Our Duet

A classy cougar anthro transformation, as delivered by a 'stripéd star of stage and screen' to 'our intrepid tresspasser' as she explores a run-down theater. Mature.

Oh darling, come in, come in. Do forgive the dust, it’s been ages, simply ages. Always a delight to meet an appreciator of the arts. What else could have called you to the Starlight Odeon? Don’t try to deny it, I see the sparkle in your eyes.

Sweep your light over red carpet and gilded balustrade. Pause a moment and admire the playbills. Look, past the curling edges and faded color, to the smiles and scowls, the lavish costumes, the storied names… ‘The magnificent Xandra, mistress of the mind, mesmerizes and mystifies weeky.’ ‘Don’t miss the irresistible comedy sensation – Dames and Molls, starring Myna Markova and Augusta Sullivan, live!’ ‘Exclusive, exceptional, exquisite! Musical performance by Josephine DeMille, stripéd star of stage and screen. Two nights, only at the Starlight Odeon.’

Why, who could that ravishing tigress be…? That little smile curling your lips, the flash of recognition—are we a fan of my work? Or just a fan of my looks, perhaps. Oh my, a camera? You’re not with the press, are you? I kid, I kid. You’re here looking for atmosphere, for beauty. Snap as many shots as you like. It’s a flattering illustration to be sure, though I’m far more stunning in person. You’ll see soon enough, darling, but the night is young and there’s much more to see.

This way, this way. Don’t mind the floorboards, you’d creak too if you were as old. The box office here, the coat check there. Imagine for a moment: conversation warm and bubbling beneath the sparkling chandelier, the quiet hum of oboe and string as the orchestra tunes like the softness of slumber ushering you into a dream. Close your eyes, and you can just feel the anticipation, in spite of how many years have passed.

And through these doors—give them a push, dear—right through these doors, there it is, where dreams come true: the Starlight’s stage. Do forgive the state of things; the ceiling plaster’s seen better days, no one’s swept the aisles in ages; the seats are only filled with memory now. But what memories they are! Can you feel them? They’re still here, still waiting for the curtain to rise, for the show to go on.

Shine your flashlight on the stage: a little spotlight of your own. All you’d need is for the curtains to part, for someone to walk out onto center stage and say, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome…”

Pay no mind to the chill sliding down your spine. Those memories are stirring from their sleep, drawn back to the waking world by your wandering mind. That’s the magic of theater, darling, spinning dreams into truth, whether you’re on the stage or in front of it.

Take out that camera of yours. See how the curtains draw the eye to center stage, read the rhythm of the crumbling tiles, capture the varnished box seats tanned to leather-black with age. Look past the unkind years, past mere reality, and see the truth underneath. There’s that glimmer in your eyes again. Ah, to meet a fellow artist!

I can’t help but notice, darling, your lens is always turned outwards. All these pictures of the Starlight, and not one of you. There’s truth and beauty in all the world around you, yet none in yourself? I suppose you are a shy young thing. Perhaps you haven’t noticed. Perhaps you haven’t found anyone yet who could see it in you. How fortunate that you found me.

And how fortunate that I’ve found such an admirer! Of course you’re thinking about me still. I can feel it in the weight of the shoes on my feet, the rise and fall of my chest, the swish of my hair. When you’ve lived so long in memory, you miss the little delights of being real.

Come now, let’s be off. There’s only so much you can see from here. I can’t imagine a curious girl like yourself would be satisfied with a few pictures from the seats. I’d love to give you a backstage tour. This way, up the stairs, around the corner—

Oh? Is our intrepid trespasser daunted by a few dark corridors? You needn’t worry, the most dreadful thing that stalks the halls is me, and you’re already on my good side. Since you’ve been so gracious, have a bit of warmth to quell those goosebumps and quiet the shivers.

There we are, darling. Now this way, this way…no, those are the bathrooms. This way.

Move aside the velvet rope. Don’t mind the No Public Admittance sign; you’re my personal guest. On your left you’ll find the storerooms for the orchestra. Rather empty now; too pricey to be left behind . On your right, the offices, where they put the business in show business. If any part of the Starlight is truly haunted, that’s it. I suppose they did keep me in satin and stole, but I spent as little time there as I could.

Are we done ogling the typewriters? Wonderful.

Next we have the props and sets. Façade and fakery, nothing but scaffolding and papier mâché. But aren’t we all? A few columns draped with red velvet and you’ve got a temple, a forum, a senate; a few layers of fluttering cellophane and you’ve a stormy sea or the fires of hell. A set of stripes, a glittering dress, a sultry purr, and you’re a star. It doesn’t matter how fake it feels back here, the stage turns it more true than life.

Now, darling, to the best part of our tour: the changing rooms. Linger a moment in the large rooms with their lines of mirrors and stools if you must, but the pièce de resistance is here: the personal rooms for the star performers. Why, this one still has a name on it. Josephine DeMille. You needn’t even ask, I’d be simply delighted to show you in.

