Acting Lessons

She nods solemnly and starts to eat her ice cream nonchalantly.

"No more ninja?" He asks.

She takes a slow bite, licking at the ice cream on the spoon. "The knife thing is looking better, though. We'll have to have steak some time together."

His smile is wide.

She points out "I just threatened to stab you."

He shrugged "I had noticed. But you also implied there'd be a next time. I think that's my cue to leave."

He stood and gallantly took her hand between his and kissed her fingertips, then walked to the door and let himself out.

She stared at her hand and cursed it for tingling, staring at her betraying digits until the ice cream melted and she'd lost her appetite.

+++++

Tuesday came and she couldn't eat on the day of the first reading. It played havoc with her blood sugar, but she knew her voice would be clear and wouldn't crack. Not sleeping well and not eating left her feeling a little lost and waif-like on the first day, but if that's all she felt, it might be good to be weak and not in a homicidal rage. It wouldn't do to murder the director the first day.

Rehearsal meant utilitarian hair pulled back into a ponytail and a minimum of makeup for her. Sweating and crying took a toll. And she was sure she'd be doing both. Rehearsals were always emotional and she figured this one would be worse than most.

Compulsively early, she sat at the table, waiting for the cast to fill in, trying to memorize names and starting to go over her lines for interpretation. It was a huge amount of content to remember, and not just a period piece, but several period pieces. Vignettes of a couple through time, as if karma had picked them up like leaves in the wind and twined them together over and over, each life playing into the next. It began with the French revolution and ending up in modern times. She'd always wanted to be in a play with a guillotine? Was that an interesting quip for a Playbill? Fitting into the corset was a concern too. No more ice cream for a bit. No more steak for that matter, either.

There were ancillary characters that filled in different parts, and part of the play's charm was not knowing who was which character over time. Genders swapped and roles reversed. Her parts were beautifully written, and there was betrayal and horror and lust and joy aplenty.

As the roles and chairs filled in, she was happy to see some friends and happy to see some new faces, and her only concern was a particular actress she knew by reputation to be a complete bitch. Well, can't believe everything you read.

Unfortunately this actress was playing it to the hilt and was always "on." Marlene Faron leaned over to Lauren and made her jolting acquaintance. "Lauren! Such a pleasure to meet you. Now, I know everything about you and David. Don't worry, sweetheart. I will keep all your secrets. And just so you know, David and I are involved, so you have no need to guard your broken heart here. We're all friends." A sweet smile dripped from Marlene's cultured lips and Lauren confirmed her internal suspicion: Yep. Bitch. David turned you down flat and you're circling the wagons.

Lauren played up being the waif and quietly said "Of course, Marlene. How kind of you. It's always wonderful to know that I have a good friend on my side. I so look forward to working together."

Marlene squeezed Lauren's hand with a "mission accomplished" air and sailed off to her seat. Lauren thought that Jessica Rabbit had arrived. So she and David were playing pattycake, huh? She ducked her head to hide her smile behind the script.

The actor to her left caught her smile and leaned in confidentially. "Whaaaat a bitch. You didn't buy that, did you?"

Lauren shook her head and kept her voice civil. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. She's such a lady."

"Don't let her operate the guillotine." Was his only response. They smiled conspiratorially at each other. Friends.

"I'm Arthur."

"Pleased to meet you, Arthur. You're such a gentleman. I'm Lauren."

"I might be operating the guillotine. You'd better be nice to me."

"Noted. I'll be very careful."

Arthur and Lauren continued to banter until Marlene started some honking vocal warm ups of the horrifying sort that left them nearly unable to speak without laughing.

Fortunately that was David's entrance cue, and everyone settled down and the honking ceased.

Introductions passed and the read through began, building her hopes even higher that this cast was not the velvet poker playing dogs. Even Marlene gave a perfect bitchy false twist to the characters who needed it. It was a brilliant bit of typecasting, she had to admit. This was going to be great.

+++++

Time passed and blocking started. Since David had so far been nothing but professional in his acting and directing, she was able to concentrate more than she'd hoped. He was being true to his word about being there for her and being what she needed. She'd almost come to rely on feeling comfortable around him.

Marlene's jabs and self-promotion became the backstage joke and a few stage hands and techies were having a contest regarding who could deliver the best impersonation of the lady. The proper falsetto nasal tone was reproduced by a 320 pound lighting technician nicknamed "Tiny" to her shock and wild appreciation. Her clapping was interrupted by David's rueful laugh. "Lauren, for shame. Tiny, that's damned good. You're her understudy. Don't tell the Union."

Laughter followed them as David tugged her onstage by the hand. "Cruelty made you miss your cue. Do you have the slightest idea what part of the play we're conducting, ma'am?"

Her eyes danced and she nodded "Yes, I'm desperately in love with you and unable to escape even through time from the pull of your unbearable attraction."

He smiled. "Good. Now you're catching on. Time to block the kiss."

"I'm sure my contract specified a body double for this."

"I'm equally sure it didn't, as the contract was drawn up by my lawyers. Quit stalling. This is the masked ball scene."

"You're a romantic, David."

