Madness in the Method

This is a three part story I thought up recently. It reprises Katrina from my "Living With Katrina" series as well as her roommate Jake (Jake is there in chapters 2 and 3). You don't need to know too much about her to understand this story. It can be read independently.

The play referred to in this story is Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

As always, thanks to my editor NaokoSmith for telling me why I did a good thing by not becoming a sommelier. ;)

DISCLAIMER –

If you have read most of my other stories, you will know that there is not a light, fluffy tale ahead of you. Not for the faint of heart.

There is some drug use in this story.

"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it."

- Sylvia Plath

**

PART I: PROLOGUE

2003

Oberlin College, Ohio

"Theatre is an extension of the mind. You have to become one with the rôle," said the velvet baritone from the front of the class. "Close your eyes, open your mind. Use the method."

Most pairs of eyeballs were riveted on Professor Hayden Adair as he paced the dais. He did not need a mic, his voice reaching the farthest rows with ease. He could effortlessly garner the attention of nearly all the students.

"Stanislavski and Strasberg were pioneers in this field. To them, the character wasn't just a rôle, it was a persona. The actor had to become the character. Be the character. Live the character. You must take acting to a point where you are no longer yourself."

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a reaction. Some guys looked down, obviously texting, others were decorating the desks in the lecture hall with crude pictures of body parts of unlikely size. The female population, however, gazed steadfast in his direction. He had that effect on women.

Most of the students present had taken this subject as an elective course to boost their credits for the sem. There were few serious thespians mixed with the crowd.

Somewhere near the back of the hall sat three girls closely bunched together. They were dorm mates. The Goth girl on the left leaned across to speak.

"I went to his office the other day to ask for an extension on my term paper," she said animatedly. "He said 'yes,' and he also said I could call him Hayden. It took all my self control not to jump him right there."

"Edie, you little slut, you," giggled Lena from beside her. "You can't keep your eyes off him."

"Fuck off," Edie hissed back. "I don't see you being able to keep your hands above your desk in his class."

"Hey! I woke up late so I just about rushed to class. Didn't get time to rub one out," Lena retorted, shaking her head so her short hair brushed her ears. "You know my day doesn't start right unless I get my morning fix."

"I thought that was coffee."

"For me it's an orgasm," came the breathy reply. "Now let me finish already."

The girl to the right with the flowing blonde hair was barely aware of the conversation. Her brown eyes followed Professor Adair as he strode to the podium and watched his hand write theoretical concepts on the board.

"Stella Adler, Marilyn Monroe, Dustin Hoffman are just a few exponents of this style," he went on. "Peter Sellers sometimes engrossed himself in the role to the extent that adjusting back to his true self after the project was over was a challenge."

Hayden Adair was in his mid forties, but had a lithe, athletic body that would put a man half his age to shame. He was tall and had raven black hair neatly combed backwards. Dye covered any intermittent grey, ensuring none of his students saw those signs of age. He carried himself with an air of dignified elegance.

"He is seriously fucking hot, you know?" said Edie. "He's like that business partner of my Dad's I told you about."

"The guy you sucked off at your parents' anniversary party in the bathroom?"

"He's on Oberlin's board of trustees," Edie shrugged. "I was just making sure I got here."

"I get that it's fascinating for you to talk about your sexual adventures, Edie, but some of us are trying to take down notes. Dial it down a little?"

Edie and Lena turned to their right to see the blonde haired girl shooting them a sideways glare.

"Whateva, Princess," said Lena, with an added eyeroll. The girls resumed their conversation, albeit somewhat more discreetly.

"So, in the next class we shall be analysing the scope for method acting with respect to a particular play. Please read up on Hamlet before then."

The class slowly dispersed in a milling crowd of chatter. Smaller groups formed as they made their way out of the doors. The three girls were almost out when they heard the effortless baritone again.

"Katrina," Hayden said. "May I have a word?"

Edie and Lena shot their fellow scholar a dirty look before they traipsed off to their next class. The young girl walked unsteadily to the desk where Professor Adair was settling his pages of notes.

"Katrina, are you free later in the evening for a rehearsal?"

