Dress Rehearsal

I'd never heard of Monroe College, nor its Arthur T Kimmelweck School of Cinema, but clearly it had heard of me: the seats were packed in the brand-new theatre where they'd set up nice Eames reproductions for the three of us, plus a moderator. The whole place was buzzing, the usual rumble of students about to get a presentation about sex, and I took a look at Jackie as she waited just offstage with some cantaloupe. "Which chair you want, Jackie?"

"I don't care." She hesitated, then glanced around. "Actually, take the middle one. I don't feel a compelling need to sit beside Alex. He can take stage right: that should give him a chance to charm the moderator."

"Alex Rabados, such a charmer," I snorted. "That dude's brilliant, but he's never charmed anything in his life."

"He was probably an ugly baby," Jackie laughed, but fondly; we both owed our whole careers to Cynthia Fades, and that was no small debt. It's hard to actually turn show business into a consistent living wage, even apart from the fact that not everyone can be Tom Cruise. The world is packed with actors and writers who essentially do those things as poorly-paid hobbies, waiting while they chase that elusive Big Break... a break that had come to Jackie and I in our first movie, in just one scene.

The scene we were going to be answering questions about today.

So we took our seats in a blinding ripple of applause a few minutes later, complete with clip-on mics and a small flunkie bringing us constant water refills. Say what you liked about the Kimmelweck School, they knew how to host a symposium. The moderator turned out to be a pleasant-looking young grad student with a vaguely Pippi Longstocking air, who curled her legs under her on the Eames chair and smiled as the applause began to die.

"Thank you!" she beamed as the lights fell. "Good morning, and welcome to this year's sixth annual Kimmelweck Cinema Symposium. I'm Gretchen Barry, and I'm thrilled to be able to host this morning's panel discussion. We're going to be providing a whole weekend of workshops and panels on the theme of love in front of the camera to celebrate this Valentines' Day, and for people who love the indie cinema of about ten years ago? Our guests in this discussion need no introduction." She nodded to us; we'd met her for about half a minute, just before the curtain had come up, but her meaning was clear enough even to Alex.

She was giving us our cue.

"I'm Alex Rabados? The director of Cynthia Fades? It was my third movie. I mostly work overseas now, doing directing and producing for all kinds of stories from all over the place."

"Alex was here a few years ago as a visiting professor, and we're excited to welcome you back." Her shining eyes shifted to me. "Erik?"

I cleared my throat, as usual unsure how much deference to give the clip-on mic. "Hi. I'm Erik Durgin, and I was cast as the male lead in Cynthia Fades. I still do a lot of acting, but most of my work now is on the production and screenwriting sides. I'm pleased to see you all here," I trailed off, smiling into the harsh lights.

"You might know Erik from his recent Kimball Award nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay? Are you going to win, Erik?" she smiled.

"Oh! No way. I'm up against some truly talented people, but it's been an amazing experience." I thought about my optioned scripts, and decided to butter Alex up a tad. "I owe it all to Cynthia Fades, though, obviously. I was really lucky to be in such a great little movie, and to work with such an inspiring director." That got a sprinkling of applause, at least, but Gretchen had already moved on.

"And, of course, the leading lady," she winked.

"Hey, everyone." Jackie was as sprightly as ever, at home in front of an audience as she never really was in front of a camera. "I'm Jacqueline Wahl, and I got to play Cynthia in the movie. It was a really great experience, but I've mostly done stage shows since then." She paused, glancing a little shyly across at Alex. "I was pretty sure I'd never make a better movie than Cynthia Fades," she admitted, to an appreciative mutter from out beyond the lights.

When I glanced over to catch Alex' reaction, he was finally smiling.

"So great!" Gretchen burbled, "and that brings me to our first topic, the one that's probably on everyone's mind: the sex scene." She was good, this Gretchen, pausing with a strangely innocent leer at the audience while she let them giggle. As expected, Jackie bowed her head demurely, while I blushed on cue. "The famous sex scene. The entire film universe was talking about that one scene. What made it so special? Alex? Want to start us off?"

