Story: St Doria's

Here's another random thing I wrote recently.


At last, Oliver could breathe easily again. Ever since encountering that particular roommate it had felt like she had been forced to hold her breath just in case he made some comment or other about it. The situation was rather intolerable, truly. What if Simon got it into his head to sneak a peek at something he shouldn’t be allowed to see? Oliver shuddered: A completely unexpected obstacle.

“That’s quite the roomie you have out there,” John said, giving her a reassuring slap on the back. “Don’t tell me, the sort that flirts with anything what’s got a pulse?”

“Hide the kidney beans,” Jamie quipped. Both Oliver and John stared at him for a moment. “Er, because they’re pulses. Right? Grain legumes? I’ll just take a seat.”

“Don’t let on that I actually got the joke,” John whispered. “It would just encourage more.” Oliver nodded in agreement, her thinking exactly. She reassessed this boy in a new light. That performance outside, that smooth lie just now… Could it be? Could he possibly -

“Are you also a performer?” Oliver asked, hoping for a kindred spirit that could balance out the craziness of her flirtatious roomie.

“We all are after a fashion,” John said with a chuckle. “Everyone performs because everyone has something to hide.” He cupped Oliver’s chin and looked directly into her eyes. “Makes me wonder what you’re keeping locked away?”

In spite herself, Oliver felt her heart skip a beat. It struck her all at once, how charming and beautiful John was. It almost made her want to confess the truth, that she was really a girl under an assumed name. She felt this light pull, to stare into this boy’s eyes for the rest of the day…

“Oh dear,” John said, suddenly pulling away. Reality snapped back and Oliver reeled. What almost happened there? “If you can’t even last against something like that, you’ll never last the year with someone like Simon. He’ll eat you alive.”

Had she just been… Seduced? How unusual. Almost amusing, really. Oliver straightened herself out and mentally slapped herself. Here she was, supposed great performer of her generation being pushed around by charming, handsome young men that were toying with her emotions as easily as she should play upon an audience. It was an assault upon her professional pride. A cold hard slap. A taunt. A torment.

“Well,” she said, adopting a bit of a more aloof air. “I think I can learn to handle Simon. If he tries to eat me, he will walk away with indigestion.”

John seemed to find it amusing, and so did Jamie. Then again maybe he wasn’t even listening to the conversation. He was tinkering with something that Oliver didn’t really care too much about right now. Instead she walked forward towards John, making unconscious observations about his body language. Most people are shocked by how much human communication is entirely based on body language rather than the spoken word, but any real actor knew how to employ it as a language all their own. It suddenly became apparent to Oliver that she was in the presence of a master.

“You would do so well on stage,” she said, gently gripping the boy’s chin as if to examine the face. “I can see it now: The call for makeup, the artist arrives. She throws up her hands in despair and cries, there is nothing for me to do here! The director weeps at every line read, the critics rave, agents clamour for your business. Your name in lights. Fortune and fame, yours for the taking.”

She could see it in his eyes. Aware of the arousal. Aware of the seduction. But the real trick to seduction wasn’t to force it onto someone. It was to get them to want it. Make fighting the growing feelings seem like a hopeless battle, where victory was a kind of defeat all to itself. The word <i>gotcha</i> flitted through Oliver’s mind as she saw him lean in for a kiss…

“Finished!” a voice cried, and suddenly John and Oliver sprang away from each other. Goodness, had they almost - Oliver shook her head and replayed what had happened just now, and almost kicked herself once again: John had been seducing her right back the entire time! She looked over at him and beheld well-concealed confusion. Had he even realised he was doing it? A natural! There was no other explanation! A natural talent, right here in front of her!

“Wh-What do you have there?” John asked, adjusting his collar and quickly slipping back on the mask of the cool, controlled gentleman. He peered at the thing Jamie was holding up triumphantly and let out a low whistle that finally drew Oliver’s attention towards it -

And her jaw immediately hit the floor. She raised her hands into the air in a “don’t shoot” gesture, but honestly that too was a performance. A gun like that didn’t exist in the real world. Yet it would not be hard for anyone to suspend their disbelief. It looked exactly like something had been stolen right out of a 1960s science fiction serial, with the sole exception being that if you allowed yourself to forget a few things about basic physics you might believe it would actually function.

“Did you… make that?” Oliver asked, masking her anticipation as best she could.

“Yep,” Jamie said, twirling it around like a gunslinger. “Just a little something I threw together just now for the heck of it. You like?”

Just now? While she was talking with/seducing/being seduced by John? In that short a timescale? A genius actor… A genius prop designer… Well then. It certainly looked as though she’d stumbled upon her best friends for the next few years, didn’t it?

“Do you think you could make things to spec?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager. Jamie nodded enthusiastically. “How much would you be willing to ask for that?”

“Ah, just gimme the materials and -”

“What my esteemed friend here actually means,” John interrupted. “Is that his time is a more valuable commodity as compared with the materials he makes use of. It is simply unthinkable - Completely unthinkable - that he would consider making use of that to design props for the theatre club, for anything less than, say, the cost of the materials plus ten dollars an hour. A fair price considering how fast Jamie works, wouldn’t you agree?”

That didn’t sound too bad. Really. A few minutes of time working on a prop… Yet she also knew it would likely add up over time. Sure, a couple minutes of work on a gun that looked more real than real. Then another couple tweaking a statue or laboratory set, or… Even then it was hardly anything! There had to be some string attached somewhere, surely!

“Alright,” she relented. “Fine. I should be able to manage that in the club budget.”

“Speaking of clubs, there are two other small conditions,” John said, rolling on the back of his feet. “Firstly, I would like you to give me some acting lessons. You’re pretty good at it, certainly enough to make me interested in learning how to do it.”

Oliver didn’t jump for joy, but only because she was restrained enough to have some modicum of self-control. Acting lessons? The perfect chance to perform a different kind of seduction! The sweet siren call of theatre! A natural talent like that taking the stage would blow their socks off!

“Consider it done. Your other condition?”

John flashed a smile that was almost far too charming for its own good. “Since we have just established our own little club, you will need to go next door and speak to the club president about Jamie using some of that valuable time to assist you. I would like you to go next door, and in these exact words, state the words “I need John and Jamie’s help”. Then explain it however you like. I’m sure they’ll say yes if you do that. Got it?”

What, was that all? Oliver shrugged. It seemed such a small task, and yet John was treating it like a significant deal. “Very well,” she said, turning on her heel and walking out of the room feeling rather satisfied about a deal well made. “I shall return shortly.”

“Probably not,” John mumbled, staring quite hard at Oliver’s rear end… Not that she noticed in the slightest.

“What was all that about?” Jamie said once Oliver was clear of the room.

“Just trying out a theory,” John said, allowing herself to adopt a bit of a more feminine stance and stretch out her muscles a little. “Just a simple, stupid little theory that I almost hope ain’t right, but mostly hope is.”