Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 1.  Crew Call

   The rotund, smiling man stood up and addressed the group in an
unexpected Irish accent.

   "Okay everyone, if I could just have your attention.  For anyone who
hasn't worked with me before, I'm Steve Thomas, and I'll be your director
this evening.  Over here is Amanda, our staff producer.  Doug here is
technical director.  Sam is our engineer.  And Phil over there is in charge
of audio for tonight, with Mark and Jake who you guys probably all know. 
And the young man with him is Peter Kerr, he's here for work experience
from his high school, and I suggest that you be nice to him, because I've
had a chat with him and he's pretty smart; he'll probably be standing here
doing my job in a year or two."

   Peter blushed as the entire crew turned to look at him.  He felt very
young, at eighteen, though a few of the production assistants were surely
only a year or two older than him.  Peter knew what he was doing, at least
in theory, and was fitter and stronger than many of them, but the crew had
an air of confidence and no-nonsense ability about them that was slightly
intimidating.

   "Cameras one through five are already set up at the stage.  That's
studio A.  Guys, you know what you're doing.  Six and seven will cover the
anchors out here in studio B.  Bill's on six and seven is locked off. 
That'll be set up, and the lights, when we're done here.  The foundation is
managing the volunteers on the phones; we don't have to worry about any of
that.  We'll have the phone number up throughout on the Inscriber."

   Peter listened vaguely as the director went through various points about
the play they were televising that night, a fundraiser for a national
charity.  There were so many different things to remember.  Luckily he
didn't have to worry about them all; he just had to do whatever
cable-running and mic-adjusting Phil, the terrifyingly proficient audio
chief, needed help with.

   "So a word about the actors; we're not working with professionals here,
but we do need to turn in a professional television event.  These are
skilled amateurs.  Most of them haven't been on live television before. 
But they have professional wardrobe.  They have professional makeup. 
They've hired a professional lighting crew, who we've been working with,
and they're excellent.  Some of these people want careers in the theatre.
This is their chance to shine on national television.  You can bet they're
taking this very seriously indeed.  We owe it to them to do not just a good
job, but the best possible job.  That means you.  Every single member of
this crew.  Every job is important.  Let's cut no corners.  Let's do it
right.  Thanks.  We have two hours.  Let's make it happen."

   There was a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation as the twenty
or so crew members streamed off in separate directions.  Peter followed
Phil and the other audio assistants, Jake and Mark, to the production
truck.

   "So, guys," Phil grinned.  "Costume drama.  You know what that means."

   "Concealed microphones?" asked Jake.

   "You got it," Phil replied, as Jake and Mark high-fived each other, "but
don't get too excited.  The female principles have mics and transmitters
sewn into their costumes.  I got fresh batteries put in this morning while
the costumes were in wardrobe.  We just have to make sure they still work
when they're put on.  There are a couple guys who need miked up though -
here's the list.  Just tape them to their chests.  I know how much you two
enjoy playing with hairy chests, since you don't have any body hair of your
own yet."

   Mark smiled and flipped him the bird.

   "So you guys get on with that.  Peter, grab this headset.  I want you to
go out to the stage and we'll get some levels on the omnis out there. 
Let's get going, time is short here."

   2.  Talent Spotting

   Peter felt rather proud of himself as he walked around the building and
through the corridors to the main theatre auditorium.  As he strode through
groups of musicians, stagehands, volunteers, and various hangers-on, he
noticed them taking in his "TV CREW" badge and headset, and respectfully
making way for him.  This was a feeling he could get used to.

   Inside the auditorium was a scene of chaos as last-minute preparations
were made by the theatrical crew.  Backdrops were being raised and lowered;
prop positions checked; last minute line changes being reviewed; and the
chorus was rehearsing one of their songs.  Some members of the invited
audience had already arrived and were taking their seats.

   Peter pressed his "talk" button.  "Phil, this is Peter, I'm there".

   The headset crackled, "Okay kid, just hang loose for a second, I'm
working on a little problem here."

   Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall, watching as a small group of
actors took the stage in full costume, scripts in hand, apparently having
decided to rehearse something just one last time.  The flowing dresses of
the female players certainly did nothing to hide the curves of their
bodies, and Peter found himself admiring the shapely behind of one
particular actress at some length.

   His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz in his ear.  "Peter, I need you
to check the number six omni.  Not getting anything from it."

   Peter walked up to the stage and swung his body onto it.  He made for
the offending mic, and checked the connection.  "Looks good Phil, it's
plugged in OK", he radioed.

   "Okay, can you go ahead and replace the mic and the cable to the snake,
we don't have time to muck around."

   As Peter worked he glanced up at the group of actors still rehearsing in
front of him.  The girl he'd been checking out from behind was just as
shapely from the front.  She was engrossed in her script, paying no
attention to the other activity going on around her.  Peter let his eye
linger on her exposed cleavage, then up to her face - where he realized
with a start that he knew this girl.

   Connie Clark.  Could it really be?  The girl from his chemistry class
last year.  The one he had lusted after from their first meeting.  The one
who was so intelligent and funny, and so effortlessly sexy.  The one, when
they were preparing experiments, who he was mentally undressing and
imagining naked; wondering what it would be like to feel her body; to suck
on her nipples.  The one who gave him such strange looks, as if she knew
the dirty secrets in his head.  But the one who had never given him any
encouragement.

   Nearly as tall as him, curvy without being fat, with dark hair, fair
skin, and green eyes, Connie had featured in the starring role in many of
his wet dreams.  Even confined in a school uniform, her body was
provocative and distracting, with pert breasts whose shape could not be
hidden by a uniform blouse.

   He had never known that she was an amateur actress; but yet here she
was, standing here in front of him in a dress which made her even more
sexually desirable than he remembered; she appeared as a radiant example of
pure, virginal Victorian womanhood, brimming with suppressed sexuality. 
Peter felt a stirring in his groin as he watched the exposed tops of her
breasts rising and falling with her breath.

   "Peter, is that mic back?"

   Peter was shocked back into reality.  "Yeah Phil, try it now," he
replied.  At the sound of his voice, all of the actors turned to glance at
him - and Connie recognized him with a smile.  He nodded at her, as Phil's
voice in his headset gave him another task.

   3.  The Show Must Go On

   "Thirty minutes to air, everyone" came the producers voice over the
speaker.  Peter was with Phil in the audio booth of the truck, watching as
the older man carried out his final microphone checks.

   "Okay, get Edward to give me a test, Jake," he ordered.

   "This is James Dobson and I'm playing Edward, testing one two three, one
two..."

   "...that's great, next one please Jake, Emily," Phil interrupted.

   "....onn..car...mly...n...oo..ree..."

   "Something's wrong there Jake, get her to check the connection to the
transmitter."

   "Uh, Phil, this is Jake, it's connected fine."

   "Okay Jake, get her to go to the red room, I'll send Mark to change her
out.  Mark?"

   There was no response but silence.

   "Hey Mark?"

   Nothing.

   "Okay kid, looks like he's out of radio range, and that means I've got a
job for you.  Go find this person who's playing Emily", Phil squinted at
his cast list, "Connie Clark is her name." You need to fit this lav mic. 
You know how to do that, right?"

   "Sure, I know how to put it on and check it's working," Peter responded,
"but where does it go?"

   Phil looked at him, puzzled.  "It has to be hidden, and it has to be in
the right place to pick up her voice.  This is the job Mark and Jake were
hoping for earlier.  You need to clip this on her bra, kid.  It's just part
of the job; most of these actresses have done it a thousand times.  Just be
confident and professional.  But here's the thing, you need to be
confident, professional, and really quick, because we're on air in like
twenty minutes." Phil turned back to his console.  "Okay Jake, next is
Darcy.  Let's give him a test..."

   Peter gaped.  Was he really going to see Connie stripped to her bra?  He
reddened.

