My lastest finished story is called "Dressing a Diva" and is inspired by my time in NYC. I orignally wrote it for a fashion story contest, but it really didn't end up working for that topic. Hope you guys like it!
This story contains sexually explicit scenes! If you are offended by FF sex stop reading now!
Dressing a Diva (FF)
Copyright © 2006 by Crystal Barela
“She’s late.” Christina was not one to wait around for ego inflated divas. Even if she was Tatiana Marci.
“Please Ms. Reynolds,” the producer said, on his feet and clutching at my arm as I loaded my sewing box. “I am sure she will be here any moment. Ms. Marci is a very important…”
“Save it, Dillon,” Christina said. “I have designed and fit more than one hundred costumes for this production and every one of the other actors has managed to show up for fittings.” She shrugged the strap of her sewing box over her shoulder and pulled her tweed newsboy cap low over her eyes. “There are only two weeks until opening night and she has more than a dozen costume changes.”
“Yes, but…”
“No amount of talent is worth dealing with this bullshit.” Christina hadn’t slept in more than three days. The glasses perched on her nose couldn’t disguise her red rimmed eyes or the slump of her shoulders.
“Please her assistant said…”
“Tell her assistant that Ms. Marci better get down on her knees if she wants me to finish her costumes.” Christina walked out of the fitting room and down the dark hall backstage, pulling on her gloves as she went. She’d never even met Tatiana, and quite frankly, after the past eight weeks of pre-production, she had no desire to. (Continued in Comments)
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(continued from blog entry)
Every last ounce of admiration for that angel’s voice had evaporated after months of fittings and sewing without her showing up. Apparently, everything but looking fabulous on stage was important to Ms. Marci. Christina tightened her scarf around her neck and she picked up her pace.
Time Square was busy, the theater crowd having just been wowed by Broadway’s stage talent. The billboards stared down at her selling underwear and booze, while taxi’s whizzed by, splashing slush on her boots. Still, in the bitter cold, card tables decorated the corners selling “I Love NY” t-shirts and socks by the dozen. Christina was stopped half a dozen times by guys selling Rolex knock-offs, pirated DVDs, Rayban sunglasses, Yves St. Laurent bags, and designer perfumes.
Christina only lived three blocks from the theater district, in a forth floor walk up. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looked up at the steps with a sigh, and began to climb. This was getting old, real old and she just did not feel like putting up with this anymore. The stairs, the stage, the pace. Go, go, go!
It’s true what they say, with success comes a fucking headache. Christina took the last few stairs, rounded the corner, when someone stepped from the shadows of the hall.
“Mr. Dillon, said you’d be here.”
“Christ! Fuck!” Christina said, stumbling against the stair rail.
There she was, the stage diva herself--dressed entirely in white. The woman was definitely mad. White and New York winters did not go well together.
“What do you want?” Christina walked past her and put her key in the lock.
“My fitting.”
Christina snorted and shouldered her way through the door, attempting to shut it behind her, but Ms. Marci wedged her Gucci clutch purse in the door jam.
“The fitting was an hour ago.”
“I was tied up…”
“And held for ransom?”
Tatiana’s mouth hung open.
“Because that is the only way I’m going to work with you on this project.”
“Miss Reynolds, you are being…”
“A tired annoyed bitch?” She tossed her sewing box onto the small red loveseat in the living room and pulled off her hat.
“But there are only two weeks…”
“You should have thought of that before you wasted hours of my time.” Christina threw her coat on the couch and then bent over to remove her wet boots. “We have made more than a dozen appointments, all to your specifications, and you have not managed to show up for one of them.” She stood and unzipped her jeans. “Nor have you felt in necessary to call and reschedule after numerous phone calls.”
“I’ve been…”
“Yeah, busy…I get it.” Christina pulled her turtleneck over her head. “I’m busy too and you don’t give a fuck.”
“Christina…”
“You know the way out.” Christina turned and walked down the hall, shimmying out of her jeans as she went.
