Ren Gets Even Steven

When I first met her, she was just a tomboyish-looking kid: prepubescent, full of energy, and mischievous as you could ever imagine. I was 13 years older than she was, I later learned. She walked into the open casting call for Disney that day so nervous she trembled uncontrollably. She didn't get the part she was reading for that day, but the producers liked her look, and made note of her. They wanted to see her audition for future Disney productions.

Christy Carlson Romano returned to Disney Studios in Los Angeles a few years later to read for a comedy show aimed at young teens that was going into production in a few months. She wanted to land the part of "Ren", a young, intelligent, high-strung do-gooder girl who lived with her family in suburban Sacramento. Her character excelled in school, never got in trouble, and would always be the apple of her parents' eyes. Christy knocked the producers dead that day, and she landed the part. She was so good, in fact, that the auditions were halted shortly after her read, simply because they producers knew they'd found their girl.

Christy had a vague memory of meeting me a few years ago, but I remembered her vividly. I remember thinking what a pretty young girl she was, and, as many men do, envisioned her a few years older, and few years more mature, both emotionally and physically. I could easily see that she was going to blossom into a beautiful woman one day. Fortunately, for both of us, I was right.

Christy was a girl of above-average height, standing about 5'9" and of a somewhat slender build. She had long, straight brown hair, big brown eyes, an incredibly tight body, even by a young woman's standards, and a smile that could enrich even the most callous of individuals. I told her once that her smile was her "secret weapon". She always used that weapon on me when I said that to her. She got invisible braces shortly after production on the show began. She was very self-conscious about it at first. I had told her numerous times that a lot of adults have braces, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I also told her how much it enhanced her attractiveness. I think at first she believed that I was simply trying to be supportive, but she could eventually see how sincere I was.

I had worked behind the scenes at Disney for about 7 years. I got hired on at their studios in California as a gopher-boy, running the most undesirable of errands. Eventually, I ended up creating a spot for myself in their ranks. I had proven my merit to the right people, and had co-written a couple of holiday specials for them, and ultimately landed a job as a director's assistant. The pay wasn't outstanding, but I was able to live comfortably, and I was happy. I felt the opportunities for me in this company would be endless, and the job perks would be second-to-none. I had no idea how right I would be.

Christy and I had developed somewhat of a big brother/younger sister relationship on the set. We would talk to each other between shoots, joking about different things, running over her lines, or just giving her a chance to talk, allowing her an escape for the pressures of being a teenage celebrity. She would even ask my advice on certain things in her life. Nothing too personal, but I also felt that she was so comfortable in my presence that she had no qualms about asking me anything. She was always so happy, and always flashed her ‘secret weapon' to me whenever she arrived on set. We had spent about a year and half working together, and became fast friends.

Christy walked up to me one day on the set, looking sad for the first time since I'd met her years ago. "What's wrong with you?" I asked her.

"My 18th birthday is later this week.", she replied.

"Yeah, and? How is that a bad thing? Most people look forward to 18. It's a time for celebration. You're finally recognized as an adult, and all sorts of new opportunities are afforded to you. Don't tell me you're having a mid-life crisis."

She mustered a faint laugh. "No, not quite. My family wants to take me out. Apparently, they have this big thing planned for me; dinner, cake, presents, and some super big surprise."

"I'm still waiting for the horrible part.", I replied snidely, but still playfully.

She smacked me on the arm. "I'm being serious. I don't want any of it. I just want to be normal. I feel like, because of what I do for a living, and particularly who I work for, I have to be this certain person, this ‘good girl', and I hate it. I am supposed to act a certain way, talk a certain way, listen to certain music, wear certain clothes…and so on. Do you know what I mean?"

