The Nude Scene
(mid 1980s)

It was the summer after my junior year at the University of Florida. I was back home on Hilton Head Island auditioning with the hope of landing a part in another summer theater production. At a callback I ran into Joanne, a girl I knew from church, and she was in the show I did the previous summer. She was nice, but we were not really friends. So, I was taken aback when she was excited to see me and invited me to lunch. This thrilled me because I did not have many girlfriends, and knew we shared an interest in the theater. But shortly into our conversation over lunch, I began to suspect she was just gauging her competition, as we often went for the same parts. We discussed recent auditions, and she said something that captured my imagination. She had been offered a paid but non-speaking role in an independent film being shot in Savannah, but she was going to turn it down. At our level, paid roles were unheard of, so I pushed her for more. Joanne told me that it was more the part of an extra, and it called for nudity. I was fascinated. I had to know more and kept her on the subject even though she was trying to move on. It was the role of a dead body. She said that they wanted her to lie out on a table as a corpse in the morgue.

I did not need to ask why nudity was a problem. Joanne and her family were members of my father’s church, and she was the very definition of a ‘good girl.’ This is also how she, and most on the island, still thought of me. So, my challenge now, convince her to help me get this part, without my parents finding out. I knew she would be shocked if I just came out and said I wanted the job. Who knows how she would react. If she would no longer want anything to do with me, I would get over that. But I couldn’t have her freak out and tell everyone.

We both dreamed of becoming professional performers. Acting was her focus, and a goal of mine, but I also loved to sing and dance. I had taken ballet since I was little. So, I leaned on our shared goals to keep her on topic. I tried to convince her that a movie would be good for the resume. I did fear that I may talk her into taking the part, but I could think of no other reason to innocently confess that I wanted to do it. I couldn’t tell her that the very idea of this was immensely erotic to me. My thoughts were swarming with the concept of lying nude in the midst of a film crew, in front of the camera, while knowing the final product is permanent and could eventually be seen by who knows how many thousands. I could barely absorb the notion before I had to close my eyes and brace myself against the waves of stimulation surging through me.

Joanne immediately rejected my suggestion that it could be good to take the role, and referred to the part as disgusting. As much as I wanted to be an actress, I am a terrible liar. Out in the real world, I always feel that I can’t hide anything, and when I try, people see right through me. Sitting there in front of her, I felt she recognized my interest, and even my titillation. It already seemed like she was trying to talk me out of it, and I hadn’t yet told her that I wanted the part. She was on to me. So, struggling for what to say next, I came out with it.

“I would do it.”, I blurted. “If you turn it down, can you tell them about me?”

She froze for a moment. As the expression on her face changed, I realized that she was not expecting me to say that. It had not occurred to her that I would want the part. She forced a little laugh, perhaps to see if I would join in and say I was joking. I gave her my most serious look. When Joanne understood that I meant it, she surprised me again. Leaning back in the booth, she grinned. Then, in a high tone, she stretched out my name.

“Don’t you think it would be exciting?”, I interrupted.

“No. Do you?!” She responded wide-eyed while looking around to see if anyone was listening.

I asked if she could get me an audition. I don’t remember her exact words, but she basically called me nasty, and this clearly amused her. My feelings were mixed. I loved those moments when people realized I was not what they assumed. But I feared what she may spread to the church and our parents. I begged her to keep it quiet as I repeated my request for an audition. She kept calling me names, like a minx and a bad girl, but she could not stop smiling. Glowing with delight, she took great joy in discovering this about me. I probably told her more than I should have about my related thoughts and feelings. Joanne’s reaction made me want to open up even more, but I realized I was already blowing her mind. I didn’t know if this is just how she responds to such a surprise, or if she has secret desires of her own and can’t bring herself to follow through. Maybe she enjoys seeing such play out in others. Eventually I came to believe that she liked to learn something potentially salacious, but more so she thought this would be bad for me, and help reduce her competition.

Joanne did help me get an audition. But then she told everyone about it.

