Here's My Heart

By Chrissy

Luis had no time to suffer nerves or stage fright. Within minutes the curtain rose and he was centre stage and in bed with Julia. "Oh Lord, the mistress is home and we're in her bedchamber!" Julia shrieked, her voice loud and affected. "Get out, Beck, get out. Hide! Hide! There! Behind the screen. The mistress is coming. Quick!"

Then she whispered in his ear, "Jump from the bed and get behind the screen. A prompt stands in the side wings and he'll tell you when to the say your lines. You don't have much dialogue until the second act. Good luck, darling."

His head spinning, Luis did as he was directed. Wearing nothing but white sateen tights that clung as snug as a second skin he stood behind the screen, hiding from the other actors on stage, but in full view of the eagerly watching audience.

"Christ, Lydia - An undressed bloke on stage in full view. Did you ever see the likes?" Because it was so dark, Luis could not see the audience. But he could certainly hear their ribald comments. He felt as if a thousand eyes devoured him. Embarrassment heated his skin. He stood almost naked before dozens of people - complete strangers. He would have bolted, but there was nowhere to go except out into the audience. So he remained where he was and prayed for the curtain to drop and put an end his torment.

"Look at them dimples in his cheeks," came a cheery cockney voice. The London theatre was a popular place, frequented by commoners as well as nobility.

"Dimples? 'Ow can you see dimples, Clara? 'E's got 'is back turned to us."

"I mean the dimples in his bum, silly goose. Did yer ever see such a loverly bum?"

"Darling, we really must visit Spain," a well-bred nasal drawl in the front row commented. "Such an interesting country."

"They chase cows, don't they?" returned his female companion.

"No, bulls - darling, they kill bulls. I think they do it for fun. We really must visit."

"Hey, sweetheart! Turn around," someone else whispered loudly. Luis cringed, wishing the ground would open and swallow him.

Finally the scene was over and the curtain fell. Loud cheering and whistling could be heard from a very spirited audience that came to its feet in wild noisy enthusiasm.

Mr. Beaumont was beside himself with joy. "You're doing marvelously," he gushed at Luis. "It's going better than expected. Much better than expected. Bloody marvelous actually."

"'Ere's yer suit, Luis, love" said Mrs. Mound waddling up to him with a jacket and pants.

"You wear clothes in the second act," Reginald Beaumont winked at Luis. "Such a pity. Such a pity." He almost pranced to the door and with final flap of his handkerchief he left.

At that moment Julia came into the room. Luis thought he saw annoyance in her eyes. "What were you doing behind that screen?" she demanded angrily. "The audience was so talkative and restless. No one was paying any attention to what was going on!"

Luis shrugged. "What do you think I was doing? I just stood there. I have never felt so foolish in my entire life."

Julia pouted. "Well, don't forget *I'm* supposed to be the star. Not you! Don't steal the show from me, Luis. I've worked too hard for this."

"Listen, Julia. This was YOUR idea, not mine. I'm quite willing to go home right now. Right this minute."

But Julia's annoyance quickly faded. She kissed him quickly. "Oh don't mind me. I'm a bag of nerves."

She grabbed a bottle from a nearby table and took a long swig. Then she passed the bottle to Luis. "Here, have some of Mrs. Mound's gin. It will give you confidence. The second half will be better, Luis darling. You wait and see. You might even enjoy it."

To Luis's surprise he actually did enjoy himself during the second half. He caught on quickly to the amorous character of Beck and began to play the part with a macho Spanish flair much to the delight of the audience. The other actors took him under their wing and guided him with whispers and directions. The fact that he was fully clothed gave him confidence and he found himself deriving real joy from the laughter and enthusiastic response from the merry London audience.

However, at one point in the second act he lost his stride and floundered. He was supposed to pull the vicar's daughter into a clandestine embrace and kiss her on the lips. But to Luis's complete astonishment the young actress playing the role pushed her tongue into his mouth with a teasing giggle. He jerked back and stared at her in surprise. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "Just tasting," she grinned back with a cheeky toss of her head. "I couldn't help it. You look so luscious."

