14 comments/ 76172 views/ 23 favorites Fresh Off the Bus By: Fresh Off the Bus "That's terrible," Burton muttered. Burton was one of the few friends Parker had with some semblance of morals. He knew Burton would not necessarily approve of what he'd just said. "Someday I hope a girl breaks your heart." Parker grinned. "I'm sure it will happen and it's nothing less than what I deserve," he admitted, "and maybe it will change the way I am, but until then . . ." ". . . you might as well enjoy yourself," Burton finished. "Yes, we've heard that before." Charles asked, "You seeing her tonight?" "Fuck no," Parker stated emphatically. "She gets off at one and she'll be dead tired. She needs to be eager and rested the first time we go out. I'll call her in the morning and take her out tomorrow night." Burton sighed. "Where to?" he asked, changing the subject and referring not to where Parker would take his next innocent young conquest, but rather to where the three men themselves would go next on this particular night. "Luna," Parker decided, always the one to take the reins. Luna was a bar that catered to the young and hip entertainment and celebrity crowd. On any given night there were likely to be several aspiring models, wannabe actresses, hopeful singer-songwriter babes, and a smattering of actual famous people. Parker was not looking to get laid, but he was looking to down a few quality cocktails and Luna had one of the best selections around. He would fend off the trim that was sure to recognize him and maybe get one of them to slop off onto Charles or Burton. Maybe not, he thought with a grin. * * * It was nearing two in the morning when Amberly trudged up the steps to the door of her apartment after an evening of work. She did not mind her job (it paid the bills) but sometimes she liked it more than others and at the moment, with her back aching and her feet killing her, she liked it not so much. She opened the door and flipped on the lights, and a loud shriek echoed across the hardwood floor as two bodies hurled themselves up and off the couch and scrambled around in search of their clothes. "Oh my gosh!" Amberly gasped as she covered her eyes, a deep red blush spreading across her cheeks as an embarrassed giggle slipped past her lips. Unfortunately, there were three images that would remain etched in her brain for some time: first, the sight of her roommate, Betty, on her hands and knees on the couch, naked with her boyfriend behind her, her face going from absolute pleasure to absolute shock as she realized she was caught having sex; second, the sight of Betty's boyfriend, Brian, jumping off that same couch and the way his hard cock, glistening with the juices of the girl, wobbled in the open air; and third, the sight of Betty's breasts as they jiggled and bounced before she covered herself up. "Amberly!" Betty cried after a moment when both she and Brian had their intimates covered. "What are you doing home so early?" Amberly giggled again, but did not dare look up at them for fear of breaking out laughing completely. "Uh, Betty, honey," she said, "it's almost two o'clock in the morning." "Whoa," said Brian, who was admittedly not the brightest of bulbs, "we've been fucking for, like, three hours? Awesome!" This particular bit of news came as little surprise to Amberly, who after two months was well-versed on the nocturnal habits and appetites of her roommate. Still, three hours was quite a long time, particularly to someone (like Amberly) who at just barely nineteen years of age had not had that much experience with great sex. She was not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, but what she'd gleaned from eighteen year-old boys in barn lofts and back seats in Tennessee was not quite like how she imagined a knowledgeable California man would perform in comfortable, bedroom-set, parent-free surroundings. It was one of the things she was looking forward to learning about (once she found the right guy) now that she was out on her own in the big city. Her mind fluttered back to the boy she'd met at the restaurant that very night, who was super cute and seemed decent enough, but after a string of failed dates, Amberly knew that in Los Angeles, things were not always what they seemed at first. She would proceed slowly and cautiously, but at least she was intrigued at the start, which was more than most men got. Betty giggled. "Three hours," she repeated dreamily, "and I'm still horny. Come on, big boy, let's finish this round in the bedroom. Sorry about the surprise, Amberly." Amberly lowered her hand and looked up . . . just in time to witness the tight little bottom of her roommate wiggle as the girl scurried down the hall behind her similarly naked boyfriend, both of them headed eagerly for the bedroom and the continuation of their rendezvous. When the door was closed and the living room was quiet, Amberly sighed and made her way back to her own bedroom. She needed a hot shower, she decided, and so she stripped off her clothes as she bee-lined right for the bathroom and stepped under the spray as soon as it was warm enough. Her thoughts drifted. It had not been a particularly smooth four months. In fact, the only things that had gone even halfway right had been meeting and moving in with Betty in August and getting her job at the Apple Dish three weeks earlier. Other than that, not much success. Fresh off the bus from Tennessee, Amberly had dreams big as lights and eyes wide with potential and possibility: she was going to be an actress! She had brought along all of her savings, which she knew would help her last for awhile without needing to find other employment. She found a dinky little month-to-month studio apartment (just big enough for the bed, the bathroom, her clothes and herself) in Hollywood and started culling the trades and newspapers for casting calls and audition notices. Her excitement and enthusiasm knew no bounds. She swiftly learned, however, that having an agent was essential; she came across the name of an older gentleman by the name of Henry Talent, owner of the Talent Talent Agency, the name of which intrigued her, and so she set up a meeting and went in to see him. Henry was not what you might call a kindly old man. His white hair was frazzled and he talked a mile a minute, rarely allowing room for words in edgewise. He seemed aggressive and confident, and although Amberly did not really like him that much as a person, he seemed qualified to do a good job as her agent. "Where you from, kid?" was the first thing he asked when she sat down in the chair in his office. His office was cramped and crowded and cluttered with thousands of loose papers, unlabeled files and assorted bits of movie memorabilia. "Tennessee," Amberly had replied. He studied her for a moment, which was really the only moment he was not either talking or waiting for her response. Then he said, "You're gorgeous. Kind of a sexed-up girl-next-door thing going on. Good! Wanna be an actress, eh?" Amberly beamed. "Yes!" The man grinned and ruffled some papers. "Enthusiasm," he noted. "Good! Might need it for certain auditions. Experience?" Amberly handed him her resume, which included several school plays and a couple of local commercials and modeling jobs back home. She was limited in that department, she knew, but everyone had to start somewhere. Henry glanced at it and thrust it into a file. "Not gonna matter much with a face like yours. Available during the day? Job? Husband? Kids?" "No." "Commercials? Movies? Television?" She replied with a shy smile, "Movies, if possible, although I'll take anything I can get at first." The eyes of the man narrowed and he looked at her again. "Measurements?" "Measurements?" she repeated. "Chest. Waist. Hips. Height. Cup. Dress. Yada blah etcetera." "Oh," she stammered, a little embarrassed. She was not sure why such information was necessary, but he was the one who knew what he was doing. "Well, uh, 34 chest, 24 waist, 34 hips. I'm 5'9. I'm actually, uh, a D-cup, but on the smaller side. My dress size is four." "Good," the man stated. "Very good! Pictures?" She sheepishly handed him her photos. "Not very professional," she admitted. He took the pictures and shoved them into the file, then scribbled on a piece of paper on his and handed it to her. "Call Fritz," he told her. "Get better photos. My secretary will show you the contract. Read it! Work out. Eat right. Don't get fat. Don't do blow. That's all." And that was the extent of her first meeting with Henry Talent. And so at the request of her agent (and how amazing it had been to think of it like that: she had an agent!) she called up Fritz the photographer and set up an appointment for the following day. Things were moving so fast, she thought to herself at the time, and everything was exciting. The studio of Fritz was basically the guy's apartment, a loft-style pad in Hollywood with a black back-drop set up in one corner. Fritz himself was a middle-aged German man who could not keep the whole of himself still: at any given moment either his foot was tapping or his hands were shaking or his body was swaying, something was moving. If she had not been so excited about the whole thing, she might have thought him comical. "'Enry sent you," he said when he opened the door. His accent was heavily German. "Ze man is so good to me, you know. He sends me anozzer beautiful flower. Come!" There were several rounds of him taking her picture. She had worn a tight pink tee-shirt and jeans, very natural and comfortable clothes, and he seemed to really like them. There were some close-up head-shots and some mid-length ones and some full-length shots, and the atmosphere was easy and breezy and fun, which she appreciated. And then he said, "Ok . . . now off." Amberly frowned. She was standing in the middle of the backdrop with two lights trained on her and Fritz facing her with his