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 The Woman Behind Estrella Morocco By Shon Richards



   About ten miles from the Mexican border, I had stopped for the night at
one of those really lousy diners you only see in moody modern day Western
movies.  The walls were stained with dirt, the floor had countless boot
marks and a blue haze of smoke was roosting there like a flock of vultures,
looking to prey on the last healthy lung.  I slid on torn vinyl into a
booth with a leaning table.  I made a silent prayer that the health
inspector had been by that day, and that their plates were at least wiped
before serving.  So, in a dive like that, you can imagine my complete
surprise at my waitress being a famous movie star.

   All right, maybe she wasn't exactly famous.  I mean, not many people
have seen "The Masked Avenger versus the Vampires," "The Masked Avenger
versus the KGB" or "The Masked Avenger versus the Space Men." But she did
appear in "Chainsaw Slayers of Mexico" and that achieved a large cult
status, so maybe she does count as famous.  It must have been at least
twenty years since her last movie, so I could have been wrong.  Working at
a truck stop like this certainly casts some doubts to her credibility as an
actress, but I stuck to my instinct.  Once a person watched someone as
talented and beautiful as Estrella Morocco, they would never be able to
forget this Hispanic Marilyn Monroe.

   "What would you like sir?" she asked with a bored tone.  There was no
mistaking that voice though; this was Estrella, and I was too star-struck
to answer with anything witty.

   "The Texan Burger will be fine, and a beer please," I answered.  "No,
make that a water," I corrected.  I didn't want her to think I was a
drinker.  For the first time in my adult life, I sat up straight.

   She left, and I guess I must have stared when she walked away.  I know I
stared, because every detail of her walking away is crystal clear.  The
long black hair that barely covered her breasts on the movie posters was
gone; now it was much shorter and a light brown.  A white shirt and a long
brown skirt hid her body, so who knows if she still had those flawless
curves?  Watching her talk to her boss, I could see she still had that
goofy smile, the one that Jeff said made her look like she was too damn
happy to be here.

   I rehearsed my introduction a dozen times before she returned.  My
credentials were pulled from my wallet and I placed it casually on the
table, ready to be shown at a moment's notice.  When Estrella returned, I
started talking before she even set my plate down.

   "Excuse me," I said, "my name is Greg Vanders.  I work for 'Screen
Sirens', a magazine that caters to readers who appreciate little known
actresses.  We would love you interview you."

   Those beautiful wide brown eyes narrowed to deadly slits.

   "Is this a joke?" she asked.  "I have no idea what you're talking
about." I also think that was the first time I had ever seen her frown.

   "Yes, I'm serious," I responded, all of my bravery quickly leaving.  "I
think you are Estrella Morocco, and our magazine will be happy to pay you
for an interview.  If you want to hold on to your real identity and not let
anyone else know, we can be very discreet."

   She bit her bottom lip and continued to give me an evil glare.  Instead
of letting her think on my offer, I kept babbling.

   "Well, it won't be 'we' exactly, I mean I'm the only one here.  But when
I call my boss, who's really my brother but he owns the magazine, I'm sure
they will be happy to pay you for your time and give our readers a
interview about a long lost film star."

   "This magazine," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "will pay me just
to answer questions?  You're not going to take any pictures, are you? 
Because if you want me take my clothes off you can leave right now before I
have Jimmy throw you out."

   "No, ma'am," I answered quickly, "the most we ask for is a picture or
two showing what you look like now.  It lets our readers see how beautiful
you are today."

   She snorted, something that was charming coming from a woman whom I had
only seen screaming and giggling in her movies.

   "You will pay me first," she commanded, and I nodded immediately. 
"Tomorrow, you will take me to San Fen and buy me some clothes.  Then
afterwards you and I will have the interview."

   I agreed, and wrote down the time and where I could pick her up.  I
finished my hamburger as if it were the greatest food in the world.  Even
the water tasted better knowing I had Estrella Morocco with me for the day.
It's a safe bet to say that I had it bad.

   My RV was where I was staying.  It's where I stay every vacation.  Not
only do I save money on hotel rooms, but I can take along copies of all my
favorite movies and a good portion of my fan memorabilia.  Knowing I had a
big day tomorrow, I went straight to my bunk.  As usual, my dreams tended
towards magazine articles about my life.