It was a few days after our lunch that I realized Joanne was spreading the word that I was interested in being nude on film. My father woke me up and let me know we needed to have a serious talk. He was standing over my bed with a look I knew meant I was in big trouble. He expected me to get up and talk with him. But, under the covers, I was naked. My mother had caught me before. She knew I slept in the nude. But I didn’t know what she told my father. I tried to convince him to go downstairs, and I would come down soon. But he was not having it. He started in on what was bothering him. He said a man called, claiming to be a filmmaker, and asked to talk to me about some work. Normally my father would have just called me to the phone, but a friend (Joanne’s father) had earlier warned him that I was planning to appear in a dirty movie, so my father told the man on the phone that I wasn’t interested.

I was angry at Joanne, but also my father. I told him that it was not a dirty movie, but the part of a dead body in a crime drama. This didn’t improve his thoughts about the work. I think he was embarrassed. When first told about my plans, he didn’t believe Joanne’s father. He defended me. And when the producer called, my father was disappointed with me, but also felt he owed his friend an apology.

My father was one to lecture. I knew it would be a long day. Again, he demanded that I get up. But I knew this was not the time for him to learn I was naked. I could not get out of bed. So, I refused, and again insisted that he go downstairs. This put him in a state I have rarely seen.
Once, when I was out after curfew, he caught me fooling around on the beach, and literally dragged me off a boy. But he seemed angrier now.
Although I was clutching the covers with all my strength, he pulled them away. Now he was even more embarrassed, discovering why I did not want to get up. And seeing that I was nude added to his concerns about my behavior. It had only been a few years since he had me in counseling for my excessive masturbating. He was very concerned for me. I knew there was no way I could now convince him to let me take part in the film.

I got up and retrieved a sheet from the floor. Wrapping it around me, I sat on the side of my bed and cried while listening to his seemingly endless lecture. I told my father I would not pursue any parts like this, although I don’t think he believed me. Understandable… I was lying.

No matter how my father felt, I was dead set on getting this role. But I couldn’t just keep it from him, as was my original plan. Now, I had to lie. Even after my most sincere attempts to reassure him that things were not as bad as he feared, and my insincere promises that I would not take part in the film, he was still cold to me for weeks. Then things got much worse.

The day my father first harangued me about the “dirty movie,” as he called it, I secretly went through his desk, and the trash, hoping to find the producer’s number. No luck. I then dialed *69, which in those days was a way to call the last incoming number. This too did not work. So, I was forced to confront Joanne.

I am non-confrontational. It was very difficult for me to deal with Joanne, because I was angry. In my room, I stared into the mirror for a long time, repeatedly practicing my opening line to her, “You bitch!” But I didn't know what to say next. I stopped this when I heard my parents in the hallway. They must have thought I was beating myself up about my fall from grace. But I also knew I could not be honest with Joanne any more than I could with my father. I needed to be nice to her to get the producer’s number.

I waited until Sunday when I knew I would see Joanne at church. My father was busy as usual, which gave me time to corner Joanne. I pretended nothing was wrong. I told her the producer had called but I didn’t get his number and needed to call him back to turn down the role. She seemed disappointed. I think she wanted me to do it and get in trouble. I told her I still wanted the part, but couldn’t take it, because somehow my father found out. She played dumb and called me that night to give me the number.

The next day I called the producer. Not knowing what exactly my father had said to him, I feared what he may think. I was prepared with a whole story to convince him to consider me. But as soon as I told him who I was, he asked if I could come down to Savannah to meet with him. I was thrilled, and agreed to go, but now had to figure out how to get to Savannah. It was about an hour from my house, and I didn’t have a car. I would usually ask to borrow my father’s, but that seemed risky. He was skeptical of my intentions already, and if he found out what I was up to, all would be ruined. So, I turned to an old friend.

