Read She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story) Online
Authors: Max Sebastian
She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story)
Max Sebastian
is a writer, author and occasional journalist who lives in London with his wife and child. He has been writing erotica for more than 10 years, with his first full length erotic novel,
Anarchy of the Heart
, coming along in 2012, and a second,
Submitting to Her
, a year later. His epic wife-watching romance
The Madeleine Trilogy
was published by KW Publishing in 2014.
Also by Max Sebastian
Available via MaxSebastian.net
Novels
Anarchy of the Heart
Submitting to Her
Madeleine Wakes
Madeleine Plays
Madeleine Strays
What’s Mine is Yours
What’s Yours is Mine
A Killer of a One Night Stand
Novellas
My Wife, The Seductress
A Calculated Affair
The Wives with Benefits Collection
(Short stories)
A Mistress for My Wife
What Your Husband Really Thinks
Playback
The Other Guy is Paying
Retribution
Wives with Benefits Volume 1
(Short story anthology)
She’s a Star
a Hollywood Hotwife story
MAX SEBASTIAN
MaxSebastian.net
KW
PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2015 Max Sebastian
All rights reserved.
Cover image ©
Deklofenak
| Bigstock.com
First digital edition electronically September 2015
Print edition published by KW Publishing, September 2015
This is a work of fiction, any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or events, organizations or locations, is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without written consent is strictly prohibited, other than limited quotes for purposes of review.
The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read this book, please do consider leaving a review wherever you bought this title, to help others find this story.
Contents
Prologue
People always want to know if this was something she pushed me into accepting, or if I merely stooped so low that I tolerated her relationship with him out of some desperate attempt to protect our marriage.
The truth is, I had strong fantasies about my wife being free to sleep with other men long before she was ever tempted to do so herself.
Where did it come from? It’s a good question, and while I’ll never truly know, I think it had something to do with Brittany Snow.
I sometimes wonder where my ex-girlfriend is now—at the time, her misdeeds did make my life seem unlivable. I guess she was my first love, though time has now firmly quashed any desire on my part to see her again. We were together maybe nine months, and I’d been certain at the time that she was The One, that eventually marriage and house and kids and so on would result. I kept on seeing her hanging out with a guy from her French class, and my paranoia slowly built until I started receiving suggestions from a couple of my friends that they’d seen her doing a little more than just hanging out with the guy.
I broke off contact with her, and she didn’t come a-knockin’, so I figured she’d worked out that I knew about her and her fellow linguist.
After Brittany Snow, I did go into something of a mourning period, and even beyond the six-month grieving process I went through, it took months and months before I stopped fantasizing about taking Brittany back. She had been good in bed. Thinking back, perhaps the desire to have her back melted some of the icy jealousy I’d felt.
Did that experience set me up for the fantasy of my wife sleeping with another man? I’m willing to believe it.
I met Hayley in New York when I’d just joined my first law firm. She was a student at the NYC College of Performing Arts, and had already done a couple of off-off-Broadway productions. She even had a part in a TV pilot that had ultimately failed to secure a series. I was totally bewitched by the fresh-faced redhead, who was all smiles and full of energy.
But while she was marked out for success by her alma mater, on graduation she fell into the same hole countless other actors do when they attempt to launch a career in New York, rather than LA. Hell, it’s the same hole in LA, too, except the feeling of hope and optimism is stronger because there’s more happening out there.
Hayley was locked into waitressing and bar tending, with her only commitment to acting being her endless roles as an extra whenever a movie production was in town.
I saw her getting more and more downhearted about her chances as she hit her mid-twenties, and started worrying she was quickly becoming over-the-hill—the way the entertainment industry views women. My own career was surging ahead, keeping us in comfortable accommodation even while Hayley passed the time serving up cocktails and entrees.
Then came marriage, which provided a little distraction from her gloom. I guess things did settle down between us, we got caught in a rut. People seem amazed that anyone could find themselves in a rut with someone as beautiful as Hayley Martin, but when you’re with the same person for five years, you just get so familiar. Sex is good, but you abbreviate it, you take short cuts, you stop seeing your familiar partner with the same kind of awe and wonderment as when you first met her.
