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Subject: {ASSM} Miscellaneous Humans Only (complete, asst codes and styles) TBD
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Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2012 08:10:04 -0400
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Miscellaneous Humans Only (complete, asst codes and styles)
---

Remember
---

As I sit gazing at the quiet waters of the nearby lake,

I remember.

I remember other evenings, other times with my friend.

Strong fingers that even though they caress me gently, speak to me of
strength.

I remember letting myself go and surrendering myself to that strength.

Every nerve tingling as those fingers worked their special magic.

Those magic moments when I knew this person would never be anything
other than tender with me.

And protect me.

Shivering with remembered pleasure,

I find it difficult to contain my impatience.

Soon,

But not soon enough,

My friend will return.
~~~


This story has a very unusual history.

You see, I had a dream this morning.  This one.  All I had
to do was put it down in words.

I dedicate this one to all the truckers out there.
---

Road Wolf
---

It is early dawn, the sun not quite up yet.  The day shows
all the promise of being a beautiful one.

At a small privately owned freight company,  a dozen rigs
are idling.  Just another typical morning as the drivers
prepare to hook up and start their runs.

A male voice crackles over the CB.

"OK folks.  Let's do it."

Suddenly, the yard is filled with the deafening roar of
diesels.  Surprisingly, as they pull away, all the trailers
are left at the docks.

As they exit the gate and park along the road,  a car comes
in the main gate.

The owner and his wife have come running out of the office
to stare in amazement at the idling rigs.

A young, muscular man gets out of the car and walks over to
them.

"I understand your drivers have some problems.

"Late paychecks.  Promises of maintenence on their rigs that
somehow never gets done.  Overtime that never gets paid.
Demands to work extra hours in violation of federal laws.

The old man looks at him with hate in his eyes.

"We're a non-union shop here.  Get your ass off my property.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

The young man smiles grimly.

"Me?  Those people out there know me as 'Paintbrush'.  I'm
the person who painted most of those murals on their rigs."
There is a quiet pride in his voice

"You and I have talked on the radio before, you know me as
someone else.

"Dad was a professional football player.  I'm afraid I took
a different path.  I studied Art and Economics.  He wanted
me to have a better life.  One without the lingering pain he
suffers from all those years.

"He never dreamed I would make more than he did.

He waves a hand at the idling rigs.

"I'm not as famous or well known as he was.  I have my fans
though.

"You see, I decided to travel.  Do wildlife studies as it
were.

"I'm also a long haul trucker."  The pride is now
unmistakable, deep.

"Those are some of my brothers and sisters over there."

He pulls a portable CB from his pocket.

"Bring it around honey."

They hear the unmistakable starting cough and roar of a long
haul tractor.

Belching black smoke, a tractor trailer combo eases around
the end of the building.

The trailer is covered with a mural.

A pack of wolves running through a snow covered forest.

The cab of the tractor is midnight black.  On the door is a
painting of a running wolf.

A woman climbs out and goes to his car without a word.  She
gets in, drives out the gate and parks at the end of the
line of idling rigs.

As the young man starts to climb into the cab of his rig, he
pauses and turns.  Then he speaks one last time.

"Who am I?"  He smiles again.

"You knew me as 'Road Wolf'.  

"Now you know me as the person those *people* work for."

With that, he finishes climbing into the cab.

As the old man and his sobbing wife stare in stunned
bitterness at the unmistakable evidence of their folly, he
pulls out the gate and leads the other rigs away.

13 gleaming rigs pull away into the dawning of a new day.

The outside speaker crackles one final time.

"Let's go brothers and sisters.

"We have jobs to do.

"A country to explore.
~~~

MF nosex - 'Souvie's Challenge' 
---

The Color of Attraction - Nighttime in the City
---

Call me old-fashioned.

I don't care how much the 'Color of Attraction' line of apparel has
reduced the number of rapes and other incidental sex crimes. I don't
care that the clothes have a time stamped memory that records the
color states for the last week.  I don't care that they are talking of
making wireless 'interfaces' that will let men's and women's clothes
'exchange data' on command.

(Who wants that anyway? It's the people who need to 'exchange data',
not our clothing.  What next?  My shorts screwing her panties by
remote?  Gee, thanks.  I bet someone will add a 'spontaneous orgasm'
attachment to that so I know I've been fucked.)

I just happen to think that with it, we've lost something essential.

We've lost the *mystery* in 'mystery woman'.

Women have always had an easy way to tell if a man was interested.
Usually, all they have had to do was make a few moves and then slyly
watch the bulge between his legs.

