Joy On Stage Part Ch 01

Foreword: This story is my first submission to Literotica. The protagonist/narrator is a young woman, an actress, and the year it begins is 1992. It's not a quick shot of sex, it's a somewhat slow-unfolding tale of public nudity, without about three sex scenes by the conclusion. It's character-driven, a total of about 39,000 words, and hopefully works for most readers as it does for me. Votes and comments are appreciated, but please try to offer comments and criticism as if we were sitting down together, face to face in a public place. Thanks.

*****

"We're prepared to offer you the role of Joy, if you're interested," Rosemary said. My eyes widened and I said nothing, filling with the kind of escalating crazy excitement where I only stopped myself because I was sure I had heard wrong. "Now, Chelsea... Chelsea? You are aware that the costume for this role is, to put it mildly, rather minimal?"

I could barely breathe as I thought about landing a role like this. I tried to concentrate on what she was saying, nodding along, and I recalled pretty quickly that Joy wore a bra and panties for the full duration of the play. No big deal, I thought.

"Is it a thong or regular panties?" I asked, brushing red strands of hair out of my eyes. Rosemary said she wouldn't guarantee anything until she talked to the costume designer, but she envisioned the costume as sexy-but-normal panties. I nodded along dumbly, then had another question. "Are you guessing they'll be... transparent? You know, see-through underwear?"

"No, no," Rosemary smiled. "I don't see anything like that. We've been planning how we'll do this L.A. production of the play for a few weeks now, as you may know from what I told the actors before the auditions... the characters of Harry and Tracy will both be nude in a scene in the second act, as you'll read in the full script when I hand those out—"

"I've read the full script," I admitted. I had gotten a copy from a friend who had scripts to almost everything, although it was probably frowned upon for someone who didn't participate in a production to have a copy of an unpublished script that had only run for a short time in New York City; in the days when the internet reigns, it is probably easy to get a copy, but in 1992 it was a pretty impressive feat, and Rosemary seemed a bit shocked. I had only read it the night before, after spending more than a week trying to track down a copy, and after I had set myself on auditioning for the role of Tracy, I found out about the nude scene too late to really change my mind about the whole thing, though I wouldn't confess such a thing to the director. Instead I told Rosemary, "I love the play so much I had to come out for it. I wish I had been there to see it in New York... but I guess this is better. Are you sure you want me for Joy?"

Dumb, dumb question—never second-guess a director's choice, even if you're subconsciously just seeking a compliment. But Rosemary smiled at me, friendlier than I deserved, and told me she thought I would make an incredible Joy. She was in her late 30s, single strands of silver in her black hair giving away her age, as well as a few smile lines, but she still wore the grace and beauty of a tested actress, even if she preferred to work from the wings these days. I had admired her stage production of

Medea

, even if I wasn't good enough to make it past the audition process two years ago. It was better than a consolation prize, though, to walk into this audition gauntlet, hoping for the role of one-night stand Claudia and getting the role of Joy. I couldn't believe my reading of Tracy's lines for those five or so minutes had convinced her I could play the other role. The better role.

"You understand the play then? I mean, you have a deeper understanding than the quick description I gave everyone before?" I said I thought I did. Harry was real, something of a go-nowhere loser with a heavy collection of porn videos and doubts about his prudish girlfriend, Tracy; Tracy was real, a modern girl with traditional hang-ups about sex, feeling tested by Harry's pressures until she succumbs to him at the end; my character, Joy, was imaginary, the titular star of the play,

Conscience

, who harangues Harry about his failings as a man and how he should emotionally manipulate Tracy until he's conquered her. Rosemary liked my assessment quite well, smiled at me again. "Frankly, I think Joy is the best role in the play."

"So do I," I laughed with near giddiness. It wasn't just because she got to keep her clothes on all the way through, even if those clothes were underwear. Joy got to say and do things no female characters do, express raunchy, chauvinist pig thoughts, talk about sex with graphic detail, and bounce around with girlish abandon instead of playing reserved like Tracy, plus there was even a scene I recalled where Joy seduces Harry, even if it's just in his mind. Joy was the devil-on-the-shoulder character, and I would have done anything to play her, if I had any notion I had such a chance. The most wonderful thing had landed in my lap, and I was still waiting for them to pull it away from me.

