She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story)

by Sebastian, Max

  There was the occasional commitment—the movie sent a personal trainer to our house for an hour a day to help her prepare for the action components of the role, for example. There were occasional visits from Liona, or associate producers from the movie. There were script readings with the other stars now and then—some with Aaron himself—as they all made sure their dialog was locked down before there was any danger of facing a camera.

  There were also wardrobe fittings every now and again to help break up the monotony.

  The most exciting occasions, however, were when Hayley met up with Aaron himself. It happened three times during that pre-production process, initially for lunch, the second time for dinner, and the third time for a reading of the script together before a night out.

  Each time, we treated it as just another business meeting, and each time it happened Hayley reported back how professional he was, how pleasant it was spending time with him, but that his interest was purely to engage with her creatively regarding their movie project.

  Each time, though, I felt flickers of excitement watching her getting ready for her meetings with him, and I noticed that in each subsequent meeting with Aaron Simpson, Hayley’s clothing choice became tighter, shorter, more revealing, and more enticing for the male gaze.

  Then suddenly, as the long vacation was coming to a close, there was a flurry of activity, and after all those weeks of Hayley having little or nothing to do, she was suddenly caught up in a maelstrom of hustle and bustle.

  And suddenly, my time with her was very limited.

  *

  At first, though, things didn’t click with Aaron Simpson as filming got underway.

  Hayley came home in a terrible mood—frightened, it seemed to me, of getting kicked off the movie. I didn’t want to pry too much, didn’t want to pile any pressure on her shoulders, though I tried to give her the space to talk to me if she needed to.

  It took a long while—and half a bottle of wine a-piece—before I finally got her to open up.

  “I don’t know what it is—it’s just really awkward between us,” she told me.

  “You like him?”

  “Sure, he’s a really nice guy. Really professional.”

  “Good looking?”

  “Sure.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to be passionate lovers—but I…I just freeze up, and then it’s…it’s really awkward.”

  “So ask him out for dinner,” I suggested. “Get to know him a little more away from the movie.”

  “What, just me and him?”

  “You just need to break the ice a little.”

  “What if he thinks it’s a date?”

  I shrugged, but something in that idea made my blood start flowing faster. “Let him think that if he wants,” I said, but my mouth suddenly felt terribly dry. “If it gets the chemistry going between you two.”

  She gave me a little look, that look of incomprehension at why I would volunteer my own wife for a date with a Hollywood superstar.

  “And you’d be okay with that? Me going on some kind of date with my co-star?”

  I nodded, tried to act calm though the butterflies were starting up in my stomach. “What’s the problem? I trust you.”

  “Well okay…but if he thinks he’s getting something out of me that he’s plainly not…that might spoil things between us, don’t you think?”

  “So string it out—flirt with him, tease him, but delay any actual rejection of him until…well, until you need to.”

  The next night after the cameras stopped rolling, she’d done exactly what I’d suggested—asking her co-star out for a nice meal to try to get to know him. What should have been a fairly ordinary business meeting for my wife took on a whole different level of importance for me, because of the way she’d described it as a “date”. I knew there were different meanings for that word, different levels of emphasis. For one person “date” could be simply a night out in the company with anyone. For another person it was another way of saying “sex”.

  That evening I sat at home trembling a little, one moment scared that I was going to lose my sweet wife to this legend of a co-star of hers—that he would prove a little too seductive for her with the implied suggestion that being with him instead of me might help her career—and the next moment hoping desperately that some spark might ignite between the two, with Hayley coming back to me with a confession about some small indiscretion, and even a request to take her new relationship a little further.

  I found myself going online, suddenly concerned that I might be displaying symptoms of some kind of mental illness, which might end up ruining my marriage. And naturally the way the Internet works, my searches tended to bring up pornography, or erotic literature, which only strengthened the strange desire I was experiencing for my wife to sleep with another man. After a little more investigation, I was actually reassured that there had to be a significant number of other men out there with the fantasy of seeing their wives breaking their marital vows.

  I also found true-life stories of men who had allowed their wives to see other people, which both opened my eyes to how powerful an experience it could be, as well as to the warnings of this wife-sharing fetish getting out of control, and leading to the end of marriages.

  When Hayley came home to report that nothing had happened, that her date had been “a complete gentleman”, I had felt disappointment. But she did reveal that her co-star seemed under the impression that she was attempting to seduce him—and that he was obviously open to such an approach, though he was reluctant to make a fool out of himself.

  “He suggested dinner again on Thursday night,” she said, and the flames of hope reignited inside me.

  “That’s great!”

  “I feel like a bit of a fraud.”

  “Why? It’s just a date, he knows it doesn’t guarantee anything.”

  She shrugged. “I’m stringing him along, though, aren’t I?”

  “You’re an actress working on her craft. It’s no worse than method acting.”

