Acting 101 Ch. 01: The Pictures

The doorbell rang and Steff sent me to the door to get dinner, while she ran upstairs to grab Meredith. We all reconvened at the small round table near the kitchen. Steff and I tucked into our slices while ignoring each other and Meredith looked back and forth between us.

"I take it my rehearsal is going better than yours?" she asked calmly, between bites. "I feel like Clarence Darrow up there, but then I'm on my third run-through. Maybe you two should just relax and drop it for tonight. Go do your other homework, practice on your own some more, then try again. Whatever you do, don't get all pissy with each other. I don't have time for that crap."

Steff and I looked at each other a little sheepishly and ate our pizza with more gusto. Then we found common cause against Meredith by rehashing internet memes about how pineapple on pizza was a war crime. Warning: do not employ a 'criminal' metaphor when teasing a lawyer; it will end badly, if perhaps hilariously, for you if you try.

After we finished, Meredith took herself off to be Clarence Darrow some more and Steff and I did a simple, calm table read of the script one more time, then called it a night and set our next rehearsal for Tuesday.

On the way home, my mind found itself having to deal with the sudden collapse of my comfortable assumptions about how I felt about Steff and not dating her. Or at least not fucking her. God, she was hot. Staring into her eyes, and running my own eyes over her figure, was terrifying to me all of a sudden. If I really sold those lustful lines, I'd mean them. And Steff would know I did.

And would that be the worst thing?

Quite possibly.

In the shower before bed, images of Steff from that night got me feeling the need to relieve myself. But when I closed my eyes and started jacking, I found myself imaging Meredith instead. It kind of shocked me for a moment, but then I felt what the hell: The Friend Zone and The Friend's Mom Zone were equally fantastically unattainable. And Meredith was most righteously spank-worthy.

Tuesday we had class together in the afternoon. As if all was normal, I sat right behind Steff and even briefly rubbed her shoulders while Tony and Kimmie sat on either side of her and tried to persuade us to join them at their next improv competition Friday. Among Steff and I's many points of total agreement was a lack of interest in getting caught up in Tony's current passion project. Class started, neatly shutting Tony up, and all seemed normal again. Except my fingertips kept tingling long after I had stopped rubbing Steff's long, bare, sleek neck....

I arrived at Steff's that evening, and noticed that the garage was open and Steff's Honda was in there, but there was no sign of any Mercedes 500SL.

"Ready to try again, Mr. Olivier?" chirped Steff as she answered the door.

"It is Oscar time, Ms. Hepburn," I replied with a smile. It was good to be horsing around together again.

We started the rehearsal with another simple, flat reading of the script, sitting beside each other on the couch, and finding we both had the scene almost entirely memorized now. We both took heart from that and high-fived enthusiastically when we finished. Before we moved on, Steff excused herself to empty the clothes dryer, move the wash into the dryer, and do a quick fold. I was told to wait because her need for fresh underwear tomorrow was greater than the need to rehearse.

That left me sitting on the couch... with my thoughts. Now I was going to have to put some feeling into those words again. At least I'd gotten my mind clear enough to understand that when I did say those lines, my character explicitly talking about wanting to stick his tongue down her throat, and only vaguely metaphorically about his sticking various other body parts into all manner of places, I'd be meaning those words in real life as well. I hoped that that understanding would be enough to keep me on an even keel and not looking perverted. I was still afraid of what Steff might think if she perceived that truth, but at least I wasn't confused about my own mind any more. And who knew, escape from the Friend Zone wasn't totally unheard of. Just damned rare....

I cast my eyes around the home to distract me. It really was a pretty incredible house. Swank digs indeed for a junior partner in a law firm and her (ex?)-step-daughter college student. Steff's dad must have been loaded. At 23, I was still an undergraduate because I'd taken two years off to try to parlay a small, unexpected inheritance into something more by being a day trader. I was lucky and I was good, which as it turns out is a splendid combination to have when trading options and futures all day long. I had since lived a very comfortable life for a college student, and I knew first hand how much some of the things I was looking at had to cost.

After a few minutes, I actually looked at the coffee table right in front of me, where Steff's backpack sat. Resting face down beside it was a stack of 4x6 photographic prints. I wasn't sure how long it had been since I'd seen hard copy photos and guessed maybe she had been looking at childhood pictures, or some shots of her dad before I got there. I idly picked them up.