Luis hoped Julia, just off stage, had not seen the encounter.

At last the play was over. When each actor came out to take his or her bow the audience applauded in loud enthusiasm. But when Luis was shoved to centre stage by the other actors, the audience rose to its collective feet and cheered amid fervent whistling and foot stomping. Luis was totally taken aback at the response.

"They love you," laughed Holly, the actress playing the vicar's daughter. "You did really well." She squeezed his hand encouragingly. "You deserve all the accolades tonight."

***

In the early hours of the morning, filled with champagne, Luis and Julia strolled arm in arm along slick, cobblestone streets, their heels clicking and echoing in the still, frosty air. A few figures shuffled about. But most Londoners were in their homes and warmly tucked into their beds.

They stopped under the creamy light of a gas lamp to light their cigars. "Christ, what I'd give for a good Cuban cigar," Luis remarked with a grin.

Julia puffed on her own cigar. "Well, soon we will be able to afford the very best, Luis darling. It went so well tonight. The play is going to have a long run. You wait and see."

"I wish you hadn't told them I was Spanish, though. I'm Cuban. The accent - it's completely different. I'll be found out right away." He flicked ash from his jacket and drew hard on the cigar again.

"Oh, come on, darling! London isn't exactly over run with Spaniards, you know. Anyway, you can say you were born and raised in Cuba. Just tell them that you traveled to Spain to study at the National Theatre."

"I guess I could say that." He smiled to himself. Lies always came so easily to Julia.

"Anyway," she went on, skipping over a puddle. "It's not as if you're going to make a career out of acting. This is just for a few days, darling, until they find someone to replace Charles."

He did not reply and Julia looked at him quickly. "You're not thinking that you have this part as a permanent job?" She laughed, her eyes brittle. "Don't be silly. You saved the day. That's all it was."

Luis blew a cloud of smoke into the frosty air. "I have been offered the part on a permanent basis," he returned softly. "I really enjoyed it, Julia. I enjoyed being on stage. It felt good."

Julia stopped dead. "Who offered you the part?"

"Reggie."

"Reggie? Oh, Reginald Beaumont?" Julia tossed her cigar into the road with an angry flick. "He's toying with you. He fancies you. He thinks you'll sleep with him."

"Maybe," Luis replied. But he knew he had the part. While Julia drank champagne and flirted with the other actors, Luis had signed a contract for work. He would be paid the enormous sum of one thousand pounds a year. More than Julia.

Reginald had slapped Luis on the back. "You moved about that stage as if you were born in the footlights. I know charisma and presence, when I see it. And you have it, Luis. You have what it takes," Reginald had literally beamed. "I cannot wait to begin composing my new stage play. And you shall have the leading role, my man."

As they entered their lodgings, Julia thoughts were in a whirl. A knot of fear clutched at her heart. If she allowed herself to be honest, she had to admit, deep down inside, that Luis had been surprising good. He had performed with a confidence that Julia had never seen in him before. The audience had been very responsive; he had held their attention. They liked him. All eyes had been on him, not the other actors. Not her. Luis had held them in the palm of his hand.

A niggling part of her realized that something had changed. Something in their relationship was different. Another passion, besides her, had crept into his life. She didn't like it. She didn't like this feeling. She liked being in control.

Undressing quickly, she shook the foolish worries from her head. They both climbed into bed, shivering for the room was drafty and cold. Luis's warm body was on top of hers in an instance. She wrapped her arms and legs about him and held on for the stormy ride. No man in the whole world could thrill her like Luis. And she had experienced plenty of men in her lifetime. But Luis was the best. Luis could bring her to the most intense climax every time. Every single time.

She would never let him know how much she needed him. And she would never let him go.

***

The following Saturday, Julia rushed into the their rented rooms with the weekly newspaper clutched in her hands. "There's a review of the play. Let's see what it says," she cried, bouncing onto the bed.

Luis was shaving by the light of the window. A winter sun had braved the scuttling clouds and filled the room with its watery glow.

He turned and watched as she read the article. As she scanned the words, her face dropped, the happy smile disappearing. Finally, with a loud curse, she flung the paper to the floor.

