The young actress frantically tries the theatre doors, dripping with rain, throbbing with stress. After trying a few, she finally finds an open one, bursts inside and is finally able to shut out the raging storm. She is panting, shivering, almost crying. She is far too late. The bad luck she has had on the way here is indescribable. One metro that arrived late and a connection she narrowly missed. Worst of all, when she left the underworld, the gorgeous summer’s day had turned into a furious thunderstorm. And, you know what, she failed to bring an umbrella! It was summer, wasn’t it? The white summer dress she selected with care is soaked and sticks to her body. She is wearing nothing else, aside from a simple white culotte and red pumps, to which she chose a lipstick that matched. Well, she will confess – it was summer and she wanted to look seductive and impress the director… So, she wears no bra. Her breasts are young and firm after all. But look at her now… a tramp! She sighs deeply.

She spots herself in one of the large mirrors in the hall and is shocked. The wet dress is diaphanous and she looks practically naked. She clearly sees her belly button and areolas. Her nipples are cold, wet and hard. Her carefully applied make-up has also run out. She sees a vulgar second-rate slut. But even if she had brought another dress, or a pair of trousers and a blouse, or a hairdryer to dry her hair, or her arsenal of make-up, she still wouldn’t have felt she had the time to change and smarten herself up. For her being late does not cover it – she should have been here half an hour ago and audition for a role she would Love to play – no, that she must have! Because she admires the director, Sylvain Copain-Auzières, deeply. Yes, but what’s worse, she really needs the work.

True that she would like to work with the director Copain-Auzières. But it is also true that she harbours an anxiety — in plain words, she is afraid of him, for he has a reputation for being ruthless. Is he still around at all? The door was still open, thank God. What should she do? Leaving is not an option, but she cannot change clothes and fix her make-up. What can she do but pull herself together, walk into the hall with her head held high and hope that he is still here?

She is young, twenty-five, but has already built up a good CV of roles. Since she caused a furore in ‘Virginia Woolf’, while in fact still at drama college, she played mainly relationship dramas, to critical acclaim. Played – because her last role, Nora in Ibsen’s Doll House, dates back to eighteen months ago. She had not finished the series of Ibsen performances by a week when her boyfriend ended their relationship. She had not seen this coming at all. He was an actor himself, good at pretending, and had taken up with a friend of hers, who had played the part of Christine in the Doll’s House performance — had been a close colleague! Her self-confidence had been shaken, so much so that she had been off the rails for a year, could not act anymore. She could not act and pretend she was not shocked. It was only in the last month or so that she had re-immersed herself in the audition circus. Cautiously, too cautiously probably, because she didn’t make a big impression and the competition is massive. So, it’s now or never. She has to succeed here!

The piece is new and written by Copain himself. “Attendant sans Défense” (or “Helplessly waiting”). She has not seen the whole script. Anything but. Only a motto was made available.

‘”You are not prepared to be mine. Not fully and unconditionally.”

He looks at me for a few moments as I stand there, waiting. He then quietly closes the front door and is gone.’

Copain-Auzières, 2021

She has been chewing on this. There is a ‘he’, who apparently thinks that the ‘I’ does not put enough into the relationship they have together. And then ‘he’ walks off and closes the proverbial door. ‘I’ behaves passively, and just waits. ‘He’ seems possessive, someone who doesn’t tolerate contradiction. Not that we see ‘I’ give any contradiction. ‘He’ is controlled. ‘He’ does not slam the door. ‘I’ is in control too, as she shows no signs of despair. She is just ‘waiting.’ Unusual. The young actress doesn’t know what the history and context is of course. But if these three sentences serve as a motto, then that history shouldn’t put the message in a completely different light, should it? So, the play is about an unequal relationship in which both partners restrain themselves. Of course, she does not know whether the ‘I’ isn’t about to break out in tears. She feels that is very likely.

Especially as the actress who wants to play the ‘I’ character is currently feeling so close to tears herself. But she pulls herself together…

… and she pushes open the theatre door. Without delay, a voice shouts at her, ‘So! You are late!’

The theatre is pitch-dark, the stage sparsely lit by a spotlight or two. From the shadows, a dark figure steps centre stage. She recognises Copain. He is wearing a sharp black suit, with a ditto shirt and tie. He beckons impatiently. ‘Come on! Come here!’ The actress walks up the aisle.

‘God, and you look awful too! How dare you present yourself this late and looking like a vagabond!’

Copain-Auzières is at the stage front. The actress is dumbfounded.