Oh. Oh, baby! These were not baby pictures.

When I flipped over the stack, I was met with the sight of a smiling Stephanie Chisholm in a red string bikini. My hands actually trembled. Her body was even better than I had thought. She often wore tight clothes, so I had a good idea about her figure, but I hadn't realized it was this God damned good. Her legs were sleek as hell and her hips flared just the right amount below her slender waist. Her flesh was tight, toned and utterly free of lumps and bumps. Well, except for two exceptional bumps that rested deliciously in her quite minimal top.

I flipped through the pictures swiftly, slowing drastically when her pose shifted to place her back to the camera. I had always thought Steff's ass was perfect, but it somehow still exceeded my expectations, barely half-covered by the bright red bikini bottom. I'm not a large butt guy, and her tight, rounded yet toned, utterly smooth ass left me with what I realized was quite the erection. I shifted on the couch to ease the tension from my jeans and thanked God that I had worn a loose bowling-type shirt that would hide my condition. I kept flipping through the pictures.

The next phase of the shoot suddenly had her clutching a towel to her chest, with no sign of bikini straps running over her shoulders any more. Holy fuck. A few pictures later, she was turned away again, towel still clutched to her chest, but her back was completely bare. I then saw the top lying on the chaise behind her in one shot. Two pictures later, she was lying on that chaise, arms stretched high above her head, but with the damned towel still draped (barely) over her breasts. She smiled brilliantly through all the shots, but I knew her well enough to see a few sign of nervousness in her smile in some. I flipped to the next picture and realized that I was all the way through and looking at the first picture again.

I heard a clearing of a throat and looked up with a start at Steff, staring at me with a skeptical smile, hand resting on a cocked hip. "So, are you enjoying pawing your way through my private modeling test shots?" she asked. I started to stammer a reply, but she cut me off and plopped down on the couch near me. "I had them done just last week, right in the back yard here. And since I was too stupid to put them back in my backpack before you got here, I guess I might as well ask... What do you think?" she asked, a fair amount of insecurity creeping into her voice at the end, along with some eagerness as well.

"First," I said sternly, "what kind friend doesn't let on that they have a fucking pool? I am hurt by your betrayal. Second," I went on sternly, "your photographer sucks balls. The lighting and/or exposure on a bunch of these is crap."

"Oh," said Steff quietly.

"Third, it is fortunate that the model redeems every damned picture," I said firmly, looking her in the eye. I actually saw her nostrils flare a tiny bit. "You look amazing in these. I mean, you always look amazing, but you just look so damned graceful in these." I was shocked and suddenly a little afraid I was being too complimentary the moment I finished.

Steff blushed a tiny bit, but her naturally acerbic manner reasserted itself. "'Graceful', right. I think you mean bare," she challenged.

I shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound, I took a deep breath. "Speaking of that, where are rest of the pictures?" I challenged her.

Steff actually started at my question, then slowly asked, "What rest of the pictures?"

"The ones without the towel or the top," I said in as playfully over-the-top a teasing tone as I could manufacture. I brandished the last shot of her lying on the pool chaise, arms stretched high over head, and swelling breasts nearly popping free above the towel. "Surely you didn't finish with this?"

"Pervert!" Steff laughed.

"Guilty! But where are the other shots?" I asked, pushing my luck.

"There are no other shots," Steff said firmly, then refused to meet my eyes. "I chickened out."

"An epic tragedy!" I exclaimed in a mocking tone that hid how big a fucking tragedy I thought it really was.

"Yeah, well, now that my mistake has your hormonal male brain all engaged, let's try the scene and see if you can put some of that horniness into your acting," she said briskly, rising to stand in the open area we rehearsed in.

As I followed her, I decided I was going to get over my fear and let my lustful flag fly. I now had an excuse, and a conversational opening about it. If she got uncomfortable, then I had... we both had, a rhetorical route out. I did still clutch my hard copy of the script like a security blanket though.

Just before her opening line, it occurred to me: had she left those pictures out precisely to rile me up? Had she been pissed because she thought I wasn't acting attracted enough? More doubts were not what I needed, so I banished them. Successfully... for the most part.