Michael was a nice boy who had a crush on me through our high school years. I did not know what he thought about me now. A few summers ago, I was determined to lose my virginity, so I took Michael into the woods near our school and seduced him. I chose Michael not only because I knew he had a crush on me, but he had also caught me in a compromising situation with a vacuum cleaner, and he kept that to himself. I felt I could trust him. (The vacuum cleaner / seduction episode is detailed in my post, ‘A Stop in Nevada’.) My aggressive efforts to have sex with Michael in the woods was an awkward encounter, and I think I scared him. We didn’t see each other much after that. But I knew a few things about his situation now. He had gone out of state to a different college; he was also home for the summer; and he had a car.

When I called Michael, I was prepared to joke and ask if he wanted to go for a walk in the woods, but I chickened out as his mother called him to the phone. I was honest and told him I had an audition in Savannah and needed a ride, or to borrow his car. At first, he seemed put off. So, I innocently offered, “I’ll make it worth your while.” But I immediately realized how that could be inferred. I meant I would fill up his gas tank and buy him lunch or something. Before I could explain, he agreed to drive me. I could hear in his voice that he thought this could be interesting. I guess after a couple of years in college, he was more open to what adventures I might bring.

The day of the audition, I wore a breezy sundress and thought it was best to not wear underwear. I expected they would want to see me naked, as I would be so in the film, and I didn’t want the unsightly marks of undergarments. I also thought this would help me convince them that nudity was not a problem for me. So, as I imagined myself in the audition, pulling off my dress with nothing underneath would suggest a certain level of comfort and freedom with my body.

I didn’t want Michael to pick me up at my house for fear of having to explain to my father, so I walked to Michael’s house. As I cut across the golf course between our neighborhoods, with nothing on under my dainty sundress, I became enlivened. It was not only my current condition, but also the anticipation of my nude audition, for who knows how many strangers, and the long drive with the first boy I took into the woods – and to whom I had just promised to, “… make it worth your while.” It was all very stimulating.

I found Michael to be surprisingly different. He had grown from a cute boy to a handsome man. Tall, tan, and slender, he carried himself with more confidence now. Although he was still quiet, and difficult to engage. As we set off for Savannah in his convertible Karmann Ghia, I had to work to keep the conversation going so to avoid the awkward silence. Not that it was quiet exactly. The top was down. We had to speak loudly to compete with the wind and motor. But when more than a few seconds passed with no talking, I grew uncomfortable. I feared he was thinking of the woods, or worse… the vacuum. So, to keep his thoughts elsewhere, I asked about college, his family, and anything else I could think of, but he gave short answers without much elaboration. For this, and my approaching audition, I was feeling anxious.

My mind kept coming back to the audition, but I thought best not to detail that for Michael. I would have done better to come up with topics if I wasn’t so distracted by his large hands and powerful forearms as he shifted gears and handled the car down the backroads to Savannah. I began to daydreaming of him handling me with such strong confidence and skill.

I had put my hair back in a ponytail to keep it under control in the wind, which was also aggressively working the light material of my dress. With no bra or panties, I kept adjusting myself, struggling to keep everything in place. But it was all becoming too much for me; Michael, the vibrations from the engine, the nature of the audition, the wind compromising my postured modesty… so, I just surrendered. I sat back, let go, and let my dress and the truth flail.

“I’m not wearing panties.”, I shouted over all the noise. Michael glanced at me with eyebrows raised but looked back to the road without comment.

“Because I have to get naked for my audition. I’d be playing a dead girl in the morgue.”, I explained. He nodded but said nothing. I was aware that my flirty nature had taken over, but I went with it. I was experiencing a wonderful sense of relief for what I had just revealed to him.

“What did you think I meant when I said I would make it worth your while?”, I asked.

“I thought it meant you would make it worth my while.” He smiled at me. I hesitated, so he continued. “What did you mean?”

“I don’t know. Pay for the gas, buy you lunch, suck your dick?”, I joked. But when his expression didn’t change, I realized this may be exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m joking.”, I confessed.

“No, you’re not.”, He accused.

