The second thing I realized was that the pitying glances occasionally landing on me were not because my wife had just acted her way into Aaron Simpson’s tightie-whities. They perceived me as the nice young man whose wife was just about to hit the Hollywood A-list, and who therefore would be merely counting the minutes before she divorced him for a partner of her equivalent caliber.
“I hear Scorsese is looking at you for his next picture, Hayley, dear.”
“I’m sure he isn’t. Wouldn’t say ‘no’, though!”
Of course Hayley deserved someone so much better than me, she should have whichever Hollywood A-lister wanted to put a ring on her finger. The prospect of losing her terrified me.
I saw her air-kissing famous men in that after party, and wondered if she might want to marry them.
I saw her glowing when they said how beautiful she was, how fantastic she looked in the movie.
I saw her blushing when they said she was brave doing all those love scenes, but that they had turned out so perfectly, so wonderfully, so damn delicious.
Somehow, all of these emotions whirling around me, the glitz and the glamor, the pressures of seeing Hayley being snapped up by this impossible life, by this world of magic and lights and beauty—it was all adding up to the strangest reaction inside me.
I was walking around that after party with a hard-on.
I just wanted to get Hayley back to our bedroom, tear off her clothes, reclaim her from all this.
Chapter Nine
I was silent in the car after it picked us up in the small hours, and at first it seemed Hayley was just going to let me stew in silence. Well, she had to have been exhausted, she needed some down time.
Then, as we hit the freeway, she said, “So how did you really feel about it?”
I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the movie, or her sex scenes with Aaron Simpson. In the darkness, I got the sense that it was the latter, that it didn’t matter what I thought of the movie as a whole.
I stared at her, trying to read her in the semi-darkness, the orange streetlight flashing on her face through the sunroof. There were tears in her eyes.
I wanted to tell her how unbelievably sexy she was, how thrilling it had been to see her like that with Aaron Simpson.
But I was tired, my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, I didn’t know how to express myself after hearing those guys in the bathroom talking about my wife. And suddenly the fear was a little too much for me—the fear that I would have no hope of competing against such a man, that I might lose her for good.
But at the same time, I didn’t want to discourage her and her sexy new self confidence.
“I wasn’t expecting there to be quite so much…you know….” I mumbled.
She sighed, and I felt instantly that I’d said the wrong thing.
“You know it was only a movie, right? Not real,” she said. I’d heard her say it a hundred times, but now that I’d seen the movie, it was difficult to fully reconcile her insistence with the scenes I’d witnessed. Only a movie, yes, she kept saying that. But was she saying that to downplay the fact that what was going on there was more than just a movie?
I felt antagonized, though not by the idea of her being with Aaron Simpson. More by the idea that she would deny it, she would bend the truth in insisting there was absolutely nothing between her and her co-star. So I felt a little more argumentative than I really meant to be. I blurted out, “You must have felt something. You were lying on him, naked.”
“I guess so.”
Another sigh. As though she was resigned to this, she’d been expecting to have this conversation with her husband. Was it my paranoia to think that her exasperated, tired tone reflected her having grown tired of me? Was she thinking it was time to drop her old life and become the big-time celebrity, free to date other big-time celebrities? Had I already lost her? Did she still love me?
The fear gripped my chest like a vice—and yet my loins were still burning at the images of my wife on that big screen, romping with another man.
She said, “You knew this could happen when you married me. I’m an actor.”
“I knew. Your body is your canvas. I’m not angry, honey.”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’m just tired.” God, let’s not get into a debate about what emotion I am or am not feeling just now, I thought. That particular debate is a no-win situation every time.
I knew I had to be more positive, that was what she needed to hear right now.
“You want to know the truth?” I asked her, perhaps pointlessly, though it was more an attempt to restart the conversation.
“Of course.”
“I’ve never seen anything as sexy in my life as you up there on screen.”
There was a pause, and I wondered if she believed me, if she thought I was merely flattering her because she was my wife. Or if she thought I was just being weak and glossing over my feelings of jealousy at what I’d seen.
Then she said in the darkness, “Seriously?”
Hollywood might be the land of make believe, riddled with liars and cheats and fakery, but I suddenly felt my only hope with Hayley was strict honesty.
I said, “You know how I’ve felt since….”
“About me cheating on you?”
I sighed. “Not really cheating….”
“But sleeping with another man. Whatever you want to call it,” she said.
“Tonight it was like it was real. Nothing like that crappy TV pilot of yours—this was right there in front of me, on a huge screen.”
“So now you hate it?”
I shook my head. “I’m probably supposed to, huh? As your husband. I probably should be incensed with anger, or whatever. But I’m not.”
I suppressed the part about my being afraid, but then what was the point of telling her that?
I said, “Actually, I thought it was pretty hot. Hottest thing I can remember.”
