Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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******

”Duty calls,” Marvin said, his ocean-blue eyes holding hers for one final, lingering second.

”Keep the book safe, Jessica. And remember what we talked about. You aren’t just an extra in their movie. You’re the author of your own.”

”I... I will. Thank you, Marvin,” Jessica said, her voice a little dazed as she stood up, tucking the heavy hardcover back into the waistband of her jeans and pulling her shirt down to conceal it.

She stepped out of the warm, quiet RV and back into the biting, chaotic reality of the San Bernardino forest. The noise of the set rushed back over her—grips shouting, walkie-talkies buzzing, generators humming.

She walked away from the trailer in a complete haze, her mind still echoing with quotes from ancient philosophers and the terrifyingly intense gaze of an eleven-year-old boy.

Before she could even make it back to the background holding tent, a hand grabbed her elbow, pulling her behind the craft services table.

”How about it?”

”What?” Jessica blinked, startled. She looked up to see her agent, Holden.

Holden was a classic mid-nineties Hollywood hustler. He wore a slightly oversized beige suit, smelled faintly of stale coffee and expensive cologne, and had a pager clipped to his belt that dictated his entire existence. He was a survivor in a cutthroat town, and he viewed his clients not just as talent, but as living, breathing stock options.

”I’m asking how your conversation went,”

Holden hissed, his eyes darting around to make sure the gossiping stage moms couldn’t hear them. ”I saw you go into the golden boy’s trailer. You were in there for the full ten minutes. Did you make an impression?”

”Oh. Yes... very good. We had a really good chat, but—” Jessica paused, rubbing her arms against the cold.

”But what?” Holden’s face, which had just lit up with the joy of a potential networking victory, instantly tightened with anxiety. In this town, the word ’but’ usually preceded a disaster.

”It’s just... I think Marvin is too smart, Holden,” Jessica admitted, her voice dropping. The crushing weight of her own insecurities, usually hidden behind a bright, camera-ready smile, suddenly felt heavy. ”He was talking about history, philosophy, self, and the mechanics of power. I barely graduated middle school because I was stuck on commercial sets and in hospital beds. I felt like an absolute ugly duckling in front of him. A stupid one.”

Holden let out a breath, his tense shoulders dropping. He reached out, giving her shoulder a firm, pragmatic squeeze.

”Hey. Listen to me, kid. Don’t underestimate yourself,” Holden said, his tone shifting into the practiced, motivational cadence of a seasoned manager. ”You have your own unique charm. You have a look that testing audiences are going to kill for in three years. If you didn’t have ’it,’ I wouldn’t have signed you in the first place, and Nancy Meyers wouldn’t have hired you off a headshot.”

He leaned in closer. ”You need to be more confident. Think about the math here, Jess. That kid is the epicenter of a fifteen-million-dollar production. He has Disney executives fetching him bottled water. The fact that he was willing to close his trailer door and talk to you for ten solid minutes means he doesn’t dislike you. In fact, it means you stood out from the other fifty brats freezing on this mountain.”

Jessica looked down at her sneakers, a small, involuntary smile touching her lips as she remembered the way Marvin had looked at her. ”Really?”

”Really. I wouldn’t lie to you about leverage,” Holden promised, his eyes gleaming with calculating energy. ”By the way... the ultimate question. Did you get his contact information?”

”Hehe. I got it,” Jessica said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the heavy cardstock slip with Marvin’s private pager and direct line written in his elegant scrawl.

”Beautiful. Perfect,” Holden breathed, looking at the piece of paper like it was a winning lottery ticket. ”Very good, Jess. This is an incredible piece of connection. You keep that safe. The Meyers family is old royalty growing a foot in Hollywood now. You’ll need that number in the future.”

”Can I call him when I’m free?” Jessica asked, her fingers tightly gripping the card, feeling suddenly nervous about the protocol of navigating a relationship with someone so far out of her league.

Holden pondered for a moment, stroking his chin as he calculated the social chess game. ”Sure. But play it smart. Don’t do it too often at first; you don’t want to seem desperate or look like a fan. Try to find topics he actually likes—ask him about that book he wrote, or... whatever that philosophy stuff was you mentioned. Let him be the expert and be the bashful girl in love.”

