3 comments/  15820 views/  0 favorites

Releasing the Slut Within

By: Egmont Grigor



INTRODUCTION

Walsh and Toss Haar were average parents of lively teenagers. They were late paying bills, hated having their dentist extract money from them so effortlessly, had countless affairs, bickered daily and wanted the best for their kids who were expected to perform right up there. Just where was never defined. 

Roughly like average people, Walsh owned five hairdressing salons and spent most of his day counting money while Toss (Tosland) tattooed butts of women erotically, charging enough for her decorative artwork that would leave most dentists frothing enviously. 

So the twins Orion and Starre (her parents' misspelling of Star and never corrected) went through college, just like everyone else's kids do, gaining top marks and being very popular.

We enter the story a month after graduation...



CHAPTER 1

Red-faced and tired, Orion Haar tossed the tip-filled sheath into the corner of the hotel room and sighed, watching Starre Haar ram a towel between her creamy and gloriously contoured thighs. Orion looked and thought he might never see their like again while Starre, eyeing his nuts, thought similarly.

Two hours later Starre, with her new degree in communications and not yet set on a career, waved goodbye to her twin as he entered security at JFK. She walked out to line up for a cab when a black limo stopped just ahead of her. The driver in a black suit and chauffeur's cap stepped out and called, "Excuse me. Miss Jacqui would like a word as we drive you to Fifth."

Walsh Starre's dad had warned her of the dangers of being accosted in New York while her mom had been less edgy, and said it was okay to take a calculated risk occasionally as one never knew what might come up.

Starre thought this was only her second day in New York, rather early to be taking a calculated risk. She was about to turn and walk on when the dime dropped: Miss Jacqui O'Hara, president of Lovely Girls Inc, was based on Fifth Avenue.

The 23-year-old didn't reply. Instead she checked her lipstick, ran a comb through her hair and only then did she walk to the opened rear door of the limo, watched by two airport cops too smart to hurry the limo along, having noted the front plate, Miss J. 

"Please enter lovely young woman – until now I had only noticed your derriere," said the faded and now over-weight director of the famous international model agency, carrying her name. Miss Jacqui's mother came from a family of wealthy Bostonians while her father, a street waif in Argentina when 'discovered' at the aged of twelve, became a celebrated tango dancer. 

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes Miss."

"Call me Miss J. Are you interested in being assessed for training as a model?"

Starre thought hell no but thought of the awkward walk back for a cab. The plush interior smelt a little of lilac and the cab would smell of stale body sweat, perhaps. "Yes, I could be interested."

"What's your name dear?"

"Starre Haar."

"No honey, your real name."

Starre said that's what her parents Walsh and Toss Haar named her at birth.

Miss J looked at her intently and rubbed under her hip. "Ohmigod, is that the Toss Haar who cut the face and hat of a pirate captain on my ass some fifteen years ago?"

"I wouldn't know but we have always lived in a former church near Hopewell Junction in Dutchess County."

"And your mother's studio was a former railway carriage, beautiful decorated?"

"Yes, that's it. I would have been around eight then."

Miss J furrowed her forehead. "I seem to remember two blonde kids with very light blue eyes – yes, got it, cute twins."

"Orion and I are still cute Miss J."

"Okay, I believe that. Now to work. Tell me, what was the Trinity?"

"Actually it still exists. It's the Christian doctrine..."

"Excuse me dear, I meant in relations to modeling."

"Oh, the name loosely applied to three supermodels at the time, Linda Evangelista, Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington. I tend to read top women's magazines and watch TV apparel and women's chat shows."

"Well that's very encouraging but you know the starting age for catwalk models is now down to sixteen-seventeen?"

"Oh yes, I watched that documentary made on your career that first appeared three years ago. I figured you watched me walk and an idea sprang into your mind – probably stockings, dress lengths, the turn for modeling new season's coats or more probably the walk-off woman in TV ads."

Miss J smiled and stared. "You are almost beautiful as well."

"As well as what?"

"Having a great ass, sensational legs and, from what I have just heard, you are also very astute. Do you do drugs?"

"No."

"Alcohol?"

"Never more than moderately."

Miss J pulled out a notebook. "Please tell me about yourself dear including any physical defects you know about including body scars and tats."

* * *

A month into the training program Starre said to Miss J's personal assistant Belene that she was finding the demands being made on her too difficult and she wanted out.

"Miss J has been waiting for you to come to that conclusion. We believe modeling is not for you. May I make an appointment for you to see her – she'll want personally to say goodbye."

"Yes, of course."

Two days later after quitting Starre lunched with Miss J in her office.

"You have potential if steered in the right direction but it will be heavy going."

"No thanks Miss J. I've given it my best shot but have ended up struggling. I have no wish to struggle in life."

"Well said, I wish I'd had your brains."

Starre saying nothing, thinking at sixty-one Miss J was a multi-millionaire but then thought she probably could have married one at the age of perhaps twenty-two when making a name for herself as a model.

