dontravis.com
blog post #384
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| Courtesy of Needpix.com |
I’m
willing to wager Jarrod’s found the guy he wants, but has he made a mistake?
Bret’s a song and dance man, but he seems to be straight. Let’s see what happens
this week.
*****
THE
DRAMA CLUB
Part 3: THE CHAMELEON (Espsode 2)
Jarrod was
satisfied with his modifications to the lighting by the time try-outs came
around. He had one iron-clad rule, he never used his lights to try and
influence Ms. Atherton for or against anyone; he did the best for every
would-be actor who trod those boards. As Thes hall slowly filled, Jarrod
discovered that Ms. Atherton wasn’t completely loony. She’d located some pretty
decent talent among the music classes and choruses on campus.
Brett auditioned
for the leading male role and did a good job. He had a pleasing tenor that was
clear and true. He didn’t hit one false note in the song he auditioned, one of
the hardest numbers in the play. There was another tenor who was as good as he
was, but no one could touch Brett when it came to dancing.
After auditions
were over, Jarrod sat in his easy chair and watched the stage slowly clear. Man,
he’d have to be on his toes for this one. Most of the time, he set the lighting
for a scene and that was that. Not so, on this one. He began to get excited
over the prospect.
He heard
Brett hit the bottom rung of the ladder. “How’d I do?” he asked when he emerged
onto the platform.
“Dead heat
singing. Blew them away dancing.”
“So what do
you think?”
“Atherton’s
got one problem,” Jarrod said. “Does she pick the best male lead or one that’s
more on a par with the female lead? If there was a girl as good as you, she’d
snap you up in a minute. It’s probably going to be Miriam, and she’s no clumsy
ox, but she’s not up to your speed either.”
Brett
frowned, something he did very handsomely. “Makes sense. Well, we’ll have to
see.”
“Can you
teach her?”
“Sure. I
think she could be pretty good.”
“You
willing to put in some extra time with Miriam?”
“You bet! And
I’ve got rhythm tonight. Let’s dance! At any rate, let’s start teaching you,”
Brett added. “Only problem is you’ll learn backwards. Well, I guess I could
switch,” he seemed to be talking to himself, leaving Jarrod wondering what the
hell he meant. He found out when Brett turned on his tape deck and found some
music he liked. “Two-step. Basic. Come on! Let’s dance!”
Jarrod was
awkward and reticent, but he soon found himself enchanted with the idea of dancing
with this hunky guy. He liked the way their legs touched and enjoyed the feel
of Brett’s strong grip on his hand and arm across his shoulders. When he’d trip
on his own feet, they’d end up groin to groin.
“Okay,”
Brett said after a few minutes, “now I’ll be the woman.” They did some sort of
switch and Jarrod found himself leading… sort of. After awhile, he wasn’t doing
all that badly, and they were dancing closer, more naturally.
A slow
blues number came on, and Brett switched again so that he was back in charge. “Ah,
this kind of song in a dark club with your gal so close there’s nothing between
you…it’s heaven!” He pulled Jarrod hard against him. Their noses almost
touched, and Jarrod looked into the most amazing eyes he’d even seen. Hazel,
but they weren’t. They were blue green with a myriad of other colors in the
iris…brown and black and gray. How had he not noticed them before?
“And when
it gets late and you’re a little loose from the booze, it gets like this,”
Brett said, pulling Jarrod’s head to his shoulder. He released Jarrod’s hand
and put both arms around him, guiding them with his hips. Jarrod could feel the
heat of Bret’s groin against him. In spite of himself, he began to react. The
music wailed on, and Jarrod found his hands crossed behind the other boy’s back
at waist level. They shuffled slowly, the music weaving a spell over them. Jarrod’s
hands moved lower. Boldly, he put them on the boy’s buttocks, pressing their
groins even tighter. Brett said nothing, simply continued to sway with the
music.