As I talked about all the things I liked about Joy and Rosemary either agreed with me or steered me toward a more acute understanding, the producer of the play, Ken, yawned and excused himself for coffee. I didn't think much of him the entire time he sat at the table with us, but after he left, Rosemary whispered that Ken had been my biggest fan during the audition. That left me feeling awful for my first impression and quite shocked. No telling what lurks beneath someone's exterior, I thought.

"The decision, for me, was between you and Pam for Claudia... I was leaning toward you, but I liked Jenny for Joy. I don't know if you saw Jenny, she's another redhead, hair a little lighter than yours, but your body types are pretty similar... I couldn't help but think this was going to be a bad call, having you as Claudia, the one-night stand, and Jenny as the conscience. Her read was very good, though. I was even tempted to go with Pam as Joy, but she just came off a big production on Vine and didn't want to spend that much time on another show this soon. Just between you and me, I think she and Jenny both have pilots lined up... I talked to Jenny about the role of Joy... in the end I think she could have done it, but she had much softer ideas for it than I did. Understandable, since she hasn't seen the whole script. Ken talked to me about having you read for that one... you were far too strong for Tracy."

Laughing with relief, I admitted, "I honestly thought you were just trying to make me feel like I didn't waste a trip down here."

"We don't do that in professional theater," she said gently. "No, it's a kick in the ass and a 'see you next go-round' here. I liked you. I mean... no offense, I do have my doubts... but I liked what you did with it in the audition. You're inexperienced, but sometimes that's a good thing. I won't say anything unfair about Jenny, but she can be pretty... adamant... when it comes to the choices she makes for the character. If the two of us have the same vision, it works. I had my doubts we would have a stress-free collaboration this time."

I was still coming to terms with my incredible luck when Rosemary went into details about the contract and the pay scale I would receive. I hadn't even considered that I would be receiving my first real paying gig as an actress, that in itself would be worth showing up for, even if the role had been garbage. She asked me to show up Wednesday for the read-through and sign out scripts from Becky when I arrived. I asked her who else had been cast, probably not a good idea, and she wouldn't tell me until she told them. I didn't envy whoever had to play Tracy. I had no idea how much nudity there would be in the play, but I had spent all morning talking myself into it, it was a tremendous relief that I wouldn't have to play that role.

Three months before I won the role of Joy, I had wrecked my car driving a friend home from a nightclub and the insurance company was still challenging the claim, leaving me waiting on a ride. I tried calling one of my roommates to come pick me up, they usually owed me a favor like that, but neither of them were at home, they worked real jobs. I didn't know if it was a good idea, but I called my one true crush, Vaughn. I didn't want to put him on the spot by asking a favor, especially when we had just gotten past all this recent tension with his girlfriend, but he was the safer bet for being home since he went to school at UCLA. As I half-expected, his classes were over, and he said he didn't mind picking me up. I wasn't worried about him minding, but I thought his girlfriend, Bobbie, would.

"I got the part!" I told him, even before he got into the car. He congratulated me, then asked what part I got, knowing I was aiming high but anticipating getting the crumbs. "No, it wasn't Tracy or Claudia... I got Joy!"

"Wow. Which one's Joy?" I didn't know how to summarize the play for him, so I summed it up as the part with the most lines, besides the male lead. "No fucking way! Chelsea, you da man. Your first paying gig and everything. Get in, c'mon. I'll take you out for lunch."

I wasn't about to turn down a free meal, I didn't dine out very often on my budget, but I knew there was no way we were going anywhere nice and it was too late for lunch. His girlfriend had major insecurities after she dropped him and he didn't fall apart, so when Vaughn agreed to get back with her, she kept him on a very short leash. I had been the cause of many major arguments, I had been told. I pretended to be sorry for that, but you know, I wasn't. If I had been a little bit faster I believed Vaughn would be my boyfriend now instead of hers.

