Reese Gabriel - Captured!--On Film

After six months, he was able to make a translation, to his satisfaction, in English. He was able to speak well enough to represent it. To his surprise, there were producers in England who took immediate interest, largely because of his role on Ambrosiano's last film. He had to put up with some unwanted celebrity from this, but finally, as the initial hoopla faded, Grigori was able to get the right people to listen.

His one and only request was for his name to be changed. This was to keep either Giovanni or Julie from knowing what he was up to. The name he chose was Dmitri Vrastor, the surname being the Dasklovian word for a conqueror or overcomer.

Indeed, what had he not overcome to reach this point? To be able to sit in a fine hall like this and choose actors for his own production. Really, it had seemed as if he had it all, coming to New York like this. But then he had a look at the list of names. The female ones.

Julie had signed up to audition for his play.

He felt an instant tightening in his groin. Did she know who he was? It was doubtful. He allowed no pictures. The name would have meant nothing to her. As far as she was concerned, it was just another audition. He could have her stricken, but that hardly seemed fair. Besides he was curious. What would she look like a year later? He was surprised she'd be here in New York and not in Los Angeles. Had something changed in her life?

Of course he could never give her the part. That would be a conflict of interest. But he could listen to her, view her with his face hidden, just for old time's sake. This was the point he was at when his assistant called out her name. He smiled thinking how he used to call her “Julya” because he could not say Julie. He smiled over many other things, too. Like how she had touched him and brightened his life. And how hollow things were now, even with all his success.

Maybe seeing her was not going to be such a good idea at all.

Merciful heaven, she was more beautiful than ever. She'd cut her hair short, bringing out the youth of her face. She was wearing jeans and a t shirt, looking totally comfortable. And sexy, too. That ass under the faded denim-how could he forget the feel of it? And the weight of her breasts in his hands. The shirt might disguise them, hiding them somewhat, but he knew their reality, how they responded to touch, to kisses and caresses. He longed to have them now, to have her.

Fists clenched, he squirmed in the seat. Let it be done, he thought, let this audition be through so he could reject her and move on. There was only one problem. As the small blonde opened her mouth speaking the words that he had written, it became immediately apparent that she was perfect for the part. No-that was an understatement. In truth, the part of Summer Lust had been written precisely and exactly for her. And if he did not choose her it would be a crime, against the play and against whatever audiences were destined to see it.

"Enough,” he called out.

"What is it, sir?” The assistant wanted to know. “Do you wish to move immediately on to the next auditioner?"

"No, I wish to go to my office and not be disturbed. For the rest of the afternoon."

"What about the actors?"

"Send them all home,” he pronounced. “I have a headache."

* * * *

Julie was sure she knew the voice from somewhere. But where would she have met the man? She wished now she'd done her homework, as to who he was and where he came from. Truth be told, she'd done so many of these auditions lately in between her double shifts waitressing at the Golden Triangle Deli that she wasn't really sure which end was up much less what the difference was between “Seasons of Lust” the play and Four Seasons, the hotel.

Admittedly, this was the easiest script she'd ever read in her life. One read through had been enough to memorize it. She was even confident enough to change one or two of the stage directions, adding little things she thought the character would do as she was talking. In some ways it was a little spooky-curious, at least. In the same way it was curious that the director was dismissing himself instead of her. Okay, she'd blown it. He didn't like her improves, whatever, there were a dozen more waiting in the wings to take their best shots, all of whom were at least as well qualified as her.

Yes, there was something fishy here. Something oddly familiar. In the voice, as in the script. But there was nothing she could link it to in her memory. That is until the assistant director responded to his boss injunction to shut down the audtions for the day.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Vrastor,” said the skinny, effeminate man. “Can we bring you some aspirin? Some cold compresses?"

Vrastor . Now that was a connection she could not ignore. Did this director have anything to do with Grigori? Their voices were similar, she'd thought of that earlier only to dismiss it. The man spoke almost no English, after all, and he was hardly in the market to be producing a hit play.

On the off chance, she called out his name. He made no reply as he stormed from the theater. He was large, though, as large as her bear wrestler and the hair was right, too.

"Grigori,” she cried, her sneakers bounding down the wooden stairs. There was no way to catch up with him. His booted feet and denim-clad legs were managing one step to her two. He did have to stop to close his office door behind him, however, and that's where she had him.

"Please, Grigori. I only want to talk."

Actually, she wanted more than that. The man looked lean and delicious, his cock nicely filling the Levis, his chest smoothly covered in a turtleneck. It had been so long for her-since the last time with him and Giovanni, actually.

"There is not anything to talk of,” he replied, though he let her in before closing the door.

She stood there, moist eyed. “Your English is so good, Grigori."

His frown deepened. “It is passable, that is all."

Julie licked her lips. How did she break ice like this? It was fate, them coming back together. She couldn't let the opportunity slip by. “I missed you,” she whispered.

Grigori was silent.

She moved to touch his cheek. He held her wrist in mid air. “I do not want this, Julie."

Julie felt a tugging at her heart. “You can say my name now.” It was a bittersweet thing; she was proud of him and yet there had been something so special about being his Julya.

He looked at the hand he help captive. “You are not married?"

"No,” she breathed. “There is no one…” She was going to say ‘no one else,’ but she stopped short.

Grigori nodded. “Your hair, it is good like this."

"You like it? I was afraid … well, I thought maybe the short hair wouldn't be pleasing.” Julie flushed red at the sound of her own babbling. She'd had no idea she'd see the man today or ever. How could she be standing here like a schoolgirl in the company of her first crush?

He released her wrist. “Your performance,” he said. “It was excellent … very pleasing."

She lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Grigori."

A moment later her hands were at the bottom of her t-shirt … oh, god, what was she doing?

"And these?” She asked softly, pulling the garment over her head to reveal her bra-clad breasts. “Are they pleasing also?"

Grigori's features tightened. She noticed some action in the groin area, too. “This is not a road to go down, Julie. It would be different now. I am different."

Her heart was beating like a rabbit's. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked the pink lace bra. “Different how?” She pulled it forward over her shoulders.

"When you knew me before, there was guilt inside me, a frozen wasteland. I burn now. There is no telling what that would do to a woman. I have not dared try, Julie, not since I was with you."