"Darling, would you give me the change of making some good money out of you. It will take two week's max."

"Yes of course providing it's legal and I get a discount in buying my way out of my broken contract?"

"Your contract was shredded this morning Starre."

"Oh."

Two days later Starre at last struck lucky at an advertising agency, the third to assess her. She began an immediate video test – walking into a room and walking out again. The young director showed her the result and said he thought they could do something with her. Unsuccessfully trying to hide his wolfish grin he said, "Perhaps we would draft contact details in bed?"

Starre was not so green to fall for that one. But she went with him anyway because he was sweet and looked the kind of guy to have no hair on his chest.

Kevin spilled a breast from the bra into his hand and appeared to have found one of Atalanta's Golden Apples. He kissed it and licked it lasciviously while Starre slowly undressed. Kevin's attention then turned to the Golden Peach and his efforts to enter his head through that portal sent Starre into waves of release. He then launched his engorged cock into the highly sensitive channel looking for something – perhaps buried treasure but they then lost the plot and began thrusting and counter-thrusting until both collapsed, exhausted.

They never got around to discuss details but Kevin's boss invited Starre in next day and while lunching in his office in a sixty-nine position he paused long enough to say the contract was ready for her to sign and immediately she did that the client's agent would sign another contract engaging her for six months at $50,000 a month.

* * *

Orion Haar arrived in London to stay with Ritchie West. Ritchie and Orion's father had gone through high school and college together. Ritchie was director of a theatre company and had married only recently after his second divorce to Isobel, a wealthy young woman.

A maid greeted Orion's arrival at the huge home with its lawn running down to the River Thames.

"Ma'am is having a bath sir."

A voice rang out lyrically, "Oh bring our handsome young guest to my arms my listless wench."

"Ma'am is in one of her lighter moods," whispered the maid with orange hair mostly hidden under a cap and who was troubled by anorexia and skin eruptions. "She's joking."

"Hurry Eli, bring him to me."

"Oh God, she's not joking. Follow me sir."

Orion was left in the bathroom and looked down in disappointment. Apart from her head and neck, Isobel was covered by a visually whiteout of bubbles. But all was not lost.

"Orion – we received email images but God, they don't do you justice. You are gorgeous. Undress and climb in. I'm so happy to have a guy of my own age around here." She called out, Eli a gin on the rocks for me and..."

"Lager beer."

"...and lager beer also a bathrobe for our traveler."

Orion knew the British had a reputation for being eccentric, but what was this called?

Blushing he undressed and heard hisses that he hoped were expressions of, um, glee.

"Here allow me to help you get in," Isobel said, cupping his cock and balls. "Sit down the opposite end to me but a kiss and a wee play with my breasts first."

Eli came in with the drinks and appeared indifferent, looking at Orion as if he had every right to be in the bath with her mistress. When she left Isobel gave Orion a foot job while they sipped their drinks and she laughed delightedly as he raised his erection tip out of the water to shoot the load, some reaching her face.

They then spent the rest of the day in bed. It was a culture thing really, according to Isobel. She said in the main the English didn't even know what anal referred to in the sexual environment apart from enemas. So after a lovely missionary that lasted almost an hour she invited the American to ass fuck her, saying she believed all Americans were experts. But before that commenced Eli was sent to the village to buy the appropriate lube.

Isobel provided to be an ass virgin and a lively pupil. She took so long accommodating each half-inch and screamed and gurgled so much that only by extreme concentration was Orion able to avoid a series of premature ejaculations.

"God, how big are you?"

He lied, "Fourteen inches."

She convulsed into laughter and floated into a release than left her panting so during the diversion he managed to slip another inch or so in. They finally got underway but it was a bit uncomfortable for her so she squeezed, he came, and that ended the lesson.

"We must do this twice a day until it comes naturally for me,' she said, kissing him and saying they must shower and dress to be prepared for Ritchie's arrival home.

"Will he want sex with you before we dine?"

She laughed and said, "Oh God no. He'd run a mile if I flashed pussy at him. He is gay. He married me to keep up appearances and what I got out of the nuptials was access to other women's husbands. Any woman having an affair with an unmarried man is frowned upon in society in London.

"Ritchie will be a little stiff upper lip with you for a couple of days but once he's comfortable about the ease in which you and I related he'll suggest you sleep with me."

"I can't believe this."

"Why not? It's really couth behavior – he being generous to his young guest. Besides Ritchie and I sleep four bedroom suites apart."

Over coming months Orion went to bed with Isobel and her friend Joanna, Isobel and Maureen, Isobel and Laura and her mother Hannah, Isobel and Janice and Isobel and Lady Helen. It was that last threesome that ended Orion's happy but somewhat tiring induction to English society. Lady Helen induced him to live with her and her ailing and much older husband to become Geoffrey's personal assistant to help him out of the car and up the steps to the elevators and to keep him awake during important meetings. Only then did Lady Helen learn Orion had a business degree so arranged for him to complete a masters in business administration. Between their fucking and his duties with Lord Hoskins, Helen assisted Orion with his academic studies. He studied online through the University of Wales and took three years to graduate. Orion and Helen believed the night he graduated what the night 33-year-old Helen became pregnant.