Holden grinned, tapping the side of his head. ”Of course, if you can actually become genuine friends with Marvin while we’re still on this set, then the rules change. Once you’re in the inner circle, you can be as casual as you want with those calls. Just keep building the bridge.”

”Yes. Yes, I’ll work on it,” Jessica nodded, a genuine, thrilling spark of joy lighting up her chest.

She turned to look back at the set. The cameras were rolling again. Marvin was standing in the center of the lights, executing a flawless, commanding performance while the crew watched in absolute silence.

Holden saw a golden networking opportunity; a stepping stone to better auditions and higher paychecks. But as Jessica watched the boy in the white fencing jacket, clutching the heavy book hidden beneath her shirt, she knew the truth. This wasn’t just about her career anymore. It was about solving the most fascinating, irresistible puzzle she had ever encountered.

---

”Cut! Reset the motion-control rig!” Nancy’s voice boomed through the megaphone, cutting through the crisp San Bernardino air. She rubbed her temples, leaning over the video village monitors. ”Marvin, you’re giving me too much Baker. You need to act more rebellious. You’re playing the Californian right now.”

”Understood, Director,” Marvin called back, standing on his mark. ”Let’s take it again from the top.”

In the meticulously crafted script of The Parent Trap, the twin brothers were a study in absolute contrasts. Mike Parker, who lived on a sprawling Napa Valley vineyard with his father, was designed to be outgoing, enthusiastic, and aggressively American. He had the brash, sun-kissed exuberance of a Western cowboy—he took up physical space, slouched his shoulders, and spoke with his hands.

Baker James, conversely, had been raised in the affluent, tailored world of London’s Knightsbridge with his mother. He was quiet, impeccably gentle, and possessed the rigid, upright posture of a miniature British gentleman. He didn’t take up space; he commanded it.

Yet, beneath the surface aesthetics, both boys shared the exact same fiercely proud, ruthlessly competitive Meyers DNA. It was this identical psychological core wrapped in opposite cultural packaging that caused their explosive clashes during the summer camp.

First, Mike executed an elaborate, messy prank on Baker. Then, Baker systematically humiliated Mike in the fencing pavilion. The escalation was a war of attrition.

Because the entire film hinged on this illusion, Marvin had to perform every single scene that required his face twice, acting opposite a tennis ball on a C-stand or a terrified body double. It was an incredibly grueling, highly technical shooting schedule. He was the busiest person on the hundred-person crew.

To everyone’s absolute astonishment, Marvin operated like a seasoned, thirty-year veteran of the Royal Shakespeare Company.

He didn’t just change his accent; he changed his center of gravity. When the slate snapped for ”Mike,” his eyes grew wide and reckless.

When it snapped for ”Baker,” his gaze cooled into a sharp, aristocratic condescension. He rarely missed a mark, and he understood the unforgiving math of the Panavision camera lenses better than the operators. He only made a few minor, deliberate mistakes occasionally, just to keep the crew from feeling too unnerved by his perfection. For the most part, he delivered one-take wonders.

Nancy was having the time of her life. Seated in the director’s chair, it felt like she was conducting a symphony that played itself. ’If only the other child extras didn’t require seven retakes just to walk across the background in a straight line,’ she thought grimly.

Fortunately, the chaotic ”Camp” phase of the production schedule was drawing to a close.

What remained were the high-stakes, dramatic interior scenes featuring the adult heavyweights: Dennis Quaid (playing the rugged, charismatic father), Natasha Richardson (the elegant, soulful mother), and Elaine Hendrix (the deliciously wicked, ambitious girlfriend).

”Very good! That’s a print. This round is over,” Nancy announced, her voice echoing off the pines. She checked her heavy silver wristwatch. ”Listen up, everyone! We are on a mandatory one-hour turnaround. At 1800 hours, we will light the mess hall for the dinner sequence. Then, at 2000 hours, we strike the interior and move to the lake for the final camp scene—the night swim.”

She lowered the megaphone and turned to Marvin, who was already slipping a heavy designer parka over his camp t-shirt.

