| Dr. Hazelton glowered at Ellen as she slammed the door. "Nurse, you know I can't continue with this any longer! You know about my wife and my wife is well aware of you. I can't risk all I've worked for- my practice, my patients, my yacht, but most especially my three beautiful children. There may still be hope for this marriage and if there is I would cross heaven and earth to find it. Now please, if you'll just-"
His words were cut short as she reached up and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her and he returned the favor. He pulled her closer and, shoving stacks of patient reports and insurance claims to the floor, they moved to his desk. There she raised her ankles around his white examination jacket, a look of triumph spreading across her face.
"AND CUT!" Antonio jumped up. "That was wonderful! A perfect end to the season that will leave everyone eagerly awaiting the next Fall's shows."
The crew resumed work, taking down boom mikes, and testing the monitors and mikes. Jessica and Darren looked to the director. She spoke first, asking if the take worked.
"Oh yes, my dear. It was perfect! And you; Darren Weathers- Dr. Alex Hazelton- you could put Valentino to shame!"
Jessica was used to Antonio's excessive flattery but was too weary for it this morning. "I've really got to get moving," she told him. "I've got a lunchtime meeting with my agent."
"Of course, or course." He shooed her away, much too engrossed in fawning over her scene partner.
La Novia was a small bistro in the heart of Greenwich Village. Though she loved the restaurant and had gotten to know much of the staff on a first name basis, she rarely had the opportunity to stop by anymore. Each of her visits were interrupted by awestruck autograph hounds and starry eyed fans. She obligated them all, as was her custom, but it rarely left time to relax and enjoy a meal. Today she entered wrapped in a long raincoat, wide brimmed hat and sunglasses. She was sans makeup.
Stepping inside, she spotted Philip immediately. He took no notice of her and casually sipped a glass of Cabernet while waiting in the corner of the room. He started when she pulled a chair and sat across from him. Only when she removed both her hat and glasses did he realize her disguise.
They toasted the finish of her first year as a cast member on Hope Springs Eternal, the longest running, most successful serial romance on television today. She found it difficult to believe that two short years ago she was waiting tables at a diner outside of Bismark North Dakota, after dropping out of school to help pay for her sister's rehabilitation after her car accident. Though according to her screen bio she grew up in Ventura California where she went to high school and was noticed by a modeling agent during a homecoming dance. It also said she was twenty seven, when she had in fact passed the age of thirty almost two years ago. Whatever gets their attention, Philip always said.
"So that's it for the big maternity ward love triangle?" he asked.
"It's at least a polygon by now. Maybe a tetrahedron." They laughed. "In any case we'll find out next fall."
"Right," he added. "I'll review the scripts as soon as they send them and let you know."
The waiter placed a serving of Chicken Tetrazini in front of her and walked away, unaware of her identity. She cut a bite off and forked it into her mouth eagerly.
Philip continued, reading from a stack of press releases, news clipping and studio memos. "Until then you have several modeling dates, including one in Paris and one in Athens."
She looked over her schedule, overjoyed at the prospect of some time in Europe.
He smiled at her excitement. "Jess, you really should go with someone this time. What about that last one at the awards- what was his name? Brad?"
"Come on now Philip, you know that's just for the papers. I never even met the man before that night."
"Well how about Darren then? You two are close."
"Yes, that would be wonderful. Life follows art. I wonder how his movie star fiancé would feel about that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind losing his Hamptons mansion or the villa in Nice."
He was finishing up his meal. "Really Jessica, it doesn't fit with your image, always alone like this. I'm sure you'd have no problem finding a man. You're a pretty lady," he smiled, stating the obvious.
Waving off his humor she was almost frustrated. "It's not as easy as it sounds. It's not like I could go into the nearest bar and find a guy. The tabloids would have a field day with that. I sure wish I could though, it would make life so much easier."
"Anyway, could you at least pretend? For me, perhaps? It would make my job so much easier," he begged in an overdone exasperated tone. It's a good thing he ended up an agent, Jessica thought. He'd have starved as an actor.
