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I had cast my King Edward and my Prince of Wales. But I could NOT find a good match for Richard himself. I needed an actor with confidence. An actor with a force of personality, with Gravitas, an actor who could not merely play Richard on a stage, but one who could BECOME Richard. Okay, really I mostly just needed ONE male actor who could tear his eyes from my K-cup breasts for long enough to read a line. As the next one stepped up to the stage I snickered as I read his name. “Uh, Richard, you will be reading for the part of Richard. From the beginning of the monologue on page 10.” He began to recite: “Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York; And all the clouds that lowered upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his. It was a fine dinner, so it was,’ said Molly, getting up and extending her hand to Sharyn. Sharyn took Molly’s hand, stood, and they walked to the stateroom holding hands. Margarethe looked at the floor. ‘Good night,’ she muttered. ************************* Dark night of the soul, what a bloody cliché, thought Margarethe. But it was three o’clock in the morning. Margarethe tried to go back to sleep, but it was hopeless. Jenny was sleeping like a child, her hands folded and brought up to her face, her little body curled neatly, a good baby. Margarethe kissed her forehead, gently, so as not to waken her. Margarethe remembered, just before the second (or was it the third) Cognac took effect, how her earlier vision came true. Sharyn was always a screamer and a squirter. ‘Molleeeee, Molleeee, aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!’ Sure enough, thought Margarethe, my ship, my stateroom, my new clean bedding, my strap-on and my lube, and my damn woman. Molly didn’t scream, but the sound of body against body was.
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