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Coming to America

By: amsterdam



So why should you read this story amongst the thousands of others here? Well, I like developing characters within a full story, told with a touch of humour, great dialogue, a dash of realism, and an added twist or two just for good measure. If this sounds like your kind of recipe, then please read on and remember to vote at the end! If not, then thanks for checking it out anyway and good luck in finding your wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am story! 

*

"Look at all these losers, you find them everywhere." 

Looking around the pub as the words drifted out of the speakers above me, I wondered if someone was having some fun at my expense. There was no one within six feet of the jukebox, so I chalked it up to coincidence that the song playing now was the third that could have been about me.

"You wish that you were special, I'm just like you," continued Nina Persson's sweet voice.

Until today I'd been happy with life. But today, well, today was different. Today I turned thirty and I wasn't happy. 

"Russ!" 

I looked up to see all my mates laughing at me.

"Come on, Walter Mitty! The balls are fed up of waiting!" 

Smiling sheepishly, I got up to take my turn on the pool table, smacking the white for all it was worth, sending spots and stripes scattering everywhere. Everywhere except into a pocket. 

"Rubbish! He turns thirty and can't even play pool anymore!" Queue another round of raucous laughter. 

"Very funny lads. I'll have you in the next game, don't worry." 

They weren't far wrong though. I couldn't believe that I was thirty. Bloody thirty years old! Responsible people were thirty years old. People achieved things by the time they were thirty. Until now things had seemed to take their natural course and I got on with life in a contented manner. I'd had a happy childhood, a decent education and a stint as a singer for a rock band that never quite made it out of the local pub scene. I was now a married man in a steady nine-to-five office job, working for the local paper selling advertising. I was good at it, but it bored me. I resented the fact that my creative yearnings were still not satisfied. 

I sat down, nursing my bottle of Budweiser as the banter continued, my mates still eagerly competing their fifth game of killer. My head was stuffed full of negative thoughts; chiefly, that there should be something more to life. Taking a swig of Bud, I told myself to snap out of it. Surely I wasn't the first person to feel like this upon reaching an age milestone. The Cardigans finished singing about "Losers" and "Is this it?" by The Strokes came bursting from the speakers. The jukebox was taunting me.

Later that night, snuggling up to Susan and fuelled by alcohol, I decided to pour out my heart. I'd had enough of my dead-end job and it didn't help that Susan's career had gone into overdrive. I realised that the chances of me leaving my mark on the world rested somewhere between slim and none with the later being a five-to-one favourite. 

"Susan," I slurred, my voice a touch whiny. 

"What?" she replied sharply, probably thinking I wanted a birthday shag. 

"Nothing. Doesn't matter." I rolled over and switched off the bedside light. 

She turned over and put her arm around my waist. "I'm sorry sweetie. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just a little tired that's all. Did you have a nice birthday?" 

"Yes thanks. Well, no. Oh I don't know." 

"What do you mean? What's wrong with you honey? Need some stress relief?" she asked, stifling a giggle as her hand snaked toward my crotch.

"No, no. It's okay." Grasping her hand, I moved it back to my stomach, rolling over at the same time to look at her. She tenderly raised her hand to my cheek.

"Must be something serious if you're turning that down," she said with genuine concern in her voice. "What is it?" 

"It's my life, its rubbish." 

She frowned at me. "You're joking right? Come here Mister beer breath." She laughed, making another grab for my crown jewels. 

I squirmed out of the way and sat up in bed, switching the light on. "Stop it , Susie. I'm serious." I could tell from the look in her face that she knew I wasn't joking around.

"Sorry honey. What's wrong? Is it me? Tell me." 

"No, course it's not you." How could it be her? She was too good for words. "It's just, oh this is going to sound silly. Maybe we should talk about it when I'm sober." 

"You can't make a profound statement like 'my life is crap' and then ask me to forget about it. Tell me!" 

"I never said it was crap. I said it was rubbish." She raised an eyebrow and I knew it was time to get to the point. "I need more from my life. I need to leave something behind, be remembered. You know?" For a moment I thought she was going to laugh at me again.

"I thought we decided that your chances of making it as a rock star were dead and buried," she said with a soft smile. 

"They are, but there's got to be something else. This job is killing me. I need to get off the road to nowhere and do something I enjoy. Let my creative juices out." 

"What's stopping you?" she asked. 

I paused for a moment, thinking about it before answering. "Money for starters, then there's everybody else. What would people say if I gave up a perfectly good job to chase an unrealistic dream? Your parents, my parents, our friends; I wouldn't know what to say to them." 

"Well you're never going to know unless you try are you?" she answered, tilting her head to the side in a knowing manner. "You can forget the money too. We can comfortably live on my wage and who gives a flying fuck what anyone else says? It's your life Russ. If you're unhappy, then pack it in and do something else." 

I looked at her in wonder for a moment. How could I have ever doubted that she'd understand, or that she would support me? "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. What is it you have in mind?" 

"I need to finish that book that I started years ago, maybe even write a new one. I've had loads of ideas lately." 

"I always said you should have finished it. I love your stories. If nothing comes of it, then you can always look for something else." 

"Are you sure about this Susie?" 

"Sure I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Now come here big boy." Her smile developed into a wicked grin as her hands began to roam over my chest. She crouched forward and pulled the duvet from on top of me. 

I smiled widely as my body relaxed and Susan's fingers busied themselves, gently rubbing my tingling nipples, her skilful tongue dancing around my stiffening cock. I knew I would never grow tired of my wife's blow jobs. She gave the impression that she enjoyed giving them as much as I loved receiving them. 

"Mmmm, Russ," she purred. "You're so fucking hard. Are you going to cum for me sweetie?" 