Pregnancy came at an awkward time. Sir Geoffrey wasn't that close to death to avoid social embarrassment but a few weeks later, with Orion and Lady Helen still with their secret intact, Lord Hoskins suffered a massive coronary while attending the funeral of a former mistress and died six hours later.

Orion stayed at Helen's side throughout and she called a newspaper editor and the news spread throughout the business media that young American Orion Haar was to become the late Lord Hoskins successor as chairman of Hoskins Food Supplies, Pty. The board was astonished and called a special meeting to denounce the rumor but when the recommendation was put to vote Lady Helen had sufficient proxies held in her own name, in her late husband's name as his sole beneficiary and proxies from two absentee directors to defeat the move. Orion was called into the boardroom after being voted in as chairman, the second youngest person to head a multinational company in all of Europe.

Starre went to London for four days to stay with Lady Helen and Orion (Helen retained her title for life). Starre couldn't believe how far Orion had advanced in four years. The engagement of Lady Helen and Orion was announced a few weeks later and a month later she began telling friends she was pregnant.

CHAPTER 2

Back in New York Starre took Miss J to lunch and whined about her lack of real career direction.

"You are doing exceedingly well as a TV and print media model, earning top-shelf fees," said Starre's mentor. "The truth is if you want to drive your life with really big money and quickly you have two options: steal the money or marry someone really wealthy."

They talked that through and as Miss J was stepping into her limo she kissed Starre and said, "Remember this honey: a millionaire is chicken shit."

That encounter left Starre with a lot to think about. The advertisement in which she walked into a stuffy gentleman's club wearing a white shirt and long black waiter's apron carrying a tray full of Heard's Ready to Pour Aperitif's with the departing shot of her from the back showing her dressed only in panties, garter belt and black stockings had already earned her $272,000 in modeling frees and her tiny percentage from royalties. Her face now appeared in magazines with syndicated captions or full interviews and columnists and fashion writers commonly referred to Starre Haar's incredible legs and butt (or backside in European publications). 

The time came when Starre's exclusive contract with Heard's was due to expire soon. She decided not to renew and hired a woman as her agent to find her a new opportunity.

Starre walked into the office of Hilda Hope of Hilda Hope International, and Hilda pulled a cheroot from her mouth, puffed and said, "Stockings. Hi Starre."

"Oh sorry," Starre said, looking down at her black near-sheer stockings. "A ladder or bird shit?"

Hilda just laughed.

"Oh God, you smoke. Mind if I sit way over here."

Starre looked at the fat bitch whose stomach was vibrating in laughter and thought what was she doing here. She then made the stupidest statement of her life: "I'm leaving."

Fortunately for Starre Hilda reacted too fast for her. As Starre stood to leave Hilda yelled, subbing out her slender cigar, "Betty, lock my door!"

Starre heard the door lock and snarled at Hilda, "How dare you."

"Young lady, you are going nowhere until you place those million dollar legs in my care under contract."

Two weeks later Hilda delivered Starre into a luxury hotel suite. Hilda was asked to stay in the reception room while a woman led Starre away. After Starre had changed into a supplied pair of stockings she was lead into a noisy office filled with people.

"Ah, Miss Haar, how poetic that sounds," said the handsome Frenchman aged about forty. "We have flown over especially to see you and are not expecting to be disappointed. My name is Arnaud LaBelle and I deputize for my father who at the last moment could not come, much to his disappointment. However if we make a contract you will come to Paris for the signing, and your agent of course who is also a licensed attorney."

"Welcome to America Mr LaBelle. "I too am not expecting disappointment."

The LaBelle range of high quality stockings was little known in America but sold hugely throughout Europe and into Russia.

"Up on to the desk Miss Haar, keep your shoes on."

"Good, now removed your skirt."

Starre didn't hesitate, having had modeling training. But she went slowly, staring at the client.

"Oh excellent, this is good. Oh it's stupendous. Just look at our Go-Gigi stockings."

People clapped, cameras flashed and Starre felt delighted. Arnaud stepped over and ran his hand up her inside leg from the ankle. He kept going beyond the knee and looked at her intently.

Starre had to make an instant decision, a commercial decision. She calmly opened her legs and felt Arnaud's fingers dip under her thong and enter her.

Still looking at her Arnaud withdrew his fingers and sucked them. Some of the women present gasped.

"Please leave the room everybody."

Everybody hurried out as Arnaud removed his jacket and tie.

"Is my behavior un-America?"

"I would think not."

"Will you acquiesce?"

"Yes, Starre said, kicking off her shoes and prepared to sprawl over the desk.

"Why?"

"It's a commercial decision. As you are aware, I don't know you Mr LaBelle."

He grinned and unbuckled.

