Alex's Awakening

Chapter Ten

Alex was expecting a certain level of opulence when they arrived at the opera house, but she was still stunned by the grandeur that greeted them. The interior was like a gilded cathedral to the arts, with velvet curtains and gleaming chandeliers overhead that cast a soft, warm light over everything. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and perfume and the smoke from fine cigars, and the low murmur of conversation filled the grand hall. Everyone was dressed to the nines; the men were in their best suits and tails, the women in dresses that could have graced the red carpet and stunning jewelry. Alex felt like a fish out of water, but Charles seemed right at home.

"This way," he said, gesturing for her to follow. "I got us the box seats. I must have a good view whenever I attend any sort of theatrical production. It's something of a weakness of mine."

The box seats were indeed luxurious, offering a panoramic view of the stage. Alex felt like royalty as she settled into the plush chair, her heart racing with excitement. She had never been to an opera before, and the opulence of the setting was overwhelming. The orchestra began to play, and the velvet curtains parted to reveal a stage adorned with elaborate sets and costumes. As the performance began, Charles leaned in and provided some context.

"La Traviata is about a courtesan named Violetta, who falls in love with a young man named Alfredo," Charles whispered into Alex's ear as the first aria filled the hall. "It's a tragic tale of love and sacrifice."

"Like Romeo and Juliet?" Alex asked.

"More like a love affair with a heavy dose of reality," Charles whispered back. "Violetta is dying of consumption, you see. When she meets Alfredo, she's living a life of excess and decadence, but he offers her something she's never had before: true love and acceptance. It's a powerful story, and the music is absolutely haunting. It's always been one of my favorite operas. I catch a performance of it every chance I get."

"Well, I have no intention of dying of consumption," Alex joked.

"No, I suspect you're much more robust than that," Charles said with a smile. "Despite your petite build." He paused. "Might I suggest something rather...naughty?"

Alex felt her pulse quicken. "Oh, please do."

"Why don't you give me a blowjob, here, now, in this lovely box seat, while I watch the play?"

She licked her lips. "That," she declared, "is the best idea I've heard all day."

"Then, please." He gestured at his crotch. "Impress me. Let's find out if all those five star reviews I saw on your profile were telling the truth."

"Oh, they were," she assured him, getting smoothly from her seat and dropping to her knees. "And I'm about to show you why."

With unhurried grace and practiced ease that belied her tender years, Alex unbuckled Charles's pants and pulled out his cock. It was already semi-hard, and she wasted no time in making it rock-solid. She took him in her mouth, her eyes never leaving his as she began to bob her head up and down, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. The opera's music swelled around them, a dramatic backdrop to their intimate performance. Alex flicked his tip with her tongue, stimulating his sensitive tip, and used her fingers to massage his balls.

The sound of the orchestra mingled with the occasional gasp from the audience below, which only served to make Alex feel more aroused. She felt like a secret starlet, giving a private show in this grand theater. She knew that the chances of anyone noticing them were slim, but the thrill of potentially being caught only added to the excitement.

"Finger yourself," Charles commanded softly. "Finger yourself while you blow me, Alex. I want to see you play with that delightful pussy of yours."

Alex's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't hesitate. She slipped her hand beneath her dress and found her already wet slit, her fingers sliding in and out with ease as she continued to suck him off. She strummed her clit like a guitar and slid her fingers in and out of her rapidly-moistening cunt, matching the rhythm to her bobbing head. She could feel the heat building in her own body, a crescendo of pleasure that grew with every stroke of her hand.