Innocence Defiled

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Screen Test

Violet had never been in a house so grand, in a neighborhood so lavish, in a company as fine as the one she discovered when she stepped in the door of Lionel Rains’ sprawling Spanish style mansion in Beverly Hills. She clearly felt out of place. Even the taxi driver had given her an odd look when he saw the address on the slip of paper she handed him, as if he wasn’t certain his old beat-up taxi would be welcome on streets where Rolls and Cadillacs and shiny black Packards were parked in front of every posh estate.

“Hope you know what you’re doing,” he said with a grim shake of his head when he let her out at the top of the circular drive.

“Oh, I’m sure I do,” she said with practiced confidence, even though on the inside she felt all tingly and weak. She wore her one nice dress, a pretty print she’d purchased in LA with tip money, and a blue cloche hat—not quite the current Hollywood style, but still very pretty. Her brown coat was plain and her shoes more practical than stylish, but they would have to do since they were all she had. Her long blonde hair was neatly pinned back in a bun at the base of her neck. She worried that she should have worn it loose.

At Lionel Rains front door, she was greeted by a maid dressed in a black uniform with a starched white apron, who for sixty seconds made her feel like royalty, even if she were dressed like a pauper. The woman’s kind eyes graciously welcomed her inside, but once she dismissed herself to fetch Mr. Rains, Violet was left alone with her nerves and her knocking knees and the tremendous fear in her belly that had turned into an enormous knot. For a few minutes, her eyes were diverted by the sights before her: the smooth Spanish tiled floor, enormous tapestries reaching two floors high, and just to her right, a curved staircase with its ornate wrought iron railing. Enormous palm trees flanked tall double doors leading to a lighted patio, while a dangling chandelier lit the air with a warm almost erotic glow. There were glass lamps and brocade chairs, a heavy mahogany étagère, and in the air, the scent of perfume and smoke, along with the lilt of feminine laughter and the guffaws of laughing men coming from a room nearby.

Lionel Rains abruptly interrupted her examination of the room, moving briskly into the foyer through large double doors and directly to Violet’s side. “Ah, Miss Atherton, I see your driver found the place with no problem. Let me introduce you around. He drew her to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist, then led her into another luxurious room with more sights to see.

The evening sounded more like a cocktail party than what she pictured as a screen test. But who was she to know what happened at a screen test? Inside the enormous living room the garish excesses of wealth continued, and so too her reservations about her purpose there. More glass lamps, fringed settees, tapestries and now beautiful women, in lavish clothes it would take a lifetime to afford, made Violet even more uneasy and a bit envious as well. She should have bought a new dress… fixed her hair more fashionably… worn a little make up… What confidence she’d once displayed seemed to diminish by degrees with every passing moment. The aromas of Cuban cigars and fine liquor made her feel dizzy, and all the glitz made Violet question her right to even be there.

As soon as she entered the room all eyes zeroed in on her and she instinctively drew closer to the director, even though she had a strong desire to run off and never look back.

“This is Miss Violet Atherton,” Lionel announced to his guests. There seemed to be dozens of people closing in on her, a whole swarm of the beautifully decked-out rich—although if she actually stopped to count, she would have found only ten guests in that glamorous living room to witness her embarrassment, hardly the enormous crowd that burgeoned in her imagination.

“Oh, what a pretty little victim for your nefarious pursuits!” a buxom blonde in a champagne colored dress was the first to comment. She sashayed forward for a better look, and with her droopy bedroom eyes gave the impression that she expected something from Violet—although Violet had no idea why she felt that way, or what that something might be. Though the comment took her by surprise, she hid her discomfort with a polite smile.

“The girl’s hardly a victim at all,” Lionel suddenly jumped into the awkward moment to correct the woman, “she’s on her way to Hollywood stardom, aren’t you, doll?” He turned toward Violet with a reassuring smile, not actually warranted, but certainly welcome at that thorny moment.

“Her first screen test, eh?” came from a portly man with a bulbous nose, who had clinging to his arm a lanky brunette with one of the prettiest faces Violet had ever seen. A pale complexion like the finest porcelain…glittering brown eyes…plump sensuous lips painted a candy-apple red—all inviting the admiring eye to feast on the possibilities—not that Violet Atherton actually understood why she was so taken with this particular female. At the moment, she was simply stunned, intimidated by such a breathtaking example of femininity.

“Yes, her first screen test, an exciting moment for a young actress,” Lionel went on, and a furtive titter of excitement seemed to sweep the room. “How about a drink?” he asked her. He dropped his arm from her waist and moved purposefully toward the bar where a tuxedo-clad butler was mixing drinks.

Violet stepped forward, flustered by the question. “Yeah, sure, Mister Rains.”

“And what will you have?” he said. He sidled up beside a dark-haired female who was languidly sipping a martini.

Violet had never had a drink in her life and didn’t know how to reply. “Oh, I’ll have whatever everyone else is drinking,” she at last spit out.

The comment produced a dark laugh from the director. “How about champagne?” he suggested.

“That would be grand, Mister Rains.”