Must have been some 'prick' with a short penis and zero social skills
that thought this fashion up.

"Tell your lover what you think!"  Right.  And any other person in
your line of sight.  Literally.  Some wiseacre added glasses with a
built in sighting device so you could scan the other person.  Then
someone else added the latest tracking technology so the person being
scanned could discover who was 'giving them the eye'.  That was later
of course.

After the military made the mistake of trying out the technology in
their camo wear and discovered the tired old line 'Make love, not
war!' had more than a little truth in it, war went out of fashion as a
way to settle disputes.  Then they discovered to their embarrassment
that there were more gays and bis in the military than straights.

Pretty hard to convince anyone to shoot someone who be their next
lover.

We still have shooting wars but now they are in the nature of sexual
stamina contests.

You should see the recruiting slogans.  "Drain off that excess sexual
tension!  Enlist and get the government to pay you as you travel the
world and learn other people's sexual customs.  Take part in 'Battles
of will' that pit your sexual strengths against someone else's
weaknesses..."

Yet, as my lover reminds me, this is the 100th aniversary of our first
meeting.  A meeting that happened when we were teenagers and she was a
'beta tester' for 'Attraction Apparel'.

What an *interesting* century it has been.

* * *

(Imitating Jack Webb's voice...) This is a convenience store.  I work
here.  I run the cash register. The incident that follows happened
because of my fevered hormones.

Graveyard shift.  The drunks had all gone home by now.  It was 3am and
I was absolutely bored.  I had one customer, a girl I had graduated
with.  Since there was noting else to do, I spent my time watching her
as she wandered about the store. (returning to my normal voice)

Besides, I'd lusted after her body since we were kids.  That lush body
had fueled a lot of wet dreams and been a central figure in a hell of
a lot of my masturbation fantasies.

I noted that she didn't seem to be that interested in actually buying
something.  She acted distracted.

It wasn't long before I lost interest in her as someone to screw. I
also have an obsession for science.  Enough so that sometimes I
actually think of things other than sex.

She was wearing a simple outfit that changed color as she moved. Now,
as I watched her move, I tried to figure out what cues the dress
responded to. Finally, I couldn't stand not knowing and I asked.

"Betty?  What on earth are you wearing?  And come to think of it, why
are you out this late?  I've never seen you in here at this time."

When she turned to look at me, the whole outfit turned a bright pink.
It was almost the same shade of pink she turned when she realized what
had happened.

"Ummm..."  She looked around as if checking the place out.

"I'm supposed to wear this around guys.  I figured you'd be here alone
in case..."  She trailed off.

I let my eyebrows do my talking and I waited.

She took a deep breath that did interesting things to the material.
The pink faded but it was still there.  "It's a new style of clothing
created by the people I work for.  They call it 'Color of Attraction'
and it's supposed to change color according to the wearer's feelings.
I've had it for a week and I finally got brave enough to wear it in
public."

I couldn't help my next comment.  " 'Betting Betty' - the girl who
would do *anything* on a dare - took a week to get 'brave enough' to
wear a dress in public?  This has to be good."

She licked her lips and looked down.  "They are planning on a men's
line too.  After they get the problems solved."

"Sounds interesting.  Still doesn't explain you being here at," I
glanced at the clock, "just after 3 in the morning."

"Yeah.  Well....  The color it changes to is triggered by how you feel
about someone.  Skin temperature of certain areas of the body.  Amount
of sweat. Things like that.  This is one of the prototypes.  I agreed
to be one of the women who will help with the fine tuning of the
settings so they are more 'universal'. Right now each dress has to be
calibrated to the woman wearing it."  She paused and blushed again.

I nodded thoughtfully.  "Makes sense.  I've noticed a lot of colors
and shades.  Why so much pink?  Calibration problem?"

"Uhhhh...  No.  Not a calibration problem.  Pink, ummm... indicates...
you know..."

"No, I..."  Understanding came.  With it, shock.  She was telling me
that she was interested in me sexually.  "Does pink mean what I
*think* it means?"  I couldn't bring myself to come right out and ask
her if she wanted to fuck me.

She nodded and the 'dress' turned a bright red.

"Oh."  It was a good thing I was standing behind the counter. All
those memories of secretly spying on her surfaced.  The few times I'd
glimpsed parts of her naked body caused my erection to get even
harder.  I realized I was panting heavily.  I forgot about my job as I
remembered all those fantasies I had created that centered on the two
of us screwing each other like rabbits. I bet she would be a tigress
in bed. I could already feel her arms and legs wrapped around me.

The fantasy of shooting inside her overwhelmed me.

