Standing Naked In Public Read online

  Still clicking away, alternatively turning the camera to take both horizontal and vertical shots, Kate wondered if the rumors were true—that Angela Moore was a closet lesbian. Some of the tabloids labeled her marriage to People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” a sham. Jason was frequently linked to other women and Angela had, in the past, been seen on numerous occasions with a famous lesbian writer, Kristan Daniels. However, when Kristan and Angela were confronted about ever having had an affair, both women, along with their publicists, vehemently denied the rumors and haven’t been spotted together since Angela and Jason married over a year ago. Jason further insisted in interviews that he and Angela’s marriage was rock solid. The lesbian rumors were just par for the course compared to the thousands of other rumors the tabloids dreamed up for the high profile couple, which included such headlines as, “Angela seeks sperm donor: Jason impotent!” and “Jason and Angela have threesomes to save marriage”.

  Kate thought about the upcoming photo session she would be doing with Angela. Vanity Fair magazine contracted with her as the lead photographer for an upcoming magazine spread on the actress. Kate jumped at the opportunity to photograph Angela Moore.

  Her contact at Vanity Fair couldn’t believe Kate didn’t bitch even once about the assignment. Usually, Kate moaned and groaned to her Vanity Fair contact, Melissa, about up close and personal celebrity photo assignments. However, this was a photo shoot with Angela Moore. Kate didn’t care if Angela turned out to be like all the other celebrities she photographed, ordering the makeup artist around, complaining about the lights being too hot, or having a fit because her sandwich was made on the wrong type of bread. No, none of that behavior would matter. Kate was getting paid to drool for an entire day.

  In the five years she’d been photographing celebrities, Kate had never been star struck. She had never experienced even the slightest crush on a celebrity, until she photographed Angela at an Independent Film awards soiree. There was definitely something about Angela. Kate would get butterflies in her stomach every time she saw her, whether it was in person or print. She never shared details of her secret crush with anyone. She was embarrassed about feeling this way about a celebrity. She viewed the crush as immature and a sign of pathetic weakness.

  Angela’s publicist gently tugged at Angela’s elbow to let her know she needed to move on. Angela turned away from the press area and began walking toward the broadcast journalists, who were conducting live interviews. Kate could see Angela joining her husband, Jason, who was already being interviewed by a television reporter.

  What on earth does she even see in him? Kate wondered, surprised by the pang of jealousy that arose in her gut. Well, he is a handsome man. She reasoned. I’ll give him that much. But, if what the tabloids say is true, he’s a louse and certainly undeserving of Angela. Kate realized what she was saying to herself. I can’t believe this. I’m actually jealous of Jason Saunders. But, like the rest of the world, I want to fuck his wife.

  Kate turned her attention to one of the other Best Actress nominees, continuing to photograph, stopping only to unload and reload film. After she depleted ten rolls of film, Kate replaced the lens cap on her camera, gathered her bags and exited through the rows of photographers. She didn’t wait for the last of the nominees to arrive. It was too hot. She felt like she was going to pass out and couldn’t wait to get inside her air-conditioned BMW SUV.

  “Damn, she pushes her way in, then leaves before it’s over,” Tony complained, wrinkling his nose and making a nasty face in Kate’s direction.

  “She’s such a bitch,” William added.

  Kate pretended she didn’t hear them. They didn’t deserve a reply from her. As Kate made her way to the parking lot, she delighted in the fact that she knew these photos would be some of the best she’d ever taken at a red carpet event. She sensed the success with every click. It was an intuitive gift she had. When she took a bad photo, which was a rare occurrence, she knew it long before the film would be developed. There were so many factors other than lighting, like the subject’s hair and makeup, the film speed, etc. There was a definite aura that needed to exist. This day was right on the mark. Although the heat was uncomfortable, it would add a steamy quality to the pictures.

