Playtime

[All characters in this story who are involved in serious sexual situations are at least 18 years old - PS]

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

Christine stared at her computer screen, searching for inspiration. She had extracted this quote from the movie, and, searching for it on the Internet, had quickly discovered that it was from a poem by T. S. Eliot. She had to write a short synopsis on themes from The Magus for her Film Studies course, although the exact outline for it was to be given this coming week, and she was somewhat stumped for an idea; maybe using something from the quote to explain the movie might work? The film itself was very confusing, and controversial. Her professor had explained that it had been a critical failure when it was released. So much so that in the lecture notes there was a quotation from Woody Allen: "If I had to live my life again, I'd do everything the same, except that I wouldn't see The Magus."

"How do you write about something you don't even understand?" she thought to herself, becoming quite frustrated. She had thought that Film Studies would be more or less a bird course; she only needed three more credits to finish her degree, but had quickly discovered, over the course of the first few weeks, that nothing could be further from the truth!

Of course this wasn't the only thing that perplexed her, as she sat at her desk in her bedroom. Her roommate, Jill, also fell into that category. When she had first met her, after responding to an ad to share an apartment posted at the Adult Learning Centre, she thought they might have a lot in common. After all they were both doing night courses, and working towards a degree, while holding down the proverbial "McJob". But events soon proved her wrong. Jill's driving ambition, at least as far as the non-academic portion of her life was concerned, was to get an education of the sort that involved lying naked on a bed with your legs wide apart, so a variety of young men could get closely acquainted with, and take advantage of, your female anatomy!

Christine had never met someone who was so overtly promiscuous. In some respects it quite upset her. Naturally cautious, she was astonished at some of the male specimens Jill brought home on many an evening, and the sounds that came through the paper thin walls of the apartment from her roommate's bedroom.

It wasn't that Christine was a prude, just that she thought Jill's behavior was bordering on reckless. Who knew where the latest hunk Jill was using to satisfy her female desires had been, or had done, and to whom?

But otherwise, over the course of the first two months of shared accommodation, she had been an ideal roommate, doing more than her fair share of the cooking and cleaning, and always leaving the common areas of the apartment neat and tidy.

Christine had moved out of the house at the end of August; things at home were just no longer tenable. Christine was the product of a teenaged pregnancy, and for as long as she could remember her parent's marriage had been rocky ... to say the least! The final downhill slide, in terms of a life at home, had started after her parents had divorced around the end of third year, which had upset Christine enormously. It was probably why she ended up on academic probation after the first semester of her fourth year ... she just couldn't seem to focus on school. At least the university let her keep the credits where she had achieved at least a C average. Since she had to take the rest of the academic year off, she got a job as a hostess at a high end restaurant, which wasn't very difficult for a very attractive young woman like Christine. She had no illusions; her role at the restaurant was purely decorative, but it paid at least semi-decently when you counted your share of the tips, and the work, which mainly consisted of greeting and seating the patrons, setting tables, and taking telephone calls for reservations, wasn't particularly taxing.

When she came off academic probation she decided to finish up her remaining credits at night school, and to keep the job; she liked having the money, and she certainly enjoyed having her own car for the first time! She had selected the Film Studies course because it was given on a Monday night, when the restaurant was closed.

The decision to leave home had been difficult, but it was the only way of avoiding the problem with her mother ... and more specifically the new, very much younger boyfriend she was reliving her youth through. Of course it wasn't surprising that her mother had found a boyfriend, Christine had clearly inherited her fine features from her mother, who, at not quite forty and still very slim and attractive, could pass for a much younger woman.

As for the boyfriend, Christine didn't like him from the moment she met him, and even less so when she walked into the kitchen by accident one evening; she was supposed to be at work but her shift had been shortened, and discovered her mother, stark naked from the waist down and bent forward over a table, while her equally partly nude paramour energetically fucked her from behind ... it took a few seconds before they even noticed her ... and only a few seconds more for Christine to make a hasty exit!

"And 'fuck' is definitely the right word for what they were doing," Christine said to herself, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the incident, "because those two would never even be remotely accused of 'making love' ... it's all about sex ... sex ... and more sex!"

As embarrassing as the kitchen incident was, the absolute last straw was the ridiculous way her mother was now dressing, or perhaps more correctly, undressing! Not that it was Christine's place to be judgemental, but her mother's bare breasts were easily seen by anyone caring to look underneath a variety of low cut tops, or mostly unbuttoned blouses. And lately she was wearing skirts so short that not even a hooker would be caught dead in them, and even worse, nothing underneath; so it was pretty difficult, whenever she sat across from you, not to be treated to any number of disgustingly graphic displays of her mother's totally exposed female anatomy ... completely shaved no less! Who did she think she was, Sharon Stone? No doubt the boyfriend was the intended audience for all this exhibitionism.

"Sheesh!" Christine thought, giving her head a little shake, and feeling her cheeks burning as she recollected her mother's wanton behavior ... and attire, or more properly, the lack of it, "I've read that divorced women can act a little crazy trying to re-affirm their sexuality ... but my own mother is re-writing the textbooks."

