Walk On

British English spelling and grammar.

All fiction, though I reference some real movies and actors. I hope this effort will at least satisfy the 'It needs a proper ending' brigade. Feel free to write your own sequel. I won't.

***

Walk on

Ian was waiting at the side door of the theatre when Pearl burst out and leapt into his arms.

"Wasn't that awesome?" she cried.

"You were awesome!" he laughed.

"I've been with BADS for years, but never experienced such a standing ovation!"

"It was all for you, babe; their favourite leading lady."

Most English towns have an amateur dramatic society. And they're usually called LADS, SADS and so on. The name of this town doesn't matter. Let's just say it begins with B.

As Ian and Pearl started up the street, there was an explosion of noise behind them as more of the cast and backstage staff spilled out.

"Coming for a drink?" someone called.

It had been the last night of the play.

"Sure, why not?" they said and waited while more of the crew piled out. A man approached and spoke to Pearl.

"Are you Pearl Astley?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Please take my card and call me over the weekend."

He handed it over and melted away into the night. The rest of the gang swarmed around them and they all invaded the nearby pub which, unsurprisingly, was called The Stage Door. Over the next couple of hours several members of the audience stopped by their tables and offered congratulations. Two even asked Pearl if she'd sign their programmes.

Next morning Ian and Pearl had hangovers. She couldn't tolerate much alcohol so hers was worse. They stood at their coffee machine waiting for it to stop gurgling. Then took their mugs to the dining table and made the same 'oomph!' noise as they sat. It made them laugh.

"So, what was the business card all about?" asked Ian.

"What business card?"

"That guy in the street -- just before we went in the pub."

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten all about him."

Pearl searched her handbag.

"No, it's not here. I must have lost it, or thrown it away."

Ian smiled. She tended to be a little scatter-brained and naïve. Only when she was playing a character was she sharp. She often irritated Ian with her poor memory, but once on stage she was word perfect. When they'd first met, his mother described her as easily led. But he took that with a pinch of salt; no girl would ever be good enough for Mrs Astley's son. He went into the hall and felt through her pockets; certain he'd seen her put the card in one.

"It was in your jacket." he said, handing it over.

"Was it really? I could have sworn I put it my bag."

She read it.

"He seems to be some sort of agent." she said.

"Yeah, that's the impression I got. I'm guessing he saw the play, and got your name from the programme."

"Do you think I should call him?"

"Why are you asking me? You know you're going to anyway. Finish your coffee and find out what he wants. I'm going for a run."

When Ian got back, he asked how the call had gone.

"Great! I was on the phone with him for ages. We only finished ten minutes ago. You're just in time for eggs and bacon; let's eat first and I'll tell you all about it."

Soon they were on the sofa with more coffee.

"There's a major film company making a movie about an assassin, and they need to do location filming. They've chosen our town. That's why the agent has been scouting around, and why he came to our play."

"Surely they've already got their cast." said Ian.

"They have; Brendon Summers is starring, but this guy says they need extras."

"Brendon Summers; is he the star in 'London Calling'?"

"Yes. I probably won't get to see him though."

"And they're interested in you?"

"Yes. Here's how it works." she said. "Extras, usually in scenes in streets and public spaces, get paid £100 a day. The downside is they need to be available for the whole day and may spend most of it sitting around doing nothing. The upside is they pay them even if they don't get to work that day. The agent made it clear that extras do not get spotted by directors or casting. That's a Hollywood myth."

"I thought so."

"But there are several walk-on parts where your face and or body appear in the movie, and you might get noticed. Not all those parts have been cast. They're paying £150 a day for the walk-ons, and £250 if you get to speak. He says - his name is Jim by the way - that some of the minor scenes are constantly updated so I might get a couple of lines. They're holding auditions Tuesday afternoon and evening."

"Wow! Before we know it, even more people will be asking for your autograph!"

Tuesday arrived and Pearl knocked off work an hour early. She was employed by an estate agency and sales were slack. Her boss was a big fan of amateur dramatics and had once played the male lead opposite her. He said she could have some time off if anything came of this. She hurried back to her old theatre, where she learned that BADS was being paid a handsome fee for lending the theatre to the film company, who would turn it into studio sets. They had also given permission for their props and costumes to be borrowed. Business card Jim was nowhere to be seen and she was ushered to a chair opposite the casting director and his assistant. She sat and waited.

