BLOODY HAM - EXTRACT

Bernie fought to bring his breathing under control and from tight lips spat out: “Hayley Hampshire does not do nude scenes.”
“And the swallows don’t return to Capistrano,” muttered Hazel, realising that this unfolding drama beat the film version hands down.
“This time she does,” said Gio, in a self congratulatory tone.
“Yeah,” confirmed Hayley, in pure street urchin.
Bernie’s chubby fingers curled into fists. “There’s nothing in her contract or in the script that …”
“Creative script changes. My prerogative.” Gio smirked, knowing he held the winning hand. Hayley sidled up to her husband, ran her hand down his cheek, and assumed a little girl persona, the chewing gum having taken a supernumery role for the moment. “Bernie, my big boy. You wouldn’t want your little baby to miss out on an Academy Award by not doing this scene as the director asked, would you?”
Belinda felt that the chances of Hayley and Oscar ever being in the same room at the same time was as remote as Hayley actually laying her hands on the statuette – legally. Either the prospect of a glittering prize, as unlikely as it may have been, or the implied sexual undertone in Hayley’s cooing intonation, caused Bernie’s anger to diminish somewhat. Taking advantage of the moment Hayley sealed it with a long lingering kiss.
This tableau transfixed the remaining film crew until Jack, after clearing his throat noisily, called: “All remaining crew not required in this scene please leave now. Principals to your first positions please.”
Hayley took Bernie’s hand and led him away to the door leading to the North Drawing Room. With eyes filled with a promise of sexual bliss she whispered: “Baby would love a cup of coffee.” Bernie, putty in her hands, melted further and with a gentle push, Hayley sent him on his way. He disappeared from view, the picture of a poor infatuated mortal dismissed by his personal goddess. The goddess swung around and with a triumphant wink at Gio took her place on the set.
Sir Noel, already seated at the table, applauded her softly. “My dear, such talent. Now if you could only apply it to your work.” Hayley unsure if this was a compliment or an insult settled on the former and gave an imitation of a self-deprecating smirk. She withdrew the wad of gum from her mouth and unceremoniously jammed it on the underside of the seventeenth century cabinet.
Belinda gave a gasp of dismay at the desecration of the treasure and Hazel almost had a convulsion. “The woman’s a congenital hooligan,” she moaned.
Unaware of her transgression Hayley took her mark before the camera.
Gio meandered over to Tim. “Do us a favour, mate. Keep an eye on Bernie and make sure he stays away until I get this scene in the can.” He slapped Tim heavily on the shoulder and turned back to the actors. With some reluctance Tim rose to his feet. With a wistful look at Hayley and the unadorned display he was about to miss, he left.
Hazel called mockingly after him in a parody of Hayley’s voice, “Never mind, my big boy. Baby will tell you all about it later.”
“Turn over.”
“Speed.”
“Mark it.”
The camera assistant identified the take with the clapper board, standby wardrobe removed the kimono from Hayley’s shoulders and the blonde actress began her voluptuous dance. Using a bouquet of flowers as tease, she ran it lightly and suggestively over her body in a futile and false attempt at covering her nakedness. The atmosphere on the set became electric as the dance progressed. Although the dance centred on Sir Noel, who didn’t need to act to indicate that he was enjoying himself, it was plain to all in the room that Hayley was getting pleasure from displaying her perfect unadorned body. Belinda glanced at Gio. Standing by the camera his gaze was fixed on the naked cavorting figure, a wicked smile of approval on his lips.
Hayley flung the bouquet of flowers at the Duke, gave her raucous laugh and fell back into the Duke’s embrace.
As they kissed, Belinda suspected that there was more fervour expressed in this kiss than previous takes, at least on the part of Sir Noel who seemed oblivious of the crew and appeared to be quite satisfied if the kiss was to lead to further unscripted activities not imagined by the original author of the play.
While they were thus engaged, Clarissa in her role as the Duchess moved forward and, as was required in the scene, surreptitiously tipped the contents of a small bottle into the goblet. She then moved out of camera range. Sir Noel, with some difficulty, delivered his lines of dialogue.
Hayley with a broad smile, disengaged herself from the Duke’s exploring fingers, snatched up the goblet, and eagerly drank the contents. Throwing the goblet to the floor and, with a flirtatious glance to Sir Noel, she began another wild dance.
Apart from the obvious erotic elements the scene was much as been photographed earlier in the day. For a minute Belinda watched the dance, fascinated by the total lack of inhibition the young American was displaying as her dance became wilder and more eccentric.
Her flawless skin, previously white, was beginning to show a pink flush as she whirled and cavorted, arms flailing, legs jerking. On and on she danced as though unable to stop.
But stop she did. Suddenly and violently.
Her hands began to claw at her skin, scratching at the flesh as an inflamed nettle rash appeared on her torso. She clasped her stomach as cramps took hold of her. With a tremendous gasp she turned to face the camera and the assembled crew, her shocked eyes solid with fright and terror. She clutched her throat.
Wheezing, gagging, gasping for breath as though the task of bringing air into her lungs was beyond her reach, her body went rigid. Her frantic, demanding gaze scoured the room as though searching for some invisible object or being, to finally settle on Belinda. Belinda, stunned by the occurrence, stared back unable to move, mesmerized by this sudden horrifying development.
With a frightened muffled shriek that shook her body and appealed for help, while feeble fingers tore at her throat, Hayley buckled and collapsed onto the floor, her whole body writhing and straining piteously in a vain attempt to breathe.