When I returned to a blurred awareness of what I was supposed to be
doing I noticed that she was looking at me rather oddly.  "Are you ok?
You started shaking as if you were having a fit or something."

Her dress was now a faded blue.  I nodded slowly as I blushed. "I was
thinking about you.  Us.  I've always wanted to..."  At that moment I
realized my crotch was damp.  Had what I was afraid of happening
someday - actually happened?  I couldn't help it.  I totally forgot
about Betty and looked down.  Yep.  Oops.

Damn.  And I still had 3 hours left to go on shift.  No telling who
might show up and I couldn't leave to change clothes.

"Stan?  What's wrong?"

"I'm fine.  I uhhhh...  Shot my wad while I was thinking about you."
It came out in a rush.

"Oh."  Was that a smile?  Yes, it was.  Also a hint of a grin.

We stared at each other.  Me in embarrassed admission of how I felt
and Betty with a quirky smile.

"I'm flattered."  Was all she said at first.  "Me too."

She blushed and the dress turned red again.  "I mean I think about you
- that way."

We stared at each other some more.  Finally, we both started laughing
as we realized there was no point in hiding from each other any
longer.

"Over here."  I motioned to one part of the counter.  She looked
puzzled but walked over to where I pointed.  I kept one eye on the
video monitor and when I knew it was about to switch cameras, I made
my move.

"Any response you make to my kiss will be remembered and used to try
and persuade you to take part in more kisses and other activities
suitable for dual participation..."

I leaned over and kissed her.

At least that was my plan.  It had always worked in the past when I
wanted to sneak in a kiss or two with a girlfriend while working.

I hadn't allowed for Betty setting her drink down on the counter and I
had certianly not allowed for her dress.  I also hadn't really planned
for her bubbling laughter and the way she reached to pull me into the
kiss.

Technology and soft drinks don't mix well.    Her drink spilled all
over her and  I heard sizzling sounds. She screamed and started
ripping the dress off as I stood there in bewildered surprise. By the
time she got the dress torn off her body, I had time to notice it had
turned transparent.

At about that time I also realized that she wasn't wearing anything
under it.  "Betty!"  It was an urgent whisper.  "The camera!"

She shrieked, then grabbed her purse and the tattered remains of the
dress. "SeeyoulaterStan!" she whispered in a rush and I watched as she
ran for the door.

As the bells chimed merrily from her hasty departure, I sighed. No way
I could casually fill my boss in later and expect to be believed.
Reluctantly, I called her and asked her to come down so I could
explain what had happened.  While I waited, I cleaned up the mess and
waited on customers as usual.
~~~

The Weed
---

"Cathy.  Stop."

"What?"

"Don't move.  Look.  There.  In the gutter."  I point down near her
feet. "See it?"

"See what?"

"There.  That little bit of green."  I get down and gently move away
the debris.  "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Mark?  Are you crazy?  It's a damn weed."

"No.  You'll see."

I look up to see a few passersby have stopped to stare.  "Excuse me
madam.  Are you finished with that cup?"  I point at the coffee cup
she is holding. "May I have it if you are?"

I look down and smile dreamily.  "Such perseverance in adversity needs
to be rewarded."  I look back at her and watch as a smile slowly
spreads across her face.

"No, not this cup.  I'll be right back.  I have something at home that
will work."  She hastens off.  Within minutes, she has returned with
an elegant vase.

As she kneels beside me, someone else speaks.  "How are you going to
get it safely if you use your hands?  I'm a gardener.  I have a
special tool for transplanting."  He hurries off and returns a short
while later.

As he left, another woman stopped as she noticed something going on. I
explained. 

"No, that isn't right.  It needs some potting soil. There's a flower
shop a few blocks away.  I'll be right back."  She too leaves, only to
return about thirty minutes later with a bag of potting soil and a
watering can.

"The clerk asked me what I was doing.  She paid for it all and gave it
to us."

"Excuse me.  I overheard what you are talking about."  An old man is
slowly kneeling beside us in wonder.  Carefully, he spreads a small
leaf and studies it.  "I haven't seen one of these since my wife died.
She used to grow them in her flower box."  He gestures at a wooden box
attached to a nearby windowsill.  "I never had the heart to maintain
it.  After."

"Please.  I'd like to give it a home."

By now, a small crowd has gathered.  "In that?  The voice is musing.
"No, It needs fixing.  But, if I fix the flower box..."  He trails off
thoughtfully.  "Sir, if you'd don't mind, I'd like to have my crew fix
up your house - for free."  He shrugs.  "Somehow, it wouldn't be right
any other way."

"Ummm...  The yard."  It's another voice from the crowd.  What do we
do about the yard?  All the yards?"  It turns apologetic. "I mean..."

Someone else speaks quietly.  "Yeah.  I see what you mean."  A young
man in his early twenties steps forward.  "I grew up here.  I remember
you and your wife.  The way you always kept your yard so neat.  I
remember the way you both smiled at us as we walked by on the way to
school."

"All the places were so nice to look at."  He turns to look at the
dilapidated houses and unkempt yards.  "When did it all change?"  He
looks at a group of young folks.  "What say we help out by cleaning
all this up?" They look around.  A few wince at first but then they
smile.  Like a small army, they spread out and begin gathering trash
and placing it in piles.

The tiny plant got placed in the vase full of special soil.  Several
days later, in a special ceremony, it was transplanted into the now
rebuilt flower box.  A special flagstone walkway went from the
sidewalk to a wider area where people could stand and look at the
small plant.

Reverently and with trembling hands, the old man carefully made the
transfer.  There was a huge cheer when he finished carefully tamping
the soil and added a bit of water.

It was only after everyone had left and the old man, Cathy and I were
standing there looking at the small plant that Cathy asked the
question we had all forgotten about in the rush of good will.

"What is it?"

The old man smiled gently.

"A dandelion."

"Most folks call them weeds. My wife thought they were the most
beautiful plants in the world."

I looked at the transformed neighborhood and then I looked at Cathy.
"I'd have to agree with your wife."

Cathy winced and then smiled ruefully.  "You were right."
~~~