"What's wrong?" he asked, wiping the last remains of soap from his face and crossing the room. He sat down next to her on the bed.

"It's doesn't even mention me," she pouted angrily, "and I have the main role. The damn play's called The Maid's Dilemma. And I play the part of the goddamn maid. Yet I'm not mentioned at all."

Luis leaned down and took the newspaper up from the floor. "What does it say then?"

"It's all about YOU," Julia cried sharply, her eyes filling with tears. "You are the only one mentioned. It goes on an on about how good you are. How handsome you are. How excellent an actor you are. How skillful you are. How funny you are. How talented…YOU! YOU! YOU!"

Luis tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away. "You've never even taken an acting lesson!"

"Neither have you!" he returned, his own anger rising.

"But I've been on stage dozens of times in America. I've traveled with a production all over the country, from town to town. I've played leading roles in numerous plays. I've worked in the New York theatre!" Her voice shook with anger.

Suddenly she collapsed into a flood of tears. Luis hesitated, unsure how to act. He wanted to comfort her. Yet he couldn't help his own excitement.

Turning away, he took up the paper and glanced through the article quickly. -- "Where did Reginald Beaumont find this theatrical gem?" it said. "Luis Vargas shines with the sparkle of a brilliant jewel. Handsome, funny, outrageous. He fell into the role without rehearsal or preparation and has proven himself to be a true thespian. The audience falls under his spell within minutes of the curtain rising."

He read through the rest of the article. It mentioned no one but him. And it was flattering to the extreme. No wonder Julia was so angry.

He tried to hug her again, but she pushed him away. "I wish you'd never set foot on that damn stage," she yelled.

He laughed dryly. "Well, it was you - Julia, dear - who proposed the idea."

He crossed to the dresser and poured two large shots of whisky. "Here," he said offering her the glass. "We have to get going soon. The curtain rises at 8 o'clock."

"I'm not going," she cried, her voice thick with tears. "Let them rot! I'm not going where I'm not appreciated."

He smiled. A hardness crept into his words. "Then Amelia will take your role, sweetheart. She's dying to get her teeth into the part of the maid. She's been studying your lines religiously."

"If I don't go, then you don't go!" she declared with a stamp of her foot. "It's only a stupid play."

"I'm going," he replied determinedly.

Julia's head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. This was a new Luis. She had never heard him speak this way. Usually he did what she wanted, especially if she cried.

"Well, then, let's just leave London," she said quickly, moving to put her arms around him. "Let's go back to sunny Spain. I'm tired of the constant rain. And I know you hate it here."

Luis gave her the whisky glass. "We're going to the theatre. Drink this and get your wrap. We are late already."

She shot him a furious glare but she took the glass and swallowed the whisky in one gulp. Then she flung her cloak about her shoulders. "You are a bastard, Luis Vargas!" she announced, sweeping ahead of him to fling open the door. "Come on, let's go."

***

The months went by quickly. The winter was unusually cold and through December, January and February there were hard frosts and some snow, but at last the freezing weather broke and the green buds of spring pushed through thawing earth.

It was now warm enough for Luis to remove his wool jacket as he strolled to the theatre. There was a lightness in his step and he whistled a Cuban lullaby. The cheery cockney vendors with their bunches of colourful flowers for sale waved a greeting as he passed by. Life was good for Luis. The sunshine warmed his spirits.

The play, "The Maid's Dilemma" had come to the end of its successful run. Luis was now in the leading role of Beaumont's new production, "That Summer in Madrid." Julia was also in the play, but in a minor role for she had argued hotly with Reginald Beaumont and lost favour with him.

Julia had shown her spiteful jealous side as Luis's star begun to rise. After two weeks his name had been placed above hers on the theatre marquee. Julia had been furious.

"He lied to you!" she had stormed at Reginald Beaumont. "He's not from Spain. He's never stepped one foot inside the National Theatre! He's never even taken an acting lesson."