camera, looking at her expectantly. Was he asking her to leave? She did not know. "Your clothes," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Off with ze clothes." Amberly was stunned and clutched her arms to her chest. "You want me to undress? Naked?" Fritz threw his hand up exasperatedly. "No, no, no, silly girl," he chided. "Bra and panties, keep. No jeans. No shirt. You bring no bikini, yes? Must show skin." Amberly was still somewhat in shock, but his explanation did make some sense. She had not known she was supposed to bring a bikini. After a few moments of hesitation and more to curb the increasing annoyance of Fritz than out of real comfort with what she was doing, she decided to do it and shimmied out of her jeans and shirt. Thankfully, she had worn a tasteful blue bra and her panties were not too skimpy. Fritz sighed as he looked upon her. "Beautiful," he said, almost to himself as he raised the camera to his eye. "Lower arms . . . good . . . beautiful . . . beautiful . . . breasts very nice . . . lovely legs . . . yes, good . . . beautiful . . ." And so it had gone for another twenty minutes or so as Fritz took her through some additional poses. There were a couple poses that she refused (he asked her to get on her hands and knees and crawl away from the camera) and he acquiesced with a sly grin and without complaint. Looking back now as the hot water of the shower coursed over her skin, she wondered just how much of the session was necessary. Her portfolio consisted of only ten of the hundreds of pictures taken: three head-shots, five clothed pictures of varying scope and two of the unclothed pictures, one tasteful and one a little more risqué (her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up and together). In any case, there was nothing she could do about it now. Henry had liked the photos. "Much better, kid," he said to her over the phone two days later. "Hot photos mean more auditions. I sent them out and we'll see what sticks." Her first audition came a week later, which was exactly twenty-six days after she arrived in Los Angeles. Looking back, it was quite a bit of time, but she was so caught up in everything she did not even really notice how fast it was flying. During the days she traveled around the city, seeing the sights, exploring, completely amazed at its size and scope, or lounging on the beach as she basked in the perfect summer weather of southern California. The morning of her first audition, however, she was a nervous wreck. She woke up super early and took a long time getting herself ready, making herself look perfect, every hair in its place, every stitch of make-up pristine. By the time she was walking out the door of her apartment, though, she had calmed down dramatically and was energized and excited to go out and capture her dreams. She was ready to razzle and dazzle the casting people. She arrived fifteen minutes ahead of the time she was supposed to arrive and navigated her way through a series of stairs and hallways to an unmarked blue door on the third floor. She assumed it was the correct place because the directions had stated specifically that it would be a blue door without a label, which was odd, but then again she was not familiar with the whole process so maybe it was not that odd after all. She opened the door. There was a waiting room area with several chairs of varying comfort, as well as two longer couches. Six beautiful young women were scattered in seats around the room, each holding a little portfolio book and each looking very well put together. All six looked up as she entered, but only the gazes of two gave her more than a passing glance. Amberly walked in tentatively and made her way over to the glass window on the far side of the room. There was another attractive female sitting behind it, although she was somewhat older, dark-haired and not really that made-up. She also did not seem that nice. "Name?" the woman asked without much enthusiasm. "Amberly Faye, ma'am," she replied in her most pleasant voice. "Have a seat," the woman intoned. "We'll call you when we're ready." And so Amberly situated herself in one of the chairs and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. They were not moving very quickly, it seemed, as they called the first girl in twenty minutes after Amberly arrived. No girl exited, however, which meant there was some other door letting the girls out. The second girl followed thirty minutes after that, during which time another beautiful blonde girl arrived and took a seat in one of the chairs. The next two girls, thankfully, were much faster, lasting only five to ten minutes per, which meant there was only one girl left before Amberly took her turn. The last girl, however, was the longest. She was in there for nearly an hour. There were four others in the waiting room (all blonde, all beautiful) when Amberly finally got her chance. "Amberly Faye?" the girl behind the glass called. Amberly rose and smoothed out her skirt. She was wearing a white ruffled skirt that went down to mid-thigh and a fitted blue shirt cut a little low in the front, but still tasteful. She could feel her heart start to pound in her chest. She walked up to the door, opened it and walked through, and she wondered with a big and sweetly innocent grin if this was the start of her dreams coming true. There was another hallway, at the end of which was a man with a clipboard waving her towards him. When she reached him, he pointed to an open door and said, "In here, please." She entered and found a small room decorated as follows: a desk with a middle-aged man seated behind it; a couch against the far wall; a video camera mounted on a tripod, aimed at the couch; three shelves lined with books and files and papers and assorted other items; and several movie posters of varying size plastered across the walls. The man smiled at her as she entered and motioned for her to sit on the couch. "Your name is Amberly, is that right?" he asked. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of flab to him, and facial hair that was trimmed short and gave him a very furtive kind of look. His voice was deep and gravelly and not at all what she expected him to sound like. "Yes, sir," she replied simply. "Hi Amberly, I'm Eddie." He glanced down at a file. "From Henry, eh?" he said to himself, then looked up at her again. "This is your very first audition? Like, ever?" She smiled shyly. "Yes, sir." "How old are you, Amberly?" he asked. "I just turned nineteen," she revealed. The man considered. "Well, you're beautiful, which is a requirement of the part, and you're young enough. We're casting the role of Sorority Girl #2 in our latest horror movie. The role has eleven lines of dialogue and a death scene. The movie shoots in three weeks." He ruffled some pages, rose to his feet and walked around the desk to give her a single sheet, then he went to the camera, flipped its switch and turned to face her. "Please say the following lines of dialogue when you are ready." Amberly looked down at the page, read through the lines once, mustered her courage and barreled forward. It was not what she had been hoping for (horror movies were not good movies, in her opinion) and it was most certainly not Shakespeare, but it was something, at least, she decided. Everyone has to start somewhere, she reminded herself. "He's so hot," she said in her most girlish voice. "You should totally go for him. I've heard he's very good, too. I don't know what Shelly was thinking." "Good," the man said. "Now the next one, please." Amberly smiled, then nodded. Her confidence was building. She affected her girlish voice again as she said, "I'm all hot and sweaty from working out. I'm gonna take a shower. Anyone want to join me?" The line called for a giggle at the end, which she gave as sweetly as she could. "Very good," Eddie said with an admiring nod. "You're doing great. Now the last scene, which is the death scene, so you should play it like your terrified." Amberly nodded, took a breath and continued. "Is someone there?" she called out, her voice wavering. "Shelly? Shelly, that's not funny. Hello?" "Good," the man stated again. "Now, give me your best scream." She smiled shyly, loaded her lungs and belted out her best wail possible. "Wow!" Eddie exclaimed. "Great pipes. I'd definitely say you've got potential. You're exactly what we're looking for with this role. Now, if you could stand up, face the camera and take your clothes off, we'll finish up the audition." Amberly's joyful response to his words came crashing down around her. "My clothes?" she asked hesitantly. Eddie nodded. "Your clothes," he repeated. "Take them off and face the camera." Amberly sat still on the couch, not knowing what to do. Eddie sighed. "Look, the role requires nudity. It's a death scene in the shower, for chrissakes. You've got to show me your tits so I can see what I'm getting." "The role requires . . . nudity?" Her voice was low and disbelieving. He sighed again and went over to sit next to her on the couch. "You're new to the business so let me tell you how it works," he said in a soothing voice. "You've got an incredible body and a gorgeous face, and you're young. The easiest way for you to break into the business is to take a couple nude roles, get noticed." "I don't know that I'm comfortable with . . . that," Amberly said. She had never really even considered it, actually, and the thought of it now terrified her. What would her father think? Eddie put his arm over her shoulder and Amberly was so distraught she hardly even noticed what he was doing. "Look, Amberly," he said in a different kind of voice, "it's a tough business. I've already seen ten girls today, all of them beautiful. Granted, you've got them beat, but to get the role I have to see the goods. Unless . . . you want another role in the film . . . an important role . . . non-nude . . . we