Starre grunted as his six-inch or so but very fat dick slammed into her. She though because she was not French he had acted arrogantly, not preparing her.

She held back as he huffed, "Are you almost ready."

She drawled no and said he was good.

"When?" he panted.

"Soon."

Red-faced and gasping he asked how soon.

"Just pull out and shoot over me."

"No, I'm a gentleman. Ladies first."

She waited until the guy was almost in a state of collapse and then gushed, making rather a lot of extra noise.

He shouted Long Live France, hauled off his condom and splat a couple of streaks over her belly. Christ, thought Starre. He should see what her brother could do.

"Oh victory, how sweet," she called and almost out on his feet Arnaud said, "You are one hell of a woman Starre Haar."

Hilda and Starre went to Paris for two days for the signing of the contract where Arnaud fucked Starre six more times and thought he was improving because each time it was over in twenty minutes instead of a repeat of their form epic of almost seventy minutes.

The Americans then went to London to stay two nights with Lady Helen and Orion. They traveled from Paris by train via the undersea tunnel and were at London's St Pancreas Station inside two hours where the twins had a joyful reunion. They went as a foursome to a theatre on the first night and to late dinner. Next day Hilda went out all day and evening to meet old friends. Helen, Orion and Starre went to bed together several times but they still managed to show Starre around the city and to Orion's delight the two women got on like close sisters although they did things together and with him that not all sisters do.

On the aircraft flying to New York Starre thought Orion really was the perfect husband for her. She wondered if a replica existed.

The stocking TV and cinema ads were a sensation and were immediately banned in some countries but a backup film showing Starre wearing panties and bra and not having a naughty affair at a railway station was made available in those countries insisting on good standards, to their credit. The ads began in color with the model that many people, at least in New York, knew was Starre but turned into mono color during the supposedly sex scene with the cameras focused solely on the stockings and wriggling butt and blurred shots across her pussy as it merged into another dark mass.


Releasing the Slut Within



The introduction of LaBelle stockings into America was a sensation, with long lines of women waiting at stores to buy them. Apparently it was though wear those stockings and a woman would get all the romantic sex she could wish for and not necessarily at railway stations.

The Bible-bashers emerged from the woodwork and many stores selling LaBelle stockings received the attention of picket lines. News editors couldn't believe that masses of people were now declaring the moral decline in America was attributable to French stockings.

Meanwhile Hilda Hope was busy generating income for her and Starre. Three top women's magazines came out with different interviews with Starre for which they paid dearly to obtain as exclusives: 'Starre's Views on Sex', Starre's Rise from a Nobody to Supermodel' and the real blockbuster, 'Starre Says Stockings Sauce Up Sex.' The Sauce Up Sex caught the imagination of (some) American women and that magazine had to treble its pressrun for that particular issue to meet demand. TV shows and talkback radio stations paid handsomely for Starre's services.

Starre was flown overnight to Paris for a half-hour televised interview in a huge theatre – screened live on a network in America in which she was interviewed by Arnaud LaBelle, TV presenter, a renown womanizer (the American TV station bleeped that mention) and elder son of a stockings manufacturer. A quarter of the studio audience were French celebrities who attend a soiree after the interviewer to honor Starre in person. That event generated enormous publicity for LaBelle stockings, the TV studio, Arnaud and Starre. Back in New York Starre knew she'd have to act fast because stardom over single-act achievement was a little like daylight – it expired all too soon.

Starre had lunch with her mentor and said she was ready to marry a billionaire.

Miss J laughed and said so a millionaire had become a billionaire. "Now you're talking girl. Just remember they are a little thin on the ground."

Starre said she knew that and had hoped Miss J could help out.

"Sorry darling, my contacts are non-existent. I know several widows of billionaires but that's of no help to you. But girl, why are you talking to me about this. Your best contact is right under you nose."

"Really, who?"

"Hilda Hope, that's who. You only see her how she looks today. She and I kicked around in the same gang when were young women. I was better looking but she had such a big pussy the guys used to ask if they could borrow it to play football. Her reputation spread and soon she was being offered more jock than she could handle so she went up-market and went for the guys who drove daddy's flash car and have wallets stuffed with his money. I would think some of those young guys are today's billionaires. Go chat with your agent darling."

Hilda snorted: "Janis Brooks told you that?"

"Who?"

"Miss Jacqui or Miss J or whoever she calls herself. I grew up with her in Boston. More times that I can remember she scored with three or four guys in a night and that's not counting groupies because we didn't ever tinker with them. She was so hot she didn't wear panties because they'd burn straight off her and anyway she never had much time to get them back on." 

"You're kidding me. Are we talking about the same person? The Miss J I know is a lady, so elegant."

"You and I are talking about the same person. It's just that I knew she picked you up at JFK and placed you under training but you quit, so I thought it would be embarrassing to you if I brought up the shaky start to your career."

"Ohmigod, the two women most influential in my life apart from my mom are formerly the biggest sluts in Boston's history."

