The Man on Stage
The first time I saw Edward Cullen, he was onstage, dressed in a historical costume.
He was an actor in a play, a local musical. My daughter, Bree, and I were theater enthusiasts, and our community theater produced professional-quality shows. We had season tickets, and we never missed a performance.
He had a nice voice, in both speaking and singing, and he was interesting to watch. He drew my attention more than any of the others, but nothing really out of the ordinary... just a mild, passing interest.
After the play was over, the cast gathered in the lobby, as they always did, to greet the audience as they walked out, but that night, they were doing something a little different - a somewhat formal question-and-answer session in a room off of the lobby. I grabbed my daughter, and we sat promptly on the front row.
I was interested to hear what everyone had to say, their motivations, their choices, and I glanced up as each cast member walked in and took their spot at the front of the room, waiting for the program to start.
Then, he walked in.
He was dressed in his street clothes - costume, wig, makeup, and fake beard removed. He was wearing faded bootcut jeans, well-worn cowboy boots, and a T-shirt with a picture of his character on the front, stretched snugly across his broad, hard chest. The sleeves were tight, the muscles of his upper arms flexing and pulling against the fabric.
His eyes were large, and his face had a contradicting combination of hard, sharp angles and soft, smooth skin. His mouth was pursed in a perpetual look of surprise and mirth, soft-looking lips just slightly parted.
Well, fuck me.
I couldn't take my fucking eyes off of him. I sat up a little straighter in my chair, hoping my daughter hadn't noticed my interest. We were very close, and she knew all about my predilections. She would laugh at me good-naturedly, rolling her eyes. It never really bothered her that I liked younger men or that I lusted after some of her friends. Since her father left us when she was a baby, she was completely supportive of me and just wanted me to be happy, to have a full life.
I watched how he moved, what he looked like when he talked. When someone asked him a question about the character he just played, his face lit up, animated and magnetic. But when the conversation shifted to another actor, he stood quietly, respectfully, completely interested and engrossed in what his cast members were saying.
He was beautiful.
I waited my turn, and at a quiet moment, I took my chance, lifting my hand to ask a question. It was all I could come up with at the moment, something about the musical's composer, but I wanted his undivided attention, even if it was just for a few seconds. While I spoke, he looked at me, really looked at me, and it took everything I had to tear my eyes away from him and spread my gaze around the room, to the other actors.
The director wrapped it up just a few questions later, and we stood up to mingle with other audience members. We were always the last ones to leave.
My daughter was just outside, talking with a group of friends, so I walked out to meet her, standing right beside her and inserting myself into the conversation. All of her friends knew me, and they all loved me. They thought I was cool and interesting, and they included me as an equal. I laughed easily with them.
My laugh caught in my throat as he suddenly walked up and joined the group, telling people hello, making comments that suggested he knew them well.
When his eyes finally landed on me, it was obvious that he didn't know who I was, the only unknown in the group. It stopped him for a second, like he was surprised to see a new face. His mouth pursed in that surprised look again, soft lips, slightly parted, eyebrows raised.
"Well, hello there," he said smoothly, deeply, extending his hand to me. His voice was like melted butter. "Now... who are you?" he said with a slight cock of his head and a hint of a smile. I gave him my hand and stared at him.
Jesus, I thought my knees might give out.
Glad to be back. Hope you're glad to see me as well. ;)
This story will be short chapters (2-4 pages), with daily (hopefully) updates. There is some plot, but there is also a LOT of fluff.
Thanks, as always, to my best friend and super-beta, LibbyLou862, who polices my spelling and grammar and punctuation, as well as discussing plot and logistics. The logistics conversations are by far my favorite. :)
All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)