Lustopia

Chapter 1 - Aspiration

Becky looked in the mirror and smiled. She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Then, she frowned. Imagining some terrible news, her face fell, she gasped and her eyes welled with tears. She was still for a moment and then her face relaxed and a satisfied smile filled her face. Yes, she could play any part.

She had always longed to be an actor. As a child, she performed for relatives on Christmas Day singing and dancing to the popular tunes of the day. Life was uncomplicated with parents affluent enough to send her to acting classes and help her achieve her ambitions.

Now, past her 18th birthday, she was slim and pretty. with yellow blonde hair, but her life experience was limited. She lived in the countryside and boyfriends she was attracted to were the gnarly rustic type: good for catching a trout, snaring a rabbit or a dance hall squeeze, but never going to open any doors to those sophisticated worlds she dreamt to explore.

Becky had always auditioned for school drama productions and usually was chosen to play a part. Now approaching her 19th birthday and still studying in final year, she was starring in her last ever school drama production.

At the dress rehearsal, Mr. Jones, the drama teacher and producer, announced that he wanted all of the cast to produce a special performance that would elevate the drama department above the mundane to become, "A significant pool of new young talent."

He told the student actors that, this year, they would be enjoying expensive local sponsorship that would raise the school's profile. The homemade costumes of last year would be replaced to theatre standard. Radio mikes, lights and sound system were also getting a substantial investment that would take their performances to a higher level. This excited Becky and seemed to reinforce her inner belief that she was about to follow her chosen career.

Everything was going well until the dress rehearsal for the school pantomime.

As they prepared to go on stage, all the performers had a costume bag provided by the new sponsors with their brand name on it, but Becky couldn't find hers. She asked the costume manager who helped her to look for it backstage. In the frantic period that followed, it became clear that she had been missed out and there was no professional costume for her.

The clock was ticking and she started to get upset. Ellen, the costume manager put her arm around her and suggested she should still go on, but they would improvise a 'near fit' for the official costume.

The players had earlier been told by the producer that, because the professional costumes were technical Lycra material, there was no need for any of them to wear any underwear.

"I don't want to see my fairies' panty lines! It destroys the illusion that you are truly magical beings!", Mr. Jones remarked.

Ellen rushed over to help Becky strip down and to go on stage wearing black tee-shirt and tights over her naked body. The music struck up, and she took the stage as the introductory song began.

Standing in the middle of the chorus line, and looking a little drab in comparison with the rest of her troupe, she resolved to concentrate hard and give her best rendition of the song and dance.

Onstage, it was dark, but she could see twenty or so cast members and teachers sitting in the audience. Their faces were sketchy, but occasionally the stage lights would shine on the eyes or the glasses of the observers. She couldn't help noticing that she was the sole focus of the audience's attention. They weren't looking into her face and eyes; they were staring at her crotch.

Was she invisible? Why was no one looking at her face? She checked again. Their eyes did move from her body to her face and she detected lustful looks in many of the eyes. It put her off her rhythm and she was a second late with a couple of moves.

And still they stared. As the trouper lights ranged across the stage, she realised that they could see straight though the nylon tights and were pretty much enjoying her near naked body. It was quite an energetic routine, and in the process, she started to heat up. She felt the blood flowing between her legs and her tights riding up between her labia.

The sight of her teachers and other relative strangers staring at her body while she energetically sang and danced was extremely unnerving. Despite this, she also felt a sense of excitement. She regained her composure, settled back into the performance and completed the routine.

The band played the last extended chord. The lights came on and she saw for a fleeting moment the faces of the (mostly) men who had been staring back at her. She quickly turned on her heels with the other performers and ran off stage to loud applause from the small audience.

Back in the dressing room there was an excited buzz. Everyone was stripping out of their outfits and into their second costumes. Fortunately, her change costume had now been discovered and she could relax into a full fairy gown.

When it was over, Mr. Jones did a debrief and thanked them all for their efforts. When Becky was about to leave, he took her aside and whispered in her ear, " You were perfect tonight, don't change anything."

Becky left the theatre and took a lift home from her father. He repeatedly asked her, "How did it go?"

