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The Method: Part 1

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be an actress.

I've always been mesmerized by the flickering images on movie and television screens. I had memorized long portions of dialogue from my favorite movies and TV shows. I appeared on stage for the first time in kindergarten and by the time I graduated high school I already had over thirty different credits on my resume.

I was ready to make the move to New York to try my hand at an acting credit the day after I graduated, but decided to listen to the advice of family and friends to get a college degree first, just in case I didn't make it. I will be graduating next year, but in the meantime I've been appearing in as many community theater productions as I can.

Most recently, I auditioned for a play that was going to be directed by a local man who had himself been in my situation twenty years earlier. He left for New York and actually appeared in a Broadway play. I was incredibly nervous during my audition, terrified that someone who really knew talent would dismiss mine. Instead, he cast me and took me under his wing.

Well, okay, it was a bit more than that. Almost immediately an attraction began to develop between us, although we decided not to pursue our romantic interest until after the run had ended.

Rehearsals were going well except for two scenes that I just kept having trouble with. One night Rick suggested he come over to my apartment and he would help me with the scenes in private, apart from the critical eyes of the rest of the cast.

As we worked on the scene, we shared a bottle of wine and began to get very comfortable. At the same time, my frustration level rose with not being able to do the scene the way I wanted.

Finally, I just tossed the script down and yelled, "I just can't connect. I don't get it and I'm not going to get it. I'm just going to have to live with getting to that scene and bombing in front of everyone."

"Oh that's crap," he said, "Get up."

I stood up only to have him guide me down into a sitting position, while he splayed his legs out and rested behind me.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"I'm not really a Method actor, as you know, but I have to admit that it does have its uses. You can exploit some things from it for your own personal advantage. There's some technique that can be learned from it. I probably wouldn't pass muster as a teacher, but this is something I've used myself when I was having trouble with a scene and this particular way of doing things worked for me, so why not? First off, we have to figure out what's happening here. What's going on this scene?"

I sighed. "She's telling the story about the first time she ever made love with a boy. When she lost her virginity."

"Pretty big time in a girl's life, yes? Pretty big moment for anyone, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess so."

"Never guess. It is or it isn't. If you're wrong, you're wrong, but at least you're certain of how you feel. Now, is losing your virginity a pretty big moment in a person's life or is it not?"

"Right. It is," I nodded.

He began lightly rubbing my back. It was incredibly sensual, arousing and comforting all at the same time. "Do you remember your first time?"

"Yes. It wasn't that long ago."

I didn't want him to know how inexperienced I am, so I didn't tell him that I didn't lose my virginity until I was 19 because I didn't have any boyfriends in high school due to being a little overweight.

"Okay, I want you to think back to it and remember every detail that you can. Remember every sensory component involved. Can you do that?"

"Sure."

"Good. Let's start with smell. That's usually the strongest memory sense that we have. Think back to the day or night it happened. Remember exactly where you were. Exactly what was going on. Now, tell me, what are you smelling?"

I couldn't help but notice that voice barely above a whisper, yet still containing a growly, forceful purr.

I closed my eyes and felt his warm breath on my neck. He had pushed my dress off my shoulders so that they lay bare. His fingers barely made contact with my skin as he ran them from the nape of my neck to the end of my shoulder blades and then languorously back again. I was suddenly covered in goosebumps and my nipples got really hard.

"His cologne. I can't remember what it was, because it the was some cheap knockoff brand."

"A man of taste and distinction, I see," he said in a mocking voice and I couldn't help but giggle. "No. I'm sorry. Keep it up. Don't let me distract you."

That was going to be easier said than done. The stimulating number he was doing on my shoulder blades had already led to a certain undeniable distraction having to do with my nipples. Always ultra-sensitive, at this moment in time they were so hard the feeling was almost one of pure pain, pressing against the rayon material of my dress as though in revolt.

And then, just like that, my nipples were free, along with the rest of my breasts. Rick's hands had slid down along the line of my collar bone, then into my cleavage, where he pushed the dress up and over my tits.

Then his fingers were on me and he was tracing circles around the bullet-hard explosions emanating from their softness. To my surprise, he continued asking me about my first time.

Contributed by: Tim Sexton 02/12/2006

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