A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews.
The sex scene between Spencer and Marisol went well in the end. It was still awkward as fuck, with all the people watching, being practically naked, with someone you don't want to get naked with. But Jennifer was still a hot girl, and so when Finn had gotten a flash of nipple and a whiff of her vag his body had taken over. It was totally embarrassing. They had to cut, and call a recess so Finn could 'cool off'.
Finn was ready to shoot ropes by the time he got home. He'd showered, but felt guilty none the less. Your body doesn't get how fake it all is, and for it to look real, you need to go through the motions as much as possible. Puck was out so he'd gone to Mercedes' place. Because It was Monday night so Santana was already home. Finn arranged take away for dinner while Santana gave him the third degree. She wanted to know all the details. Did he like it? Was he turned on?
Honesty didn't seem like a good policy concerning the particulars.
"I like you," He stated simply, "I want you."
Her face had softened, and her dimple indented in her cheek. Finn had taken her hands and led Santana into her bedroom. After a marathon round of desperate loving making with him pinning her to the mattress with his body whispering in her ear that he wanted her, only her, Santana had calmed down.
They came back out and ate their now cold Chinese food. Santana had been practicing her audition piece, adding fine touches, drilling her vocal exercises. She showed him.
"If you play it too safe, you end up looking like everybody else… it's like Groundhog Day for the casting panel," Santana announced striking her opening pose, a sideways lunge on a wooden dining chair. "I'm going for memorable."
Her mouth curled up on one side, she winked deviously, and nodded for him to start her music.
She was so commanding and theatrical, every movement was sexy. Her voice, perfect. Unapologetic, powerful and commanding. She'd made that chair a focal point for the routine. She leaned on it, balanced it on an angle, two legs in the air, grinded against it seductively. Finn shouldn't have been able to get aroused again so fast, but get wood he did. She was all in black. Shear tights, booty shorts and a camisole, she was able to pull it off in a pair of red heeled dance shoes, the only color in her ensemble. It was exceedingly clever, you couldn't help but have your eye constantly drawn to her shoes, and her rockin' legs by proxy.
When she'd finished, Santana raised her eyebrow suggestively, and huskily and whispered, "What do you think?"
Finn's response was to grab her and kiss her, and lay her down on the table. They both remembered Mercedes was home and went back in to her room. Santana had other ideas for round 2. She'd gone all Sally Bowls on him that time, and he'd loved every second of it. There was something about how she dominated him that was so unbelievably fucking hot. Like he wanted to say 'Yes, mistress!' to her spanking his ass with a ruler, if she had on a sexy librarian outfit. Oh, man!
))))
It was now Thursday. Finn had actually finished at Paramount at a reasonable hour and managed to get to the airport for a 7 pm flight. It was a five and a half hour flight, but with the time difference it would seem more like eight hours. Santana caught an earlier flight with most of their luggage so she could check them in. It was very early on Friday morning before Finn texted her that he had arrived. And she came down to escort him up to their suite. For some crazy reason the reception was up on the eighth floor.
The carpet had a busy pattern and there was a lot of furniture and it wasn't all white, sanitized and matching as he'd imagined most motels to be like. But Finn was too exhausted to take in anymore. He asked Santana if they could just sleep tonight, and maybe fell asleep before she could reply.
))))))))))))))))))))
Friday morning. Showtime. They were about ready to leave the motel room. Finn had some advice for Santana he got from Reginald Ayers, the actor playing his Dad on B&B. "His secret to auditioning is to, 'go in there, like you don't need the job, but you are excited about it, because you want to do it.'" Finn relayed his mentor's wisdom.
"I do need the job," Santana reminded him.
Finn was ready for her to say that, "That's why you need to put your wonderful acting skills to good use, and pretend you don't."
Her face said he wasn't helping.
Santana was pulling out a pocket mirror every few minutes to keep checking her appearance as if somehow, she thought a strand of hair would have gone out of place since she last checked. She nervously strummed her fingers on her thigh.
Finn had packed lots of drinks, especially water. They needed to stay hydrated. He also had plenty of snacks. They were about to leave when Santana, who was being extra jumpy turned to him and suddenly announced, "I want to go by myself."
Finn felt annoyed, "Why? It could be hours."
"It's not that I don't want you there," She decided to just come out with it, "Velma don't need no man, and so… I gotta go it alone."
He wanted to be there, but he could see what she was saying. Finn thought on it before nodding slowly, "If that's what you want."
"It is." Santana strutted up to him, very seductively, before leaning in to kiss him… except she didn't, instead murmuring, "I intend to make it up to you tonight."
Then she really did peck him.
Breathe slowly and shallowly.
She had gone for bright red lipstick that matched the shoes, as another way of making her stand out. And now he'd probably smudged it. Santana must have had the same thought, because she pulled out the mirror and began touching up her make-up, again.
"Can I text you at least?"
She smiled warmly, "You'd better!".
))))))
Finn sent Rachel a supportive good luck text. Which prompted her to call him. He didn't answer though. He was nervous and he didn't want to talk to her. That was boyfriend territory, and he wasn't her boyfriend. He texted Rachel back that he'd talk to her tonight, after. She texted back a very short acceptance of his wishes. A couple of hours later, Rachel sent him an 'I'm up next' message. He sent her more well wishes. Kurt also texted him much the same thing.
))))))))))))))))))))))) Santana POV ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
[Santana voiceover] Everything is the audition. From the moment you arrive. Even if you are standing outside freezing your ass off down Broadway and 64th Street, someone will be watching.
She was out the front of the theatre from 8 am, waiting for her audition slot. There was a long line into the street. Santana wasn't even in the building yet. The scantily clad performers, some bouncing nervously, others stretching, others warming up their voices were everywhere and it was unsettling. Rachel was much further up in the queue because, no doubt Little Miss Type A had been first to register, and she had her Pet Gay along for moral support.
Santana had spent the last two weeks doing her research. She'd read the original play by Maurine Dallas Watkins, then watched previous performances of Chicago, the original Broadway arrangement and the revival. Whatever she could find, she read about the real-life woman Velma Kelly was based on, and about Chicago in the 1920s, anything to give her an edge. She re-did her social media accounts in a way that screamed that she literally was Velma Kelly. She wanted to put her best foot forward.
She got new head shots done, attuned to Broadway, but easy on the make-up, apparently they don't like it when your picture is so glammed up, they don't recognize you in person. And Santana re-did her resume for greater Broadway appeal. She'd been in two high school productions, Anita in West Side Story, and Rizzo in Grease, they didn't need to know she had already graduated when she'd played Rizzo as a last-minute sub. She may have accidently on purpose 'typo-ed' in the resume to make it look that happened in Junior Year. And then there was a lot of white blank space. Show Choir National Champs might impress them, but she had no NYADA student, no real life anything, not even community theatre. She didn't think cheerleading national titles three years out of four in high school sent the right vibe, but she added it anyway, it proved she could dance. Chicago was dark, the characters manipulative, these were sexy, dangerous women, not conventional, people pleasers. She'd been practicing her monologue, and paying particular attention to an authentic Chicagoan accent.