She feigned a smile and said, "It was fine." Inside, her mind was confused and racing. She felt violated but also powerful. She wondered, "Is this what sex appeal is, and do I have it?"

That night, she lay in her bed and wondered if something in the world had changed. What did those teachers think of her now? How could she look them in the eye the next day at lessons? Then she remembered the applause, calmed down and lay back under her duvet.

It was warm and close and she spread her legs. Her hand settled between her thighs and she shut her eyes. She re-sang the opening song in her head, trying hard to recapture the exact looks on the faces of the audience. She knew what their expressions meant. A surge of excitement hit her and her fingers started to play. Her mind was racing as she found she was already wet.

She imagined herself dancing sensually in front of the seated group to a tribal rhythm. Now, she was in control and growing in confidence. Her dance became more energetic and erotic as she danced close to them, offering her breasts and hips while they sat, knees spread and unashamedly stroking their cocks to erection. She laughed at their attempts to grope her, nimbly avoiding them until, as the band's music rose to crescendo, they all came in fountains over their expensive suits and fell back in their chairs breathing hard.

Then, she imagined a strong arm halted her dance. She turned to see Mr. Jones was holding her and he pulled her towards him, kissing her forcefully on the lips. And that was all it took to bring herself to a shuddering orgasm.

As she lay drowsily, she reassured herself that this was all a fantasy she had conjured up in her head and that everything at school tomorrow would be fine. She also decided that this fanciful scenario was all part of the true magic of being a versatile performer. Before long, she drifted into a relaxing sleep.

After the first live performance the next day, which involved no wardrobe malfunctions, Mr. Jones came up to her. She looked at him and suddenly remembered the kiss, making her blush.

He said, "I think you have a special talent and should consider applying to the Royal Society of Arts." He said he had a contact within the RSA who looked to him as an agent to recommend bright new talent. His opinion was taken seriously and anyone he recommended had a decent chance of getting in. Was this the sort of thing that would interest her?

Becky's heart started to race and she knew that her reply could shape her future. She told Mr. Jones that she would like nothing more and that she would be delighted to have him put her name forward.

A couple of weeks later Mr. Jones gave her R.S.A. application forms to fill in which she took home and completed with her parents. She would be moving to London if successful, and there was a lot of discussion of her accommodation, budget and welfare in the big city. Her academic results met all the entry criteria but there was a stage performance exam she would have to take. Mr. Jones asked to see her in his office the next day.

At 4 o'clock, he gestured her to sit down at the seat in front of his desk as he slumped into his own chair.

"Becky, many people want to have an acting career but most of them fall by the wayside. Do you know why?"

Becky was unsure how to answer, but replied, "Because they lack real ambition?"

He swiveled in his chair, the tips of his fingers touching as if he was weighing up some metaphysical problem.

"Well, yes, partly." he replied. " I think they quit when the going gets hard and for an actor to be truly breaking through means they must have the mental grit to take the hard knocks. Do you think you are ready for this fight, Becky?"

Becky looked at him earnestly and placed her palms together.

"I want nothing more than a career in acting. I don't know what I'd do with my life otherwise."

"You may be asked to do things you are uncomfortable with but are essential for you to become a versatile actor. Some things may trouble you at the time but, when you look back, you will find were the experiences that gave you the power to turn your hand successfully to any role that is demanded of you".

"What type of actor are you, Becky?"

Becky thought for a moment, and then looking at him directly, said, "Mr. Jones, you know I'm versatile and hard working. I want to succeed by any means possible, I feel this is my destiny."

"Well said, Becky! That's the spirit you'll need to succeed!"

Then quickly, he sighed and was silent for a moment.

"Now I have to tell you something about the real world which may be hard for you. The entertainment industry has changed a lot since I was on the stage. There is much more pressure on actors."

"There may be roles where you are presenting a persona whose views you disagree with. You may be put into a romantic role with someone you don't like at all, or your character may act in a way that you just don't agree with. Being an actor means it isn't your job to question the outcomes or to contradict the producer or director. You just become a medium through which their character flows."

