"Come all ye lovers of a good story! And I will tell thee about the end of Oedipus's tale. Of the godly divination of the Parcae, and how the thread spinned of Fate was not beguiled!" The Jester was upon the stage again when Rafel pulled back the drapes as entered the gallery booth again. In his heralding voice, the character announced the set for the final Act.
Rafel returned to his elegant seat on the top crop of the theater and faced forward. The lights were just beginning to dim. He ran a hand down his fly, noting that Rosamunde's gray eyes leveled on the evident rise. It was just an offhanded move to make sure his zipper was fixed, but when a hot girl followed the path of his fingers, it became some thing more.
If not that it was rude to have sex with the tragic romance drama ensuing downstairs, Rafel was of a single mind to perhaps indulge the sin in Rosa's swirly gaze.
"How was the bathroom?" She licked at her lips.
Shit. He should've taken her to the loo with him, for a rampant quickie some.
Rafel knew her question was insinuative.
"Later," he whispered to her in the booth's fine shadows. "—but say nothing else or I'll be tempted to take you back there and give you a taste." In her own couch, Rafel saw her throat bob as she gulped; the thought of him whipping out his dick—even if it was just to pee excited her too much.
To wonder inside her head if he'd do his 'thing' in her mouth made Rosa shut her eyes and ask her God for dear mercy.
Good holy girls didn't go around wondering what it'll feel like to have a man's piss on her face. But, the running stream. The steam. Hot. . .
Hotter if he got hard right afterward.
"Fuck." Rosa sucked in her teeth. They were here for the play. But something told her if she stuck long around Israfel, she'd be doing penance for eternity. She was always horny around the man. The saints must have cursed her to want so deeply a demon—everything she should hate. But then all of her desire and need in a darned fine wrapping of a red-haired god.
Israfel was her dark angel.
Feeling the riptide of arousal riot with her mind, she bit on her bottom lip and tried to force her body to work with her head. Tried—the keyword. If the other girls in the booth with her were half as horny as she, then Rafel was at the real risk of being jumped by four wanton bombshells.
"Don't give me that look. Not right now." Her demon growled. "We need to see the final Act. And you're making it fuckin' hard to keep my eyes on the stage. Lower your eyes and numb the heat in your gaze. I will not submit to sin, at least not for another twenty minutes.
For giving me a boner in the middle of the damn school drama, I will have you punished later. Now do as I say. The actors are coming on."
Rosamunde fluttered her attractively long lashes and did as his growly voice commanded. She did look away. Nonetheless, there was no dulling the passion in her liquid eyes. In fact, his hard timbre just made it worse. She couldn't stop imagining those desirous lips all over her body now. Or the feel of his big, ruffian body if he joined with her.
Rosa clasped her hand in her lap, bunching the dark material of her skirts under shaking fingers. She was turned on beyond words.
Rafel's baritone rang in her mind as if he was right behind her: 'For giving me a boner. . .you will be punished later.'
Yes. Punish me, daddie O! Punish me real good.
"Good God." Rosa shivered.
She mourned for the boy beside her. Her boy.
Her lost son.
He knew not that the man he had killed was the King in his prophecy, good Laius, his father. He knew not that the woman who cradled him, whom had just in the last hour being loved by him roughly and sweet was the Queen from his prophecy, his mother. Oedipus knew not, else he would have shut his mouth. And not spake a word.
Yet, in the secrets, in the betrayals, in the avoidance of the prophecy, they had themselves fulfilled it.
Jocasta weeped openly. Oedipus, struck at her sudden mood change rushed out to fetch a handmaiden. A side door slammed on stage. This was the pinnacle of the play. No one wanted to look away. No one wanted to miss a second.
The music swelled to an emotional lumbering. A few faces in the audience were streaked in tears also.
Everyone watched as the ancient Queen of Thebes, Jocasta of legend slipped stiffly out of bed in her cream shift. She shined like a nightingale, haloed in her ghostly white under the spotlight. She moved as if unaware of her own feet to the stage center, the center of the bedchamber, and she stared out into the audience with glimmering eyes full of tears. Her pupils were swimming in agony.
Jocasta murmured only three words.
"Fate's a bitch."
There was a flash of lightning on stage, where the audience could see nothing for a beat. And when the sudden moment passed, the stage came into view again. A silhouette dangled from the domed chamber ceiling.
Oedipus, brave in love rushed in through the door again with the handmaid.
"Ahhh!"
The girl screamed at the sight. It was most tragic.
The queen, innocent and clandestine in her white sleeping robes hung from above. Cords of the blanket were wrapped around her neck and it was twisted to the side. Cool brown eyes stared out at nothing.
"My Queen." Oedipus fell at her dangling feet. He clutched to her waist on his knees and wept, holding her in tight embrace. He wailed into her swaying body. Jocasta had hung herself. In her death, the truth was revealed to him; became known of its own.
"My mother," Oedipus confessed. "My mother."
The curtains closed over the young Greek hero who sobbed at the feet of his wife—and mother.
For several moments, the whole theater was the quiet of a cemetery. Half the audience had blurry eyes, and some even openly weeped. Percival and Aya had given such an astounding performance in the end; the crowd felt the love. The tragedy. The legend. "Fuck." Even Rafel lowered his head and rubbed his eyes together.
The Play was a cautionary tale, executed in utter perfection. All actors and actresses featured in it played their parts amazingly. Rafel figured it couldn't get any better. The drama, Of Sons and Mother's deserved a Golden award.
Several.
The whole cast of the play stepped on stage. And all in the theater rose to their feet.