The brightest star in Hollywood, in need of a spanking: what Emily is up to

The book I just started involves the implosion of an Oscar-winner's career when a photo is hacked from her phone, and the independent director who helps her find her feet again.

The picture, hacked from her phone, showed Hollywood's brightest young star masturbating in front of her bathroom mirror. It was the most arousing thing Michael had ever seen. Though of course he felt terribly guilty, he could not help jerking off to it himself, just as he knew millions of other men must be.

In the picture, Kirsten's crystalline blue eyes were closed, and her long, beautiful hair hung down loosely around her face. She had caught her lower lip between her teeth, and her brow was furrowed in her arousal. Down below, she had lowered a pair of lacy white panties to the middle of her thighs, and she had run the middle finger of her left hand just inside the pink secrets of her--it made Michael gulp every time he looked--fully waxed pussy.

Her right hand held the phone, next to her perfect little breasts with the pink strawberry nipples that had only been seen on film once, for a brief moment in a shower scene in Dead Right, before she had the negotiating power to dispense with such things. Her left arm, thrust straight down so that she could reach her naughty pussy (how could Michael think of it any other way?), pushed her left breast up a little, as if offering it to the mirror, the camera, and to Michael.

Nude photos were one thing, it appeared. Masturbation photos, however, seemed to be quite a different thing for Hollywood. A half-hearted attempt was made by Kirsten's agent to claim that the photo was a composite, but that merely spurred the anonymous hackers to publish an analysis that demonstrated to the satisfaction of the knowledgeable that the photo was absolutely real.


And a masturbation photo of the girl who was about to go into the recording studio to voice the next Disney princess seemed to be the worst sin in the history of the film industry. In a span of two weeks, Kirsten lost her agent, her next three films, and--Michael estimated--something in the neighborhood of twenty million dollars of income that she had undoubtedly been banking on, literally.

Tentatively titled Directing Kirsten.