   Top Five Clothes Greg Hopes to Buy for Estrella



   1.  A tight shirt with lots of cleavage

   2.  A Bikini.

   3.  A sexy evening dress that Estrella wears when her and Greg go out on
the town.

   4.  A dazzling skirt and nothing else that Estrella wants to pose in
while Greg takes photos for the magazine.

   5.  Anything that Greg gets to see her model.

   After picking Estrella up in the morning and made the quiet hour-long
drive to San Fen, we stopped at the local Sears.  I think she was a little
mystified about my RV.  Instead of the modeling shows that my brother Jeff
always gets when he takes strippers shopping, Estrella had a remarkable
talent for buying a lot of clothes that I never saw.  Shopping with a woman
for a couple of hours was the equivalent of a cold shower, especially when
the woman refuses to have any conversations that last five minutes.  To be
fair, Estrella never hinted that she was going to make shopping worth my
while.  It was my overactive hormones that assumed I was in for a visual
treat.  I gained new respect for Estrella; she wasn't the flirt Jeff was
always dating, and she took advantage of me without promising anything.  I
had only myself to blame, and I resolved to stop thinking of her as the
sexy girl I knew in the movies.  Estrella deserved my respect like any
woman did, it was time I started giving it to her.

   There was one good part to the shopping.  When the cashier rang up the
total, Estrella gave me a wicked smile.  Even though it was at my expense,
it was the first time she had smiled all day so I smiled back at her.  Her
smiles were infectious that way.

   We went to eat at the food court of the mall, and in a less than ideal
interview environment, I tried to talk to her.  I needed something to show
my brother when he saw the expense report for this trip.  Estrella was
doing a good job of ignoring me as she tackled her imitation pizza, so I
decided to use an interviewing trick that worked on Tonya Ferra.  I passed
the microphone and tape recorder to her.

   "Why are you giving this to me?" she asked.

   "So you can ask my any questions you want," I said.  "It's only fair
that before I question you, that you get a chance to bug me all you want."

   Estrella took hold of the microphone and pointed it at me like a gun. 
The big brown pools of her eyes looked at me and I felt a flutter of
excitement.  It might have been the gas in my soda, though.

   "Why did you want this job?" she asked.

   "That's a long answer, but one I'm going to answer, so don't get upset,"
I said.  "My father was Henry Vanders, and he was a wealthy real estate
agent in Hollywood.  He was also a huge fan of movies.  It didn't matter if
they were good movies or badly made cheap movies; he loved them all.  Every
weekend he would drag me and my brother Jeff to the living room and we
would watch the old movies he had bought.  We watched everything from large
budget MGM movies to lame movies like 'Hippy Scourge.' Jeff and I knew more
trivia about Hollywood than should be legal."

   "When my father passed away, he left the bulk of his estate to Jeff
because he's the oldest.  Jeff and I could live comfortably on our
inheritance, but we thought we could make more money if we took our
knowledge of films and made a magazine.  Out of the three that we started,
all of them flopped except for Screen Sirens.  It appears that people have
an insatiable appetite to learn about a beauty they only saw for twenty
minutes in a low budget movie.  Jeff was disappointed that instead of
owning the next 'People,' we were in charge of something that gets put
beside Star Trek magazines in bookstores.  He still runs the magazine, but
I end up doing most of the interviews and editing."

   She seemed satisfied by this and asked me another question.

   "You must meet a lot of pretty women-- do you sleep with them?"

   I choked on my soda.

   "No," I said, drawing out the word to buy me some time.  "Half of the
women I interview are now in their sixties.  They usually bake some cookies
when I come over and talk about how lucky we are to have color television.
The other group appear only on cable, or in the bikini section of a video
store.  Those women are pretty if you don't mind the silicone or facelifts.
The younger women range from the bitchy to the very nice, but I've never
tried to hit on them.  In fact, Julie Smith once gave me a rare interview
because of my reputation of being quote-- 'a sweetie.'"

   Estrella nodded her head knowingly and relaxed.  "Oh, so you're gay."

   "No," I corrected.  "I have manners, there's a difference."

   My inquisitor seemed content with these answers.  Her body language
relaxed considerably, and I felt she had finally become comfortable.  Since
she had put down the microphone, I decided to go on with the interview.

   "Can you tell me what it was like to be dangling twenty feet above a
snake pit wearing a swimsuit in 'The Masked Avenger versus the KGB'?" I
asked.

   Her forehead creased in confusion.

   "I don't remember that," she said.

   "OK," I said.  "How about you explain what it was like when you were a
zombie slave to the space men."

   "I'm not sure what you're talking about," she said.  You could see the
concentration on her face and I felt sorry for her.  She was trying so hard
to be tough, cool and helpful at the same time, but I think she had no idea
what the hell I was talking about.

   "You've never actually seen any of your movies, have you?" I asked.

