Sister Scribe - the Official Site of Chicki Brown

Disclaimer:  This may appear to be very racy, but it's not what it seems. Read on ...

 

 

HOLLYWOOD SWINGING

 

Chapter One

 

Shontae

 

What could be more devastating than a newlywed seeing her husband in an erotic situation with another woman? Another incredibly beautiful, younger woman. My breath hitched, and I froze as Devon came up behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her hair from her neck with a tender hand just like he’d done to me countless times.

 

“You don’t know how much I missed you,� he murmured into the soft spot just below her earlobe.

 

“I don’t believe you,� she teased, arching her back so her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her top. She wiggled her curvaceous rear against him and undulated her body in a slow wave.

 

My hands curled into tight fists. I blinked a few times to be certain the scene before me was really happening. He seemed to be completely absorbed, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

 

“Oh, you don’t? I guess I’ll just have to show you then,� he said, his sexy baritone rough with desire. With parted lips and half closed eyes, Devon looked spellbound. He ran his long fingers down the indentation in her back before letting his hands slither over her hips and down her taut thighs. In one swift motion his hands were under her flimsy top. “I’ve been away for two months. The whole time I was gone all I could think about was coming home and making love to you.�

 

She giggled and I gagged when he yanked the top up uncovering her perfect breasts. Fake, my mind screamed. I squeezed my lips together to keep from making a sound when Devon forcefully pulled her back into his crotch. My tooth broke the skin of my lower lip, and I licked away the metallic taste of blood.

 

She spread her arms out to the side with her fingers splayed on the wall. Devon trailed slow kisses down her spine as he dropped to his knees and eased her pants down leaving her standing in a tiny black thong. Thankfully I was in the shadows where neither of them could see the abject horror on my face. Feeling like a voyeur, I forced down the sick churning in the pit of my stomach when Devon unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor.

 

A lump formed in my throat when I recalled how I’d watched him put on the black silk boxer briefs I bought him on our honeymoon. I’d shamelessly wished I could take them off him, but knew he was expected at the studio at six and didn’t have time for any pre-dawn fun and games. His breathing was labored and the muscles in his back and powerful thighs strained with tension.

 

“And cut!� A voice rang out from the shadows near me.

 

I rocketed back to reality, thankful for the momentary reprieve. My lungs suddenly refilled with air as if someone had removed the hand they’d had clamped over my nose and mouth.

 

“Devon, you’re in her light,� the director instructed. “Lean your upper body to the left a little. Toccara, sweetheart, move your right leg to the three o’clock position. There. Yes, that’s it.�      

 

In a nonchalant move Devon pulled up his pants and zipped them. To my surprise his heated, breathless expression left as quickly as it had come. He now concentrated on the director’s words. He glanced in the direction of where I sat. Was he looking to see my reaction? They had purposely seated me where I wouldn’t be in his view.

 

His new buddy and co-star, Vaughn Breland had convinced him that my being present at the filming of Devon’s first love scene would reassure me that nothing freaky was going on.

 

Right. This whole thing was freaky.

 

Knowing how uncomfortable he was with the idea, I’d fought him on it for weeks, but he insisted. It was all I could do to remain calm and rational when starlet whatever-her-name-was rubbed her perfect little booty against the spot that belonged to me. Like most people, I often wondered exactly how love scenes were filmed, but never in my scariest nightmares had I imagined I’d be educated by watching my husband and a strange woman. This was what I’d have to endure being married to the man the entertainment mags had pegged as “the new heartthrob leading man.�

 

Oh joy.

 

I should’ve been able to understand that this was fantasy. I’m a fiction writer. My days are spent creating fantasy. Many times I’d explained how I came up with the love scenes in my books. He had no problem with my process.

 

Maybe because I didn’t get naked with my characters.

 

But I had seen them naked.

 

Today I found myself on the flipside and had to keep reminding myself that what I had observed was my husband’s job, not his personal life. Readers often believed I wrote from personal experience, particularly when it came to the sexier parts of my stories. No matter how I tried to convince them what they’d read was fiction, they winked an eye and said, “Uh huh� with an undertone of disbelief. Thankfully I had avoided those kinds of questions with my last book, a non-fiction autobiography I’d ghostwritten for an acquaintance that had since become a friend.

 

This wasn’t a good way to start a marriage. Devon needed to be assured of my trust in him. It wasn’t that I trusted him and hadn’t thought there was a problem until I felt something like Draino burning its way from my heart into every vein and capillary in my body. So this was what jealousy feels like? It was horrible, and I could imagine it eating me from the inside out. I had to get out of there. Fast.

