The Comedienne

//Author's Note the first: This story was co-authored by AwkwardMD.//

//Author's Note the second: This story contains darker tones, emotionally, and more graphic sexual content than most. It is not a romantic tumble in the sheets on a sunny Sunday afternoon. However, if you like your sex with a strong dose of catharsis and a fair bit more reluctance than standard, then maybe this is the story for you!//

I stood outside, shivering in my coat. It helped me look cute, but the light fabric was poor insulation against the cold. It barely covered below my waist, and my unusually-exposed cleavage not at all. To make matters worse, the small canopy in the alley gave woeful protection against the relentless, drizzling rain. I was well aware of what a pathetic sight I must look—the lonely smoker outside a comedy club at ten o'clock at night—but I didn't care.

"Got a light?" came a voice from what I'd assumed was empty darkness next to me, surprising me from my self-flagellations. I looked up and saw the owner of the voice was a man in his mid-thirties with longish, swept-back hair. A few strands had refused to join the others, choosing instead to frame his face, and he had at least a two-or-three-day growth of stubble. I couldn't believe he had gotten so close without me noticing him. He was hardly Batman. I sighed, as all this only seemed to underline, in angry red marker pen, how far off my game I was.

I was staring, assessing him, when I realized that he was waiting for a reply. Feeling caught out, I went with the first thing that came to mind. "Er, no. Sorry. I don't smoke."

He raised an eyebrow and glanced down to the lit cigarette in my hand.

I felt my cheeks burning, the only visual clue of the stupidity I felt inside, and I shrugged. "My first in over fifteen years, if you'll believe that." My voice sounded distant, even to me. I offered him the cigarette and noticed the amount of lipgloss on the filter. For a moment I focused on it, wondering how it had gotten there before I remembered my heavy Claire-applied make-up. I hoped he wouldn't notice. "Had to bum this from a couple who were leaving."

He smiled and took the cigarette from me, pulled one out from his pocket, and then used the tip of mine to light his. When he'd finished he handed my cigarette back to me.

I turned it over in my hand, looking at the burning end with the filter coated pink. It had been so hard to give up, and with a sigh I stubbed it out. Taking up smoking was not the answer I was looking for. Tonight was supposed to be about new beginnings, not a relapse into old habits.

"So what was the big occasion?" he asked.

"Huh?" I turned back to him. My mind felt clearer, and I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He was a lot better looking than I'd thought, somehow more dignified and sophisticated. I wondered if his unusual manner of speech played a part. "Where are you from?" I asked, not answering him.

"Los Angeles, originally, but spent some time in England. It kind of messed up my accent." He paused to rub his fingertips over his stubble. "Sort of Sean Connery meets Mark Ruffalo, or so I've been told," he said with a smile.

"I'm thinking more Bieber, if I'm honest," I said before I caught myself.

His eyes flashed with surprise, which turned to mock annoyance before a smile broke out on his face. Thankfully, he seemed to find my humor funny rather than offensive. "Beiber? Really?"

"Embrace it," I said, with an eyebrow cocked. "The girls go crazy for him."

"What about this girl?"

"I haven't been a girl for a long time, darling," I laughed. "Very much a woman now." I swept my hand up my body and then flat under my chin, emphasising my point.

He laughed again. "Okay, what about this woman then?"

"Afraid not." I said with a serious look before smiling again. "Beiber is my daughter's thing. I've always been more of a young Connery girl."

He smiled. "You like the suave, debonair thing? The smart guy in the smart suit?" He copied my hand movement, of moments ago, to show off his suit jacket.

"Yeah, that or the whole tear off your bikini and choke you with it thing," I said.

"Ah, the 60s," he said, with a laugh.

"Diamonds are Forever was seventy-one."

"Christ, you are hard to keep up with!" His smile reached his eyes.

"Are you even trying to keep up?" I countered.

"So, the cigarette," he prompted.

I frowned. "Thought you'd forgotten that question."

"Nope."

"Ask me later," I said, with a tease I didn't feel.

"Is there going to be a later?"

I grinned. "Well, if there isn't then I'm not going to have to tell you, am I?"

"But if there is, then you will," he retorted.

"Technically I didn't say I'd answer. I just asked you to ask me again." This was becoming fun.

"So there might be a later," he said with a smile.