She rubbed his hand playfully, "Can do, boss."
Her penthouse apartment was only blocks away and she hustled through the midmorning traffic, the wind whipping at her coat, until she reached her building at Central Park West. She had a catalog shoot later that afternoon and she ran to put her makeup on.
Though her peers all employed personal assistants and makeup artists, Jessica always found the act to be the most enjoyable part of her day. It gave her time to think and afforded her the opportunity do something she enjoyed since she was a girl, something she had become quite good at. It left her with one less person in her life and, looking about the roomy apartment, she wondered if that was such a good idea.
A limousine awaited her outside and she got in, not yet comfortable with the idea of being chauffeured around every day to and from work. She reclined on the plush seats and noted the full bar, tv, dvd player and stereo. It's difficult not to enjoy it, but sometimes she wished for the old days of driving to work and getting bored in traffic.
The shoot was in a large emptied loft in Tribeca. She was familiar with the photographer, as well as the employer and thought of modeling as the best part of her job. It relaxed her, cheered her up and paid much better than it should. She had grown familiar with everyone in the industry that worked on the East coast and always had a good time on a shoot.
Today Todd Polaski was behind the lens. He was a newcomer, having recently finished photography school in his native Cleveland where the local press was ecstatic about his work there. Having just moved to Manhattan and begun work, he and Jessica knew each other on a casual basis.
He had a talented eye that got his work noticed immediately. That, and his casual demeanor that got even the most pampered starlet to relax and open up, was what made him stand out from the hundreds of other well known fashion photographers. Her rack was prepared for her, fitted exactly for her body and numbered for the shoot. She found her piece, a thin silk camisole and panty set and lay it down before her while she undressed.
Just before she was about to strip off her tiny thong undetectable under the clothes she wore, Roger walked in. Ever since she had left him to work with Philip he had followed her and made her life miserable whenever he could. They had dated years ago, when she was his only client and she learned a lot from him. When they met she was a naïve girl from the Midwest with only local beauty pageants to her credit. Under him she learned not only how to become big in the industry, but how to be a capable lover as well. He wasn't her first but he was her first of note. She learned the finer points of sex from him, how to relax being the part she had the most trouble with. He got her to open up and learn to enjoy herself. When she did their time together was spent greedily taking advantage of each other. She enjoyed it then but now, after badmouthing her in the hopes that no other agents would want her and almost ruining her career before it began, she wonders how she could have gotten involved with him in the first place.
Seeing it was him, she quickly grabbed a robe and threw it on, cursing him up and down.
"I cam to congratulate you on your career, honey," he said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "You're doing so well. I'm happy for you. We've accomplished a lot."
"Roger I told you to stop doing this. We don't work together anymore."
"I got you that job on the soap," he beamed.
"No you didn't," she yelled. "Philip got me that spot. You know him? The man who doesn't lie about me and fuck me while stealing my money the whole time? He looked stunned, as if he'd never heard the accusations before. "The man I work with- my agent. Not you. We don't work together, I'm not your client, not your friend, not your coworker and I'm not yours anymore."
She was softer now, almost pleading, "Please Roger, understand me and go on with your life."
He looked at her sadly, unspeaking and she turned away from him. As she clenched her teeth she heard him walk away.
She was soon dressed, at least as much as possible in a pair of silk high cut French bikini panties and matching camisole. Her nipples, chilled from the air of the room poked through the material and her breasts swelled with each breath. Slipping easily into her "model" role, she swaggered out of the dressing room and into the large loft. A technician was busy setting up the screen while Todd rested on a small platform covered in whisper thin shrouds of light pastel colors. Behind him was a backdrop of painted clouds made with practiced brushstrokes.
His assistant perked up when she entered the room and didn't try to hide his interest in her. His eyes roamed her body from her bare ankles to her barely hidden breasts while Todd gave her merely a warm smile and directed her to the platform.