"Yes, sir," she said, blushing furiously, looking down and fiddling with her fingers.

"Great," he beamed. "This will be the best rendition of Les Mis the Apollo Theatre has ever seen. The others have already confirmed they will be there. I just want to focus on the first part of the play. Have you read Fantine's lines for the last few scenes of that act?"

"Yes, sir," she repeated, nodding earnestly.

He smiled and placed a palm under her chin. He raised his palm, bringing her brown eyes level with his.

"How many times have I told you, Katrina? Don't call me 'sir'."

She forced a grin. The last few students in the class filtered out into the hallway. Adair did a quick scan of the class to ensure there was no one nearby. He leaned forward and kissed Katrina deeply. She reciprocated, their tongues playing together. Even a kiss from this man could start a fire within Kat, such was the intensity of the passion she felt.

He broke the kiss after a short while. Katrina closed her eyes, trying to memorize the sensation of his luscious tongue for posterity.

"You should get going before someone suspects us," Adair said with a smile. "I'll see you in rehearsal."

She too smiled, and pecked him on the cheek once before rushing out. No one would suspect a thing. This affair was everything she had ever read about, love and longing and the desperate intensity never to let go. He made her heart flutter and her soul soar high above the clouds.

He was married. She was nineteen. But love has a way of making one ignore trivial details like that.

**

"I want my child, Monsieur Madeline."

"No, no, no," interrupted Adair forcefully. "You're not feeling the scene. The scene is full of pain. There has to be anguish in her tone. Deep, profound anguish."

Katrina looked up blankly. Professor Adair, as Valjean, waited a short distance behind the junior year Javert. His brow was knitted with irritation.

"Try the scene again. From the top."

Everybody moved back to their positions. Javert went backstage. Effortlessly, Hayden Adair segued back into Valjean. Professor Adair no longer existed.

"I have sent for a doctor," he said, his voice markedly urgent.

"I don't think there is much he can do," whispered Simplice, the nurse.

"Fantine," he asked, standing directly over the bed.

Katrina was always mesmerized by his beautiful blue eyes. She forced herself out of her trance and spoke in a voice worthy of a mother on her deathbed.

"Monsieur, Cosette. Is my Cosette there?"

"Soon, I promise," enunciated Valjean, perfectly in character.

Javert entered the scene, looking suitably contemptuous and vindicated.

"Monsieur, save me," shrieked Fantine.

(A little distance away, Adair beamed inwardly at the effort behind the three simple words.)

Valjean and Javert had their exchange in front of the dying Fantine.

"Please, Monsieur," she said, reaching out desperately from her bed. Her hands reached piteously for thin air, before they collapsed back on the bed. Fantine's face showed a remarkably good impression of the pallor of death.

All eyes turned to Adair. He broke into a grin.

"Well done. This rehearsal shows that all of you have been working hard."

The rest of the cast sighed with relief.

"We'll meet on Sunday for a dress rehearsal of the first act. Contact Miss Schmidt before then about your costumes; I want all of you dressed properly."

The cast nodded.

"That's all for now. Good job, everybody."

The others broke into groups slowly going back to their dorms. Katrina sat on the bed and looked down at the floor.

"Is something the matter, Katrina?"

"Not really," she whispered. "I just didn't like it when you yelled at me back there."

"Katrina," he said softly. "You know I didn't mean that. It was all for the sake of Art. Art always comes first."

She nodded wryly. As an artist herself, she knew how her art overwhelmed her at times.

Most of the actors were gone.

"Do you want to help me take some of the props back to storage?"

Kat nodded. She picked up a pile of Styrofoam blocks and followed the man to the back of the theatre.

"Have you been drawing anything lately?"

"No... not since what happened with Noah," she said, trying not to think about it.

"I'm very sorry for that," he said. "Mr Finch was way out of line with what he did to you. Do you want to talk about it any more?"

"No," she replied. "I'd rather not go there. Thank you for caring, Professor Adair. You're the only person I've been able to open up to about this."

"Call me Hayden. Your friend Edie does."

"So I heard."