))))))))))))))))))))))))) RACHEL POV)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
[Rachel voice over]
The secret to any audition is to remember that you only have about 30 seconds to make an impression. They have my resume and head shot.
The casting panel at an open call will likely have been seeing people for hours before they get to you, and hours afterwards. You need to stand out. I try not to talk to people in the line, I like to keep my total focus. I warm up my voice when I am 20 auditions away, then keep it warm by humming. Kurt has a thermos of my herbal tea, and I have been very careful for days about everything I eat and touch. I dress to impress without going over the top. Except for my hair. Today, I am sporting a full 1920s flapper hairstyle, with wavy curls.
Like I said, I need to stand out.
I have picked the right audition song for Roxie and have practiced it all week.
And finally, it's my turn.
"Audition 4563" A disinterested voice called, "Hit the stage."
The casting panel consists of Pete Shaw, famed for his restaging of Oliver Twist, he's directing. Andrea Stremeski, the head of the Broadway Alumni Association, she's likely a major donor in the production. Daniel Clothier the artistic director, he dresses shabbily, and is described as reserved, but has a reputation for creative brilliance. The young and very easy on the eyes, Roger Starhall, he's the choreographer, and the young woman, with dark har, I don't know. She is well groomed, and appears serious.
[voiceover] At a Broadway open call, you don't say what role you are after, but your choice of song should make it clear. Gwen Verdon was nearly fifty when she originally played 26 year-old Roxie Hart. So while Roxie incorporates a sexy, charm into all her vocal performances, it's not the most physically demanding role.
I have extra copies of everything, should anyone ask me. My music has been cut to 32 bars exactly, made on fresh sheet music, I don't want to risk the accompanist, who will be sight reading, messing up and making me look bad.
I wait until the panel indicate they are ready. I stand center stage with my hands on my hips. Superwoman pose. Because I can do anything.
"I'm Rachel Berry, and I'll be singing 'Maybe this time' from Cabaret."
The piano plays my intro.
"Everybody loves a winner
So nobody loved me,"
I've been practicing this song and my monologue for nearly a month, and everything from Chicago itself. I could do it in my sleep.
"'Lady Peaceful', 'Lady Happy, '
That's what I long to be
[voiceover] For me, I just think about how my life depends on this role, if I get this, I'll make a name for myself. A Broadway star doesn't need to obsess over her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend, even if she is the biggest bitch alive.
"All the odds are… they're in my favor,
Something's bound to begin…"
[voiceover] My years singing lessons attuned specifically to Broadway really pay off at times like these.
"All the odds are, they're in my favor
Something's bound to give in,
It's got to happen, happen sometime"
This song takes me back to sophomore year, when I was playing Sally Bowls in Cabaret. When Finn was running lines with me…
This is a sad song. Sally, is desperate, disappointed. I tear up, as if my life hangs on the audience crying at my heartbreak.
I'm flawless.
"Maybe this time I'll win
Maybe this time, I'll," You can do this, "win-."
[voiceover] I strike my final pose, Superwoman again, I hope they can appreciate the symmetry. And I wait for the panel to indicate they know I am done, and write their notes about how remarkable I was down.
"Thank you…" Daniel said, giving me a little nod. He checked his sheet, readjusting his glasses so he can remember my name, "Rachel."
Andrea spoke, "You have a very nice voice."
Nice.
It feels like a slap in the face. Nice!
"Do you have your monologue ready?"
[voiceover] The monologue is limited to two pages, and I picked from the play or musical itself. I've chosen the Alone monologue, where Roxie talks about how she's always been trying to make it, dating a bootlegger, being rejected over and over, before meeting Amos, who's a sweet zero in the bedroom department, and so Roxie explains how she came to be knockin' boots with Fred on the side.
When I'm done, I return to center stage and wait patiently.
Andrea removed her glasses, "Do you have any questions for us?"
[voiceover] This is a trick question. Asking questions right now can be perceived as egotistical or that you will be difficult to work with.
"No, I'm Rachel Berry, and I thank you for this opportunity," I look each panel member in the eye and smile, before leaving quietly.
How do you like my humility?
[voiceover] I sang that song perfectly. I literally don't have anything left to give.
"Well, thank you," Says Pete Shaw.
His face doesn't give anything away. But I know I blew it out of the water, and that will be enough for now.
It's all over now. I wonder where Finn and Santana are? Because this isn't my only acting job today.
))))
Finn had gone to Empire State Building, alone. The view from the 100 and something-th floor was incredible, but he was finding it hard to relax and enjoy. He wanted to know how it was with the open call. He sent her a text, 'What's the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms?'
Santana texted back, 'WTF?'
'One's a Good Year and one's a GREAT year!'
She caught onto what he was doing now.
'What did the elephant ask the naked man?' She sent to him.
'?'
'How do you breathe out of that thing?'
Finn texted back the laughing emoji. 'Are you looking for a STUD?'
'Maybe…?' She followed it up with the constipated looking emoji.
'Cos I got an STD right here, I just need U'
'GROSSE! Not touching you EVER again!'
'No fair!' Before he got another one 'I asked my partner if I was the only one she's been with. And she said "Yes, the others were at last sevens or eights"'
'LOL!' She wrote back before adding 'What does the sign on the out-of-business brothel say?'
Finn thought on that, 'Don't cum inside?'
'Nice try, it says "BEAT IT, WE'RE CLOSED!"'
He ran out of dirty jokes before she did.
'How R U feeling?' He finally asked what he actually wanted to know.
Her response was, 'I'd be fine if everyone else wasn't so damn annoying, if they aren't jittery and off putting, they are madly trying to rehearse. SERIOUSLY! If you don't have it by now, YOU DON'T HAVE IT!'
Finn chuckled, even though it was just words on his cell phone display, he could imagine exactly how she would have delivered them in person. He encouraged, 'U R gonna be great!'
'Im gon' B DUCKING awesome!' before madly adding 'Damn autocorrect- censoring me!'
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) SANTANA POV ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
The girl in front of Santana looked like she hadn't eaten in six months, she was that skeletal. Her wispy fake blonde hair was out, and she was bouncing up and down like a junkie at a rave. But like… a silent one, where only she could hear the music. So fucking off putting!
Said junkie started flailing her arms behind her, and almost hit Santana in the face.
"Hell no!" Santana immediately took charge.
The junkie had headphones in, so of course didn't notice a damn thing! Count to 10, don't hit the smack head, DON'T hit the SMACK HEAD!
As if shit couldn't get any worse… Grandma Berry and Lady Hummel came over, arm in arm, now relieved. Santana broke out of her rage, before she could turn into the incredible Hulk. Hobbit had gone for a figure-hugging black dress that showcased her legs, with opaque black hose, and a modest heeled black dance shoe. Her hair was styled like Renee Zellweger's had been in the movie, an effective touch. But Rachel was still Rachel, she'd have more chance of pulling off Maria Von Trapp than Roxie Hart.