might be able to work something out . . . if you're willing . . ." Fresh Off the Bus She turned to him with eagerly hopeful eyes. "Oh, yes! What would you need me to do?" Eddie grinned. "Well, you could start by helping me out a little with this," he said, and she suddenly noticed what his other hand had been doing: his fly was down and his penis was out, and it was almost totally hard. Amberly gasped and jumped off the couch. "You want me to . . ." She could not even finish the sentence. "Help me out a little," he said simply, finishing for her. Her eyes filled with tears. This was not what she had expected to happen at all. "I have to go," she said suddenly as she snatched up her little book of photos. "I have to go." And so Amberly fled the site of her first audition, tears streaming down her cheeks, her rude awakening fully complete. She had called Henry straight away, who informed her that she had not told him she was against nudity, and that if she was not comfortable "showing her tits onscreen" he would find her other kinds of roles. He also told her that there would be some auditions run by sleazy casting directors looking only "to fuck young and desperate wannabe actresses" and to not let them bother her. As she now knew well, it was one of many customs highlighting the dirty side of show business. Amberly set about washing her hair then as she continued reminiscing. There had been many more auditions in the three months that had followed that first one and Henry was right: many casting people tried to get her to take her clothes off or give them blowjobs or even in some cases have sex with them, but there were also some who were good and decent and gave her chances at roles. She had not gotten any real work yet, however, and she was getting a little frustrated. She finished her shower and toweled herself off. As she was putting on her sleep clothes, which consisted of a tight white tee-shirt and white panties, she heard a gentle thumping and moaning echoing down the hall. Amberly giggled, then sighed: it was not the first time she had heard the sounds of Betty and Brian fucking, and she doubted it would be the last. The two were insatiable. They were very uninhibited and Betty had even hinted that they would been be fine with Amberly joining them, if she wanted to, which was flattering, she guessed, in some ways, but not really her thing. She was curious, yes, but she would prefer to have her own boyfriend for awhile and gain a little more experience before she jumped into something as wild as a threesome. Amberly crawled onto her bed and sprawled out on her back, and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a long day and she was content to relax and get a good night's sleep. She glanced to her left and saw her reflection in the full length mirror on her closet door, and examined what she saw. She did have a very nice body, she knew: she worked out pretty regularly and ate healthy food, and was also somewhat blessed in terms of her metabolism (which kept her skinny without much effort) and her natural curves (mostly in the form of her big tits). She was one of the lucky ones, her mother had always told her. Lying on her bed as she was, her tanned legs (much browner now than when she had arrived) were extended to their full long length and her breasts stretched the fabric of her shirt. It was a pretty sexy look, she had to admit, and she wondered what the boy from the restaurant would have thought if he'd seen her like this. The sounds of sex grew louder then suddenly (Betty was screaming, it seemed) and Amberly suddenly began to feel a little frisky: she was beginning to feel very warm, indeed. She watched in the mirror as her nipples gradually appeared on her shirt, jutting up into the cotton material containing them. Before her eyes they shriveled and stiffened on her chest, and her breathing quickened, and subconsciously her tiny pink tongue trailed along her upper lip. Perhaps, she thought with a grin, it was time for a little pleasure of her own. Amberly sighed as she spread her legs. She lifted her hands and ran them through her bounty of auburn-colored hair, and lazily let one slip down her body. Her skin tingled with arousal as she imagined it was a handsome man caressing her and she moaned softly as her fingers reached between her legs. Her eyes fluttered shut as her fingers plucked the cotton to one side, baring her slick and very aroused pussy to the air, and wasted no time delving into her glistening pink folds, spreading them so the little button of her clitoris was exposed. The tip of her finger swirled over it. "Mmmm," the beautiful teenager moaned as she masturbated herself. She knew just how she liked to be touched as she had been doing this very thing for years. She snuggled down against the mattress, her quivering thighs splayed out to the side to open her nether regions up to her skilled self-manipulations. One long slender finger traveled up and down her leaking slit, and then slipped up inside. It was an incredibly lewd display and had there been anyone there to see it, Amberly might have been mortified, but as it was her and her alone, her thoughts were only on her pleasure. She moaned and her eyes popped open for a moment as a particularly delightful sensation struck her, then she giggled and they fluttered shut again. Amberly added a second finger to the first and pleasured herself with both, burying the pair deep inside her tight little pussy, while her other hand slid up her side and clutched at her full breasts, then dipped down and yanked up the bottom of the shirt that was covering her. Her ample tits spilled out the bottom. "Oh yes . . . ahhh . . . yes . . . mmmm . . ." Amberly whimpered as she gently humped her hips up into her fingers. It never took her long and she was getting close, she knew, which meant it was time to add a third finger into the mix. Trapping her clit between her pointer and ring fingers to stimulate the hard little nub, she thrust her middle finger deep between her moist vaginal lips and pumped it in and out. She gasped and sighed and moaned as she squirmed. Amberly's head thrashed about, her lovely hair whipping this way and that. Her willowy body and slender limbs writhed in trembling convulsions as one hand squeezed and pinched her large breasts while the other fingered and rubbed her blazing pussy. Her hips bucked wildly, her ass bouncing up and down off the mattress of the bed. Thanks to Betty and Brian, still going at it loudly in the other room, the sound of sex was in the air, but now thanks to Amberly, the smell of sex was in the air, too. Her legs kicked out wildly, very nearly striking the bedpost as her entire figure spasmed in a fit of ecstasy. Her tits bounced and jiggled and her shirt slipped down to cover the upper swell, and her hands gripping the sheets of the bed were straining so hard the knuckles were pale white. She whimpered as the contractions striking her pussy finally began to soften. She rolled around for several more long moments until finally she came to a position of rest, her chest heaving as she sucked the air up in ragged gasps. Another grin spread over Amberly's face as she stretched her arms out, fully satisfied. She slipped under the covers of the bed, flipped the light switch off on the wall and lay her head on the pillow, and her grin never faded as she did so. * * * She was blonde and she was hot, and her big ripe tits were spilling out of her slinky little outfit, and that was the extent of his knowledge regarding her. She knew who he was instantly, however, based on the way her eyes widened and a loopy grin split her face, which was good and also important, although not as good or important as the fact that she was drunk. Lula was packed for a random night in the middle of the week, but then again, it was one of the happening spots so you never really knew what kind of scene you were going to get. There were other celebrities scattered around, plus at least two girls Parker recognized as previous sexual conquests, but no official ex-girlfriends and no other celebutantes, which was perfect. He and Burton and Charles nabbed a table in a corner and waited for a little cluster of bitches to work up the courage to approach. As he said before, Parker was not looking for any action and did not want to work hard for anything, and the other two were not suave enough to venture off and pick up hotties themselves. And so they waited. They did not wait long. There were four girls, all very hot, but the blonde was the drunkest, not to mention looked the sluttiest and most fuckable by far. Her body was thin and tight in all places except for her tits, which looked massive against her smallish frame. It was clear they were fake, but Parker did not care: tits were tits, and bigger was better. Her skin was very tan and her hair was very blonde, and her eyes were big and blue and looked like there was nothing going on behind them. Two of the other girls were hot, too, but looked more wholesome, one a brunette with gray eyes and the other dark red with deep green eyes. They were dressed in very revealing outfits, but the kinds of outfits that said they were not completely comfortable being so exposed. The fourth girl was also hot, but hot more like the blonde: black hair, blue eyes, big tits, slutty clothes and a grin that said she was down to fuck. However, there was life in her eyes and Parker could tell she was smart, which would not work for his purposes on this night. He wanted minimal effort and maximum output; the blonde was perfect. After several minutes of banal conversation, Parker managed to extricate both himself and the blonde from the conversation by convincing her to go outside with him for a smoke. The black-haired beauty eyed him suspiciously and he realized that she knew exactly what he was doing, which strangely kind of excited him, but she