"Pearl Astley?" asked the director.

"That's me."

"I'm informed you have some acting experience."

And so it progressed. She was getting good vibes. Once he had enough background info, he called for a cameraman who rolled his equipment up behind the director. It was pointing straight at Pearl and, presumably from some signal, bright lights came on.

"There's a short scene where a man flirts with a waitress. We aren't sure if there will be any dialogue. Please stand up and say what you think the waitress might say."

"This flirting; has he touched me, or just spoken?"

"Ah. Let's imagine you bent over in front of him and he got a glimpse up your skirt. He says something like 'Beautiful legs' but does not touch you."

"Do I appreciate his compliment? Or am I annoyed?"

"Another good question; try both."

She stood and turned to the chair she'd just vacated.

"That's nice of you to say so sir. But it's a good thing you can't see how they're aching. I've been on my feet all day."

She looked at the camera and said "Or" then turned to the imaginary actor again.

"It would be more acceptable if you directed your comments to the chef sir. I only serve the food."

The assistant turned to him and spoke quietly.

"I was expecting 'Naughty, naughty' or 'Look but don't touch'. She's certainly got imagination. And she didn't pay any attention to us, or the camera."

The casting director stood and walked up to Pearl.

"I'm Nat, and you're very good."

They finally shook hands.

"You asked all the right questions, and your responses were good. Jim was right about you. If you've got what it takes, we might even develop this waitress scene."

"Thanks." said Pearl.

He went on to talk through possible scenarios. Then he brought in a stage hand to stand in as the actor. They were to develop the scene where she responded favourably.

"Two last things." he said, sitting down again.

"And then?" asked Pearl.

"And then we can sign you up for a walk-on; maybe more. First, I want you to kiss this guy. You're an actress, so do it properly. You ..." he pointed at the stage hand, "... You're the star and she's been encouraging you. Kiss her like you want to see how far she'll go!"

The guy grabbed Pearl in the classic Hollywood pose; dipping her over his left arm. Then he kissed her; his right hand low on her hip. She knew he would make the most of this. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and his hand dug into her hip. It moved inwards and his thumb slid round to the front of her thigh; it was pushing against the edge of her panties, well below the waistband.

Yes, she was an actress, and had done love scenes before. She'd even done them with amateur chancers who went too far on the night. Pearl knew the best way to get through it was to actually enjoy it. She kissed him back and sucked his tongue in; her fingers playing with his hair. But when his thumb pressed too close to her pussy, she pushed him off.

"Enough! You want any more, take me to your room!"

Nat clapped and laughed, then looked at the stage hand.

"OK. You can get back to work now. We'll let you know!"

When he'd left, grinning, Nat said "One last thing. I want you to take your dress off."

"And why would that be?" she frowned.

"This groping and flirting with the waitress has given me an idea. I can see it fitting in with the scenes where Bren has to lay low for a while. His character would be on a high after the successful assassination. I imagine him hooking up with a waitress for a one night stand. But if it all starts with him admiring your legs, I need to see them. That dress is too long for a waitress. Lifting it above your waist will suffice."

"Well ..."

"How was your audition babe?"

Pearl told him everything; including the outrageous kiss. Ian laughed.

"I can hardly blame him for trying it on. You're gorgeous!"

"Then I had to lift my dress."

"What?"

"It's all right. The casting guy wanted to see my legs. I was wearing this summer dress and a waitress would be in something shorter. If they write my scene into the screenplay, Brendon Summers is supposed to admire my legs."

"The star himself?"

"The very same. It all starts with my legs. They can use stand-in tits and arses for the big stars, but with walk-ons they make do with what they've got; hence the brief inspection. Apparently mine are very shapely!"

"No argument from me."

"There's no need to worry Ian. He was very professional about it, and his female assistant was nearby. I did show my underwear when BADS did 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'. And I showed more than that on our holiday in Corfu!"

"True."

"Next time they want me, I have to wear something shorter. They suggest a pleated skirt.

"And black suspenders and stockings?"

"No. This is mainstream movie; not a porn flick!"

