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“I think I still have time to go to the bathroom before it starts.”
Preston watched his wife squirm and wiggle her way down the row of seats like a boar running the gauntlet. His wife did not get a high reading on his Natalie Wood scale. In fact, the meter no longer moved at all in her presence. Face it: she was too old, too tall, too big, too pushy. Yes, at McDonalds as well as everywhere else she had to have it her way.
So why had he married her while still in college? Did the fact that she had been his first sexual conquest and that he had shortly thereafter knocked her up have anything to do with it? Yet after their hasty marriage she had decided the time wasn’t right to have a kid, and shortly afterwards announced, “Hello? This is Houston. Sorry, but we must abort,” or some words to that effect. And they had remained childless.
A few minutes later his wife was back, and the show started, and it was, to say the least, obviously not headed toward Broadway. Where did they find so many prancing sugarplums to play the gang members of the Jets and Sharks? Are they supposed to be intimidating? Jesus, these sweethearts couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag even kicking high in their high heels.
But suddenly on stage at the dance, in walks Maria, and–oh, my God! She looks just like a young Natalie Wood! Where did they find her? Her face, her hair, her eyes, her petite size–unbelievable!
Preston and his wife didn’t own opera glasses, but he would always bring his high-powered hunting binoculars to shows to check out the show girls since they often had seats far in the back or balcony. But tonight they were only five rows from the stage, and he hadn’t bothered to take them out of the case.
By the time he had frantically fumbled with the case to get it open and managed to yank the binoculars out and get them focused on the Natalie Wood look-alike, the dainty actress was dancing in her white party dress, spinning, showing off her legs encased in white silky stockings, almost to the bottom of her panties, almost, but not quite, yet so close, so close . . . .
There! That last spin and–oh, my God! Jesus H. Christ! Innocent little Maria was wearing black garters! These girls usually wore flesh-colored leotards. But at the top of this girl’s thighs where the stockings ended, he could see a flash of thin, shiny red panties tightly stretched over her ass cheeks and drawn in tightly at the crotch. Was that darkened area pubic hair underneath–or just a shadow?
Who is this girl? He impatiently flipped through the program until he found it: Natalie Cox. She’s even named Natalie! Jesus, only a high school student? Unbelievable! She had been in several theatrical, choral, and dance productions at her high school and even appeared in a few community theater plays as a child, but this was her first big part outside of high school. Natalie Cox. What a name. Did Miss Cox like cocks?
Moments later on the balcony outside her apartment the young actress reappeared, now wearing a white nightgown as Tony sang “Maria” below. Unbelievable–the splitting image of a young Natalie Wood.
The binoculars were great. With them he could discern the smallest details. He was able to determine, for example, that her hair was real–no wig or fall pinned to her own. He could even see the tiny toothpick microphone sticking out of her hair that picked up her voice for amplification, something also invisible to the rest of the audience. Yes, she had doe-like brown eyes just like Natalie Wood. Wow, he could even see the wrinkles in her moist red lips. And her wet tongue. And one of her upper molars had a filling in it.
All right! He could see the outline of her garters and panties though the thin material of the lacy white nightgown. Jesus, she was still wearing them. He liked the way this sweet young thing dressed for bed. But didn’t she have time to take them off backstage? What kind of director would costume Maria in such provocative undergarments? Didn’t he know? And what kind of teenage actress would allow herself to be exhibited in such a way? And what would her parents think watching her, especially her father? Preston’s cock was an erect arrow on a weather vane. If he stood up now, the guilty staff would point unerringly at the winds of his desire!
Now Maria was squatting down on the balcony, pulling the hem of her nightgown up a little over her knees while singing back to Tony. Oh, my, she has such a sweet-sounding voice, too, and she’s so enchanting, so feminine, so tiny. Sweet Jesus, she’s opening her knees up just enough to see up her nightgown. Yes! There’s her red panty-covered teenage snatch again!
Preston lowered the binoculars and glanced at her for a second or two without them. Using only his naked eyes, he could see a shadow between her legs, nothing more. He peered again with the added magnification, and, yes, there they were, her black garters and sexy red panties. Oh, God, was that a few dark hairs peeking out at the crotch? Oh, my . . . .
Later in the show Maria started dancing on the rooftop in a sheer blue dress that flared out fully whenever she twirled–just like in the movie. Damn! This scene was added for the movie, something not in the original Broadway play. He’d never seen it done on stage anywhere. Preston was beginning to like this director, understand him even. The guy’s no dummy; that’s for sure.
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Oh, God, please. Will the little teenage vixen give us another sample of her sexy legs and panties? Is she still wearing