"Uh-huh," I replied, nodding my head. She held my gaze as she worked her tongue over my cock, teasing me, pausing to moan, her breath hot against the trail of sticky saliva on my shaft. 

"Come on then baby, cum for me. Mmmm...cum in my mouth." 

I moaned deeply, her smooth lips noisily moving up and down my erect pole, her tongue dwelling over the head of my penis before working down over my corona and shaft. My breathing quickened as my nuts began to tighten. "Oh fuck," I murmured incoherently. Sensing I was close to ejaculation, Susan increased her tempo and pulled harder on my erotically charged nipples. I gripped Susie's hair and held on tightly, moaning and groaning as she worked me to climax, jacking me off into her waiting mouth. 

"Oh fuck yes!" I cried as semen spurted from my pulsating cock. As the spasms subsided, I managed, "Susie, I love you." Then my world went black. 

I slowly opened my eyes to see Susan's smirking face looking down at me, her tongue hungrily licking the last drop of semen hanging from her wet pink lips. She swallowed and moved up the bed to kiss me softly. 

"Happy thirtieth birthday sweetie." 

I woke up the next morning in a determined mood. I'm not sure who was more astonished when I marched into my boss's office and laid my resignation letter on the desk, her or me. She tried to talk me out of it, which was flattering, but the prospect of having to wait another two years for the next round of promotions confirmed that I was doing the right thing. 

Doubts started building over the next two weeks and on my last day at work, reality struck. I got home feeling very alone, wondering what I'd done. I hadn't even so much as re-read the novel I started when I was twenty-five. I was worried that I was going to read it and think it wasn't good enough. Worried that I wouldn't come up with a good enough ending, worried that I'd made a huge mistake. 

Once again, Susie came to the rescue. She told me to relax for a few days, wind down and enjoy my freedom. She gave me a book to read and bought me a CD to help me chill out. She never ceased to amaze me. I picked up the paperback the next day and switched on the ambient CD. The book was called Dead Unlucky by Simon Hague and by anyone's standards, it was an awful work of fiction. I gave up after three chapters, realising what Susie had done. I shook my head at the book, knowing that I could do better. 

I sat down at the PC immediately and began to edit what I'd already completed on my half-finished novel. I'd always enjoyed writing, mainly short stories, a diary every night, hundreds of letters and e-mails to friends the world over and a few songs for the band, but this was different. I felt incredibly pressured to get it right, make it better than average, and to have a finished work to be proud of. It also felt good, the creative juices flowing from me, giving me an energy and self-satisfaction I hadn't felt in years. Whenever the frequent doubts began to pervade my mind, I thought of Susie's encouraging words and the work of Simon Hague. 

I spent the next six months finishing the novel, a crime story set in my hometown of Sheffield. I didn't think it was great but it was a start. I gave copies to friends and family to read and they were all encouraging. Unfortunately, the pile of rejection letters that came in a steady stream through the letterbox told me I still had a long way to go. 

I tried something very different for my second effort: a romantic story. It didn't flow as smoothly but I persisted and finished it within four months. Another avalanche of rejection letters indicating that romance probably wasn't my forte. Even so, I felt my writing was improving all the time. I subscribed to writing magazines and joined a creative writing class in an attempt to reach my goal of getting my work published, dedicating six hours a day, seven days a week to my craft. 

My third effort gave me the breakthrough I'd been looking for. I finished it roughly two years after quitting my sales job. I used the same character from the first novel but this time I felt the story was better. It was about a computer programmer who lured young bi-curious married women to various city locations, holding them captive, taunting the police and killing the victims mercilessly. Two publishers wrote back and said they wanted to see the rest of the book after reading the first two chapters and eventually one of them took a chance on me. Just turned thirty-three, my first novel, Cyber Trap, was published. 

I was as happy as I'd ever been, delighted that my hard work and persistence had paid off; relieved that I'd taken a chance on life and it had been kind enough to reward me. I used some of the advance I received from the publishing company to take Susie for celebratory weekend in Paris where we shagged like rabbits in a luxurious five-star hotel. Life was fantastic and it was to soon get even better.

* * * * * 

Two years and another successful novel later, I stepped off a plane into the sun kissed oasis of Los Angeles, pinching myself to ensure I wasn't dreaming. Bob Chay, a representative of the film company UIP, greeted me with a toothy smile and an enthusiastic handshake. He was to be my personal assistant throughout the duration of my stay. I was in LA to choose the music for the film they were making of my book. My agent managed to get that crazy clause into the deal we signed with UIP and I was about to experience a whole new chapter in my life. 

Bob had about ten years on me and had always lived in LA. He was married, had a daughter and was enthusiastic about his job. He seemed like a genuine guy and had, "loved the book. Just loved it." He asked me about my work, when the next book was due etc. He made me feel like a genuine superstar. I guess he was good at what he did. 

On the way to the hotel, he told me that my first scheduled meeting had been postponed for two days but that I was welcome to sit in on some of the other production get-togethers as an observer. He said it wasn't such a bad thing. It'd give me time to find my feet and get a feel for the corporation and the city. He also had a big smile across his ruddy face as he told me that negotiations were at an advanced stage with an A-list star to take the lead role of Detective Inspector Monaghan in the film. He wouldn't divulge any names though. 

It was all mind-blowing stuff. America, LA, Hollywood, the talk of famous actors and actresses starring in a movie based on my book, the five star hotel I was staying in, the chance to get a real insight into the movie business. Certainly a far cry from writing reports, taking mundane phone calls and watching the clock every ten minutes, willing the hands to go quicker than was physically possible. 

I called Susan from the hotel room once I'd bounced up and down on the bed a few times and taken in the pool view from my balcony. "Susie! I'm here! The sun's shining, they're going to get someone really famous to play the part of Monaghan, I have someone assigned to look after me for this whole trip, the hotel room is..."