   Phil turned to him, suprised that he was still there.  His expression
softened.  "Hey Peter, it's not a big deal.  Trust me, this is probably
some dried-up sixty year old.  She'll understand why you're there and she
won't bite.  You have your tool kit?  Good to go?  Okay?"

   "Okay, I guess," replied Peter, who knew that it was definitely not a
'dried-up sixty year old' that he was going to be working on.  But he
wasn't going to complain.

   4.  The Rubber and the Road

   "Hi Connie!" Phil said, as he walked into the so-called "red room",
deserted except for the costumed actress.

   "Hi Phil, how are you doing?" Connie responded with a smile, "I saw you
earlier."

   "Yeah, just helping out with the sound, I'm here on work experience."

   "Do you know when the lady is going to come and put a microphone on me?
We're getting really close to curtain."

   Peter avoided eye contact.  "Well, the thing is, we don't have any women
in the audio crew.  And the other guys are really busy, so, uhm...  they
sent me."

   "Oh, you're going to mic me up?  Okay.  It's just I thought it had to go
under the costume."

   "Yeah, uhm, this is a bit embarrassing, but yes, I'll need you to slip
it off for a second and I'll clip this mic on."

   Connie looked panicked.  "Is that the only way?  I'm sorry, I've never
done this kind of thing before."

   Peter was about to answer when the voice came in his headset - "ten
minutes to air, positions everyone" - and then a second later, "ten minutes
to curtain, everyone" shouted in the corridor outside.

   Connie was red faced.  She bit her lip.  "Okay.  Let's do it."

   She reached behind herself, unclipped some hooks, and started to pull
the dress up.  Peter had the mic in his fingers, ready to clip it on to her
bra quickly so she could get herself decent again without too much
embarrassment.  He couldn't help watching the shape of her breasts as the
fabric of the dress flowed over them.

   "How are you going to clip that on me?" Connie asked, slightly muffled,
as she worked the dress up over her body.

   "I'll just clip it on your bra," Peter replied, matter-of-factly, as
Connie finally pulled the dress over her head.  He stared in shock.

   "But I'm not wearing a bra," Connie said, quite unnecessarily.

   Her unexpected, shocking nakedness made Peter gasp.  He couldn't help
but stare wide-eyed, as she stood there in her underwear, at her exposed
grapefruit-sized breasts, each capped by a somehow soft and vulnerable
looking pink nipple.  For a moment he forgot to breathe.

   "Well?" Connie demanded, a trace of annoyance in her voice, but also,
perhaps, amusement.

   "No bra," Peter stammered.

   "No shit, sherlock," Connie giggled.  "Can you mic me up?"

   "I'll have to tape the mic to your chest, in between your..  uhm.. 
breasts," Peter offered.

   "Do you know how?  Have you done that before?"

   "Uhm, no.  Not really.  Not on a woman." Actually, not on a man either,
but he didn't feel like admitting that.

   "Well, I guess it'll be a learning experience for both of us.  Best do
it quickly."

   Peter knew the theory; he knew how to lay tape on the chest; and tape
the mic to that tape; and then build a protective layer of tape on top of
the mic to stop the costume rubbing on it, while still allowing free flow
of air to pick up the actor's voice.  He pulled the roll of surgical tape
from his toolbox, and tore a strip off.  He gently brought his hands up to
Connie's chest and placed the tape between her breasts.  Pushing it down he
was surprised to feel her trembling a little underneath his touch.

   Peter's own hand shook as he positioned the mic with one hand and
brought tape up to secure it with the other, a maneuver that placed his
wrists within a half-inch of her nipples.  He felt her gasp as he
accidentally brushed one of them with his hand while sticking down the
tape; by the time he was done he had "accidentally" brushed against her
nipples a dozen times and he felt them growing harder each time.  Her face
was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat over the skin of her breasts.