"I very much doubt that. Look one of my former lovers who became a billionaire is avionics manufacturer Biggles Johnston but he's only just married for the seventh time. Leave this with me and I'll give it some thought.

Two days later Hilda showed a list of seven names to Starre and shook her head sadly. One name was circled. "Five of those others are deceased and the other is jailed for life."

"So we have one."

"Yep, Paul Ridge. Currently between marriages, gets around on a walking frame and is only fifty-six. Suffered a severe ski accident two years ago and has had only partially successful spinal surgery."

"Well, I suppose that's not too bad."

"Children?"

"None – apparently sterile."

"Right, set up a date for us to meet. You better accompany me."

"Will try but it might be a long wait. Half a million women, give or take a few, are attempting to marry him."

"Oh crap."

"When he sees my name on the waiting list he'll push us up the waiting list."

"Wow, what did you do for him?"

Hilda turned red and told Starre to shut her mouth.

Starre asked how did Paul make his money?

"Manufacturing dog and cat foods."

"Oh yuck. How can I associate with a man who made his money like that?"

"Look at it this way, dogs and cats have to eat."

"You're right Hilda. Please set up a meeting for us."

"Good, I'll also enclose a DVD of your Stockings clips."

The next morning Hilda was breathless when she called Starre. "Lunch with him at 1:00 today."

"Who? Paul. I cannot believe this. I have an asthma attack coming on."

The upshot of that luncheon was a month later Paul Ridge and Hilda married.

CHAPTER 3

Starre went to Hilda's funeral. Paul was now permanently in a wheel chair after suffering more spinal injury in the car crash that had killed his chauffer and Hilda. Paul had noticed Starre arrived early to view the body and was captivated – he'd say later quite the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen crying. Paul had asked Starre to sit with him at the commitment to hold his hand.

"There are other women more willing than I to do that."

"But none were Hilda's friend like you were."

Starre burst into tears and said she would sit with him and Paul said he'd order in another wheelchair.

A month later they married with Orion and their family attending the small, private service. Only eighteen months later Starre would inherit $1052 million after disbursements including taxes and bequests to charities. Paul had been in his wheelchair watching Starre making her first parachute jump when one of the novice's parachute only partially opened and he landed on Paul, killing him outright, but the soft landing saved the parachutist's life.

The bizarre death generated huge media attention and Starre went to ground, staying with a widowed aunt in a sleepy town were nearby New York seemed a million miles away because it was a farming district. Miss J who'd being terribly upset at the funeral called Starre three weeks after the tragedy and said she was going to Boston to visit old acquaintances of Hilda's and talked Starre is going with her. Starre had hired a very respected financial company to manager her financial affairs with instructions to liquidate all her properties and to invest in stock and securities in Europe, Australia and South Africa as her advisers had recommended she should spread her risks. That also put a barrier between her and people and organizations begging for money and of course disappearing helped with that. She engaged a personal assistant, working from home, to deal with all correspondence addressed to her, Paul and Paul's estate.

Starre caught a train and met Miss J in her limo and they were then driven on to Boston, Miss J making one particular stop to encourage Starre to change into very ordinary clothing and to buy dark glasses and wide-brim hats and to change her lip gloss to very dull red. Even Starre had to admit she looked dowdy – not a person worth a second look. Miss J was already dressed down and had arranged with her chauffer to switch to a hired base model Chevy sedan when they arrived in Boston. 

At they drove along Miss J said, "Your life becomes gray and you become listless when someone close to you dies, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Starre said. "Although Paul was aware I married him for his money he was kind, we often had sex and I came to really respect him, not love him. I guess he was more like an uncle to me."

"Well baby, he was proud of you and it showed. You brought back friends he'd lost through the bitchiness of former wives. But let's not dwell on Paul. You need some young blood around you to heat up your interest in your pussy."

"I guess so."

"Well don't drown me in enthusiasm."

The plan was to stay in Miss J's small house she maintained in Boston but on the way she stopped to say hello to Mary Woodhouse who lived in a mansion with her husband, their children long gone. So Miss J decided they would stay there and there was even suitable accommodation for the chauffer.

When being introduced to Mary as Lara, Jacqui's traveling personal assistant, Starre became acutely aware of something she already knew called age gap. All these women and some guys Miss J would be looking up where around her age – sixty-two – whereas she'd turn only thirty towards the end of the year. Not good. Strangely in the six and a half years she'd known Miss J, the aged gap had never loomed like this. Well, obvious Miss J thought and dressed young because she spent her life being associated with younger females, some as young as sixteen.

Mary, a surgeon's wife and she a recently retired school principal, broached the subject.

"Lara, you'll be bored stiff when we old girls get together to chew cud. Would it be agreeable if I call my pool guy who's having a year off university lecturing before he resumes studying for his doctorate to take you to a movie or whatever?"

"Whatever?"

"Mary means parking."

Mary laughed and said Jacqui had an unusual mind. "I meant alternatives such as art galleries, theatre, ball games – whatever young people do."

