She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story)

by Sebastian, Max

  She left the bathroom door open as she left, too.

  “So I’m in disguise, huh?” I said loudly, believing her to be downstairs by now. She’d left some clean clothes spread out on the bed for me, and they were not clothes I’d ever seen before. Black jeans, black faded print t-shirt and dark blue hooded top. Comfortable, at least, and the perfect size as it turned out.

  “Of course,” she said, walking in the room right as I was pulling on clean underwear. Jesus. Well, she’d probably seen everything already anyway, while she’d invaded my privacy in the bathroom. “I mean, people won’t be looking for you, I’m sure…but if there’s any danger of you being recognized on a flight to London…well, reporters like to connect up the dots, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Here.” She handed me a pot of expensive-looking hair gel.

  “What am I going for? The Gordon Gecko look? Or the full Pee-Wee Herman?” I joked.

  Liona rolled her eyes at me, and took the hair gel back. She ordered me to pull on the hooded top, then stood behind me, in front of the mirror, to style my hair like some kind of boy band member. I had to admit, she was good at this. I looked completely different. Finally, she handed me a pair of dark-framed glasses.

  “Very Clark Kent,” I commented.

  Standing in the doorway again, she smiled. “I’ll say.”

  I glanced at her, and how the new hair color seemed to make her look so different than how I knew her, and the timing of her switch to brunette suddenly tweaked something in my head. “You’re coming with me to London?”

  She nodded. “If anyone is checking the airport for you, they won’t be looking for a couple.”

  I kind of liked the idea of a little company on the long trek to London. And perhaps a friendly face on the other side if it turned out that waiting while my wife had an affair with another man was harder to deal with than I expected.

  “You don’t have work to do? You can just take off for London for a few days?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “Hayley’s by far my biggest client. The others I can handle over the phone for a while.”

  Outside, a bright red Dodge Viper sat parked in the street. I dumped the suitcases next to it on the sidewalk, said: “You were trying to deflect attention from us on this trip, weren’t you?”

  She grinned. “Hey, just because we’re going incognito, doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves, right? It’s not my normal ride, so….”

  At least there was enough trunk space to get my suitcases in—and next to Liona’s suitcases, too. As she drove us to LAX at a little more than the legal speed limit, I guess I found out something I hadn’t known about Liona Fairbanks—she was definitely into cars in a big way.

  Anyway. We got out of the country in two business class seats—without being spotted, and that was the important thing. Liona’s tendency to babble constantly about anything and everything even helped to take my mind off things for a while.

  Then, after a four-hour snooze, I woke up feeling London approaching—and my nerves started to jangle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The aircraft circled around London a few times, despite making good time over the Atlantic—Heathrow’s night flight restrictions kept us up in the air, and it was anguish for me, knowing it would be that much longer before I saw Hayley again.

  Did I want to be there when she took that great step beyond her previous boundaries, and lay with Aaron Simpson? I wasn’t sure. But I wanted the opportunity to at least be near her when it happened.

  I was hugely relieved when the plane finally touched down—though then came the wait for immigration and for our luggage to come out.

  While we waited around the baggage carousel, Liona held up her smartphone—a phablet, naturally—to show me something. On the oversized screen was the website of the British newspaper, the Daily Mail, and an article packed full of photographs of Hayley and Aaron looking suitably loved up and fantastically glamorous together at the movie premiere the previous evening.

  “Everyone is reacting well,” Liona said, though her smile was a touch uncertain. She couldn’t quite tell whether I’d be happy or sad that the world was in love with a Hayley-Aaron romance. “They all want a piece of the great fairytale.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I nodded. I was trying to send Hayley a text message to let her know we’d landed, but despite what my phone was telling me, I don’t think it was set up to work outside the States. I gave up and just took Liona’s phone to scroll through the pictures of my wife with her new man.

  I was a little tired after the long journey, despite my brief sleep, but seeing Hayley hand-in-hand with Aaron in the pictures—and even kissing him in some, proudly displaying their affection—gave me a second wind. She looked so dazzling, and so very happy. What a change from the depths we had descended to, when she was desperately working every bar and restaurant shift she could get her hands on, the dream of making a professional wage as an actress seemingly beyond the distant horizon.

  She was having so much fun—and soon, she was going to have even more as she took her affair that final leg to full reality.

  Luggage finally in hand, at last we were on our way again. Liona naturally had a driver waiting for us, though his sign suggested he was waiting for “Garrison Tyler”, whoever he was.

  “I made it up,” the sharp blonde-turned-brunette grinned as I asked her about it. “I’m hardly going to have some guy hold a sign with our names, huh?”

  “I guess not.”

  As we climbed into the car, leaving the driver to pack the suitcases into the trunk, Liona said quite seriously, “We have to be secret now, you understand that, right?”

  “Of course.”

  She slammed the door shut, isolating us in the back of the comfortable black Mercedes-Benz. “Officially, Hayley’s with Aaron now,” she continued. “You two are separated—so if anyone even suspects that you’re still seeing her as well, everything could be undone.”

