The sound of the doorbell ended their discussion, and Victoria sat back, waiting for Nigel's reaction. When he stayed, looking down at the top of the table, she shrugged resignedly and went to answer the door.

"Hi Victoria," Susan stood bubbling on the door step, her gauzy, flower print dress clutching at the back of her legs from the breeze, "here's the list... is uh, Nigel here?"

"Sure, c'mon in Susan, he's in the kitchen." She followed the young woman down the hall toward the bright space.

"Nigel, hi!"

"Susan." He glanced past her to his aunt, who ignored the look and went to the coffee pot.

"I just made some coffee," she said, emptying the basket, "would you like a cup? We're going to have ours out on the deck."

"Sounds delish. I'd like to hear what you think of our choices, Nigel, they took quite a while to make." She helped Victoria with the coffee and followed Nigel to the sliding doors of the deck, "I thought we'd never agree on some of them." Susan set the tray on the glass table and helped herself to one of the mugs, bringing one to Nigel and settling beside him on the lounge.

Nigel casually removed himself to the patio table, pleading the need for space to examine the list. It was all neatly typed and organized on a sheet of Ashton Hills, town stationery, a product of the efficient Amanda, he suspected, with the character's names down one column on the left, and the chosen actor on the right.

"I see Mrs. Osborne was selected for Thelma O'Brien's part after all." Nigel smiled to himself, having used her as his model for the role of the promiscuous wife.

"She actually seemed quite willing to take on the part. Daryl was a little upset though." Susan sat on the edge of the lounge cradling her coffee mug in both hands.

"And Benbow went to Milo. Why am I not surprised?" He tossed Victoria a smirk for her design of that particular character.

"It's funny you know, that was a unanimous choice. Even Daryl voted for Milo, and you heard him the other night." Susan got up and stood behind Nigel at the table. "I want to know what you think of my character." Her voice hinted disappointment.

Nigel traced his finger down the list until he found her name and read across. "Mary Woo." He bit his lip and avoided Victoria's challengingly innocent look. "Well it certainly isn't a role any of the others could handle." His neck hairs rose as she leaned over his shoulder. "I mean, aside from the fact that she's uh, ethnic, she uh, shares the same uhmm, enthusiasm and vitality as you... I uh- I think it's a good choice. A good part." He sat dead still, dreading her reaction, stunned when she gave out with her trademark "Eeeeeew!" and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh golly Nigel, I'm so pleased you think that. I just know I'll do justice to the part. It's almost like you wrote it with me in mind!"

"Yes. Well ..."

Susan wiggled in her invisible hula-hoop and kissed his cheek. "Look at the rest. See what you think of them."

As planned, and predicted, the roles went to exactly the right people. Victoria sighed contentedly and sipped her coffee, her eyes closing slowly as she let her thoughts drift in a waltz of complete rapture.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Susan set her mug down and went to Victoria, taking her hands with excited affection, "The council wants you to consider being our dialogue coach. You and Nigel seem to work together so well, I'm sure, as director, he'd love to have you there helping." She bounced around between the two of them, her flimsy dress wrapping and unwrapping about her legs.

"Director!" Nigel felt his armpits dampen. "I thought- I mean- I'm just the author. I could consult with the director, but-"

"Oh no! Everyone wants you to direct. After all, it's your vision." Susan clasped her hands in front of her breast and twirled with an unreserved abandon, the dress sailing high enough to expose the tip of her underwear.

"Veronica..." Nigel croaked.

"I think it's a marvelous idea, dear. Who better to breath the fire and life into one's writing than the author himself."

"Super! You'll do it then?" Susan stood at ease arms stretched out and up, facing the setting sun, her back to Nigel, whose tongue dried up suddenly, sticking to the roof of his mouth as he gaped at her exposed figure silhouetted through her dress. With a mischievous glint, Victoria suggested that Nigel walk Susan to her car, amused by the panic in his frozen face.

The cloak of dusk arrived quickly as the sun sank below the dense tree line behind the house. Nigel looked achingly at the streetlight next to the driveway, praying it would come on and chase the deepening shadows from in front of the house.

"This is all so exciting," Susan bubbled, clutching his arm as they stood next to her car, "I can't wait for rehearsals to begin."

"Let me get the door for you." Nigel fumbled at the handle with his free hand, gingerly trying to wrest the other from her grasp.

"Nigel," her voice dropped to a warm whisper, "about the other night-"

He felt his body tense, "Let's just forget about that. It was a- a..."

"I can't forget about it." She pressed against him pushing him into the car door opening, "I don't want to forget about it."

Nigel braced himself on the frame, bending to gain some space between them. "Susan, listen..." She stepped closer and he lost his grip, falling backwards into the car, his legs stretched clumsily on either side of hers. "Susan! Think about what you're doing- about Victor!"

"I can't." Her voice matched her dreamy, almost hypnotic expression, as she knelt on the edge of the seat, pinioning the material of his trousers against the soft leather.

He tugged his legs apart to free his pants, panicking as she wiggled closer with one hand bracing her body on the seat back, the other on the steering wheel.

"Sus-"

Her head dipped down showering his in a cascade of long black hair that felt like silky spider webs across his cheeks. He sucked in his breath, filling his nose and lungs with the sweet scent of lilac, then her soft lips found his and he froze, tasting the hint of cherry from her lipstick. The seat back groaned as her arm slid down beside his shoulder and he felt the gentle prod of her breasts against his chest increase in pressure as she let her entire body collapse on top of him.

"Su-mmph," the attempt to protest allowed her tongue to sneak past the defense of his lips, setting off a clanging of internal bells and alarms. He tried pushing it out with his own but instead, stoked the fire that was obviously consuming his attacker, with the unsettling realization that he was experiencing sensations of urgency as well.

The streetlight snapped on, flooding the car with its amber glow, startling them both. Susan's balance shifted and her hand slid down pressing against the horn, setting off a hiccupping din that sent them both into a frenzy of thrashing limbs trying to scramble out of the car. A porch light popped on next door, and they both ducked down beside the car, knees bumping, and hands on one another's arms for support.

"Susan- my god, you've got to get control of yourself." He whispered hoarsely, peering over the sill of the window to see if anyone had come outside.

"I want you to control me." She panted, blasting his senses with another volley of lilac, her inkwell eyes glinting in the light of the streetlamp.

His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, as he stared at the creamy contour of her cheek not in shadow, and the edge of her slightly parted, red lips. This has gone far enough, he thought, shifting his weight to stand up then squatting quickly again to conceal the result of her effect on him.

"Susan please, I- I think you'd better go before- before somebody sees us out here." He wracked his brain to think of something bad or sad or whatever, to alleviate his uncomfortable condition, horrified to think what her reaction might be if he stood up.

"You're right." She stood up, straightened her dress and swept her hair back with a haughty air, striding around to the driver's door and climbing into the car.

Nigel gaped curiously at the spot where she had been then rose up high enough to peer into the car. The engine roared to life, headlights struck the front of the garage by surprise, and she yanked the gearshift into reverse, blowing a tender kiss, a brilliant smile and a cheery wave as she shot back down the drive, shifted again and roared off down the street leaving him, still squatting, in the driveway, a situation that was becoming a distressing habit.