The director worked his jaw briefly, looking like he was chewing on a rib bone, then spoke a bit distantly. "I think the two actors would agree that the key to that scene was keeping a hands-off approach." He looked a little confused when everyone laughed, then joined in a little nervously. "I mean, from me. Clearly, 'hands-off' does not describe what the actors did. But I think I did a good job understanding that they could make it work if I gave them the leeway to do that."

"That was Jackie's idea," I put in softly. I hadn't even meant to speak, but I thought it was the most important part of the whole scene.

"Yes," Alex nodded, "it was. There were certain aspects that our awesome writer? EK Plemons? Shout out?" He nodded sagely as the audience dutifully clapped. "Yeah, EK wanted us to hit certain marks that were key to his idea of the story. The idea of, you know, the oral part. And the fact that both people had to be wearing socks. The challenge for me, as a director, was to make sure I told that story while still letting the actors interpret the scene."

"Jacqueline?" Gretchen sat perkily up in her chair. "How did you help get that idea across?"

I stared over at her, sitting so regally, yet so meekly. She'd always done that: she let everyone know she knew she was the center of attention, but she understood that she didn't have to keep pushing it. She took a breath now, looking pensively up toward the ceiling. "It was a difficult scene for me. And I thought it was a difficult scene for Erik, too. We did a lot of rehearsals, and I wasn't sure they were working. So I just mentioned that to Alex, and he was gracious enough to let us try the scene a little differently."

"'Differently' how?"

Jackie shrugged. "More spontaneously, I think is how I'd put it." She nodded toward me, her eyes looking back into the past.

Like mine.

"Yeah. She's right: the rehearsals were a little awkward," I began.

"They looked fine on film," Alex made sure to say. "I thought both of them were doing a great job."

"Yes. But there was definitely a little strangeness there." I spread my hands wide. "Remember, this was my first movie? Second? I was twenty-one, I think."

"I was twenty-two," Jackie nodded, "and I'd never done a sex scene before."

"Never?" Gretchen made a show of being impressed. "So is it weird to know that your very first sex scene was also a classic in modern film? I mean, professors are still teaching about that one scene." She led the audience in a nod. "Just last week I saw that scene mentioned in a film review."

Jackie frowned prettily, acting again, letting the audience know she was taking the question seriously. "I think so. It's not really something I think about, the scene being any kind of classic. I just know that it's a powerful scene in a really good movie, and that makes me happy."

Gretchen pursed her lips and rolled another conspiratorial glance toward the audience. "Speaking of happy," she went on, shuffling through some index cards, "a lot of commentators over the years have talked about the emotion you guys showed during the love scene. How do you, as actors, or as the director," she added, nodding at Alex, "make sure you can get that emotion across?"

"That's all acting is, isn't it?" Alex shrugged, "the wilful expression of emotion? Convincingly?"

The audience stayed silent at that, but then of course they would: many of them were actors. The silence grew for a couple of seconds until I cleared my throat. "You do what actors have always done, Gretchen: you read the script, then you do your best to act it out while drawing from your own experiences." I smiled into the lights. "The rest? You make that up."

The moderator leaned forward, almost pouncing. "Your own experiences? How did that work in this scene?" She clapped delightedly. "You two weren't in love, were you?"

"No!" It came out automatically.

"Because it looked like you were. People have been talking about that since the day the previews started," she pointed out, "the sheer emotional impact you two were able to get across."

I turned helplessly toward Jackie, since it was clear Alex would be no help. The audience waited in blackness. I wondered how many of them were recording this, how soon it would be up on Pixboox.

Jackie collected herself, then smiled. "It's always helpful to have good chemistry with your costar," she said primly, "and I think Erik and I had great chemistry. Not love? But if you like your costar, and you want him to give his best performance, you're... well, you're going to do things that help him do that. And I think he felt the same way about me."

"Hell yes," I nodded, maybe with a bit more feeling than I needed to. My heart was hammering. "She was an amazing person from the moment I met her at the audition. I enjoyed being around her, and she enjoyed being around me, and I think we both felt like we wanted that scene to reflect some of that authenticity." I hoped that was enough.

But no; Gretchen's smile was a slowly spreading pool of flaming oil. "Sounds like you two really hit it off." She gave the audience a smug wink. "Were there any, like, sparks? On the set? Because there've always been rumors about the infamous Dress Rehearsal on that shoot."