“You can’t do this!” Tatiana cried, her voice muffled by the black turtleneck being pulled over Christina’s head. The actress grabbed Christina’s arm as she whipped the sweater across the space of her bedroom.
“Check my contract!” Christina said shrugging off her hand.
Tatiana was breathing heavy, the stole hugging her shoulders sliding to one side. Her eyes were ice blue and staring. The expression on the actresses face would have been exciting under different circumstances.
Lust. The bloom of color in the actresse’s cheeks, the swipe of her tongue on her full pout.
Christina laughed, looking down at her non-existent breasts, long john covered legs and wool toe socks. She removed the scrunchy from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders in a cascade of rich chocolate.
The actress removed her stole and began to undo the line of tiny pearl buttons running down the front of her shirt, revealing a white lace camisole.
“I promise to make it worth your while,” Tatiana breathed.
Confident. Beautiful.
The actress took the two steps separating them, close enough for Christina to smell White Diamonds on the other woman’s skin and the cocktail on her breath.
“Fuck off!” Christina turned and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
***
When Christina walked into the theatre dressing room the next day she was greeted by the largest bouquet of red roses she had ever seen.
“Who’d you fuck?” her assistant Jackie asked, accompanied by the whiz of the sewing machine.
“As if I have time for a sex life,” Christina said, setting her sewing kit on the vanity table and searching for the card amongst the dozens of blooms. She loved flowers. Even when she had been broke she would manage to scrape together enough money to purchase a bouquet once a week.
Beauty before food had been her motto in college.
“I’d be your fuck buddy if you let me,” Jackie said, batting her eyes. She came up behind Christina and wrapped her arms around the costumer’s waist. “That’s my favorite kind of sex.”
Jackie’s hands slid up Christina’s rib cage and gave her breasts a soft massage.
“Hmmmm, and you could teach me a thing or two.” Christina said her nipples hardening into tight little knots as she pulled the card from the envelope.
“It’s the least I could do,” Jackie said, pushing aside Christina’s pony-tail to nibble on her neck. “After all you’ve taught me about sewing.”
“Fuck!”
“With pleasure,” Jackie said, one of her hands sliding down to the waistband of Christina’s pants.
“No,” Christina laughed pulling away. “The flowers are from Tatiana.” She took a seat at the vanity and put her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands. She could feel a head ache coming on.
“ ‘Let me make up for last night. Dinner at six. T.,’” Jackie read. “What happened last night?”
“I told the star of the show to fuck herself.”
Jackie snorted. “Let me guess. You have no measurements for me?”
“Just go with the numbers her manager gave us,” Christina said. “I’ve already made the patterns. Cut, sew, and we’ll pin her up as she heads out onto stage. Screw perfection!”
“You called?” Tatiana said from the doorway, her white ensemble replaced by an equally rich fire engine red faux fur and ass hugging slacks. Jean Paul Guatier had a hand in this look. Straight from the pages of the December issue of Vogue on newsstands now. “You had your chance last night, but I’m flexible Ms. Reynolds.” Tatiana winked. “Champagne and strawberries can be arranged.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Christina wanted to scream, to hit something.
“I’m here darling,” Tatina said removing her fur reveal a matching sheer blouse and no bra. She picked up a yellow measuring tape from the sewing table. “Measure me.”
“I’ll do that!” Jackie said taking the tape from the actress’s hand. “Why don’t you run down and get some coffee, Christina.”
***
The coffee burned its way down Christina’s throat and gurgled in her stomach. Christina chased the hot liquid with a couple of Tums. The frigid air whipped around the corner of the theater, but she refused to return to the dressing room. It was childish, she knew, but that damn woman was driving her mad. She took another strengthening sip.
“I really am sorry,” Tatiana said from behind Christina.
The brunette cursed and dropped her cup onto the pavement. “Will you stop fucking doing that!”
“You like that word don’t you?” Tatiana picked up the cup and walked to the corner, depositing in the waste basket. She would be short if it weren’t for her heels.
