The Starlet Seduces the Stagehand

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INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – In this story we travel back over 80 years into the past and to the golden era of Hollywood, where 18-year-old Sam works as a stagehand for a film studio in Los Angeles. Grateful to have any sort of job in the difficult economic times, one of the perks for Sam is getting to meet famous actors and actresses. And none are as famous as the leading man and lady of the current film – Max Michaelson and Jo Jamieson, who have starred together in numerous films.

But while Max is one of Hollywood’s nice guys, it is a completely different story with Jo, whose awful personality is completely at odds with the nice characters she plays on-screen. Rude, selfish, demanding, egotistical, racist and intolerant, Sam and other junior staff are given strict instructions about how to act around the difficult starlet, who constantly argues with her leading man and drives the highly strung director to the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Sam does his best to stay out of Jo’s way, however when the troublesome young woman insists that he join her in her hotel room one evening after filming, what is going to happen?

All characters and events in this story are fictional, and any similarity to real people living or dead coincidental and unintentional. Only characters aged 18 years and older are in any sexual situations. Please enjoy your trip back to the 1930s, enjoy ‘The Starlet Seduces the Stagehand’ and rate and comment.

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At the age of 18, Sam Smith held just about the lowest position in the chain of command at the organization that was his employer, but the young man couldn’t have been happier with his job. A general hand at a film studio in Hollywood, Sam’s main function was running around on set performing errands on demand and he was expected to get things right first time without fail. His father and older brother had each expressed cynicism when he had taken a job with a film studio saying it wasn’t a real job and wouldn’t last, but Hollywood was making many films – a growing number in Technicolor – so there would be plenty of work for Sam in the foreseeable future at least.

And a job – any job – was important in the current year of 1936. America like the rest of the world was still struggling from the effects of the Great Depression, and while things were not as bad as they were in the years immediately after the stock market crash in 1929, they were still nowhere near the more prosperous years in the mid-1920s. The huge dust storms that had plagued the Great Plains, the Midwest and Texas were continuing, leaving vast tracts of agricultural land barren and unworkable. Overseas, things were uncertain to say the least. In Europe there was the communist Soviet Union in the East, while Hitler was making no secret of Germany’s increasing military ambitions and future expansion in this region. In the Pacific, tensions between Japan and China were at breaking point, and similar to the Nazis in Europe, the Japanese made few secrets about future expansion of their territory through military force if required.

Sam’s work was interesting, and the young man often went home star struck after seeing famous actors and actresses who when younger, Sam found it hard to believe actually existed. And in the current film he was working on – a Western – had some of the biggest stars in Hollywood in the lead roles.

The main plot of the movie was a love story between a cowboy and a young schoolteacher, and the male lead was none other than Max Michaelson, a handsome and sultry dark haired leading man who at age 28 had made female cinemagoers swoon for years. The female lead was played by Jo Jamieson, a slim and stunningly beautiful leading lady with perfectly styled red hair. The 24-year-old star of many Hollywood films was a huge box office drawcard and much loved by audiences, Sam one of them who admired the starlet and her work in cinema. The young man had felt somewhat light-headed when the pretty young star walked onto the set for the first day of filming. But Sam had learned an important lesson. Despite her good looks, talent and positive publicity generated by the studios and her agents, Jo Jamieson was not a nice person.

On the first day of filming Sam and other junior employees were sat down by their supervisors and given a comprehensive list of rules of working with the star. Miss Jamieson was not to be spoken to directly to by any of them, except in the unlikely event she chose to speak to them directly. Employees were not to engage in direct eye contact with Miss Jamieson, or to look at her for any longer than necessary. When Miss Jamieson made a request, it would be attended to immediately.

There were no such problems with the leading man Mr. Michaelson. He was a charming and down-to-Earth man and away from the screen married with a young son and daughter. He requested everyone simply call him Max and seemed to have time for everyone. He would always say hello, be this to the head of the studio who called in to see how things were going on the first eryaman escort days of filming or the ladies in the catering team when they served him some coffee. There was only one person on set that Max Michaelson didn’t seem to get along with, and this was his leading lady Jo Jamieson.