Of course, I couldn't resist telling Vaughn all about the embarrassing details of the part, but I was still flying too high to really worry about what I might have to adjust to later. There was an insecure side of me worried I might trip some prudish streak in Vaughn, really turn him off when I had to admit I would be doing an entire play in my underwear, but as usual, he was a doll. I liked to think of him picturing it, although I had no misconceptions about luring him away from Bobbie, we had had that conversation quite a few times when I made it clear I was into him. Frankly, I thought I had a better body than she did, slightly bigger boobs, maybe she had a prettier face, I never had a lot of confidence in my own, but he was with her out of loyalty more than anything else. He said he loved her, maybe he did, but a mutual friend of ours, my roommate Mill, once told me that Vaughn was more in love with the idea of himself as a perfect boyfriend than with Bobbie, and I liked to believe that. He was a good friend as well, and I didn't need more proof of that than how he made me feel it was no big deal to do a part without many clothes on.

"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about," he said, scooping sugar into his coffee. I sometimes joked he might as well order a candy bar to stir it, he used so much sugar. Vaughn gestured at me with his spoon and went on, "Girls with bad bodies can be self-conscious about something like that. You've got everything in the right places. You've even got a black ass."

I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush so brightly. "Well, my white girl's black ass is not as nice as your black ass," I said. I worried I had pushed things too far, so I cleared my throat and asked him what he was going to order. After the waiter took our order, I had just enough confidence to resume the subject of the play. "You know, I went out for the role of Tracy... I already told you this, didn't I?"

"Well, you said you hoped for Tracy... maybe Claudia, if they didn't go for you as Tracy."

"Yeah. I'm all wrong for Tracy they said, which is great... Tracy's really meek and mild through almost all of the play..."

"Oh yeah. Hard to see you that way," he said, raising his eyebrows to imply just a bit of an insult.

"I'm so glad I am. I didn't tell you this before, I assumed I wouldn't get it anyway... but the Tracy role involves nudity. So I'm suddenly—"

"Really" Nude on stage?"

"Yeah. So I'm suddenly glad I only have to be in my underwear. Whoever's playing Tracy will have to strip and simulate sex on the stage. I'll just be sort of hanging around in that scene."

"God, that's crazy. How much are they planning to show?" To that I didn't have an answer, and I asked him if he was suddenly interested in the theater, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. "Bobbie would kill me if I did a play like that. Not that I can act anyway... so you gotta tell me, Miss Bold and Beautiful... what would you have done if you had gotten the role of Tracy? How much would you have been showing up there?"

I didn't quite like the question, it was more than a little flirty—maybe the fact I actually did like it but couldn't act on it made me wish he hadn't asked. But I had thought about it quite a bit going in there. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't get it, but as the auditions felt like they were going well, I had to face the possibility I might. Surely they wouldn't expect anything more than a short topless scene? I wouldn't mind appearing in my underwear... maybe even topless and in my underwear, if it came to that. If they wanted anything more... well, I would usually interrupt myself at that point, there were too many actresses, one who would probably beat me out for the role, then it would be her problem.

"I would have done it," I said, not willing to give it much more thought.

"Done what?"

"You know... done anything," I said. Vaughn seemed to enjoy the answer too much, maybe didn't believe me. I insisted I would have, and I started to believe it. "It's not like it would have been my first choice... but I can't just refuse roles because they want to push the boundaries. I wouldn't do nudity just for the sake of nudity, but this is a good role in a great play. It got a few great reviews in the New York version—I think they had a topless scene there, the reviews didn't give much of a description. Not that I'm some great artist. I'm an actress trying to get on the map. This is worth doing just for the money. It's my first paying gig."

"You could probably make more doing porn," he said, and I told him he was funny. "You should think about it. You've got the body for it."

"I notice you didn't say anything about my face." I wasn't angling for a compliment, I was trying to be self-deprecating, but I couldn't pull it off because it was too close to the truth. I had never felt very pretty, always like an ugly little girl, and while I had grown out into a shape I could tell boys liked, I didn't have confidence about my looks.

Vaughn told me, "Put your face on the box of a dirty movie and you'd sell a million copies." He winked, opened his mouth to say something, but then the waiter showed up and derailed our conversation. I would have paid a million dollars myself just to hear him sing my praises in that sweet voice of his.