“Yes, I am. I was totally joking.”, I strongly insisted. He shook his head, seemingly annoyed. I didn’t know if he thought less of me for being so forward, or for recanting. This time I stayed quiet, hoping he would say something else. But after a short while, I couldn’t help it.

“I was joking… about the one thing. But I really am not wearing panties.”, I said, continuing to test him. He looked over at me with a stern expression.

“Prove it.”, He challenged.

I lifted my dress from my lap using it to cover my head. I thought this would be cute, and it probably was, but I missed his reaction. When I dropped the dress back onto my lap, he was already looking back to the road. I could see he was trying to suppress a smile. I laughed embarrassingly loud and pulled my dress up again and held it to my face. I felt better as he joined me in laughter.

“So, were you joking?”, he asked sincerely.

“My God, yes! I was joking!”, I shouted, but in a joyous way. Nevertheless, he was disappointed.
I did initially say it as a joke, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. In fact, by this point, I wanted to. I wanted to do more. I was very pleasantly surprised by this new manlier Michael. So, I decided to keep him on the hook.

“You got a girlfriend?”, I teased.

I was thrown forward in the seat as he hit the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road. Startled, my first reaction was anger. But before I could say anything, I saw the look on his face.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. “What do you think I am thinking?!”

I realized I had taken it too far. Considering what I put him through the last time we saw each other, and how I had treated him today, I was foolish to not be sure what he expected. I needed to break the tension. This stretch of road was lined with nothing but trees, and I couldn’t resist the reference. I turned toward him with my most coquettish posture and expression, pointed over my shoulder to the tree line, and sheepishly delivered my retort.

“Well, you can’t expect a girl to just do it out here in the woods.”

As I had hoped, his grimace turned into a smile. But only for a moment. He put the car in gear, and we continued toward Savannah. I knew he still wanted clarity, which I offered, but in a somewhat frustrating manner.

“Just get me to my audition, and I’ll make it worth your while.”, I promised.

Following the directions that the producer gave me, Michael found parking at the curb not far from the address. I let down my hair and fixed it as best I could while noticing this was a neighborhood, not a studio or office as I expected. But it was a street of older houses, many of which had been turned into businesses. When the producer answered the door, I realized it was his home – or what he was presenting as his home. It was a nice place, but something didn’t seem right. I began to regret not asking Michael to come in with me as I sat with the producer at his dining room table. We talked about the movie, what my role would be, and how much it paid. I expected to audition, but this felt like he was trying to convince me to do it. He explained that the scene would take only one day to shoot, but it would be a long day. And he said that I would be naked.

Although I was thrown by the audition not being what I expected, I grew comfortable as we spoke, and confirmed I wanted the part. When he told me the job was mine, I was thrilled, but a bit distracted. It seemed he was not going to ask me to undress.

From my ride with Michael and anticipating the audition, I had really worked myself up, and now heard the voice in my head asking, “You want to see me naked?”, as I imagined removing my dress while he walked me to the door. I couldn’t think of a way to suggest without sounding ridiculous. So, when we got to his foyer, I asked, “Is there anything about her body that matters? Scars or tattoos, or… I don’t know, anything?” He told me not to worry, that the makeup department would take care of everything. I think by my expression he realized I had not considered that a department of makeup people would be working on my naked body. He asked if that would be okay. I sounded too excited when I answered, “No problem.”

By the time I got back to the car, I was floating. I got the job, and it was going to be even better than I had dreamed. I knew my excitement was obvious when Michael saw me and said, “I guess it went well.”

Driving back to the island, I told him about my discussion with the producer. I wanted to tell Michael that I was disappointed the man didn’t ask to see me naked. But I wasn’t sure what he would think about that. I asked if he wanted to stop to get something to eat. He told me I didn’t have to do that. Meaning I didn’t have to repay him with lunch. I knew it was time to address how I would repay him. As we drove along, I started to look for a good place to pull over. We both still lived with our parents, so going home was not an option. When I saw a closed business with parking in the back, I told him to pull in. He questioned why, but on his own realized what I was suggesting. He kept driving and said that I did not have to do that either. I told him I wanted to. He ignored me.