Reginald had studied an immaculate fingernail with a calm aloofness. "It seems to me," he drawled haughtily, "that it was YOU, Julia dear, who lied. It was YOU who said your husband was a thespian of Spain's National Theatre. And it was apparent at the time that you were lying. I saw through you right away. But it didn't matter because Luis is a true natural. He doesn't need acting lessons. The man is a star and a pleasure to direct."

***

Julia caressed the heavy necklace. The warmth of her body had heated the large emerald stones and they felt warm and smooth under her fingers. She smiled smugly as she lay on her back. Above her Lord Rutherford grunted and rocked back and forth, his penis so small she could hardly be sure he was still inside her. But he had presented her with this fabulous necklace worth thousands of pounds so she was happy to give the performance of her life.

"Oh my God!" she cried passionately, "Oh, my Lord. What a man you are!"

Lord Rutherford shuddered and groaned as his cock emptied in climax. Below him Julia didn't even realize it had happened and continued writhing and performing. "Oh, you're so wonderful, - faster, faster," she breathed.

"Madam, I am spent!" he returned somewhat haughtily. He rose up above her with a frown.

Realizing her mistake, Julia immediately kissed him passionately. "Oh Howie, that was fantastic."

Lord Howard Rutherford was a bachelor in his late thirties. He had never married. He had never been completely comfortable in the presence of the female sex and his shy manner and homely looks had kept him away from the sacrament of marriage. But Lord Rutherford was immensely rich. And he was easily parted from his money by a pretty face and willing body. Julia was always ready to turn a man's weakness to her own advantage. She had collected quite a cache of jewels and sequestered them away in a safety deposit box at the bank. In one way she felt she was getting back at Luis for all his theatrical success.

She dressed quickly. "I must return to my husband," she declared, pulling her cloak around her. Lord Rutherford pouted. "I don't understand. Divorce the bastard. I cannot live without you, darling. You know that. I want to have you for myself. I don't like all this coming and going."

"I will, my love," Julia returned, anxious to be away. "One day soon. I just have to wait for the right time to tell him."

She hurried through the streets. Luis would be arriving home from rehearsals at any minute and he would want to know where she had been. But as she swept along she realized that she was fooling herself. These days Luis's life was fully occupied with the theatre. He cared little where she was or with whom. Julia realized the binds had broken. She had lost him. She no longer controlled him. His obsession had faded.

They had rented a two-story house on Victoria Street, just off the busy Strand. It was an upscale four bedroom terraced home. They could even afford to employ a servant, and Bessie opened the door for Julia as she swept inside.

"Is the Master home?" Julia asked.

"No, mam," replied Bessie, a 15-year old girl, pink cheeked and healthy and totally smitten with Luis. She became hopelessly beet red and tongue-tied whenever he spoke to her.

"Heat some water," Julia ordered, flinging her clothes from her as she walked through the house. "I want to take a bath. "

Julia heard Luis return to the house as she soaked in the soapy tub. She lit a cigar and her eyes watched the door waiting for him.

At last he came through the doorway with a smile on his face. These days Luis seemed filled with an inner joy that annoyed Julia to the extreme. She longed for the dark past for, although it had been fraught with poverty, she had held Luis under her spell. He had followed her about like a sick puppy. It had been a heady experience having a man so completely enslaved.

Luis flung his jacket onto a nearby chair. "Is there room in there for two?" he asked, pulling his shirt from his body. His obsessive need might be gone, but Luis's appetite for sex had never diminished.

She threw back her head and laughed. "There's room. If I open my legs like this," she draped each thigh over the side of the metal tub, "You can sit between them."

"Sounds good to me," Luis laughed. It occurred to Julia that her husband was even more cheerful than usual. She watched as he removed the rest of his clothes. He strode across the room toward her. Powerful and virile, with wide square shoulders, a slim waist and magnificent legs, he was an exciting contrast to the pale effeminate Lord Rutherford. Her eyes dropped to his groin. Already he was hard and big, his penis stood rigid with desire and hunger.