Max and Jo had had romantic leading roles in quite a number of films together, so it was a testament to their acting abilities that they brought such chemistry to their characters despite their intense distaste for each other off-screen. The laid back Max would make some sort of joke about his uptight and demanding co-star, Jo would react and the tension on set would last for hours. This was certainly causing issues during filming, with the movie now in production for a week. It was certainly causing much angst for the pedantic director Cyril Carter.

A nervous, effeminate and perfectionist director, Cyril Carter’s nerves were shot to pieces after just seven days, and Sam knew this movie was one that was going to take a long time to shoot. Firstly it was a long movie, with an approximate running time of two and a half hours when completed. Secondly, in addition to the scenes shot at the studio, much filming on location was required. Thirdly, Jo Jamieson’s antics were causing numerous delays as the demanding diva queried just about every line in the script and squabbled with co-stars and senior production staff, not least the despairing director.

Initially the film was to be shot in Technicolor but the studio in assessing the films it had on its books pending production and analyzing them decided that the extra expense of shooting in color should be reserved for the upcoming pictures, and relegated this film to being filmed in black and white. This had irritated Jo Jamieson no end, and she was not shy about letting her feelings known about this.

“I want people to see and marvel at my natural beauty, how can they see that when I’m in black and white?” the actress had scoffed on the first day when she arrived on set and found out about the change.

Sam agreed that Jo Jamieson was beautiful, but thought really she shouldn’t be referencing herself as such so shamelessly. Talk about a vanity problem!

This Wednesday, a bright, sunny and warm day in California, filming had moved out of the Los Angeles studio and into the countryside for a week. A series of trailers were set up, and cast and crew had just about booked out a large hotel in the area.

Sam was going about his business when the effeminate and fuming figure of Cyril Carter strode by him, dressed in his white shirt, waist coat and trousers, carrying a bull horn, other production staff and leading man Max Michaelson following him. “How am I supposed to direct on time and budget when my leading lady is nowhere to be found?” demanded Cyril. “She should be dressed and here to start filming. Time is money you know.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation Sir,” said one of the women.

Unlike the missing leading lady, the leading man was already dressed and ready to go, Max fully dressed as a Wild West era cowboy. Sam watched the group go on their way and he was relieved that the latest problem with Jo Jamieson was not his problem to deal with. Then Sam heard the voice of Tom, one of the sound guys. “Sam, could you please come and help us move some equipment?”

“Sure Tom,” said Sam, following Tom around the trailers. They rounded one corner from one direction, Cyril, Max and their group from another and were both faced with the same sight.

Outside one of the trailers, reclining on a deckchair was leading lady Jo Jamieson. The pretty redhead, her long hair loose was wearing a light blue robe similar to a Japanese kimono, her shapely legs outstretched and her feet bare.

Jo’s bare feet were being attended to by two young women, the actress obviously enjoying a pedicure. Another young woman was attending to her hair and make-up. A young man, a nervous look on his face approached the actress. “I have your water Miss Jamieson,” he said nervously, holding the glass out.

Without a word, Jo took the glass and had a sip, then her expression soured. “What is this?” she snapped at the young man.

“Water, like you requested Miss Jamieson,” said the young man, looking as terrified as if a hungry tiger or lion was in front of him.

“When I asked you to get me a glass of water, was I not specific enough in the instructions I gave to you?” Jo asked, the expression on her pretty face intimidating, the tone of her voice condescending. “Are you a Chinaman? You don’t look like a Chinaman, but maybe you speak Chinese and I should have spoken to you in that language. Did I not give you a direct instruction that my water was not to be refrigerated and not room temperature, but of a temperature between the two? So why did you bring me water that is room temperature? Did you do it just to annoy me? I’m not drinking this, I’d rather drink my own urine. Yuck.”

With that Jo threw the water away and sat glaring at the young ulus escort man with an expression of contempt, like he was a cockroach she had found in her kitchen.

“I’m really sorry Miss Jamieson, I’ll get you another,” said the young man nervously, reaching towards the actress to take the empty glass.