  CHAPTER 2

  Angela felt like she’d stepped into a hot oven as she exited the comfort of her air-conditioned limo. The thick, humid heat weighed heavily on her. She worried that her hair would soon droop and frizz from the heat, but then remembered her hairstylist applied so much hairspray and anti-frizz serum; nothing could permeate it, not even the worst L.A. humidity. As she stood on the red carpet, performing her fake waves and poses, she couldn’t help but think about how incredible this moment was. She was living out her dream. She was a movie star and an Academy Award nominee. It was hard to believe just seven years ago she was a broke, struggling theatre actress living in a crappy apartment in New York City.

  The opportunity of a lifetime came her way when Angela landed a leading role in a small off Broadway theatre production in lower Manhattan. By shear coincidence, one of the biggest producers in Hollywood, Ted McNeil, was in attendance during a matinee performance. Seated in the front row, Ted was under the impression he was at the play of his nineteen-year-old lover, Guy. He patiently waited for his beloved new boy toy to take the stage and perform. To his dismay, Guy never appeared on stage. About halfway through the production, Ted finally realized he was in the wrong theatre, at the wrong play.

  He would’ve left as soon as he realized his error, but was captivated by the lead actress’s performance. As the curtain closed for the intermission, Ted scrambled to locate the playbill he had earlier tossed to the floor. He had to know who this incredible actress was and, most importantly, had to meet her.

  He leafed through the playbill to locate her name. “Angela Moore”, he read quietly to himself. “Angela, today is your lucky day my darling,” he said under his breath.

  Backstage, after the performance, Ted congratulated Angela on an incredible performance and asked if she’d be interested in going to L.A. to audition for a minor role in an independent film he was producing. Ted rarely ventured from his usual productions, which were big budget action movies. This independent film was a special pet project. Angela thought he was kidding at first or that he must be some lunatic pretending to be someone important in the hopes of getting laid.

  Only after she witnessed the other actors trying to vie for his attention did she realize this really was Ted McNeil. The Ted McNeil was handing her a ticket to her dreams in the form of a playbill, which had his secretary’s contact information scribbled on it. Angela no sooner accepted his invitation to audition, than Ted quickly disappeared to search for his boy toy Guy.

  The next day, Angela called Ted’s secretary. It took three attempts as Angela forgot about the three-hour time difference. By 8:00 a.m. Pacific time, Ted’s secretary finally answered the phone. She instructed Angela of her itinerary: the flight, ground transportation, reservations at the Chateau Marmont and audition information. Apparently, Ted called her the night before and instructed her to get moving on this ASAP.

  That evening, Angela was on a direct flight to L.A. to the audition that would become the launching pad for her now successful acting career. Angela won the role of a down-on-her-luck welfare mom who goes back to college and becomes a famous doctor. She would later receive accolades from both critics and peers. “Angela Moore—the next Meryl Streep,” one said. “Where have they been hiding this incredible actress? Angela Moore’s career will definitely be one to watch,” another wrote.

  After her successful debut, Angela was offered a minor role in Ted’s next big action production. Her career was taking off and she was living rent free in Ted’s sprawling estate located in the Hollywood Hills. Ted had grown quite fond of Angela. Though he preferred the romantic company of young studs, he fell in love with Angela’s spirit. They became best friends.

  Angela appeared content and hopeful on the outside
, but hid a heart wrenching loss on the inside. What Angela gained in showbiz opportunity, she lost severely in love.

  Prior to her trek to Hollywood, Angela had been content on living out the rest of her life in New York City with her partner, Julia. Angela never dreamed of leaving New York. Her goal was to become a famous Broadway actress, not a movie star. Angela and Julia planned on spending the rest of their lives together in New York City.

  They met when Angela was acting in a dinner theatre troupe, Angela’s first paid acting gig since arriving to the city from her home town in upstate New York. It was love at first sight when she met Julia, a very tall auburn haired New York University student waitressing at the dinner theatre. Angela and Julia became inseparable friends. However, the more time Angela spent with Julia, the more she wanted to hold her, not as a friend, but as a lover.

  One evening while they sat on the couch at Julia’s apartment watching a movie, Angela took the risk of revealing her true feelings to Julia.

  “Julia, this is really uncomfortable for me and I’m not sure how to say this but,” Angela paused and took Julia’s hand into hers. “I’m really attracted to you,” she blurted.