Santana made eye contact with Kurt, silently begging him to keep on walking. And he did. Solid. "Come on, Rachel," He signaled, "Santana needs to focus."
Berry blatantly ignored him, she glanced around, desperately hoping to eye sex Finn. She couldn't even pretend not to be disappointed when she realized Santana was alone. It was worth asking Finn to stay away just for that look of disappointment on her face.
))))))
Finally, Santana was at the side of the theatre, nearly in the door. Minding her own business, when a freaking heeled dance shoe just about stabbed her. Inconsiderate dancer, in full fucking flapper costume that belonged on the Vegas strip, decided to stretch by sticking her leg up against the brick wall an inch from Santana's face. She stepped back and was sure she must have been pulling an appalled face.
"I'm Dani," Another blonde woman, tanned with dark roots was suddenly in her face, with a smiling kind round face and really dark eyes. "I'm auditioning for Roxie."
Santana was pulled from her concentrated stink eye, "Oh, hey… um… Santana."
Dani gestured at the over-the-top flapper with her eyes, "Broadway open calls, there's no place like 'em."
"Like no place, I know!" Santana finished the show biz saying.
"I play guitar," Dani offered, for no apparent reason, "I also write my own stuff."
Santana stood arms crossed, unsure why Dani thought she'd care.
"I'm trying to form a band," Dani was suddenly handing her a flyer for another audition.
"Oh," Santana held it, but didn't look at the bit of paper.
"We're looking for another singer, what's your range?"
"Mezzo," Santana answered automatically, do I want to be in a band? She'd never really thought about it. "What kind of music?"
"Soul meets, hip hop, meets, pop, meets RnB."
"Delightful," Santana knew she sounded fake as fuck, but Dani didn't seem to take a hint.
But standing around is boring, so they fell into easy conversation for quite a while. Santana couldn't really commit to the band audition since she didn't live here, but she wished Dani luck. She did seem like a cool person.
"How long are you going to be in New York?" The blonde asked, and Santana was picking up on gay vibes, the eyeliner was putting up rainbow flags.
"Oh, just the weekend, unless I somehow get called back."
"Are you looking to party?" Dani asked sweetly, "I've got a bout tonight, but I'm free tomorrow… I know a really cool alternative club."
"A bout?" Santana mocked, "Do you moonlight as a boxer?"
"No, I play roller derby."
Definitely a les!
Santana was enjoying the attention, but she knew she should stop this in its tracks. But she didn't want to admit to having a boyfriend. Dani had correctly picked she was into girls, and Dani looked kind, not Brittany-beautiful, but she was sexy.
"I'm seeing someone."
"All good."
))))))
6 hours later.
[Santana voiceover] The guy who invented the Meisner technique of acting said, 'Acting is behaving truthfully under imaginary circumstances.' He meant that what people relate to, is when you play the truth of a situation, even though it isn't really happening to you. That's what the audience fall in love with. And that's what I love about performing.
I've always been good under pressure because I keep it simple. Nothing has changed if there's two people out there or 100,000. The song is still the same, the stage has the same dimensions, the chair I'm using for a prop isn't going anywhere…
"Auditioner 8639."
Party time!
[voiceover] I don't walk straight onto the stage, I come down into the seating, and shake hands with the casting panel and introduce myself individually.
Santana hadn't gone the signature Fosse Bowler hat, that wasn't Velma, she wouldn't do anything to mess with her hair. The bob hairstyle Velma typically sports, was a sign of independence for women at the time. Santana wasn't going to cut her hair for an audition, but she had pinned her hair in a way they could imagine what she'd look like with a flapper do.
Santana wore a toned-down version of the outfit the Glee girls had performed the Cell Block Tango in, with a more revealing neckline. Velma would showcase her moneymakers.
And with that Santana strutted onto that stage, and arranged her chair how she wanted it. With the backrest facing the panel. When she was happy everything was where she needed it to be, Santana turned to stage front.
Velma Kelly is sexy and she gets what she wants. The more boners I give this casting panel, the more I win!
"I'm Santana Lopez, and I'll be singing 'Mein Herr' from Cabaret."
[voiceover] This is the perfect song to audition for Velma. Not only was Cabaret set in the late '20s, but Sally Bowls was very similar to Velma Kelly, they are both Vaudeville entertainers, very sexual and flighty, manipulative and highly charming.
Santana had found a way to incorporate both iconic Liza Minnelli chair moves into the performance. It was important to show she could pull them off, in heels, looking sexy as fuck. The novice mistake is trying to be sexy, exaggerating the wiggling your ass, or whatever. Real Vaudeville style is very controlled movements, where you isolate particular body parts to draw the eye. Hence her bright red lips. But ultimately, the sex comes from your eyes. I bet Berry will have cocked it up, innocent novice that she is.
She handed her sheet music to the accompanist, giving him an erotic little wink, and an extra copy of her resume. They stay in the room, and can sometimes be in on discussions the panelists' have, so it couldn't hurt. She'd cut the number perfectly for how she was going to sing it. Her cut wasn't 32 bars, it went for over 1 min, but Santana wouldn't be showing how much she was Velma Kelly if she wasn't trying to push a few boundaries. If the director put his foot down and stopped her at 32 bars, she wouldn't get the chance to belt the showy notes at the end, but that was a risk she was going to have to take, because she wanted to show the slow tempo sexy part, then the up-tempo chorus and then the vocal theatrics at the end. She'd translated and learned the German, so she knew what she was singing about.
What is Sally Bowls' truth? Sally dances in the club, but she also turns tricks, she'd had to, to survive. If Sally was here right now, she'd be sizing up every man in the room as a potential John. And that was how Santana was going to play it.
Santana took up her initial position, the lunge on the chair, sideways to stage front, then nodded to the pianist. She looked at the director, as if she wanted to fuck his brains out, a flash of eyebrow and conspiratorial wink. The intro finished.
"Bye, bye, mein lieber herr
Farewell, mein lieber herr"
She began grinding, up and down, very controlled when she got to the first 'lieber'.
"It was a fine affair, but now it's over"
Santana changed to the more precarious position grinding with one high heel on the seat of the chair and the other on the top of the chair's backrest. She had to be perfectly balanced, or they'd be distracted wondering if she was about to topple. She made eye contact with the creative director, he looked like Columbo, the scruffy TV detective, you want a piece of this!
She began to click in time to the music, as she used her thigh to jut her hip out sideways. With. Total. Control.
"And though I used to care, I need the open air
You're better off without me, mein herr"
The song sped up at this point, and Santana came out the front of the chair, leaning her back against the backrest from the outside, facing stage front, holding her body in an outwards-facing plank position. All classic Fosse Vaudeville moves.
"Don't dab your eye, mein herr
Or wonder why, mein herr"
She held her plank, while singing and sexily stepping one leg over the stabilizing leg, gracefully. Before doing the same move with her legs reversed.
