Chapter 12

"Cut! That's a print!" The sound stage was suddenly filled with applause. Once in a while rarely an actor gives such a fine performance in front of the camera that the other actors and crew watch in pure appreciation, and then, when the scene is finished they pay the actor or actress this type of special homage. For the actor no gift is greater.

The young director, looking more like an out-of-work actor or hippie in his jeans and long hair, rushed onto the set and threw his arms around Charlene. "You were wonderful, my dear... a marvel!"

Charlene, still somewhat dazed, smiled wanly as she realized the scene was over and that she really was Charlene, the actress, not Lydia the pathetic girl in the story.

As the director wandered off to look at his script and block out the next scene, the make-up man rushed in to wipe away Charlene's tears and repair her make-up. He also offered special congratulations.

"That's all right," the first assistant called to the make-up man. "Charlene's finished for the day. You were great, Charlene. Great," he said, walking up to her. "Sam'll give you your call for tomorrow." He turned and followed the director.

Charlene looked at her watch. "Gee, it's like a present;only four o'clock."

Sam, the second assistant, approached her just in time to hear her statement. "Don't get too excited," he said. "Mr. Rotheimer was here watching your scene and said to have you drop by his office when you were through. You were fantastic, Charlene."

"Oh, sure. So great Mr. Rotheimer didn't say a word. Just left orders for me to drop by his office."

Sam laughed abruptly. "Believe me, he was speechless. He was really moved. I know. I stood by his chair during the entire scene. Your call tomorrow is eight in make-up."

"Gee, I'm practically getting a vacation," Charlene said, sauntering over to her dressing room.

Her stand-in jumped up and followed her. "You were so great, Charlene. I just had to tell you. You made us all cry with you."

"Why, thank you, Elaine," Charlene smiled.

Charlene felt definitely on top of the world as she changed into her own clothes brushed blued denims and a white pullover sweater. Funny, she thought; with all her new, beautiful clothes, she usually just wore simple jeans or denims to work. Sort of a uniform. But then, why not?

When she walked out of her dressing room, Miss Pearson, the welfare worker, was waiting for her. Sunshine had broken through her gray exterior. "You were just splendid, Charlene," she beamed.

"Thank you very much, Miss Pearson. I appreciate your telling me."

"Well, we're through quite early today, aren't we?"

"Yes, but I have to drop by Mr. Rotheimer's office." And then like a stroke of purest genius, a diabolic thought came to Charlene. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me. It's on your way out."

"Oh, certainly. I'd be happy to." Miss Pearson apparently took her responsibilities seriously.

Charlene looked Mr. Rotheimer's secretary directly even defiantly in the eye, forbidding her to even hint at familiarity. "I was told to drop by on my way out."

"Oh, yes," Miss Stern answered. "I was on the set with Mr. Rotheimer when you did your big scene. Oh, you were thrilling. The whole studio is talking about it. He's waiting for you. Go right in."

Charlene left the two women raving about her performance. She knocked on Rotheimer's door, as a form of courtesy, then walked in.

For the first time since she had met him, Rotheimer stood to greet her. He stood and moved out from behind his grand desk and clasped her by the shoulders. "My dear," he kissed her on the forehead, "You were magnificent! You're a great actress a natural. Of course, I knew it the first day you walked in here. Instinct, you know."

"Thank you, Mr. Rotheimer." She knew she was supposed to feel honored by the praise, the paternal kiss on the forehead, the walk to her around the desk. But what she really felt was a simple yet heady thing: power.

It was exhilarating. She waited.

"Come and sit down, my dear." He pulled the chair to the side of his desk, the position where Miss Stern usually took dictation. He helped her to her seat. Another first.

He replaced himself in his own chair and continued, "Yes, I'm going to make you into a top star." Charlene was amused at how the informal "we" was replaced by the personal "I" in this instance. His eyes pierced into her. They were softened, as was his voice. "I've missed our little trysts, my dear." Charlene shuddered. She could hardly call her services trysts.

When she didn't say anything, he tried again. "When I watched you do that scene, I really ached for you, Charlene."

"I'm glad I was so convincing," she said.

"Come here," he said, taking her by the hands and pulling her up in front of him. Charlene could barely conceal her smile. She stood before him.

He undid her belt and pulled down her zipper and yanked her denims down. "Jesus, these things wrap you up better than a chastity belt," he remarked.

Then he pulled her panties down and fingered her crotch. "You're nice and wet," he said. It was true. She was excited. It was not the way he thought but that excitement had made her wet, indeed. She was salivating with anticipation.

He moved his finger back and forth, then grabbed his zipper and pulled it down. "Now!" he cried, fumbling for his hardened penis. "Now. Get down under the desk."

"Gee, I can't today, Mr. Rotheimer. Miss Pearson, my welfare worker, is waiting out in the front office. I'm supposed to be on my way home."