"We're just doing some test shots today," he instructed. "It's very open so just relax and be comfortable." He began checking views as she reclined on the small love seat placed among the artfully thrown cloths.
She lay across the seat, one bare foot on the floor, the other crossing her knee. She rested her chin on her shoulder as her arm lay across the arm of the love seat. The camera flashed, catching the perfect view of her jade green eyes.
It was times like this that she enjoyed her profession. Getting paid to do nothing but look beautiful was a good way to earn a living and Todd always made the shoots pleasant. She'd worked with more photographers than she could count. She knew some were impatient and some were antagonistic. Working with Todd was a delight. He looked like a younger brother and always treated her professionally and with the respect she deserved. Too many others thought of her as nothing more than something to hang clothes on (or take them off, depending on who was doing the paying).
It was a very laid back atmosphere, best for getting some good shoots and he encouraged her rather than directed her. She always understood what he wanted and most of what came out of his mouth was complimentary, rather than suggestive.
"Perfect, perfect, just like that," he said when she fluffed her hair and squinted playfully at the lens. Kicking her legs toward him, he responded by giving an appreciative grunt. She was sitting facing him now and turned while placing one hand on her thigh, exposing the pristine bare flesh of her opposite thigh. Looking towards him, she gave a surprised innocent look, playing the coquette.
He awkwardly rearranged himself, doing his best not to let her notice his arousal. Between poses she caught it but gave no sign of it. The thought of Todd, someone she always felt comfortable with but only thought of in a friendly, professional way getting turned on, especially when he worked with dozens of beautiful women, excited her.
She stood and perched one leg on the back of the loveseat, stretching her thigh muscles in a pantomime of stretching while awakening. This spread her ass and caused the thin material of her panties to stretch taut across her skin. She could feel the lips of her pussy moisten from the action and the exposure she felt.
With an exaggerated pout, she collapsed upon the cushions and raised one leg to block her face from the camera. As Todd snapped away, she placed her hand at the very top of her sex, stroking the hairs on the pad of flesh above her hips. A warm tingling began just beneath her fingers and she followed it, her hand traveling slowly downwards.
Todd breathed heavily, impressed with the poses she gave him and the great shots he was getting. As he watched, she slid slowly off the cushion until she came to rest on her knees. The camisole had bunched and collected so it rested just below one hardened nipple. She tugged the material across her chest, offering a view of the fleshy bottomswell of her breast as he continued snapping away.
Her knees were spread and she flexed the muscles of her lower abdomen. One hand placed against her crotch drove her farther and, before the enrapt eyes of Todd and his assistant, she felt the onrush of her approaching orgasm. She made no noise, the only sign of her condition was evidenced as she threw her head back, her mane of blonde shaking subtly.
It was not her most powerful climax, nor her longest but it was the first one she'd ever experienced during a shoot. The thought surprised her, considering how many she'd done and how much she commonplace most of them were. She knew it was inevitable though, considering how her personal life had stagnated lately.
As the feeling passed and her breath slowed, she climbed onto the cushions of the love seat, reeling in the peaceful aftereffects of a much needed release. Both men had turned their attention back to their equipment, ending the session, and she suddenly felt alone and discarded. She stood and walked to her dressing room, well aware of the silence of the men as they lasciviously watched the rise and fall of her asscheeks as she passed.
She stripped off the set she was modeling and jumped into the shower before anyone mentioned the fevered moments that had taken place. She was sure she looked a wreck and was afraid to be seen in such a state, her skin flushed and face reddened.
When she returned she was freshly dressed and much of the equipment had disappeared. The technician, whom she'd never met, wouldn't take his eyes off her and Todd was busy in his camera bag when she approached him.
"Hey," she called down to him, her heels towering her over the sitting figure. "Did you get the shots you wanted?"
His eyes roamed up her legs beneath the short skirt she wore, catching a flash of white cotton. "Yeah," he stammered. "More than enough. Thanks again Jess." He stood to face her, lazily winding his 40mm.
Stepping to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek against his after giving it the slightest of kisses. He was stiff against her and gasped in surprise when she came to him. Slowly, he relaxed in her embrace.