The rest of lunch was sedate, and Vaughn mostly talked about how Bobbie was trying to get him into vegetarian food. He didn't like it and also didn't want to disappoint her, and maybe I pushed a little too hard for him to stand up to her. He drove me home and gave me more congratulations, saying he would be sure to show up to the first show. I asked if Bobbie would be alright with that, but he only rolled his eyes as if I was trying to start an argument. I probably was.

I got back to the place and had to share the news with my roommate, Miller. I met him in acting class shortly after his divorce and we became good friends—it took me three months of getting to know him before I really believed he wasn't hitting on me, and then I moved in with him and his roommate, Steve, who bailed out on us to get married not long after. While I told Miller about the nudity with the Tracy role, and also let him know I would be in my underwear on the stage playing Joy, I didn't go into those details when Chuck got home. Miller was older than both of us, not a lot older, but old enough that we both asked him things as if he were Yoda on occasion; he was supportive and very cool about everything. As much as I loved Chuck, he was more than a little pervy, walked around the apartment all the time in his underwear, kept suggesting we should "give in to the passion" we both felt, and all manner of things like that. None of these things really bothered me, I either found them easy to ignore or strangely adorable, but the last thing I wanted was for him to find out about me prancing around in a bra and panties on the stage for like six weeks in a row.

I settled into my room and tried to lose myself in a book, but when I heard Chuck get home and start harassing Miller about whose turn it was to cook dinner, I gave up the task and turned my thoughts to what I had committed to. I was determined not to let self-consciousness or fear of looking stupid get to me. If people laughed, they laughed—some of the lines were pretty funny, I could just convince myself they were laughing at what I said, not me. It was a good play, or would be if I didn't ruin it, and it would get me a solid credit for my resume. An obstacle, maybe, but one I could overcome.

I had no idea that mole hill was going to become a mountain.

* * *

By the time Wednesday arrived, I was looking forward to facing my challenge. We all sat down for a table read and signed out our scripts, then filled out the pertinent W2 information as contract players. Our lead in the show, Walter Naylor, filled out everything with a bored look on his face; I could tell he had done this before. I spent all day wondering why he looked so familiar, had looked familiar even during the audition process, and then I heard the stage manager telling the costume lady that he was the son of Dwight Naylor. Of course he was, the same baby blue eyes, the same cleft chin, even his puffy black hair looked like Dwight Naylor back in his late '70s heyday. I had watched

This Way We've Gone

a dozen times on video, and once I knew Walt was his son, I felt like I was surely going to make a fool of myself fawning over his famous father. I ended up keeping my mouth shut. I hoped he didn't think I was rude.

Pam had been really cool to me during the audition process, so I was happy she had made the show—my role would have been hers if she had wanted it, I remembered Rosemary saying, but Pam wasn't the least bit full of herself, I gleaned early. She didn't even mention the pilot she was cast in until Rosemary brought it up. The show dates were already locked down for our production, so the rehearsals might be tougher to work out with Pam in such demand, but we were all assured she would be there for opening night. I bragged to her briefly after we filled out our contracts that we were getting a lot of money for this show, and for me I was, but Pam was polite about it while still failing to conceal she wasn't all that impressed. Of course she wasn't, having a pilot lined up. I could only guess the money in TV was much better.

An older guy everybody called Papa was playing Harry's father, also doing the voice of his boss on the phone, I found out. I thought they were calling him Papa because of his role, but Pam told me later that his name was John Papadakis, and though he was only about fourteen years older than Walt, he was a veteran of the theater and knew Rosemary very well. She cast him in everything she could, Pam informed me. The only thing Pam didn't like about Papa was that he looked down on TV, didn't even do many movies, by his own choice, she said as if she doubted it.

That left a girl I didn't know very well, Lynne, playing Tracy. I wondered how comfortable she was with the idea. She listened attentively to everything, but she was quiet, seemed distracted, and she didn't even seem to feel at ease with the sex scene when we simply read it. Lynne smiled a lot, turned red, and Rosemary kept encouraging her to speak louder during that scene.