Practice Scene

A pouty princess plotting her appropriation of her career
Print by Alphonse Mucha

Just a scene I wrote this morning for an exercise using Debra Dixon’s Goal, Motivation and Conflict exercise:

“I think we should cancel half the tour stops in these Podunk villages,” Viridian said, wrapping herself in the green dressing gown of heavy silk that made her feel safe and powerful. “I didn’t make enough last night to pay for cleaning my gown.”

“Don’t worry about that,” her agent,Dick Stanley, said, grinning in his plaid suit and bowler hat. “You have others, and there’s no reason to wear the best every night. As you say, Podunk doesn’t know the difference. ”

She took down her hair, brushing out the black tresses  with an air of unconcern.  “I’m wasting my talents on them. I need to be in best form for Chicago, not exhausted.”

The agent laughed. “You need to build your reputation in these one-nighters, so the folks in Chicago will have heard of you. I need the clippings to send to the promoters. You let me worry about that, and you just sing your little heart out.”

“It’s my heart that keeps you in business.” She put her brush away and stood facing the agent.  “What’s mine is mine,” Viridian said, with a serpent smile that did not reach her green eyes. “what’s yours is…” She stroked his engorged member then dug in her nails. “Up for grabs.”

His slap caught her by surprise—he was more of a thug than she thought.

“You signed a contract,” he said, his voice not betraying the pain he must feel, “so that means yours is mine, at least until we get to Chicago.”

She stared him down, her cheek stinging. He had not hit her very hard, certainly not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to show her how much she’d misjudged him.  She released his balls.

“I shall fulfill my contract, but then I will take you and everything you have.”  She dropped her hand to her side, refusing to touch her burning cheek.

“Don’t threaten me, little girl.” He chuckled. He lifted her chin with a finger.

She did not flinch from his touch. He was her ticket to the venues in Chicago, and if sex didn’t work on him, something else would. Every man had a weakness, even if it was only dependence on force and fraud. That she knew how to deal with.