“Fits most situations.”
“Look, Christina,” Tatiana said, taking hold of the bill of Christina’s cap and lifting it so their eyes could meet. “Measurements are taken and I promise to be at the fitting Tuesday next.” She really was beautiful, her brows arching over her eyes like graceful wings above her sunglasses. “Please let me apologize with dinner.”
Christina shook her head. “I really have too much to do with the opening only…”
“You have to eat right?”
“Really, I…”
“Any place you want to go.” Tatiana took her lipstick from her clutch and applied the color without a mirror, the bottom lip blooming under the gloss.
“I don’t like to go out.”
“Well then, I’ll cook.”
“You cook?”
“Yes, darling. I can do more than act and sing.” She leaned in close, rubbing her hands together briskly. “Once upon a time, even I was just like anyone else.”
“Okay, why not.” Christina had to admit she was curious.
“Fabulous!” Tatiana said, the dimpled smile she was famous for climbing to her eyes.
A limo pulled up to the curb beside them. “I’ll have the car come round your place at 5:30 then?”
Tatiana hopped into the back seat and her driver shut the door behind her before Christina could answer.
Christina wondered if she had lost her mind. She hated the woman. But Christina was pretty sure she could hate and fuck at the same time.
***
Prior to this project, Christina had spent more than one occasion riding her vibrator with thoughts of Tatiana in her head and that was why she ran home to shower and dressed carefully for the evening. She was nothing if not practical.
The car arrived promptly at 5:30 and even with uptown rush hour traffic, she was deposited at the curb of Tatiana’s building within half an hour.
“Good evening Ms. Reynolds,” said the doorman with a tip of his rust colored top hat. “We were expecting you.” He opened the door with a gloved hand and Christina was led into a marble foyer and over to the elevator on the right. Once inside she saw that this car bypassed floors one through forty, taking the rider straight to the pent house. The cedar interior invaded her nostrils reminding her of her last visit home to northern California.
The reminder didn’t end here. When Tatiana opened the door to her condo Christina was shocked. Not just by the food spattered apron her hostess was wearing, but the condo. It was not what she had expected. Exposed wood beams stretched across the ceiling and rustic furniture, seemingly made for a cabin in the Cascades, was placed about the living room in casual invitation.
“You can close your mouth,” Tatiana said with a grin, pulling Christina’s immobile form into her home.
“Fuck. This is totally unexpected.”
“Usually is.”
“Where’s the chrome? The glass?” Christina asked, removing her coat. Her plans for a quick fuck evaporating.
“I was raised in Oregon and inherited my father’s taste in decorating,” Tatiana said, taking Christina’s jacket.
“And born with a name like Tatiana Marci?”
“Stage name, darling.”
They followed the aroma of food cooking to the kitchen. Tatiana walked through to a closet around the corner, while Christina went over to the stove and pulled back the range door.
“Hey!” Tatiana said, bumping Christina’s hip with her own. “No peeking!”
“Is that meatloaf?”
“My grandmother’s recipe.
Christina fought the urge to laugh. She would have sworn Tatiana was playing the role of down to earth temptress if it weren’t for the décor. The warm earth colors were as inviting as the home cooked aroma wafting from the oven. And nearly as enticing as the women behind the apron.
“Is wine alright?” Tatiana asked, pouring a glass of red before Christina could respond. “This is a favorite of mine. Bold and strong.” Their eyes met. “From a California vineyard I visited last summer.”
Christina brought the cup to her nose and sniffed. She really wasn’t a wine drinker and when she did imbibe the brew normally came from a box. The liquid was rich and flavorful.
Tatiana smiled. “I knew you would like it. ‘Screaming Eagle’ fits your personality.” She turned to the oven and pulled a large pot to the front burner.
“My personality?”
Tatiana added butter, milk and sour cream then went at it with the hand masher.
“Focused, to the point.”
Christina couldn’t disagree with that. “Potatoes too?”