"It's a possibility." I looked at his cigarette, lit and smoldering away. "You don't smoke either, huh?"

His smile was his only reply.

"Which means you came out to speak to me."

"Are you that full of yourself? There must be loads of reasons why a guy would ask a pretty girl —sorry, pretty woman— for a cigarette."

"Pretty Woman huh? Is this you asking if I'm a prostitute?" I watched him bristle before I disarmed him with a smile. "So, let's say you didn't come out to speak to me. That would mean you'd have gone through all the effort to come out here, ask for a light, stand in the rain, and then after all that, not bother smoking that cigarette?"

"Maybe you've distracted me."

"I certainly hope I have." I grinned. "So, Mr. I don't smoke but I ask for a cigarette anyway, what brought you out here?"

"You," he said.

I glanced at him and then away, looking down the alleyway to the parking lot beyond.

"You saw the show then?"

Just then, my friend Claire exploded out of the door behind us.

"There you are!" she said loudly, her voice impacting like a nuclear shockwave and flattening everything in close proximity. "What happened? Why didn't the MC say that thing about your dad like we'd talked about?" Then Claire's eyes reached my companion, and widened considerably. "And who is this handsome devil then?"

His smile widened. He turned to face Claire, away from me, and I was at the same moment both hurt and relieved.

"I'm James," he said.

Cute name, I thought.

"Hi James, I'm Claire. How long have you known Maggie?" Claire smirked, and added, "Just like her to keep something like you a secret."

"We just met!" I said, with a glare over James' shoulder.

Then her eyes lit up. "Did you see Maggie's spot? Wasn't she awesome? Maybe only a warm up, but a great start, huh? Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"Jesus Christ, Claire," I hissed under my breath.

"What?" Claire said, completely oblivious as usual.

"It was a fucking disaster," I said, sidestepping to talk around James.

"Don't be silly, Mags," Claire retorted. "I thought it was great. The bit about your tits was hysterical. What did you think, James?"

"Claire," I said, stopping James before he could start, "no one laughed. No one. I bombed. You don't need to soften the blow. I'm a big girl." The words came out harsher than I'd intended them to be, but Claire was characteristically unfazed.

"The audience liked you though," James said, surprising Claire so much that she turned her whole body to stare at him. "They listened! It's a big thing for the audience to like you."

"Whose side are you on?" Claire said narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you know about comedy?"

James actually backed up, with his hands held up innocently, and it brought a smile to my lips.

"He's actually right," I said, liking the idea of defending James. Maybe he'd show his appreciation afterwards with drinks, celebrating his acquittal together. My smile widened. It was a nice fantasy, but I forced myself back to reality with a shake. "Johnny Carson said it all begins with the audience liking you." I turned to James and smiled. "You thought they liked me?"

"Yeah, definitely. They listened, didn't heckle you, and they clapped at the end. That's a big deal," James said.

"Are you just saying that to get laid?" Claire blurted, which resulted in both James and I staring at her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Claire!" I said, "Remember what I was saying last week? You know? About you having no filter at all! And you remember what you said? You said, you'd try and work harder at not saying the wrong thing?"

"I just said that to shut you up," she said with a sly smile.

I turned to James and added, "Sorry about her. She just talks without thinking."

"I had noticed. Can I get you girls a drink?" He hooked a thumb at the door and raised his eyebrows. "Should be at the intermission by now, and the bar should be open again."

"Jack Daniels and Coke for me," I said, "and she'll have a vodka and orange."

"And," Claire added, "just cause we're taking your drinks doesn't mean either of us is going to sleep with you."

"Claire!!" I said again in frustration. I turned to James and gave him a pleading smile. "Would you give us a moment?"

"Sure. I'll see you at the bar." James smiled at both of us, clearly amused, and walked inside.

I waited until the door closed to round on my friend.

"Oh my fucking god, Claire! What are you doing?" I didn't sound as mad as I felt. I thought I should have been mad, but as the sound of my own voice played back in my head I sounded... nervous.

"Trying to get you laid?" Claire said. "Obviously."

"With him?"

"Do you see any other hot guys around? Maybe one with a hot friend... or two," Claire said with a wicked smile.

"I just met him, and—"

"And what? People fuck strangers all the time! I've seen it!"