"Honey slow down!" she said, her voice turning to laughter at the other end of the line. "You'll run out of breath and then you'll be no use to anybody!" 

I laughed. "Sorry! I'm just so excited and all it's all because of you. I love you Susie." 

We talked for forty minutes before she told me she needed to go to bed. I'd forgotten about the time difference and strangely didn't feel tired. Bob had invited me to go for dinner with his family later on and I'd accepted. I thought I should probably lie down for an hour after the long flight, but the adrenaline was pumping through me. I donned my shorts and headed to the pool. I could only stand and grin when I saw a woman down there engrossed in my novel. 

That night, dinner with Bob and his wife and daughter was pleasant, the restaurant expensive, stylish and in keeping with the trip so far. As I sat there soaking in the atmosphere, enjoying the different company and strange accents around me, I wondered how long it would be before Susan and I would expand our family. We'd put any talk of this on the back burner since I'd had my success. 

I slept like a baby that night and woke feeling refreshed. I sat in awe through the two meetings I attended at UIP. In the first, they made the decision to set the film in Pittsburgh, wanting to keep a similar dark and unforgiving setting to the book. Next, I sat in with the casting director and her staff as they discussed several of the characters, including the fourth victim who escapes and helps Monaghan to catch the killer. The list of possible stars to play the part included Sarah Michelle Geller, Kylie Minogue, Jennifer Aniston and even Britney Spears. I couldn't help grinning as I imagined sharing a bed with those four! I was buzzing when I came out and called Bob as soon as I got back to my room. 

"Hey buddy!" Bob answered. "Good day?"

"Bob, I couldn't describe just how good. Un-be-fuckin-lievable day, Bob. Just incredible." 

"Great Russ, that's great. You wanna go out and grab some dinner later?" 

"Sure," I replied, "how about a few bars and maybe even a club afterward?"

"Er, okay, why not? I'll send a car to come and get you at eight okay?" 

"Fantastic. Thanks." 

The car dropped me at The Dresden Restaurant, which on first sight didn't look the most inspiring of venues. I went inside and Bob was waiting for me at a table in the corner still dressed in his work suit, pale blue shirt and out of date fruit explosion tie. The lighting was low, the place three quarters full, the atmosphere relaxed and easy. The food was plentiful and delicious; it didn't stay long on my plate. Bob was just about halfway through his when I'd finished and he joked about taking me to an eating contest next week. 

When he finished we moved to the lounge, had a couple of beers each and watched the stage act to its conclusion. By ten o'clock, the place was packed to the rafters and Bob was starting to look a little uncomfortable. Sweat was pouring down his forehead and I tried hard not to imagine the state of his shirt under the jacket. I asked him if he wanted to move on and he couldn't knock his beer back quickly enough. The next place was quieter and lacked the atmosphere of the Dresden. Bob looked tired and bored, his spark from yesterday faded, his mind drifting on to other things when there was a pause in our conversation. 

"No offence Bob, but you're starting to look like this is the last place on earth you want to be. Let me guess. Been there, seen it, done it and done it again and again and again." 

He let out a little laugh and shook his head. "I'm sorry Russ. Home stuff you know?" 

"Yeah, sure. Listen let's call it a night after this one but see if you can manage something a little more wild for tomorrow night eh?" 

"I thought you bookworms were supposed to be early to bed types." 

"Stereotyping Bob? You of all people should know better than that. Don't tell me all star actors and actresses are demanding Prima Donnas?" 

He laughed. "I wish that wasn't true Russ, but invariably it is." 

Shrugging my shoulders, I necked my Budweiser and placed it on the bar. Bob put his bottle at the side of mine, half finished, and we slipped out of the place as anonymously as we'd entered it. We managed to flag down a cab straight away and Bob told me to go ahead. 

"Okay, see you tomorrow then." 

"Yeah. Sorry about tonight Russ. I'll make it up to you tomorrow and don't forget to bring the CD you talked to Mr. Rubenstein about. He wants to have a listen before your meeting." 

"Okay. Night Bob." 

He shut the door behind me and I spent the journey to the hotel trying to shrug off my disappointment at such an insipid night. I wished Susan was with me and I was starting to feel a bit isolated and lonely. It was becoming obvious that Bob wasn't the type of guy I'd hang with if I had the choice. He was a nice guy, but he wasn't a sports fan, his music tastes were prehistoric and his days of painting the town red were long gone. I called Susan when I got back to my room, but she wasn't home from work. I left her a soppy message on the machine telling her I loved her, I hoped things were going well and wished she could join me soon. I lay in bed and drifted to sleep thinking about my wife's smile, touch and incredible body that I was missing like crazy. 

The next day meeting with Mr. Rubenstein and his two assistants was hard work. They proposed that the soundtrack be a mix of haunting classical scores and Brit-pop/Rock tracks that I'd selected. My head was swimming with classical tunes when I finally left the offices. I'm sure they were as lost in the sea of guitars that I'd subjected them to all morning. My classical collection back home consisted of the Star Wars trilogy. It wasn't going to be an easy task. 

Things didn't improve in the evening as Bob failed to keep his promise of showing me a livelier time. I thought of asking UIP for a different chaperone, but I didn't want to come across as an ungrateful bastard and changed my mind. I hoped a trip to the beach that weekend would liven things and put a smile back on my face, but even that proved frustrating. I've never been one for lying still and Bob just patted his beer belly when I asked if he fancied a round of beach volleyball. I wanted to join in with the bronzed bodies that were having obvious fun but I hadn't played since school and decided against making a fool of myself. 


Coming to America Ch.02



If you read part 1, then I appreciate you returning to find out what happens next. If you didn't read Part 1, then it's not essential and there's definitely more bang for your buck in this chapter! Hope you enjoy the story and please remember to vote at the end. 

