stairs … anywhere … his whole body keened for hers, but he knew he couldn't have her so soon. And when they met the next night, the agony was even sweeter, as their lips met instantly, and they spent an hour in his Duesenberg, beyond her gates, kissing like two children, and then laughing as he drove her to the Biltmore Bowl.
There was a big party being held there, and the photographers went wild when they saw them. But this time, Faye didn't seem to resist it. In four brief days, she knew that there was no running away from Ward Thayer. She didn't know where their romance would lead, but she wasn't going to fight it anymore. She had worn her floor-length white fox coat to the party, over a black and white satin gown. She looked absolutely exquisite as they walked in, with her hand tucked into Ward's arm. She looked up at him warmly for an instant, and he smiled at her, just as the photographers approached them, and they had a field day with Ward and Faye for the rest of the night. But as promised, he got her home early. The late nights were beginning to wear on her in the morning. But Vance Saint George arrived on the set so late every day that she usually had time to take a nap.
“Did you have fun?” He looked down at her, as she rested her head on his shoulder as they drove home. “I thought it wasn't a bad party.” It had been to promote a new movie, and all the big names had been there.
“I thought it was fun too.” She was beginning to enjoy their nightly outings even more than she had at first. “If I just didn't have this damn movie to do, I could really have some fun.”
He laughed at her and tugged at a lock of the golden hair. “See, that's why I told you not to renew your contract the other night. This is fun, isn't it?”
“It's habit-forming. But I'm a working girl, Ward.” She tried to look at him disapprovingly, but they both laughed.
“That's your choice, but you can choose differently any time you decide to.” He looked meaningfully at her and she didn't answer, and when they reached her house, he kissed her passionately on the tips again, and this time he had to fight himself not to carry her upstairs. “I'm going.” He said it in a voice of anguished desperation, and she kissed him once more in the doorway. The delicious torture went on for weeks, until finally late one Sunday afternoon in October, a month after their courtship had begun, they were walking in her garden, talking about the war, and other subjects. She had the afternoon off from shooting, and Arthur and Elizabeth were off for the weekend. There was a feeling of peace between them as they wandered. She had been telling him about her childhood, her parents, her desperation to leave Pennsylvania, the initial excitement of modeling in New York, and then finally the boredom, and then she confessed that at times it was still that way for her now.
“It's as though there's something more I could be doing … with my mind … not just my face or my lines. I don't want to just memorize other people's lines for the rest of my life.”
It was an interesting confession and it intrigued him. “What would you rather do, Faye? Write?” As usual, he was aching for her body, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least they were alone for a change. She wasn't rushing to or from work, Arthur wasn't hovering in the doorway with tray in hand, and they weren't going to a party. They were growing hungry for time alone and she had offered to cook him dinner that night. They had spent a lovely afternoon, lazing around the pool, and then wandering in the garden. “Would you like to write a screenplay?” He turned to her and smiled at her expression. She looked frightened at the thought as she shook her head.
“I don't think I could do that.”
“What then?”
“Directing … one day …” She barely breathed the words. It was quite an ambition for a woman, and he didn't know of any who had directed movies before.
“Do
There was a big party being held there, and the photographers went wild when they saw them. But this time, Faye didn't seem to resist it. In four brief days, she knew that there was no running away from Ward Thayer. She didn't know where their romance would lead, but she wasn't going to fight it anymore. She had worn her floor-length white fox coat to the party, over a black and white satin gown. She looked absolutely exquisite as they walked in, with her hand tucked into Ward's arm. She looked up at him warmly for an instant, and he smiled at her, just as the photographers approached them, and they had a field day with Ward and Faye for the rest of the night. But as promised, he got her home early. The late nights were beginning to wear on her in the morning. But Vance Saint George arrived on the set so late every day that she usually had time to take a nap.
“Did you have fun?” He looked down at her, as she rested her head on his shoulder as they drove home. “I thought it wasn't a bad party.” It had been to promote a new movie, and all the big names had been there.
“I thought it was fun too.” She was beginning to enjoy their nightly outings even more than she had at first. “If I just didn't have this damn movie to do, I could really have some fun.”
He laughed at her and tugged at a lock of the golden hair. “See, that's why I told you not to renew your contract the other night. This is fun, isn't it?”
“It's habit-forming. But I'm a working girl, Ward.” She tried to look at him disapprovingly, but they both laughed.
“That's your choice, but you can choose differently any time you decide to.” He looked meaningfully at her and she didn't answer, and when they reached her house, he kissed her passionately on the tips again, and this time he had to fight himself not to carry her upstairs. “I'm going.” He said it in a voice of anguished desperation, and she kissed him once more in the doorway. The delicious torture went on for weeks, until finally late one Sunday afternoon in October, a month after their courtship had begun, they were walking in her garden, talking about the war, and other subjects. She had the afternoon off from shooting, and Arthur and Elizabeth were off for the weekend. There was a feeling of peace between them as they wandered. She had been telling him about her childhood, her parents, her desperation to leave Pennsylvania, the initial excitement of modeling in New York, and then finally the boredom, and then she confessed that at times it was still that way for her now.
“It's as though there's something more I could be doing … with my mind … not just my face or my lines. I don't want to just memorize other people's lines for the rest of my life.”
It was an interesting confession and it intrigued him. “What would you rather do, Faye? Write?” As usual, he was aching for her body, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least they were alone for a change. She wasn't rushing to or from work, Arthur wasn't hovering in the doorway with tray in hand, and they weren't going to a party. They were growing hungry for time alone and she had offered to cook him dinner that night. They had spent a lovely afternoon, lazing around the pool, and then wandering in the garden. “Would you like to write a screenplay?” He turned to her and smiled at her expression. She looked frightened at the thought as she shook her head.
“I don't think I could do that.”
“What then?”
“Directing … one day …” She barely breathed the words. It was quite an ambition for a woman, and he didn't know of any who had directed movies before.
“Do
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