  “Yes,” I said, but I think Liona was right to impress it upon me: I hadn’t really quite caught the seriousness of all this. This wasn’t just an amusing little role-play session, or even the kind of wife-sharing date nights I’d read about in certain places online.

  Officially, I’d lost Hayley. For marketing purposes, the world had been sold the tale that her chemistry with Aaron Simpson was so intense that it had shattered her marriage. Go see the movie, our little message told millions of people around the world. See the movie for yourself, see why the most famous man in the world fell for this relative newcomer.

  It suddenly felt intensely dangerous to me, more than I’d really expected it to. Hayley and Aaron had faked an affair, and now they were about to make it real, she was about to sleep with him. Even while she continued to sleep with him, she would be faking the exclusivity of her relationship with Aaron, faking her love for him even as she faked her separation from me. But as with the temptation to make their sexual connection real, there was little to stop her making her love for him real as well—and dispense with me fully—since that was what everyone but a handful of people now believed.

  All I had was the strong trust I’d always had for her. She loved me, as I loved her. We were doing this to benefit her career, but I was also doing this to give her the pleasure of Aaron Simpson’s big cock between her thighs. I trusted that she saw that, that she loved the fact that I wanted her to be so happy and fulfilled.

  “…we’re going to have to be very careful at the hotel—if there’s any hint of running into movie people, we’ll have to have to come up with a story.”

  I looked over at Liona, and realized I’d zoned out completely during the drive into central London. She’d been talking the whole way, and I’d missed everything she’d said.

  “Which hotel are we staying at?” I asked her, hoping she hadn’t already said countless times, making me look like an idiot.

  “The Dorchester. It’s on Park Lane—where a lot of celebs go when they’re in tow
n.”

  “Right. And Hayley’s staying there too?”

  “Uh-huh. She and Aaron still have separate rooms booked, even if they’re officially a couple now.”

  “Okay. So what’s the arrangement? She sleeps with Aaron…and the two of us have to share a room? Are we pretending to be a couple?”

  A smile touched Liona’s lips. “Yes, we’re a couple. Hey there, boyfriend.”

  I blushed. “I….”

  She’d already moved on. “I’ll probably go sleep in Hayley’s room, if she’s with Aaron. Then you can have our room to yourself. And if anyone comes into Hayley’s room demanding to know why I’m there—well, I’m her agent, her friend. I’m just crashing there while she’s with her boyfriend.”

  She flashed her eyes at me, teasing me a little about Hayley’s new situation.

  When we arrived at the Dorchester and checked in, however, Liona received a message at reception in the form of a white envelope, within which was a room key and a small note on hotel stationery asking for me to head straight up to Hayley’s room and find somewhere to hide.

  “Now, you’re sure you’re up to this?” Liona said to me as we waited at the elevators. “There’s still time to back out, you know. I can send her a text….”

  “You can send text messages in this country?” I asked, a little frustrated that I hadn’t realized I might have been able to contact Hayley through Liona’s phone.

  “Of course. You’re not on an international plan?” she said innocently.

  “No.”

  The elevator doors opened, and she ushered me inside. “I don’t know if there’s much time—you have to get in there.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Last chance,” she said, looking sternly into my eyes. “We can end this now: I can tell her you don’t want to do this, you want her to break up with him.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “It’s happening.”

  *

  “Hide”, the message had said. But where? The suite was large, and I had to choose a place offering the kind of vantage point where I would see what I wanted to see. If I hid behind the curtains in the bedroom, what if Aaron choose to fuck my wife out in the lounge area, on a couch. What if I hid somewhere with a view in the lounge area, only to find the action moving swiftly to the bedroom?

  And how long were they going to be? It was nearly 8am local time by now—they’d been out all night and then some.

  I ended up gambling on a place behind the large floor-to-ceiling curtains in the bedroom, hoping that if something was going to happen, it would most likely be on the bed before the happy couple collapsed, exhausted.

  But then I waited, and I waited, and waited some more. I needed to relieve the pressure in my bladder.

  I guess I could have expected that at that moment, they would return home. I’d just flushed when I heard that ominous clunk of the heavy hotel door shut behind the new arrivals. I heard voices. My stomach sank. There was no way I’d get out of the bathroom now, and back to safety behind the curtains.

  As quietly as I could, I climbed into the large bath, and pulled the shower curtain across.

  Standing still, I fought to stabilize and quiet my breathing as I worked to figure out what I might say if Aaron Simpson caught me trying to spy on them. I don’t think he would even necessarily recognize me as Hayley’s husband, particularly with the new hair color and the dark glasses, but what could I say?

  I heard Hayley’s voice. “I just need to freshen up.”

  And Aaron Simpson’s world-famous baritone. “Okay, babe, but don’t leave me hanging here like you have all year.”

  “Won’t be long.”

  I caught my breath as the bathroom door opened, and felt suddenly so desperately vulnerable. But the sound of high heels suggested it wasn’t Aaron Simpson entering the marble-lined room.

  Her footsteps approached me, and she stopped right in front, a shadow visible through the shower curtain. Then, there she was, ducking around the thin white plastic shield, beaming brightly.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Hey.”