"I've always said that I was a rover
You mustn't knit your brow"
Santana smoothly turned the chair to face stage front, while doing a sexy booty slap to distract them.
Then she straddled the back of the chair, legs spread, before doing a full back bend arch, giving them an upside-down flash of her ample cleavage, accentuated today with a push-up bra.
Now for the peace la resistance.
"You should have known by now
You'd every cause to doubt me, mein herr"
She changed positions by sitting on the chair and lifting one leg straight up beside her ear, to showcase her flexibility, and held it, and just clicked with the hand on the opposite side. It was sneakily necessary, because the lack of movement allowed her now to focus on the most vocally changing part of the song. She belted.
"Bye, bye, mein lieber herr
Und vorbei
Du kennst mich wohl, mein herr"
In the Cell Block Tango, Velma does a spread eagle, her signature move. She literally does a handstand then puts her legs into full front splits, with her back to the audience, and remains perfectly horizontal without wobbling. Santana was going to do that, but her handstand was on that chair. Without the slightest room for a quiver.
Santana took a deep breath.
"And bye, bye"
Because she would have her back to them, it wasn't ideal for when she was singing, but she went for it upon belting out the final note.
She assumed the position in the last few seconds, while the piano still played. And let the song finish, and held the position an extra long time, to prove she could. Santana then slowly, brought her legs back together into a standard handstand, then bent at the waist, and came back to her feet one leg at a time in a very measured style. Only someone with killer core strength can do it. Thank you, cheerleading!
Then she came stage front, dragging the chair behind her, walking in a way that exaggerated her hip sway. Before striking her final pose in front of the creative team, standing tall, with one heel up on the chair, as if ready to give them more full-frontal grinding. She figured she'd leave them wanting more.
The three men looked engaged, the young Johnny Depp, that wasn't Columbo or the director, was really staring. Columbo looked ready to jizz his ugly old man pants, and the director was jotting down notes. There were two women there. One older, hair in a bun. Seriously! A bun. And the younger one, looked stylish, she was nodding her head minimally, but that seemed a good sign.
The older woman took off her glasses, "Thank you," She said in a polite manner.
The Columbo fiddled with his notes, "Santana… Lopez."
The director asked, "Are you Spanish?"
"Puerto Rican." She was American, born in Lima, but she knew what they were really asking.
"And you're…" He looked at her paperwork, "… nineteen! Is that right?" He gawked at her in disbelief.
They don't want someone that young.
"Nearly twenty," She tried her best to fix it, "I've lived… I'm more like 25…" Santana charmed them, flashing them a knowing smile with a little wink on a hip bump, "… in this dynamic package!" In case they'd missed just how sassy she was.
There was a hushed conversation between panel members. All she could make out of what was being said was, the younger man said to the older woman, "With enough stage make-up, she'd be fine."
"Very impressive, thank you," Said Columbo.
The older woman was all business, "Have you prepared a monologue."
It wasn't really a question, and of course she had. She'd been practicing her Chicagoan accent for two weeks. She did the iconic Velma monologue where she talks about her sister and her husband, Charlie, and their double act, and how this one night they were all boozin' at the hotel Cicero, when she caught Charlie and Veronica doing the spread eagle, and blacked out, and didn't know they were dead until I was washing the blood off my hands later.
Santana held the script, but she didn't need to look at it, she knew the material. Velma is duplicitous, so Santana had found ways to make her body language the opposite of her words, to show she's an unreliable narrator. The director asked her to do it once more, but gave her the direction, that this time he wanted her to play it more physically restrained, but keep it highly expressive on her face. She hadn't practiced it that way, but this was another test. Adapt or die.
She exaggerated with her eyes, and mouth, and made use of her voice for emphasis, but was sure to keep her hand gestures, and movement to the barest minimum. Not at all what felt comfortable, but she tried. She felt that was the wrong way to play it, especially for stage, people in the back aren't going to be able to see such subtleties.
They had another hushed discussion afterwards. She watched their faces, Columbo was rooting for her, and the director seemed impressed enough. Young Johnny, didn't have a lot of power, but he liked her too.
Columbo spoke first, "Two high school productions… that's all you've done?"
There was no pussy footing around that question.
"I'm very dramatic, I've been acting since I could walk, if there's a stage, bet your ass I'm in the center of it," She explained," She had precious little time to make them care about her, "My mother has been giving me voice lessons since I was in elementary school, she's a trained jazz singer."
"It shows," Said Columbo.
The truth is, between her homelife, wanting to fit in at school and hiding her lesbianism, Santana had a lifetime of acting experience she couldn't list on a resume. But she made sure she answered their actual question, "But yes, only two formal musical productions."
The older woman with the grey bun spoke, "Do you have any questions for us?"
Santana hadn't been expecting to be asked, she looked at their individual expressions, what do they want? Judging by their body language, she didn't think it was a genuine question. "I'm good," Santana said, strutting off the stage, exaggerating her hip sway as she went. Feast on that boys!
"Okay, well, thank you," The older woman called to Santana's retreating form.
))))))
Santana went straight back to the motel, she wanted to tell Finn face to face.
"Are you happy with how it went?"
"I freakin' slayed that song," Santana stated as fact, "The dirty old man who looked like Columbo, practically blew his load just watching me grind that chair."
Finn tried to stop himself from laughing, because he knew how that guy felt, "I practically blew my load watching you grind against that chair," Finn smirked bashfully.
And then the reality that they had this whole motel room to themselves suddenly dawned on both of them.
Santana reached around his neck and hoisted her legs around his waist and then they were sucking face like the love sick teenagers they were.
When Finn finally pulled away to catch his breath, he asked the champagne problem of, "Bed, or bathtub?"
Santana looked excited at the endless possibilities.
"Bathtub," She pecked him, "then bed."
She hopped off him, and went to one of her bags, "Meet me in the bathroom."
Santana was off setting the mood or something. He heard her run the water.
He felt weird walking around naked, so he stripped down to his boxer shorts, and checked himself in the bedroom mirror, licking his fingers and slicking his eyebrows into place. Smooth.
The bathroom was a fake polished wooden brown theme, with real black and white marble on the basin counter, and lots of mirrors. The bathtub was sizable with metal handrails, and a detachable shower head. Santana was sitting on the edge of the tub in only a white toweling bathrobe sashed at the waist.
The light was off, but she had lit tea light candles around the basin, so the whole room had a glow. There were a few bottles of stuff lined up on the edge next to her.
She'd only filled the water half way, and there was no bubble bath or anything in the water. Finn just kind of stood there taking it all in, getting even more noticeably excited.
Santana stepped out of the robe and let it puddle on the floor. She was stark naked underneath, and her hair was out. He came forward to kiss her and held her about the waist. He sucked her tongue between his lips. He tickled the roof of her mouth with his tongue. It felt so good to be connecting to her like this. And so fun that they were on this New York holiday adventure, just the two of them.