"Why can't you draw any longer, Katrina?" he asked, as they stepped into the stage basement.

"Noah took away my love for everything," Kat confessed, her tone wavering. "For a long time, I needed pills just to get out of bed. Other times, I wouldn't even try. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. My life had no colour. I didn't want to draw."

"Why didn't you try to get some help?"

"Because I am too ashamed," she whimpered, on the verge of tears now. "I loved Noah. He was so charming at the beginning that I never saw it coming. If only he was like you."

They reached the door and Adair unlocked it. After unceremoniously dumping the props on the floor, Katrina turned towards the man with a look of earnest gratitude.

"I drew something last night. The first thing I have drawn in weeks."

She took out a small folded piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to him. He opened it and smiled at the remarkably good pencil shading of his face. She had caught the shape of his eyes perfectly, his patrician nose was sharp. Even with his limited knowledge of art, he paused to admire the delicate pencil work.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

Katrina smiled. She was about to turn towards the door when he spun her around fast and locked her lips in a torrid kiss. The shock was fleeting, she found the slow rhythm of his experienced tongue in her mouth addictive.

"You didn't think I called you here just to dump the props, did you?"

"Not a chance," she giggled coquettishly, her cheeks flushed scarlet with nervous exhilaration.

Adair turned Katrina towards the wall and pushed her against it. His hand reached around her body and cupped her supple breasts. She gasped as his fingers dug into her pliable flesh. He kneaded her breasts slowly and methodically.

"So soft," he whispered into her hair.

His other hand parted her legs and lightly touched her soaking mons. His fingers toyed along the length of the slit, making her even more wet. The tip of his index finger pressed into her, piercing her lower lips and probing the fleshy wetness.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart, and lean against the wall."

Katrina obeyed, opening up her flower to his roving fingers. She pressed back against him, making him penetrate deeper into her with his middle and index fingers. His thumb reached up and found her engorged nub.

She gasped and rubbed her wetness against his hand. He parted her nether lips with his index and middle fingers, his other hand fumbling with his pants. Kat heard the sinful sound of his zipper being lowered and soon felt the crown head of his erection against her.

"Are you ready, Katrina?"

She nodded and pushed back to give him more room to work with. He thrust his entire length into her tightness in one fluid stroke. Kat felt the impact all through her body. Adair's hands held her palms against the wall, pinning her. His hips moved back until only the head of his erection remained inside her. Then he pushed once more, burying himself into her fleshy depths.

Katrina forced her mouth shut to stifle her squeal of pleasure. He repeated his motions, gradually building from his languid rhythm until he was pounding her into the wall. Every stroke shook her body, sending waves of euphoria through her nervous system.

Adair's lips pressed against her shoulder blade and the back of her neck, his teeth grazing the skin and making her wince. The speed of his thrusts had increased and he was pounding her tight vagina briskly.

She moaned. Her climax was imminent. Her hips moved back and their bodies collided with a wet impact every time. Finally, her cum gushed out around his hard erection, but he kept slamming into her until he came inside her depths. The sticky semen trickled down her thighs, marking her with his affection.

They faced each other and kissed deeply. His hands softly tweaked and pinched her nipples. She let out a small yelp into his mouth when he let her go.

"Till next time," he said, kissing her once more on her lips.

Katrina walked to her dorm in a daze and took a shower. She was almost sad to see the flecks of semen wash off her thigh into the drain. She liked to dream that some day, he would cum inside her and she would not be on the pill.

Even as she stitched this silly fantasy in her mind, she knew the sheer improbability of it. The age difference notwithstanding, he was married. Still, it helped her mind relax as she put the shower head to good use. It was a dream.

And she never wanted to wake up.

* *

Classes were inconsequential. All of them except theatre studies. Katrina found her urge to paint again. She put her easel against her window and imagined herself and Professor Adair in grassy fields.

She put her paintbrush down and paced the room. It was the Dean's retirement party that night. Everybody would be going, including Adair and his wife. So far, Kat's interactions with Mrs Adair were largely courteous and perfunctory. She would need to act exactly the same as usual.

'There's no way she knows.'