   "No," she said quietly.  "I'm sorry if I have wasted your time, but I
was eighteen when I worked in those, and I've never seen them advertised
anywhere." It was amazing how quickly I wanted to comfort her.

   "Hey, that's all right," I said.  "I read all the time about how Mexican
film makers sometimes distribute their films years after they make them.  I
should have thought about that earlier." She smiled kindly at me for that.
It was the first genuine emotion she had given me that wasn't at my
expense. That's the only reason I had the audacity to do what I did next.

   "You know what would be a great idea?" I asked her.  "What if I showed
you the three movies you made and I could get your reaction to them?  It
would be a great article about how Mexican films are made as well as a good
interview with a pretty lady."

   "I don't know," she said, brushing her hair back in a nervous gesture.
"I feel I do owe you something for these clothes."

   "Nonsense," I said quickly.  "The clothes are yours to keep.  I should
have asked if you had seen your movies before I agreed to take you
shopping. Your afternoon is already used up, so think of the clothes as
payment for your time already spent."

   "I have plans for tonight," she said, her mind made up, "but I don't go
to work till five tomorrow.  We can watch some of them tomorrow morning."

   "Great," I said.  "I have copies of all three in my RV, we can go to the
campsite I'm staying at and watch them there.  I'll even barbecue
something."

   "Campsite?" she asked.  "Where is it?"

   When I told her how nearby it was, she relaxed.  It was good to know she
didn't trust me enough to go somewhere deserted.  It meant she didn't think
of me as "sweet".  It's funny how important that was to me.

   The rest of the day was spent telling her about some of my odder
interviews.  My story about Betty Goodman's pet shop bored her, the story
about Wendy Taylor's attack dogs appealed to her sense of malice, while my
story about Dana Gere's angry boyfriend mistaking me for another boyfriend
amused her the most.  Estrella asked me many questions I didn't expect. 
She asked about how I found certain people, and what questions did I ask
when I had to ask something embarrassing.  I found myself opening up to
her; she had a real knack for keeping me talking, as well as interrogating
someone pleasantly.  I told her everything she wanted to know, including
some secrets that I should have kept to myself.  It was one of the best
days I had ever spent without getting naked.

   No doubt about it: I had it really, really bad.

   The Top Five Things Greg Had to Hide or Clean Up in His RV for
Estrella's Visit.

   1.  The stains on the ceiling from where the Alfredo exploded.

   2.  The 'Nude woman' novelty remote for my VCR.

   3.  My life-sized autographed poster of Julie Strain.

   4.  The autographed brassiere of Mamie van Doren.

   5.  A week's worth of laundry.

   At nine o'clock in the morning, Estrella promptly arrived at the
campsite.  My RV was sparkling from the cleaning job I gave it, and
Estrella was visibly relieved by the tidiness of my home.  Women always
expect my RV to be some dark cave of fandom.  That's what it is most of the
time, but there's no sense in letting them know that.

   Estrella was dressed less conservatively this time, which I hoped meant
that she was actually warming up to me.  She had a simple white shirt that
was more shapely than anything I had seen her wear to date.  She was also
wearing a brown skirt that came just short of her knees.  Her hair was
down, falling in an even split around her lovely face.  Although my nose is
usually quite insensitive, the smell of her perfume was intoxicating.

   "Oh my God," I thought to myself.  Are we on a date?

   I had popped some popcorn and bought a wide assortment of sodas.  After
offering Estrella her choice, we sat down on my sofa to watch the first of
her movies.  I sat next to her, but I still kept a respectable distance. 
No matter how much of a crush I might have on Estrella, I wasn't going to
risk her misinterpreting any signals.  I set my audio recorder to keep a
record of Estrella's observations, as well as a sort of chaperone for us.

   The first movie we watched was "The Masked Avenger Vs the KGB." Ten
minutes into the movie, right after the scene when Estrella is bathing
topless in the lake and the KGB agents grab her, my beautiful movie
companion has this observation.

   "I can't believe how much this movie sucks," she said quite plainly.

   "Yes," I agreed slowly.  "But you bring the movie a bit of class."

   Estrella looked honestly at me with those intense brown eyes.  I started
laughing at the same time she did.

   "I am so sorry," I said when the laughter subsided.  "I never laugh at
someone's movies, they usually put so much work into them.  I really don't
mean to belittle your time in the movies."

   "It's all right," she consented.  "When I made these, I just wanted to
get my break and become famous.  I was hired by a guy who came into my town
and was looking for girls.  They told me that I had natural acting talent.
Now I know what they meant by natural; they meant my chest."