*

For the second morning in a row, I woke with a thudding headache. I looked at the clock. It was just past seven. Rolling over, I tried to get back to sleep, but to no avail. I didn't think my stomach was capable of holding food and yesterday's swim, while temporarily refreshing, hadn't managed to clear the cobwebs, so I decided to go for a walk. Popping a couple of aspirin, I dressed quickly and headed out, the hotel a claustrophobic prison I needed to escape. 

Moving quickly from the artificially lit hotel to bright early morning sunshine, I squinted, shielding my eyes from the stabbing light and headed down the long drive to the main road. Looking around, I realised that walking wasn't going to be easy. The infrastructure was clearly designed for vehicles and not pedestrians. My route was dictated by footpath availability. 

I walked with purpose, coming across an open grassy area after ten minutes or so. There, I dropped onto a concrete bench, the seat left cold by the cloaking branches of a nearby tree. Resting my chin in my hands, I watched the early morning traffic rumble past, the volume slowly building as time drifted on. 

Hazy recollections of the two previous nights were flicking in and out of my mind: Jenny's sparkling eyes, lots of laughter and fun, too much alcohol, goodnight kisses that lingered longer than they should have and the peep show to end all peep shows. The image of my scantily-clad 'associate guide' (as she'd been dubbed by the movie studio I was working for) pleasuring herself, knowing fully that I was watching, was a difficult image to shake. 

Despite Jenny's assurances that what I'd done was no worse than jacking off to a porn film, I wasn't so sure. I couldn't get her out of my head, and for a married man whose wife was so far away, that wasn't a healthy thing. 

Running both hands over my face in frustration, I couldn't help but laugh. How did I get myself into this? There was no need for my wife Susan to find out what had happened, because technically, nothing had happened. I'd just have to live with the guilty conscience for a few days and behave myself. Ideally, it would have helped to stay away from Jenny for a few days, but that wouldn't be possible. Tonight I was going to get my first real taste of Hollywood: an all-star party with Shannen Doherty, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Tom Cruise on the guest list, and Jenny had the invites. 

I was only interested in Shannen, especially as she was on my "Wife-Approved-List-Of-Celebrities-I-Can-Fuck". Either way, it would be too much fun to miss. I thought about how I'd break the news to Susan if it actually happened. 'Hi Suzie, it's me. You're never gonna believe this but I've just given Shannen Doherty one from behind!' 

A truck driver blasted his horn angrily, making me jump and bringing me back to the real world. I shook my head vigorously and sighed, wishing Susan were sitting beside me. 

"Hey, you think you got problems sir? Well look at me!" 

I glanced up to see a scruffy old man, his arms opened wide, smiling at me. He looked like he hadn't had a bath in a year. His white Santa-style beard was tatty and unkempt, his green jacket ripped and grubby, and his face heavily weathered and wrinkled.  

"Spare me a couple of bucks for a drink and I'll happily sit and listen to your problems. See if I can come up with any solutions for you." 

I didn't ask what kind of drink he was looking for but I guessed it wouldn't be a cup of tea. Pulling out a roll of notes from my trouser pocket, I peeled off a five-dollar bill. It was all Monopoly money to me. "I'll pass on the advice thanks," I grinned, handing over the money. 

His smile grew wider. "God bless you young man. A true English gentleman; who'd have thought it!" He scratched his beard, examining the note with glee. "My great, great grandfather was born in Ireland. May you have the luck of the Irish!" Rubbing the top of my head as if to bestow some magical good fortune on me, he proceeded on his way, whistling some tuneful little ditty. 

Slowly, I got to my feet thinking I'd already had all the luck of a lifetime in just the past five years, smiling to myself just thinking about it. 

* * * * *

The day's meetings were a bit of a drag. I had to listen to more classical film scores and I was struggling with it. It was as alien to me as the British rock music I'd selected was to the film studio. At least they'd accepted one of the songs I'd chosen ('Signs' by Blameless) but they were 'continuing to assess' the rest of my original choices. It would have helped if the execs and producers weren't all dinosaurs. Some young ears to match those of the cinema-going audience would have made all the difference, but I kept my opinions to myself and quietly got on with my 'work'. 

Jenny popped in about three in the afternoon to say 'hi', and let me know she'd be round for me at eight. We arranged to meet in my hotel bar. I got a whiff of her enticing perfume as she turned to go, immediately reminding me of our gentle goodnight kiss. Life was never simple. 

At nine o'clock sharp, Jenny and I arrived at the Wallender Mansion, Beverly Hills. Linking her arm with my own, we scaled the steps together and were greeted at the top of our climb by two curt henchmen. As we joined the back of a small queue of couples, I busily searched the crowd for anyone famous, almost immediately feeling a tug on my arm as Jenny herded us towards a glamorous middle-aged woman. 

"Good evening." Her voice was a strange mixture of aristocratic English and American drawl. "Do you have your invitations sir?" 

Jenny opened her handbag, producing the not-too-subtle invites. 

"Thank you Ma'am. Have a nice evening." She left us with a rehearsed smile before reeling off her stock greeting for the next guests. 

The size of the entrance hall was overwhelming. A mock Greek Palace spread out beyond it, gold trimmed walls of ivory creating a backdrop for ancient naked statues and tall pillars encircled by ivy. The artwork was authentic and most of the paintings were huge. I half expected everyone to be wearing togas. 