“And green beans,” Tatiana said. “I’m no gourmet, darling. Just know what my mother taught me.”
“You say your parents live out West?”
“Portland. Dad’s a park ranger and mom runs a little flower shop.”
“How’d you end up in show business?” Christina asked taking a seat on one of the wooden stools butting up to the island at the center of the kitchen.
“We’re theatre people.”
The timer went off and Tataina bent to remove the meatloaf, denim hugging her ass in ways that had made teenage boys discover puberty. Christina shifted on her stool with an itch of her own.
“Mom and Dad love being on stage, so I caught the bug early.” Tatiana set the meatloaf on the island.
“I hate to be rude, but can we do this after?” Christina asked.
“What was that?”
“Eat. After.”
“After?”
“We fuck.”
Christina didn’t think she could have shocked the actress more. The look on Tatiana’s face was comical.
“Last night you were eager enough,” Christina said. “I just prefer to work up an appetite.”
Not waiting for an answer, Christina stood and walked in the direction she assumed the bedroom was in, kicking off her loafers as she went.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Tatiana said.
Christina turned to face the actress walking backward, her hand at the fly of her slacks. “I should hope not.”
Tatiana laughed as her guest backed into the hallway.
“Let me get that for you,” the actress said, catching up with Christina and pressing her against the wall. She breathed against Christina’s lips, her hand taking hold of the zipper and opening the fly in one deft motion. Long tapered fingers slid into the slit white cotton boxer briefs and tangled in the thick hair of the brunette’s muff.
“You’ve been anticipating your visit.” Tatiana brought her hand up to her lips and licked her wet fingers in slow motion.
“Not as much as you have,” Christina said watching her tongue play. “I could smell your cunt from the moment I walked through the door.”
“Nasty bitch!”
“On your knees!” Christina demanded and Tatiana dropped with a graceful sway. The cashmere sweater came over her head and landed next to the slacks at Christina’s feet. Tatiana’s glacier blue eyes peered up at Christina, wet and wanting.
“Say you’re sorry,” Christina whispered.
Tatiana’s hands found the elastic at her waist and pulled the cotton down over hips and thigh. Her face disappeared into Christina’s aching pussy, nose and lips butting against her hairy mound with passionate hunger. Tatiana’s shoulders widened Christina’s legs, a small sharp tongue circling her little hard-on with rapid strokes.
Christina’s clit was on over-drive and her hand twisted into the actress’s neat chignon, causing Tatiana’s hair to fall around her shoulders in a hypnotic wave. The silky strands rubbed her inner thighs as Tatiana ate her honey.
Down the hall Christina could see the kitchen, steam rising from the meatloaf sitting on the island. She could smell garlic and herbs, her own hot pussy and Tatiana’s begging to be fucked. The fresh flowers on the dining table mingled with her new lover’s perfume. The loud slurping sounds of Tatiana’s lips sucking her labia made her knees week. Her long aquiline nose pressing her clit made her moan.
“Apologize!”
And Tatiana’s tempo quickened, her fingers squeezing Christina’s inner thighs. Christina’s legs began to tremble and she pushed Tatiana away, pulling the other woman to her feet. Tatiana’s face was flushed, her lips and cheeks sticky.
Christina took her through first open door she found, and pushed the actress across the foot of the bed, her hand diving beneath the denim skirt and panties. She lay over Tatiana’s back, her fingers sliding into her wet cunt with a satisfied grunt.
The blonde was soft and needy, her ass pressing against her mound as Christina fucked her from behind. Christina sucked on her neck, feeling her own pussy tremble as the soft skin of Tatiana’s ass pulled at her short hairs, pushing them against her clit.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tatiana was gasping under her breath. Her pussy lips locked onto Christina’s fingers when she came, tossing Christina over the edge with her.
They lay in silence; a half undressed pile of skin and clothing, and caught their breath.
“Fuck,” Christina said, enjoying the slowing of her heart and the warmth of Tatiana’s body pressed beside her. The ceiling came into focus above them as Tatiana hooked her foot around the edge of the blanket that had slid toward the foot of the bed during their mad tumble into the room.