"Please don't mention parking to him. I feel I'm rather too old for that."

The two women looked at Lara (Starre) and laughed.

Mary called Tom and he was knocking on the door inside twenty minutes, smartly dressed and told Mary he was ready to take her visitor to the movies.

Tom Kirby with unruly blond hair around his shoulders and incredibly green eyes looked at Lara and before Mary had time to introduce him said. "Jesus."

Mary looked concerned and asked Tom what was wrong.

"She's Starre Haar. I have a nude poster of you Starre taken during a break during the stockings shoot."

Starre was of course not wearing her dark glasses or hat.

"How much nude?"

"Absolute full frontal and at that time you trimmed rather than shaved. Your left foot has blue nail polish and your right foot pink."

Miss J said, "Yes, it's true she is the wealthy model Starre Haar, but she is traveling incognito to get away from the pain and the people who pester her. Mary and Tom, I want you to keep your mouths shut. Starre get ready quickly and go off with Tom. Wear a scarf over your head and wear dark glasses except when the movie starts."

"I promise not to tell a soul," said Tom and Mary said she promised likewise – at least not until Starre left Boston.

Tom's car was powerful and beautifully appointed. 

"You are doing well as a student."

"I have worked as a junior lecturer at a technical college for eighteen months."

"What is you degree?"

Tom said his masters was in chemical engineering, not something Starre would have an interest in.

"Oh I suppose I do, in a roundabout way. I believe I'm the largest individual stockholder in Baylis-Ryan Chemicals in this city. Do you know that outfit?"

"Sure do. I worked two semesters at that plant. It's a good outfit as you call it."

Tom was surprised to learn Starre had a degree in communications, taking a double major in advertising and public relations.

"So, not just a pretty face."

"Likewise," she grinned, at that point knowing if he wanted her to open her legs later, she would oblige.

The movie was a cute romantic film set in Paris and involving a stubborn French woman and a casual American guy and Tom and Starre emerged smiling and when pushed a little in the crush found themselves holding hands and neither moved to let go when the crowd thinned outside the cinema.

"Would you like to dine out?"

"And then what?"

Tom blushed at her directness but continued on manfully. "That would depend on you."

"The alternative is to go straight to a hotel – it's on me."

"Great idea," he grinned and moved in and kissed her. Starre liked that.

"It's still fair early. Could you go to a hotel with a pool?"

"Yeah, the Boston Harbor Hotel has a great pool and spa set-up, according to my mom."

"Good, there's a clothing store still open. Let's go and buy swimsuits. We are well enough dressed to dine in the restaurant or we can eat in the room – silver service if you wish."

"On step at the time, eh? Swim suits first."

They'd admired each other's body at the pool before taking the plunge, knowing that was likely to lead to sex because why else were they there? There was plenty of casual touching, only twice being accidental, and finishing off in the hot spa pool the long stares lengthened and the touching intensified until Starre felt one of her breasts had been freed so pushed it to Tom for attention. She reached down under the wildly bubbling surface of the small pool and really got Tom's attention, bringing a stupid grin to his face when he came up from licking tit flesh.

They cooled off enough to dress and go to the restaurant where the tables seemed rather close together but they'd passed through the stage of groping and instead talked and ate with the purpose of taking plenty of fuel aboard. Both went easy on the wine, Tom surprised by mentioning he often went for days without drinking alcohol, leaving Starre wondering how that was possible. She drunk wine because she always had, since her early teens and of course for years earlier there were stolen sips from the glasses of super-tolerant parents, both of whom came from family lines with slack social standards. Her mother Toss was very unfashionable, being openly hippy-like through the strong influence of mother and grandmother. Somehow Starre turned out to be a distant throwback, exposing a consuming interest in fashion and style at an early age that her mom, being super-tolerant, encouraged rather than suppressed.

"Shall we do it?" Tom asked, making Starre's pulse rate. Starre took his arm and curled her other arm around his back and hooked into his belt to ensure Tom had focus and didn't suggest they go out and look at the harbor in the moonlight. She breathed easy, feeling herself being almost dragged to the elevators. She was wearing only a dress so was nude first and Tom racing was delayed by unbuckling and at the end removing his socks and that told Starre something: he had good habits. Tom took the time to work the tops down over his ankles and remove his socks gently instead of jerking them off by grabbing the toes and stretching them and then grabbing his cock and charging. No, he waited, poised almost on his toes. Only when she raised her arms above her head and push out her boobs did he advance, gently.

Tom was good. He played around with her until she was panting and when she was ready to scream "Put it in!" that's when he did it.

Perfect.

Starre felt ready to tingle that night, ranging from turning slightly so he rubbed more sensitive spots inside her to placing her hand over his to sweep back her hair that kept falling over her face, slowing the pace of his hand so that it because a sensuous action that tingled her.

She came way too early, but that was because she was being treated royally and there was plenty where that came from. When she came off the ceiling Tom said, "Wow, that was early. I'll stop if you wish."