   I shook my head.

   "That's what they might have been thinking when you got hired, but you
have more talent than that.  You had so much energy, and the camera caught
all of it.  There aren't five actresses I can name who would try so hard to
come across as believable when you were frolicking in the pond."

   I rewound the movie and paused it.

   "Check out that smile," I said.  "You've got this very happy, very warm
smile that says that you are thrilled to be topless in the pond.  Most
women don't bother to act when they're topless, they know their breasts
will do most of the work.  That is what is so enjoyable about watching your
movies, you're the only one acting."

   Estrella threw some more popcorn into those full lips.

   "Thank you, I was just trying my best," she said kindly.

   "It shows," I said.

   We got back to watching the movie.  After twenty minutes of Estrella's
young captive body being threatened by the KGB, the Masked Avenger made his
first appearance.  He runs up to the KGB agents, and without any dialogue,
begins kicking their ass.  All the money they saved on hiring non-actors
must have gone into their stunt men.  Body slams, flips and vicious
headbutts were the arsenal of the Masked Avenger, as well as a two-by-four
that really didn't belong by a lake.

   "So, who was the Masked Avenger?" I asked Estrella.

   "It was the director's father," she said and I nearly choked on a
kernel.

   "It's true," she insisted.  "It was cheaper that way, and the old man
was very nice."

   "Yeah, I'm sure he was nice," I said, "but what about all those
wrestling moves?"

   Estrella shrugged and said, "I don't know, but he was very well muscled.
All the girls wanted to be near him.  I thought he was sweet, but I didn't
like how he kept touching my chest in every scene.  I forgave him though;
at his age, I think you should make allowances."

   That's the first time I ever wished I was an octogenarian.

   We watched more of the movie.  The plot was pretty simple.  These KGB
agents wanted to kidnap the flower of Mexican youth and transport them back
to Russia for experiments.  The Masked Avenger was only there to kick ass.
That's what I appreciate about Mexican action films from the Seventies;
they have a real purity in their simplicity.  As the Masked Avenger engaged
in yet another battle royal, I asked Estrella what she thought of the movie
so far.

   "If I hadn't have had such high hopes when I made this movie, I would
think it was the funniest piece of shit I had ever seen," she answered.

   "What hopes did you have?" I asked as kindly as possible.

   "No," she said after a moment's pause.  "You'll think it's silly."

   "Wrong," I corrected as I paused the movie again.  "I think a masked
wrestler fighting Russian agents who never have a gun is silly.  When you
did this movie you must have had better aspirations than taking your top
off every ten minutes."

   "Don't be so sure," she laughed, her mood changing as her eyes flashed.
"I looked pretty good back then, much better than all the other girls who
tried out.  I didn't even need a bra."

   "As much as I would love to hear about auditions with naked girls," I
said with a smile, "I still want to know what you had hoped to do."

   She smiled sadly.  "I wanted to be a detective, and solve crimes on
television like Nancy Drew."

   I nearly jumped out of my seat.  "That would have been a great idea!" I
said, the possibilities bouncing in my head.  "With your big expressive
eyes, and natural acting enthusiasm, it would have been fantastic.  I can
just see you going from crime to crime, no one taking the Hispanic beauty
seriously until you solve the murder in the end.  You would be believable
as both a brain and a beauty."

   Estrella listened to me ramble, and so wrapped up was I in the crime
show that never was, I didn't notice her lovely tanned skin blushing until
her whole face was red.  Embarrassed for myself nearly as much as I was for
her, I stopped my pitch for her series.  Good thing, too; I'm not sure how
she would have liked my idea for a kid reporter sidekick.

   "Wow, you really think it could have worked?" she asked.  "I thought it
would be fun to be a Hispanic girl who was smart and helped people.  So
much different from all the maids and bar sluts I see now."

   "Estrella," I said as I looked her straight in the eye.  "You had too
much acting ability and charisma to be only a victim in these movies.  I
honestly think it was damn shame you didn't get a chance with your
detective show."

   "Modesta," she said, and I frowned in confusion.  "My name is Modesta
Mendoza.  Estrella was my sister's name, and I was always jealous of it."

   "I don't know why, Modesta is a very pretty name in itself," I said. 
"It means modesty, right?"

   She nodded, and I sort of nodded, and there we were.  The real name of
an actress is something very sacred.  Most guys will obsess forever over
finding out what a woman's name really is.  I learned a long time ago that
asking a woman her real name is just about as personal as asking what color
underwear she has on.  I almost never ask, but when it's offered freely,
you should consider it just as much an honor as being flashed.  In other
words, I was feeling mighty good at this unexpected intimacy, and I had no
idea what to do next.  After a minute of nodding, I flipped the movie back
on.