“Seriously?” she said, seeming shocked, as though she’d rehearsed responses to everything negative her husband might throw at her after seeing her movie for the first time, but she’d never expected the script to include approval.
“I guess it’s kind of weird, huh? Every guy in that theater wanted to see you strip off and sleep with Aaron Simpson, and I guess I did, too.”
“You did?”
Her disbelief wasn’t helping me deal with the fear. Was I saying the wrong thing? It was hard to read how she was reacting to what I’d attempted to say.
“You were so beautiful and sexy and you nailed every single scene in that movie. I was so proud of you. It was a little overwhelming at times, but it was…well, a turn-on. You know, the spicy parts.”
“The spicy parts?” It was going to be hard to respond to her if she just repeated my key words in this conversation. But perhaps she realized this, added, “So you’re not angry that…that I did all those scenes?”
“Of course not. And it was in the script, wasn’t it?”
I reminded myself of those guys talking in the bathroom about the fact that Aaron Simpson might have added to the movie’s sex scenes to give himself more time with Hayley. Or about the missing sex scene that was too hot for the final cut.
“You’re disappointed I did it?” she asked.
“No, not at all. I loved it.”
“You loved it? Seeing your wife naked in the arms of another man? Making it look as though we were…fucking?”
Was she angry at me now, for being so approving?
Well, what was the point of lying now? I said, “I’ve never watched you like that before. I’ve thought about it, but when we make love, I’m so close to you, I can’t appreciate you like that. It was just different, you know? Sexy.”
“Sexy.”
“You were the hottest thing I’d ever seen in a movie, and it was okay to fantasize about you because you’re my wife.”
She laughed. It was like the most magical thing I’d ever heard. “You were fant
asizing about me?”
“Of course,” I said, feeling a little relief that the tension seemed to have dampened down between us. “Like every guy in that room. And probably plenty of the girls, too.”
“But you’re my husband. You don’t fantasize about me. You get to have me.”
She put her arms around me now, and I’d have freaked out that she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, except that the limo was moving along at little more than walking pace on a freeway that was choked with traffic.
“Well now I do, hopefully,” I said, breathing in her sweet perfume. “But I couldn’t while I was watching that movie, right?”
She kissed me, and it took me aback at just how soft, just how sweet her lips were. Had it been so long since we’d kissed this way, with such tenderness?
“So it didn’t make you feel at all bad, seeing me with Aaron like that?”
“No, honestly,” I said. “I know I should have felt terrible, but I didn’t. Maybe because he’s a big movie star, larger than life, you know?”
“You weren’t jealous?”
“I think I was, a little, but…I don’t know…it felt good. The jealousy…well, it’s just that I was more turned on by what I was seeing than jealous.”
She kissed me again. “I thought you were going to be angry with me. I mean, I know what you’ve been saying, but I was sure the reality of seeing it would make you feel differently.”
“It’s my job to support you anyway. We’ve been working our socks off for this for ten years, getting nowhere, and now you come along and do this job for three months and pay off our mortgage.”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re just happy about the money?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I sighed now. Hayley had always been able to twist things, to put words in my mouth and make it seem like things were worse than they were. I paused for a moment, tried to recall exactly what I’d been thinking while watching his wife in her movie. I said, “I think I responded to the way you seemed in that movie....”
“I don’t get what you mean—”
“You looked so happy, so excited to be with him in that movie. I know it was only your character, you were acting. But I couldn’t help but think you must be feeling something like that yourself, you know? You’ve made it to the big league, and now you get to sleep with Aaron Simpson—”
“It’s not—”
“I know, I know, it’s not real. But it must be pretty exciting for you to be doing what you’re doing now. I love that you get to have this experience—you so deserve it after the years you put in waitressing and being an extra, all that community theater….”
“I guess it has been pretty exciting.”
“It’s kind of weird to say, but I want you to enjoy yourself, I want you to have these amazing experiences, even if it means being with someone like Aaron Simpson instead of me.”
I felt his stomach tighten again at that thought of Hayley taking the freedom that was on offer, and actually dating Aaron Simpson in reality. My cock suddenly bloomed into a full strength erection. Jesus.
“You’re very sweet,” she said. “But if I take this sequel, you have to know it’s still only a movie. I wouldn’t do anything to risk what we have.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I said, only it was a little white lie. If I was strictly honest, I couldn’t say for absolute certain that Hayley would never go for the unbelievable offer that Hollywood now presented her. These days, it was almost expected of a Hollywood star that their marriages would not last.
Still, it felt good to me that she said it, that our marriage did still mean something important to her.
She kissed me, draping herself over me, her breasts so full they were threatening to burst out of that little dress of hers. God, it was incredible kissing her, what an experience. It always had been, but now she was a bona fide star, the new sense of confidence about her just made her that much hotter.
I felt her arm brush over my hard cock, and she made a warm purring sound.
“Mmm….” Her fingers splayed all over my lap, feeling out the immensity of my full hardness. She let out a little gasp. “I love how hard you get when you think about me being naughty….”