"So should I be worried about you flirting with, and kissing your heart-throb?"

"It's a bit late if you are; I've signed the contract now. Of course being a member of the cast may mean nothing. I may end up on the cutting room floor."

"That's ok, as long as there's no-one on top you!"

"Please don't make jokes. This is the biggest moment of my acting life. If you're finding it difficult to trust me, think of the money. I'll be coming away with at least a thousand from this, even if I do get edited out."

"Sorry, I'm really happy for you. But if you were in my shoes, I'm sure you'd feel a bit uncomfortable. You've been lusting after Brendon Summers for years."

"I have not lusted after him Ian. I've admired his acting, and enjoyed his films. I'm an actress too, and have kissed guys on stage plenty of times. This will be no different."

"I think it will be different." he said.

Pearl thought about it.

"OK. I guess it will." she laughed. "He is gorgeous! But it's still only work. There's no crime in enjoying your work is there? Don't tell me that my kissing a movie star and getting a grand for it is a bad thing."

"Of course it isn't. You have fun."

"Ah, Pearl." said Nat. "We may not need you after all."

"But we signed a contract."

"True. But that only guarantees your rate of pay. We'll pay you £250 for today of course and the same for Tuesday."

"What changed?"

"Brendon has a clause in his contract about love scenes. Apparently he's had problems in the past. One actress kept eating garlic before they kissed. We didn't think it applied to walk-ons, but he insists."

"So, he gets to choose."

"Yes. There are a couple of others in the running. If it was up to me I wouldn't even consider them -- they're both lightweights. But the star has the final say."

"So I'm up against two?"

"Actually, you're up against me next!" boomed a voice approaching from the gloom.

"Brendon!" said Nat. "I wasn't expecting you in yet!"

"Hi Nat, have I just seen one of our candidates out there wearing ripped jeans and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt?"

"Yes, she's Maria somebody."

"Scratch her. Dressed like that, she's not taking this seriously." He turned to Pearl. "And which one are you?"

"I'm Pearl Astley, and I hate Mickey Mouse!"

Brendon laughed out loud.

"I like you already!"

The assistant director arrived and they set up the scene and he brought in a hand-held camera.

"We won't bother with the restaurant set-up for this. We're only interested in the kiss."

('Me too!' thought Pearl)

The director turned to the cameraman.

"Full length shot of Brendon sitting in the chair. He's already spoken to the waitress and, as she passes him, he pulls her onto his lap. They kiss, and you slowly zoom in on their faces, ok?"

"Got it." he nodded.

"You two -- keep kissing while the camera pans down to Brendon's hand. It slides under her skirt."

"Outside her thighs or between them?" asked Bren.

"Between them; you're about to ask to stay the night in her room. Keep kissing while the camera pans back and when your faces are in shot the second time, I want you to part. Then we'll zoom in on Pearl's face."

"I guess I'm happy about this, right?" she asked.

"You are. That's why I want a close-up; imagine his hand has just groped you; I want your reaction to that."

They began. Pearl wasn't used to cameras and part of her tried to keep track of where it was. But within seconds, she was engulfed in the kiss. Ian was right; she had lusted after this man for years. Their tongues entwined and she told herself Brendon was doing more than just playing a part; that he really wanted her. Suddenly, he pulled his face away and, at the same moment, his hand reached her panties. There was no time to worry he was going too far. Her thighs opened of their own accord and he gripped her pussy firmly. One, possibly two, fingers stroked the flimsy material, and pushed it into the cleft. She gasped.

"Excellent!" said the director.

Pearl got up, her skirt falling back into place. Brendon stood next to her and put his hand round her waist.

"Send the third one away Nat. This is definitely the waitress for me!"

"Could you wait over there a moment Pearl?"

She went and sat in the dark.

"Look Bren, the screenwriter has come up with an idea. How does this sound? We get a phone call delaying the next stage of your escape. The London element think they're being watched, so we need to sit tight for tonight. Your assassin stays in this hotel, but in the waitress' room -- that way he doesn't have to register. The scriptwriter will knock out some lines for you and next morning we find alternative transport for the next stage of your escape. You decide to take her with you. She'll be extra cover; they won't be looking for a couple."

