Well, I'm sure all of you noticed that it's now 10 parts not 9. Well, my wonderful BRs Laswa and Sas (escpecially Laswa -- the fic lenghthener and smoochie adder) made some suggestions that got my muse into full tilt, requiring fleshing out some ideas so that this part became a bit too long for one posting and, therefore, has been divided into two short parts -- creating a 10 part fic (at least at this point). I have no idea what my BRs have in store for me, but I'm hoping to keep it to the 10 parts--but will post a little more frequently to get this done.
Anyway, I really thank them both for their encouragement and their inspiration as well as thanking others who comment and e-mail their support.
Part 3
“Don’t stop, mommy!” the little boy implored.
“We’ve got to get ready,” his mother explained to him. “It’s getting late.”
“Not yet--more please. And don’t forget to skip the mushy parts.”
His mother sighed and then smiled as she saw her son’s bright shining eyes eagerly anticipating her next words. <The time had gone so quickly,> she thought. In another wink of an eye, he would be as romantic as...as...and then would look forward to those mushy parts. She looked at the clock on the wall and then hurriedly turned the page.
##########
Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday,
March 16, 1994
Claire Kennedy walked down the street carrying a packet of posters that Martha Kent had given her to distribute. She marveled at the cars as they drove by--cars she had only seen in museums. They were...but then she saw her quarry about a block away. She altered the pace of her steps so that the timing would be right, and began taping a poster to the window of the Midtown Clothing Store on Main Street. As Claire turned to go, she purposefully bumped into Dr. Post who was about to enter the shop.
“Defacing private property, young woman?” the doctor asked her.
“No, sir,” Claire responded, barring his way into the store.
“You’re in my way,” he argued, as Claire and the other future traveler zigzagged back and forth as if in a choreographed dance.
“Sorry, Dr. Post,” Claire apologized.
He stared at her as if trying to remember something. “I’m new in town. How did you know who I am.”
“Duh, small town,” Claire responded.
Tempus paused. The girl standing in front of him, wearing torn jeans, a Smallville High School tee-shirt, her hair thrust back in a pony tail through a baseball cap was the epitome of 1990s teenagers, yet was familiar in several ways.
“And you’re...?”
“Claire Kennedy. I’m new, too.”
“Ah! The theatre!” Dr. Post exclaimed as he examined the poster. “The house of Ibsen, Moliere, and Shakespeare.”
“Well, not so lofty, Dr. Post. The Smallville Players are doing one by Frederick Knott,” Claire informed him.
“Who?”
“Oh! He wrote ‘Dial M for Murder’ and this one, ‘Wait Until Dark’.”
“Well, as Oscar Wilde said: ‘I love acting. It is so much more real than life’.”
“Then you should come to auditions on Sunday,” Claire encouraged. “Uh, since you apparently know a lot about *good* theatre, you can help the group. I mean, after all, this is *only* Smallville, Kansas. How much can they know? I’m from Metropolis and have had some acting experience.”
“Well, I’ve dabbled in thespian activities,” he told her.
“I’m sure you were absolutely wonderful,” Claire proffered. “This amateur group most assuredly needs our talent. And, since we’re new in town, this will be a way to meet people. Mrs. Kent is...”
“Yes, yes,” he began and then realized he wasn’t supposed to be privy to Smallville History. “I mean, who?”
“Martha Kent. She’s the director, and her son and daughter-in-law are very active in the group,”
“The Kents, yes I’ve heard tell of them.”
* * *
Lois snuggled up to her husband as they lay in bed after making love, and Clark kissed the top of her head. “Dessert before dinner is great,” she said smiling. “I wouldn’t mind dessert several times a day. Especially the kind that can’t make you fat.”
“Well, I’m here to please,” Clark said and leaned down to kiss her again. “Hey!” Clark exclaimed, looking beyond her and over at the table next to the bed. “You brought the script up here. Are you still thinking of trying out?”
“Come on, Clark. You know I have to. Can you see Cat playing an Audrey Hepburn part?”
“Well, no,” Clark admitted. “She’s more the Sharon Stone, ‘Basic Instinct’ type. Remember the scene where...”