said nothing and allowed him to take her friend away, which meant she was loose sexually and also somewhat loose morally. The other girls and Burton and Charles were chatting away and did not really care about them stepping away. Parker had no intention of returning, however. "Hi," he said simply once they were outside. It was a spacious patio with a fountain and several tables and chairs, and space for loitering around on your feet. Several people cast lingering glances their way: the women at him, likely knowing who he was, and the men at the girl, likely noticing her luscious tits. "Hi," she replied with a giggle. Her face was flushed: the girl was wasted, which was fantastic. He reached out and touched her arm as he asked, "What's your name?" "Mandy," she replied. He smiled charmingly. "Hi, Mandy," he whispered into her ear, "I'm Parker." She shivered as his warm breath rolled over the skin of her neck. "I know," she replied with that same drunken little grin. Parker would not have been surprised to hear her hiccup. This would be too easy, he thought. "What else do you know?" he asked. "You're rich," she answered with semi-slurred words. "Kimball says you're a player." His fingers slipped up her arm, caressing gently, and she shivered again. A soft moan escaped her lips. The girl was absolutely primed. "Kimball's not wrong," he told her, guessing it was the girl with the jet-black hair. His honeyed words practically oozed charm. "Feel like getting out of here? It's getting kind of cold. I keep a condo nearby. Would you like to come back to my place and talk for a bit?" Mandy's eyes fluttered and she smiled shyly, and he noticed then how she was swaying slightly on her feet, which meant the booze was really hitting her now and it would be almost impossible to not get into bed within mere minutes of getting her back to his place. "Sure," she replied with more eagerness in her eyes than she likely wanted to have shown. And so they slipped out the back door and into the chauffeured car, and within minutes were in the elevator on the way up to his penthouse condominium, and once inside the door he wasted no time getting to know her. He played with her fleshy breasts for several long minutes once they were free, slavering over them with his tongue and lips and kneading them with his fingers as she held on to his head with her own head thrown back, staring at the ceiling. Her tits were incredible, masterfully sculpted and perfectly shaped, but not too stiff like fake tits often were. One of his hands palmed her bare ass, which was round and supple and fleshier than what he had expected by looking at her. He had expected the kind of bony supermodel ass he often found, but was elated to find a little bit of junk in her trunk, which was not really visible when she was clothed. Mandy dropped to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, and he swiftly learned that while she lacked a great degree of skill she more than made up for it in enthusiasm, which also was not ideal but fine just the same. He was used to expert blowjobs, accomplished and animated, but a fresh pair of lips on his cock was always nice and the girl on her knees certainly was eager. Or maybe just drunk. Hard to tell sometimes, he thought. After a few minutes of her sucking his cock and tonguing his balls, he pulled her up and dragged her over to the couch. He pushed her down roughly over the wide armrest, bending her in half, thrusting that juicy ass into the air. He wanted to fuck her from behind so he could watch and play with her lovely rump. His fingers twiddled her puffy pussy lips, which were wet but not as wet as he might have liked. "Are you going to finger me?" she asked as she glanced back over her shoulder through heavy-lidded, drunken eyes. He slapped her ass and watched the flesh ripple. "Not quite," he laughed, "but something like that." He shrugged and just spoke honestly then, curious what she would say about it in the state she was in. "I'm gonna fuck you as hard as I can and then cum all over your ass." "Ok," she replied with a lazy smile. Her eyes closed and she turned to face forward. And so he did to Mandy what he had assumed he would do to her the very moment he saw her: he buried his cock deep inside her and fucked her mercilessly over the arm of his couch. His hips slammed into her ass and the flesh there rippled furiously, and gloriously. The muscles of her cunt twitched around his cock, which was either an amazingly talented sexual move by her or a blessedly natural reaction by her body. He guessed the latter. She started moaning, although the moans turned more and more to whimpers as he plowed her without respite. He wondered how active she was sexually; if this was her first bit of sex in awhile, she was likely to be quite sore in the morning. She was tight and hot, but not really that wet, he admitted with some surprise, although he knew alcohol could have that effect sometimes. He reached around and palmed one of those luscious breasts and squeezed it, hard, and her low light whimpering turned sharply for a moment into a wail of pain. Parker grinned at the lovely sight beneath him: blonde hair whipping around, slender body bouncing, ass rippling, anus winking, his cock sliding in and out. Glorious view, he thought. He could feel his loins beginning to boil. He considered then the sound of their fucking (in an attempt to stave of his release) and noticed something right away: her whimpers of pain were receding, grown far quieter now than the sound of his hips as they smacked into her fleshy tush or the squishing of his cock as it penetrated her or the grunts or groans or his own panted breaths. And then, rising from the black of his subconscious like a fish slipping from the darkened depths to the moonlit surface, he heard another sound: the soft and feminine southern drawl of Miss Amberly Faye, the Apple Dish girl, which was unexpected and hot and ruined him completely. And so Parker Wellington pulled out and exploded all over the ass of the girl he'd met just an hour earlier, who was taking his abuse like the drunken little slut she was, but he was left quite unsatisfied: the girl was definitely a one-pop fuck and he'd blown his load far too early. Amberly, he decided then and there, would owe him one, and he intended to collect. Part Two: Jewel and Rogue Betty was lounging on the couch, munching on some cereal and watching a tivoed version of Celebrity Insider, when Amberly emerged from her bedroom the next morning. "Morning, sweetie," the twenty-one year-old blonde girl chirped. "Sorry about last night. I can't believe I lost track of the time." Amberly giggled. "Three hours is a long time to have sex," she noted as she plopped down on the couch next to her friend and roommate. Betty giggled right back. "You're telling me," she said with a sudden groan. "I'm so sore!" "You weren't kidding when you said Brian has a big dick," Amberly said in a low voice. "It looked huge!" "Eight inches!" Betty breathed. "Oh my god, it feels so good! It fills me all the way up!" The girls giggled again and fell silent. Amberly counted meeting Betty the most significant moment of her time in Los Angeles. Betty was an aspiring actress, too, and the two had met at an audition one day two months earlier. They got to talking, realized they had some things in common, realized they liked each other a lot, and Betty mentioned her ex-roommate had just moved out. The cost was the same as it had been for Amberly in her little studio apartment, which made it a no-brainer, and so by the end of that day she had initiated preparations to move. It was her best decision since moving to Los Angeles. Betty, who was also a part-time model and semi-successful with it, had given her lots of insight into the entertainment world. She often said there were three roads to success in show business and Hollywood: the "slut" road, the "break" road, and the "work" road. The last of those roads was the only one that truly required talent. Amberly had wondered at first why Betty, who was not at all bothered by casual sex, did not try to sleep her way into the industry, but she remembered vividly the girl's response when asked about it. Betty had chafed at the idea. "Just because I like to fuck, Amberly," she had said emphatically, "does not mean I'm a slut. It does not mean I'll demean myself. It does not mean I will reduce myself to exploiting my body and my pussy, my most intimate and private areas, for personal gain. If I wanted to do that, I could just fuck and marry some rich guy for his money! You have to be happy with who you are. Casting directors owe you nothing. They get pussy all the time. So what if they throw you a bone and get you a small part in some direct-to-video movie. Fucking some balding fat guy on a casting couch will not get you famous." Amberly smiled as she remembered the fire in Betty's eyes that morning. Her roommate really was a very good person and Amberly was so lucky to have found her. Her roommate also caught her grinning at her. "What?" Betty asked with a smile that was difficult as she had just spooned a healthy helping of Grape Nuts into her mouth. "Just thinking about you and Brian," Amberly said with a sigh. "It'd be nice to have a boy of my own to play with." Betty smiled sympathetically. "You'll find a decent one soon," she said. "You're young." "You're young!" Amberly said accusingly. Betty laughed. "I guess so," she agreed, "but I'm two years older than you and in Hollywood, two years is a lifetime. Plus, I've lived in southern California all my life, so I was a little more advanced than you were at your age." Betty had grown up in Newport Beach and was the proto-typical Orange County beach bunny. "Actually," Amberly said proudly, "I did meet a cute guy yesterday." Betty clapped and squealed. "You did?! Who is he?!" Fresh Off the Bus "His name's Parker." "Parker, huh," Betty