Mr Mento

The theatre was dark except for the equity light at center stage, and the Exit signs that glowed at the four corners of the orchestra and up in the back of the balcony. I flipped the switch on the work lights and the fluorescents above the stage flickered on. I started to unload the chairs from a cart. When they were all offloaded, I struck the cart and returned to set the chairs in a semicircle touching the curtain line. The stage door on the left opened and shushed closed. I turned to see a middle aged man carrying a suit bag over his shoulder.

"Mr. Mento?" I asked.

"Yes," he smiled and approached extending his right hand.

"I'm Jeff Bronson, your stage manager. I'm also here to run the lights. Thanks for the cue sheet you e-mailed." I released his firm clasp and turned back to the stage and the twenty chairs I had set. "You like it this far downstage?"

"Yeah, looks real good." He glanced left and right. "Dressing room open?" He looked at his watch.

"There's a stairway downstage in the right wing. It'll take you under the stage to make-up. Hit the light switch at the top of the stairs or you'll be in the dark. The dressing rooms are marked. Take your pick."

"Thanks." He turned and then turned back. "Um...I've got some swag out in the van. Can you help with that? It's only two boxes."

"Is your rig open?"

He dug in his pants pocket for his keys and tossed them to me. "It's parked right outside the end of that hallway." He gestured toward the door through which he had entered.

I nodded. "I've got some tables behind the traveller. OK if we put the merchandise in front of the apron?" I pointed downstage through the open curtain.

"Perfect! See you in a few." He waved.

I moved downstage to the procenium at stage right and opened a long, black, leatherette case and assembled a tripod concealed inside. I grabbed a loop on top of what looked like an upside down window shade and hooked it to the top. I extended the rod and exposed a garish canvas with the words "The Marvelous" splashed on it. I crossed the stage and repeated the process for a sign that read "Mister Mento."

The van was hard to miss. It displayed the same circus-like font declaring "The Marvelous Mister Mento." I unlocked and opened the sliding door and located the boxes--one full of paperback books, the other of DVDs. I toted them back to the theater in two trips and spotted them in a couple front row seats. I set up the tables and put some skirting around them. I emptied the books from their box and arranged them on one surface and the DVDs on the other. Stepping back, I surveyed the display. It looked good. Mr. Mento would be able to station himself conveniently between the tables and sell his stuff when he was done on stage.

The main light booth would be overkill for this show, so I retrieved the "mini me" from the vault and plugged it into the auxiliary jack in the left orchestra seating. I set up a general cue and then returned to the stage to strike the equity lamp and kill the work lights. Mr. Mento was just climbing the stairs dressed in his tux; his bowtie dangled from the coat pocket. I waited in the darkened left wing surveying the stage.

"How's that for a main cue?" I asked. "You got all the downstage from the chairs and about six feet upstage before it'll start to clip your head."

Mr. Mento nodded and took the stage checking out the illumination. He stopped at center.

"Six feet is plenty. More than that and I'd disappear from the sightline anyway. Can you give me a little color?"

"Warmer or cooler?" I asked a I jumped down from the front of the stage and went to the light board.

"Warmer, please."

He looked at his hand as I tweaked the cue with some rose and bastard amber.

"Great! Right there." He said. I programmed the cue and brought up the preset which included the house lights. "You go to school here?"

"Yeah. I'm a senior."

"Do you mind giving me some help when I ask for volunteers tonight? It's always nice to get an entertaining mix. I like to have about seventy percent female, high school age to elderly. The more interesting they are to the community the better."

I was about to agree to help when my girlfriend, Jen, stepped onto the stage from the wings. "Maybe Jen could do that, Mr. Mento." I grinned. "She'd make a great beautiful assistant! Practically typecast."

"Do what?" Jen asked walking downstage gracefully and sitting on the edge.

"Mr. Mento needs someone to help him select his victims...

"Volunteers," Mr. Mento interjected.

I nodded. "...volunteers for the hypnotism."

"What would I have to do?" Jen asked.

"Well, I need enough volunteers to fill the twenty chairs on stage. Like I told Jeff, I like seventy percent to be female eighteen and older. The rest, obviously, can be male with the same characteristics. Beyond that, they need to be interesting to the community. Nobody comes to see me hypnotise people, they come to see friends and acquaintances hypnotized."