   Peter held the microphone lead and reached around behind her to tape it
there, his body close to hers, their eyes level.  She stared into his eyes
and deliberately shifted her body, pressing her breasts into his chest and
her groin into his.  Her eyes registered surprise at his hardness there. 
Then the lead was taped; Peter pulled back from her, and the moment was
over.

   "Five minutes to air, everyone."

   Peter cleared his throat.  His voice was hoarse.  "Could you just, test
it."

   "This is Connie Clark playing Emily, and I'm here with Peter and he's
just miked me up.  He did a really good job, he's a real pro.  Can you hear
me okay?"

   "Hey Peter, Phil, that's fine, good job there.  Can you get back to the
truck now?"

   "It's working.  I have to go," Phil told Connie, "Uhm, Listen..."

   "Sssh," Connie stopped him, her finger up to her lip.  She smiled. 
"Nothing to say.  Now go."

   5.  Fade to black

   "Back to network master in four...  three...  two...  one...  and we're
out.  Thank you everyone, that was beautiful."

   There is a real thrill in working on live television.  Peter felt it
now. The sense of accomplishment and of shared achievement was very real.

   "Great job guys," Phil told his audio crew.  "Everything came together,
even if it was a bit last-minute.  Where were you just before we went on
air Mark?  Couldn't get hold of you."

   "Uh, call of nature."

   "Okay, well make sure you let me know next time.  Because I couldn't get
you, Peter here had to do a concealed mic for one of the actresses." Phil
shot Peter a knowing grin.  "So was she an old hag, Peter, or a young
hottie?"

   Peter blushed.  "She was...  pretty nice.  Actually I know her from
school...  she was in one of my classes."

   "Way to go Peter!" exclaimed Jake.  "One night in live television and
you're getting all the perks of the job already!  Did you feel her up?"

   "Leave him alone Jake," grinned Mark.  "You're too old to be fantasizing
about schoolgirls in their bras."

   "Aw, now you're never too old for that," laughed Phil, "but it's
important to be professional about these things.  I'm sorry if it was
awkward for you Peter, especially with it being a classmate of yours.  Mark
can go remove it from her if you like."

   "No, that's okay!" interrupted Peter, "I'll do it!"

   "Caught you!" Phil exclaimed, and the others laughed, "The wardrobe
people will take it off and send them back to us.  But I appreciate your
enthusiasm!  Let's get started on packing everything up."

   6.  Tear down

   The last cable Peter had to pull in was the impossibly thick, heavy
multicore cable that had connected each of the mics on stage to the truck.
It didn't cooperate with things like corners and other objects so Peter had
to make a long series of journeys to and from the truck to get it past one
obstacle or another.  The theatre was almost empty, with only a few
low-ranking assistants like himself still around to finish the tear down.

   Sweaty and tired, Peter bent over the cable.

   "Hey, Peter," came a voice.  Peter recognized it at once.  He looked up.

   Connie was wearing her regular outfit of jeans and T-shirt.  "Can you
come talk?  It's important."

   "Sure, for a moment."

   Connie took Peter's hand and pulled him into the empty office she had
come from.  She looked up and down the corridor, closed the door firmly,
walked over to Peter, and without saying a word, bent down in front of him
and reached for his zipper.

   "Hey, wait."

   Connie flashed him a smiling glance then pulled the button of his pants
open.  Still without speaking, she quickly pulled his underwear down just
enough to let his now-hardening penis spring out.  Peter reacted with a
gasp of surprise, which turned into a groan of pleasure as she wrapped her
lips around his shaft and luxuriously licked his glans.  Peter had never
been the recipient of a blowjob before.

   Peter had no idea what was going on.  "I have to finish....  why are you
doing this?" he tried to say.

   Connie looked up at him, but made no reply except to pull more of his
penis into her mouth, and begin sucking with more intensity.

   Peter had already been in a highly sexed state from their earlier
encounter, and he knew he had no self-control now.

   "You're going to make me come.  I can't stop it.  I'm going to come."