  Thursday night came, and I waited dutifully for her at home, wondering if I ought to have gone out to try to check up on her, to monitor her dinner with Aaron Simpson, to see for myself how it was going. I’m sure Hayley would have told me where they were going if I’d asked. Yet at the same time, I didn’t want to appear creepy. I wanted her to see the act of dating another guy as being nothing too extraordinary.

  I waited, and reflected on the danger that this odd fantasy of mine might push Hayley to do something she didn’t really want to do, and damage our bond in the process. So I let it go, I didn’t press her. She came home feeling quietly pleased with herself, telling me that once again, it had been a nice dinner, but the flirting had remained courteous, the two of them aware they had to work with each other closely, both wary of doing anything to spoil things.

  “But I do think he thinks I’m just desperate to sleep with him,” she grinned mischievously. “That maybe when the movie is finally in the can, something might actually happen.”

  “Well that’s probably a good thing, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, and I could see in her eyes a little glimmer of excitement that she was obviously able to attract such a man as Aaron Simpson. That excitement had the knock-on effect of stirring me, too.

  *

  A few days later, Hayley texted me from the movie set to ask if it was okay for her to go on another date with Aaron, and that set me buzzing. Once again, it was the word ‘date’ that set my heart rate racing. She wasn’t just hanging out with her co-star, checking out some hot new restaurant somewhere—she was dating him.

  I spent another strange evening on my own, waiting for her to come back to me, wondering if she might stay out all night.

  She came home after midnight, buzzing and tipsy.

  “There was somebody from the New York Times on set!” she said, out of breath despite having taken a taxi back home.
r />   She jumped on me as I lay on the bed, and kissed me ferociously.

  “They interviewed me—said they’re doing a profile on me since I’m an up-and-coming actress.”

  “That’s wonderful, honey!” I said, though the throbbing part of me between my thighs only wanted to hear what had happened on her date that evening.

  “The director was saying how good I’ve been in the part, and how the chemistry I have with Aaron is so incredible….”

  “Fantastic!”

  Then she pulled away from me, her energy falling flat. “I kissed him,” she said.

  I felt a jolt of energy surge through my chest. “You kissed him?”

  She climbed off the bed, and I could see she was nervous. “I…I had a few drinks…we were both so over-the-moon about the Times interview…and I mentioned how we were going to have to kiss a few times in the scenes we’re about to shoot….”

  “So, what, you were practicing a little?”

  She nodded. “It just didn’t…quite seem like practicing.”

  She was leaning back against the window sill now, as though she needed distance between us, anxious at how I would react to her full confession. “I don’t know….” she said. “I guess he thought it was the next step for us…and we’ll be shipping out to Europe in a couple weeks, so we won’t be able to do much…are you angry with me?”

  I wasn’t angry, I was elated. But how could I tell her without making Hayley perceive me as some kind of freak. “Of course not,” I said. “It was me that told you to date him in the first place, right?”

  “You did.”

  “I knew there was a risk something might happen,” I said. “But I trust you, so….”

  “You trust me? But I kissed him!”

  “It’s just a kiss. And Jesus, you’re going to do more than that with him when you start shooting love scenes, right?” I felt it was my fantasy talking now, persuading us both that this was all great, that there could be no better conclusion that Hayley tumbling between the sheets with this Hollywood veteran. “This is just a work thing,” I added.

  “You’re not insane with jealousy?” Hayley said, standing up, taking a couple of steps over to the full-length mirror in the corner of our bedroom.

  “Should I be?” I asked her. “You’re not interested in him, are you? You don’t actually want to sleep with him.”

  “I’m a married woman.”

  “And even if you did, you wouldn’t want to leave me for him?”

  “Of course not.”

  I watched her looking at herself in the mirror, her hands running over her curves as though examining what Aaron Simpson might lust after—or what the audience in hundreds or thousands of movie theaters across the world would lust over when the picture was released.

  “So then…” I said.

  She laughed. “So wait. You want me to date my co-star, and I can kiss him if I like, and you’re not pissed at me at all?”

  “I said: I trust you.”

  She pulled her top up to reveal her fine midriff and her beautifully rounded breasts. What had happened to her bra? Then she slowly pulled it over her head. This was who I had sent out there to date another man. This is the exquisite beauty another man kissed tonight.

  “You know, I think it worked?” she said, gently stroking her breasts in front of the mirror. “Having dinner with him…making him think I was into him….”

  She turned to me, and I could see how hard her nipples were even in the low light from the single bedside lamp illuminating our bedroom. She enjoyed the effect she had on me when I watched her. The same way, I guessed, she enjoyed the attention of other men—including Aaron.

  I watched her pull down her jeans, and underneath her panties were almost transparent. Jesus. I did get a little shiver of pleasure at getting to see such a thing when impressive men like Aaron Simpson could not.

  “It makes him want you,” I said.

  “It makes our performance more credible,” she corrected me as she came to sit on the bed next to me.

