This a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
"Have you ever kissed a stranger?" I took a sharp inhale of breath and there was an initial shock at the question but it soon passed as this was an example of the type of propositions a young actress is often faced with at these glamorous A list parties. It was merely a crude reality.
I was wearing a rather stylish little black dress with just enough shimmer to catch the eye. My honey brown eyes and thick eyelashes were a particularly seductive feature. In other ways, I was very much the epitome of a glamorous starlet. I had long legs and a slim physique but for most men their eyes often landed on my chest and the bold cleavage that I often revealed.
The hours I spent on pampering, waxing, makeup and finding the perfect outfit were never quite appreciated by men like this. They were surrounded by beauties and they seemed to think looking like this was effortless.
Ajit was dressed in his open collar shirt, gold chain and a lit cigar in his hand. He was dressed like a man that had been transported in a time machine from the 80's. He was a 60 year old rich and successful movie maker who had drunkenly tried to whisper but it was more like he clumsily shouted in my ear as he was afraid of being drowned out by the music. The grotesque spittle from his mouth landing on my ears due to his proximity as he leaned in. His hand resting on my thigh pressing the dress against me.
While he had success and money, it did not afford him class. I was younger than his daughters and he was hitting on me at a party of our contemporaries. He could certainly help my flailing career but the creepiness of these men always gave me the shivers.
It was an after party following an awards ceremony and my boyfriend had practically dragged me to it. I was at a cross roads in my career. At the tender age of 22, I was already feeling my star begin to wane. I had a meteoric rise since starting 5 years ago but starlets shine bright and burnout faster.
Many of my contemporaries had fallen into drugs and alcohol abuse. Every year there was someone hotter and younger. Even at 22, I felt closer to 30 than my teens. It was just the way the industry aged young women and we were just a side piece for the men, who were considered the real stars of the show. My career was falling apart as I failed to land a big role despite reducing my standards and submitting taped auditions.
My mother, my former Momager, the single most influential person in my life, the one who had got me my big break in Bollywood would be proven right, once again. She had warned me that I would not last without her, that the industry would chew me up and spit me out but one must stand on their own two feet to truly know what it is to walk on to your own path.
After my break through movies, my relationship became strained with my mother and she would not listen to my wants and needs. I felt I had no choice and I brought in a more seasoned professional as an agent and slowly pushed my mother into the shadows. This left a bitter relationship with my mother as she saw it as a betrayal and a lack of loyalty.
My mother did not approve of my boyfriend either. This only caused our relationship to become even more frosty and he convinced me to cut her off as she was always interfering in our relationship. Since an initial first successful movie, my career never hit the heights it had promised. My boyfriend came from a traditional Bollywood family and he convinced to dress more traditionally as I moved away from the sexy and siren dresses I usually wore to parties.
"I don't kiss strangers and I don't like being kissed by strangers," I replied as I grabbed my drink and went back to my boyfriend. We left not so long after.
My boyfriend was from a nepo family and he was due to be launched shortly. I had no such 'launch'. I had my mother who was able to get me an audition as she knew the industry from having worked in it when she was a young woman. I had invested 4 years into my boyfriend and he had promised to marry me. The failure of my own career did not bother me as I was investing in my future boyfriend and who said housewives had a bad life?
Two years ago I had fallen pregnant but he convinced me to get an abortion as it would harm our reputation to have a baby out of wedlock. This hurt me and I had some loose romantic idea that the pregnancy would convince him to marry me sooner.
Life went on and he was now getting more and more attention as he began doing press, social media and he had just wrapped shooting for his first movie which was a blockbuster. He was in a supporting role but it was a huge project for any actor to be a part of and the association was creating a buzz around him.
I began to notice subtle changes in him at first. He would speak to me less and the replies took longer. He was busy so I tried not to dwell on this but of course, I had paranoia.
On a podcast with the 'bro' crowd he joked about being single. "A man must fertilize the whole field and not just a tiny patch." He joked at one point. I pulled him up on it but he explained it away as he wanted to create an image and a profile for himself.
