Well, half-naked
She was changing out of her costume
When she noticed it
Sitting in front of her mirror
Her name elegantly written
In smart calligraphy
She opened it
Thinking it was something from a relative
Her mother had come that night
As well as her college roommate
And she thought perhaps Lucy, the stage manager
Had been given the envelope
To pass on to her
When she opened it
The first word that jumped out at her
Was 'caress'
What followed made her stand there
With no top on
And despite the fact
That Maya was not shy
She was also not an exhibitionist
And would never remain that state
For that long
In front of people rushing around
Trying to get changed
So they could get to the restaurant
Where everybody was eating after the show
She would have moved
But the letter held her there
It had hands that clamped down
On her shoulders
And eyes that bore into her own
It was full of things
Full of dirty things
Actions
Requests
Adjectives
All of them unspeakable
Maya wanted to rip up the letter
And throw it away
But she didn't
She didn't
She folded it neatly
Slipped it into her bag
And got changed
As quickly as she could
. . . . .
Meg got the letter at the box office
She was getting tickets for her brother
When Nelson handed her the envelope
She had no idea what had caused
Her co-star's little outburst tonight
But whatever it was
It certainly made the show more interesting
The envelop was simple
A light cream color
Her name was written in comic book letters
Big goofy script with smiley faces
And the tail on the "g" curled
At least three times
She took the letter
Thinking it was from someone in the audience
Who enjoyed her performance
It was nice being the lead
You got little perks like this
Adoring letters
From people who think
You're the best Alessandra
That ever was
Not realizing that you were just a sophomore
From Florida State
Who couldn't even get a lead
In her school production of 'Kiss Me, Kate'
Here you were
In a lousy little theater in Nebraska
Bringing culture to the deprived
Not miscast by yokels
Who didn't know any better
As your schoolmates were undoubtedly saying
Back home
The first word she saw was 'fuck'
What other word would jump out at you
When that word was right in the middle of the page
And in its verb form
'Anything good?'
The sound of Nelson's voice
Shook her loose from her shock
And she instinctively grabbed the letter
And shoved it into her pocketbook
'Nooo, just...just, you know...yeah.'
Brilliant, Meg, brilliant
'I'll see you at Cap's'
'Cool. See you there.'
Meg was hoping that tonight
Cap's would go easy on the carding
She was a month away from her twenty-first birthday
But she couldn't imagine needing a drink more
Than she did right now
What she wouldn't say
When she saw that word
When it jumped out at her
What she wouldn't admit to herself was--
She was a little thrilled
Maybe more than a little
. . . . .
Molly got the letter onstage
Which was not supposed to happen
Someone had found the letter
Not read the name on the envelope
And put it on the prop table
Molly's character, Rena
Receives a letter in the second act
Informing her
That her sister has died
In a tragic automobile accident
Due to the contents of the letter
Molly's performance
Which was, on any given night
Erratic and dull-edged at best
Attained a level of depth
That downright astounded her co-star
Her co-star happened to be Meg
The first word she saw was 'lucid'
And the only thing surprising about it
Was the fact that Molly was sure
The word 'lucid'
Was not in the letter
Informing her of her fictional sister's untimely demise
Luckily for Molly
Her character is given
What theater people call--
A pregnant pause
--To process
What this new letter was saying
By the time the moment came
For her to burst into fake tears
Usually brought on
By Molly imagining the day
Her kitten went missing
She was still reeling
Meg repeated her cue line
And then repeated it again
But Molly just stood there
Words were jumping out at her
'Breasts'
'Thighs'
'Backside'
At 'ass,' she yelped
Actually yelped
Causing Meg to jump back
Almost expecting Molly to attack her
Then Molly seemed to straighten herself out
She said her next line
And the scene continued
But when Harris came onstage, as the butler
To take the letter from Rena, Molly's character
She did something she'd never done before--
She improvised
'No thank you, Jonathan,' she said, 'I'm keeping this.'
. . . . .
The restaurant was quite the affair
Everyone noticed that something in the air
It had been present ever since Molly went up onstage
Nobody said anything to her about it
Molly was so fragile
Nobody wanted to upset her
Any more than she already was
The three girls sat at different ends of the table
But all of them were engaged in the same activity:
Looking for the author
Of the dirty letter
Maya was convinced that it was Terrence
He was the director's assistant
And was always trying so hard
To make a good impression
When she was around
He'd tell awful jokes
And put on that awkward shade of confidence
That's clearly worn
Only for the sake of someone else
The letter was probably his last ditch effort
The play was going to close in a week
And Terrence must have figured
That it was time to go for broke
But some of those phrases!
'Trickle my fingers down your arms'
'Taste the sweat as it pours out of your skin'
'Bury my face in your--'
God it was terrible
What was he thinking?
Sending her something like that
And what was the point
If he wasn't even going to sign it
To authorize his insanity
Thank God she'd never have to see him again
After next week
She found herself drinking
More than she really should
And before long
She was staring down Terrence
Nearly daring him to confess
When he would catch her gaze
She would bring the rim of her wine glass
To her lips
'Slide my tongue over those lips
Marking them with a soft nibble'
And wait for him
To make his move
So she could tell him
What she really though of him
. . . . .