”Marvin,” Nancy asked, her tone shifting to a quieter, aunt-like concern. ”How are your swimming skills? The water in that lake is freezing, even with the localized heaters we dropped in. Do you need the stunt double for the wide shots?”

Marvin offered a confident, entirely unbothered smile. ”I’m perfectly fine, Director. In the water, I’m practically a fish. Just make sure the underwater housing for the camera doesn’t fog up. I don’t want to freeze for a blurry shot.”

Nancy laughed, shaking her head. ”Get to your trailer, superstar. You have an hour of mandated schooling.”

The ensuing dinner scene was filmed exactly on schedule. The background extras, thoroughly exhausted by the mountain air, were finally docile. Jessica even had a brief, scripted exchange with Marvin near the buffet line.

Under the subtle, invisible influence of his performance, she delivered her lines flawlessly, her face glowing with a natural, unforced charm that made Nancy nod in approval from the monitors.

By the time Marvin stepped away from the set and approached his custom Airstream RV, the sun was dipping below the tree line, painting the California sky in bruised shades of purple and gold.

Waiting for him at the base of the aluminum steps was Miss Jennifer.

She was the mandated set tutor Nancy had hired to satisfy the relentless demands of the Screen Actors Guild and the child labor boards.

Jennifer was a striking young woman in her early twenties, possessing cascading blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and the kind of effortless, sun-kissed beauty that made Los Angeles famous.

More importantly, she wasn’t just another aspiring actress looking for a side gig. She was a brilliant graduate student studying at the University of Southern California—the exact same prestigious university where Marvin’s mother, Linda, occasionally guest-lectured. In fact, Jennifer’s placement on this set was a direct result of Linda’s quiet networking. Linda wanted an intellectual heavyweight watching over her son, not a glorified babysitter. This job was officially part of Jennifer’s social practice practicum.

”Miss Jennifer,” Marvin greeted her smoothly, stepping into the warm glow of the RV’s porch light. ”You could have waited inside, you know. It’s dropping below fifty degrees out here.”

Jennifer crossed her arms, shivering slightly but offering a wry, intelligent smile. ”I know. But I make it a strict personal policy never to enter the private trailer of a child who is about to hit puberty unchaperoned. I’ve read the industry horror stories. Who knows what kind of contraband I’d find?”

She shrugged, her blue eyes sparkling with a teasing challenge.

Marvin stopped on the steps, looking down at her. He didn’t offer a childish giggle. Instead, his expression smoothed into a mask of dry, aristocratic amusement. He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a smooth, resonant pitch that completely caught her off guard.

”I assure you, Jennifer, my vices are far too expensive to leave lying around on a coffee table,” Marvin countered smoothly. ”You are vastly overthinking the threat level. If you step inside, the only horrors you will witness are a perfectly pristine living area, and perhaps a severely cluttered study desk covered in annotated script pages.”

***********

Absolutely! Yes, there will indeed be fully explicit R18 Chapters included in the story. After all, what would be the point of writing harem stories without exploring the sensual and intimate relationships that develop between the characters? Such elements are essential in bringing depth to the narrative and allowing readers to fully engage with the intertwined lives of the characters involved.

”Alright, let me lay out my thoughts on the Harem concept.**

As an Incubus, his power doesn’t come from brute force or raw magic — it comes from *emotion*. He feeds on it. He *thrives* on it. And no source of emotion is more potent, more volatile, more inexhaustible than the people who love you.

Not strangers. Not enemies.

*Lovers.*

Because lovers don’t just feel — they feel *everything.* They give you the full spectrum without even realizing it.

Think about what a lover actually brings:

The **burning adoration** when they look at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at in a room full of wonders.

The **aching longing** when you’re apart — that hollow, gnawing want that sits in the chest like a wound that won’t close.

The **white-hot jealousy** when someone else gets too close — irrational, consuming, *delicious.*

The **tender devotion** of someone who knows your worst parts and stays anyway.

The **quiet pride** when you succeed — the way they beam like *they* built you.

The **sharp frustration** when you infuriate them — because only someone who truly loves you gets *that* angry over something *that* small.