   Again, no response, except for a clamping of her mouth around his shaft,
and yet further escalation of intensity.  Peter moaned at the rising
sensation of pressure and warmth and pleasure building inside him.

   Then it happened; unable to control himself, Peter ejaculated in wave
after wave of pleasure.  With each contraction of his muscles he felt a new
and unimaginably intense crescendo of ecstasy.  Connie still had his penis
enclosed in her mouth, and every spurt of ejaculation was going deep inside
her.

   Finally it was over.  Shaken, spent, Peter zipped himself up.

   "That was...  amazing.  But why?"

   "Go finish your work.  I'll come see you then."

   "But..."

   "Work.  Then talk.  Okay?"

   7.  Pep Talk

   Their work done, Peter and Phil relaxed for a few moments with their
coffees.

   "Big night for you, Peter," observed Phil.  "Lots of new experiences."

   If only he knew, thought Peter.  "Yup.  It's been amazing."

   "It's like a drug addiction, once you get used to this buzz, you can't
live without it."

   "I know what you mean.  I feel it."

   "So, uh, that girl you miked up.  I got the mic back from wardrobe with
surgical tape on it.  Funny, I thought, don't usually need tape to attach a
mic to a bra.  No, no need to explain, wardrobe told me the girl wasn't
wearing a bra.  Definitely quite an educational night for you, huh?"

   "I...  it was only a few minutes to go..."

   "No need to explain yourself.  You did good.  Getting the show on the
air is the important thing, more important than scruples about body parts.
And I don't blame you for not mentioning it in front of those reprobates
Jake and Mark.  I wouldn't have either."

   Phil chuckled.  "I've seen a fair few titties in my time doing this job.
More than that, too; you'd be surprised the number of big stars that don't
wear underwear.  And to be honest the professional talent get so used to it
that they don't care who sees them.  But the first-timers; that's
different. It's always a big deal to them.  In my experience, if you're the
guy who's taping mics to titties and running wires around a woman's body,
and she's never had that happen before, there are only two things that can
happen.  Either she wants to sue you, or, pardon my French, she wants to
fuck you."

   "Hey, Peter," came a shout from the other end of the truck, where the
camera guys were packing away equipment, "there's a girl here looking for
you.  Name's Connie.  Says you know what it's about."

   Phil raised a wry eyebrow and gestured for Peter to go.  "Better find
out which one it is, kid.  See you tomorrow!"

   8.  Exposition

   The car park was deserted, save for Peter's beat-up Golf, in which he
sat with Connie, the two of them staring forward into the darkness.

   "Did you actually get to see the play?" she asked him.

   "Mostly no, I was too busy".

   "I played this character called Emily.  She's meant to be this
upper-class, morally pure Victorian girl.  She's one of the daughters of
the main characters who they try to match up with, you know, eligible
bachelors.  And she gets to meet this succession of men, and she likes them
all, but her parents keep finding reasons to reject them.  So you've got
this horny teenaged girl who keeps meeting these complete studs of
Victorian men, and she can't do anything about her horniness, and she can't
even masturbate probably, since she'd be like thrown in an asylum or
something if she got caught.  And, you know, speaking frankly, that's not a
problem for the modern guy or girl, right?"

   Peter nodded agreement.  "Definitely isn't."

   "So I guess I never really felt that I was inside this character, and
then tonight comes along.  And through events that I have no control over,
I'm standing there half-naked in front of you, and you're touching me.  And
I really liked it.  I mean, I know you had to do it, it's your job, but you
can't tell me you didn't like it.  I could tell you did.  And I could see
how hard you were getting.  And, my god, it felt good when you touched my
nipples.  I thought I was going to have an orgasm each time you did it.  It
was so sexy."

   Peter blushed.  He'd never heard a girl talk so frankly about these
things.  He still couldn't believe this was all happening, and with Connie
too.

   "So I'm there, and I'm absolutely bursting, totally ready to come.  And
it can't happen.  You can't do it for me.  I can't do it for myself. 
Because I'm due on stage, like, right then.  And so I went through the
whole performance as horny as hell, desperate for sexual release.  And you
know what?  It totally worked.  That's who my character is.  It worked."