I gave Jackie another helpless look, and this time she copied mine before we both turned to let Alex handle this. That had always been our agreement: let Alex answer questions about the Dress Rehearsal, and he launched right into his spiel with the ease of many, many repetitions.

"I can clear that up, uh, Gretchen," he started in. "See, the movie was low-budget. Like, very low. Not even a million, and we put almost forty percent of it into that one love scene." The audience stirred. "Yes, guys, that's the truth about 'love in movies:' it costs money." That got a laugh, which seemed to shock Alex and certainly shocked me. "We hired an intimacy coordinator, a clinician named... Eichmann? Einmann?"

"Einhorn," Jackie put in. "She was Dr Einhorn. Jenn Einhorn; I'm still in touch with her."

"She advised Erik and Jacqueline at every step of the way. She was there at the rehearsals. And our makeup people were good: they knew prosthetics. The priority was to protect the dignity of the actors, and it worked."

"There are these things now, for sex scenes," I added, "and there's a brand name, but I forget it now. They're like thongs, thin thongs, but you stick them on to cover, like, genitals. We didn't have those on Cynthia Fades, but we had tape and that stretchy stuff you see on pantyhose."

"I never felt exploited, ever," Jackie piped up.

"So, the story on what Gretchen is calling the 'infamous' Dress Rehearsal? We weren't just rehearsing the actors, but the crew as well? So everything got filmed, and a little of the rehearsal footage made it into the final cut."

"We can tell," Jackie said softly, glancing at me. "Erik and I, we can tell if we watch the finished movie. We can tell what's the Dress Rehearsal, and what's the actual take." I didn't look at her; she was right, but she was being disingenuous. It was easy to tell the rehearsal footage from the take footage, because the completed film?

It was all the Dress Rehearsal. All of it.

"Here's what happened..." I sat back in my chair, remembering, very conscious of Jackie right next to me as I thought.

As I remembered.

* * *

Alex pulled Jackie over while the makeup people converged on my crotch. I watched with a strange sort of detachment, my dick deflating only very slowly from its uncomfortable position out of the camera's view, my balls still red from the squeeze of the prosthetic. I watched them talk together, low-voiced, while the makeup people manhandled me. They went about their jobs professionally, almost clinically, the harsh lights flashing off the lenses of Dr Einhorn's glasses as she hovered over me like a mother hen.

I watched as Alex and Jackie grew... not heated. Not that. They weren't mad at each other. But she was definitely getting emotional, standing there in her robe with her hand gripping his arm, her long face animated with exactly the same kind of intensity I'd seen just moments ago, as she'd glared up at me. Just before she'd leaned in to simulate sucking my nuts.

Just before Alex had yelled "Cut!" in fact, so that Makeup could get my junk all safely put away for the next part of the scene. Liability and all that.

I knew why I was feeling so detached. It always takes me a little while to get back out of character after the shooting stops. I'd been immersed in the scene: I'd been my character, and Jackie had been hers, and now that I was supposed to be Erik again it was taking me awhile to drift back into myself. "You okay?" one of the makeup women asked, lifting my penis out of the way so her colleague could get more cement onto the prosthetic.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I sighed, propped on my elbows while the two of them, swapping the low, professional murmurs of their trade, fluffed fake pubes on the root of a fake dick. Because lord forbid if my real skin ever showed up on camera.

"Want some water?" That was Dr Einhorn's low voice, the voice that always sounded like she was ready to have sex, and I smiled up at her glinting glasses.

"I'm good." I squinted through the lighting, over to where Jackie and Alex seemed to have come to some kind of decision: in any case, he was striding back to where Makeup was fussing over me, leaving Jackie standing there staring.

At me.

"Guys, can I get a sec?" he asked the makeup ladies, by then poised over my groin with their rubber cement almost ready to go. I was almost all the way soft again, thinking sourly of the soreness I'd have in my dick if the shoot ever ended and I got back to my half of the trailer. "Let me just talk to Erik a minute." The ladies looked at each other, then at my meat, then back at each other. "Please?"

"Is it the pubes?" one of them asked him. "We told you to get the more expensive pubes."

"It's not the pubes," he sighed, shooing them away. "Just... I just need a minute, then I'll come talk to you guys." We watched them pick up their toolbox and stalk off toward the meager craft services table, leaving Alex to drop his earphones down onto his neck and give me that tentative smile of his. "So. How's it going?"