   We watched more of the terrible movie.  We paused a few times to discuss
an interesting character or an unbelievable plot contrivance.  Modesta
lightened up and began enjoying the movie for what it was--a really
horrible attempt at a motion picture.  She no longer blushed when her
character's shirt came off.  At one point we counted down how long she
would keep a bikini top on.  By the time the movie was over, we were both
exhausted and hoarse from laughing so much.

   "I am almost afraid to ask which movie is next," Modesta said as I
changed the tapes.

   "You should be afraid," I said.  "It's the 'Masked Avenger Vs the
Vampires.' It's the only time I have ever seen vampires who knew kung-fu."

   She laughed, and then the laughter faded as she remembered.

   "Oh shit," she said giggling.  "You're right.  This is the movie with
the Vampire Ninjas that are Aztecs."

   "Yeah, these movies were great at cross breeding genres," I said as I
settled back into the sofa.

   "I'm sure the director was interested in international relationships
when he flashed my chest at every body.  Would anybody have watched these
if didn't have set of natural 38C breasts?"

   My underwear became uncomfortably smaller as I thought of a response. 
Any reference to her wonderful attributes would have paralyzed me, but
being told this tidbit by the woman herself was an intriguing turn-on. 
Seeking to remain a gentleman and not give a snappy one-liner like my
brother would, I desperately changed the subject.

   "What I've noticed is your accent," I said.  "These movies were made in
Mexico but aimed at an American audience, so you had to speak English. 
Talking to you now, I would never guess you weren't American, with your
perfect English."

   "Oh, that's nothing amazing," she answered.  "I moved here after getting
married when I was twenty to one of the camera men.  After he ran off with
our landlady, I stayed here rather than go back to my home town a divorced
woman.  I also was embarrassed because I told everyone at home that I was
going to be a big star in America.  Rather than get humiliated at home, I
stayed in this town and found some work.  I usually work at the school
library, this waitress job is just something I do in the summer until
school starts back up.  At least in America I could get my hands on a lot
more books than I could back home."

   "Why kind of books do you read?" I asked, doing my part to change the
conversation from her divorce.

   "Mysteries," She answered.  "I can't get that many here in this small
town, but I take a trip to San Fen every month and grab a choice few."

   Then she listed her favorite authors, names I certainly didn't
recognize. My father had ruined me for books with his movie collection; the
closest I can get to a book is a comic book.  I nodded politely, and tried
to merge the image of the bookworm Modesta with the image of busty
Estrella. It just made her all the more real to me.

   This movie was just as bad as the last one, and just as much fun to
watch.  The plot was the same.  Some Aztec Vampire Ninjas were intent on
capturing young women for evil breeding plans.  The Masked Avenger would
then ride up in his sleek Mustang and kick everybody's ass.  Modesta would
get topless often, the Vampires would be strangely vulnerable to body
slams, and, in the end, the Masked Avenger would wave to everybody and ride
off.  It was a completely entertaining piece of crap.

   During the movie, Modesta and I never stopped talking.  She told me
about the fangs that kept falling out of the Vampires' mouths, related the
story of how they had a teenage kid spying at the women's dressing trailer
and of course, how the Masked Avenger kept offering to bounce her on his
knee.  Modesta couldn't tell me enough of her experiences.  She was digging
up and enjoying parts of her life that she hadn't thought of in twenty
years.  I can't tell you how proud I was of myself for making a bad part of
her life something she could laugh about now.  It was the best thing I
could do to pay her back for being one of my favorite actresses.

   "Oh shit!" Modesta snapped right as the movie ended.  "I'm going to be
late for work!"

   It was tru;, with all the pausing and talking, we had turned two movies
into a six hour event.

   "I am so sorry," I said as I jumped up with her.

   "Don't be," she said as put her shoes back on.  When did she take them
off?

   "I had a great time," she said, and that simple compliment made my day.

   "When I get off work tonight, can we see the other two movies?" Modesta
asked.

   "Sure," I stammered.

   "Great," she said, and then she kissed me on the cheek.  With a 'Masked
Avenger' wave, perfectly imitated from the movie, she left.

   As for me, I was still in heaven from having her lips on my cheek.  I
simply waved as she left, and then wondered if I would be able to stay in
the same room with her without overheating.  I was in serious danger of
ruining my journalistic integrity.  Worse, I was in danger of making a pass
on a woman whose trust I had just managed to earn.  Even worse, I was in
danger of NOT making a pass.  I was confused, but happy.

