Penny Takes the Stage

Epilogue

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"Oh god, Cam, harder, please--"

"Really?" he teased. "You're not too tired? You sounded sleepy before, in the car."

"No," Penny moaned. "I'm not sleepy, I'm not, just go harder, nnnh--" And she spread her legs wider in the darkness of their yard, in the curve of the deep end of their swimming pool, where they were currently fucking their brains out. The clothes they'd worn to go out that evening dotted the pool deck, lying where they'd thrown them as they ran from the garage to the back of the house, around the beautiful bougainvillea and rose bushes because, even after two months in their glorious new bungalow in Malibu, the novelty of making love in the pool hadn't worn off.

"Your wish is my command," he growled with a grin, and Cam grabbed her legs under the knees and yanked them higher, making the angles nearly impossible, definitely not something they could accomplish out of the water.

"You going to come for me now, my good girl?" Cam gasped as he felt his own release spiraling closer. He wanted Penny to finish first, because it made his own climax so much more exciting. "Hm?" he asked, punctuating his question with a hard thrust.

"Yes, wow, yes," Penny answered, pressing her pubic bone onto him, grasping his lean hips with her legs with incredible force, making him see stars. "Don't let me go, Cameron, I'll drown--"

Then she was grasping his back, clawing at it as she reached her finish, and Cam felt himself falling helplessly over the edge as she spasmed on him, holding his breath as pressed into her, over and over and over.

"Holy shit, sex in California is amazing," he said with a laugh when he could breathe again.

"Yeah," Penny agreed with a laugh, letting him slip out of her so she could swim a couple of easy laps before they went in.

Cam watched, enjoying seeing her nude body in the water. She looked like a Tahitian mermaid or something, he thought to himself.

They quickly gathered their things and went in to bed, sleeping with nothing on and the doors open to enjoy the sound of the surf.

"You ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so. The first day of shooting is always a little nerve wracking, I've been told, and we've never done a movie before, but we'll be with each other, so it should be fine, don't you think?"

"I think we'll be fine. And I think making a movie version of the play is a stroke of genius, too."

"Me too. And what about the other? You think it will be okay?"

"I do. I think it was just a matter of learning to feel as beautiful as you thought I was, of learning to see myself through your eyes, like you said, you know?"

"I do know. I'm just glad you finally understand too."

They drifted off with their hands entwined; she had a small crown tattooed on the inside of her left wrist, he a small penguin. Both were simple, nothing more then pencil drawings, really, though both would have to be covered for filming the next day. And when they held hands, as they were doing now, as they entered slumber, the tattoos touched, and covered each other completely, nearly to the point of being invisible to the outside observer.

The owners of the tattoos, however, knew they were there. Always.

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The camera rolls to a sunny morning along the seashore. Gulls call to each other as the sounds of the surf rolling in are also heard from offstage. Two cottages stand side by side among sand dunes and sea oats, isolated from the rest of the small seaside village, which can be seen in the distance.

The door to one opens, and a woman in her mid-twenties steps out, wearing capri pants and a tank top, long, beautiful hair blowing in the breeze. She sits on her porch swing and rolls up her pant legs, muscles on her tanned arms rippling as she does so. She whistles aimlessly she prepares for her morning, looking around and apparently liking what she sees. She smiles into the sun and picks up the buckets and a clamming rake that are sitting on the porch as she prepares to leave. Then, the door of the other cottage opens, and a man about the same age as the woman emerges. His hair is twisted into a tight knot from which a few dull strands escape, and he's wearing long sleeves and pants, loose, drab clothing, completely not in keeping with the bright, sunny atmosphere of the beach. His face is covered with scars, and one eye droops slightly because of a scar running right through it. He hugs his clothes to his body and hunches over slightly, as if not wanting to be seen, and quickly grabs his paper and his milk bottles from his porch while looking around to make sure no one is around. He turns around to go back inside when he and the woman see each other. She smiles and gives a little wave, which he sees, but doesn't return.

Jackie:
Hello, there! I was wondering when you were going to show up.

Harry:
You knew I was coming?

Jackie:
Well, yes, they told me the cottage had been rented for the off season, so I knew I'd have a neighbor from Labor Day until Memorial Day, if that's what you mean. And it is a one room cottage, so I figured it had to be one person or a pair of elves or something.

(She smiles, but he doesn't smile back)

Jackie:
Hey, I'm going clamming, obviously. I usually don't get a lot this soon after the tourists leave, but in case I do, you want some? I can just leave them on your porch when I get back--?

Harry: (pulling his sweater more tightly around him):
Oh. No--no thanks, I don't really like fishy things that much. Thank you, though. (He enters the house without waiting for a reply)

Jackie:
They're more of a bivalve than a fish, though-- (She notices he's gone, shrugs, and ambles off down the beach, continuing to whistle aimlessly. She picks a piece of sea oat and puts it between her teeth, enjoying the beautiful day.)

The End