The song
died in a long, sad note, and Brett roused himself from its trance, stepping
away suddenly and smiling ruefully. “I-I get carried away sometimes. Sorry.”
“Don’t
worry about it,” Jarrod forced the words through a tight throat.
Silently
acknowledging it was an awkward moment, Brett snapped off the tape deck and
made his excuses. Before leaving, he grasped the rope Jarrod used more often than
not to come and leave the loft.
“Might as
well learn to come and go like you do.”
Jarrod
moved quickly, staying him with a hand on his arm. “You learn to go up first.
Then you can go down.”
“Oh. Thanks.
Wouldn’t want to break a leg for real and give it to Blue Balls by default,
would I?”
As soon as
he was alone, Jarrod turned off the lights in the loft and stretched out in his
chair. On impulse, he reached over and turned on the radio to another blues
number. It wasn’t the same song, but it helped capture mental images of the
last half hour. He reached orgasm recalling his head on Brett’s shoulder, arms
around one another, groins joined.
Brett got
the the male lead, and Ms. Atherton built the show around him. He was by far
the best dancer in the troupe, and the drama coach simply used the female lead
as a prop in the difficult numbers, putting her to the side, tapping her bare
leg seductively while Brett danced his heart out. It worked.
This show
was different from any Jarrod had worked on before. By the end of rehearsal
each night, he was exhausted, and the actual performances would be worse. He
moved constantly, changing spots, blending colors, slipping a filter in here
and out there. And then there was the special lighting that sent bursts of
color across the sets, at times only inky black curtains against which his
lights created the scenes. Several times at the end of rehearsal Jarrod saw
Brett glance up and smile. Jarrod waved back, pleased by the acknowledgment,
wanting desperately for the handsome young man to come up, but realizing they
were both too tired to cope.
The cast
took a one-day break before final dress rehearsal, and that afternoon Jarrod
noticed the rope he used to climb into the loft was jerking and swinging
wildly. He peered over the edge to see Brett struggling about to haul himself hand-over-hand.
More than once, he though Brett would fall, but the dancer doggedly kept at it
until he was within reach. Jarrod dragged him the rest of the way over the
ledge. Brett lay gasping on the floor.
“Dumb.”
Jarrod sighed. “That’s all we need, our star breaking a leg before opening
night.”
“Yeah,”
Brett panted. “But at… least… I did it!”
“But you’ll
leave by the ladder. Or better yet, by the freight elevator.”
“Take…you
up on that.” Brett struggled to a sitting position. “Damn, I’ve got the legs
for it, but you don’t use them much going straight up a rope. Need to work on
upper body strength, I guess.” He patted his chest. “Build this up some.”
“Looks good
to me,” Jarrod said.
They spent
an hour or two talking about the show, making suggestions for improvement,
commenting on how the female lead had improved.
“Man,
you’ve done wonders with the lights. Worthy of a Las Vegas production.”
“Naw, but
it’s pretty good for an amateur effort.”
“Think
you’ve gone beyond that,” Brett countered. ‘You’re something, Jarrod. Everybody
says so.”
“Yeah, but
nobody can agree on what!”
“You don’t
mix much, do you?” Brett said in one of his chameleon changes. Lightning fast
and deadly accurate.
“Naw. Usually
pick one guy to buddy around with. Kind of a one man… guy,” he finished slowly.
How did that sound to a straight guy?.
“Loner,”
Brett said. “I can dig that. But when are we going to go dancing? June can get
you a date if you don’t know a girl who likes to dance.”
“Not good
enough yet. Only had one lesson.” Jarrod wasn’t sure, but he thought Brett
blushed slightly.
“We’ll be
too busy until this play’s over, anyway. We’ll see then, okay?” Brett said.
*****
Oh, my! Jarrod's beginning to pant. The play's about ready to open and he hasn't made his move yet. When will he do it? Tune in again next Thursday.
Until next week.
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Don
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