MF nosex
---

The Seduction
---

I laughed in her face.  I couldn't help it.

Really.  Her question was *that* absurd.

She tried to look offended.

I gave her back her own question.  "Aren't you afraid those suppressed
desires will eventually take control of *you*?"

Her response was automatic.  "We're not talking about me, we're here
to discuss you."

I snorted and leaned back.  "I can't see much point in going on with
this charade.  Not when you've just proven you haven't been paying any
attention to what I'm saying.  You're listening.  But, you're not
hearing what I'm saying.  You can't 'help' me if you don't take the
time to understand me."

She flushed.  I guess I hit home.

"What makes you think I'm not hearing you?"

I shrugged.  "After all these sessions, you decided to ask *that*
question."  I looked at her thoughtfully and then pointed at the tape
recorder.  I slid my other hand across my throat.

She leaned back in her chair.  "I don't think we're going to get any
further today."  She leaned forward and turned the recorder off.

We looked at each for a long time.  I finally leaned forward and
placed my arms on her desk.  I rested my chin on my arms and smiled
wryly.  "Not many understand me when I talk about 'Getting familiar
with my dark side.'  To answer your question off the record, no, I'm
not afraid those 'dark desires' will someday get loose and control
me."

I waited until our eyes met.  My next words were softly spoken.  "I
know they are there.  I've let them loose and defeated them time and
again as part of my writing.  They'll never be able to surprise me.
The element of surprise is what they need to win.  That and my active
cooperation.  They can't surprise me."

I shook my head sadly.  "Even if there was a time when they were
allowed to manifest, they would be my tools.  I will never be theirs
and they know it."

"So you admit that you *could* do some of those things?"

I closed my eyes in pain.  "Yes."  I opened them again.  "And if you
can't say the same, you shouldn't be sitting where you are.  You
shouldn't be allowed to pass judgment on those more honest than
yourself."

She winced and then shook her head.  "A telling blow.  Now I
understand why you wanted me to turn off the recorder."

She leaned forward as she studied me.  "I don't see any point in
continuing these sessions.  You never did need me."

I nodded.  "I knew that."

"Yet you asked to see me?  Then kept coming back?"

"Someone I care for insisted I seek help.  That person believes that
self-knowledge has to be 'confirmed' by someone with a piece of paper
before it can be accepted as 'true'."

"You had that confirmation weeks ago."  She was pushing for something.

I leaned back and sighed.  I shook my head slightly and when I finally
let myself lock eyes with her again, I smiled sadly.  "I've spent a
lifetime looking for a soulmate.  After the first couple of sessions,
I felt like I may have found one."

"Did I?"

She stiffened and her eyes narrowed as she thought about my words.  I
waited.  Eventually her eyes started to get an inner gleam I'd never
seen.  Those wonderful lips quirked into a smile that lit up the room
and made me want to shout for joy.

She stood up and held out her right hand.  "Not many have dared to
court me in my own lair.  I'm glad you did."

