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You invite her on the show again and again because the giggling and banter are almost as good as sex. But one night she shows up in-person in this impossibly fitted red strapless dress, and suddenly it's just not enough.
When the show's wrapped, you can't get back to the green room fast enough. She's alone, drinking a glass of wine, and you take her hand and pull her up with you. You're silent down the hallway until the dressing room door closes and you can push her back into it, kissing her fiercely.
From there, it's a series of flashes:
Her hand raking through your hair as you sink into the crook of her neck.
The zipper dragging slowly downward until the dress pools at her feet.
The curve of her pale hips against stark black panties.
The softness of her skin, urging you deeper, swallowing you whole.