A WINTER’S TALE
Celebration . . .
The frenzy backstage had peaked, and still Tempest was surrounded by well wishers, crowding around her with kisses, hugs and dozens of flowers. The fragrant perfumes from the gold dripping theatergoers, and the bouquets they brought her were dizzying, though Tempest loved every second of her ephemeral reign as princess for the night. It was a role that suited her distinct personality well. Tempest knew when to take advantage an audience, and this was an opening night to savor.
Looking up to the crowd after a gracious hug from her director, her stunned eyes glanced on a blonde haired man walking toward her. Every atom in her voluptuous frame teetered on the verge of explosion, as if this one additional element to this wonderful night might just send her