"Oh, what a delightful lover, yes lover but no way did she want him to stop. She picked up her thrusting rate without replying to the question and bit his shoulder, gently. The message was unmistakable and he settled into his work. When he began puffing and turning red Starre pulled away and lay on her back, looking expectantly and the dear man knew what that was about. Two tugs and he began hosing her, quite impressively, one of the bursts making it to her chest. Starre took on the soft smile she knew men including her brother liked at moments like this. 

As Starre rubbed the semen over her breast she saw a pleased and possibly tender look take to his eyes and face. She suspected she had captivated Tom. A big question: was it her and the sex or was it her and her money? She knew that fucking dilemma would now always confront her, even when she married and gave the lucky guy several millions as pocket money. Well, get used to it baby, she sighed.

They rested and chatted until she slipped an arm over Tom's thigh and fiddled to work him up hard again. Then he rolled her, kicked her legs apart and opening her cheeks with his hands kissed, licked and munched. She bucked and squealed – of course. But she was desperately displeased and wanted to shout, 'No Tom, not a butt-fuck on our first date; save it for a night when we require something special'. But she didn't say it, deciding to grit it out. But the next thing she knew he'd spread her thighs really open and entered her conventionally. She practically purred as she thought good boy Tom. His long, regular strokes soon had her soaring and they finally climaxed softly, beautifully, less than twenty seconds apart. Tom rolled off, they made kissing sounds and drifted off to sleep.

Tom wasn't beside her when Starre awoke in the morning and she couldn't hear him in the bathroom so she wept and went back to sleep. A maid knocked and entered with a breakfast trolley at 10:00 and handed her a sealed letter on hotel stationery.

Starre sighed. So he'd done a runner. Feeling hungry she hoed into breakfast and then had a shower and dressed and before doing her hair ripped open the note, not even bothering to scowl. This was not the first time this had happened. Ever since earliest man had gotten his first fuck, men had the urge to run out on women. Er, some men.

'Dear darling. That was such a sweet night. Memorable to the core. I forget to tell you I also work part-time at a local gym as a personal trainer and my first appointment is at 6:00 this morning. Hope to take you out tonight if you are available and want to go a party of fellow lecturers from my tech. They will be loud and rowdy, the whole scene devoid of class and style. But they are good people and only a few are into drugs. You may enjoy – but if that's not for you we can go somewhere else. God you are great at sex. Your weary Tom.'

Two days later, with Starre beginning to wonder if Tom really was Mr Right she took a call from Orion. He said the baby was near due and Helen was extremely unsettled and her mother, two sisters and none of her friends had been able to keep her calm for long. Helen had just told him she wanted Starre to be with her.

"Please darling, can you come?"

"Yes, I'll be heading for the airport within the hour and wait till I can get a seat."

"First class usually has empty seats."

"That I know. Please tell Helen I'm on my way."

It was Saturday and Tom had arrived to lunch with her, Mary, her husband and Miss J. Starre told them about the SOS and the reason for it and everyone was sympathetic. Tom rushed her to the airport. She was so tense she said she didn't want him to stay. When Tom walked away from her, shoulders no longer straight and he not looking back, Starre had the feeling it was the end. Tom would be one of those guys who wanted it all...or nothing. 

"He calls me a great fuck and then appears ready to reject me because I have a short-term commitment. Fucking men!"

Happiness returned when at the booking counter Starre was told she would be embarking in two hours fifteen minutes. She went to a restaurant to eat, tending to want to really eat when sad.




Releasing the Slut Within



CHAPTER 4

Orion was pleased, telling Starre Helen had really bucked up when Starre arrived. That was true but Starre knew that would be short-lived. She'd had a couple of girlfriends who'd suffered mild depression. She faced hard work and uncomfortable times.

Actually that proved to be an over-read of the situation. The first thing she tried to get Helen to focus was on naming the baby. She'd had a scan and was told to expect a girl.

Wisely Starre didn't download lists off names off the Internet. She sat beside Helen in bed holding hands and they came up with names from memory, spending several days at it and by then the new names or repeated names were down to no more than a dozen an hour.

When Orion arrived home Starre would walk for miles or go to a movie to leave Helen to go over with Orion the lists of favored names Orion had composed that day. Finally one evening when Starre returned for dinner two happy faces greeted her. Helen said, "We have complete agreement, sealed with kisses. The name is to be S-t-a-r."

Starre almost reeled in horror. "Oh how could you give a baby such a ridiculous name although at least you have spelt it correctly?"

Helen and Orion laughed and in less than a minute Starre laughed along with them. She wasn't surprised that Helen awoke next morning back into a black mood. Orion went off to work looking rather moody himself so when the maid arrived Starre worked at Orion's laptop and phone and ordered catalogues and used her credit card to have them delivered by express courier. Over the next week she tired Helen looking through the thirty-two catalogues of nursery décor and furniture, toys and clothing for baby girls.