  Julia, who had never been with a woman before, pulled her hand away and said, “I don’t know what to say Angela. This is definitely weird for me. I don’t think I’m into women.”

  Angela lunged forward and began kissing Julia. Julia pulled back a little, but then succumbed to Angela’s kisses. They spent quite some time kissing and exploring each other’s mouths. Angela, who was extremely turned on, reached up under Julia’s shirt to caress her breast.

  “Stop.” Julia jerked her body away from Angela and leaned back to the opposite side of the couch. “This is freaking me out a little.”

  “It’s ok,” Angela tried to assure Julia.

  “I’m really confused right now.” Julia folded her arms. “You’re beautiful and I’m definitely attracted to you, but it’s just kind of weird.”

  Angela reached her hand out, attempting to caress Julia’s hair but Julia stood up and said, “Please Angela, go home. I need time to figure this all out.”

  “Ok Julia, I’ll go home. But, please don’t let this ruin our friendship.” Angela gathered her sweater and pocketbook and left Julia’s apartment. She felt rejected and ashamed.

  A week went by and Angela hadn’t heard from Julia. Angela presumed she scared Julia to the point where their friendship was now over. Angela felt embarrassed, but angry too. Did she not feel what I felt when we kissed? How could she not want this? Angela wondered.

  Eventually, Julia called and invited Angela to come over to her apartment to talk.

  When Angela entered Julia’s apartment, she was surprised to see a candlelit dinner with two place settings at Julia’s kitchen table. “What’s the occasion, Julia?” Angela inquired, tossing her coat onto Julia’s couch.

  “It’s to celebrate our first night together,” Julia said, smiling. She gently grasped Angela’s hand, leading her to the table.

  “I thought you were never going to speak to me again. I was so worried,” Angela confessed.

  “Well, I thought about it and realized how much I love you and want you as weird as it may feel,” Julia said, pulling the dining chair out for Angela to sit down.

  Angela remained standing and pulled Julia into her. “Julia, there’s nothing weird about us. I promise you,” she said, leaning in to kiss Julia.

  The kiss was tender at first, but grew harder as the two women voraciously submerged their mouths and tongues into one another. Dinner was all but forgotten at that point.

  “I just can’t believe I’m doing this,” Julia said, breaking their embrace to lead Angela to her bed.

  “I’ll make sure you won’t regret it,” Angela whispered as she toppled onto the bed with Julia.

  The two women hurriedly undressed each other until they were both naked. Though Angela was thin and petite, she was attracted to tall, voluptuous, shapely women. Seeing Julia completely nude made Angela feel extraordinarily horny. She trembled as she explored and caressed Julia’s curvaceous, soft body with her mouth and hands.

  Angela relished having Julia’s naked body underneath her. Her ample breasts felt warm and supple against Angela’s small breasts and frame.

  Never one to be patient when turned on, Angela didn’t hesitate to plunge her fingers inside Julia’s hot, wet pussy. Angela forced her fingertips into Julia’s soft, silky wall, focusing on her pleasure spots, while rubbing her clit with the pad of her thumb. She suckled on Julia’s hard nipple while thrusting her fingers into Julia’s moist fiery walls, harder and faster. Angela could feel her own clit swell, engorged with excitement.

  Julia pulled Angela’s head up from her breast to kiss her, then grunted and panted her way to an explosive orgasm. Julia and Angela held each other tightly, kissing so ferociously it was animalistic.

  Angela was so turned on she knew that once Julia touched her, she’d be cumming.

  “I want to taste you. Can I do that?” Julia asked.

  “Are you crazy?” Angela couldn’t believe Julia—her Julia—was about to go down on her. “Of course,” she murmured. Within minutes, Angela experienced an earth shattering orgasm as Julia teased her clit with the tip of her tongue.

  Within days of their romantic tryst, Angela moved into Julia’s Greenwich Village apartment. As time passed, they talked of a commitment ceremony, children, and spending their lives together. They often talked about their hopes and dreams for their future together. Angela would be a huge Broadway star and Julia a social worker, helping the homeless.