 

“You doing all right, Shontae?� a silky voice said behind me as a large hand rested on my shoulder.

 

When I looked up into Vaughn’s gorgeous dark chocolate face, I’m sure my nervous laugh didn’t back up my phony pasted-on smile. “Better than I thought I’d be. What are you doing here today? Devon said you weren’t in any of these scenes.�

 

“I just came by to see how my boy was doing.� He stroked his neat beard and flashed me a blinding smile.

 

“Devon sent you here to babysit me, didn’t he?�

 

“Oh, come on,� He inclined his head toward me. “He wouldn’t do that.�

 

“You’re in the wrong business, Vaughn. I don’t buy those lines.�

 

“Okay, I confess. We thought somebody should sit with you during the bedroom scene. It’s pretty graphic.�

 

Of course I knew it wasn’t real, but the affair between Brad and Angelina started on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, right? I’m not na�ve. Many Hollywood romances began during filming. But I had to believe Devon was too decent a man to give in to on-the-job temptation. I felt for him though, with close to twenty people watching his maiden voyage, so to speak. When he hugged me before leaving home at five o’clock this morning, his body was rigid with tension. And he said he loved me three times before he went out the door.

 

Ever since Devon had snagged his first major role last year portraying General Ben Davis, the first black Army general, in a film directed by Denzel Washington, his career had taken off. That movie had opened to great reviews and above-average box office numbers and had gained the attention of a couple of other directors. His present film was totally different -- a suspense thriller with a few intense love scenes. I’d helped Devon with his preparation for that role and had seen with my own eyes how adept he’d been at becoming the character. I needed to remind myself of that fact right now. He’s an actor, and a very good one. This was not real.

 

As soon as Toccara pulled her top back over her head, two people moved onto the set. One marked the floor with a piece of tape where they were standing. The other quickly dabbed Devon’s forehead, touched up Tocarra’s makeup and brushed her hair back down over her shoulders.

 

“Let’s start where Devon says, ‘I guess I just have to show you,� the director said, looking down at the script. “Then we’ll move it into the bedroom.�

 

I’d seen the bed with lights strategically positioned around it in one of the other set “rooms� when I arrived, and all I could think of was a porn movie when I saw the lights arranged around the beautiful, king-sized bed.

 

“All right. Quiet on the set. Roll it!� the assistant director yelled.

 

“Rolling,� someone said.

 

“Speed,� another called before an assistant held a slate clapboard in front of Devon’s face and snapped it shut and the director said, “Action!�  

 

To my amazement, Devon repeated his last line and morphed right back into the passionate lover. Amazed by his talent and professionalism, I remembered last summer when I’d first seen him prepare for a role and literally become another person. I had to remind myself that he could fake anything. Maybe that’s exactly what worried me.

 

And now � oh, God � he was carrying her toward the bed. Convinced that I wouldn’t make it through the bedroom scene, my mind started cooking up all sorts of excuses why I had to leave. That’s when the director called “Cut!� again. For the next fifteen minutes he had Devon lift the girl in his arms and carry her back and forth until he was satisfied. First her hair wasn’t hanging right then Devon looked at the camera instead of her face. When they finally made it to the bed, the director said, “The way you laid her down was too gentle. They’re in the throes of passion, Devon. He’s not going to ease her down like he’s afraid she might break. And Toccara, let your head hang back a bit more as he carries you. Camera two needs to get a tight shot on your expression.�  

 

They went through the scene again until the director announced, “Cut and print. You two get into your robes.�

 

Devon and Toccara left the set, and a gaffer adjusted the lights. Even though I was bored, I refused to leave. I couldn’t. Not now.  The nude scene was about to begin.

 

Weeks ago Devon had explained how things would go, but I still wasn’t prepared for the moment when they came back wearing white terrycloth robes.

 

Vaughn’s hand landed on my shoulder at the same moment Devon turned his back to the cameras, eased out of the robe and slid his fabulous naked butt under the covers. I know Vaughn felt my shoulders tense when Toccara did the same. From that point on I sat frozen as the director moved them through the scene. It was all so choreographed and clinical, and I didn’t react like I thought I would.

 

Until the covers came off and my husband palmed Toccara’s outrageous breasts and she squeezed his buns. Suddenly I couldn’t sit still any longer.

