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 ï>¿A Night In The Theatre by Vitavie

   A bully director and nude actress - Helplessly waiting.

   The young actress frantically tries the theatre doors, dripping with
rain, throbbing with stress.  After trying a few, she finally finds an open
one, bursts inside and is finally able to shut out the raging storm.  She
is panting, shivering, almost crying.  She is far too late.  The bad luck
she has had on the way here is indescribable.  One metro that arrived late
and a connection she narrowly missed.  Worst of all, when she left the
underworld, the beautiful summer's day had turned into a furious
thunderstorm.  And, you know what, she failed to bring an umbrella!  It was
summer, wasn't it?  The white summer dress she selected with care is soaked
and sticks to her body.  She is wearing nothing else, apart from a simple
white culotte and red pumps, to which she chose a lipstick that matched. 
Well, she will confess - it was summer and she wanted to look seductive and
impress the director...  So, she wears no bra.  Her breasts are young and
firm after all.  But look at her now...  a tramp!  She sighs deeply.

   She spots herself in one of the large mirrors in the hall and is
shocked. The wet dress is diaphanous and she looks practically naked.  She
clearly sees her belly button and areolas.  Her nipples are cold, wet and
hard.  Her carefully applied make-up has also run out.  She sees a vulgar
second-rate slut.  But even if she had brought another dress, or a pair of
trousers and a blouse, or a hairdryer to dry her hair, or her arsenal of
make-up, she still wouldn't have felt she had the time to change and
smarten herself up.  For her being late does not cover it - she should have
been here half an hour ago and audition for a role she would love to play -
no, that she must have!  Because she admires the director, Sylvain
Copain-AuziÃ"res, deeply.  Yes, but what's worse, she really needs the
work.

   True that she would like to work with the director Copain-AuziÃ"res. 
But it is also true that she harbours an anxiety -- in plain words, she is
afraid of him, for he has a reputation for being ruthless.  Is he still
around at all?  The door was still open, thank God.  What should she do? 
Leaving is not an option, but she can't change clothes and fix her make-up.
What can she do but pull herself together, walk into the hall with her head
held high and hope that he is still here?

   She is young, twenty-five, but has already built up a good CV of roles.
Since she caused a furore in 'Virginia Woolf', while in fact still at drama
school, she played mainly relationship dramas, to critical acclaim.  Played
- because her last role, Nora in Ibsen's Doll House, dates back to eighteen
months ago.  She had not finished the series of Ibsen performances by a
week when her boyfriend ended their relationship.  She had not seen this
coming at all.  He was an actor himself, good at pretending, and had taken
up with a friend of hers, who had played the part of Christine in the
Doll's House performance -- had been a close colleague!  Her
self-confidence had been shaken, so much so that she had been off the rails
for a year, could not act anymore.  She could not act and pretend she was
not shocked.  It was only in the last month or so that she had re-immersed
herself in the audition circus.  Cautiously, too cautiously probably,
because she didn't make a big impression and the competition is huge.  So,
it's now or never.  She has to succeed here!

   The piece is new and written by Copain himself.  "Attendant sans
DÃ(C)fense" (or "Helplessly waiting").  She has not seen the whole script.
Anything but.  Only a motto was made available.

   '"You are not prepared to be mine.  Not fully and unconditionally."

   He looks at me for a few moments as I stand there, waiting.  He then
quietly closes the front door and is gone.'

   Copain-AuziÃ"res, 2021

   She has been chewing on this.  There is a 'he', who apparently thinks
that the 'I' does not put enough into the relationship they have together.
And then 'he' walks off and closes the proverbial door.  'I' behaves
passively, and just waits.  'He' seems possessive, someone who doesn't
tolerate contradiction.  Not that we see 'I' give any contradiction.  'He'
is controlled.  'He' does not slam the door.  'I' is in control too, as she
shows no signs of despair.  She is just 'waiting.' Unusual.  The young
actress doesn't know what the history and context is of course.  But if
these three sentences serve as a motto, then that history shouldn't put the
message in a completely different light, should it?  So, the play is about
an unequal relationship in which both partners restrain themselves.  Of
course, she does not know whether the 'I' isn't about to break out in
tears. She feels that is very likely.

   Especially as the actress who wants to play the 'I' character is
currently feeling so close to tears herself.  But she pulls herself
together...

   ...  and she pushes open the theatre door.  Without delay, a voice
shouts at her, 'So!  You are late!'

   The theatre is pitch-dark, the stage sparsely lit by a spotlight or two.
From the shadows, a dark figure steps centre stage.  She recognises Copain.
He is wearing a sharp black suit, with a ditto shirt and tie.  He beckons
impatiently.  'Come on!  Come here!' The actress walks up the aisle.

   'God, and you look awful too!  How dare you present yourself this late
and looking like a vagabond!'

   Copain-AuziÃ"res is at the stage front.  The actress is dumbfounded.

   'Now then, say "Apologies, Monsieur Copain".'

   What is this?  She does not even think about it.  Her confusion is
immediately over and replaced by anger.

   'What are you standing there for?  Repeat after me, "Apologies, Monsieur
Copain".'

   She walks towards the stage, halts right near it, directly under him and
looks up, a nervous smile on her lips.  He does not return her smile.

   'I'm sorry I'm late, Mr.  Copain, and that I'm rained out.  I did my
best to be on time.  And that rain - who would have expected it?'

   Copain comes to the very edge of the stage.  He towers over her, bends
forward, puts his hands to his sides and says, 'Hello!!!...  I said,
'Repeat after me, "Apologies, Monsieur Copain".'

   She looks up at him, outraged again, eyes on fire.  'I will not repeat
after you.  I have already apologised.  I like to speak in my own words.'

   Two seconds of silence...  He then roars with laughter.  'An actress,
and she'd like to speak in her own words.' She blushes, whether from shame
or anger.

   He looks down at her, silently, and then says icily slowly and softly,
'Listen.  It's like this.  I'm the director, in charge of what happens, and
the writer of the play, in charge of the words.  You are the actress who
says my words.  So, without delay, "Apologies, monsieur Copain"!'

   She furiously clenches her fists, unable to deflect this humiliation. 
But she realises that he has left her with no choice.  He is clever.  She
opens her fists with a jolt and then relaxes.  She hates herself when she
mutters, like an angry child, "Apologies, monsieur Copain." She knows
immediately that he will not accept it this way.  And indeed, her
humiliation has not yet ended.