When I stood and reached out to take her hand she surprised me by
pulling gently on my hand and leaning forward.  I responded by leaning
forward as well.  Our lips made gentle contact and we forgot about the
outside world.  I finally broke away and placed my hands on her desk
to support my shaking body.

As I recovered she reseated herself.  "There's no need for you to
continue to see me professionally."

I sat back down.  "Personally?"

She laughed.  It was the kind of laughter that speaks of the loss of a
great deal of tension.  "Do you think I'm going to let you get away?"

I chuckled.  "No.  Neither one of us is *that* kind of fool."
~~~

'Romance'.  I don't think I can tell you what I think it is.  OTOH, I
hope you allow me to try and *show* you what it is to me.

Alexis Siefert wrote:

>I know that we all have our different preferences in terms of what makes our
>erotic blood boil and what makes us tingle and twitch between our legs, but
>don't we all have those moments in which we sigh with longing, in which we say,
>"ohhhh," and mean it in the sweetest of possible ways?  Haven't we all read a
>passage in a book or seen a moment in a movie that becomes our definition of
>romance?
>
>So, my question is thus: what sets the butterflies aflutter?  What hits you
>deep in your soul as being romantic beyond romantic?  What was the most
>romantic poem, story, or passage you've ever read?  What was the most romantic
>scene you've ever seen in a movie?  No need to analyze why it hit you so hard,
>just let the thought flow - what do you think of when you hear the word
>"romance?"

I can't single out poems, movies, scenes, etc that I remember as being
romantic or 'most romantic'.  There have been so many and each was
special at that moment.  Picking individual ones doesn't do the others
justice or admit that what was 'special' one time paled beside
something else later.  Plus, memories often play me false.

So, rather than try and be specific and tell about what I have found
romantic, I decided to try and 'show' everyone what I find romantic.
--

Romance
---

Define the undefinable.
Individually together
Resonating,
Conflicting.

This is romance.

Tenderness.
Gentle thoughts for another.
Selfish thoughts
Of how much you mean
To me.

This is romance.

Young thoughts of now,
And forever.
Old thoughts of mortality,
And so much shared.

This is romance.

Strangers.
The first hesitant touch
Of a hand to a hand.
"Will you walk with me?
For a ways?"

This is romance.

Friends.
A table for two
Shared privacy
In the middle of a crowd.

This is romance.

Naked bodies covered with
The sweat of their passion.
Lips apart in panting recovery.
Limbs as intertwined as their souls.

This is romance.

Midnight on a lonely beach
Noon in a crowded parking lot
Sunrise on a mountain peak
Rush hour on a freeway

With that special someone,
These too,
Are romance.

Romance is that special moment
Snatched from everyday life.
During which,
Eyes wide with pleased surprise,
I rediscover my partner.

It is that awesome moment when
We remind each other
Of the reasons we are together
And the passions we share.

To live such a moment.
To witness such a moment.

That,
To me,
Is Romance.
~~~

Life is But A Stage
 ---

part one
Kyle's Story  - Curves Ahead
---

"Honey?  Cathy?"  My wife is sitting at the kitchen table.  She has
her hands wrapped around a shoebox I've never seen before.  She's
crying and shaking.   We're still new enough to being married that
I'm not sure how to handle this.

"I'm OK.  Really."  Her words sound a bit forced.

"What's in the box?"  I'm rewarded with a smile.

"What else would you expect around here?  Memories.  These start
back in high school."  She points to the opposite chair.  "Sit."

As I settle, she pushes the box in my direction.  "Go ahead.  Open
it. I'll be taking it to school for the class today."

Cathy is a teacher.  A drama coach for kids.  Her ability to get
even the shyest kid to open up and perform is nothing short of awe-
inspiring. I've often teased her about not becoming an actress.

I guess this is some mementos she wants to show her latest class.

I lift the lid and see nothing that catches my eye.  There's an old
video tape, some envelopes with papers in them and four carefully
tied stacks of letters.

I look up.  She nods back at the box.

The tape is on top so I pick it up and look at it.  "Preliminary
interview - Cathy"  The name of a well known casting agency is on
the label.    With a start, I realize the date is exactly ten years
ago.

Numbed, I look at the largest folder.  Neatly labeled in her
handwriting is a list of what's inside.  A full set of applications
and references for the same agency.  Date, the same as the tape.
Names of the people at the interview?  Four people - two actors and
two actresses who are well known for their abilities.

I carefully sort through the stacks of envelopes.  They are sorted
by who they were sent to and received from.  I recognize the names.
They are identical to the names of the people at Cathy's casting
interview.  As I think back, I dimly recall bringing some of the
envelopes in with the mail.  Somehow, I never connected the names
with the actors and actresses.  The names are fairly common and I
naturally assumed they were from people she had known before we
met.