He stopped taking me to parties he was attending. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but then on social media I would see pictures of him with other girls. Arms around them. Kisses on the cheek. Red lipstick on his cheek and shirts. He was trying to build a playboy persona for himself and I seemed to be an afterthought.
I felt lonely and sometimes I acted out. In some ways, I had let my own career dwindle and put my eggs into my boyfriend's basket. I made sacrifices and I still felt the pain of my abortion. He never seemed to appreciate my sacrifices.
I would become irate with him as he was phasing me out of his life. He would re-assure me that everything was ok and I was still his priority. I knew I was getting played and gaslit but I would allow him to calm my anger for small concessions.
It was the screening for his movie and I told him we would have to attend together. I needed the world to know it was official. I felt trapped in my apartment, my social life cut off by my boyfriend. I was always left on read by him. He had no time for me.
"Alisa, babe, don't be silly," he replied eventually to all of my calls and messages. I never counted but I knew the number would make me seem unstable. I was losing a grip on my life and I desperately tried to cling on.
"Don't shut me out like this. I will not wait here like some old fashioned mistress," I replied angrily. I was trying to call him but he had diverted my calls to voicemail. His voicemails were full and I could not leave anymore.
"I don't want you to wait. You should see other people," he wrote back.
The room began spinning and I collapsed on the floor. The next time I opened my eyes, my flatmate, Shruti is stood over me.
She helped me to a seat and got me a glass of water. I was panting as I tried to frantically dial him but no more voicemail. Just an error tone. I tried messaging him but the messages would not send. He had blocked me.
I had to see him. It would all be ok once he saw me. I told myself.
I did some make up and made my way out. Shruti tried to stop me but I could not be stopped. I was convinced I had to win him back.
I went to his house. I had visited before and I knew his parents. They never much approved of me. I was not from an established Bollywood family and they saw me as an outsider.
They had bright decoration lights on and there was some kind of festival celebratory atmosphere. His father saw me and then he came.
"What are you doing here?!" It wasn't a question he was seeking an answer to.
"I need to see you. I have not seen you in so long," I replied.
"It is over. I have moved on. You need to move on," he said. It was cold and it lacked any emotion. This was the man I left my family for, ruined my career, abandoned motherhood, sacrificed years for.
"How can you say that to me? It is me? Babe? How can you say that to me?!" I was growing angry, hurt and frustrated. My heart was breaking. It was shattering.
He turned to face away from me. He could not look at me, "Just leave." He said.
I put my hands on his face and turned him to face me, "look at me. Please, babe." He was fighting me.
"I have had enough of this," his father spoke and pushed me to the ground on the lawn.
"You call yourself men? Men don't hurt women. Men take care of women," I said as I cried.
My boyfriends eyes lit up with red, "you do not speak to my father like that."
He began beating me with repeated slaps and they dragged me to the gates where the security stood by and watched on. I was beaten and limp on the ground when they eventually stopped. Shruti was stood outside and put her shawl over me as she took me to her car beaten and bruised.
My body was numb to the pain, the real pain was from my dignity being taken away. The person I loved the most, turned on me and brutalized me.
Shruti tended to my wounds once we were back in the apartment but I pushed her away. I just needed to be alone with my sorrow.
Shruti came into my room a few hours later. She didn't speak but just gave me her phone. The phone had a picture of my mom on it and then I heard my mom's voice.
"Alisa, are you there?" Her voice had not changed. I had not heard it in so long. It touched me somewhere deep.
"Mom!" I screamed in a blood curdling scream. My body just felt like it was breaking down as I curled up in a ball.
My mom was in New York. She took the next flight out of New York to come to me.
She found me listening to old voicemails curled up in bed. The curtains drawn. My face and body bruised but nothing compared to how my heart ached.