The whole day was like foreplay to me. Michael, the car, the wind, my dress, the teasing and seduction were all very exciting and even romantic to me. And what wasn’t romantic was excitingly lascivious - the lying and sneaking, the audition, the make-up artists, and the nude scene. I truly had had enough. I insisted that Michael find a place to stop. But he refused. I reached over and put my hand on his leg. He looked down but didn’t otherwise react. So, I started for his zipper. He grabbed my hand and held it against his leg, not allowing me to continue. Regardless of his reluctance, his countenance revealed delight for my efforts. Then, while still in his grip, he started caressing my hand.

I knew he didn’t want me to feel obligated, but somehow I wasn’t doing enough to show I wanted this to happen. We were on a quiet two-lane road, lined mostly with trees. Deciding to go for it, I submitted to my next impulse. I forced my hand free, pulled off my dress, held it over my head in the wind, and let out a joyous squeal. That really got Michael’s attention. In fact, he freaked out. I didn’t let up. I shouted for him to pull over, threatening to let the dress go if he didn’t. The wind was stronger than I thought. Fighting to keep my grip, I again ordered him to pull over, but he kept driving and accused me of being insane. With the dress violently whipping in the wind, I told him this was his last warning to pull over, but he didn’t believe me, so I let the wind take my dress.

“Now you have to pull over!”, I shouted. He struggled to keep the car on the road while watching the dress fly away. Michael was completely shocked, and I was influenced by his reaction. It was fun and exciting, but I was partially convinced that he was right, and I was crazy. I could hardly believe what I was doing. For a short moment I was unsettled and covered up with my arms as we passed some oncoming cars. Then my courage would rise again, and I would throw my arms over my head with joy. As I teetered between these emotions, I pictured riding home like this. If he didn’t turn around for my dress, what would I do? I wanted him to turn around, and I wanted him to just keep going. Michael spun the car around and drove back for my dress. He pulled over across the road from where it landed, and he jumped out as I jokingly offered to get it myself. A couple of cars passed while he fetched my dress. I was low enough in the car that I don’t think anyone really saw much, but Michael could not have been more embarrassed. He threw the dress at me and got the car back on the road toward the island. At this point, he was more amused than angry, but he suggested I get dressed. I held my dress in my lap, but refusing to give up, I told him I would not put it on until after.

We found ourselves parked on a dirt road, still in view of the main road, but far enough away to feel safe. We made out for a bit before he sat in the passenger seat, and I climbed onto his lap, facing him and the main road. Looking into his eyes, I told him that I knew he had a crush on me in high school, then I slid him inside me. It was exceedingly erotic to make love to Michael in his car with the top down and the hot summer sun on my body as I watched the passing cars, wondering what they think they see.

Someone with the production was going to call me when the shooting schedule was finalized. So, I spent the next few days making sure I got to the phone before anyone else. But when the call finally came, I was out to dinner with my parents. I did not expect the call to come at night. So, my father got to the answering machine first.

As I saw it, I was 21 years old, so I could do as I wanted. As my father saw it, I lived in his house and attended a university on his dollar. My summer was over. He restricted me to the house. The scene was to be shot the following week. But my father called them back and told them I was off the project.

The next day, when my father was out of the house for a while, I called the producer and promised I would be there. With my parents, I pretended to have given up on the film. But nothing was going to keep me from doing it.

My father was all over me that week. If I moved around the house, he came to check on me. If I made a phone call, he was listening. If I shut my door, he would open it. He would check on me in the middle of the night, and first thing in the morning. He gave me no privacy. I continued to sleep nude, somewhat in protest, but also just to make him uncomfortable.

