Amy Ch. 13byParis Waterman©
The following morning Amy awoke with a glow to her, both inside and out. She looked around the bedroom and didn't see John. Slipping out of the bed, she ran on her toes to the door and looked out into the living room and then into the kitchen, not caring that she was nude and could be seen by the people in the next building.
'He must have gone to work,' she thought and then spied the note on the kitchen table. She scampered over to it and picking it up read it carefully, committing the message to memory.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
But I must earn a living and have to meet a most important client this morning.
I also have a call in to a casting director, who is a friend. Still, it wouldn't hurt if you ventured out and paid a visit to one or more modeling and acting studios. You never know when you'll be discovered.
I shall be home early (5 at the latest) and we can continue where we left off---
PS: Last night – was definitely the best night of my life.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Amy's heart melted then and there. She sank to her knees and read and reread the note until Eve opened the apartment door an hour later and discovered her.
"So Miss Amy, tell me all about . . . Oh gosh . . . you have no clothes!" Are you sick? What is wrong, Miss Amy? Shall I call Mr. Prentice?"
Jolted out of her reverie by the maids questions, Amy returned to reality and although startled, maintained her composure.
"Oh, I'm sorry Eve . . . I was just reading this note . . ."
Eve took the note from Amy's hand and read it several times. As she did so Amy reflected that she and the maid had made love in this very room. My nakedness isn't new to her. But I probably should get dressed and start my day as John suggested. Oh . . . John . . . .
"Miss Amy . . ." Eve began, "this is wonderful! I am so happy for the two of you!" She was hopping around the room like a five year old on Christmas morning, truly delighted with the news.
Amy thought she should try to explain her true feelings, "Eve, last night was . . ." But thought better of it and stopped.
"I had better get dressed," she said, and then a moment later followed with, "Oh, c'mon with me. We can talk while I shower and get dressed."
They passed the next hour doing exactly that. Of course Eve regaled Amy with her adventure with Mona too.
Then Amy rushed to the corner newsstand and picked up a copy of that day's Variety and quickly scanned the pages for possible tryouts and auditions. One in particular caught her eye. West Side Story was casting. That was a positive; she had played Maria in high school and a lesser role in a summer stock production. She knew the music and dialogue. Her hopes soared as she read on.
"MARIA: Understudy. This Role Is Pre-Cast. This Actress Will Also Play ROSALIA and Do Some Chorus Dancing. Young, Lovely, Open, Naïve, Romantic — Must Have A Strong Soprano. Must Move Well. Latina or Able To Play Latina."
Female: 18 to 25
Then a second role caught her eye:
ANITA: Young, Sexy, Passionate, A Hard Cynical Exterior With Warmth And Caring Beneath. Strong Mezzo with Belt. Latina or Able To Play Latina. (Must Come To The Dance Call).
Female: 18 to 25
Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw that she had an hour to make the dance call and raced into the bedroom, tossing her luggage on the bed and rifling through it until she found a pair of leotards and other dance paraphernalia. Then, she ran down the stairs not waiting for the elevator and hailed a cab.
Amy made the Dance Call with ten minutes to spare. Quickly she signed in and then looked around for a space to await her call. Finding a chair near a corner of the large room she sat down and looked around. There were twenty-four other girls vying for the role of Anita. Several were sotto voicing the song "I Feel Pretty" made famous by Rita Moreno.
Amy racked her brain trying to recall the steps she'd used in several of the dance numbers and as she was doing so, heard her name called.
"Yes!" she shouted out as she leaped from the chair, knocking it over.
"Let's see you dance, babe," a bald-headed man of about fifty called out. The quartet of musicians began to play a Latin dance number. The music seemed to transform Amy. Her hips and shoulders moved to the Latin beat of "America." Her long muscular legs teased every man and woman within viewing distance. She whisked her hair around, smiling seductively at the trumpet player. A man wearing eyeglasses and holding a clipboard, reached for her. Coquettishly, she slipped from his grasp only to spin and come to a halt inches from his outstretched arms. Then as she moved away, accentuating her hip movement and long graceful arms, the bald-headed man waved to the musicians to stop playing.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," the bald-headed man shouted and the piano player halted in mid-note. Amy, totally perplexed over the shortness of her routine stared at the bald-headed man as if waiting further instructions. He took her look in and figured that that was what she was waiting for and told Amy, "Take a seat on the left side, baby. We'll listen to your voice in a few."
With her heart beating three times its normal rate Amy did as she'd been told and sat next to a thin, raven-haired woman of perhaps twenty-three, who was talking quietly to a short blonde of at least twenty-six, or seven.
"So I put all that time into the friggin' relationship and what do I get out of it?"
The blonde, a confused expression on her face offered, "The furniture?"
The raven-haired woman gave her a quick look of distain that the blonde missed, and turned to Amy who was wiggling her rear on the chair trying to get comfortable.