Jen shrugged and sat dangling her denim clad legs over the front of the stage. "Sure."

"Ok, we'll meet when the house opens and I'll give you a general overview, and I'll work your instructions right into my patter. Maybe we'll include you into some other parts of the show, too. Just listen and we'll be fine."

Jen nodded and slid off the stage apron, approached me, and smiled accepting my warm kiss on the lips.

"How was wrestling practice?" She asked.

"Good. Coach was happy. I think we're in good shape. It's really cool to see the young guys stick around through tournament time. That never happened with basketball"

Actually Coach was more than happy. He'd taken me aside after workout to tell me how proud he was of my one and only year of wrestling. He'd said that if I'd have turned out since I was a freshman, I'd already be a state champion. Then he slapped me on the back and sent me to the showers

Jen put her arm through mine and hugged it tight. "This time Friday we'll know if you're in the finals."

"Sure. We'll know by early afternoon. Hey, I think I have that new move down pretty well."

Jen smiled, her eyes twinkled. "Wanna try it out on me, now? She teased.

"Oh, no...it's top secret. You're not in my weight class, anyway. Wouldn't be fair." She slapped my shoulder and put on her pouty face.

Looking at the empty stage, I had a thought. "Wait! I think there is something in costumes that would turn that frown upside down!" I joked. Mr. Mento had worked himself into the orchestra and was re-arranging his sale merchandise. "You mind if I doll Jen up a bit, Mr. Mento?"

He checked his watch again. "She looks fine like she is, but I don't mind. We've got plenty of time if you don't take more than a half hour."

"No problem. I can get her out of her clothes in no time at all." Jen backhanded my shoulder again...harder. I suddenly actually heard what I was saying. "Ouch. Sorry. That didn't come out the way I intended. Come on."

Costumes were stored in a long, repurposed hallway running the length of the top of the theater that probably was intended to be an extension of the corridor through the second floor classroom wing. When the school had been built, there was optimism that the economy would boom forever and that the school would need to be expanded eventually. So much for local economic theory. Hoped for growth never materialized. While the nearby college town gained population, our predominantly rural farming district continued to shrink in population. We climbed the stairs up the back wall of the stage to the second floor level. The door was never locked so we went right through. I flipped the lights on, and we threaded our way through the props and into costume storage.

Costumes from the last two shows were hanging on racks at the front of the long term space on either side of a central aisle. The evening gown I was looking for was easy to spot. The part had been played by Wendy Fromm who was the same height and weight as Jen but not as well endowed.

Jen's tits were wonderful. I spent ten hours a day with a hard on because of those babies. We'd been going together since early December, about a month after football season got over. Long enough for me to have gotten to second base...at least I thought it was second base--I don't play baseball...so they were pretty firmly impressed in my memory.

"Here you go, Jen," I said as I handed her the gown. "Wendy wore it in Lend Me a Tenor."

"Hmmm. My bra straps will show, but I've got an idea. Turn around."

I know a lot of people think kids fuck at the drop of a hat, but the rules of senior high relationships are more complicated than stereotypes allow...especially in our little farm town. None of the realities were designed to match us up forever, but to manage the tensions of trying to discover more about people of the opposite sex. Dating was exclusive until a couple 'broke up'. Break ups signaled availability, rinse and repeat. The choices people thought you made, not necessarily the ones you did make, during these serial relationships determined your reputation. Your reputation determined the spectrum of available new partners.

I had gotten all the way to eighteen years without getting to the promised land (although I always had a girlfriend). I did have to admit that I had the example of my Mom and Dad to help me cool my jets. They'd had to get married when Mom was younger than Jen was now, and I had grown up with the knowledge that they had 'Plans, Big Plans' for me that didn't include early matrimony. I dated, but they watched me like a couple of hawks, so fellow students probably perceived me as being more of a straight arrow than I would have wished...especially the girls.