He exploded. "Welfare worker! What the hell is she doing here? Bad enough to have those pests on the sets."

"She was just walking out with me. She likes to be certain that I'm all right and on my way home. I'm a minor, remember?" Charlene said "minor" with new meaning.

Mr. Rotheimer stuffed himself back into his trousers and re-zipped. "Get your pants up. What're you waiting for? If she took it in her mind to burst in here... " He trailed off. He knew that it was unlikely, yet he didn't feel secure with "that woman" sitting out in the front office.

Charlene casually put herself back together, then smiled sweetly. "Good afternoon, Mr. Rotheimer. Have a nice night." She sailed out the door in Queen Mary fashion. Not the boat, the queen.

"Hi Mom!" Charlene called as she stepped into the hallway and closed the front door.

"Oh, Charlene, baby." Sonja came running in from the kitchen and threw her arms around her offspring. "I have a nice dinner going. I'm so sorry, baby, about the last couple of nights. Guess I wasn't too much help to you, your first two days on the picture. But things are going to be different from now on."

"Well, as they say, it takes two to tango, Mom. It's just as much my fault as yours."

She held her mother back a second and scrutinized her short curly hair. "Did you have your hair cut and permed, Mom?"

Sonja laughed. "No, this is just my housewifely wig. I auditioned for a commercial today. I've got to get back in gear. 'Fraid I let my own work slide a bit,that was part of the problem."

"Did you get it?"

"I'll, find out tomorrow. It's down to two of us."

"Luck, Mom." Charlene kissed her mother on the nose. "I sure hope you get it."

"Well, whether I do or not isn't the important thing. What is important is that I am looking after my own career. You are perfectly capable of looking after your own career. You're adult no matter what the state says. And you have a right to live your own life."

"Did you talk to Mr. M. today?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, I just wondered. I spent the night at his house again." Charlene marveled at how right Daddy M. had been about Sonja.

"I assumed you had, since you had the night before."

"Yes." They walked into the kitchen and Charlene helped Sonja with some last-minute things for dinner. "He's told me I have a home there any time. What d'you think about that?"

"I think that's just splendid," Sonja answered, adding a dazzling smile. "Keep me on my toes. After all, I'm not worried about you defecting to your father."

"Hardly." Charlene paused, then said, "Mom, Mr. M. has asked me to call him Daddy M., says he loves me more than his own daughters. Did he ever say anything like that to you when you worked for him?"

Sonja had a difficult time keeping her smile from bursting into a laugh. She knew only too well the charms of Sidney Morris. "No, baby, but then, I was closer to his own age, remember."

"That's right."

"Here, break up this lettuce. He's a nice man and a good friend to both of us. Outside of always having his home open to you, will you be seeing anything of him?"

"Yes. We have a standing dinner date every Monday night his wife plays cards that night."

"That's nice. I'm glad. You need a father figure in your life."

"I fuck my father figure, Mother."

Sonja looked up from the sauce she was preparing. "So? What else is new?"

Charlene smiled. It was a great day. She was anxious to get Jon and her mother together at dinner and tell them her success story. "Where's Jon? Seems like I haven't seen him for days."

"That's another thing I've reorganized around here. I told him I didn't mind if he couldn't do his part financially, provided he tried. I've never been lazy, so I sure as hell can't stand lazy men."

Charlene was surprised that Sonja had laid the law down to Jon so adamantly. After all, he was a great lover. Then she recalled the scene the night before with Tom. Maybe she had replaced Jon with an even younger man. "How did he take it, Mom?"

"Very well. In fact, I think he was relieved. You see, he's the kind who has to have a coach behind him giving him a push all the time, and I wasn't prepared to keep that up. He took off at nine full of bounce and smiles. Checked in at noon to say he had several things in the offing. He'll be here at six for dinner after all, we can't let him starve. And Charlene," She looked at her daughter with concern. "I've invited someone else for dinner."

Charlene understood immediately. "Of course, Mother. I always love our small groups. Besides, it's my career, but it is your house. I don't want to forget that again."

Sonja put her spoon down and went to her daughter. "No, Charlene, this is your house, too. Your home. And I want you to be comfortable and happy here."

Charlene kissed her mother. "I am, Mom. What time is Tom coming?"

"Six-thirty."

Charlene broke into a delighted laugh. "Oh, good. Plenty of time to shower and change. Do you need me any more?"

"No. I planned on doing everything myself. You're a hard-working actress. But it was fun fiddling around in the kitchen together."

Charlene skipped on up the stairs, humming to herself. Tom, she thought. Well, if her mother had taught him as well as she had taught Charlene, Tom should soon be a helluva lover. Yes, the evening held a lot of promise.

In fact, life held a lot of promise.