This is the twentieth story.
This is the story of Maria.
I wouldn't say I've had the most successful of acting careers but I've bounced around here and there, appeared in my fair share of projects. This sometimes includes student productions at local colleges, taking roles in short films for little to no pay - mostly no pay - to build some credits, get material for my reel, and maybe make a connection with a future power player in the industry. I wasn't the only actor doing this, this is a competitive field in Los Angeles, and every student project had two to three other aspiring professionals on it just hoofing it to try to make the dream come true.
This is how I met Maria.
I was the lead in a sci-fi short, playing an astronaut stranded on a different planet, dusty and arid (the usual alien topography, since there's a lot of desert around the city you can sneak a film crew onto). While stranded, this guy thinks back on his life on Earth, the woman he left behind, why he went to space...but mostly the woman he left behind. Because the woman he left behind was played by Maria, and Maria was fucking gorgeous.
Tall, slender as a willow tree, with dark curly hair, big silent-film eyes, and small, slightly parted lips. Twenty-three years old but you might've guessed she was eighteen and you also might've guessed thirty, her appearance conveying youth and freshness as well as thought and maturity. She didn't have much in the way of tits and ass, but you'd put up with anything just to stare into that face, those eyes, over a candlelit dinner or underneath you during sex. She looked like a model and was one, and maybe - likely - a better one than an actress. She didn't have much to say in the film, but when she did talk it came across very strange, like she didn't belong on Earth but on the alien planet my character was stranded on. I think she got the part because, well, we know why she got the part. You'd cross deep space to fuck this girl no matter what she sounded like, and the audience would inherently root for the main character to get home to fuck her again.
When she wasn't talking in front of a camera though she was effervescent, blindingly so, with a lovely giggling laugh and a killer smile. She didn't look a thing like Farrah Fawcett, more like a cross between Morena Baccarin and Emmy Rossum, but her vibe was that classic Farrah Fawcett poster brought to life. She was also a bit saucy, confident in her body and comfortable with sex and more than willing to joke about it. There were no sex scenes in the film, just a lot of cuddling in bed and staring into each other's eyes and one gentle kiss, but rehearsals for those moments invariably ended with Maria turning to the director and saying "and then we fuck?" The director, a 20-year-old bespectacled beanpole, would chuckle nervously and deflect, unsure how to talk to this beautiful woman he so dearly wanted to sleep with, and Maria would break out in laughter at the terrified look on his face. One time I kept it going, told the director I was comfortable with whatever, he just had to say the word. Maria looked me up and down with an appraising, approving look, said, "Jack's down," and then we held eye contact for a split second longer than I expected, and I wondered, was this all a joke? Or did I actually have a chance here?
That can be a difficulty with saucy women, especially saucy actresses. They move through the world with an alluring, forthright confidence, but, as is their right, it doesn't mean they want to fuck everyone they act that way around. So figuring out if it's real when it's directed at you can be difficult. You just can't be scared to shoot your shot, and you have to accept you might get shot down in return.
The production was only a few days long, but Maria and I spent enough time lying next to each other in bed, chatting and joking as lights and lenses were changed, me shirtless and her in a slip, that a casual intimacy grew between us. She was the first to ask about romantic partners, usually a good sign.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Our faces were mere inches apart and her gaze was direct, piercing. I knew she assumed I was a fuckboy (even if this was before that particular term took off). I shifted slightly in the bed, not from discomfort, just to remind her of my body next to hers.
"I'm all over the place," I said. "My schedule, every day. How I make money. I couldn't give a girl the attention she deserves."
She hmph-ed, looking ever-so-slightly taken back, maybe not having expected a mature response.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked.
"No."
I laughed out loud. "You're joking."
A huge surprised grin broke across her face. "Why?"
"Every single guy in front of and behind a camera must want to ask you out. It must've happened a ton. What's your red flag?"
"I don't have one!"
"I don't believe you. How many cats do you have?"
"Just one! That's offensive!"
We were both grinning, and she was clearly not offended.
"Oh, so you're incredibly clingy," I said.
"I'm very chill."
"I mean that's the vibe I get. But we haven't gone on a date."
"We haven't."
"Not yet."
I winked. She stared at me for a second before looking away at the work continuing around us. I knew some of the crew guys were listening in, could even see the sound guy in my periphery, his headphones on, looking down at his wireless receiver and smiling slyly.
Maria looked back at me, composing herself, shifting her body in the bed now. I felt our legs touch. Her huge eyes bored into mine, maybe waiting for my follow-up question. But we were professionals, in an intimate work environment.
"When you wrap," I said, "let's talk."