I couldn't fully understand, because I'd never been a young television star for a network that catered primarily to children and their parents, but I could sympathize. I felt, in all the time I'd known Christy, I'd never once seen her display any emotion except joy. In most scenarios, that's an ideal world, but in reality, we're all human, and sometimes we have to erupt with anger, or cry out loud, or release another pent-up emotion in some way, or we'll go mad. For the first time, I saw life thru Christy's eyes: she felt she had to be a puppet, or she would be letting someone down. Her position within the public eye, as a Disney employee, almost dictated that she live a sugar-coated public life. She'd always remained even tempered, even when the director, my boss, yelled unmercifully at her. She tended to let it roll off of her back, or she would grin and bear it. All this time, Christy had been stifling her emotions. My heart went out to her. I reached out, and wiped away the first tear that began to run down her cheek.

"What can I do? How can I help you? I'll do anything for you. I hope you know that by now."

"I do," she replied, smiling wistfully at me. "I don't know that there's anything you can do, other than sabotage this damn party for me."

For the first time since I'd known her, I'd heard Christy swear. I'm not even sure I'd ever heard her say ‘darn' to that point in our friendship. It was becoming more and more clear to me that Christy was perfect for the part of ‘Ren'; she had become her in real life. Either by attrition from her surroundings, or by birth, although I doubted it was the latter. I had always had an inexplicable attraction to Christy, but I stifled my thoughts simply because of her age, and the nature of our relationship. However, the fact that she would be 18 this Friday sat in the forefront of my mind, and changed my view of her. She was no longer that little girl bouncing around on the stage, hoping to land a small part in any Disney production. She was now a young woman, whose mind had matured as nicely as her figure. Both were honed splendidly.

I'd met Christy's parents a few times, and they seemed to be genuinely nice people, if not over-protective of their young starlet daughter. I had no intent on destroying any plans they'd set for their youngest child. "You know I can't do that." I offered, with an uncomfortable sigh.

"I know," she said. "They mean well, they really do. I just want to be me on my 18th birthday, you know? No rules, no bounds. I want to feel freedom of self-expression for the first time in my life. I want to scream, and have the whole world hear me. I want to show someone who I really am." She wiped away a final tear from her face, and stood up. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. I could smell not only her perfume, which was sweet enough in and of itself, but her natural scent was amazing. I'd never been this close to Christy before, and I didn't want to stop hugging her. I felt her hands run down my back, and lightly brush the top of my buttocks. She kissed me on the cheek, and said to me, "I love you."

At that moment, I realized what I'd felt for Christy. She was more than just a ‘little sister' to me. She was someone that I wanted to learn about on every level: emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and at this very instant, physically. Her body was soft to the touch, although tight. It felt as if there was not an ounce of fat on her. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, as well, but I was afraid of where those three words could lead to. I was afraid of many things. I looked back into her brown eyes and said, "Me, too." She flashed that secret weapon at me, and walked away from me without another word. She simply waved goodbye.

That Friday had been a particularly brutal day on the set. My boss was in the middle of his third divorce, an all-too-common thing in the entertainment business. So much for the sanctity of marriage. He was taking out his frustrations on everyone at work. Few people there were in a position to say anything to him, so most people just absorbed his words, processed them, and then discarded it all. I was sometimes amazed that he had never caused himself physical harm from his constant yelling on-set. For someone that was directing a light-hearted, family-oriented sitcom, he certainly didn't seem to be the type that would represent such a show.

I couldn't get home fast enough that evening. I had a normal Friday night routine of going home, maybe grabbing some take-out, and sitting with all of the lights off in my apartment, with a few scented candles lit throughout, combining different scents such as cinnamon, vanilla, and berry. I also tended to have a bottle of one kind of liquor or another on hand. I rarely got drunk alone, but I would sometimes have more than a recommended serving, just to help take the edge off of a long week. I never, ever took phone calls. I only wanted to disconnect from the world for a few hours a week, and that time was usually non-negotiable. Solitude, I always thought, is one of life's most underrated commodities. The one constant when I was at home was music playing. I had always identified with music. It could soothe and heal, and also infuriate and enrage. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced, until that night.