It was completely irrational and paranoid, but Katrina felt compelled to ensure nothing happened to Hayden. She would be normal, or at least as normal as could be expected of her.

"I'm going out to get some air," she declared, leaving her two dorm mates to themselves.

She briskly walked past a few buildings until she had passed the old church. Two dishevelled students emerged from behind the hedges and passed her nonchalantly. This was the quietest place on campus. She took out her phone and called Hayden.

"Hayden, are you going to the Dean's party tonight?"

"Yes, so are you I hope? It would be rude not to go."

She covered her mouth and stole a quick glance around the courtyard.

"Will your wife be with you?"

There was a long silence on the other end. Katrina's heart thudded against her chest. She began to fear she had said something wrong.

"She will. But she doesn't know a thing and I intend to keep it that way."

"Should we meet at the party? Make eye contact?"

"If we come across each other we should," he said. "It looks less suspicious than avoiding one another."

"But.." she began.

"Relax, Katrina. Breathe deeply and don't overthink this. Nothing will go wrong."

"I love you, Hayden," she whimpered into the phone, struggling to hold back her emotion.

"I love you too, Katrina," said the deep voice. "

Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame, That takes its meaning from the nobler part, And but translates the language of the heart

."

Katrina could not help but smile and wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. He had such a way of quoting the most romantic poems at a moment's notice. Coleridge was a shared favourite of theirs. One among many.

"I'll see you there," she said. The call went dead. Katrina kept the phone to her ear for several moments after that, imagining that dreamy voice.

She walked back to her dorm. The door was locked from the inside, and music blared. Curious, she used her key and opened the door a sliver to see what was going on. Katrina scarcely expected to see Edie Bancroft on her knees, being pounded hard and fast from behind by Lena wearing a harness with a dildo in it, but college life was all about surprises. Quietly, Kat locked the door again and went off to the library to catch up on some work.

Work, idle fantasies about married professors, same thing.

* *

Katrina scanned the crowd at the Dean's party, looking for Adair. There was a certain thrill to their clandestine romance, which was hidden from the public eye. Every exchange between them, every glance, every smile, every word would have a special meaning only they would understand.

An all too familiar voice brought her crashing back to reality.

"Look who it is," drawled someone, making her cringe. "It's the campus porn star."

"Fuck off, Noah," she hissed in his direction.

"Funny, you weren't talking back when I was banging your sweet ass on webcam last month," he sneered, to the amusement of his frat buddies nearby. "I still have the video if you want it. My friends here agree that you're definitely talented."

"Fuck off, you disgusting cocksucker."

"You're calling me a cocksucker?" said Noah, taking a step forward. "Need I remind you of all the places on campus where you have been on your knees with those rosy lips wrapped around my cock? Maybe your friends would like to know. Should I send them a copy of the CD?"

"Don't push it, Noah," she warned.

"Or else what?" he sniggered. "You'll go crazy on me again, like you did the last time we met? You deserve to be in a loony bin."

"That's enough, Mr Finch," boomed a deep voice nearby. All eyes turned to see the imposing figure of Hayden Adair. His eyes burnt into the group.

"You are a reprehensible human being, Mr Finch."

Katrina used the diversion to run off. The farewell party was in full swing with the stodgy academics discussing the recent happenings in their respective fields. The students had broken into groups, chatting among themselves.

She leaned against the wall and tried to pull herself together. Love had been away when she went looking. All her short life she had been in love with the Noah Finches of the world.

Kat's tired eyes casually trailed over the people around her. The groups of students continued their muted discussions. The atmosphere inside the main hall was stifling. She needed some air, so she stepped out onto the balcony.

"Hello there,"

The voice startled her. She turned to her right to see a woman standing on the far side, against the railing with her signature cigarette in hand. She turned her face and blew a stream of smoke into the night air.

"Hello," said Katrina, stiffening. Her pulse shot several beats higher.

"Beautiful night," said the lady, looking at her.

"Yes it is, Mrs Adair."

"Mrs Adair makes me sound so old," she replied with a dismissive laugh. "Call me Iris."

"What are you doing out here?" Katrina asked.