"That's fine by me. How big is her part going to get? Is she getting on the ferry with me? Does she still have a speaking part in Amsterdam?"

"No. You'll ditch her at Harwich. Very callous; she'll be heart-broken."

"Well I'm still in the show."

"I thought it was a done deal." said Ian.

"That was only for the pay rate. I by-passed two other hopefuls today and got another flirting scene with Brendon."

"That wouldn't stretch your acting skills much, would it?"

"Don't be like that. I'm going to be in a real movie."

"Sorry babe. It's all come as a bit of a shock. I'm delighted for you, honestly. Let's open a bottle of wine."

"Maybe later; I have an early start tomorrow."

Pearl wanted to avoid any more movie discussion. She didn't like telling lies, but didn't like Ian's questioning attitude either. And there was no way she was going to tell him that Brendon Summers had helped himself to a serious grope through her panties.

Next morning she was ready to leave while Ian was still in bed, and woke him with a cup of coffee.

"You're in jeans?"

"Sure. It doesn't matter what I wear today; we're shooting an actual scene. They'll provide a costume for me."

"Well have a good time."

It was before seven when she arrived and she was ushered into a makeshift dressing room. There, a middle-aged woman told her to strip; she squeezed into a pair of jeans.

"What's the point? They're almost the same as the ones I took off."

"Almost isn't good enough." the lady replied. "Future shots will ensure they're the same. People notice differences."

Soon she was outside, wearing a leather bomber jacket.

"Just a quick shot of you leaving next morning -- while we've got the early light." said James. He was the director; Pearl wouldn't be seeing the casting guy again.

"Pearl; you smile and say 'Ready' -- nothing else."

She was led to Brendon who was standing by a big motorbike, and wearing biker leathers. With the main camera behind him, he put a crash helmet on her. Then tapped it and asked if she was ready.

"Ready."

"That's this scene completed. The assassin has stayed the night with you. Now he's taking you to Harwich. Bikers are less likely to be stopped. Now we go back to the bedroom."

Pearl was quickly redressed as a waitress. It was a standard uniform and she was impressed that the size was perfect.

"Right, first I want last night as you go to bed. Then, we use this same setting for the following morning; just change the lighting. Then you, Pearl, can go home. Stand by for another early start tomorrow."

"There's not much room." observed Brendon.

"There isn't supposed to be; you'll just have to snuggle up. This is where our waitress lives in; hence the single bed. The first shot is the two of you at the end of the bed."

The cameraman was squatting behind her for a low angle shot. Soon Pearl was basking in yet another kiss with her heart-throb. No need for acting here. He slipped his hands down to the hem of the dress and lifted it. A thrill like an electric shock ran through her as he squeezed her buttocks and his fingers slid under the waistband of her thong. She could get to like this film business.

"Cut!" the director shouted.

They parted and he stormed up to them and lifted her dress to the waist. He hooked a finger under the front of her thong and pulled it away from her. It looked as if he was staring at her pussy. In fact he was.

"What the hell's this? I said black -- this is bloody pink! And it's far too small. She's supposed to be down on her luck; working in a hotel restaurant. Not a fucking porn star!"

"Don't look at me!" laughed Brendon. "My job is to take them off -- not put them on!"

"Dresser!" shouted the director.

He continued to hold the flimsy garment away from her belly as the woman scuttled up. Pearl could feel a waft of air through her pubes.

"This" - he looked straight down the front of her thong again -- "is supposed to be black."

He let go and it snapped back against her.

"Sorry." said the woman.

She trotted off and Pearl went to follow her, but the director grabbed one arm and kept her in place. At least her dress was covering her now. The dresser returned with a pair of modest black panties. she knew better than to ask if she could change in private; James was still in a temper. She pulled her thong off and stepped out of it. Then tugged the black pair on, hoping nobody was paying too much attention. But her most embarrassing moment was when the woman picked up her thong. It was wrinkled and damp. Pearl felt sure everyone could smell her arousal.

They did the scene again; another close up of her buttocks being being caressed. There was a pause and the director asked for another take. It was more of the same, except this time Brendon had to pull her panties down to her thighs and give her buttocks a proper squeeze.

"No! Do it again. You're pulling her wide open. I can show buttocks but not her actual anus; the censor will go apeshit."