It was already dark when I got home that night, and I was exhausted. If my boss had had a day like this during the week, I might have not returned to work the next morning. I needed the weekend to remove myself, mentally, from the set, and to recharge my batteries. I hadn't had the chance to put on any music, and I had barely lit the candles throughout my home when there was a knock at the door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Christy standing outside, alone. She looked around, nervously. She was wearing a thin, tight, dark red sweater, even tighter black pants, and heels. She always wore a conservative amount of makeup, and tonight was no exception. She never needed any, I thought. This is a girl...no…a woman…who looks the same when she first wakes up as she does after she's made up. Her beauty was angelic. I unlocked and opened the door.

"Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your family tonight?"

"Can I come in?" she asked.

I stepped to the side to allow her entry. I shut and locked the door behind her. My God, she smelled even more amazing than usual. Dogs may be man's best friend, but pheromones are a very close second.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I skipped out on my family tonight.", she muttered.

"What?"

"I wanted to be here, with you…at least for a little while. Is that OK?"

"First off, how did you know where I live?", I asked, still pleased, if not stunned to have her here tonight. "We do have a recall roster at work, you know.", she replied, smiling cautiously.

I smiled back at her. Maybe I'm too responsible for my own good, but my first thoughts turned to her parents. "What about them? What about their plans with you? Aren't they going to be concerned when you aren't wherever you're supposed to be…" I paused, looking at my watch. It was 20 past eight. "…right now?", I resumed.

"I don't care. I only turn 18 once, don't I? Shouldn't this night be filled with memories I want to remember forever? I am an adult now, and I can make my own decisions, right? I mean, this isn't a night about my parents, or Disney, or anyone else. Tonight is about me. It's about my happiness. It's about getting and doing what I want, and what I want is to be here with you now. Is that OK?"

I smirked, and looked at her. Here was this young, beautiful woman, now 18, who I'd watch grow from a child into a woman. She was intelligent, gorgeous, and now, apparently, devious. I liked it. A lot.

"Sure," I agreed. "Why not?" I had spent my 18th birthday in college hovering face down in a toilet. My roommate had stuffed our fridge with beer, and had some friends over to our dorm room. The legal drinking age was 21 at that point, but he had gotten some older friends of his to purchase the alcohol. I vaguely remember pounding one beer after another, after a certain point I have no memory of what took place. I had drank so much, that I got sick, and blacked out. I did it because I thought I could, and because I was legally an adult (although still couldn't legally drink). I have little to no memory of my 18th birthday, mostly of my own making. I've regretted that my entire life. I don't want Christy to regret anything in her life, and if I can help eliminate any regrets for her, then so be it. She stays, and stays as long as she likes. "Make yourself at home."

She took her heels off, and walked barefoot across my carpeted floor. She gave herself a tour around the neat apartment. It was spacious, with a beige theme. There were a few plants hanging outside the back entrance, and one large one in my small office, but that was it. It was a standard bachelor's place; there was a TV, some books on the bookshelf, little decoration on the walls, although Christy did find a kitchen she found surprisingly clean, and a dining area that had been transformed into a music center. I had purchased, over the years, a fantastic, top of the line sound system for my apartment. I had wired speakers in every room of my apartment, including the bathroom and the bedroom. I never wanted to be without music. Music was, and still is, as essential to me as breathing.

"Nice place.", she said. "No pets or anything?"

"Nope. I don't deal well with that kind of responsibility.", I remarked.

"Really? I don't see that in you at all. You're the most responsible guy I know.", Christy responded. She walked into the kitchen to find a nearly full bottle of Stolichnaya Razberi on the counter, alongside a chilled 2-liter of bottle of Sprite.

"Oh my God…are you expecting company tonight?" she exclaimed.

"No, not at all. I usually make myself a drink or three on Friday nights."

"Three, huh?" She flashed that secret weapon of hers at me again. "Will you fix me a drink?"

I started to turn away, and shake my head. "Christy…."

"Oh, come on. Please? I don't want to get drunk or anything. I've just….I've never tasted alcohol."