She glanced behind, looking at the traffic, at their ridiculous lack of progress toward home, and at the limo driver. Her hand never left my lap, her fingers remaining locked around my shaft, squeezing it through my pants as though if she lost contact, it would disappear.
She had to reach the switch with her foot, to trigger the raising of the window between them and the driver, lending them privacy.
The limo was driving so slowly I could hear her unfasten the zip before she retrieved my bare cock from my fly.
“Seriously?”
“It needs some air,” she said. “It’s getting tight in there.”
“We’ll get arrested.”
“The windows are black—nobody can see.”
I groaned as I felt the wet heat of her mouth envelop the tip of my cock, her lips squeezing around my full girth. It was like she was starving.
She looked up at me, attempting to smile though her mouth was stuffed full of my manhood. So pretty, so hot seeing my hardness penetrating her pixie face.
Well, we hadn’t had a lot of sex recently. She’d been so anxious about how this picture would come out—and apparently how I would react to seeing how erotic the picture was. And I, of course, had been working seriously hard just to feel I was still contributing to this relationship having had my wife suddenly dwarf me in the earnings stakes.
But the way she was licking me, caressing my length with her soft face, rubbing the tip of my cock around her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, as though trying to use my pre-come as perfume, made me wonder whether she might be responding to the sight of her own movie as much as her husband.
It had probably aroused her to watch Aaron Simpson making love to her, even if it was only a movie.
Was she thinking about Aaron Simpson at all, while she sucked on my cock? Fantasizing about how it would be to really sleep with him?
It was exciting to think of her as this sexy creature, who would use her body to drive other men wild. To drive Aaron Simpson wild.
I stroked her hair as she bobbed on my length, but worried that I was going to finish soon if she kept this up. It was kind of hot doing it in a car, with other cars all around us. Naughty.
She came up for air, and I said, “You’re going to finish me pretty soon, you keep that up.”
She offered me a mischievous smile, and wiped her chin.
“You want me to stop?” she asked.
“That’s not what I said—”
Another smile, at the sense of concern in my voice, Hayley thinking I was worried I was about to talk her out of this entirely.
She glanced over her shoulder again at the driver, who was facing forward as I always had been, looking relaxed enough, though he had to know something was going on in the back since we’d closed the partition.
Then she pulled herself up from the floor, one knee on the seat beside me and then a leg over my lap, this beautiful woman I knew so well, and yet seemed different now, a goddess incarnate, steeped in power.
I could smell the earthy, exhilarating scent of her arousal as she straddled me, her dress pushed up, her panties gone, revealing the perfectly groomed little pussy that so many people on her film set must have seen, including Aaron Simpson.
She was wet, needing no hands to position me as she sank down, enveloping my column inside her, the heat of her intense. She was already keyed up from the buzz of the evening’s event, perhaps the continuing interest from Hollywood’s biggest action hero, and now to find out her sex scenes were not only approved by her husband, but actively turned me on.
She moaned as she took me fully inside her, even before beginning any movement, just from the feeling of my hardness filling her up.
I gripped her bare behind
as she kissed me again, pulling her down onto me, my cock throbbing in her tight confines.
I loved how she smiled as she kissed me, and could not stop as she broke from it, leaning back to look at me, look at us doing it in a limousine. The old Hayley wouldn’t have been as bold as this, I was certain. But she’d bared herself completely before a film crew, and tastefully before the viewing public. She had a new confidence that was oh-so-sexy.
Sitting up, hands sweeping her hair back out of her eyes, her breasts so prominent and hardly contained by that tiny dress.
“Was he big?” I asked now.
For a moment, she flashed confusion. It wasn’t difficult to tell what I was talking about, though.
“I’m not sure….”
“Come on, you spent a week lying naked with him in a bed,” I chuckled.
“No, I’m not sure I should talk about it,” she said, and somehow it made my loins pulse that she didn’t deny having intimate knowledge about her co-star’s appendage.
“Why, you think I’m going to tell anybody?”
“I guess not,” she said. I could see in her eyes she was trying to work me out, decipher this strange fascination of mine.
“So, was he?”
“Not particularly. I guess he wasn’t so different from you.”
Stirring a little on my length, I saw her face change, her eyes widen, her mouth open, and knew that she sensed me throbbing inside her in response to her discussing her co-star.
“Was he hard when you were with him?”
Another slight pause.
“I’ve told you....” she said, confused.
“Tell me again.”
“Yes, he was. Sometimes.” She let out a little gasp at my response to her words.
“I guess you liked that.”
“It just happens to actors—most actors doing that. It’s nothing important,” she said, rocking her hips very gently.
“I’m just curious. Did you like it?”
I moved my hands up to her breasts, squeezing her through the thin material of her dress, feeling those little buds hard beneath.
She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story) Page 8