Meg knew it had to be Harris
Who else could it be?
He wanted to fuck her, huh?
Well, she couldn't say she was surprised
Maybe he and Terrence had been talking
Conversing as men do
And maybe Terrence had mentioned her
Had mentioned how insatiable she is
Once you get her in bed
Dammit, Terrence, couldn't you keep your mouth shut?
Now Harris was obsessed with her
It wasn't uncommon
A leading lady such as herself
Still young and innocent
If only he knew that she was really a lion
Hidden in a lamb's body
She looked a few heads down
Where Harris was sitting next to Maya
And considered him
He was fat
He really was
There was no other way to say it
To even suggest
That he would have a chance with her
Was appalling
One week left or not
She couldn't have sex with Harris
She'd done very well during this production
She'd slept with the director (standard)
His assistant, the assistant stage manager
The two boys playing her brothers
(That had nearly done permanent psychological damage
To the two young men)
She'd slept with Paola, the set designer
She'd slept with his girlfriend (why not? it's July after all)
She'd slept with the playwright when he came to do a talkback
And she wasn't ashamed of any of it
Not a bit
But if she slept with Harris
God, how could she forgive herself?
He wasn't just fat
He wasn't just boring
He wasn't just a bad actor
Who failed every night
To deliver three very simple lines
Without breaking out into a sweat
Still, what he had written
What had sprung from his pen
So unabashedly
'I want to blindfold you and then--'
'--While you hold onto my shoulders--'
'--Until you beg me to stop.'
She found herself devouring
Her blueberry tart
Trying to mask her arousal
As hunger
But it was Harris
He was...
He was...
He was...
The Butler
. . . . .
It had to be Paola
He had come to every performance
And why else?
Unless he was interested in someone
In the cast
But Molly?
Why would he want Molly?
Rumor was that he had slept with Meg
So what was Molly then?
The next rung on the ladder
Well, no thank you
No thank you ONE BIT!
She had no intention
Of taking Meg's cast-offs
Not even gorgeous
European cast-offs
Who worked with their hands
To build massive staircases
And revolving dining room tables
She had half a mind
To walk down to the end of the table
Where Paola was holding court
Like a medieval lord of the manor
And pour whatever he was drinking
Right onto his lap
Maybe that would quell his desire for her
Oh, and the way he tried make conversation
Complimenting her just a few minutes ago
On the natural performance she gave tonight
He nearly made a fool of her!
Although perhaps she wasn't meant to get the letter
Right there onstage
But nevertheless, it was his fault
What kind of a depraved mind
Could write things like that?
'I wish I could be your corset. To feel your soft skin and beautiful breasts pressed up against me. I love the flash of thigh that appears whenever you move across the stage. I would watch your backside for hours and pay gladly for it.'
DISGUSTING!
And to see him down there
Laughing it up
Telling Meg a joke
From across the table
As if they were just friends
As if they hadn't...
And as if nobody knew!
What was wrong with artistic people?
That sex could be so convenient
That it was expected of everyone
To be crass
To flirt openly
To look for someone within each show
To have a six-week fling with
Until the final curtain came down
Molly was not like that
She was traditional
The thought of someone
Sending her a letter...
And yet, it was sort of romantic
Sort of old-fashioned
Despite the letter's contents
There was something dramatic about it
That made it sort of...
Interesting
Not sweet
She wouldn't say...
Well, maybe sweet
Now she was rationalizing
Which was ridiculous
What she had gotten
Was a dirty filthy letter
And there was nothing
Paola could say
That would make her
Grant him forgiveness
Nothing
...Was part of the letter in iambic pentameter?
Was that what that was?
Well, that was impressive
You couldn't deny
That it was impressive
. . . . .
Nelson found them in the parking lot
Going at in the back of Terrence's car
Hands pressed against the windows
Steamed up so badly
There were prints all over the car
It was very Titanic
Leave it to Maya
To be impatient
Once faced with a man
Who had no interest
In what she thought of him
She couldn't rip her clothes off
Fast enough
Meg and Harris hadn't fared much better
They ducked out of the restaurant
Giggling like two kids
Skinny-dipping
For the first time
She must have found the animal side of him
And once she knew it was there
She couldn't resist it
Typical Meg
Then there was Paola and Molly
Who were on the small dance floor
The restaurant set up
Every Friday night
They were pressed together
But in the most natural way
Nelson had requested
That the band play 'All the Way'
And the song had done its job
So had the letters
Nelson had no interest in match-making
But he couldn't take seeing his three friends
Pine after these women
The entire summer
He had tried to tell them
That he understood what the ladies wanted
But they hadn't believed him
So he took matters into his own hands
And look how everything had turned out
Brilliantly
He had even signed the letters
Against his better judgment
Reasoning to himself
That the contents in the body of the letter
Would distract from the clue at the end
He ended each letter with the following phrase--
'I think together we'd be just the ticket.'
Amazing how people don't pay attention
To the man they walk by every day
Who keeps their audiences happy
By giving them what they want
How they want it
And all before the lights come up
Tonight was special thought
Tonight, Nelson had managed the actors
Not the house
And everyone seemed
To love their seat
No comments:
Post a Comment