This rehearsal was miles better than Sunday's. Steph flubbed almost no lines, and I only wandered through the timeline twice. More importantly, I at least was starting to emote appropriately. I let my desires leak out into my lines, or at least enough to make my character's motivations seem more plausible. Steff was till saying her lines too fast, but both of us sounded more or less in the vein of where we should be.

The problem with this advance was that it rapidly became clear that there needed to be a hell of a lot more physical contact between our characters than I, at least, had bargained for, and Steff and I had not even begun to discuss the topic. She clearly knew it too, and we started an awkward non-conversation discussing pretty much everything on planet Earth except how we should hold each other.

This time, it was the garage door that saved us, its closure heralding the arrival of Meredith from the office. She swept into the room and waved at us cheerily. Good Lord in Heaven, could that woman rock a business suit. I wanted to send a thank you note to her tailor. It was clearly hand-fitted, the close-buttoned waist-length jacket announced her narrow waist and more than full bust, while her just barely shorter than normal skirt moved smoothly and comfortably over her hips, just tight enough to suggest an enchanting bum. Three-inch heels, just shy of Come Fuck Me height, added power to her height and sway to her walk. She smiled at us. "Rehearsal going better tonight, I hope?"

"Yep!" said Steff.

"Yes, thank you for the advice," I added.

"Well, a good couple like you shouldn't have that much trouble with a relationship scene like that," mused Meredith leaning down to tug one shoe off her foot, flexing her toes luxuriantly.

"We are not a couple, Meredith!" exclaimed Steff, a little too hotly for my recently recognized inner desires.

"Really?" said Meredith slowly and very doubtfully. She looked at me speculatively.

"Yes, really," I said good-naturedly. "The real world isn't When Harry Met Sally. Guys can, in fact, be just good friends with hot girls."

Meredith cocked an eyebrow at me, then deliberately bent to remove her other shoe. "Let the record reflect that you said Stephanie is, quote, Hot, unquote...."

"Will you quit being a lawyer for five goddamn seconds a day, Meredith," scolded Steff. "Leave him alone."

Meredith laughed easily, flashing that incredible cooked smile. "I was just pointing out testimony beneficial to my client," she said indicating that Steff was her client. I cringed, realizing that this was in fact what I'd just said. "I just came home to drop off my briefcase and swap out these ridiculous shoes for some more sensible pumps. I'm having dinner with Brenda and Hanna tonight." Meredith paused, "You two really aren't dating?" she asked, a little something strange beyond and besides bewilderment in her voice.

"Why does everyone think we are a couple?" I asked Steff.

"Not everyone," Steff replied, but added, "but plenty seem to, for some damned reason. Neither of us has ever so much as asked the other out," she said firmly to Meredith.

Meredith smiled again, raising her hands in apology. She turned to go, and as she slid her feet into some low pumps sitting by the door, she paused with her back to us. I may or may not have let my gaze linger on her ass as she stood there. She took a deep breath and turned back around.

"Do you have any plans Saturday night, Scott?" she asked idly.

Warning bells should have gone off in my head, but I'm a guy, so I'm oblivious. "Nope," I said unconcernedly.

Meredith flashed a smile at me, a real stunner this time. "Great! You can pick me up in that Tesla of yours at seven-thirty. Wear a suit, please." She winked at me, then I swear she winked at Steff. My mind was trying to fully process that her invitation had not included Steff, and that I had in fact just been asked out on a date by Steff's goddamned mom. Step-mom. Ex-step-mom. Whatever. This was going to take some careful consideration and tact to answer, I thought. I knew I needed to temporize. However, "Sounds great!" was what immediately came unbidden from my quite enthusiastic lips.

Meredith actually flushed a little and smiled when I accepted, and I flashed for a moment on an impression that this might not have been the easiest thing for her to ask. But then she looked at Steff and my gaze followed hers. Steff looked scandalized but, I was relieved to see, good-naturedly so. She was glaring back at Meredith with a hard gaze but also a little smile.

Without breaking eye contact with Meredith, Steff cleared her throat and asked me, "All right Scott, what are your plans for Friday night?"

This really was the dumbest two minutes of my life....

My mind was fully occupied trying to wrap itself around a date with Meredith. I had certainly never gone out on a date with anyone as hot as her, and that scared me. Then, what did it mean that she had asked me? And how was I going to handle the fact that she was thirteen freaking years older than me? Was that going to be awkward or awesome? What my mind was not doing was considering Steff's question.