‘Now then, say “Apologies, Monsieur Copain”.‘

What is this? She does not even think about it. Her confusion is immediately over and replaced by anger.

‘What are you standing there for? Repeat after me, “Apologies, Monsieur Copain”.’

She walks towards the stage, halts right near it, directly under him and looks up, a nervous smile on her lips. He does not return her smile.

‘I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Copain, and that I’m rained out. I did my best to be on time. And that rain – who would have expected it?’

Copain comes to the very edge of the stage. He towers over her, bends forward, puts his hands to his sides and says, ‘Hello!!!… I said, ‘Repeat after me, “Apologies, Monsieur Copain”.‘

She looks up at him, outraged again, eyes on fire. ‘I will not repeat after you. I have already apologised. I like to speak in my own words.’

Two seconds of silence… He then roars with laughter. ‘An actress, and she’d like to speak in her own words.’ She blushes, whether from shame or anger.

He looks down at her, silently, and then says icily slowly and softly, ‘Listen. It’s like this. I’m the director, in charge of what happens, and the writer of the play, in charge of the words. You are the actress who says my words. So, without delay, “Apologies, monsieur Copain”!’

She furiously clenches her fists, unable to deflect this humiliation. But she realises that he has left her with no choice. He is smart. She opens her fists with a jolt and then relaxes. She hates herself when she mutters, like an angry child, “Apologies, monsieur Copain.“ She knows immediately that he will not accept it this way. And indeed, her humiliation has not yet ended.

‘You are boring me… Now clearly, shout it, as if you were an angry actress, “Apologies, monsieur Copain”.’

She is an angry actress and shouts, ‘Apologies, monsieur Copain!’

He laughs out loud. ‘Good on you, child. Now I know you have a voice! Climb up on stage, and we’ll start.’

She climbs the stairs at stage left and walks to the centre. She has not yet reached there when he walks off to the right, descends and positions himself at her feet.

Now what?

‘Juliette, right? She nods. ‘Juliette, so, do you actually know what this play is about? Admittedly, I haven’t given you much…’

She declares, ‘“You are not prepared to be mine. Not fully and unconditionally.” I suspect the play is about a relationship between two people, an unequal relationship, a power relationship.’

‘Very good. It’s about a sadomasochistic relationship, as it used to be called — I like this classical term. Between a dominant and a submissive and, classically, this would be a master and a submissive woman. 50 Shades of Jazz, you know. You are here for the role of the latter.

‘It’s true, someone should write a book or play about a mistress and a submissive man. Well, there is Venus im Pelz maybe — where the master becomes the submissive and the submissive the mistress, so that is interesting – but more recently, and a famous story? I am thinking about it, I really am, to write about a mistress and a submissive male. However, my play “Attendant sans Défense (Helplessly waiting)” is in the classical tradition, of master and submissive woman. That’s the perspective, my frame of reference.’

He adds, mumbling, ‘regardless of our own reference frame, yours and mine.‘

She can only guess what he means. She thinks she knows her own reference.

He continues, ‘Do you know what I’m talking about? Do you know anything about S&M? Are you experienced?

‘No! What do you think? That every woman is a slave?’

‘This is not about me, although I wrote the piece. Nor about you, although you hope to act it. I asked you the question if you know anything about S&M and have experience with it. You don’t have to lie.’

‘Yes, I know what S&M is and that there are masters, mistresses, so-called slaves, male and female. And I’ve tied up a lover before and been there myself.’

‘Very well, that helps. And Juliette, you’re an actress, I know you’re good, have had success, but have been out of it for a while. I can only guess why.’

She looks cross. ‘Well, it may have been due to illness!’

‘You are betraying yourself. So, you weren’t ill. You were having relationship trouble.’

‘As if you know. It’s none of your company!’

‘Ok, fine, it’s none of my company. I just guessed and guess that I am right. What I wanted to say is, you’re a good actress and can therefore empathise with the role of a submissive woman, whether you have experience with submission or not, but especially if you were out for so long because of relationship issues.’

‘Indeed, I can!’

‘But a bit of experience at all times helps. Never mind. As you say, it is not really my company. I was just making conversation. Whatever. Pardon me.

‘Well, the play is about a classical case, a classic submissive woman, like Justine or O. Or cute little Anastasia, if you like. The play doesn’t name the slave, that is, in my play the heroine has the first name of the actress, so Juliette in your case. Just so you know.’

‘Fine. I don’t mind.’

