Heather Hunter was born October 1st, 1969, in New York. Light brown skin, fresh face, the kind of girl who draws a stare without trying. She shot her first sex film the day she turned eighteen, still in the city that made her. A handful of East-coast loops later, she packed up and drove west. By then the LA studios already knew her name. You can spot her in Tupac’s “How Do You Want It,” in Spike Lee’s “He Got Game,” gliding across the “Soul Train” stage. She reads, racks balls at the pool table, paints, touches herself between takes. Thai take-out, chilled champagne, gold at her throat, a Jaguar in the driveway, Peter North on her call sheet—those are the things that please her. Her real dream? Straddling a stranger thirty-thousand feet above ground, cabin lights low, nobody knowing her name.
Heather Hunter was born October 1st, 1969, in New York. Light brown skin, fresh face, the kind of girl who draws a stare without trying. She shot her first sex film the day she turned eighteen, still in the city that made her. A handful of East-coast loops later, she packed up and drove west. By then the LA studios already knew her name. You can spot her in Tupac’s “How Do You Want It,” in Spike Lee’s “He Got Game,” gliding across the “Soul Train” stage. She reads, racks balls at the pool table, paints, touches herself between takes. Thai take-out, chilled champagne, gold at her throat, a Jaguar in the driveway, Peter North on her call sheet—those are the things that please her. Her real dream? Straddling a stranger thirty-thousand feet above ground, cabin lights low, nobody knowing her name.