Taking two glasses of champagne, we made our way between a sentry of massive columns and into the main room. It had a balcony at the far end overlooking the gathering crowds. Several guests had already congregated up there, apparently enjoying their elevated position. To the right was an opening leading out to an Olympic sized swimming pool, complete with diving boards. There must have been five hundred people milling around, maybe more. A crowd of guests were outside chatting at the poolside, coolly drinking their champagne and nibbling at canapé's. Like me, the men were in tuxes, the women stuffed and sewn into expensive designer dresses, every shape, colour and possible configuration of silk, satin and velvet livened the ivory halls. The music was soft and low, the loudest sound the background white-noise of conversations overlaying one another. 

"Fuck me," I whispered. 

"Stay cool," Jenny said calmly. "Remember, no embarrassing me. You promised." 

Grabbing my hand briefly, she squeezed gently, probably guessing that I felt out of my depth and awkward. The place just screamed 'glitz!' and I figured I was the only person there who didn't have a tan. 

"Come on, there's Kyle Lovenz," said Jenny excitedly, tugging at my arm again. 

"Who?" 

"Mandalay Bay. You must get that in the UK surely?" 

"If we do I've never seen it. What is it?" 

"A soap opera. Kyle's plays a doctor. He was up for a part in Death Train six months or so ago but didn't get the part. I hung out with him for a few days." 

The psuedo-doctor was all false smiles and hair gel as we approached, holding his arms open for Jenny as if she were a long lost relative. His date looked unimpressed as Jenny flung her arms round him, smiling profusely. 

"Jenny darling, it's been too long." 

Breaking from Dr Charm's grasp, Jenny turned to introduce me. "This is Russ Harrison. UIP are in the process of turning his first novel into a film." 

Kyle gave me a quick glance but left my offered handshake hanging. I felt like pushing the ignorant sod back down the stairs but kept my cool for Jenny's sake. She didn't seem to notice his rudeness, instead cocking her head and listening to his ridiculous diatribe on the state of the movie industry. 

I introduced myself to Kyle's date but her handshake was weak, her voice plummy and lifeless. She obviously wasn't interested in chatting and looked around, bored as she lit a cigarette stuck into the end of a gold holder. I'd had enough and whispered to Jenny that I was going over to get Arnie's autograph. 

She looked sufficiently worried, excusing herself and kissing Kyle on the cheek quickly before chasing after me down the stairs. 

"Russ, slow down," she panted. "You can't go round asking for autographs here." 

"What a wanker!" I exclaimed as she caught up to me. 

Laughing, she tried to make light of the situation. "It's so funny you English say that!" 

"How can you be so nice to someone so false? If I hadn't been with you I'd have had a right go at the ignorant twat." 

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, she lowered her voice, looking around to make sure no one was listening. 

"Calm down Russ. He's not the only one like that. I just get on with it because it's my job and it doesn't pay to make enemies. I don't like the guy any more than you, but I have to be professional." 

"There's being professional Jenny and then there's ignoring the fact that someone has been rude to your friend. At least I thought we were friends. I can see I'm no different to you than any of the others." I was as angry at myself as I was at Jenny. I knew I was acting like a spoiled brat.

"Hey, that's not fair..." 

I didn't hear the rest as I headed off toward the pool, Jenny's voice fading into the distance as I pushed my way through the throngs, wondering if I should just take myself back to the hotel. I reached the pool area only to turn and see Jenny marching after me, her face red, her eyes looking ready to explode from her skull. I looked around for a quiet spot in which to get this over with and spotted Arnold Schwarzenegger coming toward me. 

He was smiling and nodding at people as he went on his way, getting underplayed looks in return from everyone trying to stay cool. Glancing back at Jen, I went straight for him, just catching the look of horror on her face. I thrust my hand up to give him a high five, equally relieved and surprised when he happily returned the greeting, smacking my hand with his own enormous palm. 

"What's up man," he said in his distinctive voice as he carried on past me. 

I suddenly felt a lot better. I waited for Jenny to catch up, her flushed face returning to a more normal shade as I grinned at her. 

"I just gave Arnie a high five," I whispered to her. 

"You big kid," she giggled, aiming a punch to my arm. 

"Sorry," I offered. 

"Me too. You're right. I shouldn't have ignored that. He was rude." 

"Okay, let's forget it then." 

The next hour we spent pleasantly drinking, eating and mingling with Jenny's peers, movie producers and more amiable and recognisable actors than Kyle bloody Lovenz. The hour passed too quickly, the only downer being that for all my furtive glancing around the crowds of people, I hadn't seen Shannen Doherty. I moaned audibly as Kyle appeared from nowhere and gave Jenny a playful slap across the bum. 

"Fancy a dip Jen?" he asked, grinning toothily. 

The pool had been empty all night and it was immensely tempting to ensure Kyle was the one doing the first swim – fully clothed. 

"Not tonight Kyle," she smiled back politely, looking at me uncomfortably as I was shaking my head. 

"Well, we never finished our conversation darling so I bought you some more champers over." His flushed face and slurred words made it obvious that he'd already had more than enough. "Why don't you get Rob here to go fetch us some nibbles?" 

Jenny put her hand on my clenched fist before I had time to use it. "His name is Russ, Kyle, and I'm sure you're capable of getting your own food if you're hungry." 

He wasn't even listening. His eyes were focused behind us, lighting up excitedly. Jenny and I turned round at the same time to see a beaming Shannen Doherty walking right towards us. I couldn't believe it. I was happy and sad all at the same time. Why did she have to know this idiot? 

"Shannen baby!" he gushed as she got to within three feet of us. 

Her reply sent a warm fuzzy feeling reverberating around my body. "Do I know you?" she said cuttingly. 

"Err, you've probably seen me on TV?" he tried weakly. "Kyle Lovenz."

She shook her head at him and then turned to me. "You're Russ Harrison right?" 

Trying not to appear too shocked, I managed a dry throated, "Yes. Shannen baby right?" I added quickly taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

She chuckled. It was a familiar laugh but a surreal experience hearing it first hand. I looked at Jenny thinking she must have had something to do with it, but she just shrugged her shoulders and gave me a puzzled look. 