“Ow!” Lois said, after poking Clark in the side. “No fair! This only hurts me,” she said, attempting to look angry by pouting.
Clark took her hand and kissed it. “Better?”
“Mmmm, much,” she said, as Clark tilted her face up and kissed her.
“So, Audrey, this would be a really big part for you to tackle, the biggest you’ve had with our group.”
“But *you* don’t have to be in it at all,” Lois told him. “Dan can play my husband. He’s always wanted to.” she smiled, teasingly.”
“Ah ha!” Clark said. “I knew you’ve wanted to play a love scene with Scardino.”
“Well the way his lips sort of crinkle when he...”
“Lois, I know this is only a play; but I guess I’m just too possessive, especially now,” he explained, his mouth planting little kisses on her neck.
“That’s okay, Clark,” Lois said, inching away from him. ”I know you’ve decided to take a break from the Players. Dan can...”
“No! No one will play your husband but me,” Clark insisted, sitting up and glaring at her.
“Gotcha!” Lois exclaimed. “I knew dangling Dan in front of you would change your mind. Besides, the husband’s part is really small. He’s just in the beginning and a few words at the very end. In the last play *you* had the big part and I bounced in and out. Now the roles would be reversed. That is if your mom casts it that way.”
“Mom’s not stupid, Lois. You’re the best actor in our group.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Lois replied. “You want to go over the scene?”
“Any kisses?” he asked, his eyes focused on her lips.
“Yep.”
“Then sure!” he replied, leaning in and kissing her quickly.”
“Not now,” Lois chastised him, as she picked up the script. “But soon,” she explained, smiling. “Let’s see, you’re Sam and I’m Suzy. Sam is a photographer. The lights are off on stage because Sam is using the area as his darkroom.”
“Oooh,” Clark said. “Romantic,” he added, and started nibbling her ear.
“Clark!”
“Hmmm? Okay, sorry.”
“Although Suzy is blind and should be able to get around the room easily,” Lois continued. “Her accident was fairly recent, and she is still getting acclimated to her disability.”
“How does Sam treat her?” Clark asked, playing with a lock of Lois’ hair.
“That’s the whole point of the play,” Lois said, trying to concentrate. “And I’m sure Martha will see it that way, too. Sam does not pamper her or coddle her,” she explained, moving Clark’s hand away. “In fact, he goes out of his way to push her and at times even appear to be cold to her, because he wants her to get tough and be able to handle anything that comes her way.”
“I see,” Clark said, understanding. “Shall we try it? And oh, when does the kiss come in?”
“Soon enough,” Lois said sharply. “Now behave!”
“Okay.”
Suzy/Lois: Hear about the murder?
“Murder? Not again," Clark said, interrupting. "Mom seems to be obsessed about plays with murders in them. This will be three in a row!”
“Well, the first was a mystery, the second a comedy and this is a thriller.”
“You’re reaching for an excuse,” Clark told her, extending his arm around her to hold her closer as a demonstration.
“Come on, I’ll give you the cue again.”
Suzy/Lois: Hear about the murder?
Sam/Clark: Just two seconds...
The stage directions told Sam’s character to pause, in order to wait for the light in Sam’s enlarger to go on for exactly two seconds. Clark waited.
Sam/Clark: ...what murder?
Suzy/Lois: They found a body this morning--somewhere near here.
Sam/Clark: Who told you?
Suzy/Lois: On the radio. I only heard the end of it. A woman from Scarsdale--or somewhere.
Sam/Clark: You making this up?
Suzy/Lois: Why should I?
Clark read the stage directions which told him to switch on the amber light. Clark leaned over and touched Lois on the nose, playfully. “Click,” he said.
“Be serious, Clark.”
Clark made a face, but continued.
Sam/Clark: Having a possible murder nearby is a ploy to make me stay home.
“Even though I don’t need one,” Clark inserted, kissing her again.
“Are we going to do this or not?”
“Do what?” Clark hinted, one of his eyebrows arching.
Lois sighed. “The scene.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Suzy/Lois: It is not a ploy!
Sam/Clark: You’d rather I didn’t go?