said thoughtfully. "Where'd you meet him?" Amberly grinned. "He was at one of my tables last night," she admitted sheepishly. "You little flirt! Did he leave a big tip?" Amberly giggled. "Huge," she whispered. "Dirty slut!" Betty said, laughing. It was at that exact moment that Amberly's cell phone rang. It was a restricted number, which she usually did not answer, but for some reason she flipped it open this time and asked, "Hello?" Betty watched as the expression of her roommate went from curiosity to wonder to a big stupid grin. She spoke only occasionally and mostly in one-word answers, and when Amberly hung up the phone, her eyes were bright and beaming. "Well?" Betty asked eagerly. "That was him," Amberly whispered breathlessly. "Duh!" Betty replied. "What'd he say?" "He's taking me out to dinner tonight." Betty grinned. "Awesome! What time?" "He picks me up at eight." "Well," Betty said in a very mothering way, "we'll have to make sure you're presentable!" And so the two girls happily set about ensuring she would be precisely that. * * * The girl's apartment was in a decent section of Hollywood, just off Hollywood Boulevard itself actually east of La Brea, which was points in her favor. It was a modest little ten-unit building, decent architecture, nice landscaping, and Parker was one to notice such things. Her apartment was on the second floor with a burgundy-colored door, which he knocked on three times loudly, and then it was opened. Jackpot! The image of the girl named Amberly Faye that was etched in his mind from the previous night was a good one: beautiful in a very natural and fresh-faced kind of way. She had been working, which meant she was not dolled up, but she had still looked great, which meant he was expecting her to look even better when she really applied herself. She completely blew away his expectations. First, her outfit was completely different: she was hot and dressed to show it, but very clean and feminine and not at all untoward. She wore a maroon modal blouse with short sheer sleeves and crisscrossed panels at the v-neck bust, showing off the supple swell of her bosom to enticing (but still relatively modest) degree, and a black pleated skirt that fell almost to the top of her knees. The outfit was accentuated with black leather: a notch collar three button jacket that hung open in the front and tall zippered boots with square toes and three-inch heels. It was an outfit that hinted at sensuality, while remaining flirty and fun. Second, she appeared thoroughly sexed up, but not in the slutty kind of way: she was gorgeous and had gone to lengths to accentuate her attributes. Her auburn hair was layered and down and swept from her head in shimmering ringlets, framing a face that was fresh and youthful with bright brown eyes, sun-touched skin, noticeable cheekbones and pouty red lips. She smiled and he marveled at her straight white teeth. She looked, in a word, incredible. And so Parker was stunned into speechlessness for a moment, thankful to the heavens for putting him in the path of this beauty, thankful to his natural skills with women for helping him get in the door, and energized by the thought of all the dirty little things he might do to such a warm and genuine and beautiful girl. "Hello," the girl said after a moment with a shy smile. Parker shook himself out of his stupor and smiled. "Hi," he replied, then added, "Wow. You're gorgeous. I'm not usually at a loss for words, but you're gorgeous. I kind of lost myself there for a second." The girl blushed and lowered her eyes. "Thank you," she said simply. He held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked. "We shall," Amberly replied as she wrapped her own arm in his. And off they went. * * * Dinner was amazing. The restaurant was a French place in Santa Monica and seemed hip in a hole-in-the-wall kind of way, and their table was in a darkened corner lit almost entirely by the array of candles on its surface. The food was delicious and Parker was a very knowledgeable date when it came to cuisine, which impressed her. He was also friendly and conversational and quite interesting, which also impressed her, although when the waiter brought the bill some two hours after they arrived, Amberly realized that despite their involved discussions she still knew very little about the man himself when it came to essentials. Oh, she knew much that was peripheral, such as his favorite this or his favorite that, plus his age and the fact that he had lived in Los Angeles all his life. Beyond that, however, very little. She cocked her head and studied him. He noted her curiosity immediately. "Yes?" he asked with a grin. He was super cute when he smiled and she found the butterflies in her stomach fluttering every time he did, which was quite often. She smiled back. "I just realized that I know very little about you," she admitted. "You know quite a bit about me, I feel like I've been talking non-stop since we got here, but I know very little of substance about you." He shrugged. "Perhaps you're not asking the right questions," he suggested. "Perhaps," she replied playfully. "Perhaps you like to talk about yourself." She gasped, but could not conceal her grin as she flicked her head around to illustrate her (mock) outrage. They were flirting and she was enjoying it greatly. She was beginning to really like this boy; she hoped his essentials were as excellent as his stylish exterior. "Perhaps you've got dark secrets and don't like to talk about yourself," she offered. "Perhaps you don't like talking deeply with people you don't know very well." It was his turn to grin again. "What would it take for me to . . . get to know you a little better?" His meaning was clearly implied. Amberly giggled; there had been very little sexual innuendo over the course of the night, which she appreciated, but this particular line tickled her, not to mention turned her on. "Tell me about yourself," she stated, exploiting the opening. "Whatever you think is important for another person to know. That would make me very comfortable and would definitely help you get to know me better." It was a bold challenge and somewhat out-of-character for her, but her chin was up and her eyes were flashing, and the whole exchange was thrilling and exhilarating. She wondered then if this man before her would end up being the first man in Los Angeles to get into her pants; it would take more than what he'd given so far, but he was certainly on the right track. He sighed and her heart skipped a beat; it was such a melancholy little sound. "If you don't mind," he told her in a suddenly soft voice, "I'd like to hold off talking much about me until our second date. I'm not an axe-murderer or anything, nothing bad, it's just how I kind of like to do things. I'd like for you to get to know my personality first, before you hear other specifics." She considered his words for a moment, then grinned. "What makes you so sure you'll get a second date, Mister Wellington?" she teased. He looked her right in the eye and replied, "Because you like me almost as much as I like you." Amberly's breath caught in her throat and she blushed furiously, which only embarrassed her more and so the blush deepened. "I think," she stammered, trying to find the right words, "I think that, um, what I mean is, well, I think that sounds like a good reason." He leaned forward, reached across the table and took her hand in his as he said, "Shall we?" Amberly smiled shyly again. "We shall," she replied as she squeezed his hand. * * * The film was a romantic dramedy, equally heavy on drama and comedy and romance, which was the perfect kind of film for an unseasoned (but not really naïve) girl like Amberly. There was an attractive male lead and a beautiful female lead, both young and energetic and star-crossed, and there were several love scenes and several laugh scenes and several scenes that required the use of Kleenex. By the end, Amberly was emotionally invested and quite worn out. But the fact that the movie had won rave reviews was not the reason Parker took Amberly to see it. In fact, the plot and nature of the film had nothing to do with it. "I know her," Parker whispered just a few minutes into the movie when the female lead appeared for the first time on screen, an actress named Josephine Belle. "Who?" Amberly asked. There were several women on screen at the moment. "The main girl," he revealed, "Josephine. She's an old friend of mine. I even dated her before she was famous." While it was not really that much of a stretch to believe a guy like Parker could have dated someone famous, Amberly was nonetheless impressed, which was exactly what his goal was. "Wow," Amberly whispered back. "What's it like to see her in a movie?" Parker shrugged, although inside he was giddy. That was exactly the question he had hoped she would ask, which was always one of the first questions aspiring actresses asked when he told them he knew who was on screen. "Weird," he admitted, "but really cool." His time with Josephine had been short: they had dated for only a couple of weeks, fucked for a couple of months and then she had saddled up with one of Parker's director friends in search of her big break, which was quite obviously a very good strategy. She was hellacious in the sack and had been an excellent lay, which is why he'd kept her around longer than most despite the fact that she was also a titanic bitch who considered herself hotter and better than anyone else. The root of the problem, of course, was that she actually usually was. She was also a pretty decent actress. She was not going to win any awards in her lifetime, but she had decent range and was not afraid to show her luscious body off on screen, which meant she would have a very healthy career until her beauty faded, and last he'd heard, she was rumored to be up for a role in the next Bond film. But Josephine was the past and Amberly was the present, and there was a future with the latter that he wanted to see realized: it involved sweaty flesh and lots of grunting and groaning. He'd already been there and done that with the former. They rose to their feet as the credits rolled and he noticed the girl dabbing her eyes after the rather melancholy ending, and he offered her his hand, which she took with a grateful smile. He held it as they walked out of the theater, which was an important moment, he knew, in the evolution of their relationship. It was an almost scripted routine Parker worked by when it came to these types of dates and these types of women, and he was playing this one completely (and perfectly) by the book, and Amberly was growing more and more comfortable with him by the minute. He waited until they were outside and away from the crowds before he turned to face her, his hands suddenly going to her waist, and pulled her slowly into his arms. "You are gorgeous and I like you," he murmured as he stared intently into her wide brown eyes, "but I'm afraid of moving too fast. I have to tell you, however, how much I want to kiss you." He could feel her soften and practically melt into him. "Go ahead then," she whispered. Parker smiled: like taking candy from a baby. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted his own face down, and leaned in ever-so-slowly. She moaned lightly when his mouth brushed her pouty red lips, warm and wet, and his tongue crept forward to test her receptivity. Amberly kissed him back, gently and with the barest hint of tongue, a soft and romantic and investigative kind of kiss that said she was interested and attracted, but also keen to take things slow. It was exactly the kind of kiss he expected from her. He did not, however, expect her lips to taste quite as good as they did. Once upon a time, he might have been susceptible to addiction to such a tasty mouth, but thankfully not anymore. He trained himself long ago to remained detached and enjoy feminine beauty and deliciousness and lushness for what they were: pleasures to be sampled liberally and then discarded. He could, however, admire the best of it when he came across it, and Amberly Faye was delicious, indeed. They broke free then with a pair of soft smiles and wandered back to the car in silence, holding hands and leaning together at the shoulders, enjoying their newfound comfort and easiness with one another, quiet and quietly content. Parker would attempt no further intimacy this night, sticking to his immensely successful script once again, and with the exception of the tender but fleeting goodnight kiss outside her door, there was very little in the way of events of substance. Parker grinned as he rode the elevator after dropping the girl off: things were progressing exactly as designed and working out very well, indeed. * * * Amberly opened the door after kissing Parker goodnight and found Betty sitting on the couch, watching television. Brian was nowhere to be found. Amberly grinned. "I half expected to find you on top this time," she giggled. Betty grinned right back. "Already masturbated," she admitted. "Brian's working late so I had to take care of myself tonight. If you'd come home an hour ago, you'd have been in for another surprise. But enough of that: gimme the details." Amberly sighed. "It was nice," she revealed. "Very nice." "He's a sweetie?" Betty pressed. "He is," the other replied. "He was very gentlemanly and very attentive. He opened doors for me and held my hand, and when we kissed it was very soft and affectionate. He was really cute and really sweet." Betty giggled. "You like him," she stated. Amberly nodded. "I do," she agreed. "And?" "He's taking me out again tomorrow night." Betty clapped her hands together. "Gonna let him get to second base this time?" she asked with a devilish little grin. Amberly laughed. "Maybe," she admitted. "Let's just see where the night takes us, ok?" And so the girls talked late into the night about their lives and loves and dating the opposite sex, and about sex in general, and when Amberly finally slipped into bed just after two o'clock she was weary after a long day, but excited for the one that would follow. * * * He called her just before noon. She was scheduled to work the lunch shift at the Apple Dish and he caught her just as she was walking out the door. "Tonight might be a little more active," he told her after the greetings. "There's a hot new club on Sunset and the promoter is a friend of mine. He wants me to make an appearance. I'll pick you up at seven, we'll grab some dinner and then hit the club with a couple of my friends, if you don't mind." Amberly was running late and rushed and not really considering his words, but she was familiar in small measure with the Hollywood club scene and responded, "Sounds great." His next call was to Jimmy Sykes, who was actually awake this time. Jimmy certainly had a different kind of schedule than most people. "Your sluts are all lined up for tonight," the man told Parker. "Two blondes and a tight little Asian bitch, and believe me they all want a piece of Parker Wellington." Parker grinned. "Too bad they're not for me," he revealed. "I want them all over Charles." "Horton? Shouldn't be a problem when I tell them his net worth. They'll be disappointed at first, but I'm sure they'll get over it quick." "Tell them whoever fucks Charles best gets an invite to my next yacht party." He could hear Jimmy chuckle. "That should add an element," he said. "Anything else?" "I'm bringing a girl tonight," Parker stated flatly, "aspiring actress, blazing hot, but she's Green Gable so keep the paparazzi several feet from the walk. I don't want those idiots scaring her off. Spread the word that I'll linger on the carpet with her only if they behave. Also, I want a table for ten in the darkest corner of the club, plus exclusive service." "Done," Jimmy said instantly. Parker grinned again. "Well done, Jimmy," he said, and he meant it. * * * He arrived right on time, looking sharp, but the expression on his face stopped Amberly in her tracks. He seemed nervous somehow, anxious and uneasy. "Hi," he said in a soft voice, trying to hide his discomfort. "Hi," she replied back, searching his face. "Mind if we talk for a little bit before we go?" he asked. "Is your roommate here?" Amberly shook her head. "No," she told him. "Betty's with her boyfriend tonight. Come in and let's talk." They situated themselves next to each other on the couch, the same couch Betty and Brian had been caught fucking on two nights earlier, but Amberly did not really want to think about that at the moment. She was focused instead on her date. "I have something important to tell you," he said in a quiet and quite serious voice. He took her hand in his and she looked into his eyes, wondering just what it was that had him so seemingly grave. "I'm rich." Amberly stared at him, blinked, then burst out laughing. "You're rich?" she repeated. "That's the important thing to tell me?" Her mind caught on something he'd said from the previous night. "Wait, is this what you wanted to wait until our second date to tell me? That you have money?" He lowered his eyes and nodded. "Why?" He looked at her and the sadness in his eyes touched her deeply. "Women who know about the money are different," he told her. "They act different. They rarely see me for me." Amberly cocked her head inquisitively. "How much money do you have?" she asked. "I would never ask this question normally, but since you brought it up and are worried about it, I need to have some perspective." Parker shrugged. "Let's just say I'm worth millions," he admitted. "Many millions." That was certainly surprising and she sat in stunned silence for a long moment as the information rattled around her head. Amberly did not have much experience with people as wealthy as Parker appeared to be. "Well," she said slowly as a smile crept across her face, "it's a good thing you know I liked you before I knew you had money, isn't it?" He grinned and nodded. "It's why I wanted to wait until the second date to tell you. I rarely have gotten the chance to do that, you know, what with the paparazzi hounding me all the time." Amberly frowned. "Paparazzi?" Parker sighed. "It's another thing I wanted to wait to tell you," he said. "I'm moderately famous." "Moderately famous," she repeated slowly. "What does that mean?" "It means I'm young and I have money," he told her with more than a little bitterness in his voice, "and it means the tabloids like to talk about me." He looked her square in the eye. "It also means they talk about the people I date." Amberly was clearly surprised. "It can't be that bad, though, right?" she asked, trying to hide her shock but not doing a very good job. He sighed again. "It's bad," he told her. "It's why I was at the Apple Dish that night, to get away from them, and why the restaurant last night was so discreet." "Wow," was all she said. "It's also why I'm so happy you did not know who I was when you met me. Lots of times, girls know who I am and look at me only because of the money and fame, or the rumors, but you didn't. You just thought I was some random cute guy." "Cute?" she asked playfully after a long moment of contemplation. "Who said I thought you were cute? I'm in this for the recognition. I'm trying to be an actress, you know." They both laughed, but he sobered quickly. "So, Amberly," he asked in a serious voice, "where would you like to go to dinner? Somewhere discreet where the paparazzi will not know me or somewhere out in the open, where the camera flash can be almost blinding?" Fresh Off the Bus She considered. "There will be photographers at the club, right? They'll be taking pictures of you?" He nodded, and she continued. "Somewhere discreet for dinner, then. I'd like one more bit of normalcy before I glimpse the world