The thin, dark haired woman answered her own question while seeking eye contact with Amy. "Nothing, not a God damned thing, except a royal pain in the ass and having to sweat out a period thinking the bastard had gotten me pregnant," she huffed.
"Who dumped who?" Amy asked trying her best to make conversation with the women.
"You think for a minute the bastard dumped me?" she hissed.
"I don't know," Amy replied and fought her instincts to keep from flinching under the woman's tirade.
"Hey! Quiet over there," shouted the bald-headed man, "we're tryin' to have a fuckin' audition here. Any more noise from that shitty mouth of yours Elsie and you're out on your ass. Got it?"
Elsie wanly raised her right hand in acknowledgement and slumped down in her chair.
"It's all over with now isn't it?" Amy asked.
Elsie gave here a look that said, what the hell are you talking about?
"I meant the relationship. It's over with, right?"
"You do intend to move on with your life, right?"
"The fuck are you with all the questions?" Elsie snarled.
"Hey, I'm making conversation. Like you started it," Amy said getting red in the face and fearing she might have to fight her way out of the audition.
"Whoa," Elsie said, obviously very annoyed with Amy. "This audition's over, I think I'll kick your scrawny ass down Broadway to Twenty-Third Street."
The blonde, obviously not a dumb blonde, chose that moment to speak up. "Hey, Elsie, back the fuck off. The kid didn't mean anything Elsie. You wuz the one bitchin' about Charlie just like always. Ventin' I guess you'd call it, I was a shrink. But all the kid here did was ask if you're over him. You are ain't cha?"
"Yeah, I'm over the fat fuck all right," Elsie admitted.
"So why pick on the kid here?"
"You're right, Linda, you're right." Elsie sighed, then looked at Amy. "Hey kid, I'm sorry I tried to bite your head off. I didn't mean nothing by it, honest. I just get so hyped up with these auditions. Go to one or two every day. Can't hold down a decent job because I'd miss one and then I get passed over time and time again. I just get pissed off, that's all. I'm really sorry." Elsie appeared to brighten a little and said, "Hey, my name's Elsie, what's yours?" and without waiting for Amy to reply, Elsie said, "and this here blonde bimbo is Linda."
"Linda, Elsie," Amy said, "Hi, I'm Amy, Amy Prentice."
"I haven't seen you around before today," said Linda.
"Well, I'm sort of new in town," Amy said with a shy smile.
"Just off the bus, huh?" Elsie said.
Amy nodded her head, then said, "A couple days ago, uh huh."
"Staying at the YWCA?" Linda asked.
"No, I'm staying with my uncle."
"If you want you can share the rent with us. We've got room," Linda chirped.
"Yeah," said Elsie, "a broom closet. Can you sleep standing up?"
The three women laughed happily, the cat fighting forgotten.
"Hey," said Linda, with a note of fear and apprehension in her voice, "we're the only ones picked so far."
Elsie did a quick count and said, "Four others left, we've got a shot!"
Self-consciously, Amy smoothed back her blonde bob, tucking one side behind her ear. She felt a delicious tingle in her loins and quickly recalled an erotic moment from the night before, then thought about what lay ahead for that evening. She shuddered with anticipation.
Linda seeing Amy quiver, said, "It only lowers the odds. We've a long way to go.
But it really wasn't long before Elsie was called upon to render "I Feel Pretty," and did a very good job, at least from Amy's perspective. "She'll be hard to beat," Amy thought and then readied herself leaning forward to apply the dark red gloss to her pursed lips as Linda stepped up on the stage.
Linda was better than Elsie and Amy's legs were shaking as she heard her name called and stood up.
The bald-headed man had noticed Amy from the beginning of the audition. The others he had seen and heard many times before in his role of casting director. He always welcomed new blood, ever hopeful of uncovering a new star and he'd liked Amy's dancing. It had a certain flair that corresponded to the Bernstein score. He suspected she'd played the role elsewhere, but discounted it until having heard her sing.
Amy slammed the great show tune, "I Feel Pretty," giving a great rendition that had half the people in the room applauding. She gave a brief bow in acknowledgement and blushing crimson made her way back to Linda and Elsie.
"Wow!" Elsie gasped. "You rock, kiddo!"
"I think we have a winner and first time too. Congratulations, Amy," Linda said. Amy knew she was sincere, but was not certain about Elsie's reaction.
"Amy?" It was Linda speaking to her.
"Listen carefully. If, I mean when they call you up and tell you to wait in the other room you do as they tell you. I know you're new here in town, but what that bald-headed bastard is gonna expect from you is a blowjob, maybe more. Do it! Do whatever he wants. He can make you a star, kiddo." Linda paused and then in a wistful tone repeated the words. "He can make you a star."
Amy's mouth dropped open. At the same time, the thin strap of her black top slipped from one shoulder as the significance of Linda's words registered on her.
'Whatever he wants – do it!'