‘You should care. You should feel honoured. Very honoured…! Whore!’

‘What? Beware, monsieur Copain! I am the actress, not the role.’

‘And this is an audition. You play and I play with you. The actress is the role. Find out?’

Juliette frowns. ‘OK, but I’m both. Please bear that in mind. I accept that you are playing.’

‘It’s good that you accept. I have made my point. Now, something else. You should know that you will be naked in the play. Like a classical slave, available always and not owning her own body. Is that okay?’

The actress lets out a deep sigh and shrugs her shoulders.

‘Well… What can I say? You are overwhelming me. I’d rather not be, that is, not if I don’t have to. But if it’s the role… In King Lear by your colleague Andersen, I played the role of Cordelia and was naked for the entire play. I had to get used to it, but at some point, it felt right. It fitted in with our conception of the play.’

‘I know. I saw you in that play. And talked to Andersen about you. Whether that was really functional nudity…? Andersen laughed and confessed he just had you naked because he could. But anyway, I saw you, the nudity was appropriate, you were good and that’s why I invited you to audition and, indeed, I waited for you for half an hour. Glad that you’re here, Juliette.’

Juliette smiles. Oh, what does that smile express? Shyness, readiness for the challenge? Could it be a heart-warming combination of both? Oh, women… You never know now, do you?

‘At your service, monsieur Copain. You name it.’

‘That’s what I wanted to hear! Now, get undressed! I didn’t heat up this great hall for nothing.’

‘Gee… In Lear I was never alone with the director. I don’t know if I can tolerate this, you hear? Are you sure you’re not abusing your position of power now?’

‘Well, whore, would you like a confidant there? Legal Proof of Good Behaviour about me? We are playing, Juliette. It is not Sylvain Copain-Auzières, the person, who commands you, but the director of the play. Strictly company. And play.

‘So, I repeat, disrobe.’

For two or three seconds we see the actress standing still, frozen. Then she sighs and bends down to take off her pumps. With the shoes in her hands, she stands up again and says, ‘Can I trust you, Monsieur Copain?’

Copain laughs out loud, in a theatrical manner. His face looks like thunder. He is playing, of course.

‘Do you take me seriously, Juliette? Who do you think I am? Not a case of #Metoo here. Which I fully support, by the way. I am a respected director. No Weinstein! Or even an Andersen. What about you? Compared to me, you’re nothing! You do need this role, harder than I need you to play it. Sorry, I am transgressing… I take all of that back.

‘Regardless, be an actress!’

They stand there for a minute, eyeing each other, like the toreador eyes the bull and vice versa. (Who is which?) Then, Copain sighs and calls out,

‘Damn it, get undressed, girl. I want to see you. And I want to see you do it. Now!’

The actress ponders that he might be right. Copain can hardly be called a friendly director. He is known as extreme, she has heard the stories, but as far as she knows he makes no distinction between men and women. And he makes extremely good plays. Yet she still hesitates to expose herself to him, here, alone together in this great theatre.

‘Can you turn round, please?’

‘Yes, I can. And I can dismiss you too.’

He stands below her, looks up at her. He is relaxed, hands on his hips, but clearly in charge.

‘What sort of actress are you? One who doesn’t want to be seen? Well, Juliette, you’d be the first. Think about it again, but do not think too long. I would suggest, don’t be yourself now, play your role, that of Juliette, a slave. The actress Juliette stays dressed in the role of the slave Juliette. Think of it this way, if that makes it easier for you.’

He continues to look at her, in the same posture, but now with a kind and inviting smile. But after a few moments that smile suddenly changes back to a wry grin. He hisses, ‘Do it, whore!’

We see the actress turn her gaze inward. She seems to be transferring into her role. She straightens her back and stands proudly on the stage. She is present now. A good actress after all.

Juliette puts her red pumps to one side, slowly and carefully. Her movements are assured, loose and fluid.

She stares into the distance, over the imaginary heads in the hall. With her fingers, she combs her hair back. (Oh, what beauty!)

Then her hands go to her back. We hear her open the zip of her wet white dress. The dress does not drop down; the fabric still clings to her body. She has to tear it off her body, as if it were made of rubber. Her naked chest is visible first, but she is not coy; she works hard to separate the dress from her torso. Finally, she shakes the dress off her hips and steps out. Between her full nudity and the spectator (the director, and us…) there are now only her white underpants, a simple, tasteful white pair. The garment is wet too and follows the outline of her labia majora. Left and right she grabs the elastic, pushes it down her hips, steps out of the panties – and there, behold… she is naked.