So it was definitely time to move out, and to let her mother act out all her pent up fantasies without Christine as an audience.

"Hopefully it's just a phase," Christine mused, nodding her head sadly, and feeling very much the parent, not the child.

* * *

After about another hour of trying to twist T. S. Eliot's words into some type of theme for a paper, Christine finally gave up. She'd go and ask the professor for some guidance next week before class ... it seemed the only way. She got up and went out to use the washroom. She had broken her life-long habit of changing into a nightgown and then preparing for bed, because her mother's stud had a nasty habit of coming upstairs just when she was about to have to walk down the hall to her bedroom ... probably to catch a glimpse of Christine's naked body through the semi-sheer material. He had made it quite clear during several very awkward conversations that he would be happy to perform the same sexual services for Christine as he was already doing for her mother ... as if!

After finishing in the washroom, she returned to her room to change for bed. Slipping out of her jeans and top, she then undid her bra and lowered her panties, tossing both of them into the laundry basket she kept on the floor of the closet. Stopping for a moment, she contemplated herself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. At just about 23, she was, she knew, about as perfect as she ever would be. Her light brown hair cascaded down to the middle of her back in a series of gentle tendrils, framing her face, whose features had been the envy of all of her girlfriends even before adolescence. For work, or the occasional party, she would wear some lipstick in a shade of modest pink, along with mascara, eye liner and soft blue eye shadow to emphasize the colour of her eyes. She rarely used any type of foundation; her clear, virtually perfect skin had a certain natural glow all by itself!

Looking downwards, she contemplated her breasts. They weren't anything remarkable, just a nice medium size. Finally, there was the slightly darker puff of curly brown hair at the intersection of her legs, not quite concealing the warm, soft, sensitive valley that lay a little lower down. No young man had explored there so far; hopefully that would change soon!

It was hard to say why she was still a virgin ... it wasn't as if she didn't have all of the same burning desires as a Jill did, but so far she hadn't acted upon them ... except of course by herself in bed when it just got too, too urgent, and something had to be done about it!

As an adolescent, she only seemed to attract very cocksure guys who were quite full of themselves, and although she had dated quite a bit, she had never let things go much beyond kissing. However, towards the end of high school, with one boy in particular, she had been very tempted to give in to her biological urges, but something stopped her.

"Maybe I just didn't want to end up like my mother," she often mused to herself, "a pregnant high school dropout!"

Quite a few of the men who came into the restaurant, especially on the luncheon shift when they didn't have female escorts, tried to start a conversation with her, or even boldly suggested a date. But she never accepted these offers, even though many of them were not only attractive, but clearly successful ... or they wouldn't be dining in such an expensive place. Perhaps she sensed somehow that they were all exactly like the boys she had dated, just too very sure of themselves.

She had rather expected that she would meet and fall for someone at university, and nature being what it was, enter into her first sexual relationship. But since she lived at home, and commuted to classes each day, she wasn't very involved in the social side of campus life. And she found the work difficult, nothing at all like high school ... so much so that she spent most of her spare time in the library trying to keep up with the rest of the students ... which meant that she didn't belong to any type of club or activity. And as far as the bar scene was concerned, she could barely set one foot inside a door before some guy was trying to hit on her, so she just stayed away, except for the odd time when a few girlfriends dragged her there against her better judgement.

Turning away from these thoughts with a sigh, she retrieved a nightgown from her bureau. Dressing quickly, she hopped into bed and turned out the light.

The last thing she thought about, given her pathetic social life, and before she fell asleep, was Scarlett O'Hara's famous last line: "After all ... tomorrow is another day!"

* * *

But tomorrow ... and tomorrow ... and the tomorrow after that, didn't bring any change. Her mother had called her several times to see if she was alright ... and her father had treated her to lunch to celebrate her new found independence.

Finally Monday came, and she spent most of it reviewing the ideas she had finally come up with to discuss with the professor. She had e-mailed him a request to see him before the lecture, and he had responded with his Monday office hours, suggesting she pick a time during the day if it didn't interfere with work ... otherwise he would see her after class.

She responded by suggesting a late afternoon time; then she could go shopping and grab something to eat before class. Later, she left her apartment and walked to the subway station, parking downtown was very expensive, and got on a train. Riding along she reminded herself that most of the shopping would be of the window variety, as she was on something of a budget now that she had to pay rent along with the upkeep of her car.

She found the professor's office without difficulty, and knocked politely on the open door ... her professor was seated at his desk; the rest of the office was awash with books, papers and many, many DVD's.

"Please come in Ms. Carlisle," he responded, giving her a smile.

The conversed about the movie for a while, and then Christine presented her ideas to an approving nod.

"That's why I use this film," he explained, "because despite the very fine cast, it's far from a classic; not even very good, truth be told ... but the confusion of the Nicholas character over what is real, and what isn't, makes students think ...which helps them learn about how to analyse a movie ... especially a difficult one like this. I get far too many papers written by Film Studies students who are just regurgitating the plot ... that's not what this is about ... it's about trying to understand what the screen writer and director are attempting to convey as they tell a story through the actors ... what are the metaphors or themes that they are suggesting to the audience?"