The **desperate fear of losing you** — that cold, breathless panic that hits at 3AM when something feels wrong.

The **bittersweet nostalgia** of shared memories — smiling and aching at the same time.

The **possessiveness** — that primal, low-burning *mine* that never fully goes away.

The **vulnerability** they show only to you — the emotional nakedness of being completely seen.

The **gratitude so deep it borders on reverence** — feeling saved by your very existence.

The **petty little annoyances** that somehow make them love you more — your habits, your quirks, your contradictions.

The **hope** — god, the *hope* — that you’ll be everything they believe you can be.

For an Incubus, a family gives you warmth. Allies give you loyalty.

But *lovers?*

Lovers give you **a storm.**

And so much more.

He wants to *consume* it.”**

So I am thinking of the Harem list that are already in the story theses are already in..

Lindsay Lohan

Jessica Elba

Diana

Scarlett Johansson

Miranda Kerr

Nicole Kidman

Adriana Lima

Charlize Theron

Britney Spears

Cate Blanchett

Liv Tyler

Drew Barrymore

Emma Watson

Elizabeth Olsen

Ivanka Trump

Taylor Swift

Jennifer Aniston

Keira Knightley

Paris Hilton

Anne Hathaway

Amanda Seyfried

Rachel McAdams

Princess Haya (Maybe remove it)

Megan Fox

Avril Lavigne

Jennifer Aniston

Courteney Cox

Jennifer Lawrence

Alexandra Daddario

Kristen Stewart

Kate Winslet

Natalie Portman

Lauren Findlay

Amber Heard

Shakira

Vanessa Heisler

Gal Gadot

Hannah Carmen

Dakota Fanning

Elle Fanning

Anya Taylor-Joy

Yang Mi

Liu Yifei

(And more names were here that I don’t remember.)

And by now you must know I’ll be adding so much more like I am currently writing 1997 Asian Currency Crisis and just the outlines is 22 thousand words long and removing most of politicas unless it’s enchants the story of course I have to expand the list as well you know what you are here for if you are reading this. So here it is the beauties I’ll be adding...

Amy Adams

Beyoncé

Rihanna

Aishwarya (Maybe I am not sure.)

Hailee Steinfeld

Margot Robbie

Sydney Sweeney

Ana de Armas

Emily Blunt

Emilia Clarke

Sophie Turner

Emma Stone (Maybe I am not sure.)

Brie Larson (Another Maybe)

Selena Gomez (Another Maybe)

Sofia Vergara (Maybe)

Angelina Jolie

Kate Beckinsale (Another Maybe)

Bryce Dallas (Another Maybe)

Give me more, my brain is not working.

As you guys know, Marvin is expanding the empire! He’s officially establishing Meyers Entertainment branches across Japan, South Korea, and China. The goal? To build an Asian entertainment powerhouse that rivals Hollywood—dominating movies, music, TV, idol culture, anime, manhwa, and beyond.

​Here’s where I need your help. Marvin will be traveling to these three countries at the end of 1998, and I want to introduce some absolute beauties. I’m looking for recommendations on the most stunning, iconic female celebrities from these regions.

​My own knowledge of Asian cinema is a bit limited right now. For Japan, I’ve only really seen The Ring and Godzilla Minus One and anime of course a whole lot of it and all the things related to it. For Korea, I’ve watched some K-dramas and that one famous movie (you know the one!). And for China, mostly just Hero, the Monkey King films, and The Legend of Hei.

​So, who are the most gorgeous celebrities or idols from there that I need to include? Drop your best recommendations in the comments so I can do these females justice!”

None of them are confirmed, just putting names here to help you.

Like whole crew of Black Pink

Lisa, Jisoo, Jennie, Rosé

Song Hye-Kyo

Kim Chae-won

Kim Min-jeong

Sejeong

Park Soo-Young

Zhang Ziyi

Li Bingbing

Tong Liya

Yang Ying

Zhao Liying

Cheng Xiao

Yang Zi

Wu Qian

Bai Lu

Xing Fei

Marie Iitoyo

So give more than he could use in live-action adaptations and movies, for those gorgeous ladies of theses countries.