   'You are boring me...  Now clearly, shout it, as if you were an angry
actress, "Apologies, monsieur Copain".'

   She is an angry actress and shouts, 'Apologies, monsieur Copain!'

   He laughs out loud.  'Good on you, child.  Now I know you have a voice!
Climb up on stage, and we'll begin.'

   She climbs the stairs at stage left and walks to the centre.  She has
not yet reached there when he walks off to the right, descends and
positions himself at her feet.

   Now what?

   'Juliette, right?  She nods.  'Juliette, so, do you actually know what
this play is about?  Admittedly, I haven't given you much...'

   She declares, '"You are not prepared to be mine.  Not fully and
unconditionally." I suspect the play is about a relationship between two
people, an unequal relationship, a power relationship.'

   'Very good.  It's about a sadomasochistic relationship, as it used to be
called -- I like this classical term.  Between a dominant and a submissive
and, classically, this would be a master and a submissive woman.  50 Shades
of Jazz, you know.  You are here for the role of the latter.

   'It's true, someone should write a book or play about a mistress and a
submissive man.  Well, there is Venus im Pelz maybe -- where the master
becomes the submissive and the submissive the mistress, so that is
interesting - but more recently, and a popular story?  I am thinking about
it, I really am, to write about a mistress and a submissive male.  However,
my play "Attendant sans DÃ(C)fense (Helplessly waiting)" is in the
classical tradition, of master and submissive woman.  That's the
perspective, my frame of reference.'

   He adds, mumbling, 'regardless of our own reference frame, yours and
mine.'

   She can only guess what he means.  She thinks she knows her own
reference.

   He continues, 'Do you know what I'm talking about?  Do you know anything
about S&M?  Are you experienced?

   'No!  What do you think?  That every woman is a slave?'

   'This is not about me, although I wrote the piece.  Nor about you,
although you hope to act it.  I asked you the question if you know anything
about S&M and have experience with it.  You don't have to lie.'

   'Yes, I know what S&M is and that there are masters, mistresses,
so-called slaves, male and female.  And I've tied up a lover before and
been there myself.'

   'Very well, that helps.  And Juliette, you're an actress, I know you're
good, have had success, but have been out of it for a while.  I can only
guess why.'

   She looks cross.  'Well, it may have been due to illness!'

   'You are betraying yourself.  So, you weren't ill.  You were having
relationship trouble.'

   'As if you know.  It's none of your business!'

   'Ok, fine, it's none of my business.  I just guessed and guess that I am
right.  What I wanted to say is, you're a good actress and can therefore
empathise with the role of a submissive woman, whether you have experience
with submission or not, but especially if you were out for so long because
of relationship issues.'

   'Indeed, I can!'

   'But a bit of experience always helps.  Never mind.  As you say, it is
not really my business.  I was just making conversation.  Whatever.  Pardon
me.

   'Well, the play is about a classical case, a classic submissive woman,
like Justine or O.  Or cute little Anastasia, if you like.  The play
doesn't name the slave, that is, in my play the heroine has the first name
of the actress, so Juliette in your case.  Just so you know.'

   'Fine.  I don't mind.'

   'You should care.  You should feel honoured.  Very honoured...!  Whore!'

   'What?  Beware, monsieur Copain!  I am the actress, not the role.'

   'And this is an audition.  You play and I play with you.  The actress is
the role.  Understand?'

   Juliette frowns.  'OK, but I'm both.  Please bear that in mind.  I
accept that you are playing.'

   'It's good that you accept.  I have made my point.  Now, something else.
You should know that you will be naked in the play.  Like a classical
slave, available at all times and not owning her own body.  Is that okay?'

   The actress lets out a deep sigh and shrugs her shoulders.

   'Well...  What can I say?  You are overwhelming me.  I'd rather not be,
that is, not if I don't have to.  But if it's the role...  In King Lear by
your colleague Andersen, I played the role of Cordelia and was naked for
the entire play.  I had to get used to it, but at some point, it felt
right. It fitted in with our conception of the play.'

   'I know.  I saw you in that play.  And talked to Andersen about you. 
Whether that was really functional nudity...?  Andersen laughed and
confessed he just had you naked because he could.  But anyway, I saw you,
the nudity was appropriate, you were good and that's why I invited you to
audition and, indeed, I waited for you for half an hour.  Glad that you're
here, Juliette.'

   Juliette smiles.  Oh, what does that smile express?  Shyness, readiness
for the challenge?  Could it be a heart-warming combination of both?  Oh,
women...  You never know now, do you?

   'At your service, monsieur Copain.  You name it.'

   'That's what I wanted to hear!  Now, get undressed!  I didn't heat up
this great hall for nothing.'

   'Gee...  In Lear I was never alone with the director.  I don't know if I
can tolerate this, you hear?  Are you sure you're not abusing your position
of power now?'

   'Well, whore, would you like a confidant there?  Legal Proof of Good
Behaviour about me?  We are playing, Juliette.  It is not Sylvain
Copain-AuziÃ"res, the person, who commands you, but the director of the
play.  Strictly business.  And play.

   'So, I repeat, disrobe.'

   For two or three seconds we see the actress standing still, frozen. 
Then she sighs and bends down to take off her pumps.  With the shoes in her
hands, she stands up again and says, 'Can I trust you, Monsieur Copain?'

   Copain laughs out loud, in a theatrical manner.  His face looks like
thunder.  He is playing, of course.

   'Do you take me seriously, Juliette?  Who do you think I am?  Not a case
of #Metoo here.  Which I fully support, by the way.  I am a respected
director.  No Weinstein!  Or even an Andersen.  What about you?  Compared
to me, you're nothing!  You do need this role, harder than I need you to
play it.  Sorry, I am transgressing...  I take all of that back.

   'Regardless, be an actress!'

   They stand there for a minute, eyeing each other, like the toreador eyes
the bull and vice versa.  (Who is which?) Then, Copain sighs and calls out,

   'Damn it, get undressed, girl.  I want to see you.  And I want to see
you do it.  Now!'

   The actress ponders that he might be right.  Copain can hardly be called
a friendly director.  He is known as extreme, she has heard the stories,
but as far as she knows he makes no distinction between men and women.  And
he makes extremely good plays.  Yet she still hesitates to expose herself
to him, here, alone together in this great theatre.