I mock bowed and turned my back on her. I could hear the rustle of fabric as my eyes wandered over the length of the hall-like space...and locked on the full length mirror in props. There was Jen's reflection framed perfectly in the glass. She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off revealing a nude colored, sheer bra. She pushed the straps off her shoulders and withdrew her arms. Her firm, young tits barely moved as she unzipped her jeans and peeled them off. They stood on her ribcage without any support. Unlike so many adolescent girls' breasts, Jen's had a beautiful shape. They started at her collar bone and descended in a graceful slope. Two teardrop shapes ending in small pink nipples surrounding little raspberries of nipples. I'd felt them, and I couldn't understand how something so soft was so strong. Her panties matched her bra and I could see the shaved smoothness of her mons. Now, that, I had only felt through her clothes. She turned full back as she put on the gown and I got a great view of her athletic ass. My dick was hard as rock, but, then, it generally was.

"OK, you can turn around now. Zip me up, Jeff."

Because of years of practice, I managed to get my cock in a more comfortable position as I turned. I took the three steps between us and slid the zipper up. It encountered a bit more resistance as it approached the top, but Jen exhaled and we were zipped.

"Jeez!" I whispered as she turned back to me. Packing her in there had created a beautiful line of cleavage. "There's a couple pairs of jazz shoes along the wall. Find your size and I'll meet you back downstairs."

"No way! You're not leaving me up here alone!" She grabbed a likely pair of shoes and hurried to catch me, taking my arm. We turned out the lights and descended the stair. Mr. Mento was in the wing as we appeared from behind the upstage leg.

"I'm going to open the house, Mr. Mento. If you need me for anything, I'll be at the light board," I said.

Jen smiled nervously and fanned her flushed face. "I'm so nervous!" She whispered.

Mr. Mento smiled. "Nothing to worry about, Jen. Would you like to do some deep breathing to calm those nerves?"

"OK." Was the last thing I heard before I left for the front of the house. I went up the house right aisle to the back where I propped opened the entry doors and positioned a table and a few folding chairs for the Community Concert staff. They never sold many tickets on these Tuesday night shows because the seats were mostly held by subscribers, so they didn't need anything elaborate.

It felt a lot like a town-wide block party when folks started to show up. Everybody knows everybody else in small towns, and conversations freewheeled around the lobby as the early birds made up for lost time talking to friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Greenlow showed up on the dot of 7:30 with her cash box and programs. I left her to her tasks and returned to my station in the extreme left front row. From there I could see most of the stage and all the area we were going to use. I had a good view of the house and a bit into the left wing where Jen and Mr. Mento stood conversing quietly. I could just make out their outlines in the darkened wing.

The house was filling rapidly as I reviewed my cues. At 7:55 I made my last round of the backstage and called places for both of my performers. Jen looked radiant, all traces of her nerves had vanished.

I returned to the light board and waited for the signal from Mrs. Greenlow to start the show. She closed up the doors at the back of the house and made her way to her seat across the aisle to my right. For several seconds she surveyed the room. Satisfied there were no late-comers to accommodate, she turned and sat, then smiled and nodded to me.

I blacked the stage and dimmed the house lights. The voices in the audience hushed. I let the tension grow a bit before I hit the first cue. Mr. Mento appeared center stage in a cloud of red smoke. The audience gasped and Mr. Mento had them in the palm of his hand. The show was tight. He started with a variety of magic tricks and illusions. His patter was funny and just so slightly risqué. Nothing really blue, all good natured.

Fifteen minutes in, he introduced Jen. "Ladies and Gentlemen...and Mrs. Greenlow!" He bowed in her direction. "Thank you for your warm applause. As we go into the next portion of the show, I will need the help of my lovely assistant for the evening. Please, give it up for one of Clark High School's own...Ms Jennifer Bowman!"

She took the stage like a pro. I decided the dress had been a stroke of genius on my part. She seemed so comfortable up there. I wished we had a follow spot operator.

The next portion of the show was a collection of mentalist tricks. Jen was fully involved and flawless as she helped Mr. Mento identify "what she was holding in her hand." She started to depart from the stage and work the crowd. They ended with a flashy mind reading trick where Mr. Mento 'psychically' reproduced a drawing one of the audience members had made on a notecard.

"Thank you again, ladies and Gentlemen." Mr. Mento bowed. "For the remainder of the night, I'll need some volunteers from the audience." Jen had already started a few toward the stage. Mr. Mento humorously questioned each participant asking their names and ages and what they thought was the most interesting thing about them before they were seated. The crowd chuckled and laughed along.