"In porn maybe," I replied. "This isn't porn."

"It could be if you wanted it to be. You're single."

I held up my left hand. A leather glove covered my wedding ring, but you could still see the shape of it.

"Well, almost single," she conceded, with an exaggerated eye roll. "In, like, in a month or whatever."

"Claire," I sighed, "I'm flattered, honestly, but I don't think he's into me."

"Are you kidding?" Claire said with a laugh, "Why else would he come out here, in this shitty rain, apart from trying to talk to you? He must have seen your act, and your tits, thought you were hot, watched you run out the side door as soon as you came off, and followed you out! He choose to stand out here in the fucking rain to chat with you and miss the next act. What more proof do you need?"

"Maybe he just wanted a cigarette?" I pointed out.

"Stop being so..." Claire trailed off as she searched for the word. "Maggie," she decided. "Stop being so Maggie, just for once."

"Oh my fucking god, so your big advice is to stop being me!" I said, sounding exasperated but still with a smile. "Listen, I just died on my ass in there, okay? The last thing I want to think about is sucking some guys cock!"

Claire just smiled at me, not saying anything. The silence was more annoying than her speaking.

"What?" I said finally.

"Who said anything about sucking his cock?" she asked, with a grin, before turning and walking back inside the bar.

"Fucking bitch," I sighed, still smiling. I was so very thankful that Claire had insisted on coming, and was here to distract me and pick me back up.

I caught up with Claire at our booth. The house lights were up and the room was filled with the sounds of people chatting. The DJ was playing music in the background in an attempt to maintain the energy of the room. I scanned the bar for James but couldn't see him, which probably meant that he was buried in the throng of bodies clamoring for alcohol. Or he'd gone home.

"You need to calm it down with this guy, okay?" I said to Claire, as I sat down.

"Who, James?" Claire said looking at the bar.

"Yeah! Look, I know you think you're trying to help me, but I'm doing alright," I said.

"Doing alright huh?" Claire said, she folded her arms and smiled. "Doing alright?" She crossed her legs, denim jeans pulling tight around her hips, and pursed her lips. Her thick eyebrows, by far her most striking feature, burrowed inward at each other as she stared at me. "So tell me, Miss Doing Alright, when was the last time you got laid?"

"I don't need to get laid to be doing alright."

"You do when we are specifically talking about me setting you up with a guy to get you laid." Claire said with a smile.

"Oh my god Claire. Stop. Please." I tilted my head and stared at her, adding, "You aren't going to stop are you?"

"No," Claire said, smiling even wider. "That train already left the station."

"Jesus Christ," I said under my breath. "Okay, fine, just... behave." There was no way she was actually going to do that either, but at least she gave me a respectful nod.

"Just so I know, how long has it actually been?" Claire said.

I cocked my head to show her I had no idea what she was asking. She widened her eyes in return and I understood. How could she be talking about anything else? This was Claire.

"How is that relevant?"

"'I'm curious."

"I know you. If I tell you, you aren't going to be able to keep it a secret."

"Oooo," she said with a smirk. "Sounds like it's been a long time. Six months?" She leaned forward, eyebrows rising. Her jaw hung open. "A year?"

"And here you are, ladies," James said, placing the drinks on the table. He'd managed to carry all three glasses across from the bar without spilling any. He slid them each in front of us, and I breathed a sigh of relief for the distraction. Claire gestured to the seat opposite us, and he sat down with a smile

"These better not be spiked," I said with a grin. The whiskey burned my nostrils as I raised it to my lips.

"I was just trying to get Mags to tell me when she'd last gotten laid," Claire blurted out, and I spit half a mouthful of my beautiful Jack and Coke across the table. James smiled broadly. I liked what a smile did to his face.

"I knew you weren't going to behave," I said at Claire, as I took a napkin to my chin.

They both looked at me in anticipation.

"What?" I said, taking another sip of my drink. "I'm not going to tell you." Neither of them looked away, but I ignored them and took another sip of my drink.

"Did you know that Maggie's dad was a famous comedian?" Claire blurted.

I put down my drink, glared at Claire, and kicked her under the table.

"What?" she said to me with a look of pure innocence, and then turned back to James. "He was. That's where Mags gets her funny side."

"Not so funny apparently," I said in a quiet voice, but if either of them heard they didn't acknowledge it.