   'Can you turn round, please?'

   'Yes, I can.  And I can dismiss you too.'

   He stands below her, looks up at her.  He is relaxed, hands on his hips,
but clearly in charge.

   'What kind of actress are you?  One who doesn't want to be seen?  Well,
Juliette, you'd be the first.  Think about it again, but do not think too
long.  I would suggest, don't be yourself now, play your role, that of
Juliette, a slave.  The actress Juliette stays dressed in the role of the
slave Juliette.  Think of it this way, if that makes it easier for you.'

   He continues to look at her, in the same posture, but now with a kind
and inviting smile.  But after a few moments that smile suddenly changes
back to a wry grin.  He hisses, 'Do it, whore!'

   We see the actress turn her gaze inward.  She seems to be transferring
into her role.  She straightens her back and stands proudly on the stage.
She is present now.  A good actress after all.

   Juliette puts her red pumps to one side, slowly and carefully.  Her
movements are assured, loose and fluid.

   She stares into the distance, over the imaginary heads in the hall. 
With her fingers, she combs her hair back.  (Oh, what beauty!)

   Then her hands go to her back.  We hear her open the zip of her wet
white dress.  The dress does not drop down; the fabric still clings to her
body.  She has to tear it off her body, as if it were made of rubber.  Her
naked chest is visible first, but she is not coy; she works hard to
separate the dress from her torso.  Finally, she shakes the dress off her
hips and steps out.  Between her full nudity and the spectator (the
director, and us...) there are now only her white underpants, a simple,
tasteful white pair.  The garment is wet too and follows the outline of her
labia majora.  Left and right she grabs the elastic, pushes it down her
hips, steps out of the panties - and there, behold...  she is naked.

   Copain quickly assumes the role of a stagehand, swiftly picks up the
shoes, the wet underpants and the dress.  Leaves them to dry on a chair.

   Well, let's pause a moment...

   The actress is beautiful indeed.  No question.  Her features are
delicate.  Her dark hair may be uncombed, but that suits her naturally free
charisma, which after her hesitant start is gradually coming to the
surface. Her young breasts are at their peak, B or C, we're not sure,
pouting, delicate pink areolas.  Her dark pubic hair is neatly shaven in
her groin and around her labia.  So, these intimate lips are easy to see.
On the triangle of her mound of Venus, the hair is quite long.  Fingers
could easily grab it, pull it...

   Copain has been watching her all this time, shamelessly, eating her up
with his eyes, as it were.  Is he playing a role?  That of a director, that
of a master?  Or does he play - is he - himself?

   'Thank you, Juliette.  I enjoyed you.  But I behaved, didn't I?'

   Juliette - as herself?  - now nods, shyly again.  She is not sure.

   'Now we are where we need to be.  We got there in the end and we can get
to the play.

   'You will be naked all the time, as I said.  I'm still debating whether
to add a scene in which you become a slave, in which you accept your
master's command to humiliate yourself and undress in front of him.  That
would be a nice, quiet core scene.  But I don't know if I want to give the
audience the pleasure of a striptease.  Too theatrical, funnily enough.  I
want rawness, absolutely no titillation.

   'One issue I'm still thinking about is that of your pubic hair.  I
didn't know if you wore any, shall we say.  Many women your age shave it.
Most, perhaps.  For a long time, I would have said, get rid of it, I like
the naked sex.  But personally, I have changed my mind.  Provided it's well
kept.  Yours is well kept and isn't -- could be trimmed a bit.  But, pubic
hair...  no more little-girl stuff, and I like the tickle and also the
smell during cunnilingus.  If well cared for.  One thing makes me hesitate.
In the play you play a slave.  I think they are usually shaved.  What do
you think?'

   Juliette smiles shyly.

   'My pubic hair has never been considered so closely.  Well, all right.
Let's get past the embarrassment.  Some of my past boyfriends wanted a nude
sex, others a natural look.  So, at times I shaved it and at other times
let it grow.  I never had it lasered or anything, because I wanted to keep
the option.  And that's good, because right now, like you, I'm on the side
of the natural look.  When I see girlfriends in the shower, I think the
majority are bald, or just have a landing strip.  But I think pubic hair is
making a comeback.  A slave girl, well, she has to be kept under...  So, I
guess, bald?  I don't know.  It's up to you.  As for me personally, since I
broke up with my latest boyfriend, I let it go.  For the audition, I just
made it neat.'

   'Good on you...  As if you knew you'd naked.  I like women who expect
the unexpected.'

   'Expect the unexpected, you have to, don't you, in this line of
business? Truth be told, I didn't anticipate on showing it at all.  I did
it just for myself.  A woman does that, just like we wear nice underwear on
occasion, even if we don't anticipate it being seen.'

   Copain listens with interest.

   'Thank you, Juliette, for your frank explanation.  I am fine with your
hair as it is, though we'll decide before the opening.

   'As to my appreciation of pubic hair, I have discussed the choices with
actresses and also with my wives.  Once, in one of my plays, a horror
drama, I had a role whom the script called upon to remove every hair on her
body.  That's how the writer wanted it.  But even I thought it was going
too far, let alone the actress.  A beautiful woman of around thirty was
cast in the role, with the most beautiful wavy brown hair you can imagine,
beautiful eyebrows, dense pubic hair, the lot.  For the writer, it was
certainly a fetish, but still he managed to convince the actress that it
was necessary for the play.  And as compensation he would do it himself, he
promised, in her presence.  Just imagine: he had an excessive afro and
large beard and was said to be quite hairy everywhere.  She bucked and they
did it together, in each other's presence, with each other's help, with me
there as witness.  It was extremely exciting to see the man and the woman
undress and strip each other of every hair.  Can you imagine!  Every single
hair!!  When done, they had both become unrecognisable.  Super-naked and
void.  Theatre.  They should have had a bigger audience doing this than
just me.  I should have written a piece about it, this extreme hair
removal. Maybe I will still do.  A piece of two, three hours, exactly as
long as it actually took.  The difficulty is, if I were to have people
really shave each other's heads during every performance, and how could it
be otherwise, I would need a whole battery of actors...  Maybe I can manage
with young actors, straight from drama school, who want to work with me at
any price.  Food for thought.  Are you interested?  But never mind, I'm
wandering off terribly.  Their play was not a success, by the way.  It had
a run of five only.  Much ado for nothing.  But I enjoyed it.'

