Hey all, We’ve enjoyed posting on this great site…More to come following the Turkey break (hard to get time to draw for you all until dinner guests leave full and euphoric).
We hope you’ve enjoyed our posts thus far. We’ve certainly enjoyed yours!
Here’s a small pic to remind you what sacrifices others give up for this special day…
Peace and Thanks, (…and Cosmonogamy to you all!)
Rene et Blandine
They were supposed to be rehearsing a scene.
She had been thrilled to pair with him in the beginning. He was tall and barrel chested with muscular arms and shoulders. His strong jaw and shiny black hair completed the Clark Kent appeal.
But, during their first attempt at scene work, she realized how fragile his manly exterior was.
More than ten years separated their ages. And, when he got her alone in his apartment, he looked at her with desperate, hungry eyes. She could see that he wanted nothing more than to press his body against her young, radiant skin.
Adding to the sexual tension, the scene their acting teacher assigned was one where a young wife callously leaves her older husband, accusing him of being weak. The irony of art imitating life turned her off.
New York City was supposed to be more glittery, edgy. His apartment was just sad. It was a tiny studio in the generic lower East Side. Old, worn couch, dingy white walls, dirty clothes lingering in the corner and a bare light bulb above her head.
In acting class, in front of the crowd, he was cocky, a braggart. He had quips and zingers. She imagined him swaggering through bars, selecting any woman he fancied. At home, he clearly was a guy with little financial means struggling to get a break in acting. His dashing exterior was all he had.
He offered her a choice of herbal tea or bourbon. She contemplated leaving right them to get herself a cheeseburger and a coke. The scarcity of his substance made her hungry for something more.
They sat on the couch and read through their lines. She didn’t put much effort into the insults and withering observations of her character. Even so, she watched him wince at the script.
She never considered herself a cruel person. But, the glaring weakness she witnessed triggered a strange kind of desire.
For years, she watched other girls reel in the boys while she could never get any of them interested in what she had to offer. Now, she knew what it felt like to have something a man wanted.
She felt her breath catch as she considered the ways in which she could explore her power with him.
She leaned in closer as they paused mid-scene, putting her arm on the back of the couch and tucking her legs underneath her bottom.
He looked at her suddenly impish body language. He said, “I’m really excited we’re partners.”
It felt like getting a fish to bite.
She pushed her fingers through her hair, “Why?”
“I like the way you work. You’re fearless. I think we’re a lot alike.”
She finally caught a glimpse of the dashing exterior he wore in class. It occurred to her that she could make him more attractive simply by willing him to be.
She said, “Are you fearless? Prove it.”
His bravado cracked. He looked panicky. “What do you mean?”
“Show me what a fearless man does when he’s alone in a room with a young woman… like me.”
Her father had taught her to fish. He showed her the difference between the tickling pull of a fish nibbling and the sustained tension on the line that means the fish took the entire hook. The line between the two of them was taught.
He cautiously reached up and touched her cheek. “So smooth. So warm.”
He looked at her and she could see paternal tenderness in his eyes. This was not what she wanted. She wanted hot desire. No affection. No need.
She touched the corner of his eye. “You have a lot more wrinkles than I noticed before.”
He recoiled.
She leaned into his arms. “Look, it’s hard to pretend that we’re ending some big relationship when I can’t even imagine why I’d fall in love with a guy like you in the first place. I mean, what do you think brought our characters together? What do you think my character ever wanted in you? I’ve never actually been with such an older man. What’s the thrill?”
He ran his fingers down the back of her arm, lightly holding her elbow. “I guess experience. I’ve been with enough women that I have a good idea what someone like you would want. Maybe something you haven’t gotten before.”
Now she was hooked as well.
She straddled him as he sat on the couch. “What do you think I want? What have I not gotten before that you can give me?”
They weren’t following any script for this part of rehearsal. But, she was good at improvising. She figured if he had the chops, he could get anything he named.
He didn’t say anything.
He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her face to his. He looked into her eyes and then kissed her tenderly on the lips. His mouth was very soft and cool. His touch was exceedingly tender.
That was not what she wanted.
She pulled back, “I can get a sweet kiss anytime. What else you got?”
That’s when she realized why a man with his looks was still living in a lousy apartment at his age. He didn’t have the skills to make it in acting. He was nothing more than himself.
He grabbed her by the waist and threw her onto her back on the couch. He lay on top of her, breathing hard. She knew he wanted her because she could feel his hard-on as pressed his body against hers. But, his movements were mechanical. He was pretending to be passionate.
She considered whether she would go through with the entire act and chalk it up to ‘research’ for her future acting career.
But, just then, the lights went out.
She had heard about a dramatic power outage in Manhattan back in the 70’s.
She asked him, “Is it a black-out?”
He said, “No. I think my power just got cut. I haven’t been able to pay the bill.”
With that, she slid out from under his body. She found her purse and script and said, “I’m outta here. It’s hard to rehearse in the dark. Next time, let’s just meet in a cafe.”
She left him alone in his unlit apartment.
Sarah Neverfaker always knew how to play the scene.
Our known world consists of two points. There is our entry point and there is our exit point. The exit point is vague and shrouded in mystery and fear. But our entry point is essentially just the exit point from our previous world.
Who knows what lies beyond the great portal at the end of this world?
We can always glimpse back at where we came. I guess this is where our comfort lies…And why we always seek to return there.
(Original post now archived on HERE part of cosmonogamy.com)
Often it is the simplest of lines
that can sway the minds
I wonder if simplicity is the key to turning ones head?
How subtle can one be and still get the message across?
(this post archived at cosmonogamy.com)