He danced her back to the edge, encouraging her to sit, and got on his knees on the fluffy bathmat. He really liked doing this now. He still wasn't sure how much Santana loved the other stuff they did, but he knew she was wild for this.
He loved her perky little vagina, and her manicured triangle of carpet, and she had awesome legs, and her taste. Finn used his fingers to peel back the hood, so to speak, and this time he decided to try rapid fire left to right, right left motions on her clit. Not hard, just quick. It was only moments, before he felt a reaction from her, as she readjusted her body, "fuck yes!"
She moved to be further on the edge. Finn decided to hook her legs over his shoulders for better access, and he brought his fingers in, doing the 'running man' on her g spot. He was getting to know her turn ons and offs better now, so he could get her pretty hot, pretty fast.
It was only a couple of minutes before she was leaning back further, bracing herself with her hands on the side of the bath. Her eyes were creased shut, as if pained, while she was crying out every few seconds, heaving, and her body was twitching in response to his attention. Finn still felt so proud when she reacted like this to his touch. He knew she was close, so he decided to go for it. He sucked her whole bean of nerves into his mouth, and sucked and sucked like it was a teat, while he continued his running man extra quick inside her vag.
"Oh…. Oh… fuck! Fiiiinnnn!" Santana cried out as he felt her body exploding, her walls seized on his fingers, and her juices flowed in his mouth, and her whole body quaked.
Santana found it hard to keep herself upright, her body sagged, and she would have fallen back into the water, if not for his steady grip on her thigh. The way she looked at him, exhausted, but completely satisfied, got him rock hard in a flash. He stood up. Being so much taller than her, his johnson was practically in her face.
She smirked, devilishly, "Get in."
Finn obeyed, peeling off his shorts, he laid back and let the water wash over him. It was pretty hot. Santana stood in front of him, with a bottle of presumably body wash.
She put his legs up on either side of the tub, which meant Finn was lying quite low down. And then Santana kneeled down before his groin. He could help but watch her perfect tits. He was already saluting her, visibly above the water line, much to her amusement. She lathered the soap between her fingers and began at his chest, rubbing her hand over him, foreplay via massage. She moved under each arm pit, down each arm, spent a little time sliding her fingers between his, which was more erotic than he'd have expected. She then went back to his stomach, raking her fingers down towards his dick, but not quite touching him there.
He was heaving before she even touched his dick. She got the next bottle off the basin counter. Lube.
She squirted it directly onto the head of his dick. The cool sensation was welcome, because steam was coming off his body.
"Silicon based," She said by way of explanation, "no soap in privates…. not fun!"
Finn nodded, trying to learn something, but her breasts were on full perky display right in front of him, jiggling as she moved up and down against him, like her small dark peaks were waving at him, hypnotizing him into a dopey smile.
Santana stated her offer, "Blow job or reverse cowgirl?"
Finn had to shake himself out of his booby-induced trance, "What now?"
She leaned closer, purring, "Would Little Finny prefer my mouth or my snatch?"
"Come here," He held out his arms.
Santana's expression said she thought he was crazy. She moved, and he motioned for her to turn around, so that her back laid up against his chest. He held her close, so she eventually relaxed and let her head fall back against his shoulder. He leaned forward to press his cheek against hers, whispering in her ear. "I believe I was going to wash your hair."
She smiled at that, a little dimple digging into her cheek. I love that dimple. He could see them reflected in mirror at the other end of the bath. That placement seemed oddly deliberate.
Finn cupped the water in his hand and brought it up to pour it over her head, gently, while he massaged her scalp. He reached out for the shampoo, and then he massaged it in, got her head all lathered up, careful not to let the soap run into her eyes.
Santana murmured, sounding so relaxed she was going to fall asleep.
Finn didn't stop at her hair, he lathered up his hands and then went straight for her boobs, caressing and squeezing as well as cleaning. Boobs might get really dirty, you never know, from all their exhaustive activity, bounding around in bras or whatever. There's nothing wrong with wanting to wash them really thoroughly, four or five times. He was watching it all in the mirror, which made the whole thing even hotter. Then her armpits, and her arms, as she had done, then her stomach. And then he went for her cave of wonders.
"No soap in my penis fly trap!" She warned him, cracking an eye open, "Only lube."
Finn started laughing so hard he was shaking, holding her closer, the whole surface of the water quivered like the T-rex in Jurassic Park was approaching.
"Penis fly trap! That makes it sound like you devour dicks with that thing!" Finn couldn't help but smile.
"Are you sure I don't?" Santana snarked back, cracking an eye open.
He decided the soap in her hair was continental drifting too close to her eyes, and so began to cup the water over her forehead while getting her to lean her head back so the shampoo glided down and floated on top of the water, like clouds. Her hair looked extra black and shiny now. Then he added conditioner, massaging it on. And went back to massage her tits, cupping them in his hands, fingers splayed, and squeezing gently, tracing the nipple with his thumb delicately. Then he was ready to rinse her hair again. He kept finger combing her hair, well her weave, now that he could.
Finn had an idea, he unhooked the retractable shower head off the bath behind him, holding it away from them, getting the water hot but not too hot, and high pressure, before slowly sinking it below the surface of the water, like Jaws' dorsal fin. He had the theme song going in his head, as if the hose were up to no good, sneaking up on her unsuspecting vag. He put the retractable head right up on her bajingo and let the water pressure hit her nub.
He smiled, "Do you like that?"
She bit her lip and just nodded. He used his other hand to peel back the hood, to get a better angle. And Santana let him know she liked that. He moved his hand steadily up and down so it wasn't just constant pressure on the one spot, going closer and further away to make it feel more and less intense.
She sighed, sinking deeper into the water. He could sort of see what his hand was doing, it was under the water, so there was refraction that made it look distorted, but still a turn on. He liked watching her face contort with pleasure. And the rise and fall of her… ahem… chest as she got closer to climax.
His free hand went to her opening, and he slipped a finger inside, watching her reaction. As she jolted more and more between his legs, her butt would knock into his dick. He added a second finger. And pretty soon little gasps of her overflowing pleasure were escaping her luscious lips.
Not long now. And now he knew what he wanted. Finn had wanted to try this for a little while, to get her right on the edge and then enter.
"I want inside you," He whispered.
Santana's eyes flew open again, "I'm not finished."
"We both will, let me show you."
She nodded, getting onto her knees.
He got hold of his cock, jerking out a few lazy strokes over his head. His hands were already holding her up, ready to place her onto his erection. He remained sitting with his feet out in front. She turned her head to look back at him, giving him a conspiratorial wink. She was still facing the mirror, then shuffled backwards on her knees, until one shin was either side of his hip, and her ass was just about touching his cock. It was a bit tight for space, but they managed it, without all the water ending up on the floor. Santana braced herself on the sides of the bath, leaning forward, and Finn held his cock and guided it between her folds.