Jo slapped his hand away. “Don’t bother, I’ll go thirsty. You’d be sure to get it wrong again, and we’re running short of time as it is.”

Jo adjusted her position on the deckchair, and with her legs slightly open it was possible to see under her robe and the white panties she was wearing. The young man chastened over the glass of water stood in front of her still stunned by the tongue-lashing, which annoyed the short-tempered actress.

“Why are you still standing there?” she spat. “Go away, and stop staring at me or I’ll make it my business to see that you are without employment by day’s end. A Negro could do a better job than you, at least a Negro can follow simple instructions like it is supposed to do.”

The threat of unemployment hanging over his head, the young man scurried away, keen not to annoy the leading lady any more by remaining in her line of sight.

Cyril was clearly nervous about approaching Jo when she was in one of her moods, but approaching her was something he had to do. “Speaking of time running short Miss Jamieson, do you not remember what I said yesterday?”

Jo’s response was cutting. “I think it’s wonderful that you think that I listen to anything you say.”

Cyril ignored the bitchy comment. “I was very clear that you needed to be fully dressed and made up and ready to start shooting at eight a.m. It is now well past that time, and you are nowhere near ready.”

Jo regarded the director with disdain, and leading man Max could not resist the opportunity to put in a comment. “Jo, just so you know for future reference the time of eight o’clock is when the big hand on the clock is on number twelve, and the little hand on the clock is on the number eight.”

Max’s comment was met with an icy glare by his leading lady, and she did not respond to him directly. Instead she looked around. “Nancy, Nancy! Where is the newspaper I told you to get?”

Nancy, a thin, nervous and dowdy young woman who was Jo’s personal assistant came forward, carrying the requested newspaper. Jo snatched it from her hand without a word of thanks, and turned to the stock market pages, her face showing irritation. “This is crap, all the figures are out of date. How am I supposed to keep track of my investments when the newspaper can’t publish an up to date stock market report?”

Max stepped forward, a charming smile on his handsome face. “It’s okay Miss Jamieson, I’m an expert on the stock market. Anything you need to know about the stock market, just ask me, I know all there is to know.”

Seeing a chance to get what she wanted, Jo was more polite. “You know a lot about the stock market?”

Max nodded. “I sure do. The stock market is very big and it has a fence around it.”

Max laughed at the joke and the way he had fooled Jo, some of the other male actors who were whiling away the time caused by the latest Jo Jamieson delay by smoking cigarettes joining in, this met by glowering by Jo, who failed to find any humor in a joke at her expense.

Still laughing, Max turned to the other actors and said, “I can’t claim all the credit, my brother was the one who told me that joke.”

Besides Jo, another person to fail to see any humor was Cyril, the effeminate director’s nerves clearly frayed around the edges. “Miss Jamieson, if you could please ensure that you are ready sooner than later, it would make a most welcome change.”

Cyril turned and minced away complaining. “They say never work with children or animals, I think I might take a job at a kindergarten or a farm or a zoo. It couldn’t be any worse than working here.”

Jo took her own sweet time getting ready but eventually she was dressed and ready in her 1880s costume – a long lilac colored dress – and filming for the day could finally commence. However, Jo was determined that this was not going to be an easy process and behaved accordingly. Towards lunchtime, she was filming a scene with Max, the looks of desire the two actors giving each other during this process covering their distaste for each other, Jo suddenly stopped mid dialogue and called out, “Cut!”

Cyril was beside himself, while Max sighed deeply and looked at the sky.

“Miss Jamieson, you do not get to say cut, only I as director get to say cut,” said Cyril.

“Do I really have to say that line?” Jo scoffed. “It sounds so stupid.”

“Miss Jamieson, if it is in the screenplay then you have to say it,” Cyril sighed, the nervous little man striding up and down in frustration.

“A turkey could write a better screenplay than this trash,” said Jo disparagingly.

“That is wonderful, perhaps a turkey will turn up at the studio tomorrow with a screenplay that you like, and you eryaman escort can have the starring role in the movie?” suggested Cyril. “For now, you need to say the line in the script, is that clear Miss Jamieson?”

