Our three friends are settling into a groove now, so let's take time for a quick full-circle romp before everything starts to get thrown into a cocked hat. This story should be fun on its own, but to understand what is actually happening, I really recommend starting with Chapter One.
As with all my stories, should you be looking for 'Realism', just move on. I aim for 'Ridiculously Plausible'.
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Tuesday. Final performance day.
I walked into the small theater where Acting 101 was held. I meandered up to the row behind where Steff sat, and sat down behind her. Idly, I gave her shoulders a quick massage. Then I extended my efforts because her shoulders were tense in anticipation. We had decided not to tell anyone in class that we had started dating in the time since we had all chosen our final performance scenes. Half the class assumed we were dating all along. The other half, who had also assumed that, but who we had told vociferously that we were not, would only fill the air with "A-Ha!"s and "I knew it!"s. Also, our scene was sexy and romantic, and we'd look like better actors if no one knew we were fucking now.
Just before class began, our friend Tony hustled in, his scene partner and girlfriend trailing behind. He plopped down next to Steff and without preamble, began to beg. "Friday night, guys. Please! You know you want to," he wheedled. He had been after us to join his and Kimmie's improv team since before they first competed themselves. A new series of performance competitions would begin in the new year and Tony was desperate to get us up to speed with the detailed ins and outs before then.
Steff and I were saved from saying no right then, an answer we both privately were finding it harder and harder to give, by the arrival of our professor. Time for performances!
Tony and Jimmie were in the first half hour, and they did great. Tony was unable to resist and ad-libbed a line. It got a huge laugh, but it derailed Kimmie a little bit. And after they were finished, it got him a scolding from the prof about the inadvisability of rewriting a scene in front of a live audience.
Steff and I were third from the last to go. I suspected the professor had manipulated the supposedly random order of performances because he knew our particular scene well and was convinced we would either kill, or crash and burn spectacularly. Either way, we wouldn't screw up the whole class that way.
We killed.
The scene isn't a comedy, but it has some laughs. All my funny lines got appreciative chuckles, along with a few raunchy hoots at the dirty ones. Steff had fewer comedic moments, but she delivered one so well it got a reaction that made us have to pause for our classmates to finally shut up. The sad and angry parts were met with strained, appreciative silence. The outright sexy parts got plenty of gratifying rumbling from the audience. The final kiss that we ended the scene with resulted in a lot of audible "Whoa!"s from the crowd, along with tons of applause.
That kiss was not in the original script, but I had spontaneously kissed Steff when we finished our first really good rehearsal, and we'd decided to keep it in. I'll admit that when the time came, I chickened out from kissing Steff as long and hard as we had rehearsed, but it did the job.
I knew we had killed for sure when, as the applause died, I heard Carson Williams, hands down the best actor in the class, and whose pairing went next, say loudly, "You mean I have to fucking follow
that
?"
He needn't have worried. His timing is impeccable, his partner was good, and they were doing a Marx Brothers skit.
When the unfortunate pairing who had to go last after Carson had finished their honestly quite serviceable performance, the professor announced that there would be no class Thursday, since we had gotten in everybody that day. We all cheered and filed out of the theater for the last time... at least until most of us returned for 102 in the Spring semester.
Tony descended on us as we left. "You two were like Hanks and Ryan up there," he exclaimed before immediately returning to the subject of us doing improv in front of strangers for (almost no) money.
On a post-performance high, I look at Steff. She nodded and we gave in, agreeing to give a try Friday night.
Since we had no class Thursday afternoon, and we both had nothing else going on except studying for a couple of finals, Steff and I decided to hang out together instead. And since Atlanta was is the midst of a crazy warm late Fall heat wave, Steff finally invited me over to enjoy her pool.
I arrived about one-thirty as promised, and rang the bell. I was wearing my baggy blue board shorts and a faded, ridiculous Garfield t-shirt. I had a towel and a bag of regular clothes to change into if the water was actually warm enough to get in. I also had a text book, under the pretense that we might actually study.
Steff answered the door in a bikini. In fact, it was the red bikini she had (mostly) worn in the photo shoot that had accidentally brought us together in the first place. We exchanged a quick kiss and she danced back into the house. "I stuck a foot in the water. The sun and the heater has it feeling perfect! Honestly, it is cool to be treating and heating the pool this week, instead of draining it for the Winter." she said excitedly, as we went through the house.
Steff and Meredith live in a large house in the suburbs. There isn't a lot of land, but the backyard was large enough to more than accommodate a small but very deluxe pool and nested hot tub, their surrounding patio, and a stretch of grass. The back was also surrounded by a thick hedge of high yews, which were standard issue for most of the backyards in the development, apparently. They provided some excellent privacy, I reflected as my gaze slipped inexorably from the hedge to Steff's tight, red bikini-clad ass.