Normally being inside her felt awesome because you get that warm emersion in cushion feeling from the tip to the base, in a way that just can't be replicated with your hand. Shooting sensations all the way down to the base. But since they were already in warm water, it felt changed this time. That was probably also the lack of a rubber.
He didn't need to thrust fast to make it feel hot, he slowly sunk farther in, and felt her body throbbing against him on all sides, because she was nearing lift off, which made him extra excited, extra fast. Santana couldn't really thrust from here, so he did, but only in little jerky motions, before returning the retractable shower head to her clit. He watched her face in the mirror, like she was concentrating hard, and calmly lowering herself, and then up again. Where their bodies collided caused a wave to splash up against the sides. The first few remained below the top of the tub, but pretty soon, each thrust sent a bit of water over the edge. The way every thrust was sending him closer to the edge too.
Finn was restrained. He felt privileged she let him do this much, he didn't want to do anything to make her reconsider. He looked down, having a close-up view of her glorious butt. No assless JLO here, not now that he had this angle. Gosh, all those insults! If I could have imagined then, what she'd mean to me now.
He was panting, and starting to make noises that embarrassed him, and now he could see his face in the mirror, distorting into what looked like 'attempting to sing BeeGees' face. Finn felt her body shuddering and was trying so hard to hang on himself. Almost. He was feeling that familiar tightening in his balls. Almost. He held the shower head right on her nub, and turned the water on full blast. Santana cried out and doubled over, and clenched and released only to clench again, intensely, hugging him in waves as he began spewing into her, hot spurts of his cum.
That. Was. Awesome.
They were both heaving, and Santana collapsed back against him. He looked in the mirror, smiling, waiting for her to open her eyes.
"I'm impressed, Hudson," Her eyes remained closed, but her characteristic snark filled the room, "And here I thought, fucking you would get boring!"
"Ummm, thank you," It was intended as a complement, in a Santana way.
He pulled her face to the side so he could kiss her again, sensually, between breathless panting. Santana spoke, as if she was bewildered, "No guy lets the girl go first. Every. Single. Time."
He corrected, "No guys you've been with."
"No guy ever!"
"I don't think that's true," He politely disagreed.
"What's wrong with you!" She actually sounded annoyed for some reason, staring at him pointedly through the reflection in the mirror.
He matched her. "Getting to touch you gets me going," He said, simply not really understanding why she seemed pissed off.
She cocked her head to the side, then sort of shook her head, disbelieving.
Finn held up his hand, "I'm all prune-y, and the water is getting cold."
He kissed her a bit longer, before it became apparent they had to get out. And then he insisted on drying her. Very thoroughly. The water on the floor wasn't a puddle, so much as the whole tiled surface was covered.
Santana put the robe back on and flopped on the big bed and started to look for the remote control.
Finn started thinking about his tummy. "Do you want to order room service? More grilled cheese sandwiches?" He made references to fond memories.
"No. Just get me a salad." Santana had gained five pounds since going on the pill and she was touchy about it. She looked great, but nothing he said, made her feel different, so he'd filed it under no-go topics.
"I want dessert, like whipped cream or sundae topping."
"We never eat desert," She didn't understand his intention.
It was true. Finn and his mom had grown up too poor to add in unnecessary meals, and Santana was always watching her weight.
"I just want to get something sweet I can eat off you."
Santana looked much more interested now, "Sounds good," She raised an errant eyebrow.
And then she begun chugging two big glasses of water. She noticed him watching her.
"Does bath sex make you dehydrated or something?"
"Well, yeah, but it's kind of easy to get a UTI," She shrugged, "Learned that one the hard way. Gotta flush the line."
"Do I need to do that too?" He asked.
"Couldn't hurt."
Finn needed to stop letting it bother him that she'd already done everything with someone else, first. Because how realistic was it really that you'd be with someone who hadn't? And the reason everything she did felt so freakin' awesome was because she knew what she was doing.
)))))))
Finn asked Santana where her hairbrush was, because further to washing her hair, he wanted to brush it.
"You know this is a weave right?" She mocked him endlessly about not understanding anything about women in general, but Latina women and Black women in particular. "I have a wide tooth comb."
She let him, but made sure he was extra careful. Apparently, extensions can break more easily than real hair when wet.
They ate. And made good use of the big bed, and Finn licked cream and chocolate topping off many surfaces that afternoon. And then they laid in each other's arms.
Finn laid back, and Santana had her head on his chest. "I'm really glad we came here, for this," She looked at him, "Thank you."
Finn wanted to let her say what she wanted to.
"At acting gigs, it can be really hard to stand out," Santana commented resigned before picking up, "but when I sing, my voice, I know I do."
"Maybe you should focus on singing parts, in L.A.?" Finn suggested.
Santana appeared to consider it.
"We better get going, you need to shower, in case I missed any chocolate," Finn reminded her.
"Dinner with Kurt?" She'd clearly forgotten.
"And Rachel," Before he added defensively.
Santana's expression said only if hell froze over.
He added, "But, only if you want too."
"I definitely don't want too."
"Okay, I get it," Finn nodded, "I'll get coffee with her separately sometime this weekend."
Santana's face looked horrified at that suggestion.
"You are going to see her without me!"
Finn didn't see why it was a big deal. "Yeah, I mean… we're still friends."
"You two are not friends!" Santana got her back up right away.
"We've slowly been mending our friendship. It'll be fine."
Santana was incredulous, "She's Madison from Swimfan, and you're the star swimmer!"
"Come on, Rachel's harmless."
Santana's expression didn't agree at all, but then she rolled her eyes, "Whatever! I can totally take her!"
"No bagging on Rachel," He reminded her of the rules.
Santana changed the subject, "Want to watch Cinemax?"
Finn glanced at the clock. "No time. We gotta go."
As they were running out the door half an hour later, Finn remembered, I forgot to call Rachel.
The Santana Lopez School of Distraction strikes again!
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They met Kurt at a funky restaurant in Bushwick that was modern Italian fusion, called Nicandra's. It had an old style, red brick interior, and throwback wood and wrought iron décor. Kurt had raved about the house made pasta.
The three of them crammed around a square wooden table in the corner, and Finn took everyone's orders, and went to the counter.
"Fancy seeing you here," Rachel came over to Finn who was waiting to order.
"Rachel!?" Oh SHOOT! Santana's gonna flip.
"What a coincidence," She said, sounding incredibly fake.
Yeah, of all the gin joints… who are we kidding!
Finn jittered nervously at the counter, feeling like it was taking forever. Before looking back over at the table. Santana was laughing with Kurt and hadn't noticed a thing, yet.
Rachel redirected his attention, "I missed you at the audition."
"Yeah, I went to the Empire State Building," He gave by way of explanation.
"Why weren't you there? Are you two fighting?"
You'd like that.
Santana was watching him from the table now, he could feel the rage coming off her stink eye from 20 feet away.
This is not going to be good.
He tried to remain calm, "Nah, nothing like that."
Rachel wasn't letting it go though, "Then why did you skip the audition?"
He was nonplussed, "We talked about it, and she wanted to go it alone."
