Page 16 of Uriah's Orbit
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Went to yours.”
My mouth fell open, and Uriah let out a laugh.
“It’s okay, Mister Candy-pop Superstar. I don’t out people. I’m not telling anyone. Let me finish these pants so I spare your balls any further stimulation.”
I looked at the line up of outfits hanging on the portable rack. “How many of those have pants?”
Uriah was back to the ground, with two pins in his mouth. He glanced over, glanced up at me, and gave me exactly one half of a cocky grin. “All of them.”
I coughed, hard.
* * *
My poor,underserved nuts saw more action in one hour than they had seen since I’d realized that kissing Kimmy Trammel wasn’t half as interesting as kissing her brother Kenny.
I couldn’t tell if Uriah was laughing at me the whole time, or just part of the time. He was singing and dancing along with the soundtrack as he mercilessly brushed against my nuts, poked my legs and arm pits with pins, and tugged everything into places where they had no business being.
“You done in here yet, Uri?”
I turned my head and found the director standing there.
“Yes, sir, Bill. Give me two more pins and I’ll have him out to you.”
Bill walked around me, examining me from all angles. “Shit. Rubens didn’t look this good. You managed to make him look like Radames, Uriah. This is good.” He looked up at me. “Comfortable?”
“Not even remotely, sir,” I said.
“Excellent! Well done, Uri. Stick a few more pins in him.” He slapped Uriah on the shoulder. “And Uriah, you don’t have to wear the formal suit all the time.”
“I make my own clothes, Bill. I’m going to wear what I want when I want.”
“Arrogant shit.” Bill laughed. “Come on out with him. Give Mister Lowell a chance to impress all of us.”
“I have some sewing to do, Bill.”
“That’s an order.”
Uriah rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Okay, fine.”
Bill walked out of wardrobe, and screamed, “Everyone on stage in ten! We got a freshy to break in!”
“Fuck, I’m a fresh fish,” I mumbled.
“Yes, you are.” He grinned. “Ever been in a musical before?”
“Does college count?”
“Drama club or theater major?”
“Drama club.”
“Then, no.” He jabbed a pin in my wrist
“Ow! Did you do that on purpose?”
“You’ll never know,” Uriah said, with a rather dead on British accent. “It’s the the-ate-er!”