"I just wanted to come over and say how much I enjoyed your book. I hear UIP have picked it up. Best thing they'll have done in ages if they get it right." 

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. Sorry, I didn't get your surname." 

"Dohert..." she saw the grin on my face and laughed again. This was unbelievable. Shannen Doherty knew who I was and I'd made her laugh. Twice! 

"I couldn't agree more," Kyle chipped in. "It'll be interesting to see the finished movie. It was a great book." 

I couldn't believe the nerve of the guy. 

"Who was your favourite character and which actor would you choose for the part?" asked Jenny looking at Kyle. 

"Err, well, the leading lady, forget her name but I think Shannen here would do a great job." 

"Sarah Sheridan? You think I'd make a good Sarah Sheridan?" asked Shannen. 

Kyle looked worried now. "Well, err, maybe you'd be better as the other one." 

"Which other one?" she asked. 

"Well, no, I'll stick with my first assessment," he mumbled looking embarrassed. 

I just stood back, chuckling to myself. Maybe there was a god after all.

Jenny either decided to take pity on him or just get him away from us. "Come on Kyle, let's go and look for those nibbles you were talking about." 

He didn't argue, saying nothing as he followed Jenny back into the main room, still oblivious to the fact that Sarah Sheridan was the fifty six year old mother of the kidnapper in my story. 

"What a jerk!" laughed Shannen. "Not a friend of yours is he?" she added.

"No. No way. He was a jerk!" 

We both laughed and then nervously sipped at our champagne. My mind was racing. I didn't want to blow it. I needed to say something, anything and was relieved when we started speaking in unison, laughing again as Shannen twisted cutely on her heels. 

"No go on, you first." She said coyly.

"Do you read much?" The question sounded lame and I thought I might as well have said 'Do you come here often?'  

"Sure. Crime stuff and thrillers mainly," she answered kindly. "You know, James Patterson, Jeffery Deaver, James Lee Burke and another British writer I like is Ian Rankin." 

"That's a quality ensemble, although I think Burke is over rated." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, not my cup of tea." She looked surprised and I thought I better change the subject before she took offence at me questioning her taste. "So what were you going to say?" 

She didn't have time to answer as two giggling blondes passed us wearing sleek cocktail dresses. "Hi Shando," they said in unison, not stopping to chat. She raised her eyes before focusing her attention back to me. 

"I just wondered who you were with tonight. Is your wife here?" 

It was my turn to look surprised. I actually wondered if I had 'I am Married!' tattooed across my forehead. "No, she had important meetings to take care of back home. She was hoping to come out and join me this week but the meetings didn't go so well and so she's stuck back in England I'm afraid." 

"That's too bad. She's very beautiful." 

"You mind if I ask how you know so much about me?" I laughed, attempting to keep it light.

"Your website," she replied before taking another sip of her champagne, looking up to gauge my reaction. "When I get into things, I really get into them. There wasn't much info in the book about you and I wanted to know more." 

"Wow. I'm flattered." I was also sure that I was blushing. I wanted to give her some gushing praise back but didn't want to sound like every other fan she must run into on a daily basis. My brain seemingly stopped to function and I blurted, "You look stunning tonight." 

"Only tonight?" she joked. 

"Well I'm not sure how you shape up at seven in the morning after a rough nights sleep," I shot back.

"Looking to find out?" She was twisting on her toes again, her head tilted slightly. 

I pinched myself and it hurt. I wasn't dreaming. Shannen Doherty was actually flirting with me. "Maybe," I said feeling stupid and sheepish. 

Rescuing me from my blushing hell and another awkward silence was my ringing cell phone. I was tempted not to answer but only UIP, Jenny and Susan had my number. I excused myself from Shannen, half turning away. I was relieved when it didn't look like she was going anywhere and said a curt "Hello," into the mouthpiece. 

"It's me!" screamed my wife's excited voice. 

"Susan," I said turning my back further on Shannen and whispering loudly into the phone. "What's up?" 

"We signed the deal yesterday Russ," she said, obviously thrilled. "Gordon's extremely happy. So much so in fact that he gave me a few days off." 

"That's great..." 

"Not only that, but I'm here!" 

"Here? Here where?" I looked round just in case she'd been watching my flirting performance from the other side of the pool. 

"LA! I just got in! There's been a delay with the bags but I should be out of here in an hour! Where shall I tell the taxi to take me?" 

"I'm staying at the Bel Air." I glanced at my watch. "I'm at a party but I could be there to meet you at eleven." 

"Whenever honey. You enjoy yourself. Just remember what's going to be waiting for you when you get back." She whispered the next bit. "I got some new lingerie at the airport in Manchester." 

I wanted to tell her I was talking with Shannen Doherty but didn't want to blow my cool. "Okay Susan. I love you. See you soon." I put the phone back in my pocket and turned back to face Shannen. She was still there, her smile radiating out from amongst the poolside clique. 

"Your wife?" 

"Yeah, sorry about that. Would you believe she's just landed at LAX? I'm not sure which I'm most surprised and happy about. Meeting you or hearing that my wife's in town!" 

"That's nice. Most guys I meet wouldn't give a fuck about their wives. Not that I'm in the habit of meeting up with married men." 

I laughed. "Thanks. You want some more champagne?" 

"Thanks, but I can't. I'm driving and I was actually thinking of heading off soon." 

"That's too bad. It was great meeting you. I mean really great. You're even more beautiful in real life." So much for my cool persona.

It was Shannen's turn to blush and she took a deep breath before speaking. "I don't suppose you fancy coming back with me do you? We could pick your wife up on the way and hang out at my place for the evening. I get quite lonely out there sometimes." I paused not quite sure what to say. "I have a nice room made up the two of you could use if that's what you're worried about," she added hopefully.