Rachel did a double take, like she couldn't fathom why on earth Santana would have done that. Rachel always wanted Finn by her side for all her big auditions.
))))))))))))))Santana POV)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Barbara 2.0 had not only weaseled her way into their catchup dinner, but she just couldn't help but gloat too. "So, Santana, how do you think you went?"
Santana was in no mood to chit chat with Diva-from-hell, "It was fine."
"I was ecstatic." She didn't wait to be asked, "Dan," Berry talked as if they were old friends, "Daniel Clothier," she decided to clarify for Santana who looked lost, "the artistic director, clapped after I sang."
Oh, you poor naïve little girl, you really don't understand how the big bad world really functions, do you?
Santana rolled her eyes. "So, Kurt, how goes the prep for A Chorus Line," Santana tried to redirect the conversation, unsubtly.
"I've been working on my contemporary dancing," Kurt admitted, not looking pleased, "because, I mean, it's a show for dancers. I'm not so good at hip hop."
"I can help you with that, I did some hip-hop dancing in junior high after I quit ballet."
"Really?" Kurt was genuinely interested in her offer.
"Sure, how about we run lines together too?"
"That would be awesome! Tomorrow morning?"
Kurt was ecstatic, "Done and done!"
They chatted happily enough a while longer. Rachel got in a few shots about how she was surprised Santana would audition for Broadway, since it's not really her 'thing'. Santana just shrugged and said, she was enjoying trying everything. Their food arrived and they fell into a series of rumbling sounds as they munched away.
Then Santana's phone dinged. She checked the display. Good news!
"I got to the next round!"
Finn got up to give her a hug and kiss her cheek. "That's wonderful!"
Santana read the text message aloud, "Congratulations, you've made it through to the next round of auditions for Chicago, please attend the Gershwin Theatre on Broadway on Wednesday the 8th of May."
"I'm so happy for you!" Kurt enthusiastically hugged her with jazz hands on full display.
"Wait, how am I going to swing being here on Wednesday?" Santana suddenly realized, "I used up every favor I had with my friends at the diner just to get this weekend off!"
Finn shrugged, "Do you really care if you lose that job?"
"Um, yeah, I need it to like... eat and pay my bills, little things like that," She reminded him peevishly.
"I can help you out with that," He said, "This is a big deal."
"I don't want you paying for everything," Santana didn't feel resentful Finn had a good job now, well maybe a little, but him having so much money now meant he wanted to do more exciting things she couldn't afford. "It's bad enough you paid for my flights and the Marriott by yourself."
I'm not the little woman you need to take care of!
"I'm well paid now, I don't mind," Finn said.
"I mind!" Santana was testy.
Finn recoiled. Looking at their present company. Kurt who looked uncomfortable, and Berry was eating it up.
"We'll discuss it later." Santana waved it off, and Finn took the hint.
"You can sleep on the floor of my room," Kurt broke through the tension, "Until your callback."
Everyone looked at him.
"We haven't discussed that," Berry was clearly put out.
Please tell me there's an option C. Santana remembered back to her short stay in that Backpacker's Hostel. Option D?
But to be fair, if the roles were reversed, Santana wouldn't let Berry stay at her apartment.
Rachel snapped, "It's our place."
"It's only for a few days," Kurt reasoned, "where's she gonna stay on such short notice?"
Rachel remained unhappy, and nothing was settled. Santana didn't want to stay there either, but she didn't want to fully turn it down, in case she didn't have another option.
)))))))
No one made a deal of Rachel not getting a text. But the longer her phone remained silent on the table, the more her face fell and the more her disappointment set in.
Another 45 minutes of chit chat, had completely ruined the vibe. Everyone was pussy footing around Diva-from-Hell, who kept picking up her phone as if she thought it was somehow busted.
"I, I," Berry finally lost it, "I don't understand, I auditioned so well. I've never sung that song better. I was way better than anyone else I heard."
We get it. It sucks. Go home, and throw yourself a pity party. This is my holiday adventure, with my boyfriend, stop ruining it!
Finn tried to cheer her up, "Santana's been to like 30 acting auditions and only gotten 2 background jobs so far."
"Thanks a lot!" Santana was not happy.
Finn turned to her to explain himself, "You should be applauded for getting back up after they kick you down, it's hard, you are so strong, I watch you and I can't help but be amazed!"
Finn spoke with so much genuine love in his eyes. And then he was holding her and kissing her on the lips. A sweet kiss.
Rachel made an audible huff, no doubt to passively aggressively try to ruin their moment. But Santana didn't let it put her off in the slightest. She wrapped her arms around Finn's neck, and stared back, "Thank you, I needed that."
And she kissed him.
Berry began fake coughing.
Finn went back to reinflating the endless pit of need that is Rachel 'selfish bitch' Berry, "You sang great and they cut you anyway. It sucks. I hear you."
There was clearly a 'but' coming.
"But, in this business… sometimes," Finn struggled to find the right words, "they don't want you for… reasons beyond your control."
"So, just, suck it up?" Berry was petulant, "That's your advice! Roxie Hart, the role I've been dreaming of playing since I was five." The hurt was evident in her voice.
This isn't Mr Schue fantasyland anymore Rachel, no one is going to hand you anything!
Finn was ready for her response, "Even when you're excellent, until you make a name for yourself and the roles come to you, you are going to have to deal with this."
"I'm not built to just, let it go," Rachel admitted.
"Maybe Roxie just isn't the right role for you," Santana suggested, more gently than she wanted too, the mean voice in her head had a less flattering version of the same message.
Berry's ugly fucking face fell open, like 'oh no she didn't'. "What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel demanded, arms crossed, nostrils flaring.
"Take it easy," Finn began refereeing as if expecting a WCW smackdown any moment.
Seriously! My breasts are aching with rage!
"You're not right for Roxie," Santana stated as a point of fact.
"Rub it in my face why don't you!" Rachel cried, "You've gotten to the second round and I didn't!"
"Because you have all the sex appeal of Elphaba Thropp!" Santana fired back without missing a beat.
Rachel appealed to Finn, "Do you see how awful she is to me?"
"Rachel!" Finn actually sounded annoyed, "if you'd made it to the next round right now, would really you care if Santana said she didn't think you were right for a role?"
He looked at her pointedly.
But Baby Barbara was having a temper tantrum, "Well, Velma Kelly is meant to be Irish, so I'm not sure your black Puerto Rican ass is suitable either!"
Wait, what the fuck did you just say, bitch!
"Woaw!" Kurt threw up his hands in surrender, as if to say, too much!
Does he know too?
Seriously! If I had a fucking pie right now! Santana thought.
She'd told Finn at the time, that she hadn't told anyone she'd gone to see her Dad, not her Mom or Britt.
Santana raised her hand to silence Berry, while turning to Finn, boiling over with fucking rage, "You told her?!"