  “So you have any more dates lined up?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Although he did ask if I wanted to get together Tuesday, just before we head off to Europe.”

  Hayley leaned over me, her hand slipping under the bed sheets, reaching for my crotch. She caught her breath as her fingers found their way around my raging erection.

  “Somebody’s pleased to see me.” She was joking, but the way she bit her lip as she slowly peeled back the covers and then my boxer shorts was completely serious.

  “It’s not every day he gets to see an actress profiled by the New York Times stripping off,” I said.

  “A lot of days, though,” she grinned, brushing her red hair back over her shoulders, out of her face, before lying down to take my stiff shaft in her hands—and in her mouth.

  “You are really hard.” She drew her tongue up from the base of my shaft to my tip. “It’s not always like this….”

  My state of hardness drew her up, to quickly remove her panties and then climb onto me again, to take my cock inside her hot pussy, riding me reverse-cowgirl, facing my feet.

  “You’re really wet,” I said, teasing her a little. “You’re not always like this….”

  “It’s just how I get when the performance is going well,” she insisted.

  “Or if the date with Aaron is going well.”

  She paused, and it could just have been because she was dealing with the feelings running through her because my cock was filling her up so tightly. But my dark side, the side where the fantasy was imprinted in my circuits, persuaded me that it was because there was some element of truth in what I said about her date.

  “That turns you on?”

  I felt my cock throbbing at that, as the butterflies in my stomach were sent fluttering all over the place. Hayley laughed, so I guess she felt it, too.

  I said, “I don’t know. I guess so.”

  “And because I kissed him?”

  The next throb of my fiercely hard cock was as good as an answer for her. It made her emit another a little gasp.

  “And what if I’d let him touch me?” she asked. Her hips gyrated over me, coaxing my cock with her tight pussy. Again, I was throbbing at her words. “If I’d let him put his hands under my top, on my bare skin, on my breasts while he kissed me?”

  Another throb.

  “You’re not the slightest bit jealous?”

  The thing was, I was jealous. A little, anyway. There was certainly a dark side to the way I felt about her being with someone else. And yet at the same time, it only seemed to add to the excitement, lending an adrenaline rush to what would otherwise only be sexual arousal.

  “You know, I think I am a little,” I said. “It’s just…I know that I wouldn’t lose you. I do trust you.”

  She said, “And if I let him take me home? Let him tear off my clothes? Fuck me on his bed?”

  Again, more throbbing down below. Hayley prised herself off me, then turned around to face me, taking my cock back inside her to resume her bouncing on me. She wanted to see my face as she continued probing me about this strange little response of mine to her date.

  “You want me to sleep with him, don’t you?” she asked. Again, my hardness betrayed my true feelings.

  She was so flushed, shocked at discovering this dirty fantasy of mine. But perhaps it turned her on too to some degree.

  She said, “You like the idea of me cheating on you?”

  I held her waist and thrust my hips upward to drive my hardness deep inside her. “It’s not cheating if I know about it,” I said.

  “And if you approve, right?” she panted. “What…is it about? You want…me to let you sleep with some other woman?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” I insisted. I was actually a touch surprised that, from her expression, she was believing me fully. I guess trust works both ways.

  “It…turns you on…the thought of me…being with someone else?”


  I smiled. “I can’t really explain it, it just is.”

  She grinned, and focused on the movement of her hips, fucking me hard, making the most of the enhanced state of my arousal that night.

  She collapsed on me as the orgasm tore through us both, and we were rolling around coming and laughing and gasping for breath—I’ve never experienced anything like it before.

  “You know…it could never happen, don’t you?” she said as we finally came to a halt, lying side by side, sweaty and exhausted.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’d never really be able to cheat on you—even if you said I could.”

  “It’s not cheating—”

  “—If you let me, I know,” she finished. “But even so, I’d feel too guilty. And I’d worry that if I really did it, perhaps you’d change your mind. The fantasy…well, it wouldn’t stack up to reality.”

  “Nobody’s telling you to do it,” I said. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether I really wanted it to happen or not, either. Then I added, “It’s just…if you were ever tempted….”

  She laughed. “You are crazy. I need to cool off with Aaron. Things are moving too fast.”

  I sighed inwardly at that, though on the plus side, I knew the two of them would be shooting their love scenes soon enough.

  Chapter Five

  It wasn’t long before the New York Times profile on Hayley came out, and suddenly everything was changing. For a start, we had photographers lurking outside our little home in Redondo Beach—some of whom seemed to follow Hayley wherever she went.

  As a result of that, the two of us moved into a hotel—the Belle Époque out in Beverley Hills—which was geared up to offer the rich and famous some protection from the paparazzi stalkers, although it didn’t help when Hayley was away from the hotel. Liona helped us find a suitable real estate agent to step up our search for a new home that would give us a little more privacy, but ultimately she told us: “Face it, guys, your lives are about to go completely strange.”