  She leaned up to me, and I stooped a little, responding to her signals to share a kiss with her. She looked so good in a stunning little black dress—she must have been quite a sight at the premiere earlier that night.

  “You got my message, then?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And this was the hiding place you chose?” She grinned, looking too excited to care about my lousy choice of hiding place.

  “I was using the bathroom,” I said. “Didn’t know exactly when you’d get back—”

  She put her finger to her lips, shushing me silently, then listened to make sure we weren’t discovered.

  “You want to call it off?” she asked me. “I can tell him I’m tired….”

  I shook my head. “Just keep him out of here…then maybe you can distract him so I can get out there and hide behind a curtain or something.”

  She nodded, then looked at me for a moment—a look that said to me: are we really doing this? Are you really all right with this?

  I said, “Go and have fun. I love you.”

  She smiled, then pulled the shower curtain back in front of me, and moved away.

  I sat on the ample tiled space around the bathtub, and managed to shift the shower curtain so I could actually watch Hayley at the sink. She was retrieving a fresh set of underwear from a large bag she’d brought into the bathroom. Red and black lace—very expensive.

  She stooped to remove her shoes, and then off came the dress. Rather than wearing the scarlet lacy lingerie she’d donned while I’d been Skyping with her just before my flight from LA, Hayley was wearing plain black underwear—something more comfortable for a night of dancing, I assumed. I wondered where she’d changed—at the movie theater somewhere, or at a nightclub.

  Stripping off, she smiled as she saw me watching through a subtle gap to the side of the shower curtain. I was rock hard to see her standing there naked, my beautiful wife, about to give herself to another. She pulled on her bra, and then a matching red-and-black lace thong, and a matching suspender belt.

  God, she looked incredible. Glancing at herself in the mirror to ensure she was as she wanted, flicking her long red hair out of the way over her shoulders. My naughty wife, about to sleep with another man.

  I was buzzing all over. I didn’t even care that I might not be able to see them: I’d hear them. I’d know it was happening. I’d enjoy the sounds of my wife fucking someone else. Another man holding, kissing those perfect breasts. Squeezing that cute ass of hers. Peeling off that wisp of red-and-black lace between her thighs before burying himself in her sweet pussy.

  I watched her rolling black stockings up her slender legs, stretching the black lace garter to mid-thigh before bending to fasten them to her suspenders.

  Adrenaline was beginning to surge around my system as I battled the confusing feelings of wanting to get out there and take Hayley myself, while also wanting to hang back and watch her taken by someone else.

  She was a goddess in human form. If pictures of her looking like this ever got out to the public, there wouldn’t be a teenage boy in the world who wouldn’t want this image spread all over their wall. She’d make the most popular poster pin-up of all time.

  The bathroom door opened again, and I flinched to hear Aaron Simpson. “You are driving me crazy—I’m not sure I can take it any more.”

  And there he was. I flinched, but then forced myself to freeze. Aaron Simpson, one of the world’s most famous men, was standing in a bathroom with my wife in just her fancy underwear. He was unshaven, but in a stylish kind of way, a few buttons of his white shirt undone and no sign of a tie.

  “You had to change clothes again?” he teased her. “You know it’s just us in here?” He approached, and knelt before her to help her connect up her remaining garters.

  “I wanted our first time to be special,” she said quietly.

  “Oh it will b
e. You could wear an orange jumpsuit and I could be in a blindfold, and it would still be special.”

  I could smell Hayley’s perfume, and it struck me as very odd, the familiarity, and yet it was not me out there being dazzled by my stunning wife, but another man kneeling before her. She turned to allow him to finish up fastening her rear suspenders, his face inches away from her cute behind.

  “It’s kind of a pain, getting these all hooked up,” he said.

  “It’s not easy being a girl,” Hayley replied, then sighed as Aaron ran his hands all over her shapely derriere.

  He stood, and she put a pair of ferociously high heels on, letting him stand back and admire her as she strapped them to her ankles.

  Aaron unbuttoned his shirt as he watched her, then moved in for the kill. I shivered as I saw him step forward and reach for her, his hands sliding around her neck to pull her into a kiss, before gliding over her body, taking in her curves and the luxurious texture of her lace underwear. He turned her, kissing her neck as he grabbed her breasts.

  “God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, that famous hint of a Southern drawl in his voice. Hayley leaned forward over the counter, and he slapped her rear playfully. “You are one world-class tease, you know that?”

  There was a little nervous exhilaration in her laugh. “I’m a married woman,” she said.

  “You’re still a married woman,” Aaron chuckled, and sank to his knees again behind her. He held her butt cheeks, kissing them, pressing his face between them, against her sex.

  She moaned, and said, “I’m a married woman, but we agreed on me having an affair to promote the movie.”

  Aaron peeled my wife’s panties down over her rear, over her thighs and allowed them to fall to the ground. She panted as he licked her from behind, and he pulled off his shirt. The man had a powerful physique—his upper body was rippling with muscles. The complete action hero, his face pressed against my wife’s pussy.

  “Your husband still thinks it’s a fake affair, though,” the Hollywood star said as he pulled open his pants.