Helen began sleeping during the day and all night and slowly her coloring improved, her mood swings lessened to such an extent that Orion arrived home one evening to find her up and dressed and pouring him a drink, complete with a lovely smile. 

"Ohmigod, my darling is back," Orion crooned.

"Bye," shouted Starre, "I'm eating out tonight."

The couple shouted no, but she'd already was out the front door and off.

On the aircraft two days later Starre thought change was around her. The coming of the baby had been a big test and it had really changed Orion and Helen, pulling them closer. Despite the tough time Helen's depression had given Orion he'd not pulled away from her. Starre hadn't expected to have sex with Helen but with Orion yes, but it hadn't happened. It would appear the relationship between the three of them had petered out.

Perhaps it was time for Starre to change. Now that she was a widow it was not necessary to retain the name Mrs Ridge. She'd rarely used it anyway. She decided to get her name changed for her passport, with the IRS, with her financial adviser company, on all registered documents – everything – to Miss Star Haar, not that she would advise her family she'd also dropped and 'r' and an 'e' from her name. Star then planned her future and then planned her 30th birthday celebrations. She decided to have the party in London, flying in around a dozen people closest to her in American. After arriving in New York she lunched with Miss J, issuing her with the birthday invitation and saying it included her bringing a friend, and then went to stay with her parents for a few days at Hopewell Junction. En route when she stopped for coffee Star called Helen and asked her to arrange a suitable date for the birthday bash for them and to book the venue. Helen sounded bright and said she was fine.

When back in New York Star leased an apartment and took the first step in her business career. She advertised for a tutor in advanced business management and received almost 300 replies. She'd requested they be in writing enclosing a CV. Generally impressed at the apparent caliber of respondents, Star thought she might have similar success advertising for a live-in lover but balked at the idea, thinking it would happen. It did.

She ended up with a shortlist of three, two women and a guy much older than herself. She thought that would be best, sex not interfering with tutoring. Both women suggested one hundred bucks an hour and the guy $170, so she prudently went to the women first and decided either one would do. Since the guy was very close to her apartment she decided to see him and was very pleased she did that. Harry Patton looked rather like her Uncle Joe, was bright with a lively humor and stroked his moustache when thinking deeply as he did when she said she wanted to study online for a masters of business administration and graduate in two years. Harry who'd lectured in business management and finance for almost thirty years and was now retired, stoked his moustache and said that would be pushing it but added, "Of course that's why you require a tutor...to provide leadership and to show you shortcuts and to keep you focused."

"Yes, exactly."

"May I ask, do you always dress beautifully like this and wear exquisite perfume like that?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll reduce my fee to $120. It will be a real pleasure working with you and I would require us to work here, not where you live. I have fast cable Internet."

"That's fine but you thought you were worth $170 and hour so that's what I'll pay you."

"So I'm hired?"

"Yes."

"Pardon me but I am required by my son that he must check you out before I take on any student. You see my wife is away visiting her folk in Italy for two months. She insisted Tony check out any major decisions before I commit. He's five minutes away."

"That's fine."

An hour later Tony and his father were eating in an Italian restaurant as Star's guests.

"I'm very pleased you have engaged dad as it will boost his income and give him a big interest. He misses university life but remains involved in small ways."

"Tony is a good boy," Harry said, sauce on his chin.

Tony was an executive in advertising and Star had seen him looking at her rather closely, so Star said, "Does my name mean anything to you Tony?"

"It rang a bell but that's all. I've been trying to figure it out but haven't hit the bell."

Star laughed and Harry laughed but Harry seemed unsure of the joke.

"Stockings."

"Jesus!"

Harry wiped his chin and said, "You two are getting along fine. I'm off home to watch 'City Girls on the Loose'.

He shook Star's hand, winked at his son and was off.

"Is he trying to set us up?"

"Yup he was then, but having me in to check you out was a commitment we have with mom."

"Thank you for your honesty. Are you married or engaged?"

"I'm all over an older woman at the moment but she is showing signs of taking her cur of a husband back."

"All over an older woman. That's a new expression for me. Please tell me what it means?"

Toni's half-Italian complexion deepened in color and he croaked, "More wine?"

"No, let's go to a bar where it's more intimate. I'd like to hear about the women you've been all over and what gives you kicks. I'm back with your father at 3:00 tomorrow to start looking for the best online MBA program that allows accelerated learning and after that you might wish to take me to some clubs. Being your uninvited guest I'll pay so you better dress up and take me top shelf."

Tony swallowed and attempted a cheesy grin. "I'd like that Star. Tell me, after a few drinks would you like to check out my apartment?"

"Oh Tony, I do have to tell you I enjoy behaving like a slut at times. My thinking is this night is one of those nights."

Star had decided to commit to lifting her education qualification and to seek election to the boards of some of the companies in which she would invest heavily. She probably never would remarry but intended perfecting her favorite recreational interest by gaining wider experience with available men. She'd choose guys who just loved hanging out with a slut who didn't charge them for her favors. That meant probably most guys, if only they knew it.

THE END