Chapter 10 #2
They worked together for several minutes, gradually increasing their physical contact.
Kim would fold himself under Dídac, lifting the actor on his back.
Then Dídac, grasping the director’s shoulder and twisting his torso, might bring a foot to find a support on Kim’s thigh, before lifting himself to place his other foot on Kim’s shoulder.
Or, grasping one wrist firmly, Dídac would swing out, his body taut in an upward curve, letting Kim completely support his weight.
Thus, they worked together, each using the other as physical support and counterweight to explore fresh physical shapes in the space.
After several minutes, slippery with each other’s sweat, they quite spontaneously came to a halt.
Standing chest to chest, panting in each other’s faces, they gazed for the first time deep into each other’s eyes.
Dídac’s arms were around Kim’s torso, while Kim’s hands rested lightly on Dídac’s hips.
Perhaps at the same time, each felt the warmth emanating from the other’s thighs and torso, pressed to his own, and the natural heat from the other’s groin, which the thin, stretchy fabric of their leotards did nothing to hide.
Kim felt Dídac’s cock stir and stretch beneath the Lycra, and his own responded.
Instantly his cock was fat and straining for release inside the dancer’s belt he always wore for rehearsals—a coiled snake fighting against its prison.
To Kim, Dídac smelt of wild horses, salt and some other intangible spice like cinnamon, one he could only associate with Barcelona, and with Dídac.
The young man’s green eyes were wide and staring into his own.
Finally he was seeing him without any barriers.
His breath smelt faintly of coffee. His lips, full and slightly parted, looked soft and inviting, a light down of mustache growing across his top lip, matching the curling growth of beard on his cheeks.
Kim found himself wondering what those lips would be like to kiss.
He could feel Dídac’s heart hammering in his chest, like his own.
Without quite knowing what he was doing, he moved his head gently forward.
Dídac swallowed and his eyes half-closed.
His lips felt as soft and warm against his own as Kim had hoped they would.
Dídac opened his eyes fully again and those intense green irises were watching him, as Kim ventured with his tongue between Dídac’s gently parted lips.
At the pressure of Kim’s tongue, Dídac’s mouth opened further, his own tongue coming to meet Kim’s, the two of them touching and entwining, performing a fresh improvisational dance within Dídac’s mouth, which felt hot, moist, and inviting.
Then Kim came to his senses. He pulled back and stepped away, dropping the embrace.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! That was totally unprofessional…”
The younger man looked confused and at a loss. His erection, easily visible in his leotard, formed a solid diagonal bar across his thigh, stretching the spandex, even leaving a tiny damp stain, where a drop of pre-cum had leaked from the tip.
“Uh, no… I…”
In vain, Dídac attempted to adjust his hard cock.
“Please forgive me, Dídac. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m in a position of professional responsibility. That was totally out of order.”
“No, no… It’s OK.”
Just then they heard voices on the stairs.
Dídac spun around and ran toward the corner where he had left his clothes.
Crouching down, he pretended to look for something in his bag while he adjusted himself.
Kim turned away from the door as Dana, Carme, Felipa, and Domènec all trooped in together, probably having met for coffee together in the bar below.
Dana, young, blond, a brilliant actor but never known for her diplomacy, immediately sniffed the air:
“Wow, this place smells like some work has been going on!”
She gave a huge theatrical wink. Though she was presumably just making a joke with no knowledge of what Kim and Dídac had actually been doing, little did she know how right she was.
Kim laughed, checked quickly to make sure his erection had gone down, and turned toward the new arrivals:
“Dídac and I were warming up. We started improvising and got a bit carried away!”
Sometimes throwing the truth at people as a joke means it’s the last thing they’ll believe.
“Dídac,” Felipa called out, “I wanted to tell you at the press conference just how beautiful that speech of yours was, but you’d left so quickly.”
“Thanks, Feli.” Dídac stood up and came toward them, now holding his script conveniently at waist level, covering his groin.
“Did you really see Kim’s production way back then?” Felipa went on.
“Hey, it wasn’t that long ago,” Kim laughed. “You make me sound ancient!”
“It was ten years ago,” Dídac said. “I was fifteen. Mr. Delatour was twenty-five. And yes, Boomerang was absolutely sensational.”
Now the whole atmosphere in the rehearsal room had changed and lightened.
Dani and Kiko had just appeared, and the puppeteers hadn’t been called today, so everybody was now present.
All the actors, men and women together, were shedding their street clothes and pulling on track pants, leotards and raggedy tee-shirts—the perennial theatrical rehearsal uniform.
Kim decided to take advantage of the moment to change the dynamic:
“And everybody: No more Mr. Delatour, please. Just call me Kim. OK, ten minutes of individual warm-up and then we’ll come together as a group.”
As he went to fetch his notes, he crossed paths and gazes with Dídac.
Their look was prolonged and meaningful.
But Kim couldn’t read its significance, or even think about that now.
He had to run the rehearsal. And then Laia entered, with a couple of urgent matters she had to sort with the office before he got settled into rehearsal, and he gave her his full attention.