And then both of you get tired, and if one or both of you end up spending too much time in the evenings working, you don’t get to see as much of each other as you should….
Some of that was my fault, spending too much time at work. But some of it was also the fact that Hayley’s jobs at various bars or restaurants kept her out late at night, whenever the shifts were available.
But even if our sex life had been incredible the whole time, that wouldn’t have kept her from getting dispirited about her lack of success in the acting profession.
So how did my fantasy about her infidelity emerge? We had a big argument.
We didn’t tend to have arguments as a couple. Some people say that’s a bad sign for a marriage, but those are the kind of people who can’t keep from arguing. We were great at compromising, so invariably if there was any disagreement one or other of us would be able to see things from the other’s point of view, and step back.
This argument we had, though, I didn’t see coming.
Hayley got a role as an extra in a romantic comedy that was shooting in New York in the summer, and the role required her to sit on a bench in Central Park with a nice young guy, chatting mostly. And then she would have to kiss him.
When she first told me about the gig, I didn’t even particularly stop to consider exactly what it would entail. I just said, “That’s terrific, honey! Congratulations!”
It surprised me a little that she frowned and changed the subject after I reacted like that, but I wasn’t going to question her need to talk about something else.
A few weeks later, with her performance approaching, she seemed a little nervous. I tried to be reassuring one night across the dinner table. “It’ll be okay, sweetie. You’re going to be fantastic, I’m sure of it.”
She said, “You know it’ll take all day just to shoot that one scene.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And all I’m doing in that scene is chatting with this guy and kissing him.”
“Right.”
Just about here is where my manhood started noticeably thickening in my pants. I’d put money on the fact that this point right here was where my fantasy suddenly emerged in my head.
“What if I don’t like him? The guy?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Chances are he’ll be friendly, right? And the movie people aren’t going to cast an ugly guy….”
Then she looked at me in a slightly odd way, and said, “What if I like him?”
And here was where things in my pants were ratcheted up to Def-con Two.
Hayley blushed. “It’ll be really embarrassing, I mean.”
I was thinking about my beautiful wife spending all day on a bench in Central Park kissing some handsome wannabe actor, and my cock was hard as a rock.
“It’ll just be acting, right?” I said.
I was munching on a forkful of Caesar salad at the time, and trying not to reveal to her the strange exhilaration I felt at the thought of my wife having a fun little kissing party in the Manhattan sunshine, while probably trying to figure out why in Hell I was feeling that way about her.
And I don’t know if Hayley was just in a bad mood or something, having a particularly bad day. But she said sharply, “Don’t you care about it at all?”
“Huh?”
The standard response of the innocent caught dangerously exposed.
“You haven’t said anything about the fact that I’ll be spending all day kissing some other guy…. Don’t you care about me anymore?”
“Of course I do.”
She was just feeling vulnerable, I guess, tired of the rejection that surrounded her acting career like a toxic cloud.
“Aren’t you even jealous? What I’ll need to do for this role….”
“Should I be? It’s acting, isn’t it?”
She didn’t seem impressed.
I sighed. “Look, you’re a beautiful actress—I’ve always figured if your career took off in a big way, at some point you’d probably end up in some kind of romantic role….”
“‘If’ my career takes off?” she snapped. Inwardly, I groaned at the slip of my tongue. She knew what I meant, I knew what I meant, but in this kind of argument, there was no wiggle room. I silently scolded myself for not saying ‘when’ her career took off.
“Look,” I sighed. “Do you really want me to get all angry and upset over this role you’ve taken? Do you really want me to be that kind of husband?”
She was silent.
I added, “You’d really want me to be the kind of husband who might stop you taking your big break, because it involved a couple of love scenes with a co-star?”
“I just wish you’d care more,” she said, and it hurt like swallowing a bag of razorblades.
She ended up storming out, and I felt bad about myself despite the certainty I’d just been ambushed.