Read Online She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story) by Max Sebastian - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Max Sebastian
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simply frightful!”
There were lots of air kisses as we circled the crowd, clutching Champagne flutes and fancy canapés, uttering brief nothings in greeting and admiration to people Hayley might have known, but I suspect she didn’t.
I felt like the invisible man: eyes flicked onto my face for mere fractions of seconds before deciding I was nobody, and then it was as though I wasn’t even there. I didn’t mind too much—it wasn’t my world.
Hayley, on the other hand, was like some bright gravitational force, drawing all energy toward her, with even the brightest of stars obliged to take her in, and attempt to meet her. She drew plenty of complements on her dress, of course, since she did look pretty incredible in the tiny little crimson sequined thing. I still found it more than a little shocking how much skin it showed off.
I couldn’t blame the men in there. The sweet girl-next-door, as I usually saw her, had been temporarily replaced by a devilish seductress in a tiny dress and nylons. Her red hair was highlighted with strands of honey and gold, almost strawberry blonde. And she hadn’t gone for the usual understated make-up strategy, playing up her wholesome friendly charm—her elfin face was accented by mascara and heavy eyeliner, her lips splashed with sinful scarlet.
When we’d been just about to leave home, it had left me stunned to see her walk out of the bathroom looking like this, like some life-long sexual fantasy.
“My agent said I need to flaunt it,” she’d said.
“Wow,” was all I could really say by way of judgment.
“You do know it’s an Aaron Simpson movie?”
“How could I not?”
“So then,” she’d shrugged, and I had had to concede that this new look of hers did fit with the kind of brazen pin-up dream-girl chic that Aaron Simpson’s leading ladies usually displayed.
Confusing seeing her that way, though. She’d never dressed up for me like that. But then, she’d become a different woman through the process of her film shoot. She’d started out a polite, mousey girl who probably wouldn’t have said ‘boo’ to a goose, and she’d come out the other end a divine Hollywood starlet, a goddess in human form—with all the supreme confidence that came with it. She had come out of her shell, and her body was almost public property now. And she had to respond to the expectations that were laid on her, at least the ones laid on by her agent, her new publicist, her new manager, her new personal trainer, her fans.
Seeing her like that, as we left our little house on Redondo Beach, it made me wonder how she looked in the movie itself. The audience was going to see her in full Technicolor—and without any clothes. There was something exciting in that, though I still couldn’t quite comprehend why I felt that way. The six-figure check—and her agent’s promises of future seven-figure checks—probably helped.
But there was something flattering in knowing I’d made the right choice in my wife, that she was so gorgeous—as I’d seen while she’d been still waiting tables—and she was mine, but the world would now recognize it, too, while she adorned their posters and screens.
“Hayley, my how spectacular you look tonight!”
“Thanks Reggie!”
“Give my love to Aaron. He’s been looking for you.”
I felt like telling all these guys at the party who kept slipping surreptitious glances Hayley’s way: I got her first. I noticed her when the world didn’t.
There weren’t just surreptitious glances, there were outright stares, and there were smiles. I saw Hayley returning some of those smiles, and my stomach lurched. Hayley flashing expressions I had never seen before—suggestive, naughty, dangerous. Oh, I knew it was Hollywood, it was all make-believe, she was an actress. But the looks she was giving men all around the room hinted that she might be available later if they had a few minutes and a darkened room.
I caught myself, recognizing how ridiculous I
There were lots of air kisses as we circled the crowd, clutching Champagne flutes and fancy canapés, uttering brief nothings in greeting and admiration to people Hayley might have known, but I suspect she didn’t.
I felt like the invisible man: eyes flicked onto my face for mere fractions of seconds before deciding I was nobody, and then it was as though I wasn’t even there. I didn’t mind too much—it wasn’t my world.
Hayley, on the other hand, was like some bright gravitational force, drawing all energy toward her, with even the brightest of stars obliged to take her in, and attempt to meet her. She drew plenty of complements on her dress, of course, since she did look pretty incredible in the tiny little crimson sequined thing. I still found it more than a little shocking how much skin it showed off.
I couldn’t blame the men in there. The sweet girl-next-door, as I usually saw her, had been temporarily replaced by a devilish seductress in a tiny dress and nylons. Her red hair was highlighted with strands of honey and gold, almost strawberry blonde. And she hadn’t gone for the usual understated make-up strategy, playing up her wholesome friendly charm—her elfin face was accented by mascara and heavy eyeliner, her lips splashed with sinful scarlet.
When we’d been just about to leave home, it had left me stunned to see her walk out of the bathroom looking like this, like some life-long sexual fantasy.
“My agent said I need to flaunt it,” she’d said.
“Wow,” was all I could really say by way of judgment.
“You do know it’s an Aaron Simpson movie?”
“How could I not?”
“So then,” she’d shrugged, and I had had to concede that this new look of hers did fit with the kind of brazen pin-up dream-girl chic that Aaron Simpson’s leading ladies usually displayed.
Confusing seeing her that way, though. She’d never dressed up for me like that. But then, she’d become a different woman through the process of her film shoot. She’d started out a polite, mousey girl who probably wouldn’t have said ‘boo’ to a goose, and she’d come out the other end a divine Hollywood starlet, a goddess in human form—with all the supreme confidence that came with it. She had come out of her shell, and her body was almost public property now. And she had to respond to the expectations that were laid on her, at least the ones laid on by her agent, her new publicist, her new manager, her new personal trainer, her fans.
Seeing her like that, as we left our little house on Redondo Beach, it made me wonder how she looked in the movie itself. The audience was going to see her in full Technicolor—and without any clothes. There was something exciting in that, though I still couldn’t quite comprehend why I felt that way. The six-figure check—and her agent’s promises of future seven-figure checks—probably helped.
But there was something flattering in knowing I’d made the right choice in my wife, that she was so gorgeous—as I’d seen while she’d been still waiting tables—and she was mine, but the world would now recognize it, too, while she adorned their posters and screens.
“Hayley, my how spectacular you look tonight!”
“Thanks Reggie!”
“Give my love to Aaron. He’s been looking for you.”
I felt like telling all these guys at the party who kept slipping surreptitious glances Hayley’s way: I got her first. I noticed her when the world didn’t.
There weren’t just surreptitious glances, there were outright stares, and there were smiles. I saw Hayley returning some of those smiles, and my stomach lurched. Hayley flashing expressions I had never seen before—suggestive, naughty, dangerous. Oh, I knew it was Hollywood, it was all make-believe, she was an actress. But the looks she was giving men all around the room hinted that she might be available later if they had a few minutes and a darkened room.
I caught myself, recognizing how ridiculous I
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