   He pauses for a while, spellbound by his memory, we suggest.  Then he
regains his composure and calls out, 'Back to our play...!'

   'It alternates between the present and the past.  The present, in which
you are alone after your master has left you and you don't know whether he
will ever return.  And in which you look back on the past.  That past
becomes reality in flashback scenes.  Do you understand?  In that past, in
the flashbacks in other words, your master acts, you live and talk with
him, you do S&M scenes at his command, often in front of his friends.  In
the present, alone, you cannot live without him, re-enact scenes from the
past by yourself, and finally make a drastic decision.

   'Do you understand this?  In a hurry, it sounds a bit convoluted.'

   Juliette sighs and spreads her arms.  It seems that for a moment she has
forgotten that she is naked and at the mercy of Copain's gaze.  She says:

   'I believe so.  There is a present, in which I am alone, and a past, in
which my, um, master and life partner are still there, and sometimes his
friends.  In the past, we are together or doing, um, scene.  In the
present, where I've been abandoned by Master and miss him, I'm alone and
act out those scenes on my own.  And I'm naked all the time, whether it's
present or past.'

   'Very good.  You said it well.  Indeed, during the scenes in the
present, you are alone on stage.  Naked, as I said, that is, during one of
the scenes you are wearing a mackintosh, nothing else.  During the
flashbacks, you are together with the actor who will play the Master.  He
will be dressed to the nines.  For this role, I've chosen an older, famous
actor, who also privately...  Well, I'm saying too much already...  I can't
give you his name yet.  If you pass the audition, I'll tell you, on the
first day of rehearsal.  You'll be delighted.  Some of the flashback scenes
include friends of your master.  They have a few lines of text, but they
are only glorified extras.

   'We will now play a few scenes from the play.  I will read the Master's
lines.

   'Remember, you play the slave.  Try to be the slave all the time, in
your role, but also when you consult me as an actress about the
interpretation, or when I give you directions as a director.  That will
benefit the play.  Method-acting, you know.'

   Copain has remained down, in front of the stage.  Juliette has sat down
on the edge of the stage and listened carefully.  She seems to have
forgotten that she is naked.  She had her legs open, carelessly, then she
crosses them, thoughtlessly by the looks of it.

   Copain cries out, 'No!  Legs open!  That's how a slave behaves!  I
forgive you, because how could you know?  But please make this mistake only
once!  From now on, I will give you a slap on the ass - that is, if you
give me permission to do so.  Because it belongs to the role.  May I do
this, if you sin again?'

   Her eyes have become as big as saucers.  She is utterly astonished.  She
is asked to give him permission to punish her?  Well, she wants the part
and doesn't dare refuse.  That is now almost secondary, however.  It takes
her a minute -- then she has brought herself to also buy the principle
about Method-acting.  She has inched past any natural reservations.

   She smiles openly.

   Let's pause for one moment and admire our lovely trooper.  Not only she
puts up with all this, but she embraces the challenges and smiles!  The sun
shines within her, warming us all.

   'I give you permission, Monsieur Copain.  Fully and openly.'

   'Great!  That's the spirit!  But now stand up again.  So, I repeat that
if you sit, you don't cross your legs, but keep them open.  If you stand,
make sure you don't hold your hands together in your crotch like a
schoolgirl and shield your sex.  Or cross your arms underneath your bosom.

   'Just don't do it!  Is that clear?  Do you understand?  If you make
either mistake you will get a slap on your bottom.  I already have your
permission...'

   'Yes, fine!  But not too hard.'

   'Quiet!

   'You don't speak like that to your master, that is, to the master I am
playing.  Say "I give you permission, Monsieur Copain, to punish me at your
full discretion".'

   By little jerky movements we can detect that Juliette must first
suppress some annoyance, however good an actress she may be and in spite of
her commitment of just a moment ago.  Oh, she is just about able to stop
herself from crossly crossing her arms in front of her chest. 
Copain-AuziÃ"res detects this.

   'Very good, Juliette!  You do well!  Just like real life!'

   Is there a hint of sarcasm in Copain's voice?  Or is he really being
mean?  Or is he playing with her?

   'But answer me.  Say "I give you permission, Monsieur Copain, to punish
me at your full discretion".'

   'I give you permission, Monsieur Copain, to punish me at your full
discretion.'

   'Thank you, Juliette.  I hope it won't be necessary.  In real life, I
mean.  Exactly what gestures and actions we will use in the play, we will
see as we go along.  That is, if you pass the audition.'

   Juliette smiles.  She has once again recovered from having any
reservations.

   She says enthusiastically, 'I am very curious, especially about the
text. And the action, the plot, of course.  The motto "You are not prepared
to be mine.  Not unconditionally" makes me curious.  I know now that they
play is about a classic S&M relationship.  That I have to be naked.  If I
pass, of course.  But I'm naked already!  And that the play is partly in
the present, where I am alone, partly in the past where I am with the
master and sometimes with glorified extras.

   'Let's go and play.' She gives him, and us, another warm smile.

   How Juliette, the actress, has grown!  The time when she was a
shivering, shuddering actress, sick from the stress and miserable from the
cold and rain -- that time seems belonging to a different age almost.

   He agrees, 'Exactly, that's what we will do.  But, um...'

   Copain-AuziÃ"res has been looking at her continuously, from the depths
of the floor below her.  His gaze has now sunk to his shoes, however.  He
hesitates...  Very unusual for him.

   'What is it you wish to say, Monsieur Copain?'

   'Yes, the thing is...  I want to see another act of submission from you.
To see if you really want to humiliate yourself on this stage.  That naked
Ophelia will be nothing compared to this, you must know that...'

   We see that Juliette suddenly becomes angry.

   'Submission?  Ophelia was nothing?  As if it wasn't bad enough!  We live
in #MeToo times now!  For me to be naked for every man and his dog, all of
me, all of my intimate places for all to see!  Humiliate myself?  What do
you think I am doing?  Taking a walk in the park?'

   And Juliette puts her chest forward, thus (unintentionally?) presenting
her breasts, that jiggle, and crosses her arms underneath.  Dark eyes
ablaze.

