"Yes!"
The boyfriend replied in a low voice.
"I wasn't talking to you, sir. I was talking to my boyfriend," the woman snapped, stomping her hefty foot with such force that the floor trembled Spider-Man could feel it through his enhanced senses.
"I said I'm talking, Megan!"
The bald man's fury was barely contained, his eyes nearly rolling back in frustration. As a prosecutor, even throwing that earlier punch had already crossed a professional line. If he kept going, someone would surely file a complaint.
"Andre! Andre!"
Megan started screeching again, right in front of the stage. Her voice grated like nails on a chalkboard.
"Damn it! Someone get that loudmouth out of here!"
Spider-Man had been in a great mood moments ago, especially since this was Mary Jane's show. But now, watching someone disrupt the event so brazenly, his anger flared. He had half a mind to swing over and seal her mouth shut with a strand of webbing.
"I'm not going anywhere! I'll go wherever I want, I'm looking for my boyfriend!"
She was utterly unfazed, stomping around like she owned the place. Brazen confidence born of thick skin and sheer audacity.
"Andre! Andre!"
Just then, the surly-faced security guard pushed through the door, followed by five or six tall, burly men. They were actually here to find Peter Parker, but the security guard couldn't ignore the disruption at the stage.
"Ma'am, please lower your voice. This is a theater. Quiet is required"
"Shh! Get away from me, you director."
She waved him off, eyes locked on her target: Andre.
"That's not a director, that's security!"
Her boyfriend couldn't take it anymore. He muttered under his breath, clearly regretting every life choice that led to this moment.
Still not finding her boyfriend, she turned to the security guard and demanded,
"Can you turn on the lights? Shine them on the audience, I need to find my man."
"This is a theater, not a cinema!"
"Move, I said! Andre! Where are you?!"
Her hoarse, duck-like voice rang out again, drawing groans from the crowd.
"I can't take this anymore!"
The bald man finally snapped. He grabbed the boyfriend beside him who was nearly a full size smaller and hoisted him like a ragdoll.
"You two, out. Now. I mean it!"
With that, he physically shoved the boyfriend out the door. Megan chased after him, shrieking, and the bald man slammed the door shut behind them. Locking it.
And just like that silence.
"Yeah!""Good riddance!""Bravo!"
Applause broke out across the audience. At that moment, the bald man was everyone's hero.
Spider-Man clapped so hard his palms turned red. It reminded him that heroism didn't always mean battling villains.
Sometimes, being a hero meant standing up, resolving chaos, and protecting the peace. That too was worthy of respect.
The rest of the play went smoothly, and once it ended, Mary Jane returned backstage to remove her makeup.
The other actress was still fuming about the woman's outburst.
Mary Jane, on the other hand, was glowing with joy. Her "backup boyfriend" had finally come to see the show. She tried to soothe her colleague:
"Relax, it was a one-off. How often do we get a pair of crazies like that?"
"Hmph, true enough. Still... I don't like people like them. It's because of them that America's becoming so chaotic. Just... unpleasant."
The actress curled her lip in disgust, then noticed Mary Jane's unusually radiant expression. She nudged her with a smirk.
"Okay, what's going on with you? You're never this chipper."
"Was I really that obvious?"
Mary Jane blinked, feigning innocence.
"Your face is redder than a monkey's behind and you're asking that? Come on, admit it—your boyfriend showed up, didn't he?"
The actress teased her mercilessly.
Mary Jane reached up to her cheek, it really was burning. She glanced at the mirror and saw a reflection that looked like it had just fallen in love: eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, lips curled in a shy smile.
"Alright, alright, enough gossip. Take off your makeup and go home already. Keep yapping like that and you'll never get married!"
Mary Jane rolled her eyes and playfully scolded her.
"Fine, fine, I'll stop. I'm heading out. Hope you have a lovely night."
The actress flashed a knowing wink, made a cheeky hand gesture—index finger and thumb forming a circle and slipped out with a chuckle.
Mary Jane turned to her reflection again. Twenty-five. The perfect age. She was still youthful, but her face had gained a touch of maturity. Her skin was smooth, radiant, with a softness that seemed to glow.
She studied herself for a long moment. The more she looked, the more she wanted to bite her own lip.
No wonder the guys outside couldn't take their eyes off her.
Sigh... being beautiful really is both a gift and a curse.
She stood up and began undressing. Since she'd been playing a medieval noblewoman, the costume was full of complicated layers beautiful to look at, but a pain to remove.
She turned her back to the mirror and slowly lowered the dress.
Her bare back was like fresh snow—smooth, unblemished. If Peter Parker had been watching, his nose would've started bleeding on the spot. At first glance, it seemed completely bare. But if you looked closely, you could make out the faint trace of a strap across her skin.
Outside, Peter Parker was waiting by the theater door.
A street performer nearby was singing to a simple guitar rhythm:
"Spider-Man, Spider-Man,Heroic and just, he takes a stand.Hands out wide, he spins his thread,Thieves and crooks caught in his web.Watch out now, Spider-Man's near!"
Peter waited... sitting... standing... pacing. Still, Mary Jane didn't come out.
Unable to hold back, he finally walked toward the entrance.
The security guard gave him a glance, but this time, didn't stop him.
Peter scratched his head awkwardly.
"Mary Jane's a friend. I just want to check on her backstage."
The guard nodded and stepped aside.
Peter gave a quick thanks and hurried in. In just those few minutes, he had imagined over two hundred scenarios in which something had gone terribly wrong.
He reached the dressing room, gently pushed open the door
And froze.
Mary Jane's smooth, pale back was fully exposed.
Because of her natural figure, she still had a touch of baby fat, softening her curves.
Peter didn't dare make a sound. She was alone, moving casually. As the gown slipped down, a sliver of white lace appeared.
He stared, wide-eyed. His throat tightened. His eyes stung.
Tears welled up helpless, grateful, overwhelmed.
He was home.
(End of Chapter)
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