   I rewound the audio tape, partially to begin on writing my interview,
but really just so I could relive the best date I've had in a while.  I
felt bad for making her late for work, and I felt great for making her
laugh for so long.  A total mess, I stopped working on my article, and just
thought about how I loved watching her laugh lines appear on her face. 
Without a doubt, I had it bad, and it was great.

   Listening to her talk on the tape, I came up with a great idea.  I fired
up the RV and took off for San Fen.  The drive helped me calm down, but
only a little.  I respected Modesta too much to screw up what little
friendship we had.  By the time I arrived at the San Fen mall, I was
rational, cool, and no longer caught in the heat of the moment.  It didn't
stop me from buying every mystery novel in the bookstore though.  I knew
just what authors to get, since I had on tape which ones she liked.  Just
because I didn't think Modesta was coming on to me was no reason not to buy
her a gift for such a great day.

   Eighty books were rather expensive, but that's what a company credit
card is for.  I made up several excuses for the bill I knew my brother
would be getting, not that I was that concerned.  I was more worried about
how I was going to leave a ton of books on Modesta's doorstep.  A spare box
I use to keep canned food in became a great package for her mystery novels.
I wrote my name on the box, and taped it up.

   After leaving my tribute to my local Movie Goddess, I drove back to my
campsite.  Doing such an obvious display of affection, no matter how much I
could play it down as a gesture of friendship, had terrified the shit out
of me.  Sure, I liked Modesta, but what if she thought I was coming on to
her?  Caught in the terrible insecurity that defines life, I took an early
nap.  If Modesta was coming back, I wanted to be rested for another movie
marathon.  My dreams had other ideas.

   Top Five Movies Greg Wants to See Modesta Star In

   1.  Modesta, Secret Agent in Her Majesty's Secret Service

   2.  The Modesta Drew Mysteries

   3.  The Maltese Modesta

   4.  Modesta vs The Hound of the Baskervilles

   5.  Deep Throat

   My alarm was set for an hour before Modesta got free from work.  Plenty
of time to take an RV cold shower, get some fresh clothes, and microwave
something to eat.  By the time Modesta's diner closed, I was ready to
receive my guest.  I had also taken care of my frustrations manually so I
wouldn't get any more silly ideas about her coming on to me.  Being a
reporter for a movie beauty magazine has given me the hornies before, but I
was determined to be a perfect gentleman for her return.

   As it turns out, I had plenty of time.  The appointed time came and
passed, and I was wondering if she was even coming.  I knew she had my
cellphone number, so if she was delayed she could have called me.  With
each minute that went by, I thought of a dozen reasons why she would have
canceled our date.  Maybe she was too tired from work?  Maybe she freaked
out from all the books I bought her?  Maybe she realized she didn't want to
be at a campsite with a scary fanboy?

   A knock on the door startled me and elated me at the same time.  Rushing
to answer it, I almost flung the door open, but I managed to control
myself. What I couldn't control was my jaw when I saw how Modesta was
dressed this time.

   She was simply stunning.  Her hair had the half wet look of someone who
just drove from a shower.  A little makeup was on her already perfect face,
just a touch of black above her deep brown eyes.  The smile she gave me was
dazzling and warm, framed by tiny wrinkles that revealed the maturity of
her happiness.

   Her choice in clothes was far different from anything I had seen of her
so far.  Instead of the loose fitting blouses and T-shirts, she was wearing
a tight black tanktop that was tucked into her shorts.  The shorts were a
treat in themselves, covering only half of her tanned dark thighs.  I
wouldn't imagine a woman of her age looking so good in them if I hadn't
have seen it myself.  The legs were as defined, long and sexy as they were
in her first movie.

   I had the distinct impression that she was not a bit upset over my gift.

   "Sorry I took so long," she said.  "but I had to get the smell of the
restaurant out of my clothes and hair.  I hate smelling like hamburger
grease."

   "That's fine, I'm just glad you came," I said as I let her into my home.
I was completely unprepared for the hug she gave me.

   "Thank you so much for buying all those books," she said as I happily
melted into her arms.  "That was so nice of you!  I'm going to be spoiled
now with so much to read."

   "Good, I could get used to spoiling you," I said and then instantly
regretted.  Was it too forward?

   "I like being spoiled," Modesta teased and then she sat right down in
the middle of my sofa.  "What are we watching next?"



   "We can finish up your Masked Avenger movies with 'The Masked Avenger Vs
the Space Men,' I said as I looked for a safe place to sit on the sofa.

   Modesta refused to move, so I sat right next to her.  Ever been so
attracted to someone that you knew every inch of where your bodies were
touching?  That's how I was for thirty wonderful minutes as we watched the
movie.  We joked around, ate our popcorn and laughed like we did earlier,
but now there was the added excitement of actually touching Modesta.  That
might sound silly, but keep in mind that I've had mild and not so mild
fantasies about Estrella for almost ten years.  Touching knees was one of
those details I never knew could be so enjoyable.

   In the movie, Estrella had already lost her top once when the Space Men
attacked.  We were counting down her second topless scene, and making bets
on when it would happen.  I had the edge because, well, I do own the movie.
Starting backward from a count of twenty, I had my timing down perfect.

   Right as the Space Men pulled up on Estrella's top, Modesta, beside me,
slipped her hand beside my cheek.  Confused, but still counting, I was
pulled towards a kiss as I whispered, "One."

   My lips pressed against Modesta's, I was in heaven, though I had no idea
how I got there.  My lips didn't mind.  As Modesta parted my lips with her
tongue, I gave in to the dream.  I kissed her back, holding her head in my
hands as our tongues dueled with each other.  Her hand stayed on my cheek,
while her other hand touched my chest, seeking the rapid beating of my
heart.



   When we both had to stop for air, questions poured from my lips.

   "What was that for?" I asked between pants.

   "It's for making me feel like I was eighteen again," she whispered
almost sadly.  "It's for making me feel important for things that are not
really important but were important to me.  It's for being nice to me
without ever asking for anything or trying to hit on me.  It's also because
you do the nicest things for no reason.  Now don't ask me any more
questions and kiss me again."

   How could I refuse?  This time I was slower, and I took the time to
taste the outside of her lips.  I pulled softly at her lips with my lips,
taking my time to enjoy the soft fullness of her mouth.  She took one of my
hands and placed it on her thigh, and that was all the encouragement I
needed there.  My lips drank fully of the salt of her mouth, while my hand
massaged her thighs just as passionately.  The muscles under her legs were
just as strong and shapely as they ever were on the movies.

   After a dozen lifetimes, Modesta broke our kiss.  When she tilted her
head back, my lips followed the sensuous curve of her neck.  Affectionate
kisses were showered on her chin, her neck and down to her clavicle.  The
scent of her perfume led me to kiss deliriously around the base of her
neck, leading up to her ears.  Modesta moaned loudly as my lips worshipped
her, her hands gripping the back of my head.

   When my lips were bruised and my breath was ragged from the intoxicating
taste of her skin, she pushed my head back with another loud moan.  My
protests died on my lips as Modesta pulled her shirt off.  Her generous
breasts were constrained by a sheer black brassiere, and she removed that
too soon for me to appreciate the glory of that sight.

   As soon as her brown globes were free of their lace prison, Modesta
pulled my head into her bosom.  I didn't need encouragement-- my mouth
longed to suck at the brown tips of her nipples.  Although her breast had
lost the firmness of youth, their sheer size was still awesome.  I used my
hands to cup the soft treasures, and I lifted them back to their former
glory.  Modesta was moaning loudly again as I buried myself into her dark
flesh and I was glad that we were at an empty campsite.

   Softer than cream, and salty from the Texas heat, her breasts were a
delight for my mouth.  I traced stretch marks with my tongue, and
discovered how wonderfully sensitive they were to her.  My lips tugged at
her nipples frequently; I was unable to resist those dark points of
pleasure.  Sometimes I would fall deeply into her cleavage and enjoy the
encompassing feel of her skin all around my face.  My tongue flicked at her
chest beneath her cleavage, touching that well defended and distant place.

   Modesta pushed me back again, and I gave her my largest smile.

   "Are they as good as they were in the movies?" she asked with a wicked
smile.  she knew full well what my answer would be.

   "Better," I replied, and I meant it.

   "Here's something you won't see in my movies," she said as she
unbuttoned my pants.

   Knelling between my legs, Modesta pulled my pants and underwear free,
tossing them to my recently cleaned floor.  My cock was already stiff and
solid when she held me in her hands, but she stroked me with her thumb
anyway.  Looking at my cock with a playful curiosity, Modesta ran her
fingers along the length down to my scrotum.  I shivered as her fingernails
traced out the little wrinkles on my balls.