   Copain doesn't hesitate for a second, storms onto the stage towards
Juliette and slaps her firmly on the buttocks with his flat hand, before
she can react or even knows what's happening.

   'Ouch!'

   'No, hold your tongue!  That's what we agreed!  My right, your
obligation!'

   The actress stares at him in bewilderment.  With tears in her eyes.  She
can't utter a word.

   'Yes, Juliette, we agreed I could punish you for such transgression. 
This time you did not stop yourself.  Nothing personal, of course, strictly
business.  Look, the beginning is difficult.  I understand that.  What we
just did and will do is necessary, I think, to get the right frame-of-mind.
Do you understand that?'

   She seems to be recovering somewhat from yet another down.  She is
tough, though.

   She composes herself, still a tad vulnerable, when she says, 'I
understand, Monsieur Copain.  Don't punish me when I say that I hope you
understand that it is hard for me.  I hurried incredibly to get here on
time, I came terribly late, and on top of that I was very wet and cold and
a real mess.  A bad start to an audition, anyway, but especially given what
you are putting me through.  It is not that I don't want to follow you all
the way.  It's just very, very hard.  I feel like crying!'

   'I understand that, but at the same time it's also a good start,
precisely because you're on your knees emotionally, on the verge of crying.
Best to rebuild when you're down and out.  Your master will take care of
you.

   'Do you understand, dear Juliette?'

   Her gaze on the floor before her, she nods.

   'Now, as I said, I want to see one more act of submission from you
before we start.  As low as you can get.  Can we do that?'

   Juliette shakes her head almost imperceptibly, before muttering, 'I
don't know anymore...  I have lost my will to...  No...  I'll do as you
say, whatever it is.  Whatever it is!' The last three words come out
full-blast, as a throaty cry.

   'Ok, all good!  That's the way to do it!  We're getting somewhere...

   'The act of submission then.

   'Well, so, turn around, with your back to the audience, bend over, as
deeply as you can, until you can touch your toes, then put your hands on
your buttocks and pull them apart, so the audience can see your sex and
arse.'

   She sighs and says, 'Mr.  Copain!  Oh, I really don't know why I'm doing
this!  This is very bad.  I said I would do it, the fool...  God, God... 
let it be over!'

   And she turns her back to the room, bends over, touches her toes, puts
her hands on her buttocks and pulls them apart.  Between her legs, upside
down, she looks at Copain-AuziÃ"res, who has gone back to his place in
front of the stage and is looking at her sex and arse.

   She groans, 'Nobody, really nobody has seen me like this...  My ugliest,
ugliest side!'

   The director takes his time to respond, continuing to look at, well,
inspect her 'ugliest side.' It seems to her that she stands there exposed
like so for, well..., ten minutes.  Endlessly.  Finally, Copain-AuziÃ"res
says, 'Thank you.  You did well.  There is strength in lowering yourself
like this.  You are ready for the role, but we'll get to this.

   'I will say, though, that it isn't your ugliest side.  Maybe your most
beautiful...  Your cunt and arse are beautiful and ugly.  Like poetry.  In
the final analysis, they are very beautiful.  Not ugly at all.  I felt I
could smell them, taste them, feel them.  That's good.  A master must
experience his slave with all his senses, and vice versa.  And punish her
if she doesn't smell good.  Doesn't smell excited.  Or plainly smells
dirty. This master doesn't like poo!  So long as you know that.  But he
does like excitement.

   'Your cunt, your little labia majora, your big labia minora, jagged,
creased, slightly glistening...  Perfect.  Your arse, slightly discoloured,
puckered...  I'll spare you confrontation with my nose for now.'

   He looks at her with serious face.  No irony this time, for some reason.
Her mood is indescribable.  He mounts the stage again, goes up to her and
lovingly touches her by the shoulder.

   'I'm not making this an easy experience for you, I know.  But you don't
want 'easy' either, do you?  You don't want to work with me for 'easy'. 
Maybe the experience so far is not precisely what you imagined.  But the
unexpected is really exciting for those of us that like a challenge.  Don't
you agree?  As is the fact that you're open like this, literally but also
metaphorically.

   'But listen carefully.  You mustn't do anything you don't want to.  I
don't think you will do anything you don't want to.  I understand, as a
prominent director I have the odds against me.  You could say that the
power balance is off - you want to work with me, you need a role --
therefore I make you do things you don't want to do.  Yes, I can get just
about any actress, but I don't want any actress, I want the right actress.

   'I am a sucker for the right actress, let me tell you that secret.  I
need the right actress as much as she needs me, you need me.  If that
shifts the power balance, let it be.  My confession here perhaps surrenders
me to you.  So be it!  I surrender.  We have come a long way since, what,
an hour ago.'

   He sighs, tilts his head forward and closes his eyes, leaving Juliette,
who has straightened herself and turned around to face him, to wonder what
this is all about.

   He reasserts himself and reascends the stage.  He takes some pages from
the table.

   'We are going to play.  I hope you're the right one.'

   He gives Juliette a few pages of text

   'OK, the piece's working title is "ATTENDANT SANS DÃ0/0FENSE (HELPLESSLY
WAITING)".  You will read the part labelled "JULIETTE"- Surprised?  You see
I had high expectations of you - and I will read the rest, mostly labelled
"MASTER".' It may be useful to know that the pieces in the past and those
in the present will be differentiated by different lighting -- those in the
present will be stark white light, those in the past by subdued tones.

   QUOTE

   MASTER, in the past:

   "I am tired of you.  Don't you see?  You are not prepared to be mine. 
Not unconditionally.

   "Goodbye to you and your life."

   pause

   JULIETTE, in the present, to the audience: "He looked at me for a few
moments as I stood there, waiting.  He then quietly closed the front door
and was gone."

   UNQUOTE

   Copain, 'You noted my tone, partly tired and resigned, partly angry.  I
speak to you and you face me, but don't look me in the eyes, like a child
that is being chastised.  You at your turn speak to the audience, so you
face the house.  But you still look down, resigned and submissive.  Your
tone is flat.

   'Let's do it again.'

   And, yes, Juliette immediately reacts and picks the right posture and
tone of voice.  She IS the role.  She is of unearthly beauty -- beautiful,
naked and vulnerable.  And humble, submissive.