"Is this what I gave birth to? Is this who I raised? This weak pathetic little girl? No, I raised a behemoth. A queen that bowed to no man," she said as she dramatically opened the curtains with sweeping movements. I curled away like a vampire afraid of the light.
My mother was not to be deterred and came to me and shook me by my shoulders.
I would not be roused and I avoided eye contact.
"I am dead. I am dead. Just bury me," a tad melodramatic but I felt that my world was crumbling.
She smiled, the smile that recognized the little dramatic princess she had raised.
"You will bury me, before you think of dying," my mother said in her own dramatic way.
She got up and made some of her famous chickpea curry. The smell was awakening my senses as it lifted the dullness and I was unable to feel anything in the aftermath.
My mother fed me the food and I could not refuse her tender touch.
She soon began to pack my bags.
"I don't want to leave, Mom," I said petulantly.
"There are no devils in hell because they are living in Mumbai," she said.
She would not take no for an answer and I returned to New York.
My career in acting started before I finished college so she insisted I go to film school.
The new surrounds helped me to forget about my troubles and move past my mistakes. My mother had always raised me to be strong and independent and I only had myself to blame for becoming weak and dependent on a nepo baby's false promises.
My mother took over control of my social media as I went to film school. I avoided social media myself due to the stories that were written about me. I focused on film school but after the initial few months it began to wane on me. It dawned on me that I was surrounded by people who merely hoped for a fraction of the success that I had already achieved.
It did not take me long to move on and I began an affair with a professor. I always had a thing for older men. Maybe because my own father was never around.
After a few months I began to check in on my social media and I was surprised to find that my profile was solely made up of summer pictures I took on holiday. Short revealing dresses. Bikinis galore. The comments were all thirsty men but my engagements had gone up significantly.
Soon I grew tired of the affair and film school. I missed the bright lights and thrill of Bollywood so I approached my mother about going back.
"You will not stray on this occasion," my mother said sternly.
So we went back and settled into an apartment in the midst of Mumbai upper society. Enough time had passed for the rumor cycle to move on and the nepo babies family did their best to cover up what had happened. Soon my mother got us invites to parties through her connections. She had instructed me to flirt and put myself out there with solely influential people.
She made me dress a certain way. Sexy, desirable and unattainable. The dress was strapless and I had to keep pulling it up to ensure my breasts were covered and my legs were pretty much on show as the dress only went down to mid thigh. It was a literal little black dress. Stiletto high heels with my toes on show. I had to appeal to every fetish.
She schmoozed and worked the crowd and I tried to do similar. She still had her looks even in her late 40's and men would flock to her. She had no trouble in attracting men and it was one gift she passed on to me. The difference was that I hated receiving creepy attention but my mother reveled in it.
The creepy 60 year old director was here once more. He approached me once more as I nursed a glass of champagne. I was a little stiff from our last exchange but perspectives had changed.
Mr Sharma was a big fish and if we reeled him in then he would pay just rewards. This time, I had no safety net and I could not be dismissive of his attention.
He was less drunk this time as he approached me. His hand brushing against my bare leg. He was perhaps waiting for a reaction but I played it cool.
"So, do you kiss strangers?" He asked again. I was pretty firm in my answer last time but I tried to follow my mother's instructions.
"Who said we are strangers, Mr Sharma?" I replied in a playful manner.
"Oh, very good. You never seemed to be the type of girl to be shy," he replied. He seemed a little surprised by my reaction. It was a realization that perhaps the best way to deal with this creepy attention was to play along with it. My mother had a saying;-
"Some men may have the balls to strip you naked and get you hot and bothered but when their dick is inside you, they don't have the balls to fuck you to climax."
Perhaps Mr Sharma was just this type of man. His hand went around my back, just resting on my lower back.
"Be careful, Sir. There are many people around, including your wife," I said in a teasing tone. A tone that suggested I did not mind his touching.
We were facing the party and a wall was behind us. His pinky finger traces the panty line at the top of my thong.