I look closer and discover the letters are postmarked with dates
ranging from shortly after the one on the tape to within the last
week.

I look up at this stranger who has entered my life.

"I really could have been an actress."  Her voice is calm and
filled with a gentle laughter.  "But I told them I wanted to be a
teacher."

"They'll be coming to see my class today.  It's the tenth
anniversary of that interview and I asked them if they would talk
to and interview my class."

I'm speechless.  The people she's referring to don't just go
somewhere because some teacher asks them to celebrate the tenth
anniversary of a casting interview.

Do they?

For some reason, these four do.

I look down at the stack of carefully saved letters.

Finally, I go in the living room and play the tape.

When I return and collapse in the chair across from her, I notice
she has repacked the box.  I hand her the tape and she carefully
places it on top of the stack and puts the lid back in place.

"Unedited?"  I point at the tape.

"Unedited and the first acting I ever did.  Period."  Her words are
simple.

I do the math in my head.  "Eighteen?"  She nods.  "Senior year?"

"Yes.  Never thought about acting or modeling.  I wasn't pretty
enough to be any good so I never tried."  Her voice is tinged with
a self-mockery I have to strain to hear.

Finally, I settle for something non-judgmental.  "Must be a heck of
a story if the five of you still keep track of each other."

"It is.  Come to the class and you can hear Gary tell it.  He
promised."   I thought I was done with surprises for the morning.
I should have known better.

"You're amazing.  A drama coach in Nowhere not only manages to get
four well known actors and actresses to come and talk to her class,
she also finds a way to get one them to tell the story of how you
met them."

"It's absurd."  I can't help my grin.  "Maybe that's why I married
you. You have skills other than those that take place in private."

She has the grace to blush.

"No, that's not absurd."  She's smiling in a way I've come to
distrust. "What's absurd is that they are paying me for the
privilege of meeting some of my students.  I've been their private
talent scout since the day after that interview.  Didn't you ever
wonder how I managed to support myself in college?  They'll be
making job offers to some of my students as well as 'telling
stories' about the 'good old days'."

"See you in class."

Before I can gather my dropped jaw from its new home on the kitchen
floor, she's gathered up her shoebox and left.

"I'll be there."  I whisper it as I listen to the sound of her car
leaving.
---

part two
A Class Act - Gary's Story
---

As we waited for Cathy's students to enter and settle, it was
obvious she hadn't told them what her surprise was.  Nervous and
awed didn't begin to describe how most of them were.

Cathy, as regal as any queen, had one haunch casually perched on
her desk.  A man about her age sat at the back of the room and kept
looking from her to us and then back.  I figured he must be her
husband.  From the slightly stunned look on his face, it was easy
to guess she probably hadn't told him about us or her past.

"OK, class."  Her tones were brisk.  "I told you I'd have a surprise
for you today.  This is the tenth anniversary of my first and only
interview in front of some real talent scouts."

She gestured at each of us.

"Gary, Bill, Lori and Mary were the people who interviewed me."  We
each bowed or curtsied as she mentioned our names.

She had the rapt attention of everyone in the room as she opened a
shoebox.  She held up a tape.  "This is a videotape of the 'acting'
portion of the interview."   I was honestly startled.  In the ten
years we had kept in contact, she never mentioned that long ago
interview or that she had kept her copy of the tape.  A sideways
glance told me that the others were just as surprised as I was.  'I
have some students you should see.  Be a nice way to celebrate our
tenth anniversary.'  She had set us up perfectly.  If anyone was
entitled though, she was.  Not many people still treated us like
'ordinary folks'.

Had life been slightly different, one of us would be standing where
she is.  In a way, I envied her.

I watched as she walked over and put the tape in a vcr.  "Before we
watch the tape, I want you to know they are here to offer some of
you jobs."  There was a stunned silence as she straightened and
smiled.

"I'll let Gary tell you the story of how that tape was made."
What a talent we had lost when she decided to become a teacher.
With that one sentence and a gentle smile, she awakened memories of
a time when a young woman had captivated me with her abilities.

"Gary?"  Lori was shaking me.  I heard nervous laughter from some
of the students.

"Stage fright?"  Cathy's words return me to the present.

"No, not stage fright."  I smile and raise my voice so the whole room
is able to hear me.  "Ten years ago, in the space of a few minutes,
Cathy was able to get my full attention during an interview."

"Today, with one sentence and a smile, she did it again."