   Copain-AuziÃ"res tells her so.  He says he is impressed by how she
managed to grow in the brief period she has been here and that she wears
her nudity like she has never been dressed in her life.

   'Are you sure you are not a naturally submissive woman?  I am amazed. 
Proud, yes, but clearly submissive.  Many actresses are that way, you know,
happy in the theatre where they are commanded, but only a shadow in their
private lives, away from the limelight.  Unless -- they find their masters,
or mistresses in that life, the real life.'

   Juliette looks at him, puzzled.  'Yes...  You're right, it is true.  I
had almost forgotten!  Each time it amazes me: I live, really am alive on
stage.'

   Puzzled, but by every word she speaks her confidence appears to grow. 
Explosively.  She is a true actress; it is plain to see.  She does not need
clothes to be...  be present.

   'Ever since I joined the high-school theatre group all the men I have
been going out with were actors.  I'd say pretty strong actors.  But none
of them have lasted long with me, a few weeks or months.  Until the one I
broke up with a year ago.  Him I went out with for two years.  I was
completely hooked on him and terribly jealous of the other women he met. 
With justification, hindsight tells me.  Or maybe that prophesy was
self-fulfilling.  A terrible thought.  I am still thrashed.

   'If you say I am submissive, then he was not man enough to submit me. 
None of them was.  The latest man, he was weak, the way I see it now,
followed his cock.  But I was weaker, not seeing him for what he was.  I
don't see myself as submissive, but just not always strong.'

   Copain-AuziÃ"res looked at her, silently, and then said, 'I think what
you say is true.  I know who it is and I know him.  I now know you a little
now.  And I do know myself.'

   Juliette does not answer to this challenge, but continues her story.

   'I don't know about submission.  I am used to working under a director
and doing what he tells me to do, according the dictates or more open
suggestions of the script written by yet another person.  I have never felt
submitted by any of that.  OK, I have argued my points if I felt something
could be done better, but generally my attitude has been to find my freedom
with the constraints given by director and script, reasonable or not. 
Maybe that is a submissive attitude.  True, also, that most of my directors
and writers were men.

   'Maybe submissiveness is simply confused with the role woman has been
forced to accept in society.  And my being at my tether's end when I came
in, well that was not submissiveness.  Nor is my relative desperation to
have this role.

   'Come to think of it, back then as Ophelia and now in the role of the
slave -- I don't like that word -- I feel fine.  I feel empowered within
the constraints of the role.  The fact that I am naked and have shown you
my most intimate bits, now that the dust is settling, it does not bother me
at all.  I am free on the inside, whatever the constraints.  As long as I
am alive.'

   Copain-AuziÃ"res says, 'You really make progress and start to know
yourself.  That is good.' And he repeats himself, with more emphasis, 'And
I know myself too.  Moi, je suis Juliette.  I could be Juliette.'

   Juliette doesn't understand him, or does she?  She doesn't address it,
hardly seems to hear it.

   The director doesn't dwell on his words either.  He just says, 'Come,
let's continue.'

   Juliette reads and recites:

   QUOTE

   JULIETTE, in the present, to the audience: I am going mad waiting for
him.  I crave him.  I need his mercy.

   He is my Master!  He should return, no matter what made him go away,
regardless of the disobedience I must have showed.

   If he was simply tired of me, let him in his absence realise that he
needs me too, in his own way, the way of a master.

   Or is this simply another test of my subordinance to him?  Then the
length of his absence should be finite.  My waiting should come to an end.

   UNQUOTE

   She uses all the bashfulness, resignation, hesitation of a true
submissive, if we can be the judges, and phrases her lines almost
perfectly. Small, nervous, helpless gestures, an insecure posture, the hand
flitting in front of the crotch and away...  perfect!

   But, wait, Copain sighs.

   'You know, Juliette...  The more you feel at ease with the text, the
more confident you feel, the less convincing you are.  Before, when you
felt pushed and pressured, you were great, you were it, you were Juliette,
the submissive.  But now, you are good, good, good, but you are not 'it',
you are not Juliette, Juliette the submissive.  You are Juliette, the
actress, a little too convincing, if that makes sense.'

   He looks at her intensely.  He gesticulates...  We feel his passion. 
It's real now, he is not playing.

   'Do you agree with me?  Or do you feel you ARE your role?

   'Tell me...  What are we going to do?'

   Juliette does not respond immediately.  Then she too sighs and says,

   'You are right, I was better before, when I was down.  I am overshooting
the mark, but I will get back to where I was before, without being down. 
It is early days, isn't it?  I have not prepared; I haven't had the chance
to see the text you wrote beforehand...  I still need to grow.  Become
desperate again, as it were, while in control...  I can do that, believe
me...

   We see her argue her position.  We feel she wants the role, but it is no
longer in desperation.  She is inspired.  She supports her arguments with
arm movements, her torso moves, her breasts follow their own rhythm...  (We
love her.  We must see her in this play!)

   She continues, 'You, on your part, own the text and will sense, almost
physically feel the smallest discrepancies in mine.'

   Director and actress stand opposite each other.  Both supremely
confident.  Time passes...  in silence...  They are thinking...

   Then, we see it and shudder!  It is not she, but he, that wanes.  It is
she that is the more confident of the two, notwithstanding his formidable
black suit versus her nudity.  (Oh, how she moves us!).

   And she speaks...

   'Wait...  wait!  I see it now, it is you...  I feel it is you.

   'Yes, YOU are Juliette...  Like you just said...  At the start, you
pushed and pressured me and, as you said, I was down and out, wet and
miserable...  and nervous.  And I felt it...  And you dominated me.  I feel
you have come towards me, levelled with me...  And are now -- I have to be
careful -- sinking...  Dare I say, submitting?'

   Copain is silent.  And introspective.  Demure...  He seems to be
searching within himself.  Juliette, naked still, but no longer uncertain,
no longer submissive, approaches him, stands behind him and puts her arms
around his chest, and strokes it, slowly, slowly...  He closes his eyes and
relaxes, slowly, slowly...

   We are holding our breaths.  We never saw this coming.  Gone is the
commanding figure of Copain, the famous, towering figure; gone is
diminutive figure of Juliette.  They have come together in their intended
constellation.