"Beer?" asked Steff, reaching into a small cooler and grabbing a Coors. I said please and she tossed me the can, before grabbing a second for herself. We cracked open our beers and toasted to the "A+"s we had received in our emails that morning for our performance. Yep, we had killed.
"The only problem about Tuesday," I mused, "was my letting Tony seize the moment to rope both of us into joining the improv team."
"Oh, come on," reassured Steff, "we were both going to give in eventually. I know I'd already given up internally."
"Me too," I said. "Although I'm glad to hear you say that I didn't involuntarily draft you." I fumed just a little bit before going on, "I'm just grumpy that we didn't take the opportunity to make them bribe us into it. Dinner at some place like Trader Vic's on Tony's dime would have hit the spot."
"Yeah, that is true," agreed Steff, a little crestfallen. Then she brightened, "Hey! You really suck as a negotiator, you know that?" I cheerfully flipped her off and reminded her that she could have held out for a price also.
Steff stickler tongue out at me and shrugged. "Alea iacta est."
"I took Latin too, Steff," I said acerbically to hide my nervousness. "But we don't actually cross the Rubicon until tomorrow night, and I'm worried that things might go well."
"You are worried that they might go
well
?" asked Steff with a bark of laughter.
"Yeah," I shrugged. If they went too well, I might start to like it too much. "If they go too well, I'll have to hang out with Tony a lot more," I finished with a mock shudder.
"Heaven forbid," said Steff, taking a sip of beer. "But that is for worrying about tomorrow. This afternoon is for drinking a beer or two, jumping the water if I get the chance, and studying hard so I don't need to tomorrow."
She seemed entirely serious about all the studying. My lone text book suddenly seemed like it was going to be a lot less sufficient for my needs. "You are really going to study that much?" I asked. "I mean, you just got an A+ in the only class you haven't seemed convinced that you were going to ace."
"Stephanie is convinced that she is going to ace the other classes because she studies so hard for them, Scott," said Meredith from behind us. We both turned and saw Meredith, in full Alpha-Lawyer suit and get up, briefcase still slung over her shoulder.
"Hey Meredith!" called Steff. "What are you doing home at two o'clock on a Thursday?"
Meredith and I simply exchanged glances. My gaze said wordlessly, "What she asked." Among other things...
Meredith sighed. "I find myself scheduled for a dinner later this evening with a family that are among my best clients," she said a bit distastefully. "We are to celebrate a recent good fortunate, and to plot how to screw over the other, even more odious, half of their family. I've already billed eight hours today, so I thought I'd take the afternoon off to steel myself."
"Would a beer help your blackened, shriveled, litigator's soul," asked Steff cheerfully, pulling another Coors from the cooler and holding it up.
"Please."
Steff didn't even get up. She just tossed the beer to Meredith, who caught it easily, without looking. She cracked it open and took a long pull with her always alluring crooked lips.
I returned to my question. "Come on Meredith, Steff is going to get into whatever law school she wants."
Steff muttered, "Ha!"
Meredith calmly replied, "I believe that you are probably right. But when the school she most wants to get into is Harvard Law, it pays to take every precaution."
"Well, aren't you fancy?" I said to Steff. "How have you never told me that you were hunting the biggest of game?"
"I'm highly competitive, remember," Steff replied with a smirk, and returned to her Advanced Statistics text.
Meredith looked up at the sun and asked, "It is totally gorgeous out here today, isn't it? Would you two mind if I joined you for a while?"
"Sure! Come on," said Steff. I had learned almost from the start that I was unlikely to be consulted about much of anything when the two of them were together.
I realized then that my one book would be sufficient to my needs after all. I was unlikely to be able to pay much attention to my work, not with Steff's hard, perfect body in that barely there bikini and Meredith in that gorgeous peach-colored suit dress with the deceptively high hem and just more than a skosh of cleavage.
Yeah. Poor, poor, pitiful me.
"Let me get rid of this," said Meredith, indicating her briefcase. "I may actually read for pleasure for a bit," she added, mostly to herself, and headed back into the house.
I figured there was an inevitable hard-on or two in the offing this afternoon, especially with the two of them out there, so I decided to save my forays into the water for when I need to hide those. I picked up my book and tried to study. At least it was an interesting subject; interesting enough to keep me from constantly peeking over the top to gaze at Steff's shapely tits in that bikini top and imagining her out of said top. My first view of Steff's naked tits had been in those photos of her in and half out of the same red bikini. The pictures would always have a special place in my mind. So, yeah, I peeked. A lot.
But not constantly.
I was in a rare moment of actual immersion in the text, finally puzzling out an obscure point that had escaped me before then, when I heard Steff practically shriek, "Meredith!" I jerked my eyes up to Steff and she was sitting bolt upright on her chaise. Her expression was half amused, but fully scandalized.