Glad to have that awkward moment taken care of, Violet waited for the goblet to appear in her hand. Her first sips of the bubbly liquid almost made her sneeze, but thankfully, most of the others in the room had turned their attention elsewhere and her nervous jitters were not observed.

“How about you get settled here,” Lionel said. Taking her by the hand, he escorted her to a burgundy brocade settee where she sat down. “Marvin’s setting up the scene right now,” he nodded to the far side of the room. He started to walk away then abruptly turned back. “Oh, and this…” He fished a paper from his coat pocket and handed it to Violet along with his gold pen. “You need to sign this… just a formality… standard release of the material that’s being filmed tonight. Just sign the bottom.”

“Shouldn’t I read it first?”

“If you like.”

Violet started through the document and quickly gave up trying to understand the legal jargon. “I’m sure it’s fine.” She scribbled her name on the dotted line and handed it back.

“Perfect, he said and he walked away.

From where she sat, Violet could see some fifteen feet away a man in shirt sleeves fooling with cords and a movie camera, which was aimed toward the corner of the room where a bedroom scene had been created. The set looked like a motel room, or perhaps a lady’s walk-up flat, nothing fancy like the lavish room that surrounded it. The bed was covered with a pink spread, and beside it the bedside lampshade was fringed in dark crimson. The walls, Violet discovered, were fake set pieces, which had been papered with a rose design of tiny pink flowers. In one of the fake walls, a fake window had been installed, and behind that was a slow-blinking red light that mimicked the fancy neon that was popping up all around the city. With it plugged in and turned on, the entire living room pulsed intermittently with a rather eerie glow.

Violet stared so long at the curious scene, sipping champagne that she failed to realize that Lionel had returned to her side.

“Violet. Violet.” He finally shook her shoulder lightly.

She came to her senses and immediately jumped up, knees shaking so badly that they almost buckled beneath her. A bit of champagne spilled from her half-filled glass and Lionel had to catch her to keep her from falling down. But instead of letting her fall into his arms, he pushed her back to the settee and moved down on one knee before her, speaking confidentially.

“Nervous, are we?”

“A little, but I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him while she assured herself.

“I know you will be,” he said. His dark eyes stared at her so intently they seemed to drive right to her soul. Then, with a touch so gentle that she was warmed by its tenderness, he carefully plucked the hat from her head and reaching behind her head undid the pins that held her hair in place. She gave her head a shake to loosen the blonde tresses, then they settled back against her shoulders, shining in the lustrous light. Again, with the same tenderness he might employ with a young child, Lionel smoothed the lovely locks with his hand as he began describing the scene she was to perform for him that night. “This is a love scene, as you’ve probably guessed, and your time to shine, Miss Atherton. Tonight you’re not the sweet girl from Indiana waiting tables in a diner, but a young gutsy secretary in a big city, entertaining a gentleman caller in her room.” He spoke with a certain bold energy that had the young woman enrapt. “This would be brash behavior for someone like Violet Atherton, but let me assure you, that kind of gutsy female isn’t all that rare in a town like this. You get what I’m after?”

“Oh, yes sir!” she came back eagerly.

“And you can imagine yourself that sort of girl?”

“I can. Absolutely, sir.”

“Good girl. You keep that character in mind, pretend it’s you, then keep one ear open for my instructions. I’ll describe everything you need to do as the scene unfolds. Acting is nothing more than following the director’s lead. You got that?”

“Oh, yes sir, I do. That should be easy enough.” With the assignment clear, her nerves were settling just a bit and the woozy feeling from the champagne had seemed to pass.

“Now,” Lionel said as he returned to his feet, “how about you wander onto our little set and get the feel of the place. Think of the character, think of this young, vibrant, sexy young female waiting for her lover. All her life she’s been waiting for this moment… the right lover, a night of verboten passion…”

Pulling Violet to her feet, he pushed her toward the set, as Violet took a deep breath and moved forward with all the confidence she could muster. An actress! Her first role! Bursting with excitement, her body felt as if it was burning up, it was so hot and ready for this moment.

Lionel led her toward the makeshift bed, then moved off the set and behind the camera, while Violet focused on the ‘gutsy’ character he’d described. Her eyes were half closed, her mind falling into a dreamy trance as she prepared herself.

After a few minutes Lionel began his monologue… “Okay, Miss Atherton, I want you to close your eyes a moment and imagine the scene just as I describe it for you.” Violet shuddered, her entire body quaking briefly, then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening as the director spoke. “Your lover will be arriving soon and you want to be ready for him. You’ll look in the mirror, you’ll fix your hair, apply another coat of lipstick—your hand will even shake as you’re putting it on. You’ve been thinking about the moment for weeks… about how you’re passionately in love with this handsome rake, and now, after months of denying yourself, you’re desperate to be with him.”

Violet hung on every word, her imagination leaping forward as the image became clear in her mind. No, this wasn’t all that difficult. Pulpy dime-store romances were filled with such scenes, and pulpy dime-store romances were Violet’s second passion. As she collected her thoughts, the surrounding floodlights came on one by one until she felt bathed by the heat, the warm, pulsating, vibrating heat.