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At The Last Act, And After
I agree: she is quite the actress. Her
star is on the rise. She has been murdered,
raped, tortured, and mutilated almost
a hundred times, just in this season
on the stage; and, one ruefully suspects,
a thousand times over in the perverse minds
of predatory marks we cannot remove
from the audience. Alas, they, also, pay
for seats and boxes. But, as for her reviews---
all of them have been respectful, and
some of them have been superlative.
One item has not been too much noticed:
she performs, always, unshod---just stockinged feet:
whether Anne Askew, or Cleopatra, or
Jael, whatever the part . . . shoeless,
her feet sheathed in tan, or golden-tan, sheer silk
(but opaque, doubly woven, at heels and toes---
to prevent damage from runs, snags, or small rips).
Me? I am just one of the back-stage
assistants. I help to perform the special
effects: when eyeballs pop out and roll,
or limbs are severed and (still twitching) crawl
across the stage: that is the work I do.
If larger torture devices are required,
or certain kinds of restraints, I help her
to take her position in them before
the curtain rises on the next scene.
Always, though, after I have finished
assisting her, I draw one fingertip
gently across her silken soles, a sign
of affection we share and enjoy together.
In a few moments, she will step out to
the corridor to meet some well-wishers.
You will see how utterly beautiful
she is without costume or prop. We have
late reservations for dinner, and then
a starlit walk beside the Seine and to
the hotel, and another party
from which, she has decided, we will slip
away, as soon as we can, to our
very sumptuous room, where our clothes---
except for her soft and silken stockings---
will just fall away, along with all cares as
we give ourselves to each other, and to love.
Starward
[jlc]