Coming to America Ch.02



I didn't give a thought to what Susan would think of the idea. "Sure, why not. Yes, yes. Great. Thanks. I better call Susan and tell her not to get a cab." 

"Okay. I'll just go find my friends and tell them I'm leaving. I'll meet you by the statue of the small-dicked guy just inside the entrance door in ten." She flashed me that cute smile of hers, and turned on her heels. 

I headed off to look for Jenny and found her chatting with two men, Kyle was nowhere in sight. I explained the situation and told her I'd call her in the morning. She gave me a round of applause and told me to have a good time, adding that I should don my sunglasses in case there were any paparazzi knocking about. She winked at me and I gave her a peck on the cheek before heading for the statue. 

I half expected her not to show, for her to come to her senses but she was waiting for me and led us a different way out of the mansion. We exited onto a rear courtyard housing thirty or forty luxury cars, all gleaming brightly under the stars. 

Shannen clicked open the doors to a large pick-up truck and I made a fool of myself by walking round to get into the drivers side. She probably thought I wanted to sit on her knee. She wouldn't have been wrong of course! 

It took about twenty minutes to get to the airport, a journey I'll never forget. Our mutual flirting continued and the conversation flowed much easier than it did at the party. We were getting along as if we'd known each other all our lives. I couldn't figure out how she'd ended up with the bad girl reputation. Maybe she'd just done a lot of growing up in the last year or so. 

As Shannen parked at the airport, I started to feel anxious as it dawned on me that this may not be Susan's ideal first night in L.A. On the positive side, Susan was a big Charmed fan and so I was hoping she'd be excited about meeting my new friend. 

"Are you sure your wife's going to be okay with this?" asked Shannen as if reading my mind. 

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. What better welcome could there be?" 

"Brad Pitt," she laughed. 

Shannen waited in the truck while I went to look for Susan. It was twenty minutes before I saw her and during that time, I was a nervous wreck, worrying equally that Shannen would come to her senses and drive off or that Susan would think I was mad and make a scene in front of Shannen. 

I called Susan's name and ran toward her excitedly, scooping her into my arms. We embraced tightly, enjoying the feeling of each other, kissing, smiling. It was fantastic to see her. 

I took Susan's hand and lifted her suitcase, hurrying out of the airport. I wanted to get the next bit over with, hoping she'd be thrilled when she saw who was playing chauffeur for the night. We reached the pick-up and she did a double take as Shannen climbed down to introduce herself grinning mischievously. 

I'd never seen my wife look so startled. Looking at me with her mouth hanging open, she pointed at Shannen. Words failed to come out of her mouth and I couldn't help but laugh. 

"Hi, I'm Shannen, pleased to meet you Mrs Harrison," she said sweetly. 

"Likewise," replied my wife looking between the two of us as if we were aliens. 

My worries that the two of them might not get on or that Susan wouldn't want to go back to Shannen's, turned out to be fruitless. Although a big fan of Charmed, Susan wasn't big on celebrity. Certainly not a reader of Hello and the like and not the type to be star struck. I think that helped and once she was over the initial surprise, it was more like we were travelling with an old friend, catching up on what we'd all been up to and gossiping about the world in general. 

I looked out of the window as we neared Shannen's and sat nonchalantly at the side of the road was the beggar that I'd given the five dollars to earlier that morning. I squinted to make sure I wasn't seeing things and he raised his drink to me as we drove past, almost as if he knew I'd be passing. The drink looked suspiciously like a can of Guinness and he had a mysterious glint in his eye as he winked at me. 

Shannen lived on a ranch in Ventura County, and we wound our way up her long dusty drive past stables, horses and open fields. It wasn't the type of place I expected her to have. I watched her climb down from the cab and even though her black evening dress and centrepiece diamond choker matched the night sky and twinkling stars, she looked out of place amongst the remote surroundings. 

I grabbed Susan's suitcase and followed behind the two of them. They were talking food, Mexican to be precise. I felt a pang of hunger, thoughts of a glorious plate full of fajitas and rice popping into my head. The image quickly evaporated as I stopped behind my perfect three-in-a-bed partners. I couldn't believe I hadn't even thought about that when I'd agreed to stay over. How funny would it feel screwing my wife in Shannen Doherty's house? I doubted I'd be able to get Shannen out of my head as Susan and I made love, but I wasn't about to make that public. 

Shannen pushed open her front door and two giant dogs came bounding towards us, barking wildly, tails wagging ten to the dozen. 

"Max! Luca!" she called as the dogs made to jump all over her. She must have realised at the last minute what she was wearing and palmed them off rubbing their heads ensuring they couldn't jump up. 

"They're gorgeous," said Susan. "What are they?" 

"Bull Mastiffs. This is Max and this is Luca. Don't look so worried Russ, they won't bite." I stood well out of the way as the girls rained affection on the two dogs. "I'll let them out the back," she said laughing, looking up at me. "They could do with some air." 

Once they were safely out of the way, we followed Shannen through to a room where she told us to make ourselves comfortable. Immaculately presented, it contained two giant sofas, the biggest TV screen I'd seen outside of a cinema and a very flash looking stereo. There were small family pictures dotted around the room and a nice photo of Shannen with Holy Marie Coombs, which Susan picked up and looked at. 

"You two good friends?" she asked. 

"Are you kidding? She's like my best friend. She was there tonight Russ. I'm surprised you didn't see her. What can I get you two to drink?" 

"What are you having?" Susan asked her. 

"I fancy a glass of wine I think." 

"May as well crack a bottle open for the three of us then; that okay with you Russ?" 

"Sure." 