There was a limo waiting for her when she exited the building and a chill in the late Fall air forced her to wrap her coat around her. A pair of tourists; a middle aged mother and young teenage daughter yelped in surprise upon seeing her but hesitated, unsure if she was the woman they'd hoped for. As the car drove by she noticed them bending over and attempting to look in the back window with a squint. The older one shook her head and took her daughter by the hand to pull her away. Disbelieving, she was obviously disappointed she missed her chance at meeting the celebrity they'd hoped.
The doorman ushered her in with his usual indulgent smile when she returned. The elevator waited at the ground floor and opened immediately when she called for it. She was glad to be alone in the elevator, with its unmarred silver finish that reflected her image endlessly. Today had been one of the busiest days of her career and she was grateful it was over. All she looked forward to now was a leisurely soak in the bath and a much needed sleep alone in her overstuffed king sized bed.
A stack of scripts lay on her desk, potential work if she showed interest. With a fresh cup of espresso, she gathered them under one arm and carried them to the bedroom, where she threw them on the bed. Quickly slipping out of her clothes, they landed on the floor where she kicked them towards her closet, landing her brassiere and blouse in the hamper. The rest lay in a trail by the closet door, as she had always left them since she was a girl.
The water steamed and she rested on the side of the tub, her bare bottom chilled by the marble. With one knee crossed, she flipped through the scripts, hoping to find a part that would help her "transition phase from television to screen" that Philip always seemed to be rambling on about. She rarely went to the movies and knew little about what drew audiences in, her favorite movies being old black and white romances and mysteries. She thrilled to the western landscapes and vistas she saw in John Huston films and the suspense of Alfred Hitchcock. Though it was a fault in her line of work, she wasn't well acquainted with the cinema of today. What she'd seen of it had left her unsatisfied.
The bathtub filled and the bath crystals she added gave the room a light scent of lavender. Candles were lit and with restrained excitement she quickly stepped into the tub.
The first script she skimmed was a romantic comedy. She was sent such similar offers almost daily and rarely did such a movie interest her. They were too common and she didn't want to get trapped in the romantic comedy genre like so many young actresses were these days. She began reading another, an action movie that had the stereotypical love interest for the brawny man on a mission. This time it was rescuing his kidnapped son from a terrorist mastermind. Tempting, but not what she was looking for in her first movie role.
She flipped through the stack beside the tub and found none worthwhile. Frustrated, she threw them down, sending scripts scattering across the tiled floor. She dipped under the water to clear her head and enjoyed the sensation of the water dripping through her hair when she came to the surface. Eyes closed, her hand traveled between her legs, seeking the soft mound of her sex. With a hearty sigh of relief her fingers danced along her lips, enjoying what she considered the best time of the day.
Her nipples hardened into pellets begging for attention and her legs spread open, resting lazily on the rim of the heated bathtub. She was alone and had no reason to be discreet. She knew her body well and under her practiced hand she was soon able to climb to three orgasms. Her moans of lust broke the stillness of the penthouse and her ecstatic movements, brought on by a need to be fulfilled, sent water splashing from the marble tub, leaving puddles on the white surface below.
Temporarily sated, she reclined onto the custom formed tub and languidly began washing herself with a loofah harvested off the coast of the Philippines and available at only two designer stores in this country. She usually scorned such frivolous spending but the feel of it on her skin and between her legs was nothing less than heaven.
When she finished she stood and pulled on her silk gown and sat by her makeup mirror, set apart from the rest of the bathroom in a tiny alcove. A foot massager beneath her feet and a radiator warming her damp body, she examined what she saw reflected back on her. She was attractive, she never doubted that. Her eyes were a rare shade of green, almost jade that accentuated the light tone of her hair. Underneath the layer of makeup carefully painted on each day she recognized the tiny girl from the Midwest she once was. There were many days she wondered how she fell into the life she was living now as the highly desired, sex figurehead she portrayed to the public.