Suzy/Clark: Truthfully?
Sam/Clark: Of course.
Suzy/Lois: Well no. I mean yes. I always want you to stay home. But not because somebody’s been murdered....because of me. Need the ceiling lights?
Sam/Clark: Yes please, it’s a bit gloomy.
Lois paused a moment as the script directed so that she should move carefully toward the wall, feel around and switch on the ceiling lights but then accidentally switch off Sam’s lamp.
Sam/Clark: That one I need.
Suzy/Lois: Sorry. (She switches on the bench lamp).
Sam/Clark: Now--quick check. Phone number for Police Emergency?
Suzy/Lois: Oh--just dial zero and say you’re blind.
Sam/Clark: Operators get busy and don’t answer.
Suzy/Lois: Oh! *That* urgent! So the murder *does* worry you.
Sam/Clark: This one you *must* know. Four four zero...one two three four.
Suzy/Lois: Wait till I get the sugar lumps.
Lois paused again while she counted in her head the time it would take to get over to the kitchen table and take some lumps of sugar out of the bowl and pick up a small sharp stick to use to mark the cubes.
Suzy/Lois: Okay. Four four owe...one two three four. It’s these easy ones that fool me...so it’s *four*--*not* four owe, four *not* owe four, but *four four one two three four*?
“Hold it,” said Clark. “I gather this play takes place before the use of 911 for emergencies. It’s a cute bit, but won’t the audience find it difficult to believe?”
“Well, the program will say that the play takes place in 1964.”
“I guess,” Clark said. “Today there must be much improved ways that a visually impaired person handles things--what with computers, cell phones, etc. which are monitored to recall things with just a push of one button.”
“I’m sure it’s better now. Rod Purcell seems to handle things easily.”
“Well,” Clark said. “You’ve just met him. He had some struggles at first, but his dad and his school friends are really supportive. And, apparently unlike your Suzy, he is acclimated to his disability.”
“It looks that way in class,” Lois acknowledged. “The students appear to respect him.”
“He’s incredibly bright and doesn’t use his handicap as a crutch of any kind.”
“Hmmm, if I get this part, Clark,” Lois began, as she put her head on her husband’s chest. “Do you think Rod would agree to coach me?”
“I bet he would.”
“Okay, where were we?” Lois inquired, looking back at the script.
“How about skipping to the kissing part?” Clark asked her, planting a brief kiss on her lips. He drew back and looked at her. “Yes, I know, the scene,” he said reluctantly.
Sam/Clark: Then ask for the sixth Precinct.
Suzy/Lois: Sixth Precinct. Four plus two, okay. (Rapidly) Doctor’s office 924-6381. Want the Chinese laundry?
Sam/Clark: Now--my bus leaves at five and they return from...where?
Suzy/Lois: Asbury Park.
Sam/Clark: At...?
Suzy/Lois: Er...every hour on the hour.
Sam/Clark: I’ll phone you as soon as I get there and again when I’m leaving. Oh--and if that doll woman phones, just say I still haven’t found it.
Suzy/Lois: Maybe...
“Wait! Doll?” Clark asked.
“Yeah, that’s sort of the A plot--three men are looking for this doll they think Sam has. He had it once--he was holding it for someone--but now it’s missing. He doesn’t know that there is heroin inside the doll. The B plot is Suzy’s ability to outwit all the bad guys even though she is blind and *just* a woman--remember, it’s the early 60s.”
“I see. Okay, go on.”
Suzy/Lois: Maybe Gloria’s seen the doll.
Sam/Clark: No she hasn’t. I asked her mother. But let Gloria look around for it while she is down here. It must be somewhere.
Suzy/Lois: *That* girl isn’t coming here today.
Sam/Clark: *Just* to do your shopping--grocery list and five dollars by the phone.
Suzy/Lois: *Not Gloria!*
* * *
Claire placed a poster in the window of the hardware store and paused as she caught her own reflection. She took off her hat, adjusted her pony-tail and regarded herself. Yep, she could do it. She could look twelve. She could be Gloria. It’s a good thing that her height hadn’t really kicked in yet. She was fifteen, sixteen next month, but she was just about 5’1”. She knew she would spurt soon. Her father was over 6’ and her mother was 5’8”. Actually, it was a blessing in disguise that she was still small, as she could play younger girls on stage. She was thirteen when she played eleven year old Annie and fourteen when she played eleven year old Mary.