"Producers and directors can be manipulative, coercive and bullying. Some are sexual predators. You have to go into this with open eyes and anticipate there may be problems like these. If you don't want to find yourself in situations like this, you should quit acting and do something else."

"I have a duty of care to you to make sure nothing happens to you which you can't happily cope with. But I have another duty to make sure that you get the best possible start in life that you can. I'm not sure I'm making myself clear here Becky, but please appreciate that I have two duties here which are contradictory."

Becky sat silently thinking. Mr. Jones clearly had her best interests at heart but it was up to her to decide, at the crossroads of her life, which road to follow. She sat silently for a moment and thought of Pierce, her poacher boyfriend who had beguiled her with his exciting adventures of evading the law, and when her parents went on holiday the previous year, he had charmed her, taking her virginity in the old barn. She knew he had had many local girls, but that night lying sweaty in the straw, she felt complete, romantic, and ready for more.

"It's OK sir, I'm not a virgin, I don't think sex scenes would bother me, and my brother says I'm almost as good a street brawler as he is. It will be fine."

Mr. Jones seemed to relax.

"Fine, OK. I'll arrange for your travel and hotel tickets to London. Next week, we'll go to the R.S.A. and I'm sure you will triumph!"

Becky excitedly explained to her father on the trip home that she was going to audition for the R.S.A.

She was walking on air.

Chapter 2 - London

She met Mr. Jones on the platform for the London train a week later. She wheeled an unusually large portable luggage trolley provided by her mum containing a range of outfits to hopefully, suit any scenario the R.S.A. threw at her.

Mr. Jones was excited to meet her and brandished the rail tickets in his hand.

"First class Becky! Nothing but the best for the best."

When the train arrived, they made their way to the first-class carriage. The carriage was half empty, the seats were luxuriant and they were constantly asked whether they would like more snacks or drinks.

"Remind me how old you are Becky?", asked Mr. Jones.

"Nearly nineteen."

"Good, let's have a drink."

The waiter arrived and Mr. Jones said, "We'd like a bottle of Moet champagne and two packets of peanuts."

Their eyes met and they both burst into laughter.

"No point in losing our figures at this moment, eh Becky?" The champagne arrived and the waiter poured two glasses. They 'chinked' their glasses and after only a few minutes, Becky felt decidedly giggly.

The rhythm of the train was like an entrancing music.

Everything that passed the window was amusing. A woman hanging out her washing in the back gardens of a suburban terraced house. Two children playing on a trampoline. An overweight elderly man settling very slowly into a deckchair. She laughed and commented on each. The rhythm of the tracks and the wine induced perfect relaxation.

Mr. Jones looked warmly at her as if he was reading her mind.

"You know, Becky, if you do become successful, you'll leave all that behind."

She smiled and nodded at the time, although later she wondered why Mr. Jones had said it. Did he think she was so shallow to look down on the people living by the railway line going about their daily lives? Or did he really believe she had what it took to succeed at the highest level and her fame would take her away from ordinary people?

Eventually, the train pulled into Euston, and they took their luggage, making their way to the taxi rank.

A taxi pulled up, they climbed in and the driver stowed their suitcases. Then they made their way through the bustling streets towards the hotel. Becky felt her eyes become heavy. She wasn't used to midday champagne, and felt a bit woozy.

Mr. Jones pointed out landmarks along the way as the taxi pulled up at the hotel. He paid the driver and they walked into the hotel foyer. The receptionist said, "Mr. Jones, two single rooms with connecting door?"

He nodded and she passed two keys to him. They took the lift to the rooms and agreed to relax for a while before meeting in the foyer at 3 o'clock.

Becky lay on the bed staring out at the London skyline. She felt success was so close. The theatres in the streets below were calling out to her. Still a bit drunk from the three glasses of champagne, she got to her feet, walked up to the large plate window of her room and, throwing her arms wide shouted, "I'm here, London!"

She unpacked and selected a designer white blouse with a black mini skirt, both presents from her mother. Over it, she wore her faux leopard skin coat and in her handbag placed her purse and phone so that she could call her eager parents with news at the earliest moment.