"I mean, fine. I guess. Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I glanced over to the shadowy shape of Jackie, still motionless in her robe. "How'm I doing?"

"Well. Jackie's got concerns," he shrugged. I was never sure whether his diffidence was real, or just an elaborate act, but I usually erred on the side of real. "She's a little... a little worried. She has an idea, and we're going to give it a try. Since this is just the dress rehearsal, and all."

"Yeah?"

"She'll tell you about it." He looked relieved not to have to go into it. "I'm going to go set everything up with the crew. We might need another sheet. Ah, you need any water or anything?"

"I'm good." He drifted off in his usual way, meaning one moment he was there, engaged, and the next moment he was in a new world of his own. I saw one of the makeup women shrug, then stalk over and slide my prosthetic penis off my body. "Wait. What?"

"Just doing what I'm told, Erik."

I watched as she placed the thing carefully on the tray off to the side, leaving me with my dick drooping between my legs. I was still wondering what I should do with it when Jackie moved into the circle of the spotlights. "Hey." I went to pull the rumpled sheet up over my junk, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Erik, I just had your thigh on my cheek. I'm not sure you have to cover up." We both smiled. "So." She sank down to her knees on the mattress, her robe riding up her smooth thigh. She'd been cast, in part, for her legs. "You're not having a great time."

I blinked. "Huh? No! I'm fine," I protested.

"No," she replied firmly but quietly, glancing over at where Alex was huddling with the crew, "stop. I know you're not having a great time." She paused after that, her eyes huge and dark as they glued themselves to mine, and I couldn't do anything but swallow.

I knew what she meant now. She was talking about my dick.

"Listen," she went on, still quiet, "you go back to your trailer with blue balls every few hours. This can't be working for you. So it's not working for me. I don't want that. So... why don't we try to make it work?"

I cocked my head, and for the first time I felt the cold in the room. We'd rehearsed twice today, the constant stop-start-stop of life on a movie set, the two of us contorting ourselves into the positions Alex wanted the camera to see while we struggled to look natural as we kissed, fondled, and thrust. I'd been bashful, so bashful as we'd started last week, mortified at the thought that Jackie would get offended whether I got hard or not. I'd never met her before two weeks ago. But she'd been completely professional, hitting her marks, her face and body selling whatever she could, every time.

And now she was saying it wasn't working for her. "What do you mean?"

She glanced back over at where Alex was starting to send everyone back to work, and then her lips tightened in a secret little smile. "I mean," she said, bending low so that she could whisper, "why don't we just do what we feel like doing?" She held my gaze then, her smile tightening as I gasped. And I gasped because her fingers had found my balls once more, cupping me, rolling them gently even though the camera wasn't rolling. "You know. Try to make it work..." She trailed it off as a murmur in my ear, and then her lips were on my neck, trailing down, her hands still busy.

By the time Alex got the cameras rolling, his voice uncharacteristically hushed, I was sitting up on the bed with her, both of us nude, staring into each others' eyes between kisses that went deeper and hotter with each wet, tongue-filled try, our hands wandering. We'd spent days in rehearsal; I'd touched every part of her so many times that it had become pretty mechanical, but this was different.

She giggled as I flicked her nipple, my eyes widening as I watched it darken, then swell, then grow. It topped a breast of slim, firm perfection, filling my palm as she arched her back. She'd never arched her back before, but then we'd never sat up either: the script called for us to be lying down this whole time. But I wasn't really worrying about the script now, and every surge of her tongue into my mouth told me she wasn't either.

Sitting up had seemed natural, a way for my hands to caress her in three dimensions while giving my dick room to roam, for it had gone as stiff as I could remember it under her sure, capable hands. She'd touched me there before, of course, but always there had been the makeup ladies, hovering just off-set with their prosthetics, waiting to swoop in whenever things got too intense.

Not this time. This time they stayed over at craft services.

I spread my legs and she scooted in between, kneeling in front of me, her body curled into a tempting ball as she laid one hand on my cheek and the other deep beneath my nutsack. I surged in response, both of us flushing, smiling. "More of that," I urged quietly, my own fingers still twirling along her nipples, and she smiled back.