"You're worth being romantic over, Lauren. Stop trying to butter me up. Time to pay up. Your coach awaits. Time to convince me."

"Convince you of what?"

"That we belong together, and our unbearable attraction will read to the back row of the house."

She waved her hand "Of course. We're destined to be. It's in the script. Must be true."

His lips twitched. "Okay. I'm not gonna make this easy for you."

Her head tilted "Not going to make what easy?"

He stepped behind her as if giving her stage instruction, his hand on her waist and her arm upheld as if in a dance. "I'm not going to make acting easy."

They swayed back and forth as if to music and her smile was serene "But I'm so GOOD at it David, why resist?"

He began to block out the masked ball scene, a complicated bit of theatrics involving sweeping waltz moves and split-second frozen tableaux. As the pair sniped their lines at each other, parts of their past would play out in another part of the stage in silent mime.

The blocking made it possible for his back to be to the audience and partially obscured by his mantle and cloak, with her picked out in bright light, facing forward.

Actors are not particularly kind to each other on stage, through somewhat malicious tradition and a dare-you sense of one-upmanship. Attempts to make each other break character tends to be part of the more playful aspects of the theater, and David used this tradition to his best advantage, using the tableaux to whisper quietly while she was forced to stand still and not react.

It was a ruthless scene that ended with her pinioned against a wall in an alcove, a young aristocratic girl threatened by an unscrupulous political operative.

David was good at unscrupulous. She hadn't been afraid enough of this scene, clearly. The vicious tone he managed to impart to his character was genuinely frightening and brought out the worst of her fears about the man himself. Despite her comfort with him, she was right. He was making it hard to act.

Turn and cue and hold.

Her arm was trembling while he whispered in her ear "Lauren, when I wrote this, I was thinking of your breasts and how they'd look in a corset, pushed up. I really want to see that. Do you think you'll have trouble controlling your breathing while you're dancing with me?"

Turn and cue and hold.

Awkwardly held back at an angle in a dip, her thighs strained against his in the pose, he whispered again "What do you think it would have been like, if I'd had absolutely no need to convince you and just took what I wanted? Something like this?"

Turn and cue and SLAM.

Back against a wall his mouth came down hard on hers, his hands pinioning hers out until her dress formed ethereal wings with his black cloak pouring down over her body like defiling ink.

End scene and he released her hands, but his body remained too close to hers for her comfort. Heaving with indignation she drew back and slapped him so hard there was nothing but silence as she stalked off the stage.

Arthur chimed from the pit "I don't remember that being in the script."

David answered back, starting to follow Lauren's exit, "Still in the experimental stages. I like her instincts."

Stagehands and co-cast cleared out of her way as she stormed through to the dressing room, once again facing a mirror and gripping a counter because of him. The door opened behind her and David came in.

Her voice was terse. "This is a dressing room. For women."

He shrugged that off and stepped behind her "I know that. And yet."

Her eyes closed and she sighs "Fine. You manage to fuck with my head. Well done. Please go away."

His arms slide around her waist and their eyes meet in the mirror. "It's really not your head I want to fuck with, honey. Fun though that is, I've really got other things in mind."

"The less I hear about your mind, the better."

Wrapping his hands around her ponytail, he pulls her head back and lowers his mouth saying "I guess I'll have to show you then."

His mouth was punishing and she was angry enough to bite and step on the inside of his foot hard enough to make him shift his position to trap her against him a little more firmly, her head tilted back toward him and one hand stroking her throat.

"Lauren, please. Let me in. I want you so much it hurts. Watching you breeze in and out of character is killing me. I need to feel it. Please."

Swallowing hard she gives in to his words and his hands and his mouth, understanding the essence of the hard and the mean and the cold and the hot and biting at his lips, swiveling under his grip to accommodate wanting to press against him.

Clothes started to rip and frantic fumbling with buttons and zippers, his hands lifted her up on the counter and he entered her in a searing mindless thrust from both of them, straining to get closer, teeth biting at each other's lips and then hot mouths trailing over skin and straining tendons tasted with tongues and fingertips.

Her head cracked against the mirror hard when her back arched for him to taste her breasts, his teeth twisting against her skin and his body slamming hers back on the counter, pancake makeup and wigs scattering.

Coming hard and fast, they lingered in the position, lips easing and fingers soothing, muscles relaxing and soft chuckles starting from each of them.

"I broke another mirror."

"At least we broke it this time, together."

"My head though. Ow."

"I'm sorry, honey. I'll try to make it up to your head, and heart, and pride."

"I could get used to this."

"I already have, in my head, which is why you being uncooperative is frustrating." His mouth ranged softly over her breasts.

Shifting up to her elbows she kisses the top of his head. "I'm sorry I'm so uncooperative. I'll try to fix that. I'm sure it's in my contract somewhere."

Offering her his hand, he pulls her up to shaky standing position. "If I could have gotten it in there, I would have. I'm an evil bastard."

"You're also an evil bastard with no shirt now, who is in a girl's dressing room."

"Oops. Okay, I'd better go before they send Tiny in to investigate."

Her laughter followed him on the way out.