I smiled to myself. That brief, burning glance reminded me all too clearly why I wore high heels - now and then, at least.
The theatre was packed but, thanks to his position as composer and star, Joe had wangled us spectacular, centre-front seats. I could have kicked my shoes into the orchestra pit - though I doubted the musicians would have appreciated the contribution.
A mix of old and young students, the orchestra went about their business with an air of brisk competence. ‘I know what I'm doing,' said their studious expressions as they arranged Joe's music on their stands.
I remembered how college could seem like the centre of the universe. Their seriousness amused me, but I was glad for Joe's sake. His score would get a fair hearing with these sober players and this big, acoustically sophisticated stage.
We hadn't been seated long when the lights flashed three times, then dimmed. Excitement rippled through me. Sean fumbled for my hand. People coughed in the darkness and rustled their programmes. Sean's fingers tightened on mine. The conductor - a shaggy, longhaired beanpole in a dinner jacket - lifted his arms. I forgot to breathe until they fell.
The orchestra launched into Joe's overture as if they had played it all their lives. I closed my eyes as the familiar strains washed over me, tart and sweet and intricate. Up until now, I'd only heard this music on a second-hand upright. How different it sounded wound together with the strings and the winds and the light poom-poom-poom of the percussion.
I'll remember this, I promised myself, no matter who fluffs their lines or trips over the stage curtain. I'llJ remember this moment when everything came together perfectly.
As it happened, no one fluffed their lines - not so the audience could tell, anyway. They were too busy drying tears of laughter.
Captain Blood told the tale of a vampire-pirate and the delectable young innocent who stowed away on his ship, tempting him to break his vow to drink no virgin blood. To my surprise, the play was hilarious, a melodrama pushed firmly over the edge into farce. The student actors played it straight as stone but that only made the awful dialogue funnier.
I hoped the writer didn't mind. I suspected he hadn't meant to be so comical.
The actors, on the other hand, knew exactly what reaction to expect - Joe especially. I shouldn't have been surprised, considering the role-playing he'd done for me, but the way he could milk a laugh with a tiny bit of business amazed me.
He looked at home onstage. He moved without self-consciousness. He spoke as if the words had come to him that very moment. He had presence. Whenever he appeared, he riveted all eyes to him and him alone. The curl of his lip got noticed, or a brief contraction of his fist. The other actors might not have existed. When he sang, women leant forward in their seats and pressed their hands to their throats.
'Good lord,’ murmured the diamond-spangled woman
next to me. 'Rod Stewart meets Pavarotti.'
'Hush,' scolded her bosomy partner. ‘I want to hear.'
During the climactic scene, in which Captain Blood
succumbs to his darker nature and brings the heroine across, Joe stripped off his pirate shirt and clasped the buxom ingenue to his breast. As he bent her tango-style over his arm, the muscles of his back rippled under the stage lights. A collective sigh issued from the female members of the audience, and a few of the males, too.
More than a little susceptible himself, Sean transferred my hand to his inner thigh, near his knee. His overcoat draped his lap, sheltering a pocket of warmth. My sex throbbed with longing. I wanted to measure his strong, swollen cock. I wanted to squeeze it through all that well-pressed wool while Joe seduced the girl onstage, while the audience squirmed in its seats and wished that they, too, had someone hot to hold.
Divining my desire, or perhaps just obeying his, Sean nudged my hand upward as Joe and the heroine plunged into a passionate duet.
'Don't make me take you,' Joe begged in fine operatic style.
Sean moulded my hand to his gargantuan bulge.
'Make me yours forever,' the heroine trilled back.
Oh, yes, I thought, and began massaging Sean's cock in time to the music. He pressed me closer, but not hard enough to make him come. Though no one paid us any heed, we didn't want to get caught doing something that might embarrass our pride and joy.
Up on stage, Joe sank his teeth into the heroine's neck and swore her blood was sweet as honey and ripe as spring. The longer he sang, the harder Sean got. The harder Sean got, the wetter I grew. The heroine warbled in orgasmic bliss, but down in the stalls I wondered how much more I could take.
The song ended just as I was sure a single touch would bring me off. Sean lifted my hand from him, his palm as damp as mine. He pressed a kiss on to the back of my knuckles and bent close enough to whisper in my ear.
'I'm going to fuck you both silly when we get home.'
I tossed my curls, feigning a coolness I did not feel. 'Promises, promises.'