When the day arrived, I snuck out of the house hours before the sun came up. I had to be at the set very early anyway. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my father discovered that I was missing, along with his car. And he would know what I was doing. But he would have no idea where we were filming. I was willing to deal with the consequences later. I knew he would not kick me out of the house or stop paying for college. He would just have to accept me and what I wanted.

I made my way to the set in Savannah, which was in an old school that was no longer operating. For the movie, they had a room made up like the morgue. The first person I met was a very cute girl, about my age, named Kit. She was the assistant director. I was told she was my main contact and would guide me through the day. Kit first took me to the makeup department, which was in an old classroom. So, this is where my day, and the fun, began. The head of the department was a nice older woman named Helen. She had two assistants. A man and a woman, neither much older than me. After introductions, I was told that the makeup would take several hours. They had a small room for me to change, and a robe I could wear when we were not working. So, I changed into the robe and waited on the padded table they had prepared. Eventually, Helen took my robe and asked me to lie back on the table. I was more nervous than I had expected. I think because of how serious they were. It was intimidating, and I didn’t want to mess up.

So far, this was not as exciting as I wanted. It felt more like a visit to the doctor. All three of them were very polite. They would tell me what they were going to do to me before following through. Frankly, I would have been more comfortable if we were joking around, but I sensed they were being careful to keep things serious and professional. It was strange to have three people touching and considering me all over. I appreciated how amazing this felt, but I became more interested in what this was like for them. As time went by, I relaxed, and began asking questions. I asked if they had ever done full body makeup on someone before. Helen misunderstood and told me I would be the only body in the morgue. This I already knew. I didn’t have the script, but I had been briefed on the scene. There would be four other actors: two detectives, the coroner, and his assistant. So, I asked about them. But the makeup team didn’t know much, only that I was a girl who had been beaten to death. So, my makeup was brutal. I was not expecting this. I knew I would be dead, but when I pictured myself laid out on display, I was beautiful. I saw what they were doing with the makeup and realized I would be a gross and disturbing sight. This was incredibly disappointing to me. But as I closed my eyes and let them work, I became immersed in the sensations of their endless touching and attention. I understood this was not going to be what I expected, but it was still going to be a dream-like experience for me.

Helen was always very good about covering me with a towel, when possible, or giving me my robe if we were taking a break. Although, I assured her I was not very modest, and she didn’t need to worry so much. But besides her helpers, Kit was the only person Helen would let in the room while I was uncovered. Occasionally Kit would come in to check on me, ask questions, and she had me sign a release. She was distractingly beautiful - the kind of beauty that just hits you physically. Made up as I was, I felt ridiculous while she stood over me. But I was quite turned on by having regular conversations with her while lying there naked, receiving all this attention.

I must admit, Helen and the team did an amazing job. Not how I wanted to look, but my makeup was impressive. It did appear as though I had been beaten to death. After the makeup was done, I still had to wait around a while before they were ready to shoot. Eventually, I was led to the set. I could not believe how much crew it took for just one scene. And this was a fairly low budget production. There were multiple people in most departments: camera, lighting, audio, make-up, wardrobe, props, actors, script people, the producer, director, assistant director, and quite a few that I never learned what they did. My heart was racing as I waited to be told to drop my robe. And not just the first time. This went on all day.

Helen stayed with me a lot of the time. She had to touch up my makeup whenever I removed the robe. When it was time for a shot, the whole crew knew the robe was coming off. Most of them would pretend not watch while Helen touched me up, and I got in position.

The worst part of my job was that I had to lay on a stainless-steel table with no pad. It was freezing cold. I already knew I had to hold my breath as much as possible during the scene, but I could not control my shivering. The crew scrambled for solutions. They had no heater, but the lights were hot. Eventually, they put a big light under the table until it was time to film. For me, the table was always too cold or too hot. Most people were hesitant with me. I think they had been told to give me some space, and not make the naked girl uncomfortable. But I made such a scene of my problems that I ended up interacting with much of the crew. They must have thought that I was a real problem as so many people were engaged in helping me. But I was doing my best. Of course, I loved all the attention. I felt so important.

