She was the biggest star on TV. Everyone loved her, wanted to be her, but it had nothing to do with her looks.
She was blond with dark brown eyes and she had a cute button nose that brought prominence to her lips. Her skin was soft and pink, the sort of skin that was part of a rigorous care routine. Nothing about her shouted to those around, and she was perfectly fine with this.
Her personality was intoxicating, however. It was the way she moved that people fell in love with. She’d stroll around on set, moving with such elegant grace, like an eagle soaring higher than any other bird in the sky. She was strong.
This was up until that fateful November afternoon, an afternoon TV critics would dub ‘news day doomsday’. It's safe to say her career was well and truly over from then on.
It started when she met Jason, the hunk of flesh that is her co-star. They hit it off from the start, always flirting off camera. It was so electric only the foolish would put it down to ‘good acting.’
This was more than acting.
That November afternoon got a little too raunchy, a little too real. There was a film crew on set that day filming a behind the scenes documentary. Three guys and a camera were strolling around and trying their best to catch the most candid pieces of the show, those troublesome line blunders, perhaps a little backdoor action or a shouting director.
There they were.
Jason and the most loved woman in the land going at it like animals in the broom cupboard. She was bent over the mop bucket, fully nude and gripping the shelves in front of her so tight they were vibrating, whilst Jason was doing his business, and doing it hard.
His trousers sat around his ankles, belt buckle scratching and clanking against the floor. The worst part about it was, when the film crew opened the door, neither Jason or Miss Universe realised. They just kept passionately grunting for all the world to hear.
It’s too bad it was filmed live, otherwise their career might have stood a chance.