush and then smile. "God I love the opera." You pull him to you in a passionate kiss.
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| The character of Oliver Sampson and the show VR.5 were created by John Sacret Young and are © Samoset Productions and Rysher Entertainment. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |