Dear Diary, Well, here I am on an Amtrak bound from Dayton to New York City. I can hardly believe I'm finally doing it-pursuing my dream to become a dancer. Of course, it was hard leaving Mom and Dad, my kid sister, Rita, and especially my fianc', Freddy. But, I am twenty-one now and the world is, as they say, my oyster. I'm going to be its pearl, and am looking forward to meeting my soon-to-be roommate, Josette. She lives in Greenwich Village. Even I know what a swinging part of New York that neighborhood is supposed to be. What a coincidence that Josette used to live in Dayton, too. So what if I hate the place, how bad can it be? It's just for the summer. If I hate New York, I can always come back to Ohio.
The conductor just announced we 'll be arriving at Penn Station in about an hour, so I'm going to use the ladies room now.
New York, here I come!
Sally Ann Gardner put down her diary and thought about the many changes she was making in her life. As the train moved her closer and closer to her Manhattan destination, she once again wondered if she was doing the right thing. She'd never been out of Ohio, and there were so many horror stories she'd heard about city life. If it wasn't for the encouragement of her dance teacher, Miss Farrell, Sally Ann probably would never have had the courage to leave her small, quiet town. But Miss Farrell, who'd watched her student develop from a knock-kneed six-year-old to a graceful, delicately featured blonde beauty, sat her down after class one day after the other students had left the studio.
"Sally Ann," she'd said. "You know I'm fond of you, dear. Very fond. When I was your age, I realized that the goals I wanted to achieve would never happen unless I left Dayton." Sally Ann looked into the older woman's big blue eyes. At forty-five, Miss Farrell remained a stunner. Though years of plies at the ballet barre had left her slightly bow-legged, Miss Farrell had the carriage of a ballet dancer. She was small-breasted with tight, round buttocks and flaming red hair. As far as Sally Ann knew, she had never been married.
"Is that why you lived in New York for a few years?" Sally Ann inquired, adjusting her pink leotard.
"Well, that was one of the reasons," Miss Farrell replied. "There were other things as well. Let's just say I had different, um, longings that sometimes people in a small town don't understand."
Sally Ann began her cool down stretches. She spread her long legs wide, reaching toward her feet. "I know just how you felt, Miss Farrell. No one in my family understands how passionately I feel about becoming a real dancer. Mother wants me to settle down with Frederick just because we've been going steady for two years. Daddy even told Freddy he'd get him a job at his factory. And Rita thinks just because we're sisters I should stay close to home."
Miss Farrell put her hand gently on her favorite student's shoulder. "Sally Ann, honey, I'm not just talking about dancing."
"What else is there?".
The ballet teacher cleared her throat. "A lot, dear. When you go to New York, you'll meet a lot of different kinds of people. Some of them lead very different lifestyles than what you're probably used to."
"What do you mean?" Sally Ann asked, her baby blue eyes wide with innocence and curiosity.
"I mean that one of the reasons I went to a city like New York, besides dancing, was because I'd fallen in love with someone there."
Sally Ann gasped. "Oh, how romantic! Was he a dancer, too?"
Miss Farrell laughed coyly. "A dancer, yes. A 'he,' no. I'd fallen in love with a female ballet dancer."
Sally Ann stopped stretching. Her hand flew to her mouth in a futile attempt to hide her surprise. She'd heard about lesbians, but in her mind's eye, she pictured them as being very masculine. Not at all like the gorgeous mature woman seated before her now. "Miss Farrell, I had no idea. I.. .I don't know what to say."
"Are you shocked, dear? Have I said something to change how you feel about me?" she asked, concern obvious in her face.
Strangely, Sally Ann was more fascinated than disgusted about her teacher's revelation. Once, when she and Freddy were having sex in the back seat of his car, he'd asked her if she'd ever fantasized about fucking another woman. He'd seen a porno movie, he told her, in which a man was screwing two women at the same time. As he described the flick, she grew excited and came in great waves of ecstasy. From that moment on, she'd occasionally thought about sex with Freddy and another woman. But she'd never considered that lesbian sex. Now, here was one of her most-admired teachers confessing her sapphic desires.
"Surprised, not shocked in a bad way," Sally Ann finally said. "I've never met a girl who liked other girls before."
"Well, dear, you will in New York. You'll meet every conceivable type of person there, and you have to be open-minded or you won't last through the summer. Especially if you're bent on having a career as a dancer. It's very competitive-and, for those who make it-very rewarding."
Sally Ann wanted to get back to the subject of lesbianism. "To be honest, sometimes, in my dreams, I do imagine that Freddy and I are with another girl. Especially when I masturbate." Sally Ann blushed.
"What exactly do you fantasize about?" Miss Farrell asked. She was getting increasingly aroused and felt her pussy grow moist.
"I pretend that I walk in on Freddy, who's in his bedroom fucking another girl. They don't see me right away, because they're so caught up in what they're doing. Freddy's fucking her from behind, and she's on her knees, spreading her butt wide with both hands to get more and more of his big cock into her tight pussy." Sally Ann closed her eyes to relive the dream, one hand absently moving between her legs.
"Please go on, honey," Miss Farrell urged, her voice suddenly sultry and deep. "Tell your teacher everything."
"As they fuck, I hear Freddy asking her if she-likes how his thick dick feels in her little cunt. She looks over her shoulder to tell him to really throw it to her, and that's when she sees me standing behind them at the foot of the bed. By this time, I'm really horny. I'm rubbing myself."
"Rubbing?"
"Yes." Sally Ann opened her eyes and saw that Miss Farrell, too, was touching her crotch. "Just like you're doing."
"Do you mind? I'm enjoying your story. Tell me more."
"Well, the girl gasps when she sees me, and Freddy turns around, too. That big oP rooter of his is standing straight up, all slick from her juices. He doesn't say anything, just reaches out toward me. It's weird, but I'm not at all jealous. Just hot as hell. I want him. I want her, too."
Miss Farrell abruptly stood up. "Sally Ann, do you mind if I close the drapes and lock the door? This dream of yours has gotten me excited, and I don't want anyone to walk in and overhear us."
Sally Ann shook her head. Miss Farrell crossed the studio, closed the curtains, locked the door and returned to her chair. Sally Ann noticed the older woman's crotch was saturated. Miss Farrell followed her stare. "Oh, dear, I am getting horny, too. Please, continue."
"Freddy takes me by my wrist and pulls me to the bed. He kisses me, pulling my dress over my head. I'm not wearing any underwear. I feel his long tongue push into my throat when suddenly I feel another tongue. This one is on my cunny. It's the other girl's, and it feels delicious. At first, she is real gentle, sort of lapping at my labia. But then she goes for it: she pushes that tongue in soooo deep I feel my knees buckle.
"My boyfriend asks me if I'm comfortable with this, and all I can do is nod. 'Comfortable?' I'm in heaven!" Sally Ann noted that Miss Farrell's stroking hand had moved into her leotard, towards her pussy.
"Yes, heaven," the ballet teacher, eyes closed, agreed dreamily.
"Freddy lays me out on the bed on my back. He and the girl switch places, with Freddy giving me head while she straddles my face. I've never licked pussy before, and when she squats over me, well, I don't know what to do."
"Follow your instincts," Miss Farrell, in her own state of bliss, suggested.
"Exactly," Sally Ann said. "That's what I imagine. Just stick out my tongue and taste her."
"How was she, dear?"
"Slightly salty, musky. The fragrance of lust. I loved her smell. She became more urgent, pushing her pussy down harder on my tongue, wanting me to get as far in as possible. I could look up between her legs and see her bouncing breasts, big with cherry-red nipples, swinging as she rode my face. And, at the same time, I could feel Freddy's schlong slide in and out, in and out. The three of us found a rhythm."
Miss Farrell pulled off her leotard. "Do you mind if I get comfortable, Sally Ann?"
"Not if you don't mind if I do, too." Sally Ann paused from her torrid tale to remove her clothing. Naked and sweating, the women resumed their sitting positions: Miss Farrell, legs spread, in her chair; Sally Ann at her feet, legs still stretched wide apart. Their pubic thatches-red and blonde-gleamed with moisture.
"Who came first?" the teacher wanted to know.
"That's what was incredible. They came at the same time. Freddy pumped his seed just as the girl exploded in my mouth."
"And you? How did you cum?"
"I'm still waiting to cum." Sally Ann looked meaningfully into Miss Farrell's lust-glazed eyes. "Wanna help?"
Sally Ann rose. Standing, her cunt was even with the ballet teacher's thick red lips. Miss Farrell held her student by her buttocks, suckling the blonde mound noisily.
"Oh, yeah. Do me, Miss Farrell. Lick my pussy. Taste me deep inside. That's how I like it."
"Let's do each other," Miss Farrell suggested, pulling herself off the girl's love triangle. "Do you know about sixty-nine?"
"It was a very good year," Sally Ann said laughing. "Of course I know what that is. Now I'll see just how limber all these dance classes have made me."
Miss Farrell led Sally Ann to a nearby mat. Heads-to-pussies, they ravished each other with deliriously deep cunnilingus. Their slurping noises reverberated off the walls of the dance studio as student and teacher became more absorbed in girl-girl sex.
"Oh, Sally Ann, that feels wonderful. Now, lick my ass-hole. That's it. Mmmmm. Oh, yes. Yes!" Miss Farrell was getting the complete package as Sally Ann followed instructions like a good student. She located Miss Farrell's rosy pucker and teased it with the tip of her tongue. "Now, dear, take your tongue into my cunny. Ooooooh! That's it. And I'll do you the same way."
Sally Ann could only moan her satisfaction. Freddy had never rimmed her ass-hole before, and it was a sensation as ecstatic as pussy licking. Miss Farrell started with the same teasing tongue licks Sally Ann had given to her, then plowed her palate deep into the older woman's button-sized hole. Without pausing, Miss Farrell lapped straight up into Sally Ann's gushing gash, then returned to her butt hole.
"Oh, Miss Farrell, I'm gonna cum," Sally Ann warned, her long blonde mane tossing from side to side. "Here it comes! Ahhhhhh!"
Miss Farrell latched onto the girl's pussy tightly, tasting her nectar as it flowed into the redhead's eager mouth. She felt her own orgasm building. Sally Ann located her G-spot with a finger, which triggered the teacher's explosion. "Oh, honey, me, too. I'm cumming. Don't stop. Don't ever stop!"
Sally Ann tasted her first delicious drops of another woman's climax, something she'd previously only dreamed about. And it was even better than she'd imagined. Instinctively, she opened wide, flicking her tongue on Miss Farrell's ass-hole as she tickled her clit with a finger. Both women lay panting with total satisfaction.
"You're never going to make me want to leave Dayton now," the younger woman said, wrapping her arms around her older mentor.
"Oh, but you must. This is only the beginning for you, Sally Ann. I have a former student, Josette Dupres, who is about ten years your senior. She's choreographing now, having a successful career."
"Were you and she-"
"Briefly," Miss Farrell said, a faraway look in her eyes. "But she's bisexual, whereas I prefer the company of women. Anyway, I could arrange it with her for you to stay with her for a while, take daily ballet classes with excellent teachers. You'll have to find a part-time job like all dancers do. Josette can help you with that, too. Are you interested?"
"Am I! I'd be a fool to turn down the opportunity. But what will I tell Freddy?"
"If he loves you, Freddy with let you go. It's only for a while, anyway. You may decide you hate New York. A lot of Midwesterners do, you know."
Sally Ann kissed Miss Farrell fondly on her cheek. "You're the best teacher anyone could have. Thank you so much for your help."
"And thank you, dear, for sharing yourself with me so completely, so openly."
That was the beginning of this great adventure. Now, some months later, everything was arranged. Freddy had been skeptical. They'd fought over the length of her stay in Manhattan, how she would support herself and the fact that she knew no one there. But she'd spoken with Josette on the phone, and Sally Ann felt the budding choreographer would help her get acclimated to city living. Freddy would just have to accept her decision. If he loved her, he'd wait.
As Sally Ann walked down the aisle of the train towards the ladies room, she checked out the other passengers. Mostly nondescript businessmen with briefcases and laptop computers. A few families with bawling brats and too much luggage. A young man in his late twenties caught her eye. He was sitting alone just outside the restroom, reading a magazine. His taut T-shirt read "Easy Access," causing Sally Ann to smile. He obviously worked out. Nice biceps. Even better pectorals. But he didn't look up from his magazine.
Inside the cramped restroom, she quickly lowered her skirt and sat down on the commode. Sally Ann was still flush from recalling her first lesbian encounter, and now she found herself thinking about the young man on the other side of the door. The train gently swayed, rocking her. Sally Ann touched herself. What are you doing? she thought. You'd can't get off in the ladies room of an Amtrak! But she was, in spite of the little voice crying inside her head. First, a finger found its was into her honey-pot, then another. She envisioned the young man's muscular thighs wrapped around her, imagined his mouth sucking her nipples, felt his hands on her ass. "Umm," she moaned, trying not to be too loud.
She reached inside her purse, looking for something long and hard, like she imagined the young man's cock would be. Sally Ann's hand found her hairbrush. That would have to do. She circled the brush's handle around her cunt lips, feeling them moisten. "Ooooh!" she exclaimed as it slipped into her pussy. With her other hand, Sally Ann diddled her clit. Closing her eyes, she could see the handsome stranger thrusting his love lance into her with unbridled abandon. That long pink spear rubbed her nubbin to the point of frenzy. The hairbrush handle sank deeper.
Sally Ann felt a climax building. Suddenly, the train lurched and the hairbrush pushed abruptly all the way into her pussy. "Ahhhh!" she moaned in spite of herself. Cum flowed freely from her succulent hole. Her entire body convulsed with shivers of ecstasy as the climax tore through her. Sally Ann sat spent for a couple minutes. Then, she heard someone knocking on the other side.
"Is everything all right in there? Other people have to use this restroom too, y'know?" It was a man's voice.
Embarrassed, afraid someone had heard her, Sally Ann quickly pulled up her skirt, washed her hands, and opened the cubicle door. There he was, the object of her most recent fantasy, standing uncomfortably on the other side.
"Sorry," Mr. "Easy Access" apologized, "but I really have to go." He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, obviously in a state of discomfort.
"Be my guest," Sally Ann said. "It's all yours."
"Name's Billy," he said, extending his hand.
"Sally Ann."
"Well, I guess I'd better.. . . "
"Yeah, you'd better, before you have an accident," she laughed.
Billy smiled at her invitingly. "Maybe we can talk later. Going to New York?"
"All the way to the end of the line."
"You're going all the way?" The double entendre was too obvious to ignore. Sally Ann thought him a bit forward.
"Please, I don't want you to have an accident," Sally Ann said. "I'm sitting a few seats behind you."
Billy slipped into the restroom. "See you in a minute."
"Nice meeting you." Sally Ann smiled to herself as she headed back through the aisle. Maybe he was from New York and could give her directions how to get to Josette's place. She could use a travel guide.
"Penn Station is our next and last stop," boomed the conductor officiously. New York City, here I come! Sally Ann was ready for anything!
CHAPTER TWO
Billy returned momentarily from the restroom, all smiles.
"Feel better?" Sally Ann inquired.
"Much, thanks. Do you want some company?"
Sally Ann looked at her watch. "Sure, but the conductor just announced that the next and last stop is Penn Station. That's in New York, right?"
Billy laughed brightly. "Boy, you really are from out-of-town, aren't you?"
Sally Ann gave him the vest-pocket edition of her life and what was bringing her to, as Billy called it, The City of Sodom.
"I think it's brave of you to leave Ohio for a city where you don't know anyone," he said. "But please be careful. This woman, Josette, that you mentioned. What do you know about her?"
"Only that she was a former student of my ballet teacher, Miss Farrell," Sally Ann said. "She's a choreographer now. I've talked to her a couple times of the phone, and she seems really nice. Besides, I've been told what rents are like in New York City. I can't afford those prices."
Billy pulled a business card from his wallet and wrote something on the back of it. He handed it to
Sally Ann. "Just in case things don't work out with you and Josette, or if you need someone to take you around the city, even just to talk to, please call me. My home phone number's on the back of the card."
The imagine green and gray business card read: "William H. Thomas, attorney," with his firm's address, phone and fax numbers at the bottom.
"You seem so young to be a lawyer."
"I'm thirty-four. It's not like I'm a partner or anything-yet. And I work out at a gym four times a week. That's what keeps me looking younger than lam."
"What's the 'H' for?" Sally Ann asked, slipping his card into her purse, noting the hairbrush handle inside was still slick with pussy juice.
"Hot," he grinned. Sally Ann was attracted by his boyish smile and his long-lashed, light-brown eyes. Then, there was that body!
"No, really, tell me. Everybody hates their middle name."
"It's Harrison."
"I like Hot better."
"I'll bet you do."
Sally Ann couldn't help but notice her new friend was sprouting a formidable hard-on. Its outline was clearly visible through his tight blue jeans, running halfway down his thigh. Billy caught her staring.
"See anything you like?" he asked enticingly.
"Yes. But, unfortunately, nothing I can do anything with on a train."
"You'd be surprised."
"I think we're moving a little too fast," Sally Ann protested, though she felt her resistance waning.
Billy pressed his leg against her thigh.
"C'mon. Who knows if we'll ever see each other again? This may be our only opportunity."
"But I have your business card. I have your phone number."
"That doesn't mean you'll use it," Billy said. "And you didn't give me yours."
Sally Ann felt her cheeks flush. "Well, uh.. .I hardly know you, and it's Josette's number. I don't want her to think I have strange men calling me already."
"So now I'm strange, huh?" Billy pressed his thigh harder against her. "What was taking you so long in the restroom, sweetheart?"
Oh my gosh. He knows I jerked off in there! Sally Ann thought, blushing even more furiously. "What most people do when they have to use the restroom," she finally managed to stammer. "It just takes women longer."
Billy leaned towards the pretty blonde Midwesterner and whispered in her ear. "Especially when they've got their hairbrush stuck up their twat. I peeked through the crack. Sorry, but I had to, um, relieve myself, too."
Indignant and ashamed, Sally Ann turned away from Billy, watching the scenery as the train sped closer to her destination. "You must think I'm a pervert," she said quietly.
"I think you're a knockout. You've got a lot going for you, honey. I feel protective because part of you seems so naive."
"Then why are you trying to take advantage of me?"
"Who's taking advantage of whom? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we have a mutual attraction going on here."
"Even if I am attracted to you, Billy," Sally Ann said, "this isn't the time or place. We'll be at Penn Station any minute."
"That just makes it more exciting," Billy enthused. "And there's no one sitting around us. Feel this and tell me you don't want it." He placed her sweaty hand on his thigh, over his expanding cock. "Give me your purse."
"Why?"
"You can give me a hand job, but we'll need something to cover my lap."
Sally Ann passed him the purse.
"By the way, do you have a brush I can borrow?" he laughed wickedly, placing the purse discreetly over his groin.
"Don't you feel a little, um, odd, holding a purse."
"I'd rather hold these," Billy said, giving her tits a quick feel. "You have great breasts. Let me guess-36C, right?"
"So Billy's a boob freak, huh?" Sally Ann said. "Some people think I'm too stacked to be a ballet dancer." Billy returned to the task of pulling his stiff pecker from his fly. She watched, fascinated, as the young lawyer inched the drooling, fleshy knob from its confines. He placed her hand on his fuck tool.
"Well, there are other types of dancers," he suggested, trying to keep the conversation going so no one would notice them. "You could be a Rockette." His voice dropped. "Squeeze it, baby.
Whack me off good."
"Squeeze it?" she exclaimed. "I can't even get my hand around it. It's thick as a soda can. And, by the way, I didn't come to New York to be a Rockette. I want to be a ballet dancer."
An older couple passed them, the white-haired woman appraising them briefly. Sally Ann attempted to pull her hand away, but Billy kept his grip firm on her wrist.
"Just relax, sweetie." He was enjoying the thrill of danger, the possibility of getting caught. The senior citizens moved on. "That's it, pull the skin back and forth," Billy urged. "Play with that foreskin. Ahhhh! Yeah. Now you've got the rhythm."
Sally Ann's hand was slick with his pre-cum. She used his slime as a lubricant to rub on the cock knob, to make the turgid shaft slick as an eel. A musky, fecund odor-the scent of male desire-rose from Billy's crotch. Sally Ann felt her cauldron of lust begin to boil. It needed stirring. With her other hand, she discreetly reached into her panties and began playing with herself.
"Go for it, honey," Billy encouraged, noticing how aroused his latest conquest was getting. "Let me give you a hand-or at least a couple of fingers!"
Suddenly, the train went black. Sally gasped. "It's okay, baby," Billy said. "We've just entered the tunnel."
"The tunnel?"
"Yeah. You have to go through a train tunnel to get into Penn Station. We're underground now."
"So, we're nearly there."
"In more ways than one. C'mon, don't stop. We've still got some time. Wank me, baby. Make me cum and I'll help you cum, too."
Lost in blissful ecstasy, the once-bashful blonde continued her ministrations to Billy's pulsing penis. She'd never seen so much pre-cum in Freddy, her only other male lover. It was like a faucet. She reached under his sex stalk and hefted Billy's big balls. If only he wasn't wearing tight jeans, she could really give him a hand job-and a blow job, too. Sally Ann absently licked her luscious crimson lips, thinking about what his cum would taste like. Freddy never let her swallow his. He always yanked his hose out of her sucking mouth and squirted on her face.
"Lick me," Billy requested, thrusting his hips up. "No one can see. Do it. Please!"
Realizing time was precious, Sally Ann lowered her head to his lap. She tentatively touched the head of his dick with the tip of her tongue, tasting the warm, salty fluid. Her own saliva drooled out of her mouth, further coating his organ.
"Go further, honey. Take it in your mouth." Billy's fingers were still buried in her bush, his middle finger tapping her love button teasingly. Sally Ann took the large knob into her mouth while Billy continued to raise his hips. More of his mammoth man shaft slipped into her mouth, The corona was knocking on her gullet. Let me in! it seemed to say. Deep-throat me now!
Her lover's fingers moved frantically in her pussy. Sally Ann knew her fluids were running down her thighs, and she didn't care. All she could think about was the sensations occurring in her mouth and cunt.
"You like that big dick, don't you?" Billy asked, stroking her blonde hair. "You like eating tube steak. Now, just relax your throat and let Big Billy take his billy club down deeper."
All Sally Ann could do was moan. As the train chugged nearer and nearer to her new life, her pussy gushed its juices on Billy's probing fingers. She felt overwhelmed with emotion, and her excitement stimulated her throat, which finally opened, just as Billy'd requested.
"You've got it! All my dick's inside of your mouth now, baby. Oh, wow. You're an incredible cocksucker. You're gonna make me blow. I want to cum. Can I cum in your mouth? Can I?"
Still squirming on his pivoting fingers, Sally Ann managed a muffled "Mmmmmm hmmm."
"Cum with me, sweetheart," Billy moaned. "Let's get off together."
Sally Ann wished she could tell him that she'd already cum a few times; surely, Billy could feel how juicy she was down there.
Then it happened. The freakishly long schlong exploded deep in her throat. Billy's cock was buried so deeply that, if Billy hadn't cried out a warning that he was cumming, she wouldn't have known.
"Ahhhhhh! Ohhhh, baby, you've got my seed. Eat me!" Billy clenched his eyes tightly and threw back his head in rapture.
Sally Ann drew back slightly, so that she could taste her lover's nectar. It was much thicker and saltier than his pre-cum, intoxicatingly exotic, she thought.
Yes, I could definitely get used to this!
Meanwhile, Billy's fingers did the walking-right up to her G-spot. Even his fingers were oversized, and he made the most of their length. Sally Ann sat up from her delicious treat. Now, it was her turn.
"Oh, right there," she sighed, grabbing his wrist to keep those fingers placed on her erogenous zone.
"How's it feel, honey? You like Hot Billy playing with your pussy?"
"You know I do," she whimpered. "I wish you could fuck the hell out of me right now."
"Later. You know the saying: good things come to those who wait."
"Don't make me wait any longer," Sally Ann cried. "I'm so close. So close. Ummmm. Ooooooooh."
Just as Sally Ann climaxed on Billy's hand, all the lights in the Amtrak came on.
"Perfect timing," Billy laughed.
"That's easy for you to say." Sally Ann's skirt was hiked to her belly, her panties around her ankles. She and Billy adjusted their disheveled clothing. He handed her back her purse.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the conductor boomed, "we have arrived at Penn Station, our last stop on this train."
"Welcome to New York," Billy said, kissing her quickly on the cheek. "I have a feeling you're going to do just fine here."
Billy asked her where she was headed.
"Greenwich Village. Ever heard of it?" she asked innocently.
"Are you serious? Even people in Dayton have heard of it," Billy said. "What street?"
Sally Ann pulled her filofax from her purse. "Perry Street at Bleecker. Is that far from here?"
"It is if you don't know the transit system. Look, I live around the financial district, which is below Greenwich Village. We'll share a cab, and I'll get you to Josette's. How does that sound?"
"And I was worried I'd never get to see you again. Thanks a lot."
"Hey, baby, it's not every day that I get a blow job like yours-especially on a train. I want to know where to find you again."
They hauled their luggage to a taxi stand outside of Penn Station. The hustle and bustle of Manhattan was overwhelming to the small-town girl. Sally Ann noticed the homeless people crowded in the corners of the bus and train terminal. The commuters had a glazed, numb look on their faces. Outside, at the taxi stand, she took in the neon blaze of the infamous Forty-Second Street.
"REAL LIVE DANCING GIRLS."
"PEEP SHOW-TWENTY-FIVE CENT."
"ANAL ACTION."
"MARITAL AID."
"LESBIAN MUD WRESTLERS" Billy put his arm around Sally Ann comfortingly.
"This is the Times Square district. Just about anything goes here," he commented. "You don't want to be alone in this neighborhood late at night."
"It's so.. .so decadent."
"Are you repelled?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm just not used to seeing stuff like this in Dayton. We don't display dildos in the windows."
Billy cracked a grin. "Just hairbrushes."
"You'll never let me forget that, will you?" She elbowed her new friend in the ribs.
They dumped their luggage into the taxi's trunk and gave the driver their destinations. Sally Ann watched, wide-eyed, as the city whizzed by her. She'd never seen buildings so tall, streets so congested. But there was an almost palpable energy here. No wonder so many young people come here to realize their dreams, she thought. It's all here.
As if on cue, "New York, New York" came on the radio. Billy sang along on the "If I can make it there--I'll make it anywhere" chorus. "Scared?" he asked her. "Wondering if you made the right choice?"
"Yes," she admitted. "I miss home."
"Of course you do, babe. But we're gonna make this town your home-your new home." He squeezed her hand. "I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Sally Ann warned.
Suddenly, the tall buildings gave way to quaint brownstones and cafes on cobblestone streets meandering every which way. Even the people looked different here. The clothes were funkier, the hair styles more outrageous. Sally Ann counted at least three Mohawks of different colors.
"I guess we're in the Village, right?"
"You got it," Billy said. "I think you'll be comfortable here. People are more, um, open-minded."
The cab pulled up in front of what looked like a horse stable.
"Wow, it's a converted carriage house," Billy exclaimed. "Does Josette live here alone? It's prime real estate."
"Just the top floor, she told me."
"Well, I'm going to leave you here," Billy said. "Don't lose my card. Call me. I mean it. And thanks for a fantastic voyage." He flashed his famous smile again. She waved good-bye as the taxi sped down the narrow street.
I wonder if I'll ever see him again?
Josette Dupres had sent her new roommate a set of keys, so Sally Ann didn't bother buzzing. She lugged her heavy suitcases and her dance bag up a creaking flight of stairs. The building was obviously turn-of-the-century, but it had been well maintained, with exposed brick walls and carpeting in the hallways. It was a far cry from her parent's home in Dayton, but intriguing.
Sally Ann knocked lightly, then tried her key. The door opened into a spacious, well-lit but sparsely furnished room with parquet floors. It reminded her of a dance studio. A small kitchen off the living room abutted the bathroom. Sally Ann put down her bags and peeked in the bathroom, marveling at an old claw-foot tub.
"Hello?" Sally Ann called out. "Anyone home?" No answer.
On the other side of the room, the young dancer spied another door. That must be my room, she surmised. Sally Ann moved toward the closed door and, without thinking twice, opened it.
She gasped. So did the couple fucking in bed.
"What in the hell?" he man exclaimed, his cock buried in a woman whom Sally presumed to be Josette. She had a brunette bob with bangs. Sally Ann thought she looked very much like the beatniks from the fifties. Her shaved pussy was astride her lover's penis, as if she were riding a horse. Josette pulled out his wet penis, grabbing the sheet to cover herself.
"I'm so sorry," Sally Ann apologized. "I knocked on the front door. I didn't think anyone was home."
"Who the fuck are you?" the man demanded.
"You must be Sally Ann," Josette guessed. "Remember, Deke? I told you a friend of a friend from Ohio was going to be staying with me for a while?"
"That was some introduction," the blonde, still shocked, said. "I'll just be outside." Sally began to step out of the bedroom and close the door, but Deke interrupted.
"Hey, we're all family here. If you're gonna live here, you better get used to people in their all-togethers." Deke, who had the sinewy body of a dancer, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
"That's right, Sally Ann. You're more than welcome to stay here as long as you like, but I have very few inhibitions. I hope that doesn't bother you." Josette rose from the bed and pulled a red satin robe over her pert titties. "In fact, I work on a lot of my dances here-in the nude. Didn't Miss Farrell tell you? My choreography often is performed au naturel."
Sally Ann sat down on one of her suitcases, perplexed. This was all so much to absorb in one day. The long train ride. Sex with Billy in a public place. And now this! Should I turn around and beeline back to Ohio before it's too late? she thought.
As if reading her mind, Josette came over to the frightened Midwesterner. "Darling, we're all beginners at one point. Don't leave yet. Give New York a chance. What do you say?"
Sally Ann looked from Josette to Deke and back to Josette again. "Do you really want me to stay?"
"More than you'll ever know," Deke replied. "More than you'll ever know."
CHAPTER THREE
Dear Diary, I'm finally here in the Big Apple. Can't believe it. I met my new roomie, Josette, and her "friend," Deke. It was, as they say, a "close encounter" of best kind. Caught them in bed, actually. Strange, neither seemed to mind. They 're very open-minded, but, I guess, that's what it's like to be a Greenwich Village bohemian. Today, I'm going job hunting. Deke knows the owner of a imagine New York restaurant who's looking for a hostess, so I'm going for it. Got to get a dance class in sometime today. Josette knows of a place where classes are only ten bucks. I'm already getting worried about money. This is an expensive city. But, like Josette says, "a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do," to get by here. I'll give it a shot.
Sally Ann clutched her subway map on the train platform. This was her first experience with the New York City Transit, and it was like another world. They didn't have subways in Dayton. But Josette had told her it was faster and cheaper than taking a taxi. Sally Ann had to get to East Fifty-Seventh Street from the Village and, according to the map, that was a long way. And there were so many train lines, she hoped she didn't get on the wrong subway.
"You look like you could use some help."
Sally Ann jumped. She hadn't even noticed the well-dressed, gray-haired man standing next to her. Instinct told her not to answer him. Even though he looked like a typical businessman, he might be carrying an Uzi or some other weapon in his briefcase. She tucked the map inside her purse.
"Hey, it's okay," the man said. "We're all out-of-towners at one point."
Sally heard the roar of a train approaching. Was it the right one? What if she got lost? Her interview at the restaurant was in forty-five minutes. "Is this the B train?" she asked him desperately.
"It is," he answered. "Where do you need the go?"
Sally Ann told him her destination as the train pulled up in front of them.
"C'mon," he told her. "I'm going in that direction. I live on East Fifty-Ninth."
Still skeptical, Sally Ann allowed the handsome stranger to escort her into the subway car. It was midday and the train was crammed with straphangers. Not a seat in sight.
"Here, grab on," the man told her as the B train jerked abruptly forward, nearly topping her. The movement jostled her, and she bumped into a fortyish-looking woman who scowled at her.
"Sorry," she said, thinking how unfriendly the city seemed.
As if reading her mind, the businessman touched her elbow. "You just happened to pick one of the busiest times of the day to travel," he said. "Everyone's in a hurry."
"Everyone's always in a hurry here," she opined.
"My name's James."
"Sally Ann. I'd shake your hand, but I can't move."
James laughed. He, too, was wedged between oblivious commuters. "First time in New York?"
Afraid to give him too much information about herself, Sally Ann lied. "Oh, no. I just don't usually take the subway."
"You prefer the buses?" he asked. She nodded. "Which line do you ride?"
Sally Ann was caught off guard. She knew as much about Manhattan buses as she did about the subways. "Okay, you got me. I'm from Dayton. Just got into New York a few days ago."
"I suspected you were an out-of-towner," James smiled. "And you're already on your guard. Hey, don't get me wrong. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"
She nodded. "Are we almost there yet?"
"No. There're quite a few more stops." The train halted at the next station. Hoards of people disgorged from the car. Two seats were vacant, and Sally Ann and James quickly took them. Now, she had an opportunity to size him up. James, she estimated, was in his late forties. Blue eyes. Under his obviously expensive, Italian-cut suit, it was evident he'd stayed in shape. No wedding ring, she noted.
"Are you from the city?" she asked.
"Boston."
"Oh, did you go to Hah-valid?" Sally Ann teased, making a poor attempt at a New England accent.
"Stanford Business School, actually," he smiled again. "Now I'm an investment broker. Boring, I know, and I hate Wall Street-that's the part of the city where I have my office-but it's a good living."
"Funny, I just met another fellow who works around the financial district," Sally Ann said, thinking of Billy.
"Don't tell me his name. I probably know him," James said. "Well, this is our stop."
Suddenly, the greenhorn Midwesterner was glad she had an escort. As they ascended the steps, Sally Ann realized she had no idea where she was. She reached into her purse for the restaurant's address.
"Oh, you're going to Chez Pierre?" James inquired. "I eat there all the time. "It's a three-star restaurant, you know."
"I don't care how many stars as long as I get this job," she answered him.
"Look, why don't I walk you to the restaurant? I could meet you there in an hour, and I'll treat you to dinner."
Sally Ann was touched by his generosity. "Gee, James, I don't know. We've only just met."
"So, we'll get to know each other better." His blue eyes appraised her. "I'm a nice guy, really."
"You don't have to convince me." She saw the striped red and white awning with the restaurant's name emblazoned in black script across the plate glass window. Small cafe tables were strategically positioned on the sidewalk. Never having been to Europe, Sally Ann imagined this would be the kind of place one might find on some Paris side street-maybe with a artist painting passersby.
"Here were are. What do you say?" James persisted.
Sally Ann relented. "Oh, all right. I probably won't get the job anyway, and I'll need some cheering up."
"Don't be a pessimist. See you in an hour, my dear."
As soon as she entered Chez Pierre, Sally Ann felt intimidated. She didn't even read or speak French, and, clearly, this place attracted a well-heeled cosmopolitan clientele. Catching her reflection in a large gilded mirror, she thought she looked frumpy and out of place. She was almost ready to turn around and walk out when a young man about her age approached her.
"Do you have a reservation?" he asked in heavily accented French.
"No, I have an appointment-for a job here," she replied. "I'm supposed to see a Mr. Bouvier."
"Oh, you must be Sally Ann. I'm Jean-Claude Bouvier, the owner. Deke's told me such good things about you. He used to work here, too, you know."
He's so young to own his own business, Sally Ann thought. Jean-Claude took her into his office in the rear.
"Let me get right to the point," he said directly. "I need a hostess who's good with people. I don't care if she speaks French, because our clientele is international. But I am looking for a woman who is capable, attractive and sophisticated. Someone who's not intimidated by short-tempered Upper East Side snobs, snooty weekend tourists, and customers who demonstrate their cultural differences. For example, a Frenchman might snap his fingers and say 'garcon!' when he wants his bill. Whereas, the Swiss usually expect you to attend to them, requiring that the waiter watch that table closely to see when they're finished dining. Do you get the picture, Sally Ann?"
"I've never worked in a restaurant like this," Sally Ann admitted.
"Neither had Deke. But I trained him well because I intuited he'd adapt nicely. I'd like to propose that we hire you on a trail basis. I'll have the hostess who's leaving train you for a week. Then, you're on your own. And if things don't work out, c'est la vie."
Whatever that is, Sally Ann thought. Things are moving so fast. She caught Jean-Claude staring at her boobs. She'd worn a low-cut lavender blouse that displayed her ample cleavage. So that's what he's after, she surmised. Just like all the others.
"Would you like to see my resume?"
"What I see is what I like," Jean-Claude replied. "Do you like what you see, mademoiselle?"
"It's a beautiful restaurant."
"Don't be coy, Sally Ann. You know what I'm talking about."
Boy, he really wants to cut to the chase. Okay, I'll play along.
"I find you quite attractive," she said. "Is it true that French men are all romantic."
"Let me show you."
Jean-Claude kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into the depths of her mouth, feeling her heat. His hands found her heaving tits and squeezed them. Unbuttoning her blouse, his eager fingers unclasped her bra and snapped it open. Sally Ann threw her head back, a cascade of blonde hair spilling over her naked shoulders. Jean-Claude's sensual lips fastened to her rosy, rock-hard nipples.
"Yes, darling. Suck my titties," she urged.
With one hand holding the breast he was suckling, Jean-Claude used his other one to reach under her skirt. She shucked down her lace panties, and Sally Ann kicked them away from her high heels. The French man found her wet bush and inserted an index finger.
"Ahhh!" Sally Ann moaned, thrusting out her pelvis.
Jean-Claude stopped tit sucking and looked up into her passion-glazed eyes. "like it? Do you want more than just a finger, mon cheri?"
"Oh, yes, honey. Gimme all you've got."
Sally Ann heard the sound of a zipper. She glanced down at his trousers to see a long, uncircumcised cock snake out of its confines. She'd never seen a foreskin before, and the fleshy overhang intrigued her. She reached out to touch it. It's like a little hood for the dick, she observed, sticking her finger inside and feeling Jean-Claude's pre-cum.
"Pull it back and suck it, Sally Ann."
Obeying orders, she latched onto the dickhead and skinned the extra flesh back, revealing a pink corona. Eagerly, her lips parted and she took it into her mouth, sucking it right down her throat. This time, it was far easier than when she blew Billy on the train. Jean-Claude's big dick had a slight curve, which seemed designed to slip right down a girl's gullet.
"Oh, baby, that's what I want. What I need. Now, give me a taste of you."
The young man fell to his knees and buried his head between her parted thighs. First, he sniffed the aroma of her pussy, inhaling ecstatically. Then, he opened her twat with his fingers and peered inside the inviting pink interior. Jean-Claude's tongue located her buzz button and flicked rapidly.
"Mmmmm, ohhhh, baby. Eat me. Suck my little pearl," Sally commanded. "Go deeper. That's it. Put your mouth on my cunt, stick your tongue inside me."
She was already dripping on his mustache, but he didn't seem to mind. When Jean-Claude finally came up for air, he even licked his chops. "Your elixir is headier than my finest champagne," he complimented. "And now, the piece de resistance!"
Sally Ann may not have understood French, but she was learning a lot about the language of love. Whatever piece de resistance was, she wanted a "piece" of it. Jean-Claude got back on his feet, his massive organ pointing straight at her hole. "I'm going to fuck you, baby, like you've never been boned," he boasted.
"Is this part of my training?"
"An early bonus, let's say."
Suddenly, Sally Ann felt a deep penetration. His tumescent prick banged her abruptly. She gasped, unprepared. "I don't think I can take all of you," she began to protest. She felt filled to the brink of overflowing.
"That's not what your cunt is saying," Jean-Claude said, and smiled wickedly. "It's saying: 'feed me more!'"
He was right. Sally Ann's innards were stretched fully, and she reveled in the feeling. She glanced down to watch as his lance speared her all the way, then withdrew completely, revealing her juices. Then, he plunged in again, threw back his head and moaned in zealous glee.
"Fuck me, darling. Fuck me like the little blonde bitch that I am," Sally demanded. "Tell me how good my pussy feels around that fat ol' peter of yours."
"Your pussy's telling me all I need to know. Open it wide and let me take you over the edge."
Taking advantage of all the years she'd spent stretched out at the barre in ballet class, Sally Ann gave the restaurateur a full split. Jean-Claude never had felt such complete acquiescence. Her pussy was wholly and totally his for the taking. He jackhammered into it, feeling his cum well up.
"I'm so close, darling," Sally Ann warned. "Please, cum with me! Cum, baby, cum! Fill me to the brim!"
Her prompting was all he needed. He pulled his raging ramrod out of her sweet pussy pie. Aiming at her fleshy boobs, Jean-Claude shot a missile of cum right between them. It ran down her belly and back to her bush.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned through the explosion.
"I'm cumming, too," Sally Ann screamed. "Oh, Jean-Claude, you've made me cum good!"
Head flailing, his balls bouncing from side to side, Jean-Claude watched the buxom blonde writhe in unabashed lust. This was the best sex he'd had in a long time. She's going to work out just fine, he thought.
The two horny twenty-somethings collected their clothes just as Jean-Claude's phone rang. He spoke in angry French to whomever was on the other side.
"I have to go see the chef in the kitchen," he apologized. "He's new, too, and doesn't work well under pressure. Can you start tomorrow night?"
Sally Ann shifted back to business. "Sure. Do I have to wear a uniform or anything?"
"Something understated-black and elegant. An Ann Klein or a Channel will be sufficient." Jean-Claude noticed the dumbfounded look on her face. "Do you have anything like that?"
"Of course," she lied, hoping Josette had such a dress in her closet. "By the way, I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine here for dinner in about fifteen minutes. Can I wait for him at the bar?"
"Absolument!" Jean-Claude escorted her to the door of his office. "Is this a special friend?"
"Oh, no. Just someone who's showing me around New York."
"Normally, we give our employees a fifteen percent discount on dinner if they want to eat here," Jean-Claude said, suddenly all business. "But tonight I'll make an exception. You and your friend may order anything on the menu, including wine, and it's on the house. I'll tell your waiter."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"
"My dear, the pleasure has been all mine. You satisfied my appetite. Let me satisfy yours and your friend's."
"Well, did you get the job?" James asked. He'd shown up right on time. His business suit had been replaced by a handsome suede sport coat, chinos, and fashionable leather boots. He looked ten years younger.
Altering her story where necessary, Sally Ann beamed with enthusiasm. "And we don't even have to pay for dinner," she bragged. "The owner said it was on the house. So, let's indulge."
"I was looking forward to treating you," James said, somewhat disappointed.
"This is a treat, James. Just being with you is a treat."
"Aw, you say the nicest things," he grinned.
"That's because I'm from Ohio," she laughed.
"If I can't treat you to dinner, then let me take you dancing afterwards."
"Oh, James, I don't know. Tomorrow is my first day of work. I don't want to stay out too late. And I've heard that clubs here don't start hopping until the wee hours."
"I have a fantastic sound system and a terrace that looks out on the skyline," James said. "We could go back to my penthouse and dance on the terrace. I'll bet you're a terrific dancer."
Sally Ann explained that, in fact, that was why she'd come to Manhattan. James's thigh pressed against hers. She hoped Jean-Claude didn't walk by and see them.
A waiter arrived and took their order. Chez Pierre was crowded. Sally Ann surmised she was going to have her work cut out for her here.
"You look so preoccupied," James observed. "Why don't you just cut loose and have a good time tonight. I promise I won't keep you out late. In fact, I have a car; I can drive you home later." His thigh pressed insistently. A hand reached out and stroked her cheek. The young woman flushed. She sighed.
"All right. But you've got to get me home before midnight."
"Okay, Cinderella." James's blue eyes were bright with anticipation.
"Thank you, Prince Charming."
From behind the bar, Jean-Claude collected the evening's liquor receipts. He'd assumed Sally Ann's "friend" was a man, but, judging from his blatant interest in her, it was apparent the gray-haired gentleman had designs on her, too. This girl really gets around.
James's penthouse condominium looked like a spread straight out of Architectural Digest, Sally thought. French antiques adorned the sunken living room. The marble bathroom was the size of Josette's entire apartment. And, as he ushered her to his bedroom, Sally Ann was reminded of a photograph she'd once seen of Hugh Hefner's private chambers. A king-sized, four-poster bed was smothered in satin and silk sheets. On the wall hung a massive gold-encrusted mirror. Her feet sank into an invitingly plush Chinese rug. In spite of herself, she gasped in awe.
"This is like something out of a movie, James."
"You're like something out of a movie. One of those femme fatales from the Forties. Dangerously appealing."
Sally Ann laughed nervously. "Nothing dangerous about little ol' me."
"I'm not afraid of danger, my dear." James appraised her up and down. "There's something sexy about it, don't you think?"
He led her out onto the terrace, which, indeed, had a stunning view of the city lights. She grasped the wrought iron railing, feeling as if she were lost in the clouds. James, standing behind her, pressed himself gently against her back.
"Now, what about that dance? Sally Ann, show me some of your best moves."
CHAPTER FOUR
Life moved along at a gallop as Sally Ann became acclimated to New York. Weeks passed into months. Occasionally, James called her, but she'd made it clear to him that there simply weren't enough hours in the day to make any kind of relationship commitment. Still, sex with him was great, and he enjoyed lavishing her with expensive dinners, baubles from Tiffany's or Carrier, andher favorite gift of all-tickets to the ballet.
Regarding her dancing, Sally Ann was disappointed in herself. She was struggling so hard to make ends meet that she'd only been able to take an occasional dance class. On the plus side, however, it was good to have a roommate like Josette. Every morning, the two young women turned the spacious living room into a studio, where they stretched and practiced various ballet routines. And there was Deke, who was a member of a small modern dance company. Between the three of them, they kept in shape.
Although Sally Ann slept on a futon in the main room, Deke and Josette frequently invited her into their bedroom for three-ways. Josette, who'd lived abroad a few years between Ohio and New York, was very open minded about sex. "I don't make distinctions between being bisexual, heterosexual or homosexual," she once explained to Sally Ann. "I am, quite simply, sexual."
"Sexual" hardly described the insatiable appetite of the lithe brunette with the Louise Brooks bob. Josette could go on endlessly. One Friday night, on the cusp of the weekend, Josette and Deke took turns giving the blonde nymph head for what seemed like hours. Sally Ann had had a rough week at Chez Pierre, and, frankly, she was too tired to participate in sex when it was suggested by Josette and Deke.
"I'm really beat, Josette," Sally Ann had protested. "I just need to take a long, hot bath and go to bed."
"You won't have to do anything. Just lay back and let Deke and me ravish you."
Easily persuaded, Sally Ann was led into the bedroom, where Deke was waiting in a deep purple and black robe. Its sash was deliberately loose and revealing, so she could see his genitals. She noted that four short lengths of rope were attached to each of the four bed posters. Confused, Sally Ann turned to her roommate.
"Have you ever been tied up, sweetie?" Josette asked.
"Gosh no. Why would anyone want to be tied up?"
Deke laughed. "You really are naive. Hey, that's okay. It's refreshing to see there are still some innocent women in the world."
Josette glared at him. "Not to mention all those
'been there-done that' men. You're so jaded, Deke, that I could stand on my head with a dildo hanging out of my cunt and you wouldn't bat an eye."
"I'd like to see that, hon." Deke turned to his new charge. "We thought we'd introduce you to a little B&D action-if you're up for it."
"B&D? What's that?" Sally Ann inquired.
"Bondage and discipline," Josette answered. She was deliciously naked now, lighting some incense, then pouring wine to help remove Sally Ann from her puritanical misgivings.
"That sounds painful."
"Oh, not at all," Deke said, leading Sally Ann to the bed and undressing her. "You just have to trust your partner implicitly. That's part of the excitement-the danger."
Sally Ann reflected for an instant that James once had said the same thing to her on his terrace.
Flanked by Josette on one side of the bed and Deke on the other, Sally Ann permitted the couple to tie her to the bed spread-eagle. The wine had warmed and aroused her. Deke petted her pussy.
"Mmmmmm, nice and moist." He pushed his middle finger into her pulsing vagina, then sucked her juices off of it.
"Ahhhhh," Sally Ann moaned.
"like it?" Josette asked. Sally Ann could only offer a whimper of lust. "You're going to be just fine. Just let Deke and me take care of everything."
Deke dropped his robe. His turgid boner already was dripping a strand of pre-cum. As his finger located and stroked Sally Ann's clit, Josette tweaked her roommate's rigid nipples, then lowered her head and began to suck the pink erasers intensely.
"Ooooooh. That's right, Josette, lick my nipples. Deke, put another finger in me. My cunny feels so empty." Sally Ann struggled against the ropes, but it was no use. She was tightly bound, at the couple's mercy.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sally Ann watched as Josette discreetly opened the night stand drawer and extracted a long black dildo.
"What are you going to do with that?" Sally Ann demanded.
"What would you like for us to do with it?" Deke asked wickedly.
Arms and legs akimbo, Sally Ann turned her head to glance at her reflection in a nearby floor-length mirror. She was startled at how vulnerable she looked, trussed up and naked. Yet, she was strangely calm. Deke's stroking finger kept her on the verge of cumming, and Josette's thick lips kept Sally Ann's nipples pointing straight up.
Josette applied a thin coating of lubricating jelly to the dildo. "You're so hot you probably won't need this," she noted, "but it'll help with the initial penetration-especially the head."
Deke had situated himself between the buxom blonde's furry snatch. His tongue dove deeply into her honey pot, scooping out her tasty juices. Sally Ann could tell by his loud slurps that the dark-haired dancer was in his element. She stole another look in the mirror. Josette shoved a pillow under Sally Ann's rump, so that her pelvis was raised and ready.
Finally, Deke emerged from between her legs. His mouth and chin were coated with a sheen of Sally Ann's nectar.
"Ready for something a little bigger than a finger or a tongue?" Josette asked.
"Oh, Josette, I just don't know if I can-"
With a start, Sally Ann realized that Josette had inserted the head of the black rubber dick inside her pussy. Because of the pillow under her mid-section, she hadn't been able to see it. But now, looking in the mirror, she could see that the fake phallus was inching its way into her.
"Relax," urged Deke. He kissed her on the lips; she could taste her own cum on them.
After the shock of the initial penetration wore off, Sally Ann stopped worrying, allowing her lovers to pleasure her however they wished. After all, she was enjoying every second. If this was what B&D was all about, she thought, they could put her name at the top of the list as a charter member.
"Ever filmed yourself?" Deke asked.
"Filmed?"
"Yeah. You know, with a camcorder. like a homemade video. People do it all the time. Sometimes they even sell or trade them for other people's videos. They're really hot. Josette has one."
Josette stopped sawing the dildo in and out of Sally Ann long enough to reach under the bed and return with a video camera.
"No, Josette," Sally Ann protested. "Not yet. What if someone saw."
Deke grinned. "That's the point, darlin'. To be seen."
"I know what she means. I was shy about videos at first," recalled Josette. "Afraid people I worked with might see it. Or that, at some point, it would come back to haunt me. Besides we have lots of time for playing. There's so much you have to learn, Sally Ann." Josette set the video camera aside. She returned to the dildo, now buried to the hilt inside Sally Ann.
"Would you like some real dick, sweetheart?" Deke asked as Sally Ann writhed on the bed. Before she could reply, Josette extracted the dildo. Her long, pink tongue licked the lube and cum from stem to stern. Sally Ann felt sadly empty. Looking in the mirror, she noted that her labia were stretched, yawning for something-someone-to fill her up.
As if reading her mind, Deke climbed on the bed, positioning himself between her enticing legs. The pillow raised her hips invitingly, giving him easy access to Sally Ann's cunt. Oh, this is so much better than the dildo, Sally Ann thought. like the song says: Ain't nothin' like the real thing!
Sally Ann would have liked nothing better than to have Deke fuck her all night long, but she felt as though she was excluding her roommate. However, Josette had different ideas. Standing next to Sally Ann, her crotch even with Sally Ann's face, Josette commanded:
"Lick it, bitch. Lick my horny hole."
The abrupt change in Josette's tone took Sally Ann by surprise. No one had ever called her "bitch" before. She intuited dirty talk was part of the B&D scene.
"Yeah, whore. Stick your tongue up Josette's ass," Deke added, thrusting wildly into the blonde vixen's box.
Josette turned her fanny toward the bound blonde beauty and bent over. Her ass thrust into Sally Ann's face.
"Okay, bitch, kiss my ass!"
Before she could protest, Sally Ann's face was buried in the brunette's butt.
"Lick my ass-hole, cunt."
"You little tramp," Deke spat. "Tramps like you were born to kiss ass."
Sally Ann could not reply. Her cries were muffled by Josette's sweet cheeks. Yet, she could not bring herself to tongue her roommate's ass. Even in her fantasies, Sally Ann never had indulged in rimming.
Still buried in her nether regions, Deke was really getting into the verbal abuse. As his cock slammed in and out of Sally Ann, he pinched her tits, making her moan with pleasure into his girlfriend's tush. "Stop whining and eat that ass," Deke demanded. "You're a whore, so act like it."
"Yeah, Sally Ann, put your tongue on my pretty pink pucker!"
Tentatively, Sally Ann licked around Josette's ass-hole.
"Ummmm. That feels fantastic," Josette moaned. "Now, stick your tongue inside."
Sally Ann tried to be obedient. Josette reached around and spread her ass cheeks in order to give her "slave" easy access. It worked; Sally Ann surprised herself, letting raw desire overcome intellect. What was the advice Miss Farrell gave me years ago about dancing? "Don't think, just feel."
"That's it! Now you've got it, slut!" Josette shrieked. Her new "student" was working out just fine.
After some minutes of serious rimming, Sally Ann was rewarded with a muff in her mouth. Josette climbed on the bed, straddled Sally Ann, and slowly eased herself onto the blonde's succulent ruby lips. Facing Deke, Josette groaned in ecstasy as he pinched her nipples into rock-hard pleasure points. Deke's thrusting was becoming more frantic.
"I'm gonna.. .gonna.. .oh, I'm gonna cum!" he cried.
"Go ahead, baby. Shoot right between her tits," Josette ordered. "Give this little cunt your load!"
"Aaaaarrrggghh!" Deke screamed as he felt the semen well up from his ball sac through the shaft and, finally, out of his cockhead. He pulled his dick from Sally Ann's squish just in time for Josette to see her lover's seed arc onto her roommate's tummy.
Watching Deke cum triggered Josette's own orgasm.
"Mmmmmm, bitch," she said, looking down into Sally Ann's bright blue eyes. "Taste my sweet cum. Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!"
Sally Ann was rewarded for her ministrations with Josette's juice. It flooded her mouth like a fountain. She was aware of her own impending orgasm, the sheet under her already damp with cum. After Josette exploded, the dancer eased off Sally
Ann.
"Do you want to get her off, or do you want me to?" Josette asked Deke. "Do you have to ask?"
Deke resumed the same cunt-lapping that had begun this torrid menage a trois. As he licked Sally Ann's clit, Josette slowly untied the ropes. Suddenly, Sally Ann felt unbearably free. Her hands shoved Deke's face far between her legs. His tongue lashed and licked impetuously.
"Now it's my turn," Sally Ann shrieked. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Who wants to take it?"
But there was no time for protest. The dam broke, and Sally Ann was rushing into the arms of ecstasy.
"Aaaaaah! Eeeee!" Her buttocks-still raised on the pillow-thrust up so forcefully that Deke knew he'd be picking pubic hairs from between his teeth for the next few days.
Exhausted and elated, Sally Ann, Josette and Deke lay in each other's arms.
"Bet you never did anything like that in Ohio," Deke said, his limp dick hanging over one thigh like a spent balloon.
"That reminds me." Josette slowly was coming out of her stupor. "Freddy called. I told him you'd get back to him later."
Freddy? Her boyfriend back in the Midwest had all but disappeared from Sally Ann's memory. Although they wrote to each regularly, and occasionally talked to each other's message machine, Sally Ann realized Freddy was not the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. As she showered and slipped into a robe, Sally Ann wondered how she was going to tell Freddy she'd decided not to return to Dayton. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but it would be more painful to lead him on, especially after the years they'd spent dating and planning for their futures.
Deke and Josette's fuck had left her too exhausted to attempt any serious conversation. Sally Ann unfolded the futon and collapsed. She'd worry about Freddy tomorrow.
Saturdays were Sally Ann's least favorite day at the restuarant. Chez Pierre not only got a snobbish East Side brunch crowd in the afternoon, but also, in the evening, the celebrities. They came to the restaurant because it had a reputation for pampering the entertainment industry's elite. Reservations were booked weeks in advance to accommodate them. In the few months Sally Ann had worked in Chez Pierre, she'd seated a Who's Who of "stars."
At first, the glamour and glitz left the small-town girl speechless and intimidated. But, as Jean-Claude had stressed when he'd hired Sally Ann, there was no place in his restaurant for inefficiency. Movie and theater moguls had to eat just like everyone else. So what if a business deal was made over a fifty-dollar filet mignon and creme brulee? Such conspicuous consumption no longer fazed her.
She was making good money at Chez Pierre, working hard for every cent. After her backroom tryst with Jean-Claude on the day he hired her, the debonair Frenchman left her alone. It was a relief not to have to worry that she'd jeopardized her job by fucking her boss. She'd gotten it over and done with on the first day. Better not to mix business with pleasure, she mused to herself. Besides it was not as if she was lacking companionship these days.
"Excuse me, young lady," a familiar deep voice intoned. "I was wondering if you could tell me where the men's room is. I need to yank my jack off."
A startled Sally Ann looked up from the reservation book and into the baby blues of Billy, her "escort" on the Amtrak.
"Oh, my gosh! Billy! I thought I'd never see you again."
Sally Ann was embarrassed. She'd never called Billy back after the one call she'd made to him at his office. And now, here he was in the flesh.
"Got yourself a good job at a great restaurant, I see."
"Well, I've had to make a lot of adjustments. That's one of the reasons I haven't stayed in touch. This city really makes a girl have to hustle-especially in a place like this. What are you doing here?"
"Business. I'm here with a client." Billy nodded in the direction of his table. Sally Ann was surprised to see that Billy's "client" was none other than Lilac Veracruz, a rising star who'd had several hit movies in the last year. "She's got money coming out of her ears and wants to invest some of it," Billy explained. "Chez Pierre happens to be one her favorite places to hang out when she's in New York. In fact, she shares a swanky penthouse apartment with Jean-Claude."
Sally Ann looked down at the reservation book. "I don't see either of your names. How did you sneak by me?"
"Lilac and Jean-Claude are what's the euphemism?-friends. They don't need reservations. Jean-Claude always makes certain there's a table open for Lilac."
"No way!"
"Way," Billy laughed. "Don't you read the tabloids? 'Restaurateur Engaged to Lusty Latina'. "
"Knock me over with a feather." No wonder Jean-Claude hasn't moved in on me. He's got his hands full with that one.
"Would you like me to introduce you?"
"I'd love to, but I'm stuck here. You can see how busy it is. Jean-Claude wouldn't be happy if he saw I was with his girlfriend."
"C'mon, just for a sec. She's a hot tamale," Billy said with a sly wink. "If you know what I mean."
"Well, all right, but just for a quick how-do-you-do."
Sally Ann grabbed a waiter to cover for her while she went to meet Lilac. Billy led her to his table.
The young investor made the introductions. Up close, Lilac was the exception to the rule: prettier and more seductive than she appeared on film. Her slip of a black dress revealed ample cleavage and plenty of thigh. But what really struck Sally Ann was Lilac's face. "Veracruz" implied she was of Latin ancestry. Yet, if anything, she looked all-American. Her porcelain skin and green cat eyes seemed not to be of this world. Try as she might, Sally Ann could not find a single blemish on her.
Either she's a natural beauty or she has a good makeup artist.
"How do you know Bill?" Lilac asked in her trademark throaty alto.
"I met him on the-"
Billy cut Sally Ann short. "Let's just say we were traveling companions for a while."
"I see," Lilac said, appraising Sally Ann. "Collecting frequent flier miles, I assume."
Sally Ann found her tone unnerving. She knows damn well how we met.
"Actually, it was on the Amtrak," Sally Ann said before Billy could hush her.
"Oh, like Strangers On a Train. Ever see that movie, Sally Ann? It's a classic."
Sally Ann didn't know why, but this lady was getting under her skin. "I'm afraid that movie was before my time."
From behind her, Lilac felt a pair of familiar hands rub Jjer shoulder. She turned around and saw Jean-Claude.
"Sally Ann, why aren't you at the door?"
"Billy wanted me to meet your girlfriend, Mr. Bouvier. I'm sorry; Billy insisted."
"And you know, Jean-Claude, the customer is always right," Billy said, giving Sally Ann a knowing look.
"So, everyone here knows each other?" Jean-Claude sensed that even if this trio didn't know each other intimately now, they would by evening's end. He bent to whisper something in Lilac's diamond-studded ear. She laughed wickedly.
"Well, I have to be getting back," Sally Ann excused herself. This "small world" encounter was making her uneasy. A hidden agenda seemed to be in the works. As she rose to leave, Lilac put her hand on Sally Ann's.
"Dear, we're all headed to that new nightclub, Atrocity. Why don't you join us when you get off? I'm sure Bill would love the company."
"Two's company, three's a crowd, and four's an orgy." Bill laughed at his own joke, his eyes burning more intensely into Sally Ann's. "Besides, you owe me one, Sally Ann. I chauffeured you to your apartment like a shepherd returning his little lost lamb."
Jean-Claude spied a nearby waiter. "Gerard, take over for Sally Ann." The waiter nodded obediently.
"We're leaving now?" Sally Ann felt under-dressed and ugly in the presence of Lilac. Her self-confidence was at a low ebb. Billy noticed her reticence.
"Relax," he advised. "Let your hair down. I'll take care of the rest."
What is "the rest"? she wondered. As if he'd read her mind, Billy put his hand on her thigh and squeezed gently but firmly.
For a city of eight million, New York was getting smaller by the day.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dear Diary, Last night I had the most wonderful time at a club in Manhattan called Atrocity. It was in a bad neighborhood in the meat packing district, so, naturally, I wasn't thrilled about going. But Jean-Claude knew everyone, and I-along with Billy and Lilac Veracruz-didn't even have to stand in the long line of people waiting to get in. Jean-Claude has clout. Of course, there was no shortage of compliments for Lilac ("Loved your last picture, Ms. Veracruz"; "You look even more radiant in person "; "I've seen every movie you've ever made. Can I have an autograph ? ") Blah, blah, blah.
Why is a mere signature so important to people?
"Well," she obliged grudgingly, "okay, but just one. I'm here to have a good time, just like you-not to sign my name on matchbooks and napkins all evening."
Inside the club, it looked like a bomb had just blown up the place. Billy explained that it was a "theme club," and was intentionally designed to resemble a shell-shocked building in Bosnia. That, I thought, seemed in especially bad taste. But no one else in the club seemed to care about the decor.
The DJ really had me rocking. After a few too many Sea breezes, I was feeling my oats. I grabbed Billy and pulled him to the dance floor. Lilac and Jean-Claude joined us. All around us were famous people and wannabes. There were gorgeous men in mesh tank tops to show off their glistening, hairless chests; there were women wearing see-through plastic party dresses.
We left about four A.M., piled into Jean-Claude's limo and headed for our homes. What a night!
"He's coming when?" Sally Ann asked incredulously.
"He said a week or two, whenever he can get someone to cover for him at his job," Josette said. She saw the fallen expression on Sally Ann's face. "Hon, let's face it. You've moved on to a different aspect of your life that Freddy would never understand. He's holding out for the nice white house with the picket fence and two-point-three children. If I may be blunt, Sally Ann, it's not as if you've really missed him while you've been in the city."
"Where's he gonna stay?" Sally asked. "There's hardly enough room here to put me up, let alone another person."
"Someone you're not sexually attracted to anymore," Josette interjected.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Sally Ann thought. Just when things were going so well. She was meeting people who were doing things-important things-with their lives. Last night had been especially fun. When they left Atrocity and piled into the waiting limo, Jean-Claude had already made sure the champagne was waiting. There was even a small television in the back seat with a VCR that was showing X-rated flicks.
"C'mon, everyone, indulge!" Jean-Claude demanded. He already had one hand up Lilac's little black party dress. She'd worn no underwear, making access to her "golden treasure" easy for Jean-Claude.
Billy reached for Sally Ann, who drew back. "Don't you think this is a little, well, kinky? I mean, Lilac's a client, Jean-Claude's my boss. I wouldn't want to put either of us in jeopardy-"
"This is gonna clinch the deal," Billy predicted. "Don't you see, Sally Ann? If they feel comfortable enough having sex in front of people they hardly know, well, that just demonstrates their trust in us-especially me-since I'm the one handling Lilac's financial affairs."
And sexual affairs too, I'm sure, thought Sally Ann. By this time, Jean-Claude had taken the bottle of champagne from its cooler, holding the long-necked bottle to Lilac's cunt.
"It's so cold, darling. Please take it away."
But Jean-Claude was not to be dissuaded. "There's plenty of ice if we need more." He observed Sally Ann and Billy. "Hey, how come you two are sitting there like a pair of pet rocks? Surely you're not inhibited because of us? Don't be. We do this all the time-fuck and suck in the back of the limo. Old Butchie, the driver, doesn't mind, do you?"
"Old Butchie," who deserved his moniker, since he must have been seventy at the least, was philosophical. "I don't mind as long as I don't have to clean up any soiled clothes in the back seat or the cum stains on the upholstery. At my age, I have seen and heard about everything. Now, whether you want me to see the action is another matter. That's why there's a black velvet curtain divider between the front seat and the back. I don't need to see what the loving couples don't want me to see." Jean-Claude pulled the velvet curtain closed.
Meanwhile, Jean-Claude and Lilac were really going at it. The one-piece dress (which, Sally Ann thought looked more like a satin slip) had been slipped off by Jean-Claude's dexterous, probing hands. Her perfectly rounded tips begged for some tongue action, which was exactly when she got. His lips were glued to those breasts like a baby's mouth to a pacifier. The back seat was beginning to waft with the odor of sexual heat. Lilac, now fully naked, straddled Jean-Claude and proceeded to ride, ride, ride-like she was on a bucking bronco. Each time the limo would hit a pothole or make a sudden stop, the lurching sent Jean-Claude's prick further into the luscious recesses of Lilac's cunt.
"Mmmmm," she moaned. "No one ever does me like you, Jean-Claude. You know how to make a woman cum until she is wrung dry."
Despite the live sex show in the limo, Billy and Sally Ann still hadn't gotten into the scene.
"What's wrong with you?" Billy asked Sally Ann. "Don't you find me attractive anymore?"
Sally Ann looked into his liquid blue eyes. "Sweetie, that's the furthest thing from my mind. It just seems like whenever we meet, it's always on a train or a limo. I wish we could just have sex someplace normal, like your apartment, if I ever got an invitation. Then, I wouldn't be so inhibited, you would be in your own place, and we could just fuck ourselves silly. See, I'm not really interested in having strangers watch me have sex. It's all those Ohio moral principles I grew up with, I guess."
"Well, a private rendezvous could definitely be arranged," Billy said. Then, he tapped Jean-Claude lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to go home now. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow's Sunday," Lilac said, still astride Jean-Claude. No one works on Sunday."
"Not true, my love. There's work and there's work."
Lilac laughed in spite of herself. "Then, I guess we're all putting in overtime tonight!"
Actually, Billy did have a lot of real work to attend to on Sunday-most of it related to the Swiss bank account Lilac intended to use to deposit her salary from her last movie, Scruples Be Damned! With a budget of nearly thirty-five million dollars, Scruples Be Damned! was by far the most expensive film in which she'd ever been cast. It starred Dorian Prescot, Donna Seduto and Rachel Brisbaine-three up-and-comers. Sally Ann felt a twinge of envy.
The limo stopped in front of Lilac's swanky penthouse, and she and Jean-Claude got out. As soon as they were gone, Billy pulled back the heavy black velvet curtain separating them from
"Old Butchie."
"Um, we've had a slight change of plans," Billy explained. "I'd like you to drop us off at my place-one-ten Gramercy Park; thank you."
Old Butchie was not unaccustomed a "changes of plans," and expediently got Sally Ann and Billy to their destination.
"They're gonna hate us for cutting out on them," Sally Ann said. "I mean, the guy's my boss."
"Just tell him you had a busy day and could barely keep your eyes open."
Sally gasped audibly when the limo pulled up in front of a stunning turn-of-the-century brownstone. Two knights in armor flanked the front door. "You mean to tell me this actually was someone's house at one point?" she asked Billy.
"As Manhattan grew, so did the neighborhoods," he said, giving her a thumbnail history of Gramercy Park. "Whereas, once Fourteenth Street and its park was where the rich flaunted their opulence, by 1900, Gramercy Park-known initially as a colony of sorts for well-to-do writers and painters-took its place. See that little tavern over there?"
Sally Ann nodded.
"That's where O. Henry wrote The Gift of the Magi."
Once inside the foyer, the doorman greeted Billy with a bright smile. "Did you have a nice evening, Sir?"
"Marvelous, Niles."
Niles looked Sally Ann up and down appraisingly. "Obviously so, sir. Obviously so. Well, have a lovely night. The stars are out; tomorrow's going to be a stunning day if the two of you feel like getting up." He winked at Billy as the elevator door opened, and Sally Ann and Billy got in. He began kissing her rapturously. She pulled away, afraid the door would open and someone would see them clinched together like magnet and steel.
"What floor do you live on?"
"The top," Billy said. "And wait until you see Gramercy Park at night from my balcony. Only those residents who live immediately around the park have keys to gain entrance. It's considered to be the best maintained park in Manhattan-even though it's nowhere on the scale of Central Park. Enough history lessons. Here we are."
Sally Ann was beginning to think she'd been blessed by meeting so many wealthy men with stunning apartments. Billy's was not at all like James's, the man whom she'd met on the subway. The space alone was like a very large dance studio, with plush Middle Eastern rugs. In fact, the whole domain had an other-worldly quality to it.
"The chandelier is from a Louis XVI palace in France," he noted. "But I prefer candles; there's something about them that stirs me up. Just like you do, Sally Ann."
He led her to the master bedroom, where she gasped at the enormity of the bed.
"Hundreds of years ago, royalty believed the size of one's bed determined wealth and power and-perhaps most importantly-the wife's ability to provide heirs for the king."
"You could put my home town in that bed," Sally Ann giggled, the alcohol taking its effect and making her feel horny. She crashed onto it, kicking off her spike-heeled, black shoes.
"How about a good foot massage, sweetheart?" Billy suggested, "Let me pamper those peds."
"Sounds divine, Billy."
He retreated into the master bath and came back moments later with a towel and what looked to be a crystal container of exotic oil of some kind. As he removed the stopper, the room was flooded with the aroma of eucalyptus, sage, patchouli, jasmine and other scents she didn't recognize. He lay her out on the spacious bed vertically, put the towel under her feet, and set out to give her what he'd promised. As soon as his hands made contact with her flesh, she closed her eyes and moaned.
"Oh, Billy. Oh, Billy," she repeated. He applied a small amount to her feet, rubbing the oil between her toes, pulling them gently, sensuously. Although it tickled at first, the oil he applied to her arches and the way that he massaged them transported Sally Ann to a state of nirvana. All the years of dancing had taken their toll on her feet. Often, after class, she'd take a hot bath, but she had never experienced anything like this.
"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Billy said, glancing up at Sally Ann shyly. "Feet are my favorite part of the female body. You must think I'm a complete freak, but feet do it for me like nothing else-especially ones as muscular and well-developed as yours. I especially like to smell a woman's feet and stockings after she's been wearing heels all day. That funky, fetid odor gets my dick hard as a rock."
"Billy, darling, you don't have to explain. Just do it. I can't tell you how good this feels. Now, go a little higher."
Obeying submissively, he worked on her tight, muscular calves.
"I could bounce a quarter off them," he laughed. "I'd love to see you dance some day, Sally Ann. And while you were doing your plies turns, I'd stare at your calves obsessively, imagining my tongue traveling the length of them to that wonderful erogenous place right behind the knee."
Sally Ann was getting into the fantasy. Billy's big hands kneaded her calve muscles deeply with the oil. He reached for her panty line and pulled the lacy garment off of her.
"Mmmmm, lover, take it further," she urged him.
It was all the encouragement Billy needed. Before he applied more oil to Sally Ann's already-moist pussy, he shoved a silk pillow under her buttocks, pried open her legs and dropped his head into her squish.
"AAAAAAEEEEE!" she screamed.
"That's one good thing about living on the top floor," Billy told her. "You can carry on as much at you want; no one will hear." He observed her objectively for a moment. "I fear I may be falling in love with you. I just wanted to get that out, because tonight I want to fuck you and eat you like an entree at a four-star restaurant. I don't want you to feel you have to reciprocate, Sally Ann. You don't have to tell me anything you don't mean just because I'm attracted so very much to you."
And with that, he returned to his cunt-lapping.
Her little blonde muff was dusted with hair, making it amazingly easy for him to lick her insides without getting a mouthful of pubic hair.
"Do you shave, Sally Ann? Your cunt's so, well, almost hairless."
She laughed. "Never had any complaints. Freddy, my boyfriend back in Ohio, used to say I had the mind of a dirty old lady and the pussy of a virgin."
Billy came up for air. "And the aroma.. .I can't describe it, so just let me taste it." As he slurped her labia, she diddled her clit.
"Sally Ann, don't cum yet," Billy pleaded. "Let's take our time. When I'm eating you out, tell me what you like the best."
"Oh, that's easy, Billy," she replied without hesitation. "I love it when you pull my labia apart, lick inside their folds, and then suck on my clit. I mean, really suck! And not just for a few seconds. Men who've truly aroused me see my pussy as sacred, and treat it that way.
"And Billy, just so you know, I get a hell of a lot of pleasure from having my toes sucked as well. In many ways, we were made for each other."
As soon as she mentioned her feet, Billy was on top of them post haste. His tongue sawed between each of her ten toes, not at all minding the corns and calluses she'd acquired from so many years studying ballet. Billy could taste the oil he'd put on her feet, and it intoxicated him. Still, nothing could beat the taste of her cunt, and he worked diligently back up to her nether regions.
"Fuck me with your tongue, baby," she demanded. "Then go way up inside and eat me out. Let my cum saturate your chin. Kiss me passionately, so I can taste the aroma of my cum and the exotic oils. And while you're doing that, let me diddle my little man in the boat."
In all the years he'd lived in New York, Billy-who'd had had his share of a variety of women-had never met anyone as wild as the beautiful blonde stretched out before him. Even those women free-minded enough to understand his taste for feet never seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. Now, however, he'd met his match with this not-so-naive young woman from Ohio.
Billy stood and removed his clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor-the Bill Blass shirt, the Armani tie, the Perry Ellis trousers, the Calvin Klein blazer. Sally Ann watched him remove each article with the awareness that clothes did make the man-at least to a certain degree. But, truth be told, he might as well be wearing torn blue jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and scuffed-up work boots; there was a quality about Billy she found irresistible.
Just as he was pulling down his briefs, Sally Ann motioned for Billy to come to the bed. "Stand in front of me," she instructed. "Grab me by my hair and tell me to 'eat that cock, bitch! Suck it like a lollipop, and when I cum, make me eat every drop.'"
Sally Ann began by putting the cotton boxers-tented out by his erection-in her mouth. Billy thought it an odd sensation: sucking his dick through fabric. But then, as if his cock had a mind of its own, his prick popped out through the fly and her mouth was filled with the tumescent penis she'd so enjoyed on the Amtrak.
"Are you okay, love?" Billy inquired. "Do you like what we're doing?"
She could only nod, her mouth fully occupied with prick. She did her best to deep-throat him, and, after several attempts and urging on Billy's part, she got that fat fucker all the way down.
"Just hold it there like that, Sally Ann," he commanded. Breathe through your nose. Let the cock rest in the back of your throat."
Once he felt she was comfortable with the task at hand, he took her long, blonde mane and used her hair to gently feed her his dick.
"Ohhh, my gosh! That feels terrific! Sally Ann, you've got skills you don't even know about."
After some time, Billy removed his cock with a loud "POP!" and smeared the pre-cum over her lips. The oil, on the bedside table, beckoned, and Billy told his lover to turn over on her back.
"Why?"
"Because now you're gonna get the royal treatment."
"What's that?"
Just as she asked, she felt cool dollops of the fragrant oil upon her backside, from the backs of her thighs to her buttocks and back, and finally the nape of her neck. Billy gently rubbed the oil into Sally Ann's flawless, well-toned skin. She giggled when he began on her thighs; one of his oily fingers slipped into her gash, and the sudden surprise made her laugh.
"This is so much fun," Sally Ann said.
Billy continued to massage the dollops of exotic oil into his lover. He kneaded her buttocks as if he were kneading bread. Sally Ann's cunt glistened and grew a tempting pink as his massage went deeper and deeper.
"Do it again," Sally asked. "Please, slide a finger up my cunt while you're playing with my butt. Tease me. Find my clitty and pinch it. I love that. Even if I cum, we both know I'm a long-laster."
Who was this Pandora Billy had released from her box? Surely, girls from Ohio were not all like Sally Ann. Now, however, was not the time to ask questions. The oil was completely massaged into her legs and buttocks. All that was left was her shoulders and the nape of her neck. He straddled her for that part of the massage, sitting astride her oil-slicked body. As soon as his hands began their task, she groaned joyously.
"Oooooh, this is so much ecstasy. Much too much. I've never felt so relaxed in my life."
"Those words, Sally Ann, were exactly the words I wanted to hear."
And with that, Sally Ann's pliant, oiled ass was suddenly invaded by Billy's colossal cock.
"AAAAAEEEEEE!" she screamed into the pillow, muffling the initial discomfort.
But it was too late, Billy had made his anal penetration; now, there was no turning back.
Billy kissed the back of her neck lovingly. "My precious, precious darling. You don't know how long I've fantasized about fucking you up the ass."
"But it burns," she protested, struggling against him to remove it.
"Please, honey. Try to relax. I'm not going to hurt you. How could I hurt the woman I love? Get used to the feel of my fleshy cock inside your well-oiled ass-hole."
And it was true. Gradually, Sally Ann's discomfort turned into a new, unexpected feeling. Never before had she felt so consumed, so filled with cock.
"Play with your pussy," Billy urged, "especially your clit. Because I won't be able to hold out long. Anal sex is one of my favorite kinds of sex."
Sally began moving her butt, even while Billy's dick remained motionless. He wanted to be completely comfortable after he fucked her and then came.
"Yeah, yeah. Feels great now!" Sally howled, her butt bouncing up and down on the satin pillows.
"Oh, Sally Ann," Billy begged. "Slow down or you're gonna make me shoot. This is the one thing that gets me off like no other."
"Then, let's both cum together!"
She squeezed her well-developed ass cheeks, releasing them, squeezing them-over and over and over.
"Oh, it's cumming!" Billy screamed. "I can't hold back. Are you playing with your clitty? Come on, Sally Ann! Come on!"
Sally Ann sucked on one of her index fingers. She reached around the man buried in her ass and, with the spit-slimed finger, stuck it right up Billy's ass. That's all it took for his inevitable geyser.
They showered together, got all lathered and clean. Both were so tired they collapsed into a heap on the bed and didn't wake up the next morning until around eleven A.M.
"Shit!" Billy said angrily. "And I had so much to get accomplished today."
He saw the slightly saddened look on Sally Ann's face.
"But that doesn't mean I didn't have a night I'll never forget with you, sweetheart," he qualified. "Don't mind me; I'm just preoccupied with my work."
Sally Ann took one of Billy's oversized blue terry cloth robes and started cooking breakfast. He began to protest.
"I don't cook, so God knows what we're getting ourselves into," she warned him. "But it's pretty hard to ruin scrambled eggs and toast."
Billy smiled. Sally Ann was definitely something special, and he hoped New York didn't eat her alive as he'd watched it do to so many young men and women, eyes clouded with Stardust.
They ate in silence and then Sally Ann cleaned up the kitchen, got dressed, and prepared to leave.
"Next time, let's not make it so long, okay?" Billy asked.
"I promise."
The telegram from Western Union was on the coffee table when Sally arrived back at the carriage house.
Am coming to New York next week STOP. Miss you madly STOP. Can I stay with you? STOP Please want me to come STOP. I miss you STOP .
Sally Ann felt her palms grow sweaty. Freddy? Coming to New York? He'd hate ever minute. And where would he sleep? This wasn't even her apartment. She picked up the phone and dialed Freddy's number. It was Sunday. Surely, he'd be home on a Sunday afternoon. But the phone rang and rang incessantly until the message machine picked up:
Hi, this is Freddy. Sorry I missed your call, but if you 'd kindly leave a message-
My God! Freddy. The last person she wanted to see right now. How was she going to tell him? What would she say? She padded to the kitchen, poured herself some mineral water and sat down at the kitchen table to ponder excuses she might use to dissuade him from comming to New York.
A) She'd fallen off a subway platform and could barely walk.
B) Things weren't working out with Deke and Josette; there was no place for him to stay.
C) Between all her dance classes and her job, there weren't enough hours in the day to take time off to show Freddy Manhattan.
Sally Ann hated lying, but she knew that, sooner or later, she was going to have to break things off with Freddy. She picked up the phone again, this time determined to tell him the truth. His mother, with whom he lived, answered.
"Why, Sally Ann, what a pleasant surprise." Freddy's mom, Martha, was warmly enthusiastic. "How are things working out in New York? Is it like that Liza Minnelli movie, New York, New YorkV
Sally laughed dryly in spite of herself. "Not exactly. Can I talk to Frederick?"
"Well, dear, you just missed him. He wanted to see you so badly, he packed his bags this morning and, as we speak, is on a train to see you. I just know the two of you will have a wonderful time together. Have you seen Cats! Freddy really wants to see Cats."
Sally Ann knew that Freddy was, out of Martha's nine children, her favorite; thus, she sometimes seemed overly protective of him. Even when Freddy and Sally Ann were mere teenagers, she'd felt Martha's eyes on her. Is she judging mel Sally Ann would wonder. Does she think I'm not good enough to marry her pride and joy? It was the classic case of a mother's smothering love preventing the young man from getting on with his life.
But over time, Sally Ann managed to get on Martha's good side. Freddy's father had died in a car accident when he was only three, and it was fortunate that Martha's oldest children were old enough to get jobs and bring in some extra income for the family.
As time passed and Sally Ann and Freddy announced their engagement, Sally Ann's family extended itself to Martha. Now, all the work Sally Ann had put into ingratiating herself with her soon-to-be-mother-in-law seemed for naught. When Freddy returned from New York to Ohio with news that the engagement was off, poor Martha would be devastated. God knows what she 'll think of me, she fretted.
Still, this was her life-not Martha's, not Freddy's. Sally Ann cut the conversation short. She had major decisions to make. But, she thought, maybe it's all for the best. It would have come down to this sooner or later anyway.
She was about to hang up the phone when Martha interjected a final concern.
"Sally Ann, please don't let anything happen to him when he gets there."
"Happen?"
"You know what I mean, dear. He's never been out of Ohio. You've always been more adventurous than he has. I just worry, that's all."
Feeling truly crushed, Sally Ann put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and sighed wearily. Then, collecting her thoughts, she replied: "Martha, please try not to worry about Frederick so much. He's a man now. He's twenty-three and can take care of himself."
There was a conspicuously long pause on the other end of the line.
"Is something wrong, Sally Ann?" Martha asked, concern obvious in her voice. "You'd tell me if there was something wrong."
She suspects! Sally Ann was the world's worst liar. Whenever she tried to stretch the truth, it always seemed to snap back and sting her in the face. She felt herself blushing furiously.
"Martha, nothing's wrong. In fact, I can't wait until he gets here. Freddy and I have a lot to discuss." That was an understatement, but at least it was true.
"All right, dear; I believe you," Martha said unconvincingly. "I'm sure your own mother had the same worries about you going to New York." Martha tried to laugh, but Sally Ann thought it sounded bogus.
CHAPTER SIX
The next day, Sunday, Sally Ann didn't have to work at the restaurant, thank God, so rather than go back to the carriage house (where she was almost positive she'd find Freddy waiting for her), she decided to take a dance class. Her only problem was that she didn't have any dancewear with her. She went to a nearby discount store and bought a pair of tights, a loose-fitting top and nothing for her feet. She'd always preferred taking class barefoot.
It was the first class she'd had in New York since she'd arrived, and, since that had been the premise she'd used in Ohio, the weeks that passed without her taking a dance class only increased her guilt. It would be interesting to see just how different New York City dance classes would be from those in Miss Farrell's studio back in Ohio. Sally Ann didn't know anything about Manhattan dance studios, but she'd recalled Josette mentioning one near their home called "Dance to Die For," and called them from a pay phone to see what their schedule was and the price of the classes.
"We have a beginner's ballet class in about forty-five minutes," the voice on the other end informed her. "And after that, it's modern, jazz, tap and folkloric for the rest of the day."
"I'm a ballet student," Sally Ann told her. "I've never been to your studio before, but I'd like to take the beginner's class. Can you tell me your exact address and how much a class costs?"
She quickly wrote down the address. The class was far more expensive than she'd hoped, but, she reasoned, this is New York.
The class was not at all what she'd expected. The studio was small and cramped. Sally Ann felt she hardly had room to move. And, even though it was only a beginner's class, Sally Ann's fear that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the good New York City dancers proved groundless. She was-as any observer could tell-the best student in the class.
When it was over, Sally Ann toweled herself off and was preparing to leave when the instructor, a pretty woman of about twenty-three with short red hair, touched her arm. It was a friendly touch, but Sally Ann, surprised, flinched.
"Oh, I'm sorry if I frightened you. You didn't know this was a beginner's class, did you?"
Sally Ann told her she desperately needed to take a class; it didn't matter to her that it was a beginner's class.
"My name is Vicky. Would you like to go out to a nearby coffee bar? I need some caffeine to rejuvenate me. And the place has terrific homemade pastries."
Normally, Sally Ann would have declined, but she was procrastinating shamelessly about seeing Freddy. "Okay," Sally Ann said.
"My treat," the dance teacher said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sally balked. "You don't even know me."
"But we will get to know each other better," Vicky retorted.
The two women got their iced cappuccinos and shared their histories. It turned out Vicky was from the Midwest, too-Chicago. But a bad relationship and lack of steady employment as a dancer led her to New York.
"I've been fortunate," Vicky told Sally Ann. "I've been in this city about a year now, and between teaching and dancing for Please Plie, I'm able to support myself in my tiny little Village studio with my cat, Isadora. Named after Isadora Duncan, of course."
"I don't mean to sound stupid, Sally Ann said, but what is "Please Plie"?
Vicky explained it was a dance company that got regular bookings in the New York, New Jersey, Connecticut areas. "Our claim to fame is that, while our technique is strictly traditional ballet, we set our dances to really bizarre music with even more weird choreography. like, we have this one number the audience goes crazy for, where the piece starts out with all of us at the ballet barre, as if we were taking class, and then one by one, the dancers break out and do their own thing to music ranging from Nirvana to Hole. The critics hate us, but the audiences love it. So we get booked a lot."
Sally Ann was impressed. Not even her roommate had had such success dancing in a company. "Are you looking for any dancers right now?" she inquired.
"Sorry. Every dancer I know is looking for work right now," Vicky said. "But we're a small company and intend to keep it that way. Just hang in there, Sally Ann. Things will get better."
They 'd better, Sally Ann thought. They can't get much worse.
"Well," Sally Ann said, finishing her beverage, "I guess I'd better get going. I have a friend from out of town coming in."
"You don't sound very excited about it," Vicky noted.
Sally Ann sighed wearily. "It's just a guy I dated back in Ohio. Actually, we're engaged. But I'm not happy with him anymore. I want my freedom. I'm sure you've been in the same position."
There was a long pause. "Sally Ann," Vicky said, "I'm gay. Always have been, always will be. So engagements, dating-all those heterosexual rituals-they're not part of my life. I wish I could help you, but I can't."
Sally Ann was immediately curious. Since her own bisexual encounters with Josette and Miss Farrell, lesbianism intrigued her. Could she be with another woman exclusively? Sally Ann didn't think so. She enjoyed dick too much. Then again, there were always dildos. It was the personalities of so many of the men she'd met that turned her off. They wanted what they wanted when they wanted it. Her thoughts flashed to Freddy, impetuously coming to New York without the consideration of giving her advance notice.
"Is this Mr. Right waiting for you now?"
Vicky asked.
"Yeah. But I'm going out of my way not to go back to my apartment, since he's probably waiting for me there."
"I see. So you're killing time. Look, I'm teaching in a couple of hours, but you'd be more than welcome to 'kill time' at my apartment, Sally Ann. I live just around the corner, on Perry Street, but, like I said, it's a tiny little studio. Are you allergic to cats?"
"Oh, no. I love cats. But, coming from Ohio, it seems cruel to me to keep a pet pent up in some little room all day."
Vicky insisted on paying for the iced cappuccinos, and the two women left the coffee bar. Vicky's place, as she'd said, was indeed right around the corner. It was an old ramshackle walk-up.
"I live on the second floor, thank God," Vicky said. "I can't imagine those poor tenants who have to lug their laundry and groceries up to the sixth floor."
Once inside, Sally Ann couldn't help laughing. "What's so funny?" Vicky demanded, a little indignant.
"I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with your apartment. I love the way you've fixed it up. I was just imagining if I lived in a place like this and Freddy came to visit me here. That would really make him think twice about moving to New York."
Isadora, the tabby, rubbed up against Sally Ann's leg, and she bent down to stroke it.
"Wow, that's amazing. She never comes on to strangers," Vicky said.
Boldly, Sally Ann looked Vicky in the eye. "And you? Do you ever come on to strangers?"
In her reply, Vicky kissed Sally Ann on the lips. Their bodies pressed together-two leanly muscular women dancers-the blonde and the redhead. A futon similar to the one Sally Ann slept on every night in the carriage house, was in the center of room. Otherwise, it was sparsely furnished. For a brief moment, Sally Ann reflected on the extravagant penthouses and townhouses she'd been in with wealthy businessmen in contrast with the tiny abode rented by a woman who lived to dance. Life just wasn't fair.
Vicky broke their kiss. "You seem distracted. Is this something you don't want to continue?"
"Oh, not at all," Sally Ann replied. "I find you very sexy. I'd love to suck your breasts."
"Then let's get down to business," Vicky responded. As she removed her clothes, Sally Ann recalled Miss Farrell, who was an older version of Vicky-red hair, blue eyes, leanly muscled body-and how attracted Sally Ann had been to her. Vicky, naked now, leaned back on the futon. Sally Ann snuggled next to her.
"This feels so good," Sally Ann said. "I'd never have imagined I'd be having sex with my dance instructor."
"Well, that's what keeps life interesting, isn't it?" Vicky said.
"Especially in New York."
Sally Ann's body rolled over so she could do a lip-lock around Vicky's pink nipple. As she sucked it, feeling it harden in her mouth, Vicky ran a hand down Sally Ann's flat stomach until she arrived at the blonde's bush. Her middle finger, then another, felt the warm juices flowing.
"Ahhh," Sally Ann moaned. "Play with my pussy."
Vicky did as she was told. She located Sally Ann's clitoris and diddled it expertly, rolling it around her fingers, flicking at it lightly, then pinching it provocatively.
"Isn't this heaven?" Vicky asked.
Sally Ann was so caught up in the sensation of this lovely lesbian's finger on her pussy that she could only murmur an affirmation. Vicky's lips descended into her student's honey pot, extracting the sweet nectar.
"Ohhhh. More!"
Vicky responded upon command. Her lips locked into a vise-like grip around the pink labia as her amazing long, determined tongue searched for Sally Ann's magic G-spot.
She couldn't help it. No one had ever treated her pussy like this. Sally Ann came, her entire body bouncing on and bucking off of the futon.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed. "Oh, Vicky, I cumming. I'm so sorry. I never get off that quickly."
Vicky laughed. "The pleasure is mine. When you're always with women, you learn little tricks of the trade that straight men and women can't even imagine."
"I'd love to know what they are," Sally Ann said, smiling.
"Well, since we live near each other, and the dance studio's right around the corner, I don't see any reason why that couldn't happen.
"But, let me honest with you, Sally Ann, I'm not interested in being with a woman who just uses me because I'm good sex. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I would like to be, I haven't found the right woman. I guess what I'm saying is, if you choose to remain bisexual, don't come here to talk about your boyfriends. It turns me off."
"Turning you off is the last thing I'd ever want to do," Sally Ann replied.
Vicky kissed her again, deeply, passionately. Sally Ann's blonde mane moved slowly down to the dance teacher's crotch. The smell was intoxicating-partly of sweat, partly of soap. Sally Ann's tongue swept the insides as the redhead groaned.
"Oh my God! Don't stop, Sally Ann. Play with my clit again. Please!"
The blonde found her clit with no problem whatsoever. It was huge; she'd never seen one as large. It looked like a tiny penis, pink and with a little head. Sally Ann found it easy to suck Vicky's clit into her mouth.
"Aaaaahhhhhh!" Vicky screamed in ecstasy. "This is heaven. You really are a good cunt lapper."
Getting better all the time, she thought.
Now, it was Sally Ann's turn for her lips to be locked tightly around Vicky's huge clitoris. She sucked at it equally hard as Vicky had done to her, tasting the heady juices it released.
With her fingers, she spread Vicky's labia lips as far apart as they would go, so she'd have easy access to the treasures within. The cunt aroma drove her wild. As Sally Ann had done a moment before, Vicky, too, began to thrash and buck on the futon.
"I'm cumming! Oh, God, I'm cumming!"
Sally Ann placed her hand under Vicky's ass and stuck a finger up her butt hole for good measure. When she came, Vicky's orgasm was so powerful, she was breathing as if she had just run the 100-yard dash.
"You have potential," Vicky said. "But it's up to you. As I said, I'm not looking for another confused bisexual woman who will ultimately leave me for a man."
"I understand. It's only fair."
They exchanged numbers. "I really hope we can see each other again," Vicky said sincerely. "I don't really know what you're like as a person, but there's a sweetness about you. I can see why this guy you're engaged to doesn't want to give you up. And.. .since he's waiting for you.. . . "
Sally Ann decided to take a shower at home, since she was so close. Her "afternoon delight" encounter made her feel even less excited about seeing Freddy. And she didn't want to fight on Freddy's first evening in the city. She had to be at work tomorrow; her fling with Vicky had exhausted her. If Freddy had any ideas about fucking her tonight, he was in for a big disappointment.
Deliberately, slowly, Sally Ann walked back to the carriage house. She reflected on all the men she'd met while in New York for a short time. Billy, who claimed he loved her and had more money than he knew what to do with. James, with his starlit terrace and Oriental rugs; he was so handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair, so well-groomed, as if he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ. Jean-Claude, owner of one of New York's most fashionable restaurants. But he was so preoccupied with Lilac now, he'd already forgotten her. And then there was Freddy-no real skills, handsome, but not breathtakingly so, and definitely no Einstein. Down-to-earth and dependable, though. That counted for something, Sally Ann reasoned.
Before she knew it, she was standing in front of her apartment. She put the key in the lock and began ascending the steps. He wasn't sitting outside the door, so he must be waiting inside. Deliberately, Sally Ann climbed the steps to the second floor. She wasn't sure what she'd find when she opened the door, but she prayed the man she was engaged to wouldn't be there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dear Diary:
I was shocked. After waiting with bated breath for Freddy to show up, I walk into my apartment, which, at first, seemed strangely empty and quiet. Then, I noticed that the door to Josette's room was closed. I heard muffled sex sounds coming from the room; I knew she wouldn't mind if I walked in-given our past trysts. So I opened the door, and there she and Deke are with Freddy, having one big menage a trois. My conservative fianc', who claimed he'd only had sex with me, was eating out Josette as if it was his Last Supper. And Deke was astride Josette's face, feeding her his dick. I just stood gaping, wondering if and when they were going to notice me, but they were all so caught up in their sexcapade, they were oblivious to everything else.
Finally, I cleared my throat and dropped my dance bag noisily on the floor. Deke got this sheepish look on his face. Freddy stopped licking Josette's pussy, his face covered with her juices. He looked embarrassed, but not that embarrassed.
"We got tired of waiting for you, hon," Josette said. "Poor Freddy was sitting outside the carriage house for almost two hours, wondering where you were, if he had the right address and phone number.. .well, anyway, Deke and I arrived home, and I could tell from that clean-cut, Midwestern look this guy had that it must be Freddy. Poor fellow! Waiting all that time just for you. Well, we got to know each other a little better, as you can see. I hope you 're not angry. We didn't mean any harm."
Sally Ann was not a calculating bitch, but as soon as she saw the three of them fucking like insatiable sex maniacs, she realized it gave her the perfect opportunity to break off her engagement with Freddy. New York City had made her realize Freddy no longer had much to offer her-she told herself, with little conviction, that he wasn't that good of a lay. Anything to help Sally Ann sever her ties with him.
She stepped into the room and abruptly said to Freddy: "You're a son of a bitch. First, you don't even give me a warning that you're coming except for a telegram from Western Union telling me you're on your way to see me. I'm working a full-time job as a hostess and still trying to take dance classes so I can audition and not look like a klutz. Do you have any idea how much time and energy it takes to live in this city? And now, here you are, fucking with my roommates. You certainly make friends fast, Freddy!"
Josette looked crestfallen. "Honey, I didn't think this would upset you so or we'd never.. .I mean, when you and Deke and I-"
Sally Ann cut her off. She didn't want Freddy to know she'd done the same thing she was accusing him of doing now. All she knew was that she wanted out of the relationship with him, and this was the perfect excuse to end it.
"Freddy, we need to talk," Sally Ann said quietly. "There's a coffee shop downstairs on the corner. Get cleaned up and meet me there. I'll be waiting."
Tired from Vicky's dance class and their own sexual encounter, Sally Ann's "act" was convincing. She left the threesome and headed to the coffee shop.
"Well, I really fucked up," Freddy said after his former fiancee had left the apartment.
"At least let's finish what we started," Deke suggested. "Freddy, she's just pissed that you didn't give her more warning that you were coming. It'll all blow over, believe me."
"Yeah," Josette cut in. "Don't take what she said so seriously, hon. Right now, get back to business and keep sucking my clit."
She stuck a cum-coated finger in her cunt and shoved it under Freddy's nose.
"How can you turn an offer like that down?" inquired Deke.
And with that, the three resumed their positions, Josette deep-throating Deke's long dong, Freddy sucking Josette's inflamed clit. Her juices poured into his mouth like honey, and even with Deke's dick in her mouth, her up-thrust hips encouraged Freddy that he was doing exactly the right thing; any moment, she was going to pop and pop fast and furiously.
"Gonna cum, Josie," Deke warned Josette. "You've never given me head like this before, babe. My whole cock's down your gullet. I'm gonna.. . gonna.. . " And then he came, his dick so far down Josette's throat that she hardly had a chance to taste his thick nectar. Now, only Freddy had yet to get off.
"Sorry, I don't think I can cum," he said apologetically. "It's just that Sally Ann means so much to me, and what she said and all.. .I feel like shit-like I really hurt her. And she's waiting for me downstairs. Josette, it has nothing to do with you, really. Gosh, you're a hot fuck, it's just that my head is really confused. You won't be pissed off with me if I can't 'finish the job'?
"Don't be ridiculous, Freddy," Josette soothed. "Go take a cold shower and talk to Sally Ann. You gave me great head; maybe one day I'll get to feel you fuck me, too."
Freddy cleaned up quickly, not wanting to rile Sally Ann even more while she waited for him in the coffee shop. When he walked in, he looked flushed from sex. Sally Ann was sitting in a back booth with a cup of coffee and a Danish. "I was hungry," she explained, "and I didn't know if you'd finished what you'd started with Deke and Josette. I guess you did. You kept me waiting thirty minutes."
Freddy told her he felt so guilty when she "caught him in the act," that she couldn't cum with Josette, and just took a long, cold shower. "Honest, Sally Ann, we stopped having sex when we saw how much it affected you."
"Well, gee, thanks for being so considerate," she said bitterly.
"I just wanted to surprise you, baby. Since you've been gone, I've been so lonely. I thought you'd be happy to see me."
"Not to see you eating out my roommate," Sally Ann hissed. "Look, my life here is nothing like Dayton. I'm already making some important connections with people who I think will be able to help me with my career. In fact, I don't know if I'm going back to Ohio ever again. There simply aren't opportunities like there are here."
"But we'd agreed we were gonna settle down, get a house, have a couple of kids.. . " Freddy looked perplexed. "You've changed, Sally Ann. Just in the few months you've been here, you're a different girl than the girl I knew back home."
"Woman."
"What?'
"Woman, not 'girl.' Freddy you still see me as your high school steady. I'm not a child, and this experience of living in Manhattan has opened my eyes to what I really want to do with my life-and it's not having a little house with a white picket fence and kids under my feet."
"You used to love kids. We talked about someday having a family." The waitress came by to take Freddy's order. "Do you have an Alka Seltzer?" he inquired.
"Are you serious, sweetie? Not on the menu, but I got a couple in my purse-and I'll even give them to you on the house. What would you like to drink them with, plain water?"
"Just a Coke."
Sally Ann was beginning to empathize with Freddy's disappointment. But this was the best way to end it. "I'm sorry Freddy, but you can't stay with me tonight. I sleep on a futon in the main room; it's really only big enough for one, and I don't want to have to ward off your advances all night. Can't you see how tired I am? I need my rest, and this entire scene has left me stressed out and exhausted."
"I don't know where else to go," Freddy said dejectedly. I don't know anything about this city. And Deke and Josette said-"
"I don't care what Deke and Josette said," Sally Ann said, feeling her temper flare."
The waitress arrived with the Coke and the Alka Seltzer. "Hope it helps, sweetie," she said to Freddy. "Remember, things can always get worse."
"Thanks for the words of wisdom."
"Anytime, sweetie. Anytime."
Sally Ann sized her up as a hard-bitten New Yorker. Fortyish. Dyed blonde hair. Is that what she was going to ultimately turn out to be?
She sighed. "Okay, Freddy, you can stay the night. But that's it: the night-one night. Please respect what I'm trying to do with my life, even if you don't understand it."
"Well, I guess I'll be going back to Dayton earlier than I had planned," Freddy said. "And I guess what you're trying to tell me is that we're finished." He looked crushed. Sally Ann suddenly felt a surge of warmth for this man whom she'd dated exclusively from junior high school through her senior year at Evergreen High in Dayton.
"Look, it's getting late," Sally Ann said. "I need to sleep. Let's go back upstairs. If you wanna watch the tube, fine. But I'm going to bed. We're going to be sleeping almost on top of each other, but, Freddy, really, I'm too tired to fuck, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever." He looked really hurt, Sally Ann thought. She knew he still wanted her. Freddy was an attractive man, but she couldn't give in to an impulse. She had to sever the relationship; it wasn't fair to keep Freddy dangling.
They paid the bill and went back to the apartment. Josette and Deke were gone, and there was a note on the futon. "Went to see a movie with Deke. Have a good time. See you in the morning."
Sally Ann undressed quickly. She could still smell Vicky's scent on her, wondered if Freddy would, too. What a day!
Freddy undressed slowly, intentionally, to show off his body. "I've really been spending a lot of time at the gym," he bragged, popping his biceps, which looked like little baseballs, at Sally Ann. She'd always had a weakness for his Adonis-like physique, and she had to admit, he was more buffed now than she'd recalled from the last time she'd seen him.
But Sally Ann was adamant not to give in to her female urges. Nothing would get resolved if they fucked tonight. Finally, Freddy climbed into bed next to her. She was right; there was hardly room for two people to sleep comfortably. In order to fit into the bed, they had to sleep spoon-fashion. Freddy was pressed against Sally Ann's backside.
"Just don't get any ideas," she reminded him.
But it already was too late for Freddy. Sally Ann felt his erection against her ass.
"No, Freddy!"
"I can't help it, baby. I want you so badly. You know how you turn me on. Please, just once more.. .for old times' sake."
Sally Ann didn't reply, feigning sleep. Then, she suddenly felt his cock press against her cunt. She tried to squeeze her ass cheeks together, but he'd already made the initial penetration. Still, she said nothing. She was not going to let him know she still desired his body-and his cock.
Slowly, slowly, Freddy's cock wormed its way in and out. At first, he just plied her with the head. Then, he slipped, inch by inch, the rest of his reamer into her pussy as he felt it moisten.
"Oh, baby, I love fucking you so much," he said, reaching around her and pinching her now-hard nipples. Still, Sally Ann remained inert, determined not to verbalize her attraction to him.
Nonetheless, she involuntarily responded to the thrill of his fat dick up her now-dripping twat. Her ass pushed back to meet his thrusts. Still, she resolutely kept the moans of pleasure from escaping her lips. Freddy was his usual verbal self.
"Gosh, I love to fuck that cunt," he whispered in her ear. "You've got a slit like silk, Sally Ann. It just feels so smooth and hot inside. You have to admit, we always had good fucking sex."
He was searching for a response; she was not going to give him one. It pissed Freddy off that, even if this really was going to be their last night together, she refused to even acknowledge that she, too, was getting off.
He tried to turn her over. Freddy wanted to fuck her from on top, but Sally Ann would not be moved. Have it your own fucking way, then, Freddy thought, and his anger only made him fuck Sally Ann more determinedly. You want to be the bitch, I'll treat you like a bitch!
Freddy felt his climax building. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer, he reached back around and found Sally Ann's G-spot. With his middle finger inserted in her pussy, playing with the notorious G, and his rhythmic thrusting, he knew she'd have to cum with him.
And she did, biting into the pillow to keep from crying out her pleasure. His own climax-which he'd saved just for her, rather than acquiesce to Josette-shook him like an earthquake.
"Oh, I'm cumming, baby. Cumming so hard inside your wet cunt. I'm getting off with you. Your juices and mine all mixed together. Can you believe how good it feels?"
His climax resolved, Freddy abruptly pulled out of the woman he'd once believed would be his wife and the mother of his children. He went into the bathroom. Sally Ann could hear water from the shower running, recalling the many showers she and Freddy once took together.
When he was finished and came out of the bathroom-his dick swinging back and forth victoriously-she quickly got up, intending to shower, as well. She was surprised when Freddy grabbed her by her wrists. "I know you don't want to tell me how much you enjoyed getting fucked by me, but a man can tell when a woman is getting off on his 'technique.' You got off; I got off. That just about says it all. And I don't give a fuck if you won't tell me how good it felt for you. Try as you might, Sally Ann, you won't see me flinch!"
Freddy released his grip.
Furious because she knew he was right, Sally Ann headed toward the bathroom. To her back, Freddy said, "And in case you've wondered, Josette's pussy tastes just as good as yours."
The words were intended to sting, and they did. Sally Ann turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it. The water was almost scalding, and when she stepped out of the bathtub, her skin was pink from the heat. But she wanted no trace of Freddy on her or in her. She came back into the living room, only to find Freddy fast asleep and sprawled across the futon. She elbowed him sharply, but he was far away in dreamland, and Sally Ann ended up having to push his meaty body to the far edge of the futon so she'd have a place to sleep.
But sleep eluded her all night. Sally Ann could not sleep with a man whose body was pressed tightly against hers-a man whom she wanted out of her life for good.
She was still awake when Deke and Josette came back from the movie, but feigned sleep, not wanting to talk to them about Freddy.
The next morning, Sally Ann felt like she'd had a hangover. Without sleep, she was useless. Freddy was still sleeping, but she had to go into the restaurant by ten to set up for the lunch crowd. She left a note for him: "I don't expect to see you here when I get off from work. Don't disappoint me. I wish you the best of luck, Sally Ann."
She knew it was an abrupt way to finalize their many years together, but she didn't want to give
Freddy an inch or she knew he'd take a mile. Obviously, the man wasn't ready to let her go. She didn't know what she'd do if she came home and he was still there; certainly, Josette and Deke didn't seem to mind having Freddy stay there.
Jean-Claude was already at Chez Pierre when she arrived.
"Have a nice weekend?" he inquired absently. "Not very restful."
Jean-Claude looked up from the day's reservation bookings. "Yes, you look a little haggard, if you don't mind me saying so. Anything I can do?"
Sally Ann had an urge to tell him about Freddy, then thought better of it. This was a man-proprietor of one of the best bistros in the city-dating Lilac Veracruz, an actress people paid good money to see at the movies. What would he care about a small town young man she'd once called her fianc'?
"No, but thanks for asking."
It turned out to be an unusually busy day for a Monday, usually Chez Pierre's slowest day of the week. And Sally Ann was so tired, she made several serious mistakes. For example, a gossip columnist, Eudora Pittman, who was a regular patron, fumed when Sally Ann sat her at a table near the door. Sally Ann had forgotten that Eudora always had her table in the rear of the room, the better to observe which celebrities were coming and going. Jean-Claude reprimanded her.
"Get it together, Sally Ann. And I mean get it together now!"
Somehow, she made it through the day and evening dinner crowd. When she got off work, she didn't know what to expect to find in her apartment. Please, God, let Freddy be gone, she prayed. I can't afford to lose this job.
She heard voices coming from the apartment as she ascended the stairs, thinking Freddy was still there. Her heart sank. But when she opened the door, it was only Josette and Deke, laughing at an old I Love Lucy episode.
"Is he.. . ? " she asked tentatively
"Gone like the wind, hon," Josette said. He packed his things shortly after you went to work and got a train back to Dayton. Seemed like such a nice guy. Sorry things didn't work out. Oh, yeah, he said to tell you he'd stay in touch."
The miserable feeling that she'd hurt a man who truly loved her overwhelmed Sally Ann. Had she made the wrong decision? Would she live to regret it? For all the glitz and glamour of New York, Sally Ann knew it was ultimately the simple things in life that really mattered. And now, she'd made it clear to Freddy that his sweet-natured simplicity was not enough to satisfy her.
She began to write in her diary, then gave up. Words escaped the emptiness she suddenly felt. Sally Ann realized she did love Freddy, and had deliberately set out to destroy the man who loved her as well. What kind of person was she turning into?
She slammed the diary closed and crawled onto the futon. Freddy's scent was still in the sheets. She ripped them off. I'll be damned if I lose another night's sleep over that man!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Summer was quickly coming to an end. Sally Ann yearned to be back in Ohio, as one season slowly melted into another, and the autumn leaves left one marveling at nature's bounty. Deep in her heart, however, she was angry that she'd not accomplished in New York City what she'd left Ohio to do-be a dancer. Josette and Deke didn't seem at all surprised when she announced she'd decided to stay in the city for one more season.
"It helps us with the rent, and you're easy on the eyes," Deke told her.
"Yes, darling," Josette agreed, "you are very easy on the eyes. We'll work out a payment plan-and not all of it has to do with money." Josette gave Sally Ann a meaningful wink.
At the end of August, Jean-Claude asked if he could talk to her privately in his office.
"Since you've decided not to return to Ohio after Labor Day, Sally Ann, I am assuming you will need to keep this job."
She nodded her head in agreement, afraid her employer was going to have to let her go.
Jean-Claude put his palms flat on his desk, a gesture that underscored he had something important to tell her. "Sally Ann, when you told me three months ago that you were only looking to work over the summer, I arranged to bring in an experienced hostess after you had to go back to Ohio and leave us. In fact, you know her. She's been working here for a while as a waitress-Angelique."
"Angelique?" Sally Ann was astonished. Although she was politely friendly with the staff at Chez Pierre, she'd never developed anything more than a passing acquaintance with them. New Yorkers were so different from Midwesterners, she thought. Guarded. Even downright unfriendly. But Josette and Miss Farrell both told her something that she now observed as true: Many city dwellers felt misunderstood and alone in the small towns they came from. New York City offered an opportunity for them to pursue career ambitions and love affairs with few restrictions.
But, Angelique? She was from France, and that was probably one of the reasons Jean-Claude had hired her. Yet, she was not personable in the least; in fact, every time Sally Ann had tried to converse with her, Angelique seemed downright brusque. Sally Ann came to the conclusion that Angelique didn't like her, and stopped pursuing trying to be cordial.
"Why are you so surprised?" Jean-Claude inquired. "After all, she's proved herself highly competent as a waitress, she's very attractive, no? And I've asked her to start observing you with the intention that when you returned to Dayton, she could step into your shoes as hostess."
Fighting a swelling feeling of betrayal-which she knew was irrational-Sally Ann nodded in agreement.
"To be honest, Jean-Claude, I just never thought of her as being the friendly type. After all, a hostess should be at least cordial, don't you think?"
Jean-Claude looked Sally Ann straight in her liquid blue eyes. "Not necessarily. The French people, who remain our primary clientele, are not like Americans. As a Francophile, I can say first hand that there is a formality in our temperaments that is not to be confused with indifference. It's the same cultural thing we discussed when I hired you."
As much as she hated to admit it, Sally Ann knew Jean-Claude was right. New York City was, indeed, a melting pot, attracting people of nearly every ethnicity. Angelique, with her tight blonde bun, green cat eyes, and winsome shape would fit the role of the aloof hostess perfectly.
"Well," she said, rising, "I guess there's nothing left to say except thank you very much for the summer job. And I enjoyed our occasional romantic interludes."
"You're a great fuck, Sally Ann," Jean-Claude said, smiling. "And I say that with all due respect. Please sit down. I have some good news that may perk you up before you throw up your hands in despair."
Jean-Claude explained that Lilac and he were planning to marry.
"Congratulations," Sally Ann said, realizing there was little enthusiasm in her voice.
"I'm not finished. The two of us have started up an independent film production company. We've already raised the financing for our first project, kind of an update-not a remake-of the classic movie All About Eve with Bette Davis. There will be a lot of musical numbers in the movie. In fact, the director is auditioning dancers next week. If you're interested, Sally Ann, I could arrange to set up an audition with him-privately, not the standard 'cattle call'. "
For a moment, Sally Ann's heart was in her throat. This is what she'd been longing for, a break into showbiz. "Of course I'm interested," she said. "You know I'd do anything-anything-to get into the movies."
"Anything?"
"Anything," she replied evenly. "I assume his casting couch is waiting."
Jean-Claude laughed. "I have to say, I've never met anyone quite like you, Sally Ann. On the outside, you've got this quiet, wholesome demeanor, that freshly scrubbed girl-next-door look. Yet, your sexual appetite is unquenchable. Lars will like that.. .a lot!"
"Lars?"
"Lars Lissaker, the director. I believe you may even know him from this restaurant. He comes here occasionally: a blond, balding German, fortyish, with a pony tail."
Sally Ann thought hard to remember him. So many Europeans came into Chez Pierre-often bizarrely dressed and groomed-that it was difficult to separate one from the other.
"He's the one who 'discovered' my Lilac," Jean-
Claude told her. "Maybe he can do the same for you. All it will take is a phone call from me to set up the audition. But it has to be this week. As I said, the week after are cattle calls, and you'll be just another pretty face in the crowd."
"Yes, yes, yes! Call now, please, Jean-Claude. I'll make it my number one priority."
Jean-Claude picked up the receiver on his phone. "He'll expect nothing less."
When Sally Ann arrived at Lars's studio the next day, she remembered him immediately. Hostesses do not usually get tips from customers; rather, as was Chez Pierre's policy, the hostess got a percentage of the day's tips. But this imposing man (she estimated him to be at least six feet, four inches tall, with a brawny physique) had slipped her a one hundred dollar bill before he left the restaurant.
"It's just a little 'thank you' for letting me look at you during my dinner," she recalled he'd said in thickly accented German. And, living frugally as was required to meet her Manhattan expenses, she accepted the money readily. Obviously, finances were not a concern for Lars Lissaker. Yes, how could she forget him?
"I'm so glad you could come, Sally Ann," Lars said. "Jean-Claude has told me such good things about you, especially about your performing potential."
Momentarily, Sally Ann was confused. Jean-Claude had never seen her dance. How could he possibly know about her performing potential? But she played along.
"When he told me about this film, especially the part about the musical numbers, I got so excited. And I know Lilac Veracruz from the restaurant. And, of course, it's common knowledge she's seeing Jean-Claude."
Realizing she was rambling a bit, Sally Ann slowed her pace.
"You're nervous," Lars observed. "Is this your first audition?"
"Oh, no," she lied.
"Well, did you bring a resume, a videotape, or something that gives me an idea of what you can do?"
Sally Ann felt her cheeks flush. This is what I get for lying, she thought. She managed to stammer out that Jean-Claude had only told her this was a performance audition. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything like that with me."
Lars smiled, scratching his au courant beard stubble. "Look, I know all about you. From the first time I saw you at Chez Pierre, I knew you were not just a hostess; your carriage is that of a dancer, although you have larger breasts than most of them." Sally Ann gasped in spite of herself. "Does it offend you that I tell you this, Sally Ann?"
Obviously, the casting couch is my first stop, and if I "prove" myself, then, maybe I'll get the audition, she thought. But Sally Ann wasn't dismayed. Lars was not an unattractive man, and though she knew little about him or his work, it would not be difficult to make love with this Viking-like man.
"We don't have much time, I'm afraid," he told her. "Can I kiss you?"
Before she had a chance to answer, his thick lips were on hers. The kiss was so abrupt, Sally Ann immediately tensed up. Then, she slowly allowed pleasure to overtake her. His tongue wormed its way into her mouth. Then, he broke away as her knees began to buckle.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Not at all, Mr. Lissaker. In fact, it was quite pleasurable." She observed a thick tube-like penis running down his left trouser leg.
"Would you like to see it, Sally Ann? Would you like to see my cock?"
"I'd like to suck that thing," she said, surprised at her audacity.
Lars unzipped his trousers, unbuckled his pants and pulled his Ralph Lauren sweater over his head, tossing it in Sally Ann's direction. "Let's get comfortable."
Since time was of the essence, Sally Ann realized her usual tactic of slowly stripping, gradually revealing her lush physique, would not work with Lars. She'd come prepared with her attire, wearing a black one-piece leotard over which she'd slipped on an easy-to-remove skirt. The dance studio, like all dance studios, had floor-to-ceiling mirrors everywhere. When she was nude, she glanced up to see their bodies reflected on all four walls.
Lars was drawn to her breasts like an infant to its mother's. "These are so beautiful, Sally Ann. Perfect-and so tasty." Those were the last words spoken before Lars began to make love to her earnestly, right there on the floor.
Sinking to their knees, the couple entwined in a passionate embrace. For what seemed like a long time for a man in a hurry, Lars played with Sally Ann's tits, flicking at them with his tongue, pinching them gently with his fingers and groaning in ecstasy as he watched the nipples swell and stick straight out.
"Mmmmmm," Sally Ann cried out. "Don't stop. Eat me, Lars. Eat me like you're famished."
He was famished. His kissed and sucked on her neck so hard, she was sure she'd have a telltale hickey. Lars's tongue moved down between her boob globes, which he continued to squeeze.
"My gosh, go for it, Lars," she urged. "Go lower, go deeper. My cunt is all yours!"
He moaned again in his deep, heavily accented German voice. Voices, Sally Ann has noticed, could really enhance sex, especially when one or both partners talked dirty.
Lars lifted her legs straight up and towards her face. Sally Ann wondered if he was also checking her flexibility as a dancer, then put all thoughts of ulterior motives out of her head as she felt that long, thick tongue of his enter her pussy. He licked her labia until it shone invitingly. Her bush was so small, so blonde, and trimmed so neatly, he had no trouble eating her out. His lips covered her cunt as his tongue searched inside to find her clit.
"Ahhhhhhh! Oh, Lars, that's right. Suck my clitty. Suck it as long as you can. I'm cumming. Cumming! Can you taste it?"
But Lars was obviously not a talker during sex; rather, he was fucking her purposefully, and meant business. Sally Ann felt his long, fat schlong sink deep into her gash effortlessly. She was so wet down there, like a faucet that could not be turned off. His cock jackhammered into her, rubbing her clit with every stroke. Now, he'd spread her legs so far apart that they were almost perpendicular to her torso. Yes, she thought, he is testing me, seeing how flexible I can be. Determined not to disappoint him and fail the test, she forgot the momentary discomfort of her legs being stretched farther than they'd been in any dance class. Sally Ann acquiesced to his urgent infatuation with her cunt, and urged him on.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Pound that pussy, darling. Pound it as hard as you want!"
He pulled his cock almost all the way out, then began to fuck her with only its head. His cockhead was like a fat, juicy plum, wider than his cock shaft. She'd seen plenty of penises since coming to Manhattan, but Sally Ann marveled at how different each one was. Lars's was certainly at the top of the list.
"Uh, uh uh!" Lars slammed into her and muttered something in German she didn't understand. But there was no communication barrier when it came to their mutual lust for one another. She looked up at his face, contorted, dripping sweat onto her belly. Sally Ann knew Lars was close to cumming.
"Let it loose," she urged. "C'mon, Lars, shoot that scum into my cunt."
He had wanted to fuck her in the ass, too. Despite a gallant effort to push his peckerhead into her butt hole, Lars shot his cum all over her pussy. He rolled off of her. Both lay staring at the ceiling, trying to come back down to earth.
Now was the moment when Sally Ann would find out the truth about the audition. Exhausted as she was from the quick fuck he'd given her, Sally Ann still wasn't certain if he'd give her a private audition.
"Do you think you're up to showing me what you can do as a dancer?" Lars asked. "Or are you too tired now?"
"Please, sir," Sally Ann pleaded, her feelings shifting from sex passion to her passion to dance. "Please let me show you what I can do as a performer. I've been studying all my life." She laughed lightly. "And you've definitely stretched me out as a warm-up."
"Let's get to it, then."
Lars was back to business as usual. Sally Ann was grateful he was going to follow through with the audition, that she wasn't just another fuck to him.
"Don't put your leotard back on," he instructed her, as he began to dress. "Dance naked for me."
"But I'll need my toe shoes," she reminded him.
"This isn't a ballet, Sally Ann. I'm going to put on a selection from the score, which is more techno-pop than classical. I think you'll like it. Improvise for me. Show me that you're as good a dancer as you are a lover."
The music started slowly and built into a frenzy, a cacophony of drums, bongos, electric and acoustic guitars, synthesizers as well as Third World instruments-zithers and mandolins, for example. Music moved her like nothing else, with the possible exception of sex, and Sally Ann threw herself into the audition. She put away all thoughts of "proving" herself to Lars. As she danced around the studio, her perky, tight tits hardly bouncing, the exhilaration of dancing for the sake of dance (as opposed to dancing for a job) filled her entire being. Her blonde hair, usually kept in a bun when she took a class, was loose, and followed her every move. In short, it was one of the best unprepared dances Lars Lissaker had ever seen. Then, abruptly, he turned the music off.
The expression on his face was unreadable. Sally Ann fretted she'd failed, and looked at the floor, not knowing what to say or do.
"Shooting begins next month here in the city. In the next few weeks, you'll work with the other dancers hired and, of course, the choreographer. What did you think of the snippet of the score I played?"
"I loved it."
"It showed, Ms. Sally Ann Gardner. I've rarely seen a dancer so consumed by the spirit of music. It's a visceral thing. And you danced without the benefit of knowing anything about the choreography. In short, I'd like to use you in the project."
"I'd love to be used," she said, beaming, smiling at the double-entendre.
Lars laughed in his deep, booming German voice. Then, he shifted temperaments again, and was all business. "I assume you don't have an agent or a manager. I'll take care of that. And I assume you don't have a SAG card either. I'll take care of that, too. Right now, however, I've got to meet with Lilac. She's fuming over some script changes." He sighed wearily. "You're going from the frying pan into the fire. Do you know what that means, Sally Ann."
"Not really."
"Well, I don't have time to explain. He looked at his Cartier watch. "Oh, my God, it's almost one. Lilac and I are going to discuss the script changes at Chez Pierre; I'm going to be late and she's going to chew me out."
Sally Ann quickly put on her leotard and skirt. "Thank you so much Lars-I mean, Mr. Lissakerfor the audition."
"And thank you, Sally Ann, especially for the first one. I trust we will keep this confidential. When I see you at Chez Pierre, please don't do or say anything you'll regret."
"My lips are sealed."
"Oh, no they're not," Lars said, looking at her crotch. "In fact, I'd say your lips down there are quite open. Just remember, I'm not talking about those lips.
She was surprised when he gave her a bear hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek.
"This-having sex-will probably not happen again, at least not until we complete our nine-week shooting schedule. Once filming begins, you may be working ten and twelve-hour days. Tomorrow, I want you to turn in your notice to Jean-Claude that you'll be leaving the restaurant at the end of the week." He paused and looked at her with his steely blue eyes. "There are no guarantees. From what I've seen today, you're a fantastic dancer. But I must tell you there is always the chance your musical numbers will wind up on the cutting room floor. Don't expect to become an overnight sensation, Sally Ann. For every Lilac Veracruz there and a hundred other hopefuls who spend their entire lives auditioning and paying their bills by working in menial jobs."
He opened the door for her. "You'll hear from the casting director tomorrow. Give me your phone number."
She reached into her dance bag and quickly jotted it down.
"All I want is a chance to prove myself," she told him. "Just getting this far makes me believe I can make it."
Lars closed the door behind her. Yes, maybe she will. Maybe Sally Ann Gardner has the "It Girl" quality.
Maybe.
CHAPTER NINE
Dear Diary, It's been a while since I have had the chance to get back to these diary entries. My prayers have been answered. For the last ten days, I've been consumed with my dance routines for Lars's movie, tentatively titled Naughty In New York. And what a crash course it's been.
First, I had to meet with the casting director, Larry. He helped me with all the Equity stuff-filling out applications, making phone calls, stretching the truth about my "credentials." I'm really lucky, because so many starving actors just don't get the good gigs because they don't have their Equity cards. And boy, is this a great job! Of course, I did have to put in some "overtime " with Larry, who told me he loves to have a "body lick." What's a body lick? I found out big time!
People in this city have strange fetishes, but I'd never heard of someone getting off just by being licked from head to toe. Of course, there were those special areas he wanted my tongue to concentrate on-his balls, his cock, his ass-hole-and I happily obliged. We were in his office when all this took place, and that element of danger-that anyone could walk in at any time and catch us-just raised the stakes and made everything more exciting.
Back to Naughty in New York: I'm officially the dance captain of the movie, meaning that in all the musical numbers, the choreographer-a sweet gay guy named Emmett-has appointed me head dancer. Anytime I see someone off a count or missing a beat, I put them back on their mark. Emmett says I'm star material waiting to happen.
Lars is his usual no-nonsense self on the set. Since this is my first movie (he hates it when I call Naughty in New York a "movie," reminding me to either use "cinema" or "film"), I'm having to learn a lot. But, being a dancer, I pick up the new stuff quickly and accurately. Despite attempts to be polite with Lars, he's told me that he senses Lilac thinks we 're having this torrid romance. I wouldn't mind if we did, actually, after the fantastic fuck he threw to me at my private "audition." But he hasn't made anymore overtures towards me, despite my flirting. I think Lilac has him pussy-whipped. She must be really good sex.
Lilac Veracruz was having a fit. She'd seen some rushes, or dailies, of Naughty In New York, and believed this newcomer-Sally Ann Gardner-was getting far too much exposure in the musical numbers. She insisted to Lars that he make some crucial cuts, and put more emphasis on her.
"After all," she reminded him curtly, "a lot of my own money is riding on this project. You plucked this young woman out of a restaurant, for Pete's sake. And, if you ask me-"
"No one has," Lars interrupted, realizing what she was going to say next.
"If you ask me," Lilac persisted, "she's not even that good of a dancer."
Lars reached for his silver cigarette case on the night stand. He and Lilac had just finished trying to have sex in his Tribeca loft. At first, he couldn't get hard, no matter what tricks Lilac excellently performed. The yet-to-be superstar gave good head, Lars had to admit, but tonight he was preoccupied with keeping the film on its production schedule, bringing it in on time and not overspending his menial budget.
Finally, he got it up by fantasizing about Sally Ann. Thinking about the great sex they'd had in his studio put the juice back in his balls and the starch back in his prick. He fucked Lilac so hard, the two of them fell off the bed, cumming at the same time all over his imported Belgium rug.
But now the fun was over. As usual, Lilac got what she wanted-a fast fuck-and felt obliged to criticize her lover-director. When she realized Lars was not going to budge, that Sally Ann's dance numbers would not be edited out, she tried another, more subtle, tact. "Lars, darling, no one even knows who Sally Ann Gardner is. She doesn't have one word of dialogue, sweetheart. While, on the other hand, I am an internationally known name. All it's going to take is that really special project to put me over the top, to make me the superstar we both know I am meant to be."
Lars sighed heavily. "Lilac, don't you ever look at yourself during the dailies? You are in almost every scene, front and center. You're going to get more exposure in this project than in anything you've done before. By the way, my love, there's something we have to talk about."
Lilac bristled. She intuited it was not good news, and she was right. "What might that 'something' be?"
Lars explained that during Lilac's big musical numbers, her singing voice was not exactly beguiling. "I've spent hundreds of dollars on voice lessons for you," he reminded the "international star." She abruptly rose from the bed and tightened the belt around her robe.
"I don't want to hear this," she said curtly.
"Well, sorry, sweetheart, but you're going to hear this: I've hired someone with your same speaking voice to dub your songs. She's quite good, and has agreed to accept the money without her name appearing in the film credits."
For Lilac, this revelation was her coup de grace. "How dare you hire anyone without consulting me first!" Her enormous breasts were heaving as she became more and more enraged. She returned to her former, defiant tact. "If you don't get rid of her pronto, there will be no Naughty In New York. In fact, there will be no Lars Lissaker. I'll see to it that you never work again."
"Don't threaten me, Lilac," Lars warned.
"Look at me!" She dropped her robe, examining an undeniably lush body in the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the end of the bed. "People pay to see me, to entertain them."
"Yeah, and before I met you," Lars counter attacked, "people were paying you to sleep with them. Let me remind you that you were nothing but a high-class call girl who got lucky with the right John, a low-budget, soft-porno director. You'd better hope word never gets out about that flick, honey."
It was true. Several years ago, Lilac Veracruz was Mary Fitzgerald, a twenty-eight-year-old aspiring actress from Miami. To make ends meet in New York, she took several temp jobs, but nearly every agency dropped her because, frankly, she was incompetent doing office work or, as she called it, "menial labor."
Mary Fitzgerald's closet rattled with the skeletons of her former life as a short-lived porno "star" and, later, as a prostitute. Those escort agencies were more than willing to arrange "dates" for her with well-to-do businessmen. One of them also happened to have connections in the adult entertainment industry. He pointed out to her that former porno stars like Ginger Lynn, Marilyn Chambers and Traci Lords had all started in adult videos, some of them eventually getting breaks in "legit" films, moving out of porno altogether. The director renamed her Fanny Hole, gave her top billing, and put her face, tits, and ass on the video box for her first excursion into porn: Plug That Hole.
Now, some years and a dye-job later, she was transformed into Lilac Veracruz, a dark-haired thirty-something B-movie queen looking to graduate to bigger and better films.
She'd met Jean-Claude at Chez Pierre. He'd recognized her from a straight-to-video flick called Partners In Crime, in which Lilac played a comely wench who got beheaded by a piano wire halfway through the blood-fest flick. Jean-Claude had only recently opened Chez Pierre; it was suddenly the hot spot to meet the rich and famous. And "meat" her he did!
As with Sally Ann, Jean-Claude ingratiated himself with Lilac, taking her back to his office and screwing the hell out of her on his desktop. What heterosexual male could resist those bouncing boobs ("cosmetically altered," she preferred to call her forty double-D danglers)? Sensing Jean-Claude might be able to help her career, she threw her cunt at him with complete abandon. Right before he pulled his long ramrod out of her soaking-wet "fanny hole," she cooed: "Jean-Claude, darling, we are destined to be together." He shot the biggest load of his life right down her cleavage. Ever since that fateful fuck, she made sure to be his one and only, taking advantage of every "photo opportunity" that came her way.
There was, however, a fly in the ointment. Jean-Claude, himself no monogamist, knew nothing of her torrid affair with Lars Lissaker, believing the budding German director had a strictly business relationship with his "Latina spitfire." Just as Lilac believed he could advance her career, so, too, did the restaurateur believe having Lilac on his arm would get him more media attention. It was the old "you do for me, I do for you" ploy, masquerading as a hot and heavy romance.
"Don't you dare bring up that movie," Lila said, referring to Plug That Hole. "I know you have a copy of the video stashed somewhere. But now I'm brunette and busty; back then, I was just a-"
"Fanny Hole," he laughed cruelly. "Lilac, sooner or later you've got to realize the Big Secret is going to be revealed. You might have siliconed your tits, dyed your hair and learned to enunciate words properly, but there's one telltale sign that's going to give you away."
Still naked in front of the mirror, Lilac sank back down on Lars's flaming red satin sheets and sighed wearily. That damned butterfly tattooed around my left ankle! she thought. Even before the tits and the hair and the voice lessons, I should have had it removed.
"Contrary to popular belief," Lars continued, "butterflies aren't free. Your ass is grass, sweetie, if that tattoo ever comes out in the press. And I'm just the guy you should be worried about leaking that tasty morsel of info to the press."
For the first time in her life, Lilac realized she'd met her match in Lars Lissaker. If she was threatening to pull out of the picture, he was going to take her down with him. It was a classic "catch-22" situation. Thus, she handled the threat with a tried-and-true response.
"I'm horny again," Lilac lamented, changing the subject with a cute pout. "Let's fuck!"
The heat of their confrontation had fired Lars up again. His cock fumed to fuck this bitch. She loved playing rough, he'd discovered. Whether it be a business deal or sex, Lilac Veracruz usually found a means to get her way. When talking failed, fucking prevailed. That well-used pussy was at its prime.
Lars pulled her to him and pushed her down on her knees. "Suck my cock," he demanded. "Eat my seed."
He positioned Lilac so he could both look down at her sucking his already pussy-juice-slicked dick and catch her reflection in the mirror at the same time. He shoved his cock all the way down her throat.
"Don't take it out of your mouth. You love sucking my big, fat sausage, don'tcha, Lilac?"
All the actress could do was mumble an affirmation. Lars's cock was deeply buried down her throat.
"Look up at me while you're sucking," he said, watching her go to work in the mirror. Her ass looked mighty inviting, that fabulous fat fanny deserving of its former pseudonym. Yes, indeed, he was going to take her "fanny hole" next.
"Get up and bend over the bed, cunt!"
Wobbling, slightly off balance, Lilac did as instructed. Her ass was just at the right point where it could be easily penetrated. Lars reached into the night stand drawer, extracting a tube of clear jelly lubrication. He coated it over an index finger and slid it up her Hershey Highway. If there was anything Mary Fitzgerald-aka Fanny Hole, aka Lilac Veracruz-liked the most, it was anal sex.
"Oh, Lars," she groaned, pushing her plump ass back to devour more of his finger, "you know what I need!"
He inserted a second, lubricated finger. He unrolled a condom with his free hand, and put it on his steely hard dick. "Yeah, Ms. Hole, I know exactly what you need."
Lilac tensed as his corona penetrated her ass-hole, but she knew with this special kind of pleasure, there was always a little pain-pain was part of the pleasure. Then, as Lars's cock maneuvered itself further into her rectum, she began to relax until there was nothing but pure pleasure. Nasty and hot!
Lars sensed Lilac was yielding to him. "Does Jean-Claude fuck you like this, cunt?" he demanded, reaching in front of her to pluck the already-stiff nips. "Does he fuck your ass like I do? Does he make you cum better than I can?"
But Lilac was in no mood to make comparisons. Lost in lust, she had become Lars's sex slave, if only for this moment. He slapped her ass. "Does he?"
"Shut up and fuck my ass!"
He slapped her ass again. "Don't tell me what to do. And when I butt fuck you, my name is not 'Lars', it's 'sir.' Don't forget it."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
Despite her tendency to be a bitch, when it came to anal sex, Lilac was putty in any man's hands.
The fucking grew more intense. Lars positioned his anal slave with one leg on the bed and one off. That stance gave him better access to her ass. He diddled her clit, increasing her agonizing pleasure. Lilac's cunt was already a font of cum, so wet he considered sliding the dildo he sometimes used on her up that pussy. But he was having too much fun fucking her like this. Their reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror showed two people caught up in total rapture.
Lilac tossed her brunette mane and, over her shoulder, warned Lars she was close to "a big, bad cum, baby." Strangely, he felt he could fuck her like this for hours. And he knew down deep it was because he believed she needed to be taught a lesson in respect.
"Lilac, are you going to continue to threaten me?" He stopped his jackhammering, but left his fully erect cock deep inside her ass.
"Huh, what?"
He even slapped her ass-again, gently but firmly, bringing her back to reality. "If you ever, ever threaten me again, I will take that infamous video to every tabloid in America. Tell me, Lilac, would you like that, huh? We both know the tabloids certainly would."
She resented being so abruptly taken out of her anal reverie, but was willing to agree to anything so long as Lars would finish what he'd started. "Yes, yes, I'll do anything you want, darling." Her ass rotated around his cock. Now, his dick was ready to cum. The victory was his to savor.
Lars spread Lilac's legs further and finished the fuck.
"Oh, baby," she squealed. "My ass is yours. I'm cumming, Lars. Oh, honey, play with my clit! Feel that juice cumming!"
But Lars was enjoying his own cum too much to steer her man-in-the-boat. He blasted his load into the condom, feeling the delicious sensation of his own semen filling the tip, coating his cock. He collapsed on top of Lilac, sending both of them onto the crimson satin sheets of his bed.
For a brief moment, they lay side by side, in each other's arms.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," Lilac said.
"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Lars replied.
These were the inevitable post-coital apologies they always made. Yet, invariably, the promises never lasted, and Lars knew things on the set between them would only get worse. Something had to be done about Lilac Veracruz.
When Sally Ann saw her first dailies, she was overjoyed.
"That's really me," she enthused.
"Yes, Sally Ann, it's really you," Emmett, the choreographer, laughed, enjoying his dance captain's response. Because Emmett was gay, there was no sexual tension between them; it made doing good work that much easier for Sally Ann.
"Not everyone looks better on film than in person," Emmett told her. "But, I have to say, you look stunning. Can you act?"
Sally Ann was momentarily taken aback. For her, dancing was acting, just without words. "What do you mean?"
"C'mon, don't tell me you're that naive," Emmett said, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Have you ever done any non-dance work-work with dialogue,"
"No," she admitted glumly.
"Do you sing?"
"I've been told I have a nice voice."
"That's not what I'm asking." Emmett was a former "triple threat" performer some years ago, when he was in his prime: a singer-dancer-actor nominated for a Tony award. But in his vast stage experience, both as a dancer and as a choreographer, he'd seen hundreds of dancers who, while competent with movement, neither sang nor acted well enough to get out of the chorus. Sally Ann had become something of a prodigy to him. He'd taken this inexperienced young woman from the Midwest and made her look special on film. Even Lars, critical to the extreme, was taken by her ability to pick up dance combinations with a snap of the fingers.
"Well," Sally Ann replied sadly, "you know I'm new at all this. I have to admit I haven't had formal training as an actress or as a singer."
"Then get it, dear." Emmett reached into his dance bag and scribbled down two phone numbers: one for a well-known acting coach; the second, for a voice teacher. "Call them right away and tell them I recommended you to them. Otherwise, you don't have chance in hell of getting penciled into their schedules.
"These people, Sally Ann, are the best in the business. And don't worry about how much it will cost. Lars and I will take care of it. We believe in you."
Sally Ann gave Emmett a quick peck on the cheek. "You've both been so good to me. I don't know what to say. 'Thank you' hardly seems enough." Too bad Emmett's gay, she thought. Then, I could really show him my appreciation.
As if reading her mind, Emmett gave her a head-to-toe evaluation. "Just because I sleep with men doesn't mean I can't appreciate a beautiful, talented woman." It was an ambiguous statement, and Sally Ann took it at face value.
"Well, then, Emmett, always remember I'm at your disposal-in any capacity."
Sally Ann gave him a captivating smile and strode to the door. Emmett watched her firm buttocks sashay. He was against mixing business with pleasure, but it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman he was attracted to enough to fuck.
Emmett believed people were neither one hundred percent hetero-or homosexual, but that, for whatever reasons, some were attracted more to their own sex. He was one of those people.
This newcomer from Dayton reminded him of a chorus girl he knew when he first came to New York, after he landed his first Broadway gig. Her name was Moira, and they were dancing in the same show, in some of the same musical numbers. She, like Sally Ann, was blonde, blue-eyed, and had the same winning, unflappable disposition.
Although Emmett was already involved with a man at the time (who just happened to be the director of the show), he and Moira became fast friends. At the opening night party, when the first-night reviews began coming in, and it was determined that their show was a hit, Emmett and Moira had a little too much champagne to drink. His director friend, caught up in the razzle dazzle of the paparazzi, never noticed when Emmett and the bewitching Moira left the party.
Neither of them knew where they were going after they'd jumped into a cab. "Urn, Twenty-Third and Third," Moira told the driver-giving him the address to her apartment.
"Look, Moira," the tipsy Emmett told her, "you know I'm gay. You know that-"
"I know that anything is possible, and right now we have every reason to explore those intriguing possibilities." Then, Moira kissed him deeply on his mouth. It was a lingering, loving kiss he'd never forgotten.
But the rest of the night was a blur; he didn't even know if he and Moira actually had gotten it on. She assured him they had, and pulled a used condom from the trash can the following morning, waving it front of him. "And you enjoyed every minute of it, baby."
Unfortunately, Moira, his last female "conquest," met and married a Hollywood producer who'd picked her out of the chorus line. When their show closed a year later, he never saw her again, but cherished the memory of that one special night.
Now, so many years later, here he was remembering that night with Moira, recalling long-buried thoughts about making it with a woman, a woman named Sally Ann Gardner.. . .
CHAPTER TEN
As Naughty In New York began to take shape, nearing completion of its shooting schedule, Sally Ann's enthusiasms began to wane. Yes, she very much wanted to be in the entertainment industry. Yes, her first love was dancing, and dancers were a dime a dozen in New York City. And yes, she'd been very, very lucky in the short time she'd been in Manhattan, making the essential connections she needed to see her dream through.
It's like that old saying, "You can have everything you want, just not at the same time," she thought as she was leaving the set one day, having worked thirteen hours with only an occasional "snack break." The truth was: She missed Ohio, her family, and-she had to admit-Freddy. Since his well-intentioned but poorly timed arrival in New York to surprise her, and their subsequent falling out, Sally Ann had not heard from her high school sweetheart and former fianc'. Occasionally, when she talked to her parents, they'd mention that he was doing fine, which only made her feel worse. How dare Freddy be "fine " when she was feeling miserable!
Yet, Sally Ann Gardner was getting everything she'd traveled to New York for. Despite the never-ending tantrums of Lilac Veracruz-often directed at Sally Ann-Lars, Emmett and the film crew in general had made it clear they were more than satisfied with her work. And though she had no dialogue, no songs, Sally Ann did have plenty of screen time dancing in the musical numbers.
"Just remember, honey," Emmett cautioned, "all you're seeing right now are the dailies. And while I don't think all the hard work you've put into the dances is going to wind up on the cutting room floor, editing is something you don't know anything about." He told her they'd shot over a thousand feet of film, and that, inevitably, there were would be many edits of the musical numbers. "But," he consoled her upon seeing her look of despondence, "since you're in every musical number, at least you'll be seen. We just don't know how long you'll be seen. There are so many factors that have to be taken into consideration."
Sally Ann knew one of the "considerations" was Lilac Veracruz. She'd made it clear during day-end screenings of the dailies that she was the star. Things between Lars and Lilac were tense at best-especially after he'd brought in a replacement to dub her singing. And Lars, so consumed with his film project, always managed to give Sally Ann a few words of encouragement each day after seeing her work. But, with Lilac, he was conspicuously quiet. When they fought on the set, the tension affected everyone and slowed down the shooting schedule.
"Sally Ann, I'd like to have a talk with you, just you and me, girl-to-girl," Lilac told her one day. The invitation came from out of the blue, and Sally Ann immediately suspected ulterior motives. Why would this woman, who'd made it clear from day one that she felt threatened by Sally Ann, want to talk to her-especially now that Naughty In New York was almost finished? "Come to my pied a terre at around nine," Lilac instructed. "Jean-Claude may be there-we're living together now, in case you don't already know-but he was your former boss and, I gather, part-time paramour. So, we'll just have a nice late-night dinner, okay?"
Of course, Sally Ann knew that Jean-Claude would not be home; it was a Friday evening, one of the busiest days of the week at Chez Pierre. Again, Sally Ann felt Lilac was baiting her, suspecting, most-likely, that she'd fucked Jean-Claude. Now, this bitchy opportunist was using him to entice Sally Ann to come over to their apartment.
Later that day, Sally Ann confided to Emmett about Lilac's invitation.
"Be careful, Sally Ann," he warned. "We both know that woman's not to be trusted. God knows what she has planned for you."
"She told me Jean-Claude might be there, too. I mean, how bad could it be? Jean-Claude's the one who helped me get my big break."
Emmett sighed. "Girl, in the immortal words of Judy Garland: 'I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.' Stop giving people the benefit of the doubt, Sally Ann-especially vipers like Lilac Veracruz. You wanna believe she needs a dinner companion, go ahead. I know you're from Ohio, but, don't you see, she perceives you as just another gullible Midwesterner to manipulate."
"What do you think she wants of me?" Sally Ann asked, worried.
"I have no idea, but you can bet Lars knows nothing about her plans."
"Maybe I should talk to him about it," she suggested. Emmett shook his head.
"That's the last thing I'd do. Can't you see? He's frantic trying to bring the film in under budget and on time, having to put up with Lilac's tyrannical outbursts every day. No, Sally Ann, there's no need to pull Lars into this mundane little matter. All I'm saying is use your head."
Thinking back on the times she'd "used" her body, Sally Ann knew that this time, Emmett's advice was on the mark. She also realized, however, that if she refused to see Lilac on her own turf, the sultry star could make things very difficult for her. I'm just going out of curiosity, Sally Ann told herself. I'll tell Lilac I'm bushed and can't stay for dinner. That way, she'll have to get to the point right away.
When Sally Ann stepped out of the taxi at Lilac and Jean-Claude's "pied a terre" on West Fifty-Seventh Street-just down the block from Chez Pierre-the doorman greeted her effusively.
"Oh, Miss Gardner, I hear you're going to be a star after this movie comes out," the fifty-ish uniformed man told her. Having never met him before or been in this building, Sally Ann was quite taken aback. "Miss Veracruz tells me you are going to be a big, big star, just like she is."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm only a dancer in the movie. Certainly, I'm not going to be a star. Everyone knows, Lilac is the star."
As she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse, the doorman looked at her appraisingly.
"No, no, madame, I think Miss Veracruz is right. You look like a star."
The door closed before Sally Ann had a chance to thank him for the compliment. Actually, she had made a special effort to look elegant for her dinner date with the rapacious Lilac. Her blonde hair was swept up into a stylish pompadour-like bun, with tendrils of curls framing her face. She'd seen Ivana Trump's coif, and tried to imitate it. Sally Ann had borrowed one of Josette's best dresses, an expensive and very short black Calvin Klein number that revealed an extensive amount of leg and a provocative amount of cleavage.
Why am I so concerned about how I look? she asked herself as she slipped into the Calvin Klein. And, more importantly, why am I wearing something so revealing?
Jean-Claude and Lilac's pied a terre consumed the entire top floor of the building. She was not surprised. Chez Pierre was the hottest place to mingle with the stars in Manhattan. And Lilac, while not yet a superstar, earned a handsome six-figures per picture. Between the two of them, Jean-Claude and Lilac's joint income, she estimated, must be seven figures.
"Darling," Lilac gushed, opening the door, "don't you look ravishing tonight?"
The star herself was dressed in a champagne-colored silk pajama ensemble that Sally Ann thought was a bit too informal for dinner. Lilac pecked her on the cheek and, taking Sally Ann by the hand, led her into the expansive living room.
Sally Ann, of course, by now was used to seeing such conspicuous consumption-James's lavishly decorated penthouse and Lars's fashionably understated Tribecca loft came to mind. But this place had all the others beaten hands down. A chandelier glistened as the room's centerpiece. Overstuffed sofas and chairs of expensive fabrics and varying patterns gave the room an understated but undeniably posh appearance. Lilac laughed as she observed her guest taking in the wraparound view of Manhattan.
"Guess you don't have views like this back in Indiana," Lilac queried.
"Ohio. I'm from Ohio," Sally Ann corrected.
"Of course you are. Forgive the faux paus, dear. I've had such an exhausting day, what with Lars trying to bring the film in ahead of schedule. We'd like to at least get it edited and sent out to some film festivals as soon as possible. Early good word-of-mouth, and especially an award or two, will help us get a good distributor for it." She waved her hands dismissively. "But I'm sure you know all about how the film business works."
"Actually, I'm kind of learning as I go along," Sally Ann admitted. "Where's Jean-Claude?"
"Darling, he said to give you his regards, but he couldn't get away from the restaurant tonight. Some kind of private party for foreign diplomats from the United Nations."
"How exciting!"
"Exciting? God, I'd be bored out of my skull," Lilac said. "Obviously you've never met the men who rule the world. We think they're so smart, so sophisticated. Truth is, all they want is a good piece of pussy, just like every other Joe Blow."
Sally Ann was stunned at Lilac's abrupt crudeness, and it showed on her face.
"Have I offended you, dear?" Lilac queried, pouring them both a glass of imported hazelnut liqueur. As she passed the small fluted glass to Sally Ann, Lilac informed her that, "The Dutch, who make this lovely elixir, claim it's an aphrodisiac. From my own past experience with it, I think they're right." She clinked glasses with Sally Ann. "Well, here's to Naughty In New York. Here's to your budding career."
"And yours as well," Sally Ann added quickly. Both women downed their drinks. Sally thought its hazelnut fragrance hid a slight bitterness. She also thought, in terms of etiquette, that drinking a liqueur like this was something done after dinner.
"Sit down, dear. Let me attend to dinner. Jean-Claude graciously has catered quite a spread for us. Do you like foie gras?"
Sally Ann nodded, having no idea what it was. Her head was beginning to swim. She felt a bit queasy. "I think I have to use your bathroom," she said, attempting to rise and feeling her knees buckle. Oh my God, Lilac's poisoned me! was all Sally Ann recalled thinking before passing out stone cold on one of the sofas.
When she awoke, Sally Ann was startled to see her reflection on the mirrored bedroom ceiling. Silk Hermes scarves had been tied to the bed's four posters, so that she was spread naked, completely vulnerable. Still groggy, she closed her eyes and heard a faint humming noise from the corner of the room. She looked up into the mirror again and saw a tripod with a camcorder attached to it. "Lilac," she called out drowsily. "Lilac, what's going on?"
Lilac strode into the room with a person-a man, Sally Ann assumed-dressed in leather from top to bottom. Even his head was covered with a hood with a zipper over the mouth. Lilac called him "Garth."
"Scared, dear?" Lilac asked. She dropped a hand into her silk lounging pajamas and began playing with herself, enjoying Sally Ann's predicament.
"Please," Sally Ann pleaded. "Don't hurt me."
"Hurt you?" Lilac seemed genuinely surprised at the remark. "Why on earth would I want to hurt you? No, no, my lovely Sally Ann, tonight we're here to give you pleasure like nothing you've had before. And, just for posterity's sake, I'm capturing it all on video. That's one of the perks about being in the film business-access to the equipment."
Lilac removed her clothing. Despite her fears, Sally Ann could not help noticing Lilac's pulchritude, the silicone-succulent, balloon-like tits, the nest of finely trimmed pubic hair, the taut tummy and the full-rounded buttocks immortalized in Plug That Hole. The woman was, to be blunt, a prime piece of ass. Trussed up with silk scarves, afraid for her very life, Sally Ann Gardner had to admit that the nemesis standing behind the camcorder was very easy on the eyes. Sally Ann wondered if Lilac was going to make an appearance in the video.
As if reading her mind, Lilac briefly explained her purpose. "Sally Ann, dear, this is just a little home movie or, if you prefer, a video clip, like the 'legit' one Lars would have asked you to do for your audition if he hadn't fucked you first. Let's face it, Sally Ann, you two share a certain chemistry, and as much as you've tried to hide it, hiding it only makes it more obvious." She motioned for Garth to move to the bed. He did as he was told. "Play with her tits," Lilac commanded.
"Anyway, to get on with it-and this has nothing to do with you personally, honey-I don't care who Lars fucks. But I do care about the quality of my work and with whom I work. Anyone can see that Lars has his eyes on you, not just as a pretty little starlet, but as someone he can groom, transform into an actress. He sees himself as a Svengali of sorts, and you're his next project."
Lilac practically spat out the word, as if it was the name of an incurable disease. Garth, his hands gloved in leather, was expertly rubbing Sally Ann's areolae, then lightly pinching her nipples. Despite herself, Sally Ann moaned, fighting against the restrictive silk scarves.
"Okay, enough tit play," Lilac said, the camera still aimed squarely at Sally Ann and Garth on the bed. "Put some fingers in her pussy." Again, the obedient "slave," Garth diddled Sally Ann's nether region, inserting an index, then, a middle finger into her cuntal depths.
"Oooh," Sally Ann gasped, responding to the sudden invasion. She stole a glance at Lilac who, herself, was engaged in masturbation as she kept one hand firmly on the camera.
"Now, darling, I suppose you're wondering why I've put you in this unflattering position. Let's just say I've been driven to an extreme measure. Lars has a bootleg copy of a certain video I was featured in a long time ago, a video where I'm in compromising positions. Do I make myself clear?"
Sally Ann nodded wearily. "So this is your way of getting back at him-through me?" Garth's fingers continually stroked her clit. Lilac could see that his gloved fingers were wet with her cunny dew.
"Hold up your fingers, the ones in her pussy," Lilac commanded Garth. "Let's make sure the viewer sees she's enjoying this. So, getting back to the subject, Sally Ann, if Lars refuses to make the cuts I want, if he threatens to 'expose' me with that old video, I've got my own weapon."
"You make it sound like a war," Sally Ann replied. "And what about me? Doesn't it matter to you that whatever career I might have in the future could be ruined by what you're filming?"
"Oh, you really are naive, Sally Ann. Of course, I realize that."
Sally Ann's mind raced desperately, hoping to reach a compromise with Lilac. "Look, Lilac, I could talk to Lars myself about this. Tell him I'm not interested in acting and dancing anymore. Say that I've decided to go back to Dayton. I'll do anything you ask, but this. What if my family sees it? I'd die of shame."
"Sorry, darling. I appreciate your willingness to help, but, don't you see, you're partly to blame for this entire set-up. After all, if you wouldn't have fucked Lars at the 'audition,' he'd never have cast you."
"So you say."
"Yes, that's what I say." Lilac motioned for Garth to move out of the picture frame. "Get the dildo," she told him.
Sally Ann gasped. "Dildo? Please, Lilac, stop this vendetta before it goes too far. If you have a shred of decency-"
But it was too late. Garth reappeared holding an enormously long, fat fake cock. A crank at its bottom permitted the rubber device to bend as the person holding it rotated it.
Garth bent down to insert the dildo. In a near-whisper, he told her, "Everything's going to be okay, Sally Ann. I've got things under control." The voice was strangely familiar. Where had she heard it before? Garth's words were of little consolation to her, however; the camcorder humming away and Lilac playing with her pussy caught Sally Ann's every move and gesture on the bed.
"First, just stick the head in," Lilac requested. "Go on, do it, slave!" Garth's agility was made evident as he ever-so-gently massaged Sally Ann's honey hole, making sure she was cumming enough to allow an easy penetration. The dildo's corona slipped into her depths with a popping sound. Sally Ann moaned.
"See, dear, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lilac was relishing the moment, her fingers pumping her pussy as her voyeurism increased. "Now, Garth, push it in deeper, but slowly. I want to see every lustful look on her face so all of America can see how much Miss Sally Ann Gardner-likes boy toys and girl toys."
Sally Ann had never felt her pussy this full before. The giant fake cock stretched her labia to its limit, but, just as Garth had hoped, she was cumming enough to provide lubrication, making insertion easier.
"Ahhhh. Ohhhh. Ummm," Sally Ann gurgled as she struggled against her restraints. Obviously, she was getting off with the sex toy up her blonde twat. As it went deeper, deeper, she experienced sensations she'd never had with a real or fake cock before. In spite of herself, Sally Ann was not a good enough actress to fake distress. The fact was, she was hornier than she'd ever been.
"Okay, let's go all the way with it now, Garth. Really pump her pussy with the dildo." Lilac, caught in the grip her own ardor, backed into the wall to steady herself. Sally Ann was really arousing her. But Lilac had a feeling the young woman would object to her next order.
"Garth, pull it out. Now!"
Garth did as Lilac bid him to do. The dildo was abruptly removed with a loud, wet sucking sound as he pulled it out of Sally Ann's hole.
"Now, slave, stick it up her ass!"
Oh, no! Sally Ann thought. There's no way I'll be able to take that up my ass. Please, God, not this!
Garth extracted a tube of KY and generously lubed up the dildo, already slick from Sally Ann's joy juice.
"Please," Sally Ann pleaded, "don't do this. I can't take it. You already have enough videotape to ruin me. Enough is enough. I surrender!"
But Garth was already on his way. He played with Sally Ann's budding clit with one finger as the sticky dildo searched for her little pucker hole. And when Garth found it, he began rubbing the dildo's head over her ass-hole. Again, almost inaudibly, he whispered to her so that Lilac would not hear. "Sally Ann, just pretend to get off on this. I'm not going to butt fuck you with it, but we have to make it look like I'm fucking you up the ass."
Bewildered, Sally Ann did as Garth instructed. Obviously, and perplexidly, he was on her side. Where had she heard that voice? Because of Sally Ann's spread-eagled position, Garth could slide the dildo between her butt cheeks, making it appear that it was inside the foxy blonde's ass when, in fact, it was only gently rubbing her ass-hole.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lilac laughed coarsely. "You really are a little slut, aren't you, Miss Gardner? And now, I've plugged your hole like Lars saw mine plugged in that awful porno film I did so long ago.
"Well, I think it's a wrap, Garth. We've got more than enough footage. Pull the dildo out, hold it up to the camera, that's it. Now, I'll move in for a close-up of her face. Sally Ann's all-fucked-out look says it all."
Lilac, her one hand dripping with her pussy juice, the other on the tripod, ordered Garth to untie her willing "victim." The restraints, being silk, hadn't left any telltale marks on Sally Ann's wrists and ankles, for which she was grateful. And the grogginess she'd experienced at the beginning of Lilac's little "session" had worn off. Now, Sally Ann was acutely aware of her surroundings. And, at that moment, she remembered to whom "Garth's" voice belonged.
As if reading her mind, the leather-bound stud unzipped his black hood and pulled it off.
"Emmett!" Sally Ann cried out.
"What are you doing?" Lilac exploded. "We agreed not to reveal you to her," Lilac, her face apoplectic with anger, screamed at Emmett.
"Emmett, why?" Sally Ann asked. "I thought you liked me. I thought you really cared about me."
"Sweetheart, I do. That's why when Lilac offered to pay me a handsome figure to help her out with this elaborate extortion scheme, I agreed."
He turned to Lilac. "Sorry, babe, blackmail's not my forte. And if you would have bothered to check the camcorder before you arranged this charade, you would have discovered that I removed the tape. I'm afraid all you'll ever have to remember this evening are memories." He laughed heartily, enjoying the look of defeat on her face.
Lilac desperately opened the camcorder. It was true! Empty!
"You son of a bitch! I'll make sure you pay for this, Emmett! I have friends who could make you history."
"Yeah, yeah." Emmett waved his hands dismissively. He was used to Lilac's threats. "Baby, what goes around, comes around. It's up to you. Shall I tell Lars what you've done here tonight? Or maybe Jean-Claude, since, after all, it's his bed?" From the back pocket of Emmett's tight leather pants, he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. "I've drawn up some, let's call them 'terms of agreement', " he said. "Look it over, Lilac, and sign it at the X at the bottom. Basically, you're merely agreeing to see Naughty In New York to its full completion, without intervening any more-that includes demanding certain edits. And you are definitely not to pull anything like this again with any of the other cast members you feel threatened by. Understand?"
Lilac Veracruz skimmed over the document. "This is ridiculous. My God, you're only the choreographer. You have no power."
"Perhaps. But I do have a witness. Right, Sally Ann?"
Sally Ann nodded. "Look at it this way, Lilac. I'm not out to 'get you.' But the lengths you went to tonight to get me are inexcusable-and illegal. like Emmett says, we could make things very difficult for you if, for example, I told Jean-Claude or, especially, Lars about it."
"No one ever has to see this paper-this signed consent," added Lars, "unless you start playing these cruel games again. Somewhere down deep, Lilac, I'm convinced you still have a shred of human decency." A confused expression crossed his face; Emmett knit his brow. "Then again, I could be wrong. You're not the kind of woman any man-or woman-should give the benefit of a doubt to."
"The press would believe me before they'd ever believe you two," Lilac steamed. She pulled her imagine silk ensemble back onto her sweaty body. Her makeup running, her hair bedraggled, Sally Ann thought she looked ten years older than she was.
"It's your call, Lilac," Emmett said, gently stroking Sally Ann's head. "You've put this girl through enough tonight."
"Admit it," spat Lilac, hurriedly signing the paper and tossing it back at Emmett, "you liked every minute of it, Sally Ann."
"Guess you'll never know. Emmett, where are my clothes?"
Leaving Lilac's swanky pied a terre, Sally Ann and Emmett shared a cab ride downtown.
"I really was scared," Sally Ann admitted.
"I knew you would be," Emmett replied. "That's why, when Lilac baited me to do this, I realized I might actually be of some help."
Just out of curiosity, Sally Ann asked Emmett a question that was lurking in the back of your mind. "Did you take the money Lilac offered you?"
"She was going to pay me after this shindig," he hold her. "But, for me, the money was never an issue. Sally Ann, I do believe that you have a future in show business. I wasn't going to let a no-talent bitch like Lilac ruin your chance to grab the brass ring."
"One last question," she pressed as the taxi neared her apartment. "Did you enjoy playing with me?" Emmett blushed, in spite of himself. "I mean, I know you're gay and all.. . . "
"Sally Ann, I may sleep with more men than women, but when I find a woman like you, well.. . . "
"Thanks, Emmett. That tells me all I need to know." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "See you on the set tomorrow?"
"You bet. And Sally Ann, get some rest."
"No rest for the weary," she smiled, waving to him as the cab sped towards its next destination.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dear Diary, It's been a while since I have returned to my diary. Why? I could say, stretching the truth, that I've been so exhausted with last-minute "adjustments" to Naughty In New York that I didn't have time to write. But, to be honest, I haven't written in so long because I've had to do some hard thinking about staying in New York or returning to Dayton.
Certainly, the "incident" with Lilac was a learning experience-not a good one, but a learning experience nonetheless. How could I have been so ignorant to think for even a nanosecond that she'd only want to have dinner with me. If Emmett hadn't sabotaged her ugly, nasty plan to bribe me, I could very well have had a bootleg video I'd be ashamed and humiliated about as Lilac did with Plug That Hole.
What I have decided is that-now that filming's over-I'll talk to Lars about going home. If he says they won't need me anymore, I have no reason to stay in Manhattan. I miss my family and friends; I even miss Freddy, whom I mistreated so badly when he came to visit me. Wonder if he's with another woman now. We don't even write to each other, let alone call, so I have no idea what's going on in his head.
People in New York are truly a breed apart. The culture here is unparalleled-at least compared to what's available in Dayton. But the reality is that so many people are working two and three jobs just to make ends meet that, after a while, they lose contact with the reasons they originally came here.
I've been luckier than most, I know, and I'm grateful someone or something has been looking after me. So, to go back to Ohio, I don't think I'd feel like a failure or anything. I mean, I was in a movie. And while I don't know how much screen time I'll have in that movie, everyone in Dayton will be elated that I got as far as I did. I have nothing to be ashamed of: I've met as many good people as I have bad. But right now I'm feeling burned out by this sprawling metropolis. Going home may not be such a bad idea after all.
When Josette heard that Sally Ann was returning to Ohio, she showed a side of herself Sally Ann had never seen before-despondency. Josette was always "on," always doing something, whether it be fucking the always-horny Deke or teaching a dance class or making the requisite audition rounds.
"Sally Ann, have you really thought this decision through?" the dark-haired dancer questioned.
"Yes, and for longer than you probably think." Sally Ann stroked the face of her obviously upset friend. "And don't go thinking this decision to leave New York has anything to do with you. Josette, you've given me a place to stay, helped me get adjusted to living in a city ten times the size of Dayton-even shared your man with me."
Josette laughed in spite of her sadness. "Believe me, Sally Ann, there was no 'compromise' in that department. Deke wanted you as soon as he saw you. And he and I have been together long enough now for me to trust that-even if a supermodel walked into our bedroom, ripped off her clothes, and spread her legs-I'm the special one. The one he even might want to marry one day."
Married? Was Josette telling her something she didn't know?
Josette saw the expression on Sally Ann's face and quickly waved away what the pretty blonde was thinking. "No, he hasn't asked me yet, Sally Ann, but recently the subject has come up. I'm going to be thirty pretty soon; I can't stop thinking that maybe I'd like to really settle down with one man, have a kid-all the things most women my age start thinking about when they hear their biological clock ticking, ticking, ticking."
"Do you believe you could raise a child in New York and dance at the same time? I mean, Deke's not exactly pulling in a big salary."
"That's an understatement," Josette replied dryly. I'm making more money now teaching than he is. And he's not willing to 'lower himself to waiting tables or bartending part-time anymore. So, Sally Ann, your concerns are mine as well. The bottom line is: Is Deke a man I can depend on, someone who'll love me and help me raise a family?"
Sally Ann flashed back to Freddy in Ohio. They, too, had talked often about a domestic life together, how many children they'd like to have. And, un-like Deke, Freddy was very stable. He craved stability as much as he did seeing through his dream of having a small house with a white picket fence around it and a little garden in the back yard. As a computer programmer, he already was on a promising financial track.
"You're off in another galaxy, Sally Ann," Josette said, interrupting her flashback.
"Sorry, Josette. I was just thinking about Freddy. When I think about all the guys I've met since I've been here-especially the ones I fucked-Freddy's still the only man I could seriously consider settling down with. In fact, none of the men I've met here seem to want domestic tranquility. They may make tons of money and have imagine apartments, but, when it comes to commitment-even a hint of itthey back off in a hurry."
"Well, it sounds as if you've made up your mind," Josette determined. "And I'd be the last person to judge you. In fact, your chances of settling down with Freddy are a hell of a lot better than mine are with Deke. Life's short, hon. Obviously, you've thought this thing through. I say, go for it. Go for it, be happy, and don't ever look back on your stay in Manhattan with regret. You were talented and lucky enough to see your dream materialize."
Still stroking Josette's face, Sally Ann suddenly had the urge to cradle the woman's head in her lap affectionately. If she went home, Sally Ann knew they chances of her seeing Josette again were remote. As the two beauties sat on Sally Ann's futon, Sally Ann gently but firmly moved Josette's body into a prone position, with the woman's upper body nestled between her legs."
"Kiss me," Josette said.
"Mind reader," laughed Sally Ann.
It was a long, passionate smooch, tongue-to-tongue. Josette, in her leotard, broke away momentarily to pull off the garment. Sally Ann did the same. They wanted to be as comfortable as possible for what seemed-likely to be their last tryst.
Josette playfully nibbled on her friend's nipples, then, in earnest, sucked them into her mouth, letting her tongue travel around the aerole.
"Mmmmm," Sally Ann moaned, laying back on the futon to take in fully the ecstasy in her breasts. "I'm going to miss those lips on my titties, Josette."
"And I know something else you're going to miss, hon." Josette's tongue traveled down from Sally Ann's nipples to her taut belly, to her lightly-haired cunt. Josette recalled the first time she'd seen Sally Ann naked the day she first arrived in New York. It must be nice having a pussy with so little hair around it, she'd thought. Her own pubic area was covered densely with dark cunt hair. Deke often asked her to trim it, since it was so thick he complained after going down on her he'd be picking hairs out of his teeth for the next several hours.
"Yes, yes!" the blonde vixen moaned as Josette's tongue snaked its way from her labia to her clitoris, locating the hot pink nubbin, and locking her lips around it.
Josette looked up at Sally Ann, who had arched her pelvis in order to give Josette better access to her cunt. Josette stopped sucking long enough to ask Sally Ann if she'd do the same to her-the classic sixty-nine.
Sally Ann didn't have to be asked twice. In a flash, the two women were coiled around each other's pussy, feasting on each other as if it was their last supper. It was Josette who came first.
"Ohhhh, ohhhh my gosh!" she shrieked as her sweet nectar was swept up by Sally Ann's tongue and down her gullet. "I cum so good with you, hon. You've become an expert in the art of the clit climax."
"Shhhhh," Sally Ann said gently. "You don't want to stop now, do you?"
"Oh, heavens no. I want you to cum, too, my love. Let's change positions."
Josette took Sally Ann by the hand, leading her into the bedroom. "This'll be so much more comfortable than that hard futon," Josette said, sticking her ass up in the air on the mattress. She spread apart her ass cheeks, exposing both her cunt and ass-hole. "Keep licking my pussy, baby, and slide a finger up my ass while you do it, okay?"
"Your every wish is my command," Sally Ann replied, meaning it. Josette gave her so much pleasure, returning the favor was the least she could do. Besides, although Sally Ann's experiences with anal sex were limited, if there was anyone with whom she felt comfortable enough to eat ass as well as play with it, it was Josette. Sally Ann admired the beautiful buttocks in the bedroom wall mirror before diving in and teasing Josette's pink ass-hole with her tongue.
"Deeper, darling. Go deeper, please!" Josette let go of one cheek to grab Sally Ann's head and push it into her rectum. Sally Ann was surprised how relaxed Josette was. For some reason, she'd always imagined the back door entrance was almost impenetrable. Yet, here she was chowing down on an ass-hole that seemed to pull her tongue in as deeply as Sally Ann could shove it.
Suddenly, both women were startled to hear the sound of the bedroom door open. Deke was standing naked, observing them.
Momentarily taken aback, Sally Ann stopped her anal assault on Josette.
"Please continue, my lovelies," Deke smiled, his always-reliable cock at half staff. "Don't let me get in the way."
"Maybe we want you to get in the way," Sally Ann said.
"Yeah, babe, join us." Josette's ass was still in the air, waiting impatiently to be filled with tongue, fingers, cock or dildo. "Feed me like the insatiable bitch I am," Josette demanded to both of them.
"Can't imagine a better invitation," Deke whispered in Sally Ann's ear. He came up behind Josette, whose ass was perfectly in line with his cock. His tumescent pecker slid into her pussy like a knife in warm butter. Obviously, Sally Ann really had gotten his girlfriend primed for action. Deke threw his head back like a stallion raring to go.
"Oh, Deke, feed it to me. Gimme that big ol' dick of yours," Josette groaned, her hair flailing over her shoulder. "Sally Ann, why don't you come around on the other side of the bed and suck on my nipples some more? I love how you do it."
Feeling the dampness between her legs increase, Sally Ann did as she was told, playing with her pussy at the same time. She stopped for a brief time to extract the dildo from the bedside table. When she returned to sucking the delectable Josette's nips, Sally Ann pleasured herself by pushing the head of the dildo in and out of her gushing gash. Since the head was the thickest part of the sex toy, whenever Sally Ann used the dildo, her favorite thing to do was feel the massive head plop just inside her cunt. In fact, she found that sensation preferable to mere dildo fucking.
"Now, fuck Sally Ann," Josette commanded.
"But, doll, she already has her cunny filled with the dildo," Deke replied.
"Use your imagination. She's got two holes down there, you know," Josette reminded him.
"You mean you want me to.. . "
"I want you to fuck Sally Ann up the ass while I watch."
Involuntarily, Sally Ann immediately clenched her cheeks together.
"You're not used to ass fucking are you, Sally Ann?" Deke asked her; the concern in his voice was obvious.
"No, I'm really not. Just fuck me the way you usually do."
"Sally Ann, don't deprive yourself. Let me help you relax and Deke won't give you any more of his cock than you can comfortably handle. How's that sound?"
"All I can do is try," Sally Ann responded. The three of them changed positions again, with Sally Ann now on the edge of the bed on her knees, the dildo head inside her pink pussy lips. Josette moved in front of Sally Ann, spread her pussy, and told her to go back to lapping her pussy. Sally Ann become so preoccupied with this-one of her favorite girl-girl sex acts-that she hardly felt any pain when Deke shoved the head of his massive missile inside her ass-hole. To further distract Sally Ann from feeling any pain, Deke slowly, gently pushed and pulled the dildo head in and out of her now-slick pussy.
Sally Ann was overcome, as if a tidal wave was rushing over her every erogenous zone: Josette's cunt buried in her mouth, the dildo's corona being shoved in and out of her dripping pussy, and Deke's own cock inching its way deeper, deeper, deeper into the nether regions of her butt hole. It was complete and total bliss.
Suddenly, Josette bucked hard into Sally Ann's face, which was wet with the brunette's pussy dew. "Cumming!" she gasped. "Cumming!"
Sally Ann ravenously lapped up the juices that were streaming into her mouth. It was almost as if Josette would never stop climaxing long enough for Sally Ann to savor the succulent pussy stew.
Josette drew back and collapsed at the head of the bed. Despite her momentary fatigue, she continued to play with Sally Ann's nipples, which were now hard, little pink bullets.
Deke continued to find a rhythm that suited both him and Sally Ann. As he'd pull out the dildo head from her cunt, he'd slip his long cock into her rectum a little deeper, but always gently. Consequently, Sally Ann always had something up one of her holes. She was delirious with happiness.
"Go for it, Deke," Josette, flicking Sally Ann's nips, urged. "Look at her face. She's on Cloud Nine."
And with those words of encouragement, Deke pumped the last inches of his impressive pecker into Sally Ann's ass-hole.
"Ummm!" Sally Ann screamed suddenly. The abrupt change of pace caused her, once again, to clench her ass-hole closed. But Deke was not to be denied-especially since it had taken him this long to get Sally Ann comfortable enough to take his prick up her backside.
"Don't fight it, darlin', " Deke told her. "Relax. Let yourself go. I promise I won't move a fraction of an inch until you're ready."
Deke pulled the dildo from her pussy, and handed it to his girlfriend. Josette, seeing how slick the fake cock was with Sally Ann's cum, immediately stuck it up her own crack hole, her pussy pulling it inside hungrily. The dildo was replaced by Deke's fingers.
With his cock still buried in Sally Ann's ass-hole, Deke located the buxom blonde's clit and began playing with it in earnest.
"Yeah, Deke, you know I love it when you do that," Sally Ann moaned. Her head hung low, her blonde tresses wet with perspiration. It was as if Sally Ann had taken an advanced ballet class and was now ready for the final combination.
Deke, too, felt he was reaching the point of no return. With two fingers buried inside Sally Ann, and Josette, legs splayed, arousing herself again with the dildo, he knew he was going to blast off any minute.
"I'm ready to cum, what about you?" he asked Sally Ann.
"Really fuck my ass now, Deke," she requested, her baby blue eyes winking at him seductively. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
Deke only had a minute or two to carry out Sally Ann's bidding before he flooded her bowels with a sperm enema. Still, that was enough to provoke Sally Ann's climax. Even Josette, who'd cum and cum and cum during this final fuck-fest, said she was on the brink.
It was the rarest of rare experiences when three sex-crazed lovers popped their loads at the same time; it happened serendipitously.
"Aiiieeeee!" Deke yelped.
"Ohhh, ahhhh, ummmm!" Josette screamed.
"Cumming! Oh fuck, am I cumming!" Sally Ann completed the refrain.
All three realized at that moment that this was something-three mutual climaxes-that they probably would never have the opportunity to experience again-at least with each other. They rearranged their bodies, lying side by side, with Deke in the middle, on the cum-stained sheets. And, as if preordained, all three fell asleep, exhausted but satisfied.
It was Josette who broke the news to Deke when they awoke. "Deke, it appears our lovely blonde wench, soon-to-be-movie-star, is giving it all up to go back to Ohio."
"You're joking." Deke couldn't imagine Sally Ann leaving, especially after having gotten "her foot in the door" of the movie industry.
"No, she's not." Sally Ann kissed Deke sweetly on his forehead and stroked his face affectionately. "I've made up my mind. I came here with a goal in mind, and I've achieved it."
"You've only scratched the surface. Now that you've made your debut, Sally Ann, you're on your way. Don't you want to continue in showbiz?"
"She's already discussed that with me," Josette interrupted. "Deke, I would really appreciate it if you would respect her decision."
Deke shook his head, as if trying to comprehend why this beautiful, talented, sweet-natured young woman from the Midwest would give up a promising career. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand."
"She's not asking you to understand," Josette told him. "Only to support her in what has obviously been a difficult decision for Sally Ann to make. Is that so hard, darling?"
Feeling it was only fair to clarify her change of heart to Deke, who'd treated her so well during their brief friendship, Sally Ann briefly recounted her negative experience with Lilac Veracruz as well as her desire to see her family and Ohio friends again.
"But there will always be people like Lilac Veracruz," interjected Deke.
"Let her talk, Deke," Josette protested. "After all, this is probably our last fuck together."
Deke looked crestfallen. Again, Sally Ann wondered if she was making a terrible mistake going back to the Midwest right at the moment her career was taking off.
"I miss my fianc'."
"But, Sally Ann, when he came to visit you, you couldn't wait for Freddy to leave," Deke reminded her.
"Yes, I know. I treated him terribly and I feel awful about what I did and said to him when he'd come so far just to see me. God willing, I will not turn into a Lilac Veracruz. I will not manipulate the people I care for the most-and that includes you two."
Translating further, Josette added: "Deke, it's obvious Sally Ann is still in love with Freddy. And that kind of love doesn't come along every dayand, for some people, for an entire lifetime."
"How do you know if he'd take you back?"
"Deke, I don't know if he'd take me back. I haven't been in touch with him since he left New York. For all I know, he's shacked up with someone else now."
"No," Josette said. "He strikes me as a one-woman kind of man. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made such a scene when you rejected him. I envy that-you having cultivated that seed of love. Now, it's time to watch the flowers bloom!"
"That is the wishy-washiest bullshit I've ever heard," Deke said good-naturedly. "Not to mention a truly awful metaphor."
Sally Ann rose to clean up.
"When are you leaving?" Deke inquired.
"Soon."
"like, tomorrow?"
"Oh, no. I've still got a lot of loose ends to tie up before I return."
"I'd like to help you tie up your loose end," Deke said salaciously.
"I bet you would," Josette laughed.
"We will miss you."
"I'll miss you as well. I've never had sex as great as what we just experienced together," Sally Ann remarked honestly. "And, who knows? When Naughty in New York opens, maybe I'll be invited to the premiere. I've always dreamed about stepping out of a stretch limousine, paparazzi popping their flashbulbs all around me, and walking down a red carpet into the theater with all the other stars. Believe it or not, even after all I've been through-especially with Lilac-I'm still stars truck. And I have no regrets about my work in that film, although I may change my mind when I see the final cut."
"Something tells me Naughty in New York always will be memorable for you, Sally Ann," Josette commented. "It's just too bad we can't have everything at the same time."
Sally Ann, realizing she was stepping into territory where she had no business, picked up on the sadness in Josette's voice, which her friend was unsuccessfully trying to hide.
"Deke, do you know you have someone who loves you very much lying right next to you at this very moment?"
Deke turned his head to gaze deeply into Josette's brown doe eyes. "What are you trying to say, Sally Ann?"
"I'm saying that, after being under the same roof with you two all these months, it's pretty obvious you could take your relationship further-if you want to."
The look on Josette's face said it all: She wanted a commitment with Deke as much as Sally Ann did with Freddy.
"I love you, honey," Deke told Josette, folding her into his arms. "But are you sure I'm the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with?"
"No, I'm not sure. How can one ever be completely certain about moving from a casual relationship into marriage?"
"Marriage?" Deke seemed to choke on the word. Sally Ann immediately regretted having brought up the subject. Josette turned her head away from Deke, so he wouldn't see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Are you asking me to marry you? Is this a proposal? Isn't the guy suppose to ask the girl?"
"Sometimes, I believe I'd be old and gray before that happened," Josette said sullenly.
"And all along I thought you didn't want to marry me," Deke said. "My gosh, we've wasted all this time."
"You mean you do want to marry me?"
Deke held his lover even more tightly to his well-developed chest. He kissed her passionately, and Josette felt her body melting into his.
"I'm going to leave you two alone to talk while I take a bath," Sally Ann said, suddenly bursting with optimism and happiness. She was prouder at having engineered the marriage proposal than any of the film work she'd done. She'd made two of her best friends rethink the nature of their relationship.
Sally Ann closed the bathroom door, ran a hot bath, added some soothing eucalyptus bath salts, and turned the small bathroom into a temporary sauna. She felt her tense muscles soothed by the aroma and water temperature. But as much as Sally Ann tried to push Freddy from her thoughts, images of his face, his body, his cock, kept returning. Why was it always so much easier for her to counsel her friends than to heed her own advice?
Getting things worked out with Freddy-if it wasn't already too late, must become Sally Ann's number one priority-not the movie or the motley crew of men that came in and out of her life like a revolving door.
She only hoped it wasn't too late.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Needless to say, Lars Lissaker was beside himself when he heard his prot'g' from the Midwest had decided to return to Ohio.
"Are you crazy? Are you out of your fucking mind?" Lars ranted. "Sally Ann, we may be finished with shooting and dubbing, but obviously you don't know enough about filmmaking to understand that's only half the ball game."
Sally Ann was in Lars's spacious-but-Spartan Tribeca loft. She'd called him the night before, intending to tell him a sudden tragedy had occurred-her mother was in the hospital recovering from a car accident-but Sally Ann was the world's worst liar. Instead, she decided to make an early morning "appointment" with her Svengali, be honest with him (after all, Lars did give her her first big break) and talk to the director privately.
"Can't you at least give me some idea of what all this is about?" Lars asked her. "You know I'm very busy with the film now, Sally Ann. Isn't there another time-"
"No," she interrupted. "Lars, I've got to talk to you right away."
"Okay, okay. Be here at eight A.M. Whatever you have to tell me, make it brief."
She hung up the phone, feeling a knot tighten in her tummy. Sally Ann hoped it wasn't the first sign of an ulcer. God knows, I've never been so anxious about anything like I am about this, Sally Ann thought. She felt like a Benedict Arnold, cutting out early rather than face the music. Would he think that she was not grateful? Would he yell and scream at her, as he sometimes did with other actors on the set? She made herself a cup of tea with honey. The warm chamomile helped calm her nerves. She wished either Deke or Josette were there to rehearse with her what to say to Lars, but they'd gone out to see a movie.
One thing Sally Ann knew for certain: There would be no turning back once Lars learned she was leaving. In fact, maybe he'd be glad-one less temperamental actress for him to deal with. Besides, it wasn't as if he was losing the "star," Lilac. Sally Ann was a mere chorus dancer. She fell asleep that night with fitful nightmares of Lars-apoplectic with anger. As she tossed and turned on the futon, she imagined the worst: Lars cutting her out of every scene from the film. Wouldn't that be poetic justice for Lilac, who'd failed in her attempts to shame Sally Ann? She already could see Lilac relishing Sally Ann's humiliation.
The Midwestern temptress knew there would be repercussions, she just didn't know what they'd be. And it was the not knowing that intruded on her sleep. When the alarm clock rang the next morning, Sally Ann was so tired from her insomnia, she wondered if maybe she should just skip town and catch a train back to Dayton.
Her worst fears were confirmed now. Lars was chain smoking as he paced back and forth in his loft.
"I just can't believe you're flushing a possible film career down the toilet," he raged. "Sally Ann, I had high hopes for you. You saw the rushes. Did they leave no impact on you at all? Were you that disappointed with your work?"
"Of course not, Lars. I was beside myself with happiness, seeing my face forty-feet high on the screen. Considering that I came into the film with absolutely no experience, I know I'm in debt to you for educating me, molding me, spending time to make sure I did everything right."
"I made you dance captain, Sally Ann," Lars reminded her. "I chose you because you seemed, more than the other dancers, so willing to commit yourself completely to Naughty In New York. Obviously, I have underestimated you."
Sally Ann quaked inside, trying not to lose control, not wanting to let the incident with Lilac and Emmett slip out. But when it became apparent Lars would not back down, Sally Ann felt she had no choice but to defend her reasons for going back to Ohio. Briefly, she recounted Lilac's foray with the video camera. When she finished telling the sad and evil story, Lars snuffed out his last cigarette and sat down with a heavy sigh on his sofa.
"My God, Sally Ann. Why didn't you tell me until now?"
"I didn't want to burden you, Lars, especially watching you work full tilt. I didn't want to cause friction on the set."
Lars picked up his cellular phone and began dialing.
"Who are you calling?"
"Who do you think?"
"Don't Lars, please. It will only make things worse. Lilac Veracruz will stop at nothing to get what she wants, the way she wants it, at anyone's expense. If it wasn't for her miscalculation in trusting Emmett, I might be dead. She said it was all in jest-just to have a little fun, but it wasn't fun. I was scared to death."
Lars put down the phone and started pacing again.
"Please, Lars, stop with the smoking, the pacing. You're making me even more nervous than I already am. Just let it ride, pretend it never happened, and get on with finishing your movie. That's what you should be worrying about, not me."
"When are you leaving?"
"I bought my train ticket for tomorrow afternoon. I haven't even told my family I'm going home. They'll be so surprised."
Lars shook his blond mane, sadly trying to comprehend the story he'd just heard. Then, he muttered something in German, and gave Sally Ann a searching look with his red-rimmed blue eyes. It was apparent the man was working himself to death.
"Do I have to spell it out for you."
"Spell what out?" Sally Ann queried.
"Then, I guess, you don't feel the same way that I feel about you."
"Lars, I'm not understanding what you're trying to tell me."
"From the moment I first saw you at Chez Pierre, Sally Ann, I was infatuated."
Sally Ann flashed back on the huge tip he'd given her before leaving the restaurant.
"And when Jean-Claude told me you had aspirations to be in pictures, well, I thought that was one way I could get closer to you."
"So, you just assumed I was a lousy actress, but you wanted to fuck me anyway," Sally retorted testily.
Lars continued. "I arranged your audition to see if you had talent as well as beauty. You probably won't believe this, but even if we'd not had sex, the actual dance performance you did was like a slap in my face."
"That bad, huh?"
"Not at all; just the opposite, Sally Ann. You were magnificent with that music I gave you to dance to. I'd already determined I'd use you in some capacity in Naughty In New York, because I had this terrible schoolboy crush on you. Then, I find out you're riveting to watch as a dancer, as a performer. There was another young woman I'd invited to audition for me here later the same day, but I canceled out after seeing you."
"Really?" Sally Ann was overwhelmed by the compliment, but she still didn't trust that Lars was telling her the truth. Perhaps he was rattling on just to keep her in New York. Sally Ann had learned the hard way about the ulterior motives so many New Yorkers-especially in the entertainment industry-had, luring unsuspecting wannabes like Sally Ann into a vortex of false hopes and promises. Again, she flashed back to Lilac. How could she ever make a career for herself working with bitches like her?
Lars moved to the sofa Sally Ann was curled up on, and began massaging her neck.
"You feel comfortable here, don't you, my love?"
"I've always had a weakness for oversized leather arm chairs and sofas," she confessed.
"Sally Ann, I wasn't asking your opinion on interior design. You feel comfortable with me, no?"
"No, I mean, yes," she stammered. Lars's massage was really relaxing her now. The tight muscles in her neck uncoiled. He rubbed her temples gently with his fingers. Sally Ann closed her eyes. "Yes, I feel comfortable with you, Lars."
In an instant, Lars hurdled the sofa and was next to her on the leather sofa.
"Wait a minute, Lars. What's happening here?"
In lieu of a reply, the German director put his hands on her breasts, feeling her nipples hardening through her blouse as he massaged her firm, fleshy mounds. No silicone here, he thought. Lars had had his share of tits; he knew the real from the surgically "enhanced."
Sally Ann was in a quandary. Here she was, trying her best to convey to Lars why she wanted to leave Manhattan, and, instead, she was relenting, giving herself over to the pleasure in his massive hands. She dug down deep inside and pulled away from him.
"Lars, there's something else you should know."
"Whatever it is, I don't want to know," he replied firmly.
"I'm in love with someone else. You don't know him; he's not in showbiz, and he loves me dearly-at least, he once did."
"Some Ohio hayseed?"
"Don't call Freddy that," she said curtly. "Un-like the men in New York, he doesn't expect me to always be 'on call' for him. We'd been together ever since high school and were planning on getting married before I decided to try my hand at New York City."
"Why do you feel so compelled to tell me this, Sally Ann? Is he that much of a better lover than I am?"
"Actually, he's quite a good lover, Lars. He may not know all the tricks you do to make a woman cum, but he's no slouch in the bedroom."
She sat back down on the sofa, Lars immediately resuming the breast massage.
I'll just get this over with as soon as possible," Sally Ann told herself. I'll fuck Lars one last time, and get the hell out of this town!
Lars, surprised at Sally Ann's abrupt acquiescence, moved in for the kill. He placed one of Sally's hands on the long tube of cock that snaked down his leg like a python. Sally Ann unzipped his fly, unbuckled his belt, and dove into the musky-smelling, tantalizing groin.
"Wait, let's get comfortable," Lars said. He stood up and shucked off his clothes as Sally Ann did the same. He took her by the hand and led her behind a large Oriental rice screen, where his king-sized bed was discreetly hidden. He lay her down on the bed and was on top of her in a flash, his cock digging deeply into her pussy mound. There was no foreplay, and Sally Ann's cunt was not moist enough yet to handle the penetration.
"Don't you at least want to cuddle first?" she asked him. "Women love foreplay. You, of all people, should know that."
"I only know that I want you now! I don't care about foreplay; I don't care that you're dry; believe me, I'll get you heated up as long as you give in to me.
For some reason, Sally Ann stopped thinking about Lars and, instead, fantasized about Freddy. Every time Lars pounded her pussy with his roto-rooter, Sally Ann pretended it was her long-time companion's delectable dick. How she loved Freddy's prick. It may not be as impressively large as this lusty German's, but it tasted briny and sweet at the same time. She savored it whenever Freddy wanted to have her perform oral sex on him. Freddy knew that-however problematic their lives might be outside the bedroom-in the sack, Sally Ann became insatiable for sex with him. She could suck his cock and swallow his seed for hours. It didn't even matter to her when he'd climaxed down her throat. Sally Ann loved to suckle his spent penis. Eventually, all the oral ministrations paid off. Freddy's cock would pop up like a flagpole, and they'd start their sex-fest all over again.
"Look at me, Sally Ann," Lars commanded, jolting her back to reality. "What are you thinking about? This Freddy guy? Don't you want me?"
"Yes, of course I want you, Lars," she lied, wanting to end this session as soon as possible so she could begin packing her luggage.
"I don't believe you."
"Well, then, what would it take to convince you?"
Lars quickly flipped Sally Ann on her stomach. "Fucking you up the ass. Fucking your fanny hole."
Having just experienced anal sex with Josette and Deke the night before, Sally Ann could no longer claim to be an anal virgin. But getting plugged up her butt by Lars's long schlong was beyond comprehension.
"I'm sorry, Lars, but I don't think so."
"So, you're rejecting me again?" If his ploy was to make Sally Ann feel even guiltier about leaving the city, Lars had succeeded. She buried her head in one of the huge silk-covered pillows, stuck her ass up in the air as Josette had done only last night, and spread her cheeks.
"That's more like it, my love." Lars reached into a nearby night table, extracting a condom and something called "Love Lube" that was cloyingly sweet-smelling, like overly ripe cherries. Sally Ann had never seen a man so adept at putting an extra-large condom on his prick. Although she could see that the rubber was already lubricated, Lars applied a generous amount of the pale pink "Love Lube" to his dick, then to her ass-hole. This act was quickly followed by an index finger pushing open the small, succulent hole below her blonde pussy. "like it, bitch?"
"Love it," she replied, wanting desperately to get this over and done. The moniker "bitch," which often turned her on during sex talk, now sounded mean-spirited, venomous.
"Well, fasten your seat belt, bitch. We're going on a bumpy, freaky ride."
The lube-oozing prick worked its head into her rectum. Surprisingly, Lars was not slam-dunking his dick into her as he'd done with her pussy. Whatever motives he had for fucking her after she told him she was leaving, Lars was respectful enough to minimize the initial pain she normally felt when a finger, dildo or dick was in her ass.
"That feels wonderful," Lars moaned. He reached under her and played with her nipples a while before moving lower and diddling her clit. It was an almost perfect replay of her rendezvous with Deke and Josette the night before.
"Yeah, baby, fuck that hole. Plug me up good with your big pink cock," she urged, realizing the dirty talk would help bring him to a climax faster.
Lars gently slapped her ass. "Shut up, bitch. I'll tell you when I want you to talk to me."
Again, the tone in his voice was venomous. Feeling uncomfortable, Sally Ann clenched her ass-hole. But it was too late: Lars's cock was already firmly lodged up her shitter.
"Loosen up, damn it!" he commanded, slapping her ass harder this time.
"Ouch! Lars, take it easy, okay, honey?" Sally Ann had always been open-minded about sex. She had, in only the few months of her stay in New York, feasted on an extensive menu of sexual delectables. But pain was not one of them. And she wanted Lars to know she could make it very difficult for him to cum by clenching her cheeks. Because her ass-hole had rarely been used for fucking when she lived in Ohio, Sally Ann was one tight babe.
"Just let me inside," Lars demanded.
Sally Ann sighed heavily. What's taking him so long? Why isn't he cumming? she wondered, finally giving in, forcing herself to relax, and letting him have his way.
Although Sally Ann was no Lilac Veracruz when it came to anal sex, Lars Lissaker knew he could proceed with this busty blonde and urge her on. He placed another finger in her ass, gently rubbing her clit, feeling her backside muscles relax into him. Then, he began to seriously ass fuck her.
Surprisingly, Sally Ann experienced no pain anymore. The magic combination of having her two holes filled at once was working. Lars screamed his invectives, but Sally Ann was too lost in her Freddy fantasy to react to them.
Then, he came. She sighed with relief that it was over. Sally Ann felt the condom balloon inside her pussy, and knew Lars had reached his peak. He abruptly pulled out of her ass and slapped it again, this time, playfully.
"I've got to wash up," Mr. No-nonsense told her. Despite his earlier confession that Lars had had a crush on Sally Ann from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, at this moment she was just another chorus dancer to him.
While Lars was in the John, showering off Sally Ann's fluids and the icky-sticky "Love Lube," Sally Ann quickly dressed and left the loft. She scribbled a brief note: "Thanks for the memories. Best of luck with Naughty In New York," left it on the perspiration-stained, flame-red satin sheets, and quietly closed the door behind her. Intuitively, she knew she'd never see Lars Lissaker again. Sadly, she realized he and Lilac, despite their nonstop feuding, were cut from the same cloth.
Poor Jean-Claude. Eventually, they'll use him, too. He really seems to love Lilac, she thought. Jean-Claude deserves better, but he'll have to discover that on his own.
Sally Ann deserved better treatment, too. Her heart was racing, racing, racing as the taxi drove her back to the quaintly converted carriage house she'd called home during the last months. She was experiencing an urgency to leave "the city of Sodom" that was almost palpable.
Lord, just get me back to Ohio," she pleaded inwardly. Take me back to my family. Take me back to Freddy. Take me anywhere but here. I promise I'll never roam again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dear Diary, It's been pretty melancholy around here, as you might imagine. It's hard to say good-bye to Josette and Deke, harder still not to feel like a real ingrate for bailing out on Lars. But, I have accomplished what I set out to do so many, many years ago: be a dancer, be a "star" (whatever that means). My family is over the moon about me coming home. Frankly, I miss them all so much, more than I think I'll ever miss Manhattan.
But it took me being here to realize that. If I'd never come because I was afraid or intimidated by "the city that never sleeps," how would I ever have known what living here was like? I'm sure one day I'll be back. But it will be as a tourist, with my husband and kids at my side, staying in some really nice hotel like the Waldorf or the Plaza. Okay, okay, those places are on the pricey side. I'd settle for a Holiday Inn.
The question gnawing at me now is: Will Freddy be the "husband" in my fantasies? I hurt him so badly, he many never speak to me again. Who could blame him? I behaved abominably, and I'm ashamed of what I said and did to him while he was here. Especially sexually, which has never been a problem with us-I even denied him access to my pussy. Talk about a man feeling the ultimate kind of rejection! I'll never forget the look on his face the last time I saw him before he went back to Dayton-a look that said: Sally Ann, you've hurt me for the last time-the very last time. I mean, this from a man who wanted to marry me, who'd already given me an engagement ring. And what did he get? Booted out of New York by yours truly.
Living here-however briefly-was made special by people like Billy, James, Jean-Claude, and especially Emmett. One day, if there's any justice left in this crazy world, he'll be rewarded for his act of kindness. I called him to tell him I was going home, back to Dayton, and he actually started crying. "Sally Ann," he said, "it'd been so long since I'd been with a woman sexually. But, in addition to liking you as a friend, I am attracted to you-strongly attracted to you-physically. Believe it or not, you make me question my sexual preferences. I know I'll always be gay. Can't stop cruising those cuties on Christopher Street. But, if you 're ever back in Manhattan and you want a hot date for the night, please call me first. I realize, though, you've probably got a very long waiting list."
As it turned out, this was the last entry in Sally Ann's New York diary. After she'd flown back to Dayton (no more train sex for her, thank you) and saw her family waiting for her-their faces beaming-Sally Ann could only think, to borrow the classic line from The Wizard of Oz: "There's no place like home."
"Dear, you look pale," her mother said, giving her a top-to-bottom appraisal.
"I've really been working hard, Mother," Sally Ann replied truthfully. "Film production was a completely new world for me, and it demanded nonstop vigilance on my part, since Lars, the director, appointed me dance captain. Some days, we'd work ten or twelve hours."
"Well, then, Sally Ann, no wonder you look so tired."
Her kid sister, Rita, who'd secretly wished she could one day go to New York, too-to pursue a career in fashion design-couldn't resist a little dig. "You've lost weight, Sally Ann. I know you always felt you were too filled-out to be a ballet dancer, so maybe the movie helped you reduce your weight."
Sally Ann's mother, father, and sister helped her with her bags. Surprisingly, while packing her things, Sally Ann realized she had very little material things to show for her stay in New York. Consequently, no one had to struggle with excessive luggage.
The drive home from Cleveland Hopkins airport to Dayton really opened up Sally Ann's eyes. It was almost as if she'd never seen the place before-or appreciated its pastoral pleasures as much. It was a warm, sunny afternoon. Even on the standard asphalt highway, as houses, trees, and, finally, Dayton itself came into view, Sally Ann felt her heart beating wildly.
"You know, sis," Rita said, "you never even told us what the title of the movie is."
Immediately, Sally Ann sensed danger-the kind of danger she'd intuited the near-fateful night Lilac Veracruz had gotten her drunk enough to tie her to the bed and film one humiliating act after another. Again, Emmett flashed through her mind. If it wasn't for him.. . .
Sally Ann abruptly was brought back to reality.
"Yeah," Mrs. Gardner agreed with her younger daughter. "Is it some kind of foreign film? Lars.. .isn't that a German name? And-what's her name-that Veracruz actress, her name sounds South American or Dominican."
"Sounds Cuban to me," Rita said.
Mr. Gardner, who'd remained rather quiet throughout the drive from Cleveland to Dayton, piped: "Well, Sally Ann, despite your efforts to keep this movie's title a secret, one day I ran into your former ballet teacher, Miss Farrell."
Sally Ann flashbacked to their torrid, student-teacher, cunt-lapping farewell. People always assume we Midwesterners are so uptight and prudish. No other woman ever ate me out like Miss Farrell-not even Josette or Vicky. Miss Farrell has a tongue like a snake, and it slithers into all the right places. Yeah, that "farewell fuck" was just what I needed to prepare for New York City. At least, as much as one can prepare oneself for such an "anything goes " city.
Her father continued his story. "She asked me how you were doing in New York. She really cares about your welfare, Sally Ann.
"I know, Dad. I've always liked that about her. She's genuinely a nice woman. It's just that, especially now, she prefers to spend the holidays in her "cottage" in Vermont. Who wouldn't? like I said, she's a real sweetheart."
"Not too many of them left, huh, Trudy?" Mr. Gardner cajoled his wife of nearly twenty-five years. She fired back playfully.
"Well, like they say, behind every good man, stands a good woman. You've kept me very happy through the years, Clyde."
Mr. Gardner, "Clyde"-a name he'd always hated after he learned his parents named him after the Budweiser Clydesdale horses. Growing up, Clyde relentlessly was teased about his name. When Trudy became pregnant with Sally Ann, then, a few years later, with her sister Rita, both Trudy and Clyde agreed to keep their names as generic as possible. No imagine nom de guerres for their little girls.
But, truth be told, what really kept their marriage alive and kicking after a quarter of a century was fucking. Even at their advanced ages, Trudy and Clyde continued to have sex at least three to four times a week-and it wasn't because one of them was "accommodating" the other.
Just the evening before, Trudy and Clyde had decided to experiment with sex toys, something that had had stigmas and taboos in Dayton attached to them not so long ago. Only a few years ago, in fact, an adult video, book, magazine and "marital aid" store called "Private Pleasures" was closed when the religious right-Dayton, like most of the other cities in Ohio, is zealously Republican-successfully marched with their placards, yelling in unison: '"Private Pleasures' is a public nuisance. The store closed the next day. After extensive renovation, "Private Pleasures" was remade into a Gap.
But that didn't stop Trudy and Clyde from viewing the videos and magazines they'd purchased before "Private Pleasures" closed.
"Wow, look how high he's got that young lady's legs spread apart," Clyde remarked, feeling his cock bloating into a super-hard erection."
"Why don't we try it?" Trudy gamely suggested, her right hand already under her dress, toying with her pussy through her pink lace panties.
That was all it took. The next thing she knew, Trudy was getting a tongue lashing she'd never forget. Clyde never had devoured her cunt juices as he did that night. His jaw and chin were wet with Trudy's nectar.
The secret of a successful marriage? Sex, sex, and more sex!
"All right, Dad, give me the low down," Sally Ann insisted. "What's the film's name? And how much do you know about it?"
"Only that it's called Naughty in New York-I like that title-and it's some kind of artsy-fartsy movie that'll probably never come to Dayton."
Mrs. Gardner observed Sally Ann once again. Yes, there was no question her older daughter had become much more sophisticated and worldly during her stay in Manhattan. She sighed enviously, wishing she 'd had the backbone to take such a bold risk. Sally Ann, Trudy believed, didn't get her role by accident. Trudy knew her all-grown-up Sally Ann had blossomed into a woman of independent means. It might have happened to me, if only I'd.. .
Later that evening, Sally Ann crept into Rita's room. It was still painted bubble-gum pink, still had Jon Bon Jovi's posters on the wall, right next to Brad Pitt's.
"I wanna get out of here, too," Rita told her sister. "I don't want to go to New York anymore. I just want to find my own apartment, a good job, meet someone and settle down."
"Is there a special someone?"
Sally Ann, I never told you this when we were kids growing up in this house, because.. .because I was ashamed."
"Ashamed? Ashamed of what?"
"Of.. . of.. . "
"Just spit it out, Rita. I'd be the last person to judge you. And you obviously have something important to tell me. Fire away, sweetheart."
"I'm a lesbian, Sally Ann. "I don't think Mom and Dad know yet, but they suspect something's 'different' about me. I don't date. I have my female friends, and another special friend, Roger, but he's gay, too. Actually, I've found out that there are a lot of gay people living in Dayton. It's like this little underground community."
Sally Ann gave Rita a big bear hug. "Oh, Rita, Rita, Rita. What are we gonna do about you? You'd be a catch for any woman you want. By the way, are you seeing anyone? Or, at least, are there any possibilities?"
"No and no. I'm just no good at picking up women in lesbian bars."
"Honey, it will happen when you least expect it to. I can tell you that from my own experiences. Just live your life one day at a time with no lofty expectations. It could happen at your gym, while you're studying in the library. Just like it happened with Miss Farrell and me in her dance studio, right before I left to go to New York."
Now it was Rita's turned to be surprised. "You and Miss Farrell? I'd never, ever, in a million years think she was a lesbian."
"She's not exclusively gay, Rita. She also fucks guys."
"Crazy world, ain't it?"
"Getting crazier by the minute. Rita, can we change the subject just for a sec? There's a, um, piece of outstanding business-a reconciliation, actually, that I, uh.. . "
"Yes, Sally Ann. Freddy's been waiting for you ever since he found out you were coming back to Dayton. He bought a little house with that white picket fence you two were always fantasizing about-a house on the outskirts of town."
Sally Ann began to get teary-eyed. He's waited for me to come back to him. Even after I mistreated him in New York, he's forgiven me. That's the kind of man I want to share my life, have a couple of kids with and enjoy life's simple pleasures.
"So what are you waiting for, a courier to deliver your invitation?" Rita laughed.
"Huh?" Sally Ann was dumbfounded. "What's going on?"
"Get dressed in one of your swanky New York frocks and get in the car. I'm personally dropping you off at Freddy's door. He was afraid you might get cold feet and back out on the lovely dinner he's been slaving away at-just you and Freddy.. .all night."
Sally Ann was weak-kneed as Rita pulled into the driveway of Freddy's house. It was just as Rita had described it. Small, but charming. Rita rang the doorbell. Freddy, who must have been waiting at the door, opened it and exhaled deeply.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he told Sally Ann. "Boy, howdy, you look good enough to eat, honey."
"Why don't you save the 'eating out' part for later?" Rita, who couldn't resist a double entendre, piped.
Sally Ann blushed furiously, feeling her pussy getting wet, melting like molten lava even before she and Freddy had had a chance to settle in and catch up.
"Well, I've got a hot date tonight, too," Rita said. "Sorry, but I must be going."
"What time are you going to pick me up?" Sally Ann asked her.
Freddy laughed again, bursting with happiness. Sally Ann was getting more and more confused by the minute.
"What's so funny?"
"I'll chauffeur you home in the morning, Sally Ann." She noted his fat pecker, hard and running down the left side of his trousers. "If, in fact, you want to leave."
She fell into his arms as Freddy hugged her tightly. This was their night; he would make it a night she'd never forget.
"Let's not talk about New York and the movie and the big shots, okay? Let's talk about us."
"Okay. But if we talk too much, we'll never get around to dessert."
"And you're one piece of cherry pie I'm gonna chow down on all night, Sally Ann. Quite a sweet piece of cherry pie."