"I did, actually," James said. "I was a fan of his. I saw her name on the Facebook post advertising tonight. I googled her, and sure enough saw that she was his daughter. Booked a ticket two minutes later."

"I'm in the room," I pointed out.

"Wow, so you are, like, full-on stalking Mags?" Claire said with a look of pure delight.

"Yeah, kind of," James said, looking sheepish. "I think I'd have seen the family resemblance even if I hadn't looked you up. Different comedy, though."

"You know, telling me I look like my famous dad is not a great panty-wetter."

"Isn't laughter supposed to be an aphrodisiac?" Claire countered.

"Yeah, A, if you are funny and B, if you are trying to fuck a girl," I said quickly. "I'm not sure it works otherwise."

"I found you funny," James said, and my heart leapt.

"You are just saying that to get laid," I fired back, feeling mostly confident that I'd covered my flattered reaction.

"Will it work?" James asked.

"Oh my god, you're both awful," I said. I glared at them in turn, but they just stared back with obvious anticipation. "Why don't the two of you get it out of your systems and go bone each other while I sit here feeling sorry for myself."

They both looked at each other, smiled, then laughed. I grinned and sipped my drink, feeling happy in their reactions. It always felt good to make others smile.

"Can I ask you something about your dad," James asked, suddenly looking very serious. He looked just as handsome when serious as when laughing.

"Sure," I said, feeling curious.

"Did he really know Johnny Fontaine?"

Claire sat up suddenly and looked at me, with all her attention now on me.

"Yeah, they knew each other," I said with a smile, "They weren't, like, super close, but they were friendly. I think Johnny had a soft spot for my dad."

"You never told me about this," Claire said.

"Maybe if you weren't so focused on getting me laid, you'd find out some of this stuff." I smirked and swirled the rest of my drink within the glass. "And yeah. He was at their wedding. He randomly shows up in some of the photos, lurking in the background. It's kind of surreal."

"Hey, getting you laid has only been my focus since I found out how things have been for you lately," Claire said.

James appeared not to hear. "And is 'the' story true?" he asked, now in full fan-mode.

"Which one?"

"The one when your dad was eating dinner in the same place as Johnny."

I smiled at the memory. "He always said it was, and they both used to tell the story."

Claire was positively bouncing. "What story?"

"You should tell her," James said. "This is awesome."

I looked at them both, sighed, and put down my drink.

"Okay, so this was before my dad met my mom. He was pretty bad at dating back then, and he finally got a girl he liked out on a date. They're sitting there eating, at this little Italian restaurant, when Johnny Fontaine comes in. Now, this girl had heard that dad maybe had some friends and so she says" —I cleared my throat, pitched my voice up an octave, and added a nasal Jersey accent— "Hey do you know Jawny Fontaine, Oy'd love t'meet 'im."

I smiled, watching their faces light up, and went back to my regular speaking voice for a moment. "Dad, ready to do anything he can to secure the deal, gets up and goes over to Johnny's table. Hey Johnny, he says. He was always super respectful to Johnny, remember, because Johnny was a connected guy. Johnny, look, my lady friend over there would love to meet you. You'd be doing me a huge favor if you could come over and say hello."

"You sound just like him," James said, his eyes wide. "That is uncanny."

"Johnny looks at my dad," I said, continuing. "He smiles, and says Yeah, sure. Real smooth, you know? Wink and a smirk. Maybe even gave him the finger gun. He used to do that, way back before anyone else. So my dad goes back over to his table and tells the girl that he'll come over."

They were both hanging on every word, and so were the couple at the table next to us.

"So the starter is finished, then the main course and dessert, and still no Johnny. My dad is sweating bullets thinking that Johnny isn't coming. Worse, he's thinking that the girl is losing interest in him, thinking that maybe he doesn't know Johnny after all. All his plans are falling apart, right? Another lonely night on the horizon."

I glanced around again, I still had them. All of them, this was good fun, I couldn't help wishing my set had gone this well.

"So finally he sees Johnny coming over from across the restaurant, and my dad breathes a huge sigh of relief. Johnny comes up, stands by the table and he's playing the game. He's laying it on thick, right? Hi Don, he says, with that velvet delivery. How are you doing? And who is this lovely lady?"