Soapsuds flicked onto his handsome face as he stepped into the bath. Water sloshed over the sides onto the carpeted floor. "Come here, woman," he growled. He took her into his arms, pulling her body close, his face suddenly intense and serious, glowing with desire. One arm reached out and went about her waist, drawing her slowly toward him and she slid into his lap. His hand went down beneath the suds and guided his cock inside. Her blood began to rush, filling her with warmth and quick passion. Their mouths came together and lips parted as velvet tongues played and stroked.

Julia closed her eyes in rapture. Luis was an incredible lover. He knew exactly how to move his huge cock inside her; he knew every motion, every rhythm, he knew how to drive her wild with delight. The bath water spilled and frothed with their savage rocking movements. Julia could not help crying out as waves of pleasure swept through her.

Later they made love again in the bed as the last dying rays of sun spilled through the window.

"No theatre tonight?" Julia asked, enjoying the languid aftermath of great sex.

Luis's fingers stopped their play over her nipples. "I met an American today," he said softly.

"An American?" Julia came up on one arm and looked at him. She sensed something important was about to unfold. "What do you mean? Someone I know?"

He laughed and reached for a cigar. He spent some minutes lighting the end before he spoke.

"His name is Marshall and he owns a picture studio in America."

Julia felt her heart lurch. What now? She wondered. "Oh?" she said indifferently. "And what's a picture studio?"

Luis grew quite animated. "A picture studio. You know, moving pictures. They're all the rage in America. They're called movies. They even have 'talkies' these days."

"And where is this picture studio?"

"It's in California. A place called Hollywood. John Marshal wants me to go there and make a film. I'm to play an Arab of all things. The film is set in the desert and called Sands of Blood, or something like that. He's offering me the leading role."

Julia frowned. "Sounds amusing," her voice was brittle. She affected a show of profound boredom, not wanting to reveal the anxiety that crept inside. An overwhelming fear that she was about to lose Luis gripped her. "And what am I supposed to do with you away in America?"

"Well, you'll come with me, of course," Luis said.

"Will there be a role for me in this...er, what do you call it? Moving picture?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But, Julia, just think! America! Your homeland."

Julia rolled away from him. "I've no ambition to return to America, Luis," she declared. "It's never been much of a home to me."

He became thoughtful. His hand caressed her back. "Julia?" he asked with a frown, "Is there some reason why you cannot return to America?"

He saw her spine stiffen and he knew the answer before she even spoke it. "A long time ago I killed someone. I'm wanted by the police." She rolled over to face him and he saw fear in her eyes. "Oh, Luis. If I return there, they'll arrest me. I'll hang by my neck until dead."

Luis smiled reassuringly. "Whatever it was that you did, I'm sure they've forgotten all about it. There must have been a thousand murders since. America is a barbaric place, even in these days."

"But he was a prominent politician," Julia insisted. "There was quite a fuss. Billy and I got away by the skin of our teeth!"

"Billy?" The name had never been spoken between them since they had left Cuba.

"We had this sting worked out," Julia moved her arms around him, her hand caressing his shoulder. "Billy would check out some wealthy victim. We would follow him to an inn or bar, and I would flirt with the man Billy selected and lure him outside into an alleyway. Billy would hide somewhere and then knock him unconscious and we'd steal everything he had in his pockets. It was a good game, and it got us through some lean times. It was easy; it worked every time, until I met this politician. He was big and strong and he punched Billy in the face and Billy passed out cold. Then the man came at me."

Luis waited as she paused for breath. "What did you do?" he asked at last.

"I stabbed him."

"Stabbed him?"

"Yeah. I always carried a knife for protection. I shoved it into his stomach over and over again until he fell dead to the ground."

Her green eyes met Luis's. "What else could I do?"

He smiled and kissed her. "You have led such an entertaining life, Julia. One day you must write the script for a movie."

"It's no joke. Don't you see? I can't go back there. One of the reasons I came to Cuba was because I couldn't stand the strain of always looking over my shoulder. I like it here in London. I have no past here and I like that."

She gazed into his eyes. "What if I said I didn't want to go? What would you do?"

He sighed and looked away. "I intend to go to Hollywood," he said, his voice firm. "And I intend to take my wife with me. John Marshall has promised me the sum of ten thousand dollars if I take this role in his movie. With that kind of money, Julia dear, we can get the best damn lawyer in California."

