One Night in December

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I sometimes write for a local amateur dramatic company. My aim is to write for the available cast, rather than script a play and for them, then, to find people to play the parts. This isn’t as easy as I had hoped but it seems to work sometimes so I probably write something for them once a year. The process is simple, however. The group arranges a meeting, usually in a room in a pub so everyone can get drunk, and we discuss what sort of show they want to put on. It it’s musical I may be asked to write some of the links between songs but if it’s a drama I’ll do the entire show. It might be a crime or romance; it all depends on their mood, their timing and their intended audience. And so it was that on a gloomy Friday night in December I came to be in the upstairs rom of the Coaching Inn. The group is a mixed bag of people, all ages and a variety of backgrounds and, of course, abilities. There were some new faces among the assembly and when I arrived, a little late as usual and straight from work, I sat slightly behind the group who were all facing their director, Jimmy Lewis. Lewis welcomed me and a few heads turned to smile hellos at me. I listened to the conversation. Lewis is a control freak and doesn’t allow much debate since his view is that direction is just that. Tell them what they are going to do, who is going to do what, and how it will be done. He and I had already done a brief synopsis of the next play, a Victorian Melodrama in which a ne’er-do-well son of the landed gentry has his evil way with a young housemaid, promises to marry her when she becomes pregnant, then, to avoid the loss of his inheritance, murders her. The principal parts were all part-defined but naturally we wanted to see who was available and willing before this was set in stone. There are stalwarts of the group who can be relied upon but the peripherals and occasionals are less predictable. The evening went pretty much as normal; slightly shambolic Maltepe Escort to start and degenerating from there into a sort of humorous chaos. I managed to get some sensible notes made. The leading lady, the sister of the evil son, was to be played by a new face. I say face but it was not until the end of the meeting that I saw anything but the back of her head and a mane of wonderfully luxuriant black hair. I gathered her name was Tilda something but that was all I knew. Lewis declared the meeting at an end and suggested we revert to the bar to freshen our glasses. I was ready for this and slipped out of the room and down to the bar, chatting to a few old friends. We ordered drinks – a large gin and tonic for me, and nattered for a while. Jimmy came over to me. ‘I’d like you to meet Tilda. She’s got some interesting ideas about her part and you might like to discuss them with her. I excused myself from my group and followed him to a table at the far corner of the bar. That was the first time I saw Tilda’s face and I stopped almost dead in my tracks. I’d better explain. She was sitting but it was clear she was tall, taller than my initial impression of her from the rear view upstairs. Our eyes were not exactly level but it was close. Her hair, wonderful from the rear was magnificent from the front. It wasn’t curly or wavy but nor was it straight. It had a certain wildness about it as it cascaded like dark water over her shoulders. Her eyes were dark too, but large and round with a look that I can only describe as humorous. Perhaps this was because when you first see a face you take it all in as a whole then focus on the constituent parts and her mouth, wide and full-lipped had a similar half smile which seemed permanent. It was a captivating face, the sort that stops the breath in man or woman. I recovered myself and sat facing her and slightly to one side so the light shone through that Maltepe Escort Bayan curtain of hair and made it sparkle where it feathered around her upturned nose. Her teeth were too large but somehow it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. She had long, delicate fingers which rested on the table and were resolutely still. There was a stillness about her. She was wearing a dark coat which was open to reveal a white cotton blouse which did not reveal anything to my now searching eye. You may have gathered that I was impressed. Lewis introduced us and we shook hands and there was no lingering to that contact which is so often described. She reached out, smiling, took my hand firmly, shook it and her hand returned to join its pair on the table, still and restful. I fumbled to get my notebook and pen from my bag while she and Jimmy talked and then stood, threw off my coat and sat again, glasses in place and ready for business. ‘Sue here writes. She writes specifically for us and the chosen cast as I told you. All she needs from us is some ideas and the next thing you know a work of bloody art is ready for us.’ I smiled at him and told him he didn’t need to flatter me to get me to do it; I enjoyed it. ‘Tilda has just joined us. She’s dome some acting at University and wants to get involved. I smiled at Tilda. ‘Jimmy says you have a few ideas?’ Tilda did a strange sort of thing with her mouth that suggested modesty and began slowly to explain some of her thoughts for her part. When I am concentrating on something I tend to be quite focused but something about her half smile kept distracting me. We talked at length and I made copious notes. Suddenly she tapped the back of my hand with her finger.’ ‘Sue, your glass is empty. Can I get you another?’ I hadn’t seen her standing until then. I had guessed she was tall but not just how tall. I’m not talking giantess here but she seemed to rise Escort Maltepe up out of her chair and keep rising. She took my glass and strolled across the bar. I followed her with my eyes and watched as her body moved, her legs in tight black leather trousers. I also noticed how heads turned to watch her. I looked away when she turned back to glance at me as she waited for our drinks and then she returned, placed the glasses on the table and sinuously coiled herself back into her seat. We continued talking and discussing her part until the pub closed. I said I lived a short walk away and she said that she did too and it turned out to be in the same direction. In fact, she lived one street away from me and explained she had recently moved into the town following the collapse of her previous relationship. It was a small detour for me to walk past her place to get to mine. We stopped outside her steps and she turned to me. ‘Fancy some coffee?’ Now, I ought at this point to say that I am utterly hopeless at recognising another person’s sexuality unless he or she wears it like a badge. I felt very attracted to Tilda but had absolutely no idea if she felt anything like that for me. Her hand rested on my shoulder, a curiously intimate action especially somehow because of her height. I nodded dumbly and she led the way up the steps to her front door. Her house was similar to my own except mine was merely a part of one whereas hers was the whole thing, Georgian, high ceilings and chandeliers. She led me through to the kitchen removing her coat as she walked past a row of hooks and inviting me to do the same. She stopped and turned to me, I looked up into her eyes. ‘We could have something stronger than coffee if you’d prefer?’ ‘Well, it is Friday.’ She smiled and led me back down the hallway to her sitting room. She lit a fire that was already layed in the hearth and went to a cabinet, suggesting I sit which I did, smoothing my long, dark blue skirt under my arse. She made a sort of soft groan. ‘I always love to see a woman smooth her skirt like that,’ she said as she poured and I realised she must have seen in a mirror because her back was to me. For the first time I got to admire her body. It wasn’t just tall, it was svelte and lithe.

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