y'all seem to think is so crazy." Parker smiled and shook his head. "Wow, you're incredible. You're incredible and you're gorgeous. How did I manage to snag a date with you?" The girl blushed and lowered her eyes. He rose to his feet and held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked. "We shall," Amberly replied as she took what was offered with a smile. And off they went for the second time. * * * The girl was blazing hot: short black leather mini-skirt, another pair of sexy knee-high boots and a slinky silken backless shirt colored deepest purple. With her hair coiffed up and her make-up pristinely applied, the girl was a fucking bombshell. The paparazzi were going to go nuts. The tabloids would have a field day. He picked her up in a limo, which was easy after the talk they'd had in her apartment. He was a little rusty with that particular script (he rarely met girls who didn't know who he was) and while he butchered a few parts, it all worked out fine in the end. "Wow," she whistled when she saw the car. "You weren't kidding, I guess." "No," he said simply as he helped her into the shiny black stretch, the interior of which was decked out with plush leather, blue track lighting and a full bar. Dinner was another intimate candle-lit affair in an out-of-the-way restaurant. They mixed in light-hearted talk with more in-depth discussion as Parker used his perceptiveness and intuition to tell the girl exactly what it was he thought she wanted to hear, as well as some light touching of their hands and arms and their feet beneath the table (although it was far shorter than the previous night's dinner as they had other things to do). The limo ride to the club was much quieter than the ride to the restaurant, however. Parker could tell the girl was growing nervous, which was perfect. Nervous meant she would cling to him and look for comfort and protection, which would only serve to make her more attached. The limo pulled up in front of the club and he heard her gasp at the scene outside. He turned to look at her and gauge her reaction as she took in the view: the first thing she noticed was the line to get in, which wrapped half-way around the block and was full of young persons of varying attractiveness decked out in skimpy clothes; the second thing she noticed was the line of six big black bouncers standing guard at various places along an empty red carpet that led up to the entrance to the club; and the third thing she noticed, the thing that captured her attention and held it, was the gaggle of camera-waving paparazzi crowded in behind a thick velvet rope on the opposite side of the carpet from the line. The paparazzi had been loitering around when the limo pulled up, but now they were buzzing and eagerly anticipating the emergence of those inside, lenses trained on the limo door. Parker grinned. "Ready?" he asked, and she nodded tightly. "Just stick with me and don't answer any questions. Try not to make eye contact with any of the photographers, ok? It'll just encourage them." The flashing lights assaulted them almost immediately. The whistles and shouting followed moments later. Three of the bouncers did their best to escort Parker and Amberly down the carpet and into the club, but Parker lingered to allow the paparazzi to snap their fill of photos as he had promised Jimmy he would. Amberly was clutched to his arm, eyes wide as she listened to the men with the cameras calling out to them. Paparazzi were assholes, but they were a necessary part of the equation, sadly enough. "Hey Parker! Who's the latest hottie?" "What's your name, baby? Where you from?" "Have you slept with him yet? How was he?" "Look over here, sweetheart! We'll make you a star!" Amberly was trembling when they got past the first of the two entry doors and they stopped for a moment before they moved into the main part of the club. Her eyes were still wide and there was an amazed and not-quite-comfortable sort of look in them. It reminded Parker of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "Is it always like that?" she whispered. Parker shrugged. "That was a little more aggressive than most other times," he admitted. "You're new to them and they got a little excited. Come on, let's have some fun." Club Envy was the hot new Hollywood nightclub. It had a sister operation in New York City that had its own significant buzz and both establishments were the talk of the socialite elite and celebrity class. Parker looked around and immediately liked it: it was much more Las Vegas than it was New York, which was his biggest concern. Bright neon, flashing lights, loud music, grinding bodies, lots of skin, and lots and lots of booze rounded out the scene. Jimmy met them just inside the second door. There was a gorgeous young blonde on his arm, which was probably one of the reasons why he was grinning so stupidly. "All set," the man shouted over the din as his eyes roamed over Amberly's body. "Sweet," Parker shouted back. "Follow me," Jimmy said, and he turned and escorted them back to their private VIP booth. The club had an excellent design: dance floor on the bottom level with three separate bar areas; a second level full of tiny regular tables and couches and cushions for socializing while not dancing; and then the third level, the VIP level, where private booths looked out over everything going on below without the possibility of being seen. Each booth was spacious and fully stocked, equipped with curtains to block off viewing entirely if further privacy was wanted. The third level also had its own smaller dance floor for VIP patrons only. Parker grinned as he considered the future number of girls he would fuck in those VIP booths. Jimmy had saved them what looked like one of the best tables in the place: front and center on level three looking out over the whole of the dance floor. One-way glass covered one whole side of the booth, allowing them to look out over the dance floor two levels below as well as the exclusive third-level dance floor, but allowing no one the opportunity to look in. Curtains on the backside of the booth blocked people in other VIP booths from watching them, too. Burton and Charles were already there waiting for them. "Boys, you remember Amberly," Parker said as they slipped into the booth, Parker on one end followed by Amberly with Burton to her left, followed by Charles. "Amberly, this is Charles and Burton, whom you might remember from the night we met." Amberly smiled shyly. "Yes, of course," she said sweetly. "Nice to see y'all again." "You look a little more dressed up than you did at the Apple Dish," the one named Burton noted. "You looked nice in work clothes, but I must say you look lovely in play clothes, too." Amberly smiled. "Thank you," she said simply. The one named Charles was grinning. "You look hot!" he exclaimed, and the girl blushed. Amberly squeezed his arm and whispered, "Is there a restroom close by?" she asked. Parker had seen one as they were walking to the table. "Around the corner," he told her as he rose to his feet and let her out. The three men watched the tight swish of her ass and the long sleek and line of her back as she walked away, covered only by a series of deep purple strings holding the front of her slinky top up. It was an erection-inspiring sight, to be sure. "Wow," Burton breathed when the girl was out of earshot. "She's a fox. How old is she?" "Massive titties," Charles said with his usual loopy kind of grin. "What I would give to get my hands on a pair like that . . ." Parker grinned wolfishly. "She's nineteen," he revealed. "The perfect age," Burton said with a nod. There was an old joke among their circle of wealthy young men about nineteen year-old girls: they were still teenagers, which was hot, but not eighteen, which meant they probably had a little bit of experience in the sack and with the world. Nineteen, therefore, or so they said, was the perfect age. For Parker, nineteen was perfect, especially if the girl fell into the category of Green Gable: kind of innocent, a little naïve, fresh-faced, wholesome, but open to the prospect of new things. It was the ultimate combination in his mind and Amberly fit the description perfectly. "You gonna fuck her tonight?" Charles asked with a little more attentiveness than was proper. Parker shrugged. "We'll see," he told them, and then things got a little more interesting. Three things happened all at once: Amberly returned from the restroom, looking incredibly sexy as she walked towards them; the cocktail waitress arrived, a beautiful young Hawaiian woman; and Jimmy returned, the same blonde on his arm, but with three additional young ladies following behind. The sluts had arrived. Parker pulled Amberly to him when she reached him and whispered right into her ear, "These girls are for Charles and Burton. Keep an eye on them for me, will you? My friends are not the most debonair of men." Amberly, wide-eyed, nodded. Jimmy announced, "Everyone, this is Kendall, Sienna and Reiko. Girls, this is Charles, Burton, Parker and . . . I'm sorry, miss, your name is . . .?" "Amberly," the girl answered. "And Amberly," Jimmy finished. "Drinks tonight are on the house, Parker, as long as all the ladies hit the dance floor a few times." "Will do, my friend," he replied. The new girls piled into the booth, which now had Parker on the end with Amberly to his right, then Kendall, then Charles, then Sienna, then Burton, then Reiko, who did not look particularly happy about being on the other end. Kendall and Sienna were your stereotypical hot young Hollywood club-hoppers: platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes and huge fake tits, dressed scandalously. Reiko was an attractive Asian chick with a tight little body, also with big tits and clothes similar to the other girls. Girls like these (hot and ready and willing when the wallet was big enough) were a