   When I had suffered enough from her teasing, Modesta raised herself
above my knees.  Letting her breasts settle on my thighs, she guided my
cock into her smiling lips.  I looked deep into her brown eyes as I felt
her mouth encompass me.  Slowly her eyes closed, and her head began to
move. I sank into my sofa as Modesta's breasts and hair covered my lap.  Up
and down, left and right, twisting and turning, her mouth gave an
Oscar-worthy performance in the World's Greatest Blowjob.  Within five
minutes, I was ready to explode.

   "Hold on," I managed to gasp.  "Let's go to the bed."

   A smile and a last teasing lick at the tip of my cock was her response
as she stood up.  We both undressed quickly, and my shirt and her shorts
fell together on the floor.  My bed was in the back and I was glad that I
actually had clean sheets this week.  Modesta playfully jumped onto my bed
with a splash, face down, her glorious buttocks jiggling with just enough
fat to make me want to jump in after her.

   With my immediate orgasm in mind, I needed to stall.  I crawled in bed
after her, and kissed her lovely ass.  Modesta moaned but stayed on her
stomach while I invented a new kind of worship for her.  My hands touched
her, kneading and massaging as I dealt with my own disbelief that I was
actually touching her nude body.  Her back was a sultry dark color that I
couldn't resist showering with kisses.  On Modesta's back I wrote my own
script for our lovemaking with kisses, nibbles and roaming massages.

   "No more," she said, and before I could respond, she lifted her lovely
ass slightly from the bed.  Not one to refuse such a beautiful invitation,
I placed myself between her spread knees.  I couldn't help notice the
already damp spot on the bed as I guided my cock into the sweet sensation
of her liquid heat.  Straddling her from head to toe, I thrusted gently
into Modesta as she lay under me.

   Modesta's moans quickly transformed to screams, loud piercing wails that
made me feel like an awesome God of Manhood.  Each tiny thrust from me
would result in another RV shaking scream from the lovely woman beneath me.
I bent my head down to kiss her neck as my hips rubbed gently into her
buttocks and Modesta reached forward to grip my bedstead with savage fury.
Her screams increased until finally she stopped moving beneath me and just
let out one loud shriek of pleasure.  When her body shuddered afterwards,
my cock reached the end of his endurance and exploded as well.  Raised on
my arms, I gave my own cry of happiness as I emptied myself into Modesta.

   The tension of the past few days relieved, I cuddled closer to Modesta.
Happily we remained in each other's arms, languishing in the Texas heat of
the night.

   "I didn't see that coming," I said after happy age of holding her.

   "I know," she responded.  "That's what made you so attractive.  You've
made me laugh at myself in a good way, as well as being really nice about
something I used to be ashamed of.  When I left here tonight, I really felt
proud of my movies for the first time in ages, even if it was just pride in
a really funny bad movie.  When I saw that you had bought me all those
books, I knew it was because you were being nice and not because you were
expecting anything."

   She lazily ran her fingers across my chest and I shivered.  Then she
continued.

   "I had all these mixed feelings," she said.  "you have been really
sweet, and I enjoyed the few days we've spent together.  I knew you had to
be leaving soon, so I decided to give you something you might have wanted
but were never going to ask for.  Of course, it also had the added bonus of
making love to a really great guy."

   Although flattered, I was also worried.

   "You mean this is just a one time event?" I asked as I held her closer.
"Modesta, you are more than just a crush I had for a movie star.  After
meeting you in the flesh, I found Modesta the woman to be far more
fascinating than Estrella the movie star.  I can't stop thinking about you,
and my whole day just glows whenever you are around.  You're smart,
extremely grounded in reality, and you have the best sense of humor I've
seen in a person.  It says plenty about a person when they can laugh about
themselves."

   "What I was hoping," I said as my heart began pounding out of my chest,
"is that you would consider quitting your job and maybe come with me when I
go back home.  I could get you a job in our magazine, and you could still
pay the rent on your place here while we got to know one another back home.
I'm thrilled we had sex, but what I really want is to spend as much time
with you as possible."

   Modesta raised herself up and looked at me, stunned, with those big
brown eyes.

   "Greg, I'm old enough to be your mother," she said like it would make a
difference.

   "Modesta, you are young enough for me to fall in love with," I said with
all my heart.

   She softened and kissed me.  After another sexy ten minutes of kissing,
she looked at me a conflict of emotions on her face.

   "As rich as you are, and as old as I am, do you know what they are going
to call me when we meet your brother?" she said.

   "If they want me to keep working for them, they better call you my
girlfriend," I said.

   She smiled and we kissed again.  It wasn't till an hour more of
lovemaking that she gave me my answer.

   It wasn't till after another hour of lovemaking that I went to her house
and helped her pack.

   The end.