  For three years they struggled, living in Julia’s tiny one room studio, barely getting by financially. Julia worked as a waitress and attended NYU fulltime, while Angela worked as a bartender at a local bar in Greenwich Village and auditioned for plays and musicals. They were poor, but madly in love with each other and hopeful of the future.

  The beginning of the end came when Ted offered Angela her breakout role, taking her far away from Julia. The two women committed to making the long distance relationship work. Julia promised Angela if her career started to take off, she’d move to L.A. to be with her. In the meantime, she’d be there for Angela no matter what and no matter how far apart they would be from one another.

  After Angela moved to L.A., they kept in touch by phone calls, texting and emails. Julia visited Angela on the west coast several times, taking advantage of Ted’s generosity to pay for her airline tickets. However, as time passed, Angela sensed something was changing in Julia and their relationship. Julia became distant.

  When Angela’s first movie had been released, Julia accompanied Angela to the premiere. Everything seemed fine that evening, but it was clear the next day that not everything was fine.

  Out of nowhere, Julia informed Angela she hated L.A. and demanded that Angela return to New York. “This wasn’t part of our original plan, Angela,” Julia said, sitting in a cab in front of LAX airport.

  “What are you talking about? Julia, you have to think about the opportunities out here. You’ll get used to it,” Angela pleaded. “The weather’s perfect. Plus, Ted will help you find a job after you graduate next month.”

  “This isn’t what I want.” Julia had made up her mind a long time before this conversation. “I can’t leave New York and I can’t stand this long distance relationship.”

  “I thought all you wanted was me?” Angela felt like her life was slipping away from her.

  “Of course I want you, Angela. But my life is in New York. New York is what you wanted—what we wanted.” Julia began to cry.

  “Honey, things change. My love hasn’t. Let’s finish this discussion when you get back to New York. I know we can work this out.” Angela pulled out a tissue from her purse and blotted the tears dripping onto Julia’s ivory cheeks. They sat in the cab, hugging and weeping.

  Julia boarded the plane and left L.A., never to return. In the following days and weeks, their phone conversation
s grew shorter and less intimate. Angela knew something was wrong.

  Her suspicions that it was over were confirmed when Julia called to inform her that she had fallen in love with a man. He was a medical student she met at a party thrown by a fellow NYU student. Julia tearfully confessed to Angela that she wasn’t in love with her anymore.

  Angela was devastated by Julia’s decision to break up. Even worse, Angela couldn’t believe Julia fell in love with a man. She couldn’t imagine her Julia with another person, especially a man.

  Angela grew despondent and suicidal. She wondered how she was ever going to survive without Julia in her life. Weeks went by where all Angela seemed to do was sob uncontrollably day and night. One night, while Ted was away on vacation in Fiji with a young Swedish hunk, Angela opened the medicine cabinet in the master suite bathroom and pulled out a new disposable razor from its plastic bag.

  She placed the razor on the floor and began smashing it with a hammer Ted kept in the kitchen until the razor blade separated itself from the disposable shaver’s casing. Angela hammered so hard that a portion of the marble tile shattered, causing spider web-like fissures.

  Angela sat on the cold bathroom floor alongside the enormous Jacuzzi bathtub and held the blade over her wrist. The master suite bathroom was decorated completely in white. Everything in the bathroom was white; the fixtures, the towels, the countertop, the cabinets, even the marble tile and bathroom rugs were white. It was a stark, blinding, bright white—everywhere. The room reminded Angela of a giant sheet of blank copy paper, without as much as a dot of ink on it. Angela hated the intensity of so much white. She had been meaning to buy a bright colored throw rug and matching towels, but never did get around to it.

  She envisioned the blood from her severed artery spurting lines in every direction, splattering the tub, the white paneled walls, and the bathroom rugs. Red droplets would be everywhere. She would paint the bathroom with her despair. There would finally be color in the bathroom and her pain would be lifted forever. She toyed with the razor over her wrist, allowing it to occasionally scratch the surface of her flesh, causing tiny paper cut wounds.