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She stroked it. Evelyn licked her lips with anticipation as she examined Mr. Rubin’s cock. It was stiff and long enough to fill her hand. Evelyn slid a finger pad along the main vein and lightly stimulated the lesser veins elsewhere on the shaft. She leaned in and kissed the tip with her wetted lips. She caressed the crown with her flat tongue and slurped his knob past her cherry colored lips. Her head swiveled to maneuver her tongue all around the circumference. Evelyn’s hair hung forward and partially obscured Rubin’s view. He flipped the offending strands behind her back. Evelyn kept going without hesitation. From past experience, she was aware of and prepared to handle the upcoming sequence of events. As she worked her oral labors, the hair falls fell forward again. This time Mr. Rubin gathered them in his fist and clenched them in a tight bun behind her scalp. Evelyn began taking deeper breaths in preparation for Mr. Rubin’s inevitable next moves. Mr. Rubin suddenly realized. He was there to revolutionize technical design and theatre management. We both fell a bit short of our dreams, but we always joked that we weren't dead yet--so who knows what could still happen?That became our catch phrase. When I'd fuck up an audition and convince myself my career was over, he'd tell me, "Lucy! It's not over. Stop playing dead!"That was back when I was Lucy. I hated the name, but when I was just starting out it seemed to fit. I was the wide-eyed innocent, blonde-blue-thin-pale-fragile, and it played well. I could play "Our Town" without breathing hard. I was brilliant as the ingenue.Nathan and I got married the day after graduation, and we moved into a tiny apartment --a third floor, non-air- conditioned walk-up that cost us more than our University tuition, books, and housing combined. But we loved it. We were there to fulfill our dreams.We were young, ambitious, and in love with the idea of struggling for our goals. The starving artists--noble and admirable..
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