Read Lucky Stars for Free Online

not sure I’m the one to ask about the right fragrance. I’ve just been standing here trying different ones, spraying on a little of this, a little of that, to see what smells good on me. No, I guess I don’t mind.” I held up my wrist so he could sniff it. “You think your wife will like—”
    “Stop stop stop,” barked Gerald, waving his arms in the air. “I can’t listen to another word of that crap.”
    I froze, my arms at my sides.
    “You’re much too frightened to connect with the primitive sexuality needed here,” he went on. ‘Too inhibited. Have you ever actually had a man come on to you, Susan?”
    “It’s Stacey,” I said, trying not to dissolve into tears and/or vomit “And the answer’s yes.” Just not in a long ti me, unless you counted Ethan, th e hairdresser, and we had come on to each other.
    “I don’t believe you. You move as if you’ve been in a nunnery all your life.”
    “But that’s not true. I studied movement when I was—”
    “Excuse me. Are you the acting coach or am I?”
    “You are, but I don’t understand why you’re—”
    “Why I’m what? Trying to put you in touch with your issues? Trying to strip you down to your basic shell? Trying to undo all the bad habits you’ve picked up during your stab at acting?”
    My stab at acting. I’d done more than stab at it. I’d thrown myself at it. And my efforts had paid off. I’d gotten a part in a feature film, and if it weren’t for Jack Rawlins I’d be getting parts in other feature films.
    “Here’s my guess, Sally,” said Gerald.
    “It’s Stacey,” I said.
    “Someone down the line told you not to overact, so you’ve pulled inward, crawled inside yourself. Am I right?”
    Yikes. Had he seen Rawlins’s review, too? “I suppose that could have happened,” I acknowledged. “Down the line, I mean.”
    “Okay. So here’s your way out of the problem. You’re going to put yourself in contact with your body.”
    “Oh, you mean I should stand differently when I talk to the man at the perfume counter?”
    “No. I mean you should start moving your hips in a circle.”
    “Move my hips?”
    “Yeah, and lead with your pelvis. Now! Do it!”
    I took a huge gulp of air and, in front of a roomful of strangers, I began rotating my hips in a circle. I felt like a kid playing with a Hula-Hoop.
    “Now touch your breasts and your ass,” he commanded. “Really connect with your sexuality.”
    Touch my breasts and my ass? How about connecting with this, I wanted to tell the twisted jerk. I decided then and there that I was not interested in starring in Gerald Clarke’s peep show. Maybe I was uptight. Maybe I was self-conscious. Maybe I was out of touch with my sexuality, but I had my standards of conduct and they didn’t include prostituting myself for my art .
    While I stood there not touching myself, Gerald looked at the group and said with an exasperated sigh, “Obviously, Samantha doesn’t want to work on her is sues. Anyone else want to try th e exercise? Volunteers, please?”
    Naturally, the vixen raised her hand.
    “Ah, good,” said Gerald. “Your name?”
    “Brittany Madison,” she said as she sashayed onto the stage, planting herself next to me. She was a very big girl. It was like standing next to Mt. Rushmore.
    “Okay, Brittany. Now why don’t you show us how it looks to connect with your sexuality. Rotate your hips in a circle, leading with the pelvis.”
    Brittany complied willingly.
    “Now touch your breasts and your buttocks and let all your inhibitions go. Do what feels good to you, what feels fun to you.”
    I continued to stand there, dripping with flop sweat. It was a toss-up which made me more uncomfortable: failing Gerald’s test or having to witness someone else pass it.
    “This is wonderful,” cooed Brittany, who was now sliding her hands down her body, swaying from side to side, licking her lips.
    “You see this, class?” Gerald exclaimed. “Brittany is connecting with her