So, it’s our first night at Devi’s, a night or two before the actual shoot begins. We’ve just had one final read through of the script and the cast seems ready to go. We go about getting settled in, no easy feat in light of the fact that the entire cast and most of the crew will be calling the Hotel Snively home for the next couple of weeks. I step outside for a cigarette and, as I’m apt to do, find myself wandering about. I’m on the side of the house when I notice a light go on in a second floor window. I look up to see Lindsay, who plays Holly, moving to and fro, setting up her room for the coming weeks.
“Move along, there’s nothing to see here,” a little voice inside my head tells me and so I go about my business of wandering.
I get to the front of the house, take a few more puffs of my cigarette and head back the way I came. Lindsay’s light is still on and I instinctually glance up again. This time however, she is no longer preparing he room. Instead, she’s in the process of getting changed for bed and is about to take her shirt off.
Again, that little voice is inside my head, “Move along, go about your business.” But this time, there is something to see here and I’m not so quick to comply.
Now understand, I’m not a peeping tom. I’ve seen plenty of breasts in my life and many…ok, some… of them, have belonged to very beautiful women. But also understand, I’m a happily married man and have not seen a pair of breasts other than my wife’s in six years. And finally, understand that Lindsay…well, watch the movie and you’ll understand my dilemma.
So there I am, on one hand feeling very much like a pre-pubescent twit trying to get his first glimpse of a real set of boobies and on the other hand wanting to call up to her and remind her to close the blinds. The voice is still inside my head, just not so “little” anymore. It has ceased being polite and is screaming at me, “Get lost you fucking perv!!”
Upstairs, Lindsay has taken hold of the waistline of her shirt and has begun pulling it upward. She does this in slow motion, it seems, almost as if she knows I’m watching (wait…does she?).
I wait anxiously, my cigarette (little more than a butt with a big old granny ash at this point) dangling limply between my loose lips and my eyes wide in anticipation, until the final moment when…
I turn away.
Already, my character, Jeremy, has taken hold of me, forcing me to be the “nice guy” and do the right thing. Had I known that the scene where Holly flashes the guy in the pick-up truck behind us was going to be shot on a closed set I might have put him back in the box for just one more minute.