Copain quickly assumes the role of a stagehand, swiftly picks up the shoes, the wet underpants and the dress. Leaves them to dry on a chair.

Well, let’s pause a moment…

The actress is gorgeous indeed. No question. Her features are delicate. Her dark hair may be uncombed, but that suits her naturally Free charisma, which after her hesitant begin is gradually coming to the surface. Her young breasts are at their peak, B or C, we’re not sure, pouting, delicate pink areolas. Her dark pubic hair is neatly shaven in her groin and around her labia. So, these intimate lips are easy to see. On the triangle of her mound of Venus, the hair is quite long. Fingers could easily grab it, pull it…

Copain has been watching her all this time, shamelessly, eating her up with his eyes, as it were. Is he playing a role? That of a director, that of a master? Or does he play – is he – himself?

‘Thank you, Juliette. I enjoyed you. But I behaved, didn’t I?’

Juliette – as herself? – now nods, shyly again. She is not sure.

‘Now we are where we need to be. We got there in the end and we can get to the play.

‘You will be naked always, as I said. I’m still debating whether to add a scene in which you become a slave, in which you accept your master’s command to humiliate yourself and undress in front of him. That would be a nice, quiet core scene. But I don’t know if I want to give the audience the pleasure of a striptease. Too theatrical, funnily enough. I want rawness, absolutely no titillation.

‘One problem I’m still thinking about is that of your pubic hair. I didn’t know if you wore any, shall we say. Many women your age shave it. Most, perhaps. For a long time, I would have said, get rid of it, I like the naked Sex. But personally, I have changed my mind. Provided it’s well kept. Yours is well kept and isn’t — could be trimmed a bit. But, pubic hair… no more little-girl stuff, and I like the tickle and also the smell during cunnilingus. If well cared for. One thing makes me hesitate. In the play you play a slave. I think they are usually shaved. What do you think?’

Juliette smiles shyly.

‘My pubic hair has never been considered so closely. Well, all right. Let’s get past the embarrassment. Some of my past boyfriends wanted a nude Sex, others a natural look. So, at times I shaved it and at other times let it grow. I never had it lasered or anything, because I wanted to keep the option. And that’s good, because right now, like you, I’m on the side of the natural look. When I see girlfriends in the Shower, I think the majority are bald, or just have a landing strip. But I think pubic hair is making a comeback. A slave girl, well, she has to be kept under… So, I guess, bald? I don’t know. It’s up to you. As for me personally, since I broke up with my latest boyfriend, I let it go. For the audition, I just made it neat.’

‘Good on you… As if you knew you’d naked. I like women who expect the unexpected.’

‘Expect the unexpected, you have to, don’t you, in this line of company? Truth be told, I didn’t anticipate on showing it at all. I did it just for myself. A woman does that, just like we wear nice underwear on occasion, even if we don’t anticipate it being seen.’

Copain listens with interest.

‘Thank you, Juliette, for your frank explanation. I am fine with your hair as it is, though we’ll decide before the opening.

‘As to my appreciation of pubic hair, I have discussed the choices with actresses and also with my wives. Once, in one of my plays, a horror drama, I had a role whom the script called upon to remove every hair on her body. That’s how the writer wanted it. But even I wondered it was going too far, let alone the actress. A gorgeous woman of around thirty was cast in the role, with the most gorgeous wavy brown hair you can imagine, gorgeous eyebrows, dense pubic hair, the lot. For the writer, it was certainly a Fetish, but still he managed to convince the actress that it was necessary for the play. And as compensation he would do it himself, he promised, in her presence. Just imagine: he had an excessive afro and large beard and was said to be quite hairy everywhere. She bucked and they did it together, in each other’s presence, with each other’s help, with me there as witness. It was extremely exciting to see the man and the woman undress and strip each other of every hair. Can you imagine! Every single hair!! When done, they had both become unrecognisable. Super-naked and void. Theatre. They should have had a bigger audience doing this than just me. I should have written a piece about it, this extreme hair removal. Maybe I will still do. A piece of two, three hours, exactly as long as it actually took. The difficulty is, if I were to have people really shave each other’s heads during every performance, and how could it be otherwise, I would need a whole battery of actors… Maybe I can manage with young actors, straight from drama college, who want to work with me at any price. Food for wondered. Are you interested? But never mind, I’m wandering off terribly. Their play was not a success, by the way. It had a run of five only. Much ado for nothing. But I enjoyed it.’