'Stardom awaits and all that's stopping me is a blowjob!'
Elsie was talking to her and Amy heard her final words, "Broadway is tough. They only take the best, you know."
Her voice dry as parchment, Amy replied, "Yeah, thanks. And thanks for the other stuff, Linda."
"You didn't know did you, kiddo?" Linda asked.
"Um, no," Amy replied quietly.
"Well it ain't so bad. Linda and me we've sucked our share of dicks," Elsie said. "Some of 'em better than others . . . the parts I mean, not the dicks," and all three managed to laugh at her sage comment.
Then the bald-headed man approached them and pointed to Amy. "You, please come with me."
She followed him meekly to the other side of the room, not five feet from the door to the other room.
"Good audition, Prentice," he said for starters. He continued, telling her what he'd liked and what he hadn't liked. Amy could only nod as she listened intently to his every word. Then he pointed to the door and told her to go into the room and wait.
On leaden legs, Amy trudged to the door, turned the knob and opened it. The room was dark and she felt along the wall for the light switch, and finding it, flipped it up. The room was not filled with light as she had thought it would be. A small blue bulb threw enough light that Amy did not walk into any of the furniture in the sparsely decorated room. There was a table, two chairs and a sofa. Amy closed the door behind her and sat at the table, straddling a chair and leaning her shaking arms on the backrest.
As if from a far distance she heard the casting director thank everyone for coming and heard the women gathering their belongings and scatter into the busy street outside.
It was so quiet that she began to tremble in fear of what was coming.
The bald-headed man turned up the stereo. A flood of saxophone, piano, and steamy jazz filled the blue lighted room. He pulled the zipper of his fly down and motioned for Amy to approach him.
Amy bit her lip, took a step toward him then knelt down on the floor. A pretty blush crept up her chest and colored her cheeks. She reached for him; her hand delving inside his plaid slacks; found him and pulled his flaccid penis out into the blue lit room.
Instinctively, Amy licked her lips and then took his limp cock into her mouth, easily licking his entire member for a few moments before he started to grow.
His left hand lay on top of her head, kneading the small bun of hair found there. The right hand began to stroke her shoulder blades and spine. Her tongue laved around his corona as he surged to full size, which to her vast relief was no more than five inches at best.
"Yeah, baby, I really like that," he said as her mouth tightened around his thickening cock.
The bald-headed man bent his head and whispered huskily into her ear, "You're a beautiful woman --- I wish I were twenty years younger . . . "
She removed him from her mouth but kept jerking him off, slowly, tantalizingly and looked up at him. "I don't even know your name," Amy said, adding a light lisp to her tone.
She felt him readying and knew the lisp had done it.
"Thay your name for me," she lisped again. He lurched backward and came in her face. Amy was amazed at the prodigious load of semen he released --- splattering over her hair, chin, lips and neck.
Amy did not say another word, but took him back in her mouth and cleansed him. The bald-headed man was suddenly weak-kneed and stumbled to the chair and plopped down on it, his penis flopping about as he did.
"Maury," he gasped, obviously winded from the exertion of her blowjob. "Maury Pearlman and you've got the part. But I want two more blowjobs from you or maybe you'll let me fuck you once. You pick it. Anyway that's for tomorrow. Be here at 9 in the morning. We'll do it then. At 10 the cast will assemble and we'll kick off rehearsals. Got it?"
"Yeath," She said, lisping again. Then Amy turned away from him looked around and found an already soiled paper towel and used it to wipe the sperm from her as best she could.
"Ith there a ladies room I can use, Maury?" She asked, somehow feeling better about hiding behind the lisp.
"Yeah," Maury replied. "Outside and to your right, I'd use either the men's or women's. No one's here. I think the men's is cleaner."
Feeling dirty and used, Amy gave Maury a weak wave of her hand and left him sitting there, his dick still hanging outside his plaid slacks and went to the men's room to wipe herself clean.
On arriving home, Eve was all eyes and questions, but Amy gave her a stern look and walked past her and into the master bedroom and the master bath. She took an hour long bath; then showered for another twenty minutes before drying off and putting fresh lingerie on. Bundling her leotard, socks, leggings and dance shoes, she took them to Eve and told her to send them to the incinerator.
"Miss Amy! Miss Amy! What's wrong?" Eve asked, feeling her friend's pain.
Amy just waved her away. "I need to be by myself, please Eve. I can't let Mr. Prentice know what happened."
"Were you raped, Miss Amy?"
"No Eve, I was not raped. Now stop the questions. Take that . . . that stuff to the incinerator, please!"
Amy retreated to her bedroom and lay down. She did not sleep, but lay there thinking. 'What do I tell John? He'll want to kill that bald-headed prick.'
She forced herself to recall the previous night's pleasures with John and almost started to touch herself to renew the pleasure of that time; a moment later she was wondering what would be in store for her that evening. Then she thought about what lay waiting for her the next day . . . and began to sob.