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“Why?”
I sensed the tension in his right hand as though he’d slapped my face; and the skin on my cheek started to tingle as though he had. I knew what he was going to do. But why?
“Get the chair,” he circumvented my question with the order and so I scampered to obey.
A few moments later, I was over his lap, my skirt raised above my ass and my bottom being spanked while his actors looked on, dumbfounded.
I kept my feelings to myself, grunting softly as though it was a matter of pride to keep my agony a mystery. Body and brain still perplexed, I lived through the humiliating scene, clenching and flexing the muscles in my ass as his hand repeatedly hit the skin. The warmth turned quickly into a burn. He kept on, while I realized that his palm must be starting to ache. (I often wondered if KC had any feeling in his hand at all, the way he could go on so long striking bare skin.)
“Jeez, KC,” I finally seethed as my groin wiggled on his lap. He was making me hot, sexually hot. The two pairs of eyes witnessing the travesty only turned my burner higher.
“Hush!” the quiet word seemed to snap in the air like the sound of leather hitting skin. There was something guttural in the delivery that scared me more. How long would he go on? If this was supposed to be sexual, then I must be turning him on, so I tried to make my struggle appear erotic. That worked for a time, but he was concentrating his smacks on the centers of my ass cheeks, focusing the burn on just two places. They were scorched and not feeling erotic at all. Even moving about didn’t change his target. Then, with a shocking abruptness, he stopped and pushed me to my feet, “In my office, now!” he commanded. I looked at him with my expression undeniably confused, but he wouldn’t acknowledge that. “Don’t waste my time!” he barked.
I took off, hustling to the black painted door at the side of the room. Just because I was so damned curious, I left the door open a crack so I could listen to what took place afterwards.
“You feel the fire?” He asked his company. By then, there were three more actors—all of whom I was acquainted with—joining the dazed pair who were there at the start.
The question was only rhetorical. KC waltzed about in front of them, launching into a lecture about power and intensity. “Did you feel the breathing, the verve, the animation? How alive? How thrilled? She loved every second of that scene and so did I. There was not a moment when we were not tearing at each other with a passionate fire—even as confused as she was. It was spontaneously bursting through her.
“She’s still here,” through the crack in the door I could see him point my way, and I shrunk back feeling as though in a second they’d be staring at me again. “On the other side of that door, she’s thoroughly focused on understanding what I just did to her. She’s embarrassed, feeling harassed, scared, angry… it’s all there. But there is not one hackneyed emotion rising. All her responses are rich and vivacious. Utterly alive! Don’t let your lives or your work falter in the mundane and commonplace. Don’t turn yourselves into cliché’s. Seize upon yourselves and the fire that drives you. If you can’t find the fire, then you don’t belong here. We don’t need the theatre to demonstrate a sluggish world—that world is all around us, everywhere we turn… lifeless, unfeeling boorish thugs populating this planet for no damned reason at all… Get honest, people. Find your guts, your pluck, your daring. Don’t ever come into my theatre listless. You’ll be out on your oafish asses.”
He stopped, turned in a circle to eye them all. “Now rehearse the scenes again and let me see what you can do.” He strode off.
KC pushed the office door wide then closed it behind him, closing them out as we heard the actors scuffle about trying to restore enough poise to recite their lines—with the passion KC demanded.
He’d pretty much named the pertinent emotions rising in my stunned gut. I wasn’t sure which to settle on when we were finally face to face again.
“Why did you do that?” I finally said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he answered as though he were annoyed that this was all I could think to say.
“You turn me into an object lesson?” Yep, it was anger surfacing.
He smiled. “You needed a good, off-the-wall punishment, Gail. We’ve been sailing through these sweet waters too long.”
“I was rather enjoying the way our relationship was headed.”
“Except that it denies what really gets your juices flowing.”
“My juices have been flowing rather well,” I reminded him.
“Maybe.”
“No maybe!” I jumped from my chair.
“Gonna attack me.”
My fists were clenched.
“I should.”
“And what would you do?”
“You want feelings? I should slap your face.”
“Try it,” he baited me.
The desire was real, I could already feel my palm connected with his face, the surface even tingled as though it just had.
