the pearl

Greasepaint

Roxie soaked through her panties that first night on stage.

She had imagined that seeing her name in lights would be a turn-on, but she had no idea how much. One glance at the marquee, one glance at the crowds, and she was off, gasping and panting like the first night Fred put it in her.

When her hands were full of roses and the lights were shining behind her and the audience roared, her knees went weak and she shook, breathing heavily, biting her lip and holding it all in.

One more bow, one more kiss blown to the crowd, and Velma was pushing her offstage. The minute she felt the lights off her back, she leaned against the stage wall, her knees bending as she slumped, breathing heavily.

Velma leaned in, laughing, and Roxie felt her hip against hers and wrapped an arm around her waist and she did what only seemed natural.

Lipstick against lipstick, lips against lips and Velma was pressing her against the wall and there were hands sliding up under her dress, snapping that single blue rhinestone studded garter as they went higher and higher.

Velma laughed nastily in her ear as she rubbed right and sweet, over and over, and Roxie screwed her eyes tight. She saw her name in lights over and over and the lights sparked and exploded and she was groaning against Velma's mouth.

Velma laughed again as Roxie started to breathe again, great big gulps of air. Velma leaned forward, kissing her neck slowly, and they slowly realized where they were.

Billy walked past them, raising a single eyebrow. "Just don't try and kill each other, girls," he said. "I don't think I could get you both off..."

Velma smirked. "I think we have that taken care of..."

This Chicago story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.