dime-a-dozen in Hollywood. And so their night of revelry began and Parker found much enjoyment in the way the three gold-diggers were treating (and competing over) Charles. Few feminine tactics were not employed: flirtatious looks, gentle body contact, breathless voices, sexy sounds and giggles, not to mention each of the three took him down to the dance floor for a serious bump-and-grind session at least once. The effect on Charles was clear: he returned with tented slacks each time. It was maybe a couple of hours later, five rounds of drinks in and after much in the way of spirited dialogue (and lots of cooing and whispering and innocent touching and caressing between himself and Amberly) that Parker leaned down and whispered again in the girl's ear, "Would you like to dance?" Amberly turned to him and smiled gratefully. "Love to," she admitted. They rose and headed over to the third-level dance floor, where they occupied a quieter corner. Parker took the girl into his arms, pulling her body into his, relishing the feel of her pressed tightly against him. The music was blasting a slow and steady hip-hip rhythm and they began to gyrate their bodies against one another in time with the beat. "Have you had fun tonight?" he shouted, though with all the noise surrounding them it sounded like only a whisper. She nodded, those beautiful light and bright brown eyes sparkling, and lay her head against his chest. She was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol (three martinis would do that to a girl who weighed no more than a buck-twenty) which was a very good thing for him. Her silken auburn hair tickled his face as she snuggled against him. And then Amberly tilted her head up and kissed him softly on the cheek as her delicate hand squeezed his arm. She said nothing, but the sparkle in her lovely eyes spoke volumes. Parker leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead, knowing beyond shadow of doubt that he would have his cock inside her by the end of the night. Which was absolutely thrilling. * * * The song changed and the speed of the rhythm increased, and Amberly went right along with it. She had been in the arms of the boy she was dating, Parker, content to snuggle there and feel the strength of him and the warmth of him, her head spinning just a bit from the drinks she'd had back at the table, not to mention the whole incredible situation (paparazzi and VIP tables and beautiful women and limousines and everything) and when the music got faster, she let it flow right through her. Amberly stepped back then and her eyes fluttered shut, and she began to move her body, her svelte frame turning and flowing in one seemingly interminable motion. He breasts swayed and jiggled and felt so good with her shriveled nipples right against the silk. She loved to dance and often thought of dancing as poetry in motion, and did her best in that moment to make it so. She opened her eyes and saw Parker staring at her intently, eyes wide and mouth slightly open as if watching her dance was the hottest thing he had ever seen, and she giggled and stepped back into his arms. They shimmied around the dance floor, bodies pressed tightly together, her breasts squished against his chest. She moved her body as sensually as she knew how, relishing the look on his face and the effect she was having. Amberly was acutely aware of his hand resting on her shoulder and she gasped when it trailed slowly down her back, caressing the smooth skin as his other hand moved up to play with her hair, running his fingers through the silken strands. He smelled incredibly good, too; his musky scent filled her nostrils and cleared her head. Her eyes fluttered shut. The whole of her being was focused on the feeling of his arms around her, his body against hers. The fingers on her back pressed into her flesh, massaging the muscles they found there. She moaned into his neck and kissed the skin that was suddenly there beneath her lips. Amberly swayed softly against him and suddenly became aware of his growing bulge. She sighed at the knowledge that he found her arousing and kissed him again on the neck, lingering this time, suckling him gently. Her tongue flicked out across his skin. A tingling sensation had struck fiercely between her legs as she brushed against the hardness in his pants. He moaned, and she moved her lips up to his face. The kiss was like pure electricity shooting through her from head to toe. His soft lips grazed over hers as his hand caressed her cheek, and rubbed the side of her mouth. Her lips parted, allowing his warm tongue to slide inside her mouth. The tip of his tongue teased her pouty lips and slid across the smooth white edge of her teeth. He pulled away then and she whimpered at the loss, and he smiled and bent down to kiss her again, softly brushing his lips against her neck before moving up to lick faintly at her swollen bottom lip. And then he broke away again. "Oh my god," he said. "Keeping my hands off you is going to get difficult." Amberly giggled and flashed the boy a flirty grin. "Who says you have to keep your hands off me?" she asked, and Parker groaned. When they returned to the booth, they found the two blonde girls locked in a passionate kiss, mouths dueling, hands groping at their supple young bodies. Charles was watching slack-jawed, completely rapt, while Burton seemed to be excited but mildly embarrassed and the Asian girl appeared very displeased. "Wow," Amberly whispered. She had never seen two girls kissing so aggressively up close before and the sight was quite erotic, and very unexpectedly alluring. The girls broke apart. "Sorry," the girl named Kendall said with a grin, "couldn't resist." Amberly was about to sit back down when she felt Parker's hand clutching her arm. She turned to find his dark eyes narrowed intensely. He leaned in and his hot breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Want to get out of here?" "Yes," she replied, and that simple word came breathlessly, heart fluttering and knees all of a sudden trembling, her bright brown eyes wide as saucers, for she now knew exactly where their night was headed. * * * Eddie Beamer had been the limo driver for Parker Wellington for nearly two years. It was an awesome gig and he did not anticipate leaving it for some time. For starters, the job paid well, nearly twice what the usually salary was for similar work elsewhere. The reason for this was simple: availability. Wellington was a wealthy young playboy who lived a different sort of life, and as such the hours he required service were strange and sometimes inexplicable. Eddie was on-call twenty-four hours a day. For another, Eddie got to taste just a bit of the high society life-style. There was no end to the procession of gorgeous women, athletes, and celebrities young Master Wellington paraded through his life and Eddie got to witness all of it. Also, when Wellington went out of town, he was more apt to take along his staff than to hire fresh blood at his destination, which meant Eddie often got all-expenses-paid vacations to exotic locations where the women were beautiful, easy, and did not cost too much. It was also quite enjoyable to watch the young man work. The guy got more ass than rock stars, a regular modern-day Casanova. Beautiful women flocked to him and Eddie got more than his fair share of the view. It was after midnight when he finally got the call: the boss and his date (another gorgeous young female) were coming out the hidden VIP exit to avoid the paparazzi. Eddie pulled around to the back, got out and waited, and then opened the door for the two of them when they arrived. The two young people were all over each other in the car, kissing and canoodling and petting. It was quite clear significant amounts of alcohol had been consumed. It was also quite clear that Wellington was shortly going to notch yet another hot piece of ass on his bedpost. Eddie kept the divider down and watched happily. The girl was hot and wearing a short black mini-skirt, and while they did nothing too provocative, mostly just serious necking, he did catch the occasional glimpse of her panties. Plus, it was always fun to watch the boy's hands roam over the body of fine young females. Wellington had several places in the city he could take her: his yacht, which was his primary residence; his father's house; his mother's house; and three condominiums, one in Orange County, one in the Marina, and one smack-dab in the middle of Hollywood. It was the last of these places to which Eddie was ordered to drive. * * * It was dim in the room they were in, but the candles that served as the source of what light there was cast with their soft flickering flames a luxurious glow over the breasts of Amberly Faye. The auburn-haired beauty lay on her back, sprawled out across the middle of an antique Oriental rug, the beige fibers smooth against her bare back and bottom. Standing over her, an awed and iniquitous smile on his face, was Parker Wellington. Things had moved very fast. They left the club and hopped into the limo, and the short drive had involved much in the way of deep kissing and groping. They were tasting with their lips and tongues and testing with their hands and fingers, and then the drive ended and he whisked her past a set of gold double doors and into an elevator, minds whirling and desires mounting. The penthouse suite of Parker Wellington was on the thirteenth floor of an ultra-posh and pricey condominium building. The suite housed seven bedrooms and six bathrooms, plus several additional rooms for a grand total of nearly four thousand square feet. Two personal attendants and a private chef lived there, too, all of whom were expecting Parker to arrive at some point that night. They were familiar enough with his habits and indiscretions, however, to know he wanted them to remain safely locked away in their quarters until morning.