   He moves her right hand to his crotch and squeezes it down.  She accepts
and squeezes the organ that is lurking there.  She massages it through his
trousers, while he starts leaning backward and entrusts himself to her
arms. He moans audibly, eyes still closed.  She slowly opens the zipper and
fishes for his cock.  Copain lets her, abandons himself to her.  She finds
his member, which stiffens within seconds, and milks it, slowly,
deliberately, expertly...  She has a plan, so it seems, as she stops when
his moaning appears to indicate he is coming close.

   She whispers, 'There will be more...  No...  there may be more, if you
are a good, good boy, Sylvain...'

   This is a dramatic turn-around!  We are amazed!  But our amazement is
cut short, when she disengages herself from him, steps back -- he is
stumbling to regain his balance -- and continues with, 'Frankly, I know it
is you, Sylvain.

   'Why don't you yourself try to recite my lines?  To show me, if
anything...'

   He composes himself and readjusts his clothing, as they say; in more
explicit, sober terms, he waits until his erection has completely subsided,
tucks away his penis and closes his zipper.  He wears his face like a mask
for a moment until...

   ...  Until he starts reciting, when he becomes alive again, face and
body.  He, this time, becomes alive...  He uses all the bashfulness,
resignation, hesitation of a true submissive and phrases his lines
perfectly.  Small, nervous, helpless gestures, an insecure posture, the
hand flitting in front of his crotch and away...

   QUOTE

   I am going mad waiting for him.  I crave him.  I need his mercy.

   He is my Master.  He should return, no matter what made him go away,
regardless of the disobedience I must have showed.

   If he was simply tired of me, let him in his absence realise that he
needs me too, in his own way, the way of a master.

   Or is this simply another test of my subordinance to him?  Then the
length of his absence should be finite.  My waiting should come to an end.

   UNQUOTE

   The acting, it is very beautifully done.  Clearly, he is the author. 
But there is something else too.  We feel his text comes from within.  He
ís Juliette, the role.  We feel that Juliette, the actress, feels it too,
in fact felt it before asking him to take his turn.  His diction, his
phrasing, the dynamics -- he shouts and whispers, drags and rushes - it is
overpowering.  A revelation.  Our mouths drop open...

   Not Juliette's.  Her face gives off a deliberate, even considered
expression.  She appears to be developing a plan.  But she does not push
it. Instead, she merely whispers, 'Go on...'

   And Sylvian goes on:

   QUOTE

   I have chained myself to the wall in the hallway, like he did to me so
many times before.  He has shown me off as a living statue and received
visitors this way.

   Occasionally, uninvited callers, the postman, a neighbour, have been
treated to the sight of me and my proud, bare body.  He never apologised to
them for what they happened to see.  I got the looks one might expect, of
surprise, of admiration, of lust, of horror, of contempt, of pity.  I did
not mind.  I was proud that way.  His to keep and show.

   UNQUOTE

   He looks proud!  He has withdrawn within himself and continues, in a
whisper, slowly...

   QUOTE

   I put both of my ankles in restraints.  And one wrist.  The other I
could not manage.  I have closed the padlocks.  The keys I have cast out of
reach.  I, the unconditional dependent, have gone for broke and shall wait
for him until he returns.

   UNQUOTE

   He acts out the crooked postures in great detail.  We see the
restraints; we see him cast away the imaginary keys.

   QUOTE

   I cannot wait for him any longer.

   UNQUOTE

   He is resigned, at tether's end, low down and out...  and stares
vacantly into nothingness, eternally.  Come what may, the ultimate
consequence, the ultimate sacrifice to an absent god...

   Juliette stands at a distance and does not move, for what seems an
eternity, what is in fact one, two minutes.  Then she approaches him,
stands behind him and softly puts her hand on his shoulder.

   'Sylvain, dear Sylvain...  You know what you want to do...'

   Copain sleepwalks to where he has left her dress to dry.  He looks at
it, without seeing, carefully picks it up, walks back to her.  He holds out
the dress and lets her step into it, raises it and zips it up.  She is in
control now.  Copain is now Juliette, the servant-submissive.

   He now stands still in front of her and awaits her commands.  She smiles
like a mother does to an amusingly naughty child and repeats, still softly,
without emphasis,

   'Sylvain...  You know what you want to do...'

   Do we know what she means?  Are we shocked when he starts to disrobe? 
Indeed, we could not have foreseen this an hour ago, when she entered the
theatre as a washed-up child and he commanded her left and right, degraded
her, made her undress, show her intimate areas and lower herself doing
that. But disrobing is what he does and we realise, after a moment's
reflection and us drawing in a good lungful of breath: how could he not
disrobe?

   He takes off his black jacket, eyes on the ground, and hangs it neatly
over the back of the nearest chair.  The black tie is untied and goes the
same way, neatly.  His patent leather shoes -- he kneels down to remove
them, first the right and then the left.  He places them neatly side by
side underneath the chair.  Doesn't touch his -- black -- socks yet --
strange...  Is he a shirt-first or a trousers-first man?  It's the trousers
that go first, as he calmly undoes the belt and the zipper, lowers the pair
down below his knees and steps out of them, right foot first.  He places
them orderly on top of the jacket and tie.  We cannot see his underpants
yet, as the black linen shirt is long, nor any hint at what his sex is
like. That is to change, as his shirt is next.  He starts unbuttoning it
from the top.  First, we see a black vest appear, and a bit of sprouting
chest hair at the neckline.  When he has undone the bottom button, he takes
a breath that must go to deep within himself, he is hardly conscious, and
drops the shirt off his shoulders.  There he stands, a less than commanding
figure, dressed down in black vest, boxers and socks.  Another deep breath
and he bends over, lifts his right leg and takes off his sock.  His left
leg follows.  Bare feet.  His vest, and he reveals the hairy chest we
recently started anticipating.  His underpants, off and away - and the
commanding and notoriously difficult Sylvain Copain-AuziÃ"res stands naked
before his actress, cock at half-mast, as if awaiting her orders.  On the
stage of a playhouse.

   But she gives no order.  Nothing moves for another minute or two.

   Then he sinks down on his knees and inches to right in front of her.  We
hear him breathing deeply in and out (He must be smelling her, being so
close.  Would she be excited?) He lifts the hem of her dress, deeply
inhales again, produces his tongue and dives in -- he serves her
cunnilingus, plainly: goes down on her.