 

“Breathe, Shontae.� Vaughn slipped his arm around me again and gave me a tight squeeze this time.

 

I dragged in a long breath, but it did nothing to stop my heart from pounding.

 

“Do you want to leave?� he whispered in my ear. “Devon won’t see us if we slip out now. We can grab a cup of coffee or something.�

 

“Uh � I -- � I stuttered. “I want to see how this ends.�

 

“It’s your choice, but it may be midnight before they print the scene.�

 

The thought of enduring this sight for another six hours made me want to poke my eyes out. “Good idea. I’m hungry anyway.�

 

“We can’t make a sound. Follow right behind me so you don’t trip over anything.� He waited until Devon’s head was turned and led me by the hand through the maze of equipment and crewmembers.

 

“Why don’t you meet me in the parking lot at Pacifico’s on Culver Boulevard? I could use some dinner.�

 

Blinking constantly to banish the images that had been burned into my brain, I drove the short distance to the restaurant. I’d only been in L.A. for six months, and it seemed like every week I was exposed to something new and strange. Strange being the operative word. Everything I’d heard about California was true. Even though L.A. was a major city, it was so different from New York. And it depended on which Los Angeles. you were talking about. There’s a big difference between Compton and Beverly Hills. Everything in New York was rushed. Of course people took care of business here too, but at a different pace. Fashion had a more relaxed edge, and in general people seemed to be more fit and outdoorsy. Heck, in Manhattan it was either too cold or too hot to spend much time outside.

 

I’m a Jersey girl through and through. California was different all right, and Hollywood was just weird. I didn’t particularly like the “L.A. mentality.� From what I’d seen, it was a bit too bourgie and materialistic for my taste. I’m sure the attitudes in Compton or Watts were different, but we didn’t live there. People here most likely considered me a typical uptight New Yorker -- even though I constantly insisted I was from New Jersey.

 

I did love the easy-going outdoor living. Nearly every restaurant had a patio, even the Starbuck’s in Ladera Center not far from our house, which had become one of my favorite spot to write. From what I’d seen since I arrived in California, the natural beauty rivaled anywhere else in the country. The combination of ocean, mountains, palm trees and temperatures that rarely reached extremes couldn’t be beat.

 

When I got to the restaurant, Vaughn was waiting next to his gleaming convertible Jaguar as if he’d been there for hours. “What’d you do, fly here?�

 

He grinned, flashing those beautiful teeth. “Baby, what’s the point of having a ride that can do one-twenty if you only cruise in it?� The mellow lilt of his voice reminded me of a Luther Vandross ballad.

 

“True.� I followed him through the pseudo beach shack and studied the modern d�cor and colorful murals decorating the walls. Vaughn reminded me so much of Kip, our friend from New Jersey. Also an actor, Kip had the same irresistible smile, muscular build and slick playboy aura. In spite of their scandalous reputations, I trusted both of them for their loyalty to my husband. According to Devon, Vaughn was deeply ingrained in this Hollywood lifestyle. He partied hard and slept with a different woman every night. Devon often said he believed Vaughn wanted the perks of the Hollywood lifestyle more than he cared about the celebrity recognition. He wasn’t after an Oscar unless the statue could get him some mattress time with a beautiful woman. Yet he had a code of honor and would never knowingly cozy up to another man’s woman. He apparently didn’t want the complications those kinds of entanglements brought.

 

Vaughn asked for a spot by the fire pit on the patio. The hostess seated us and sent a server to our table. He ordered a Corona. “You look like you might need something a little stronger. How about a glass of chablis?�

 

I nodded and the server left.

 

“So now you understand what your man’s job entails. Can you handle it?�

 

“Whew!� I scrubbed my cheek. “You know, I went in convinced that I was so centered and mature. Now I’m not so sure. It was staged, but still very hard to watch.�

 

“Yeah, I guess it would be. Just know that it’s only work, Shontae. When Devon gets home tonight he’s going to be exhausted.�

 

“You mean don’t nag him.�

 

Vaughn leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t see you as the nagging type.� He smirked and took a sip of his beer. “Just let him know you’re not upset. However you do that is up to you.�

 

This added yet another new test to the ones I’d faced every week since coming to L.A. Everything from learning my way around to finding places where I could work presented a challenge. The major one had been leaving my best friends behind in Jersey. We’d been logging in a lot of phone time, but it wasn’t the same as sitting together and commiserating over a cup of tea. I missed them so much. Just six months earlier Linda and Jo, my two BFF’s helped me pack my apartment.