   Peter was puzzled.  "So, after all that, why did you...?"

   "The oral sex thing?  Didn't you like it?"

   "I loved it.  But why did you do it?"

   "There are three reasons.  One, because I wanted to give you a gift for
making my character work so well for me.  And two, for purely selfish
reasons, namely that I want you to do something for me."

   "What do you want me to do?"

   Connie turned to look at him, and touched his shoulder.  "I want you to
make love to me.  And I want an orgasm.  And I've been with other boys our
age, so I know that if you were still horny like I was, you'd blow your
load really quickly and I'd be stuck.  I need an orgasm.  I've needed one
for four hours now.  Right now, I'm so horny that I feel the lightest touch
will set me off.  I am deadly serious about this.  I want a hard, strong
fuck.  I know you probably have some stamina right now.  Are you up for
it?"

   Peter smiled.  "I'm willing to give it a try."

   9.  Resolution

   Peter held Connie's shoulders, and kissed her hard.  She responded
instantly, her lips parting to allow their tongues to meet.  They probed
and pushed back against each other while Peter ran his hands down Connie's
body.  She shuddered and Peter felt himself instantly hardening.  He
grabbed her left breast through her T-shirt, feeling the fabric of the bra
beneath and the unmistakable hardness of her nipple.  Connie placed both
her hands on his ass and pulled him hard onto her as she lay back on the
car seat, opening her legs to let him lie between them.

   Peter gasped at the feel of his penis against her body.  Despite the
layers of clothing between them he could feel an incredible warmth from
her. They continued to kiss, urgently, as Peter moved his hands under her
T-shirt and boldly pulled her bra aside.  Connie stretched back to undo the
clasp of her bra, as Peter pulled her T-shirt up to kiss her exposed
nipple. Connie moaned and tensed at the feel of his mouth on her, and
thrust her groin against his, her breathing labored.  She reached down to
undo her jeans, then slid them down with her underwear just to her hips. 
In the faint light, Peter could just see the darkness of a little patch of
pubic hair, and he could smell the unmistakable scent of her womanhood.

   Peter undid his own pants and let his penis jump free.  He kissed Connie
hard again on the mouth while he pulled her pants down further, a little
harder than he intended.  She gasped, and kissed him back with enthusiasm.
And then his penis was at her entrance, and then suddenly, it was engulfed
by her warmth.  Connie moaned as Peter thrust into her with his entire
body. She gasped, and tensed, and in a few strokes, Peter felt her vagina
shudder and tighten around him, and then she was coming, moaning, pulling
him into her yet further, gasping as she recovered her breath.

   Her movements slowed for a moment, and then with renewed strength, she
pushed Peter back to his seat - but moved her body with his, so that she
was straddling his still-hard penis, her pert breasts and erect nipples
just inches from his face.  She ground up and down on Peter, selfishly
fucking him.  She moved her breast into his mouth and screwed up her face
in pleasure as Peter sucked hard on her nipple.

   But a thought bothered Peter.  "Three reasons.  But you only said two."

   "In class," moaned Connie, "I always wanted to get to know you better.
Maybe go out with you.  But I didn't think you were interested."

   "I was interested!  I've wanted this since the first time I saw you."

   Connie's breathing intensified as she continued to bear down on him.  "I
used to masturbate thinking about you," she told him.

   "I used to have wet dreams thinking about you!" he responded.

   "Then why the FUCK", Connie exclaimed, "haven't we done this before
now?"

   Connie reached her second orgasm in a guttural yell of animal noise.  It
was finally more than Peter could endure, and he too came as Connie's body
shuddered around his.  They panted, still embracing.  Peter felt his penis
slowly softening inside her.

   "Did today really happen?" Peter wondered out loud.

   "I sure fucking hope so," laughed Connie.  "Because there are a few
parts of it I want to repeat."