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that this time I didn’t have to answer.
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Chapter Three
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    It was fortunate that my part in Fiddler was so small. The next day I had difficulty walking. The mirror revealed that my ass was unmarked except for a few rosy streaks, but the slightest brush of my fingers anywhere on the skin sent twinges racing across the surface—and then down to my pussy. As for my sex, it was tender and sensitive. My biceps ached from gripping the bed and my inner thighs felt as though I had spent half a day on the StairMaster.
    It was fortunate, too, that the demands of my work kept me from thinking too much about the previous night and its revelations. Fiddler was opening that evening and there were a million details to be managed—final adjustments to costumes, installation of the set, a last minute trip to the mall in Pittsfield to search for suddenly required props. In summer stock, everyone is expected to pitch in, to do whatever it takes to mount the show.
    Every now and again, though, a little stab of pain would remind me. A strange joy bubbled like champagne in my veins. I felt lighter than air. Adele noticed my secret smile.
    “What’s up, Sarah? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary!”
    “Oh, nothing—I’m just excited about the opening…”
    My friend appeared sceptical but didn’t have the opportunity to press me for more information since Arthur sent her back to the inn on an errand.
    Our final dress rehearsal began right after lunch and lasted until nearly five. Arthur kept changing the blocking and Reuven, the choreographer, was even more of a perfectionist than usual, taking us through the steps so many times that I think I could have executed them in my sleep.
    Although he’d been working with the troupe for only twenty-four hours, Geoffrey was fantastic in the part of Tevye. His transformation from tall, elegant, arrogant celebrity to the humble, dumpy, philosophical milkman was nothing short of miraculous. In addition, he somehow inspired the cast. Every player—even Jack who had been so bitter the previous day—seemed to sparkle under his leadership.
    I tried to catch his eye, desperate for a bit of recognition. He was too much of a professional to slip out of character. During the break between acts, though, I looked up from a conversation with Adele and Clarissa, a local girl working as an extra, to find his dark gaze focused on me.
    He was at least twenty feet away, but I felt as though he was beside me whispering in my ear. Instant heat claimed my body. Sweat pooled in my armpits under my homespun shift. My nipples leapt to attention and my pussy turned molten. I had an overwhelming urge to run over and kneel at his feet. His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile and he gave me the barest of nods before returning to his discussion with Arthur.
    “He’s staring at you.” Adele interrupted Clarissa’s chatter.
    “What?” I started out of my submissive reverie.
    “Our leading man. He was staring at you like he wanted to eat you up.”
    My cheeks burned. “Oh come on, you’re imagining things. Look, he’s talking to the director.”
    “Now he is, maybe. But just a moment ago, he was looking at you, and it wasn’t a casual look, either,” Adele insisted. “What’s going on between the two of you?”
    “Not a thing!” I hated to lie to my friend, but I knew that I had to keep quiet about the previous night. “He just enjoys making us girls squirm.” An image streaked through my mind—my body splayed naked on his bed, hammered by his cock, struggling to keep still. “He’s so full of himself—he’s sure that he’s God’s gift to women.”
    “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind if he made me squirm,” Adele murmured.
    I wondered what she’d say if she knew about the spanking. I pushed the thought away.
    “I think he’s still pretty much hooked on Anne Merrill, just as you said.” I shrugged, pretending I didn’t care a fig about Geoffrey