I pause to collect my thoughts.  "The world lost a Great One when
she decided to become a teacher."  Rapt silence and awed looks are
my reward for that simple statement.   Out of the corner of my eye,
I notice Cathy is blushing.

"We gained more than we lost when she decided to ask if she
could become our private talent scout.  Late in the interview, I
told her she could be a star or a person who makes stars - Stars.
I didn't have teaching in mind but after she talked to us, the five
of us decided to gamble."

"We accepted her offer.  This is how it happened."
---

I looked at the other interviewers.  Each nodded and smiled a bit
tiredly.

I looked over at the person by the door and gestured.

"Next."

I suppressed a groan as the next teenager walked in.  She was plain
and ordinary.  She wore a simple dress and smiled tentatively as
Bill told her to stand in front of us.

"What is your name and why are you here?"  Mary started the boring
routine.

"My name is Cathy and I'm here because my friend who wants to be a
model talked me into it.  I'd rather be a teacher.  I'm not as
beautiful as she is."

I blinked and shifted slightly.  Something had changed.

"Honest for her age.  Brutally so.  Refreshing"  Was what I wrote
down.

"How are your social skills?"  That was my contribution.

"OK I guess."  She blushed and looked down.  "Guys don't stay
around me very long though.  I don't...  You know."  She gestured
vaguely.

The last question was up to Lori.  I looked at her.  She was lost
to the world.  I finally had to nudge her to get her attention.

Cathy started to shift nervously.

"Cathy honey..." Lori locked eyes with Cathy and smiled. "Tell us
about any recent fantasy of yours.  You can act it or tell it.
Your choice." Lori was gentle.  Encouraging.

Cathy's eyes lit with an inner fire.  Suddenly, there was a
different person in the room.

I kept quiet.  I'd never heard Lori use that tone during an
interview. What she asked and how was up to her.  Obviously, she
had identified what I had dimly sensed but not been able to place.
Cathy was that rarest of young women.  She was a 'girl next door'
who would never be out of work if she chose to take up acting or
modeling.

I almost forgot to hit the switch that started the video camera and
the tape.

The four of us settled back and got comfortable.  This promised to
be quite a performance.
---

Eyes turned inward and we were forgotten as Cathy searched her
memories. Brief smiles and headshakes as she considered and
obviously rejected different ideas.

Ever seen a kid get that "What the hell, go for it 'cause I never
had a chance" look?

Cathy had that look.  Something in her wouldn't let her walk away
without giving it her best try.

"I'm walking along a road.  It's a quiet road.  It's dark but I'm
not afraid.  Darkness doesn't frighten me."  She started walking
across the room.  She looked up.

"The stars.  The air is so clear." She reached and then paused with
her arm outstretched.  I involuntarily looked to see what she was
reaching for.  "Why can't I touch them?"  Her voice was filled with
sadness and a quiet yearning.  I had the feeling that in her mind,
she had been reaching for something other than stars.

"I walk some more.  I don't know if I'm running away.  I guess I
am."

"There's nobody there for me."  She shivers briefly and then shakes
her head from side to side.  "There never is."  Despair oozes from
every calm word.

A barely audible whisper.  "Maybe someone will come along and take
me.  I wish they would.  I'm tired of waiting for them."  More
despair and longing.

She wrapped her arms around herself and continued to walk back and
forth. None of us moved to break the spell.

"My love!"  She threw her arms open and her eyes lit as she saw a
vision only she could see.  "At last.  Get me out of here.
Please."

&&& not keen on 'that' referring to a person.  If it were 'she 
possessed a radiant beauty that...', then fine.  But here Cathy is 
the radiant beauty.
The plain girl was transformed into a radiant beauty that
overwhelmed me. She had it.  For the space of a few minutes, she
had owned us.  She had what is impossible to teach but can be
learned.  Not a single person we had seen ahead of her had it.

They had acted.

Cathy was.

Tears were flowing and not just hers.

Cathy hadn't been acting. Well, she was.  Lori asked for a fantasy.
Cathy gave us one.

A dream world built by a lonely soul who wanted better from life.

The three of us clapped quietly.

Cathy jerked at the sound and then flushed deeply.

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have done that."  She was apologetic.

"Nonsense, honey."  Lori's voice had picked up some steel. "Bill,
get her a chair and then tell everyone we're through for the day."

"Yes, Ma'am."  He was grinning.

"Out.  Now"  I pointed at the door.  It was then I remembered to
shut off the recording.

Cathy settled gingerly.  "Nobody said anything about talking after
the interview."

