REVIVE: AMERICA 1995

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the opulent bedroom. Zeta-Jones stirred, blinking against the sudden brightness. Her body ached in a pleasant way, a reminder of the night before. A soft groan escaped her lips as she stretched, the sheets sliding down her tanned skin.

She glanced around the room, taking in the luxurious surroundings. This was no ordinary bedroom. It was a sanctuary of wealth and privilege, a testament to the extravagant lifestyle of her host.
Milo.
The memory of the previous night washed over her – the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands on her skin, the way he had made her feel desired, cherished. A blush crept up her neck.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot towards the bathroom. The mirror reflected a woman glowing with a newfound confidence. The events of the previous night had not only satisfied her physically but also given her a taste of the power and influence that came with being associated with someone like Milo.
After a refreshing shower, she wrapped herself in a plush robe and stepped out onto the balcony. The panoramic view of Los Angeles spread out before her, a breathtaking panorama of glittering lights and shimmering skyscrapers.
A sense of exhilaration washed over her. This was Hollywood, the land of dreams and desires. And she, Catherine Zeta-Jones, was finally starting to make her mark.
She returned to the bedroom and noticed a housekeeper, Marina, arranging breakfast on a small table.
"Good morning, Ms. Jones," Marina greeted her with a warm smile. "Mr. Blackburn left early this morning. He had some business to attend to in San Francisco."
Zeta-Jones felt a pang of disappointment. She had hoped to see him again, to savor the lingering afterglow of the night before.
"Thank you, Marina," she said, "Could you tell me where I left my bag? I think it's in the dressing room."
"Of course, Ms. Jones," Marina replied, her eyes twinkling.
As she waited for her bag, Zeta-Jones couldn't help but wonder about the night before. The other women, the whispers, the intoxicating power of the moment... it was all starting to sink in.
She picked up her phone and dialed Julie. "Hello, Julie? It's Catherine."
"Catherine! You're still there?" Julie exclaimed. "I thought you'd be gone by now."
"I stayed the night," Zeta-Jones replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And let me tell you, it was quite an experience."
"I knew it!" Julie exclaimed. "You were the only one who stayed. The others were all gone by the time I left."
"Apparently, I made quite an impression," Zeta-Jones said, a hint of pride in her voice.
"You definitely did," Julie confirmed. "Michael Eisner himself was there. And he seemed... impressed."
Zeta-Jones smiled. "He was very different in person. Much more approachable than I expected."
"Well, you certainly caught his attention," Julie said. "And yours."
Zeta-Jones couldn't help but smile. She had come to Hollywood seeking fame and fortune, and she was starting to realize that her dreams might be within reach.