If this had been anyone other than Christy, I would have called their bluff. Knowing Christy as well as I do, I believed her completely. I'd venture to guess that she'd never even sipped champagne in her life. She'd either become the character that she portrays on-camera, of being every parent's dream daughter, or she'd been forced into playing that role by her shielding parents. I thought for a moment about Christy's request, then decided that what she said earlier was correct: this night was about her, and her happiness. "Yeah, OK. I'll pour for you as if I'm pouring for myself." I offered.

Her face lit up with bliss. She felt accepted as an adult, for the first time in her life. She also reveled in the thought of doing something that she shouldn't be doing. Frankly, so did I.

Her head jerked back almost involuntarily upon her first sip of the cocktail that I'd made her. She made a face that expressed many things at once, not the least among them shock. "Too strong?" I asked, trying not to laugh. I didn't want Christy to think I'm mocking her. "No." was her single-word answer, but the emptiness of her voice was a more sincere answer. I let out a small laugh, and she followed my laugh with one of her own. I took her glass, and added a little more Sprite to it, to water the drink down for her. She took the glass back to her lips, cautiously this time; she liked this mix much better.

She walked into my music area, and was in awe of my CD collection, while I secretly admired her body from behind her. In my 31 years, I'd purchased over a thousand titles, every artist from AC/DC to ZZ Top. She traced her fingers along the spines of the CDs, starting on the top row, looking for something to put in. "What should I play?" she asked.

"Anything you like. Tonight's your night."

She looked back at me and smiled. She was experiencing feelings that she'd long kept hidden away, but there was no excuse to now. She felt passion. She felt contentment. She was unafraid of her feelings for the first time in her life. She felt the ability to be free and careless, and there would be no consequences, ever. Not inside these walls. She also felt something else that she'd felt a few times before, but didn't know how to describe it to anyone. She'd never even tried, for fear of being ridiculed. It was a burning in certain parts of her body, and a hunger in her mind. She hungered for knowledge. She hungered for human touch.

"Do you have any music that's sexy?" she inquired?

Hearing her just say the word sexy was enough to ignite my arousal for her. "Genesis.", I said.

"Isn't that that Phil Collins guy? Are you serious?"

"I couldn't be more serious. Don't think of Phil Collins and Genesis as the same artists. Even though he's part of Genesis, their music is completely different. Trust me on this; there's nothing sexier than early Genesis music. Their sound is everything; it's love, it's sadness, it's joy, it's loss." was my response.

"OK. I trust you.", she answered, seeming intrigued. She removed several Genesis CDs from the rack, and loaded them into my CD player. She pressed the play button, and moved toward the couch.

Christy laid down on the couch, drink in hand. She took another sip, and placed the glass on to the table in front of her. She relaxed, closed her eyes, and began to listen to the music. I sat at the far end of the couch, lifting her legs up, then resting them on my lap. I took a drink from my glass and then placed it on the table as well. I began to massage her bare feet. She allowed herself to get lost in the moment. There were no pressures of being a celebrity here. There were no pressures to be perfect. There was only she and I, and she could finally…finally…be who she felt Christy was.

It was as if a trip wire was set off inside her mind. She looked at me with a look that confirmed how I felt about Genesis' music. It was incredibly erotic to her. "I've never heard their music before." she told me. "You're right. This music is….is…." She then began to move her hands up and down her upper body, her eyes remaining closed, her ears drinking in the sounds coming from the speakers. I watched with great interest as this beautiful young woman began to perform a dance routine with herself, with me as the lone audience member.

She acted, for a moment, as if I wasn't there. She had never felt this comfortable, she thought to herself, even alone in her own home, in her own bed. She opened her eyes, and without ever removing her eyes from mine, she dropped one leg to floor, at my feet, and the other behind my head, onto the top of the couch. Studying me still, she slowly, almost hesitantly, began to slide her left hand inside of her pants.

I was awestruck. I shifted my eyes from hers down to her crotch area, and watched her fingers move in a measured, counter-clockwise motion between her legs. She nervously continued to watch me, awaiting a sign of my approval. I could feel her watching me, but I couldn't take my eyes from between her legs. I wanted this. I wanted more. This was right, and this would happen, tonight.