Julia sighed. She had not told Luis everything. Her life in America had been one of prostitution and despair. Billy had been a cruel, manipulating lover. He had her forced her into sex with men. Every town in every state held a bad memory for her. She had done dreadful things that still haunted her in the middle of the night. She would awake sweating and shaking. Luis would cuddle and comfort her, but he had no idea. He had no idea of the hideous life she had lead, of the things she had done. Sick, shameful things.

"I don't want to go," she said, pulling the sheet around her with an angry snap. "I want to stay here."

***

The conversation had unsettled Julia. Things were not going her way and she did not like it. She liked to manipulate life. Life was not supposed to manipulate her. She had no intention of playing second fiddle to Luis in this new career of his. She began to think that divorce might be a more attractive alternative. If she divorced Luis and married Lord Rutherford she would become Lady Rutherford. She would live at Rutherford House and have a dozen servants catering to her every whim. She could order a hundred different gowns every day, one in every colour of the rainbow. She could hold parties every night if she wished. And Howie doted on her. He was totally captivated.

She sighed. So what if Howie's penis was no bigger than his thumb? So what if he climaxed after only a few seconds? So what if his legs were thin and spindly? So what if his buttocks had the appearance of cottage cheese? There were plenty of young, vigorous men around. She would find a REAL man to satisfy her. Maybe a servant or stable hand? She'd find someone. She would have to. Good, satisfying sex was vital to her very existence.

The next afternoon she lay in bed next to Howie Rutherford. She had visited his luxurious Mayfair lodgings and he had given her yet another gift - diamond eardrops. The sex had been as unsatisfying as usual.

"I've been thinking about your proposition," she said stretching.

"What proposition?" he asked.

"Why, divorce, silly. I'm ready to divorce Luis. His jealousy is becoming too much to bear."

Howie smiled. His hair was thin and balding and he scratched at his shiny pink scalp. "My dear, that is good news. I hated the thought of you with that monster. Never worry. I will finance the settlement, Julia. I have an excellent solicitor. And then we can be together."

She smiled smugly and cuddled his scrawny body. "What is your home like?" she asked with excitement, "Is there a ballroom? I love to dance. We can hold weekend parties, Howie. Invite the cream of society. I can be quite the hostess, you know."

Lord Rutherford frowned, his thin lips turning down in dismay. "What on earth are you talking about?" he asked.

She laughed again. "Oh, Howie! I'm talking about when we are married. When we take up residence together at your country estate."

He sat up from the pillows, his bony shoulders set and tense. "Good Grief, my dear. I could never marry you! A divorced woman? Christ! What would mother say?" His voice was sharp. "It's just not done in my society. Whatever are you thinking?"

Julia stared flabbergasted. Hot anger rose quickly and she spun on him, her eyes on fire. "Goddamn you, Howie!" she yelled. She wanted to rake her fingernails across his foolish homely face. "What was all this about then? You've been after me to get a divorce from the first we met. I thought you wanted to marry me?"

He blinked rapidly. "Now, I never mentioned marriage, dear. Not once. I just wanted you for myself. I never liked the idea of you going home to that brute of a husband."

Julia flung herself from the bed and began pulling on her clothes. Her fingers shook with rage. "I thought you loved me! You said it often enough. Obviously I've been wasting my time!"

"I do love you, honestly I do."

She stopped the mad process of pulling her clothes onto her body and spun on him. Her angry eyes narrowed. "Then why won't you marry me?" she demanded.

He stammered and stumbled, aware that he had hurt her. "I'm sorry, darling," he sputtered. "But a divorced woman? Well, it's just not done in high society. If you were a widow…if your husband were dead, well, then it would be different."

She laughed dryly. "So, in your fancy dancy society, a grieving widow is considered permissible as a wife but a divorced woman is not?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Howie gaped at her stupidly. "But…but your husband is not dead, is he?"

Julia slipped her feet into her shoes. "Not yet," she murmured. "But it can be arranged." She stomped from the room, slamming the door behind her. "Yes, it can be arranged," she said to herself as she headed home.