Now she had to flip flop between playing a seventeen-year-old senior in high school and a twelve-year-old brat. Yes, she could be Gloria, the little monster who had a crush on Sam.
* * *
Lois paused and looked at her husband.
“Sam is going to be a difficult role for you, Clark. You can’t jump in and try to help Suzy at all. You can’t be her protector. You have to be able to stand there and watch her struggle,” Lois instructed. “The struggle, the challenge, the barriers she has to overcome is what creates the character that is able to win in the end.”
“I can do that,” Clark insisted.
“Sure you can,” Lois said, unbelievingly. “You can be callous,” she said in a mocking tone. “You can refuse to help your wife when she’s in need.”
“I could act that way.”
“Yeah, right, Clark. You can’t even ignore...” she began and then stopped as she saw that faraway look in his eye. “Uh huh.... Go!”
Clark spun into his spandex and flew out the window.
Lois scrunched down under the covers and read the next few lines in the script.
She looked over at the indentation on the pillow next to her and moved over so she had her head where Clark had just rested his. She breathed in his scent and stroked the pillow. How in the world had she ever slept alone before. It was only a couple of minutes and she missed her husband already--his warmth, his hands, his lips.
A whoosh interrupted her thoughts as Clark, once again wearing only his sleep shorts climbed into bed beside her.
Lois snuggled into him. “Missed you,” she said.
“A robbery of a gas station over on the interstate.”
Lois smiled at him. The character of Sam would be a stretch for him. She understood the concept of tough love, but knew her husband was incapable of it. Clark had tried it during their engagement. He had broken up with her for her own good, but that hadn’t lasted long. They had both been miserable and had realized that no matter what, they belonged together--supporting, nurturing, caring.
“I love you, husband,” Lois said.
“And I love you, wife,” Clark told her gathering her closer to him.
“Now, let’s get back to the script.”
“Lo-is?”
“Trust me, Clark. It will be fun.”
“So what’s next?”
“According to the directions Sam watches as an angry Suzy knocks a salt shaker off the table. Suzy is then supposed to stop and wait for Sam to pick it up--but he doesn’t.”
Suzy/Lois: Okay then where is it?
Sam/Clark: Not listening?
Suzy/Lois: Not listening!
Sam/Clark: Near the table.
Lois looked at the next directions and smiled. She complied by feeling circuitously for the dropped item.
“Hey!” Clark exclaimed, as Lois’ hand moved seductively under the comforter. “Now who’s messing around?”
“My turn to have a little diversion.”
“We don’t have to finish the scene,” Clark told her, his voice husky. “We can...” he encouraged and stroked her lips with his thumb. He moved his hand to finger a lock of hair as he leaned down and captured her upper lip in his mouth. His tongue darted into her mouth seeking her out.
* * *
“Pass the salt,” Dr. Post told his colleague, as the two voyeurs sat in front of a closed circuit television set, watching the love scene unfold between Sam and Suzy AKA Lois and Clark. “Popcorn is so perfect with such a hackneyed and cornball love scene,” he told Liz. “Now of course, if I were the hero, I’d be enjoying a Merlot in front of a large rock fireplace toasting a lascivious woman, bawdily dressed in flimsy silk barely covering the erotic locales, her arms outstretched and chained to the rock wall, her.... Oh, but I digress. I’m the villain in this piece,” he began, tossing a few kernels up into the air and catching them in his mouth, “and my job is to wear the black hat and to make Romeo and Juliet suffer.”
“You...” Liz Lathrop began.
“Yes, I know,” he told her. “I’m mixing my metaphors. Well, in a place like Smallville where the opportunities are so minute, that can’t be helped,” he said, watching the two embracing on the screen.
“We should be making our own opportunities,” Liz suggested half to herself.
“Well, perhaps this is where the villain accelerates things.”
* * *
tbc.