He and Jen met at the last chair with the final volunteer. Perfect timing. Jen swept downstage of the volunteers and disappeared offstage right. I dimmed the stage to a mysterious twilight.

"Thank you all for your help. Now, it's unfortunate that not all volunteers are created equal. I'm going to test you all for your strength of will and ability to concentrate. Half of you will stay here with me and the others will return to your seats to watch the show. Take your hands and grasp them together by interlacing your fingers." He demonstrated for both the volunteers and the audience and waited while those on stage became ready. "Now, raise your arms in front of your body as if you are hugging a barrel." He demonstrated and then waited until they all had copied him. "Please, close your eyes." He waited until they all had complied. "Keep your fingers entwined. No matter what happens, keep your hands together." He silently went upstage of his line of participants.

Starting on one end of his row, he walked down behind the line and tried to part the hands of each person. They all parted with varying degrees of ease except for Tom McDougle who succeeded in keeping his hands clasped. He went back down the line speaking into the ears of ten volunteers who then stood up and went back to their seats. Curiously, I noticed the one who had held his grip was one of those who returned to the audience. When he was done, he had six women and four men for the show.

Give them a hand, folks!" The audience broke into a polite round of applause while Jen removed the ten empty seats and redistributed the other ten chairs and people equally distant on stage. When she was done, she disappeared off stage again.

"We'll begin by establishing a meditative safe place for our wonderful volunteers.

He moved upstage of the line. "I want you to take a deep breath, hold it in, and let your body relax... Now exhale...and take slow, deep, even breaths...

Think about a warm bath... imagine yourself lying in the warm water not touching the edges or the surface of the tub... letting it cover you, warming you... enveloping you in a cozy, blanket-like warmth...a glow of comfort and safety.

You are feeling calm... you feel safe... your body is becoming still.. feeling heavy... you don't want to move...

Listen...

I am going to count backwards from ten... on each number, you will find yourself exploring the depths of this deep, deep relaxation...

10...9...8...7...

6... You're half-way there... you are very calm...

5... Listen closely

4... Breathe

3... Very relaxed...

2... Almost there...

1... Completely entranced by my words...

"Good, now you've achieved a wonderful level of relaxation and I'd like to make sure that we can have this relaxation available to us any time we want it. From now on, any time I say the phrase 'Blue Rose', instantaneously go to this level of trance or deeper.

'Blue rose' takes you deeper.

In a moment I'm going to say that phrase again -- just feel how wonderfully you relax when I say it... 'Blue Rose'... that's right... even deeper.

"Let's practice that a few times...when I count one, two, three you will awaken feeling rested and refreshed... one... two... three." The subjects took deep breaths and raised their heads to look around.

"Blue Rose!" All ten closed their eyes and relaxed immediately into their previous postures. The audience chuckled. "Good! Good! Awaken when I count...one...two...three..." All on stage took longer to resurface. "Blue Rose!" It was entertaining to watch the folks swing from trance to awareness and back. It was amazing that none of them fell out of their chairs.

"Any suggestion I give, you will take to heart... it will become part of what makes you you, and what makes you think... It will be impossible to not act upon these

suggestions, it would be like going against a belief you've held for your entire life...

Allow all of this to sink in... close your eyes, and take deep breaths...

The rest of the show was alive with activity. You could almost call it a ten ring circus. Each person was a willing co-performer and the action never lagged.

Vicki Hudson was my favorite. Mr. Mento'd set her up doing one thing like dancing then would change her task to being drunk or stoned. Vicki was no straight arrow, so she was pretty convincing. Finally, he started to dismiss the players from the stage one at a time. Vicki got instructions that her right index finger was so sticky that, whatever Mr. Mento attached it to, she would be unable to remove it until Mr. Mento did it for her. She spent several minutes following other people through their exits and tasks. Finally, she was released from the other performers only to be stuck to a corner of the stage. She tried everything to get free and back to her seat to no avail. At last, Mr. Mento took pity on her for his big finale and got her into her audience seat and stood near his table as he thanked everyone for being there.