Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

"Hey, Charles, what are you looking at?"

A hand slapped down on Charles' shoulder, startling him.

He turned around to see John, a crew member from the props team.

"Oh, it's you, John. I'm not looking at anything in particular, just glancing around."

John chuckled knowingly and jerked his chin forward—in the direction of a group of girls chatting.

"You're checking them out, aren't you? Heh, don't even think about it. Lindsay Lohan is already taken—she's Martin's girl."

"As for Rachel McAdams and Amanda Seyfried, who knows if they have someone backing them? But even if they don't now, they will soon. This is Hollywood—every beautiful girl here eventually has a 'temporary owner'—be it a director, a producer, or a male star."

"Guys like us? No chance. Unless you look like Martin or Leonardo DiCaprio."

John was getting more and more into it, completely unaware that Charles was looking at him strangely.

On the Set of Bruce Almighty

"Martin, Jennifer, you've got visitors!"

Martin was adjusting his clothes, having just finished shooting a bedroom scene with Jennifer.

He had a feeling Jennifer got a little too into the moment. Initially, all they had to do was lie together under the covers, clothed in their underwear, and simulate the act.

But once they got close, Jennifer's breathing grew noticeably heavier.

Her warm breath tickled Martin's neck, making him squirm.

Then her body started shifting in a way that felt... unnatural.

Jennifer had an incredible figure—not too skinny, not too full-figured, perfectly balanced. A little more and she'd be too curvy; a little less and she'd be too thin.

The way she moved nearly made Martin lose control and embarrass himself.

And when he began simulating the movements, he could feel her gaze—sultry and intense.

Good thing the scene was short. Any longer, and Martin feared he might actually cross a line.

After tidying himself up, Martin stepped outside the studio and immediately spotted Jennifer chatting with a stunning woman.

The moment Jennifer noticed him, her face flushed red, and she quickly looked away.

Then, he saw two unexpected visitors—Natalie Portman and Britney Spears, standing side by side.

When Natalie saw him, she waved enthusiastically.

Martin blinked. What the hell?

How did these two end up together?

Meanwhile, Jennifer Aniston dragged her best friend Courteney Cox into a corner, flustered and anxious.

Courteney raised an eyebrow. "What's with you? You look all jittery. Did you cheat on someone?"

She was joking, of course.

But when Jennifer didn't deny it and instead turned beet red—practically steaming—Courteney's jaw dropped.

"Oh my God. No way. You really cheated?! With Martin?!"

"Shut up, bitch! I did not cheat! I just… ugh, I just… we just shot a bed scene!"

"So, you two actually did it? Was it Martin who initiated it?"

(Note: In Hollywood, some male actors have been known to take advantage of intimate scenes—especially in the '70s and '80s. For example, Marlon Brando and Michael Douglas. Marlon Brando, in particular, was infamous for this.)

"No, no, no! Nothing actually happened! And it's not Martin's fault. It's me… I… I came."

Jennifer leaned in and whispered that last word into Courteney's ear.

Just as she did, Martin stepped outside, and her face ignited like a furnace.

"WTF?!" Courteney's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "You actually came?!"

"Jesus, could you keep your voice down?!" Jennifer pinched her arm hard and dragged her to a more secluded spot. "Do you want the whole world to hear?!"

"But seriously, you really…?" Courteney still couldn't wrap her head around it. Jennifer had never struck her as the impulsive type.

"I… I don't know what happened! I just… lost control. It was like Martin's touch had some kind of magic. When he held me, my whole body was trembling!"

"Goddamn, you cougar! Confess—did you secretly feel him up? Is his body as ripped as it looks?"

"I-I only touched him a little! And yeah, he's really strong—way too strong for a fifteen-year-old."

"Wait—cougar? Excuse me, I am not old! And I didn't 'eat' anything! Ugh, stop putting weird thoughts in my head!"

"Excuse me? You're the one with the dirty mind here!" Courteney grinned. "Alright, alright, whatever. Now spill all the juicy details. I need everything."

The gossip fire in Courteney's heart was burning bright.

Meanwhile…

"Hey, how did you two end up visiting together?" Martin asked.

Natalie Portman smiled. "Britney and I are good friends. She mentioned she was coming to see you, so I tagged along."

"You two? Good friends?" Martin raised an eyebrow.

"Yep! When we were kids, we were both backup performers on the same show." Natalie explained, "You won't believe this, but I was actually her backup's backup. Then she got invited to join The Mickey Mouse Club, left, and I took her spot."

Britney laughed. "Natalie was super scrawny back then. Some kids bullied her, and I stood up for her. That's how we became friends."

(Note: Natalie Portman and Britney Spears have remained close friends to this day. They've supported each other through tough times.

In 2002, when Natalie had just graduated and was struggling to find roles, Britney threw a party for her—inviting stars like Reese Witherspoon, Brie Larson, and America Ferrera—to help her network.

Years later, when Britney was at rock bottom and being mocked by the media, Natalie consistently defended her and helped her get work.

They are one of Hollywood's rare, true friendships. In fact, in an interview with ELLE, Natalie once said, "I can't live without her (Britney)." That's how deep their bond is.)

Natalie grinned. "Yeah, I was really skinny, and Britney—she was a gymnast—super strong. This big, chubby kid used to pick on me, and I still remember Britney shoving him to the ground and cussing him out."

Britney giggled. "That kid totally freaked out. I don't think he'd ever seen a girl that fierce before—he was crying so hard, his snot went flying!"

The two of them burst into laughter.

Martin could tell—these two were real friends.