Tatiana brought her arm across Christina’s torso and settled her palm on her turgid nipple. She looked down at her with that dimpled smile and Christina felt something soften.
“You hungry yet?” Tatiana purred.
“For pussy or dinner?”
“Either.” Tatiana leaned over and pulled the other nipple into her mouth, her eyes never leaving Christina’s. She rolled the puckered flesh under her tongue and sucked it deep into her mouth, sending waves of desire swimming from nipple to Christina’s hot center.
“Dessert would be nice,” Christina said, rolling Tatiana onto her back.
“I made apple pie.”
“With your busy schedule?” Christina feathered kissed over the actress’s torso and crawled down her golden skinned body. Tatiana’s pussy was smooth, the skin wet with her juices, hot like a pie just from the oven. The spicy scent teased Christina’s nostrils as she breathed against the ripe flesh.
Tongue wide and flat, she licked from taint to clit in slow motion.
Tatiana cried out, her hands flying to Christina’s hair.
The blonde was sweet and tart, like a granny smith.
Another swipe of tongue and Christina’s hair was yanked. The pain shot straight to the costume designer’s cunt.
The folds of Tatiana’s pussy pulled Christina’s tongue close. Slow, languid drags of flesh on flesh. Christina slurped the tiny ball of desire between her lips and sucked. She nursed the excited nubbin until the heat of the actress’s thighs grabbed hold of her ears and her name was an echo in the room.
***
Before Christina left, she assembled a meatloaf sandwich to eat in the ride down the elevator. A new doorman was on duty, but he greeted her by name and hailed her a taxi.
This was fucked up. She was screwing a woman who she didn’t particularly like, but made phenomenal meatloaf. A woman whose face was plastered on billboards, but missed her family enough to make her home a reflection of her roots. Whose public image was the opposite of her private one. Christina was sure her fans would be shocked that their diva could eat pussy and eat it well.
The taxi stopped in front of the theatre and Christina got out, key at the ready as she approached the stage door. The hall was dark and silent as she made her way toward the dressing room. She was familiar with the route, easily walking around boxes and props until she was in her haven.
Christina flipped the switch and was embraced in the familiar cacophony of color. Bolts of fabric, racks of costumes, sewing machines and rolled patterns. She shrugged off her jacket.
It looked like Jackie had already cut the design for Tatiana’s formal number. She cursed, wishing she had noticed the true color of Tatiana’s eyes before tonight. The ice-blue shantung would be better than the green. The dress, in this color and with proper make-up, would have the audience in the back row catching a glimpse of Tatiana’s eyes.
The cutting table was cleared in moments and Christina laid out the fabric, smoothing it across the flat expanse. She pinned the pattern pieces to the material, time passing in slow motion as the familiar beat of sewing matched the cadence of her heart.
The sound of scissors cutting through fabric held a particular fondness for Christina, reminding her of the summer dresses and Halloween costumes of her childhood. Her mother had been a wonderful seamstress, and up until she was in junior high, had made most of her daughter’s clothes. Then Christina took over.
Soon the whirr of the sewing machine accompanied the sound of the fabric sliding beneath the needle. The dress came together in tandem with her yawns.
“You’re crazy.”
Chistina snapped awake, her neck stiff from sleeping on her arm scrunched up on a sofa too short for her body.
“Crazy.” Jackie was squatting beside Christina, her face inches away.
With a groan, Christina sat up, her hand trying to rub out the kinks. “What time is it?”
“Close to noon,” Jackie said taking a seat beside her on the couch. “As always, we’re the first one’s here.” Her assistant walked over to the gown hanging on Tatiana’s rack and examined it closely, taking in the fine stitching. “Good date I take it?”
An experimental sniff had Chistina smiling.
Meatloaf and a slice of pie.
Wow...um...ya, wow...interesting choice of last names...and situations. My mind is correlating scenarios...
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