"We haven't taken the time."  I smiled and pointed at the screen on
the far wall.  "Pretend you don't know who it is.  It's a show
you've never seen or heard about."

I ran the tape back far enough so that a couple of the other girls
would be shown before she saw her performance.

I took a deep breath and committed myself by pressing play.

I heard a couple of giggles and a muttered "She's being silly,"
before her image appeared.

I hit the pause button as she finally stopped her 'act' on the
screen. There was a long silence as she stared at her frozen image.

"That couldn't have been me.  You must have edited it somehow."

"It was you, Cathy."  Mary's voice is calm.  "You were there.
There's the tape.  It never left the machine.  There was no way it
could have been edited to produce that performance."

"Cathy."  She turned and looked at me.  "Long before there were all
the fancy gimmicks, acting and modeling depended on the person.
They still do."

"You already know what can't be taught in any school.  It can be
learned. Your friends outside haven't learned it yet.  You have."
I veer slightly.

"How come you like certain actors or models and not others?"

"I don't know.  The ones I hate though are always acting.  They
won't let me believe."

I nod.  "You're probably too young to have realized it but the ones
who 'let you believe' are the folks who will be working right to
the day they die - if they choose.  It has its hazards.  Some are
going to be so identified with a role, they'll never be able to get
work as other than that character.  Even most of those, if given a
chance to do so, will break out and move on."

I gesture back at the screen.  "You'd never be out of work.  Hard
work, thankless work at times.  Even bit parts take skill and
practice."

"You could be the 'star' or one of the people who makes the star 'a
star'."

I smile wryly.  "You've probably seen all four of us at one time or
another.  We do the bit parts nobody else wants.  We're known by
the characters we have played.  We also get to spend long hours
smiling and doing our best not to giggle or tell someone they're
being silly."

"Meeting someone like you makes it worthwhile.  Thank you."

I turn brisk and serious.  "This is a casting call for models.
There's work available immediately if you want to give it a try.
Here's our info." I hand her a stack of paperwork.

"Oh."  I smile and lean back.  "You'll make a teacher any parent
would be proud to know.  I wouldn't hesitate to send my kids to
you."

"Whatever you do, believe in yourself.  It's something you already
know how to do quite well."

"Good luck."

We stood and held out our hands.  Cathy fumbled with the paperwork
and then gingerly shook each of our hands before she headed for the
door.

Just before she opened the door, she turned back.  She was radiant.
"Thank You."

She let us watch as the mask returned.  A deep sigh and then an
ordinary girl walked out to be greeted by her friends.

The door closed on an excited babble.

"A kid with no background or desire is able to do what it took me
half a lifetime to learn."  Lori's tone is wry.  "Well, there's
always summer stock and local stuff for her if we lose her."

I nod.  "Somehow, I think she'll remember what she learned today.
Or should that be 'remember what she already knew and we reminded
her of?'" I smile as I study the still frozen image.

"Whatever."  Mary's tone is resigned.  "We have one more day and I
doubt if we'll be lucky twice.  Let's go get something to eat and
call it a day."

Just before we walk out, Mary turns to Bill.  "Don't erase that
tape until you've made at least four copies of it.  You know which
part."

"Yes Ma'am."  His smile is slight.  "At least five copies.  After
all, I recognize a Star when I see one too."
---

I fall silent and hit play on the remote that has found its way
into my hand.  Once again the five of us watch an eighteen year old
girl capture four hardened cynics in a matter of minutes.

When the tape ends, there is a stunned silence.  Then, slowly, her
class rises and gives her a standing ovation.
~~~

 ASS* Hall of Fame   HOF   Review
---

 A quick search, admittedly incomplete, revealed that celia has posted
 nothing new to assm or her site since July of 2004.

 I remember when celia joined us.  Tentative, shy, apologetic.  She
was  all of that and more.  If you've known an abuse victim, then you
have  some idea of who celia is.

 Over time, she developed an unapologetic self confidence that was a
 wonder to see.

 She also wrote.  But that is like saying "Hemingway used simple
 words".

 She gave us a gift without price.  A superbly expressed view of what
 it's like for someone to live the negative side of life.  Her
adjustment was uniquely hers, as was the way she described it to us.

 Her trademark is a dark imagery that is so vivid you can feel
yourself  living it.

 With respect, this is my Hall of Fame nomination for celia batau,
perhaps the most unique person and writer ASS* will ever see.
---

 Thank you, celia batau, for letting us 'normals' see a part of life
we  can never truly understand the way you do, as someone who lives
it.

 It has been an honor to know you.
=====

End: Miscellaneous Humans Only (complete, asst codes and styles)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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