Jo’s expression was mutinous, but the actress showed her talent by immediately switching to the sweet-natured character she was playing, a role that disguised her true personality so well. The break for lunch gave everybody some respite from the production’s tempestuous leading lady, but while passing by the table where Jo had been served her lunch away from everybody else, Sam noticed something extraordinarily strange. Jo leaned defensively forward over her plate, eating with the same ferocity as a starving dog as though somebody might take her plate away from her, hardly chewing her food but swallowing large mouthfuls before getting more food and doing the same. Sam wondered how with such appalling table manners Jo got by at high society Hollywood events, but he didn’t stick around to speculate on this. Knowing how much Jo hated junior staff so much as looking at her, Sam assumed it would be the same when she was on her lunch break, so wisely went on his way.

Filming resumed in the early afternoon, and the egocentric Jo made sure that everybody knew that she wasn’t happy with the script and the filming throughout the rest of the day. Jo’s long-suffering assistant Nancy took the worst of the redhead’s fiery temper when after taking too long to run an errand that Jo had her assigned upon her was told that, “Next time she would send a cripple, they could do it faster.”

Understandably everybody was glad when filming wrapped up late in the afternoon of this beautiful Californian summer day, with the sun starting to set over Los Angeles. Cyril the director was close to suffering a nervous breakdown, despairing that he was again working with Jo Jamieson, and knowing that even when production on this troublesome film wrapped up he would have to work with her again sooner rather than later given that her name on any movie virtually guaranteed a huge profit at the box office.

Sam was packing some things away when sensing movement behind him, he turned around and was quite surprised to see the attractive red-haired leading lady Jo Jamieson standing there, waiting for her lift back to the hotel where she and a number of cast and crew were staying while filming on location.

Remembering his boss’s warning that he and other staff working on set were not to look at or directly speak to Miss Jamieson Sam did neither, but nervously noticed that Jo kept looking at him, with an expression on her pretty face that seemed somewhat disapproving. What had he done wrong to have upset her? He hadn’t looked directly at her, hadn’t spoken to her nor made any mistakes today that could have annoyed her? One thing was for sure, Sam hoped she didn’t make any complaints about him to his employers as he didn’t want to be out of a job.

Jo Jamieson’s lift arrived, the impatient young actress saying, “It’s about time,” when this happened. Sam finished a few tasks on the set, then he was on his way back with some colleagues back to the hotel to turn in for the night. It was of course the same hotel where Jo Jamieson was staying, but no doubt the starlet was enjoying far more luxurious and opulent lodgings than the workers on set.

After helping Tom with a last minute errand, Sam was getting tired looking forward to going to bed and was walking through the hotel lobby when he heard a female voice and a snap of fingers. “Hey you over there, yes you, over here.”

Sam turned and to the young man’s astonishment coming down the stairs was none other than Jo Jamieson herself. The actress was barefoot and dressed relatively plainly in a green sweater and a black skirt that came down to just above her knees, these colors looking nice contrasted against Jo’s long red hair and fair skin. In her attire this evening and wearing no make-up Jo certainly didn’t look like a famous movie star, more like a school teacher or a library clerk one saw every day. A very pretty school teacher or library clerk, but still nothing like a Hollywood leading lady.

At first Sam didn’t think Jo was talking directly to him, but through him. Perhaps leading man Max or the director Cyril as they definitely did not top the list of the actress’s favorite people? This had to be it. He turned to look behind himself, but saw nobody else from the set in the lobby or in the immediate vicinity.

“Hello, I’m talking to you, yes you,” said Jo, pointing directly at Sam. “You’re the blonde boy from the set right? Sam, isn’t it?”

Sam was struck dumb with amazement and fear. How did Jo remember his name? He seemed to be below her notice. More to the point what did she want with him? Had he annoyed her? If so how? And what was she going to do?

Finally finding his voice, Sam managed to say, “Yes, I’m Sam, Miss Jamieson.”

“Good, I did remember your name right, I have a brother named Sam,” said Jo. “Well Sam, Nancy is sick tonight with one of her headaches. The stupid useless girl always seems to get sick at the worst possible time that inconveniences me most. That’s where you come in. You are going to come to my room and assist me with some things.”

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