   What do we see?  A world-famous, cerebral theatre director kneels in
front of a previously promising, currently stalling actress, who arrived an
hour ago totally flustered and was coaxed to get naked pretty soon after,
whom he has bossed around the stage left and right -- here he knees at her
feet and eats her out.  Naked.  She lets him.

   Is she enjoying her power?  Is she calculating?  In any case, she lets
him.  She stands like a beautiful statue, legs apart, arms by her sides,
but slightly separate from her body, palms of her hands spread open, head
tilted backward, eyes closed -- his head shielded by her dress, thus in
contact with her smells and warmth.  A beautiful statue, a picture of
female sensuality.

   He shows he knows his way around a woman.  So, if he has been a
woman-eater, notoriously, he has learnt to sensitively service one.  His
tongue is velvet, as it slowly circulates around Juliette's flower of
flesh. The centre of its journey is woman's sexual centre, the clitoris,
which takes little time to shed its hood.  But indulgence is
overindulgence, so the tongue removes itself from the centre, travels the
highways and byways of Juliette's cunt, the folds between the labia minora
and majora, giving the slightest slaps against the wrinkly minora, teasing
them, barely biting the juicy majora, tipping the clit for a moment and,
oh, straying brief instances beyond the strict perimeter of the cunt, via
the perineum to the anus with its faintly savoury flavour -- traveling this
circuit round after round at varying speed, with delicate variations, the
byways before the highways, the tipping before the teasing, the biting a
touch softer, the slapping a tad harder, throwing an occasional mini-bite
to the clit -- oh, so gently!  And all the while the flower of flesh, its
Bartholin's glands, secrete the lubricating fluids and self-flood
Juliette's -- the actress' -- vagina.  Divine irrigation.

   Oh, alas, we cannot observe this action in detail.  Copain's head and
Juliette's dress obscure our view.  But if we get close and listen well, we
can hear his licking, slobbering sounds, as he takes her up and away. 
Because away and up he does take her -- within six, seven, eight minutes
(who is counting?) he takes her to a condition, which transforms her into a
tremor, and another and..., where all of her body shakes and shudders, her
mouth opens and lets out a primeval groan and her arms open to all of the
world, gods and demons.  The point comes when her hands, first lifting the
hem of her dress, grab his hair and utters a fierce animal cry.  Then
pushes him away.

   ---------

   QUOTE

   MASTER, no - MISTRESS: "You are mine, are you not?  Mine to possess,
mine to share, mine even to reject and to give away, even if that would
break my own heart?  You are objectively mine, are you not?"

   JULIETTE, played by Sylvain, to the audience: My face grows pale at the
thought of him, no - her giving me away.  I gave myself to her, because I
was hers, because I wanted to demonstrate my dependency, to show her that I
was tied to her, in hopes of tying her to me in return.  She, the stronger
of us two, could henceforth have me at her disposal and have me satisfy her
every whim.  But not give me away - my greatest fear!

   JULIETTE, to the MISTRESS: "I am yours, my dearest master, no -
mistress, unconditionally, but I cannot consent to your giving me away.  I
would be nothing!  I cannot consent to being nothing, a thing I'd loath. 
I'd hate myself if you'd give me away.  "

   JULIETTE, played by Sylvain, to the audience: The next moment - tears in
my eyes and a burning cheek, as she has slapped me in the face.

   MISTRESS: "Unconditionally!  Don't you tell me what to do.  I am the one
that sets the conditions.  I'll be your mistress unconditionally or I won't
be your mistress at all.  I'd leave.  You should be satisfied to know that
I own you and would love you, even if I gave you away.  Do you understand?"

   JULIETTE, to the MISTRESS: "Yes, yes," I sob as I fall on my knees at
his feet, "forgive me."

   JULIETTE, to the audience: He strokes my hair pensively, for a good
while.  This fails to calm me down.  I anxiously wait.

   MISTRESS: "I will try to forgive you.  I hope I can.  But you have
rocked the foundations of our relationship."

   JULIETTE, to the audience: Giving me away - no!  But could it be that
she is not giving me away?  That she is merely testing how far she could
go, what I would accept?  But I have failed and "have rocked the
foundations of our relationship." It sounds so ominous.  I am frightened.

   UNQUOTE

   ---------

   EPILOGUE

   Juliette, the actress, gets the role.  That is, a different role in an
entirely rewritten play.  She plays the role of Sylvain, the Master, no -
Mistress.  And she does not get to be naked.  (Had she begun to crave a
nude role?  Or did she remain, perhaps, the consummate professional,
craving only to do what the role under consideration required?) The fact is
that in the event she is dressed in a black suit, black shirt, black tie
and black shoes.  Yes, men's attire.  Well, tailored.  Hair plaited,
Scandinavian style, stern.  (We secretly regret that she is not nude
throughout, but she is for a bit, so we count our losses and consider
ourselves blessed.) There is only one other role, that of Juliette.  That
role is played by the man, who is also the director and writer, Sylvain
Copain-AuziÃ"res.  Him playing a role again, for the first time in about a
dozen years, excited the theatre world.  The commentators are truly excited
about the fact that he plays the role of a woman and that he plays it nude.
He has never played nude and never a woman.  His reputation, rightly or
wrongly, has made a bully out of him, that is, in the circles of his
fiercest critics.  Among his admirers, this is phrased as demanding, of
either sex, but especially of women, but in any case, demanding with
justification.  Remember the times we live in, where the tide appears to be
with women.  Some critics praise his courage to do penance for his bullying
of women.  And his humility, for appearing naked, with lipstick, make-up
and wig, without (visible) body hair.  Yes, critics are united in their
assessment that he made for a convincing woman, though for differing
reasons.  Some condemn him for confirming himself as the self-serving wimp,
some praise him for confirming that he really, really understands women. 
The first category wondered why he did not have his dick cut off, the
second found him convincing, notwithstanding the penis.  Universal is the
praise for Juliette, the actress.  And if you ask us, she deserves it.  She
is a towering presence in "Attendant sans DÃ(C)fense" (Helplessly Waiting)
and is truly considered to be back with a vengeance.  She is considered a
new role model for a sexy woman, in a proud, mature sort of way.  Post
#MeToo.  Sexy woman 2.0.

   The showbiz rags spread rumours that they are together now.  The nature
of their relationship is shrouded in mystery.
   THE HAPPY END