As soon as you open the door. Come now, where’s that curiosity of yours? Wouldn’t you just love to learn more about me? To make me more real? If I may be so bold, and pardon the chill, darling… Take your hand like so. Place it on the doorknob. Turn, and push… That’s it. Now, in you go.

At last! Welcome to my pied-à-terre here at the Starlight. Step across the silk carpet; see the framed posters, each an unforgettable performance; lie back on the velvet couch—or better yet, sit down in front of the vanity. Rest your legs a moment. Do you see that bottle there? Pick it up, brush off the dust. What an enchanting shade of red. Wouldn’t it look just lovely on your nails?

Yes, spread your fingers. Lay your hand on the table lest you tremble. Have you never painted your nails before? My, you are a little tomcat. Smooth strokes from base to tip. Careful not to smudge them as you switch hands. Pay no mind to that tingle. Just lay them out while they dry and grow, and take a look in the mirror—

Oh! Why hello, darling. How good of you to notice me.

No need for alarm, it’s just my reflection. I’m sure the rest of me will be along shortly. No no, no need to get up, you must wait for your nails to finish, I insist. What am I doing? Why, giving my young admirer a tour of the Starlight Odeon, of course. And perhaps a bit of a makeover. If you can find truth and beauty in this old theater, surely this old tiger can find it in you.

Ah, look: the tawny fur sliding down your arms, the crimson claws curling from your fingertips. Now hush, and pucker up so I can get this lipstick on. Just a touch and you’re already growing whiskers. We mustn’t dawdle if we want you ready for your debut. Ah, the red makes your lips just pop, darling. And that handsome chin and snout you’re sprouting—why, I think you’re becoming a cougar! A woman after my own heart.

You simply must sit still, or you’ll make a mess of my work. Don’t worry, darling. I won’t have you looking anything less than perfect for our duet.

Of course, a duet! How better to make your big debut than side-by-side with Josephine DeMille, on stage at the prestigious Starlight Odeon? Now, stop fussing, I almost got mascara in your eye.

You need to sit back, relax, and look. Look into the mirror, into those captivating amber eyes. Look long and deep, past the shy young woman, to the gorgeous coquette underneath. Don’t you want to hear the deep husky voice spilling from those ruby lips? To run your fingers through that luxurious chest fur? Don’t you just want to be her? Keep looking, keep wanting. The more you think of her, the more real she becomes. Let free every last desire you’ve held in. You can have it all, just trust me. Making dreams come true is my profession, after all.

Let’s finish you up. Mustn’t keep our audience waiting. Even out the mascara, add a lick of eye shadow. The makeup may add a few years; don’t think of it as growing older, think of it as growing more mature and sophisticated. This hair won’t do, it’s too fine, and when’s the last time you brushed it? Let it grow thicker, longer, richer, that’s the ticket.

Oh—and where did this pearl necklace come from? You must have come up with that yourself, darling. Absolutely fetching, absolutely you. And speaking of things large, round, and utterly ostentatious, your chest, ah! A balcony you could do Shakespeare from. I promise I’m not thumbing the scale—you’re the one doing the dreaming. All of this, from your snout to the tip of your tail, is you. Why, you’ve already picked out your new wardrobe! Terribly rude, to deprive me of the chance to strip you down to nothing but your pelt. We’ll just have to wait until after the show.

Now come along, darling. Don’t want to be late for your big debut.

…Darling?

You can stop admiring yourself any time you’re ready. I know you’re positively entrancing, but… Ah, still lost in your own eyes? Look this way. No, just…turn your head… Stubborn as ever, are we? There. What a delight to see each other face to face at last! No more whispering over your shoulder and skulking around in mirrors.

Hah, yes, good evening to you too, darling. Shall we get going? We don’t want to miss our cue.

This way, this way. Pardon us. Mind the stagehands, darling, it can be a touch busy backstage. Why, of course they’re here now. You can hardly put on a show without a crew. We’ll want to stand there when the curtain comes up, but come over here to the side for a moment. Tug the curtain back and take a peek.

Now that’s the Starlight I remember. Packed with people, full of eager eyes, ready to see dreams made real on one of the most prestigious stages in Hollywood. They’re here for the same reason as the crew—because of you, darling. Not just for that luxurious purr or because you’ve got legs for days. They’re here because you breathed life back into their memories, because you believe in beauty, in art, in the Starlight Odeon.

I know, oh I know, your heart’s a-flutter right now. You can’t help but think what might go wrong. Did you know that I (yes, even the great Josephine DeMille!) feel a flicker of fear in my chest every time I step on stage? Putting on a performance, making art, simply being can be mortifying. But the audience out there, what they want is truth. What they want is you. Give them that, and you can’t go wrong.

Here, a kiss for good luck..

Mm. Mmh. Oh, darling, you’re incorribigle. Ohh. We musn’t, not now.

Because we’ll be on any minute now and we can’t be out of breath. We’ll have plenty of time after. For now, the duet. Fluff your chest fur a little. You didn’t muss my hair, did you? Take a deep breath, snff-ahh. And five, four, three, two, one…

The lights come on. The curtains go up. Take my hand—it’s tine for our duet.