I’m Terrible Tara.”
“You hardly look like Terrible Tara,” said Sarah, Peter’s older sister.
“Actions speak louder than looks, I guess. Tara always starts a match by sneaking up behind her opponent before the bell rings, and uses at least one ‘foreign object’ in the course of the ‘match.’ Lisa starts by getting attacked from behind and gets a ‘foreign object’ or two conked off her head before the match ends.”
“A couple of the best actors I know are professional wrestlers,” said Harrison. “They perfect characters so well that – especially with a live audience, but through TV as well – they create whole love and hate relationships with an audience. That’s all acting is really: creating a relationship with your audience. When you read the character, you decide whether she’s sweet Little Lisa or Terrible Tara, and hold that persona in your mind as you read the lines. If you keep doing it, you develop a bunch of characters until you get to be me with a background of a few hundred characters to step into and out of like you do Lisa and Tara. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve got a leg up on most young actresses; you have actually experienced it, changed your persona and followed it out. Most of them haven’t; they’re just playing themselves and hoping to catch on.”
“Even something as simple as I’ve done?”
“It is simple,” said Harrison. “Lisa is a sweet little girl the guys want to protect and cuddle; Tara is a hellcat they want to fight to get into. It’s simple; you just convey which one to the audience. Cash says you’re his biggest draw because you seem to be able to do it.”
“If I ever do it again, Cash and I are going to have a little talk about compensation.”
“I don’t really think you’re going to do it again,” Rachel said, “so I doubt the question will come up.”
I put the peignoir on. The situation just called for me to wear something, anything. Peter pushed me down on the bed and took it off. Then he did the perfect thing: nothing. He lay against my back, holding me over my breast and stomach and not moving, just being there for me. He seemed to know that all this had frightened me badly and I needed to be a little girl, safe and warm in his arms. We lay there, awake, it seemed like half the night, although it probably wasn’t all that long. I couldn’t sleep and if he hadn’t been holding me, I would probably be up and pacing. I could feel that he was hard against my tush.
“Time to switch beds,” I said and led him into the other room.
I got us up on our sides pulled him into me and hooked his leg to hold him tight. Then I started to cry.
I don’t think it bewildered him; I had just disarmed him before I started. I had his arms pinned in my embrace. One leg under him the other hooked by mine, and me, crying into the space between his neck and shoulder. Plus, he was inside and since I wasn’t moving, his arms were pinned; he was just stuck there.
Well, I did get to cry myself out and was pretty much all cried out by the time I let him go and proceeded to try and make him cum, which, not at all surprisingly, took no time at all.
“Still scared?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Will this help you face tomorrow?”
“Immensely,” I responded.
“They’re just ordinary people, you know.”
“To you, and maybe if I had met them one at a time. But they sort of got thrown at me en masse. And then Cash; I mean, that wasn’t even half fair, not telling me about Cash.”
“Would you have gone with me knowing Cash was my cousin?”
I thought for a second. “Probably. Actually, I’ll amend that. About the only way I wouldn’t have gone with you would have been a straight out proposition for a paid sexual encounter. Anything else, I would have come without hesitation. You were – in fact, still are – the hottest, prettiest man on earth, and riding with you made me hot as hell long before we ever got to Sugarloaf. I cried when
“You hardly look like Terrible Tara,” said Sarah, Peter’s older sister.
“Actions speak louder than looks, I guess. Tara always starts a match by sneaking up behind her opponent before the bell rings, and uses at least one ‘foreign object’ in the course of the ‘match.’ Lisa starts by getting attacked from behind and gets a ‘foreign object’ or two conked off her head before the match ends.”
“A couple of the best actors I know are professional wrestlers,” said Harrison. “They perfect characters so well that – especially with a live audience, but through TV as well – they create whole love and hate relationships with an audience. That’s all acting is really: creating a relationship with your audience. When you read the character, you decide whether she’s sweet Little Lisa or Terrible Tara, and hold that persona in your mind as you read the lines. If you keep doing it, you develop a bunch of characters until you get to be me with a background of a few hundred characters to step into and out of like you do Lisa and Tara. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve got a leg up on most young actresses; you have actually experienced it, changed your persona and followed it out. Most of them haven’t; they’re just playing themselves and hoping to catch on.”
“Even something as simple as I’ve done?”
“It is simple,” said Harrison. “Lisa is a sweet little girl the guys want to protect and cuddle; Tara is a hellcat they want to fight to get into. It’s simple; you just convey which one to the audience. Cash says you’re his biggest draw because you seem to be able to do it.”
“If I ever do it again, Cash and I are going to have a little talk about compensation.”
“I don’t really think you’re going to do it again,” Rachel said, “so I doubt the question will come up.”
I put the peignoir on. The situation just called for me to wear something, anything. Peter pushed me down on the bed and took it off. Then he did the perfect thing: nothing. He lay against my back, holding me over my breast and stomach and not moving, just being there for me. He seemed to know that all this had frightened me badly and I needed to be a little girl, safe and warm in his arms. We lay there, awake, it seemed like half the night, although it probably wasn’t all that long. I couldn’t sleep and if he hadn’t been holding me, I would probably be up and pacing. I could feel that he was hard against my tush.
“Time to switch beds,” I said and led him into the other room.
I got us up on our sides pulled him into me and hooked his leg to hold him tight. Then I started to cry.
I don’t think it bewildered him; I had just disarmed him before I started. I had his arms pinned in my embrace. One leg under him the other hooked by mine, and me, crying into the space between his neck and shoulder. Plus, he was inside and since I wasn’t moving, his arms were pinned; he was just stuck there.
Well, I did get to cry myself out and was pretty much all cried out by the time I let him go and proceeded to try and make him cum, which, not at all surprisingly, took no time at all.
“Still scared?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Will this help you face tomorrow?”
“Immensely,” I responded.
“They’re just ordinary people, you know.”
“To you, and maybe if I had met them one at a time. But they sort of got thrown at me en masse. And then Cash; I mean, that wasn’t even half fair, not telling me about Cash.”
“Would you have gone with me knowing Cash was my cousin?”
I thought for a second. “Probably. Actually, I’ll amend that. About the only way I wouldn’t have gone with you would have been a straight out proposition for a paid sexual encounter. Anything else, I would have come without hesitation. You were – in fact, still are – the hottest, prettiest man on earth, and riding with you made me hot as hell long before we ever got to Sugarloaf. I cried when
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