Subliminal Adventure Surfaces

19 Feb

Recently, I drove the streets in Glendale, Los Feliz, Hancock Park and Beverly Hills. Nostalgia kicked in. I transported myself into another time.

I was born in Burbank, California–home of Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, and Hollywood celebrities. I marveled at how many showbiz people embellished themselves in extravagance. Wanna-be stars feigned wealth. Some actually  slept in their BMWs and Benzes.

Once upon a time, this native Californian pursued an acting career. I took acting classes in Burbank, Toluca Lake and Hollywood. I encountered producers, agents, and acting teachers.  Many intimidated me. Some requested sexual favors with the promises of acting roles.  I didn’t go that route.

Back then, I fell into the 20 something blonde women category. We were the “dime-a-dozen.” Only the prettiest or most willing got the juicy roles. I was told to get lose 10 pounds and exercise so I wouldn’t be so pear shaped. Sometimes casting directors told me that I was too pretty. They said they were looking for plainer women. Other times, I was a threat. I was the “younger woman.”

I ended my short-lived acting career at a photo shoot. Franco (my photographer) and I met up at a producer’s lavish home nestled in Hollywood Hills. Afterwards, he invited us inside for a cup of coffee. We thanked the balding beer-belly producer for the use of his exterior.

Franco excused himself to the bathroom.

A minute later, the producer said, “Hey Beauty. Open a couple of buttons for me.” He raised his eyebrows.


“Don’t be a prude.  I’m producing a college flick. You’ll make a great cheerleader.”

“I don’t work like that.”

“God damn it,” he snarled. He reached across and ripped open my blouse.

Several buttons popped off. A couple of them ricocheted off the chandelier.

I grabbed at my blouse.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything.”

He forced my arms down.

“Now we’re talking,” he purred. ” He reached for the lace trim on my bra.

I rammed my knee into his crotch “Get your hands off of me!”

He balled up. “Damn you,” the balding producer groaned.

I found my sweater and wrapped it around me.

Franco came back.

“What took you so long?”

He briefly studied the keeled over producer.

Franco mouthed, “What did you do?”

“Ask him,” I said out loud.

I picked up my garment bag and make-up kit. “I’m out of here,” said as I bolted out of the mansion.

I don’t regret that I dabbled in acting. I tried it. Probably gave it up too soon.  Then again, acting was a necessary adventure in my life. It has provided me a treasure of adventures to include in my writing repertoire.

What hidden adventures are you ready to fuse into your writing?





6 Responses to “Subliminal Adventure Surfaces”

  1. Steve February 19, 2012 at 4:30 pm #

    Is this a true story?

    • never2late2write February 20, 2012 at 2:04 pm #

      It’s based on a true story. I needed to change things up. But I did encounter these types of situations back in the day.

  2. fivereflections February 21, 2012 at 6:06 am #

    i believe every word – producers built their careers using young girls as stepping stones to get to the top of nowhere.

    not sure were you are in your writing – but i can see your determination in pursuit of successfully writing what ever you choose.

  3. Kirsten February 21, 2012 at 2:33 pm #

    Riveting and so close to home for me. I had a similar experience (modeling, hah!) but I’m afraid to write about it, though I know it will come through in my writing eventually. In fact, it probably already has.
    Thank you for sharing this. It is truly great stuff, honest and inspiring. and rings very true. Good for you, kicking the dirtbag in the balls. 🙂 Your strength of character and moral fortitude are a refreshing change from the loose, do-anything-for money attitude that seems to be so pervasive in the entertainment industry.

  4. Ed February 22, 2012 at 2:53 am #

    Great share- it’s truly not just a silly cliche in movies & TV. I love the honesty of your writing because through you, we all have our stories told.

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