"Oh, on Fridays I usually go to the Rec Center and play some pickup hoops with some guys I know," I replied absently to Steff. I happened to be staring at Merediths beautiful face when I said it and I watched her eyes widen, then wince.

Click.

I whirled to Steff, wide-eyed and on the border of full-blown panic. "But that's just what I usually do if I don't have anything better... I mean if I don't have plans! Sorry! I'm free! Totally!" My voice went into grovel level two all by itself.

Fortunately, my embarrassment seemed to mollify the storm I'd seen building in Steff's eyes at my initial cluelessness. She still folded her arms huffily, "Well I certainly would not want to take you away from your manly pursuits," she drawled haughtily. Now she was a cat, torturing a mouse.

"I can work out earlier in the day, or, or some other time. Really, I'm available. Why do you ask?" I said, playing my part. And by playing my part, I mean letting a little of the actual panic I was feeling that I might have fucked up and let an opportunity with Steff (Steff!) slip through my fingers.

She relented. "I just thought you could pick me up at seven on Friday. And for crying out loud, don't wear a freaking suit."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied firmly. I fumbled around for my glass of water, trying not to look at either of these gorgeous creatures while my brain caught up. Said brain was way, way fucking behind current events. I was going out Saturday with an incredibly beautiful, graceful, older woman, and going out Friday with my smoking hot, formerly Platonic friend. Wait, formerly? Just because we went on a date, did that really mean we weren't going to be platonic any more? Not necessarily. And my smoking hot friend was the step-daughter of the beautiful older woman! That didn't complicate things at all. Not one little bit. And, oh God, accepting Steff's invitation, did that cancel my date with Meredith?

I killed the whole glass of water, which my throat really needed. But I was still no closer to answers about how I was going to handle, or simply survive, the best situation of my life. I guess I was silent for a long while.

"I think we broke him, Meredith," observed Steff drily.

"Oh, I hope not," purred Meredith in turn.

I smiled wanly, and I'm pretty sure I blushed a little, but at least my gaze came back into focus.

"Well, Brenda and Hanna are waiting for me, so I must be off," Meredith went on merrily. "I guess we call this one a draw, Stephanie... for now. Scott, I look forward to Saturday night!" And with that, she was gone.

I think I stared at the door for little too long. Saturday was not cancelled.

"Ahem, I am still here, you know," said Steff tartly. I know for sure that I blushed this time, and I turned to my friend. My gorgeous friend. My gorgeous friend who was currently holding the most common pose from those bikini pictures, albeit now wearing her baggy jeans and school sweatshirt. As soon as she saw that I recognized the pose, she slumped into normal buddy Steff posture. "Welcome to the Steff and Merry Competition Thunderdome, I guess," she added with a smile.

"The what?!?" I croaked.

Steff smiled with a little sadness. "I told you I wasn't the best person when she first came into my Dad's life. The healthiest way we could figure out to deal with each other was to compete in everything we could, so I would stop trying to compete with her for Dad. We played games, and still do. My dad had to stop us from playing Bridge against each other, because it got so heated. Now we play Bridge as a team, and we fucking rule. Like, we won a city championship last year. We try to top each other all the time in things like scandalous made-up stories about strangers we see when we go out. Two months ago, we went down to the Porsche Experience and raced 911s."

"Really?" I interjected. I'd always wanted to try that place. "How did that turn out?"

"I don't want to talk about it," replied Steff evenly. I laughed, and so did she. Things were starting to stabilize again.

"But tonight was new. We've never competed over a guy before," Steff mused, as if still working it out herself.

"I guess I'm honored," I said, a little dubiously.

Steff shrugged and looked at her watch. "Wow! I told you I have early class tomorrow, right? Let's run the scene one more time and then I gotta get some homework done for other classes."

And just like that, we flowed into the scene once more. Things were suddenly much better. I really let my lust flag fly this time, and wow did it work. I had real feeling in my words, and my assertiveness gave Steff something to push back against to show her reluctance and doubt. We sounded great. The only problem was, we still were standing four feet apart almost the whole time. Visually, we were still incredibly amateurish. The contact and touching still needed to be worked out, but for the first time, we both were willing to say that we would probably be ready, and might even crush this scene.