"Rachel, that's not cool!" Finn warned his ex. Before turning to Santana apologetic, "We've been talking a bit… recently." He had the sense to look guilty as fuck, but Santana was about ready to fucking hit something.
Fuck you, Hudson!
Santana got up, and dropped a twenty on the table. She wound up her sarcasm mode, "Thanks again Berry, for crashing our dinner and sucking all the oxygen out of the room," Santana tried to make Finn see it, "I should be celebrating right now, it's a big deal I got a call back, but instead, it's all about Rachel 'I'm always the victim' Berry," Santana couldn't contain her frustration. "If you're not happy, how dare I smile."
And then she was off, walking in the cool night air, looking for the nearest Subway entrance.
How much did he tell her? It was horrifying to think that Rachel Berry of all fucking people knew that about her.
Finn was running and calling her from behind, but she didn't want to talk to him.
"San, I didn't, it's not what you think…"
"Oh, really?" She turned, ready to shove him, "Fucking explain it then!"
"Rachel said something about your hair, and I mentioned it was a weave," Finn was breathless.
Lumps, you need to work out more!
"And she said 'why would you need a weave'."
"The conversation didn't go beyond, you have dark curly hair naturally because you have some African heritage, that's all," Finn said, "She doesn't know anything about your family, your bio-Dad, none of it, I swear."
Santana took a moment to calm the fuck down, because Snixx had been ready to beat his ass.
Berry's going to know something's up for sure now! But at least Finn hadn't really betrayed my confidence. Anyone with the slightest clue knows I wear a weave. It's not a state secret.
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Santana POV ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
She and Finn had made up, and Saturday had been fun, she met Kurt in Central Park in the morning, and showed him some moves. And she had the afternoon with Finn they went on the Staten Island Ferry, and then they had a proper dinner date on Saturday night.
Wednesday was a dance audition. Everyone who made it through round 1, which was about 500 people, had to prove they could bust a move. They took to the stage, 50 at a time, and had to learn a fairly short and simple routine. Santana, who was very fucking confident in her dance ability, perched herself up the front, and showed that she could learn the steps quickly, and execute them as shown, and still look like a minx while doing it.
She made it to round three. Round 3 was another song and she act out a scene with a random person reading the other part.
As much as Kurt's offer was genuine and in some ways sensible, she just didn't want to be near Berry, or she could think of was that she'd find some way to wreck this for her. She couldn't practice for her audition at a backpackers, so she'd eventually accepted Finn's offer to pay for a budget motel room way out of the city. She would pay him back.
Finn had to return to L.A. on Sunday, he was in his last 10 days of filming. But they Skyped every evening. She called the diner, and the manager told her she was fired if she didn't front up for work the next day. So that was done.
Santana had been going to do 'All That Jazz', Velma's big number. You weren't supposed to pick songs from the show, it was considered death. Santana knew that, but they were down to the last 20 Velma's, she had to show she had the goods to get through to the last 10. Kurt had talked her out of it, explaining that the casting panel had likely endlessly discussed how they wanted the song arranged, and the exact sound they wanted, and what theatrics on what notes, and would have heard a million versions of the song, including by the best of the best. Of course she would be compared harshly to all of that. Broadway legend, Sally Avery, was up for this part too. Santana didn't have a good chance, but even if they made her one of the Cell Block Chorus dancers, or the understudy, that would be huge. After she made it through to this round, Finn had asked what she'd do if she did get it. And she responded, well, that's sort of the point. He said, yeah, but if she moved to New York for good, they couldn't see each other. I know, she said, sadly. But seriously, if this production would have her, she was going.
Santana decided she'd sing 'Nobody does it like me', from See-Saw, it was Kurt's suggestion, he knew a lot more Broadway songs than she did after all. This song had good impressive notes at the end, and it was very style appropriate for Velma. Santana went in, and it was much more intimate this time, a small room, and the casting panel were sitting in a row behind a desk, 3 meters in front of her. All the same people from the first audition.
Velma does full side splits in All That Jazz, so Santana was going to finish by showing she could do full splits on the floor, while wailing on the last jaw-dropping note. She was going to do less sophisticated choreography this time, it was more important to showcase her voice in this audition.
)))))))) Rachel POV ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
The girl waiting opposite was clearly so stressed, she was endlessly fixing her bob. She had an intensity to her that made Rachel think of Paris from Gilmore Girls. Yes, she'd watched that show. She liked when smart young women had goals and worked hard to achieve them.
The black bob, mirrored Catherine Zeta Jones' in the movie version of Chicago. She had pale skin with no freckles and sharp brown eyes. She was dressed in very fancy audition clothes. The shoes alone were $400 a pair. This girl is wealthy.
"Who are you auditioning for?" She asked, seizing Rachel up.
"Oh, I'm not, I'm waiting for Santana to finish." Rachel said, "She's hoping to play Velma."
"So am I," Which was obvious from her attire. She was fidgeting, "I'm Eliza," Her speech was abrupt.
"R… I'm Chloe."
"Do you go to NYADA?" Eliza asked, appearing to have recognized Rachel.
"Yeah, I'm just finishing off freshman year."
"I'm a senior."
Rachel asked, "Do you have Carmen Tibideaux for any classes?"
"Vocal performance and song interpretation. I've learned a lot," Eliza said, before adding quietly, "When her insightful comments don't give me bouts of depression…" She was trying for humor.
Rachel smiled, "Definitely know what you mean."
Eliza leaned in, clearly looking to gossip, "I heard The Sally Avery, is the front runner to play Velma.
"I heard that too," Rachel had been reading about it on the Broadway blogs. "She's amazing, did you see her in 'Anything Goes?"
"So brilliant, I must have watched it live, six times!"
Definitely rich.
"Stiff competition."
"Are you from New York?" Rachel asked, hearing her accent.
"Manhattan, born and bred. You?"
"Ohio."
"You're a long way from Kansas, Dorothy."
"I think New York has always been my home, I just had to find a way to get here," Rachel knew it was true as the words left her lips.
Eliza couldn't help herself, "How good is your friend?"
Rachel cringed at the mention of her and Santana being friends. "I don't know, she's good at sexy…" Before adding as an afterthought, "she's pretty good at pretending to be straight, too!"
Rachel watched as Eliza's eyes became wide, and she leaned in, "Seriously!"
Bitch brought this on herself! "Google her," Was all Rachel said, "Santana Lopez."
Eliza's mouth twitched up on one side, looking self-satisfied. Eliza pulled out her phone then and there. And didn't bother saying another word to Rachel. She clearly had what she wanted.
Santana came out a few minutes later.
"How did it go?" Rachel asked.
Santana did a double take when she saw her. "Where's Lady Hummel? He promised me he'd be here."
"I know, but his plans had to change."
"I can find my own way," Santana said defensively, she clearly didn't want anything to do with her. Santana gathered her stuff and was walking away before Rachel had even stood up.
I have a lot of knowledge you could have drawn upon, if only you weren't so stubborn.
A/N: Not long before everyone will be reuniting in Lima for Nationals prep...