Her heart was racing so she sat on the edge of the bed and practiced her breathing routine to reduce any potential stage fright. At 2.55 pm she locked her door and made her way to the lift, arriving at the hotel reception with two minutes to spare.

Mr. Jones was waiting for her in the lobby.

"Just in time, Becky, the taxi is on the way."

The taxi arrived and Mr. Jones said, "Carlton Club, please." The driver nodded, logged it into his satnav and the car pulled away.

"Carlton Club - where's that? I thought we were going to the R.S.A.?"

"The Carlton Club is the private club of Sir Stephen Soames who is the chair of the R.S.A. selection board. He prefers holding rehearsals in the club. You may remember him watching your dress rehearsal? He was sitting alongside me."

Becky thought back and then remembered the figure of a middle-aged man with piercing eyes and a particularly leery demeanour. She shivered.

Mr Jones leaned forward in the cab to talk discreetly.

"I've had three students accepted into R.S.A. in the last five years. One was Garth Jones. Remember him from the Panto two years ago?"

"Of course, he was very funny."

"Well, Garth had no problems. The other two were girls and both told me later things had got a little difficult."

"How do you mean?"

"One was groped after the rehearsal and asked for sex in exchange for an R.S.A. place, and the other was repeatedly pestered for a date."

Mr Jones looked her directly in the eyes and leant forwards.

"I don't want you to be involved in anything like that. Here, take this."

His left hand passed a small metal and plastic box to her.

"It's a digital recorder, Becky, and if you think anything untoward is starting to happen, switch it on. And keep it hidden!"

They arrived at a terraced Georgian building with an impressive set of up-lit Roman columns. Mr. Jones paid the taxi driver and they walked together up the imposing steps.

Chapter 3 -- Carlton Club

A uniformed doorman opened the oak door into an impressive marble hall with a reception desk at the far end.

Mr. Jones approached the desk and said, "We're here to meet Sir Stephen Soames' party in the Small Rehearsal Room".

"Ah yes sir," said the receptionist, "they're waiting for you now."

Becky was excited by the strangely ornate environment. No one she knew had been in an interior as plush as this. They were led down another hallway to another large pair of stained oak doors. The doors opened into a softly lit lounge with a small stage and a group of middle-aged men sitting in deep leather armchairs chatting and drinking.

"Ah, here they are!" said a tall well-dressed man in a waistcoat. He was about fifty years of age, with long greyish hair and blue eyes. The eyes were magnetic and had a real presence. Becky remembered them and the way they had stripped her bare at the dress rehearsal. And, there was the same lascivious look.

Introductions and handshakes confirmed this, and she was led to a leather armchair facing the four men.

Sir Stephen said, "Gentlemen, this is Becky, for whom we have big hopes. Mr. Shay Jones here invited me to the dress rehearsal of his local school production and I have to say I was very, very impressed. Hopefully, we can persuade Becky to confirm her potential. Hopefully, you will also endorse my recommendation for her entry to the R.S.A. Tonight, we will have her perform a bit of the Bard and a bit of Chekov and I trust you will agree with me that she is R.S.A. material. Shall we make a start?"

Becky felt a lift when he said this. It seemed he was already on her side. On the other hand, she was also a little concerned that she would be performing two parts, one of which she might be unfamiliar with. She had studied most Shakespeare plays and Chekov's 'The Cherry Orchard' during her school studies, but was unsure what this crucial audition would require.

She focused on her inner confidence and decided to take on uncertainty with bravery. She knew she also had to persuade the rest of the men, all pretty nondescript in their grey suits, that she had what it takes.

"Becky, do you know the Shakespeare play, "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Of course, Sir Stephen, I studied it back in 3rd year."

"And what do you think the Bard was trying to say in that play?"

"That the lovers were doomed by the fighting between their families?"

Sir Stephen smiled. "Well of course he was, but humour me here, here's my take on the play."

"Life is a competitive, shitty, exploitative arena in which humans snarl and fight and wrestle with each other for dominance, and true love is a fiction which should be ground into the earth under a jackboot!"