"I always give the class a week to flounder around on this movie," he continued with a chuckle, "and then tonight I'll be announcing that this will be a group paper ... whoever gets you in their group will be lucky, with those ideas ... it will be interesting to see which one you and your colleagues choose."

* * *

When she got to the small lecture room later on she saw a flip chart with 4 sets of names on it.

"Those must be the groups," she decided to herself, as she went up to it.

The professor had mischievously named each group after an incident from the movie, and seemed highly amused at the commotion the appearance of the chart was making.

There were 21 students in the class, so one group had six members, the rest five. The professor explained about the groups, and then suggested that they recess for the balance of lecture period to get themselves organized to start the project ... there would still be a short written synopsis on a theme from the movie to be handed in, along with a presentation to the rest of the class by each group. He had already passed out an outline of the activities the groups should consider when they convened, and had also arranged for some small meeting rooms on another floor of the building where they could start their work in privacy.

When they got to their room, one of their group, a woman who was quite a bit older than the rest of them, took charge, introducing herself as Marie, and explaining that she was a single mother who was trying to complete her degree as a mature student.

Further introductions followed. There was a nice looking brunette, Caitlin, who had graduated, but wanted to change her major to Theatre Arts, and needed this course, and a couple of others, to accomplish this. A boy about the same age as Christine, or maybe a little older, Alan, explained that he had originally taken a 3 year arts program, and was now trying to upgrade it to a 4 year degree, with the permission of the registrar because his marks had been good. He was hoping to apply to law school. He was working at what he laughingly described as a "brain dead" job during the day while he did this.

Finally there was another boy, Matt, again seemingly around Christine's age, who appeared rather shy; he averted his eyes whenever Christine looked at him. He confessed to the group that he had a Bachelor of Finance degree and was a financial analyst. He was taking the course for personal reasons, because he had always had an interest in films; it was sort of a hobby.

The best news about her group posting, Christine quickly decided, was that there were two, hopefully eligible, guys she would be working with. Alan was perhaps the better looking of the two, with dark eyes and dark hair and an athletic looking build. He was also outgoing, making jokes and gesturing with his hands when he spoke. Matt was tall, well over 6 feet, and slim, with brown eyes and light brown hair. You could tell that he wouldn't be the person that would care to guide the group, and would need to be drawn into participation. However, Christine decided, considering him out of the corner of her eye, he had a very good degree, and probably a good job ... he was certainly nicely dressed for a night course.

"If they are both taken," Christine thought to herself with a grimace, "I'll slit my wrists!"

After a short discussion, they decided to make Marie their group chair. She led the five of them through the professor's agenda, until they were interrupted as he came into the small conference room to see how they were doing.

"Ms. Carlisle has some very interesting ideas," he said, "which she shared with me earlier today. I don't want to stifle anyone else's creativity, but you should certainly consider them, they are all quite original, and any one of them would make an excellent theme for a presentation."

Christine blushed as the others looked her way; she wasn't used to being the centre of academic approbation ... quite the opposite.

When the professor was gone Marie asked Christine to explain what she had developed. Once she had read them out from her notes, a lively discussion on the merits of each one ensued ... with even Matt offering his point of view in a careful tone of voice.

Once one of the ideas had been selected, the group feeling it would lead to the best presentation, Marie divided up the roles and responsibilities.

"Alan," she directed with a bit of a laugh, "I think you should give part of the presentation, since you seem to like to talk anyway."

Alan responded with a large grin; and you could tell he wouldn't mind being centre stage at all!

"I'm a terrible presenter," Marie confessed, "so let's leave me out of this part of the project ... Christine, Caitlin ... who would like to assist him?"

Caitlin volunteered, which suited Christine perfectly, she didn't like making presentations either.

"So here's what we'll do," Marie said, "Christine, Matt and I will prepare a draft synopsis ... bullet points for a start ... and then I'll forward it to everyone for review. We have all next Monday night to finalize it, and at the same time Alan and Caitlin can start on the presentation. If they need more time, which they probably will, they can meet separately ... that should make the workload fairly even ... is that all right with everyone?"

There was collective agreement on the plan, so given that it was already almost 9, they decided to adjourn.

"Marie," Christine suggested, "unless you and Matt have to leave maybe we could start on the synopsis now?"

"OK," Marie replied, "but would you mind if we went to my place ... it's not far away, 10 minutes ... so I can send my babysitter home ... Caitlin, Alan, you're welcome to join us."

"I can't tonight," Alan said, "my fiancé is expecting me to pick her up."

"Damn," Christine thought to herself, "one down!"

"I have something due for tomorrow night," Caitlin said apologetically, "I'm afraid I have to go too."

"Matt?"

"Fine by me."

"Let's go then."

* * *

He three of them got off the subway after a short ride, and followed Marie as she led them to her apartment. The building was old, but clean, Christine noticed. Marie invited them in, and promptly paid the babysitter and sent her home.

"Just one child?" Matt asked politely, obviously trying to make conversation.