"Am I behaving inappropriately, that I should be worried?" He said but while angling away from the rest of the party. Suggesting he had something to hide
"Nothing inappropriate, Sir. But a few centimeters lower and your hand may be in dangerous waters," I replied in a flirtatious tone, almost daring him to enter dangerous waters.
His hand slipped lower until he groped my ass. He squeezed it hard. I took a gulp of champagne at this and smiled at the other partygoers.
"Do you like to grope strangers?" I asked as I continued the flirtatious tone.
"Who said we are strangers? Are we not friends?" He replied. This was my opening. I had baited him and now he was caught.
"We are agreed. Friends do not complain about such things. Perhaps we can continue this in a more private setting when I audition for your next movie," I said as politely excused myself and made small talk with other attendees.
My mother wanted a debrief about what happened and I told her about who I spoke to and what contacts I made.
"Mr Sharma did ask for my number. I presume, he will be calling to set up that audition," my mother said. She reveled being back in control.
My mother knew how to manipulate men but she did not know how to keep them. Her three divorces testified to that.
The call came a couple of weeks later but my mother turned it down initially, "you must never seem eager."
She arranged an audition with another producer. He was 42 and despite being 20 years older than me. Hardeep was relatively young for a producer. Still a total creep. He was on the chubby side and hid his creepiness behind being a 'funny man'. There were so many stories about him that I simply do not have the time to write them down.
He was casting for his latest comedy movie and my mother had put me forward for the role of the sexy, hot side chick. I had a curvy body naturally. When I say curvy, I do not mean when fat girls call themselves curvy. I did not have an ounce of fat on me. But I had natural curves and D cup breasts on my slim frame.
My mother picked out what I should wear for the audition. Crop top, jeans that had the legs cut off so it was all legs. She made me wear a g-string bikini underneath it.
"I can't wear this around town," I replied.
"You are not going around town. You will go straight to the audition at Hardeep's home and then straight back." She said sternly.
I had no intention to strip but it was implied by my mother selecting the bikini that she would expect me to reveal it at some point.
Men were pawns to my mother, she always believed women had the true power and they could manipulate men.
The "audition" was in his private cinema room. He was eyeing me with lust ever since I entered the room. He was propped up on a lounge type bed in the cinema room.
The lights were on when I came in and were quite bright.
"Let me adjust these lights so they are focused on the area for you to perform," he said as he fiddled with the remote.
He pressed a button that darkened the lights but the projector came on and the loud moans were a shock to the system. The moans were so fucking loud as the porn scene came on. He was so tacky and predictable that I laughed as he fumbled with the remote as though this was not deliberate.
He finally managed to shut it off and then put the correct lights on. I did not speak but I knew I had to pretend I was not bothered by this.
"Oops, you are not offended, I hope," he said as he watched me. His eyes were intense and despite his comedic persona, he had a way of making me uncomfortable.
"What is there to be offended about? It is nothing, I have not seen before," I tried to play it off in a cool manner. I could not show that he had unnerved me.
"Maybe, we should watch together, sometime," he said as his eyes ogled my body. I was dressed in these revealing clothes and now he was talking about watching porn together. This was not an ideal start.
He directed me to the script on the table as he lay back on the lounge bed in his robe. It looked like he was not wearing much underneath. He had been known for pulling stunts on auditions and I hoped it stopped at the porn accident.
I read the lines from the script and I tried to get in character. In truth, there was not much to the character, she was the hot, sexy bombshell and the role promised an item number. The strategy of my mom, was sex appeal, sexy appeal and sexier appeal.
"Ugly, boring roles went to nepo kids, you can't fake natural beauty and sex appeal," She would tell me.
He sits and lets his legs hang off the bed. His robe parts and he is cock naked under the robe. His cock already erect. Stunt number 2 from the creep.
Play it cool. Play it cool. I tell myself.
"You should read the next scene with your top off," he said. Stunt number 3?
I was caught aghast for a moment but my mother had mentally prepared me for this in many ways.