Kit was my guardian, and keeper of the robe. She brough it to me every moment we weren’t shooting. But after a while, I stopped using it. My excuse was that it took too long to fix my makeup. There was some truth to that, but more I was enjoying this dream scenario of being naked in the middle of a room full of people, under the lights, in front of the camera, while all prepared for the next shot. The table was so uncomfortable that, when they would let me, I would sit up or stand between takes. Usually, I would chat with the actors or others while watching the crew work. Kit was busy with a lot more than just me, but the moments I could talk with her were some of the best of an already incredible day. She was so adorable. I was swooning.

Although they were after different shots, my job was the same each time. I was to lie still and hold my breath while the detectives questioned the coroner as he inspected me. I could tell it was not a good movie. This was a long scene with too much dialog for what was revealed. And the actors were not very good. I suspected their auditions were as brief as mine. Most of the crew were professional toward me, but the actors were another story. Although, I enjoyed them. They were distracted by me, and sometimes blatantly ogling. They would flirt and joke with me until Kit would stop them. For these, and other distractions I think I caused, we were very delayed. We had to stay late and still did not finish.

As much as I wanted this experience to never end, I was terrified when I heard them talking about coming back tomorrow. No doubt my father knew what I had done and was waiting for me. I had been expecting to drive home for a tub staining shower and a world-class lecture, if not worse. But then this new problem. If I went home, I seriously doubted I could come back. My thoughts were filled with wild solutions. Perhaps they would let me sleep at the school? I could even stay in makeup. Hanging out all night alone and naked in an abandoned school was a new and interesting idea for me. And it was not as frightening as the thought of going home to my father. But that exciting idea quickly gave way to a better one. Maybe I could stay with Kit?

I was lying on the table, holding my breath, processing these fantastic solutions to my problem, while the crew worked to finish one last shot for the night. Then a very real solution presented itself - in the worst possible way.

Everyone turned their attention to a commotion at the door. I sat up but could not see past the lights. It sounded like an argument between Kit, and to my horror, I recognized the voice of my father.

I wish I could report that I was strong and boldly confronted him. But that is not what happened. I briefly panicked and thought to run. But my father was at the only exit. Realizing I was sitting under the lights with nowhere to hide and no idea where Kit had put the robe, I deflated. I knew it was over. Feeling completely defeated and embarrassed, I just covered my face and cried. The next few minutes seemed like forever, as everyone discovered what was happening. They convinced my father to go back outside. Kit brought me the robe and tried to console me. I told her I was 21 years old, and he had no right to be here. She was sympathetic, but suggested it was best I go home.

My father drove me home in his car without speaking a word to me. I had no idea how he found me or how he got to the school. I didn’t ask. I wasn’t speaking to him either. I just sat there, still in the robe, with my dress and purse in a trash bag on my lap, trying not to cry.

This was as bad as it ever was between my father and me. He was so mad; he couldn’t even lecture me. I knew I was done with the movie. In part for my father’s wishes, in part for my extreme embarrassment, I didn’t even reach out to them to get paid.

Mostly for lack of trust from my father, this did cause difficulty for my acting work. I guess Joanne got what she wanted. What I regret most now is that I never saw the movie or know for sure if it was ever released. The working title was something like Law and Disorder. I understood they were intending to enter some film festivals. But I don’t know what happened. I have since searched online for it, but no luck. As disturbing as I looked in the makeup, I would love to see the movie today. More so, I wish I could see behind the scenes. It was an amazing adventure, but not my last movie, or full body makeup experience. Eventually, I even got my nude audition – a story for another time.
-


As I like to help the reader truly picture the story…

Pictures:

1: A photo taken during my junior year, just prior to the summer of this story.

2: Another photo from around this time. I remember this shirt. I made it myself. It reads: “Tom Selleck Eats Quiche, and I Don’t Care” (Derived from an 80’s saying.)

3: I don’t have a picture of the car, but I found this one that is much like Michael’s Karmann Ghia.