"Great," said Shannen. "Red or white?" 

"Oooh, red please," said Susan. 

"Put some music on will you Russ?" said Shannen as she was leaving the room. "The CD's are in the cupboard under the hi-fi. 

She had quite a collection, mainly rock stuff, classics from yesteryear (Beatles, Stones, Beach Boys, Bowie, Zeplin and the like) and quite a few bands I'd never even heard of. I plumped for the soundtrack from my favourite movie – Swingers.  It seemed quite apt and I couldn't help smiling to myself as Dean Martin's smooth vocals eased out of the sizeable speakers. 

"You know what Russ?" asked Shannen as she reappeared with a bottle of wine, three glasses and an opener. "You're so fucking money and you don't even know it!" 

"Vegas baby, Vegas!" I replied as Susan groaned on the sofa beside me. 

"You not a fan?" Shannen asked Susan. 

"Not really," said Susan looking at me. "Don't get me wrong. It's an okay film but he just goes on about it all the time and we even have it as our bloody screen-saver on the PC at home. The soundtrack's better than the film." 

"You ever met Favereau or Vaughn?" I asked Shannen, ignoring Susan's comments. 

"No unfortunately. They've not exactly set the silver screen on fire since though have they? You seen Made? " 

"Yeah." 

"What did you make of it?" 

"Rubbish to be honest." 

"Yeah me too." 

The next two hours went on like that: Susan and I on one sofa, Shannen on the other facing us. Shannen's phone rang a couple of times but she just let the machine pick it up. We listened to more CD's and then Shannen fetched her guitar and we took it in turn to play songs to each other, Susan joining in with the singing. 

I don't think I ever stopped being amazed that night. I kept looking round thinking I was having the world's greatest dream. Surely it couldn't get any better? 

We were well loosened up, on the way to being drunk even, when Shannen excused herself to visit the bathroom. 

"How cool is she?" I asked Susan. 

"Alright calm down mister 'I'm in love with Shannen'." 

"As if!" I retorted. 

"Ooo Shannen you play the guitar so well. Ooo Shannen you have great music taste. Ooo Shannen, I can't believe we like the same films and books. Ooo..." She stopped as I dived on her, starting a wrestling match on the sofa until I finally had her giggling and pinned down. 

"Admit you love her too or I'll strip you naked." 

"Nuh-uh," she said shaking her head. 

We wrestled some more until she wriggled free and then we both collapsed back on the sofa as we heard the sound of the toilet flushing above us. We were breathing heavily, laughing aloud. 

"I'll admit this much though Russ. If I was going to have my first girl on girl fun, she wouldn't be a bad choice, especially as you couldn't manage to meet up with Sarah Michelle Gellar you useless git." 

"Useless git? Thanks for that. Well unlucky anyway, 'cos I'd just like to remind you that I'm actually allowed to shag her." I got the list out of my wallet. "Here look, it's signed by my wife and everything." I waved it in front of her face as she frantically tried to grab it off me. 

"Gimme that. I can't believe you still have it you saddo." 

Neither of us had heard Shannen come back into the room. "What's he got?" she asked laughing along. 

I froze in horror and turned to face her. Quick as a flash, Susan whipped the list out of my hands and to my disbelief said: "a list and you're on it!" 

"What sort of list?" Shannen asked looking curious now. 

"It's nothing," I said trying to grab it back but the girls weren't having any of it. 

Shannen took it from Susan and started to read from the card. "Famous women I'm allowed to make love to. Make love to huh?" she teased. "Susan Sarandon, Kylie Minogue, Jennifer Aniston, Rachel Hunter, Nicole Kidman. " She flipped the card over and carried on. "Liv Tyler, Angelina Jolie, Shannen Doherty, Heather Graham, Jamie Lee Curtis. I hereby agree that my husband, Mister Russell Harrison may sleep with any of these women, signed Susan Harrison.  You know I'm kind of insulted Russ. Only number eight on the list?" 

"It was just a bit of fun. You're not actually in any particular order. If it makes you feel any better, you'd be number two on Susan's list, right behind Sarah Michelle Gellar." 

"Really?" said Shannen, her eyes opening wide. I was almost sure she was suppressing a smile. "Now that is flattering. Sarah's a very good friend of mine. I don't mind coming in number two to her but some of these others Russ. I don't know." She was going to milk this for all it was worth. I just sat shaking my head and raised my hands in the air, too embarrassed to say anything else. "Still, I suppose making your top ten out of all the women in the world isn't too bad. Wanna dance?" 

She'd put on some Frank Sinatra and I looked across at Susan for approval. She nodded that it was okay and so I said "Sure," as coolly as I could do. 

"Not you silly," she replied. "Susan." 

My wife gave a little look of surprise before walking over to Shannen, swaying her hips in time with the music. Standing a few inches taller than Shannen, she put her arms around her waist. Shannen looked up and smiled gently, enclosing her hands around my wife's neck. They moved closer; their breasts touching, faces only inches apart. 

Edging slowly round in a tight circle, Shannen rested her head on Susan's shoulder, her face a picture of smug contentedness as she glanced up at me. I decided to head up to the bathroom. I didn't want to sit there and let her think I was jealous, even if I was. I took my time, attempting to clear my head of another alcoholic fog, splashing my face with cold water and taking in deep breaths of air. Their little show of intimacy had reminded me that it was ten days since Susan and I had made love. I looked at my watch. Twelve thirty am. Another half an hour and then I'd start the yawns and the hints that it was time to retire for the night.

I expected them to be seated by the time I got down, but they were still dancing. I frowned as I looked at the lights, wondering if they'd been dimmed. I looked back at Susan and Shannen who had turned a little more. Their lips were pressed together, eyes closed, their tongues dancing together with the passion and rhythm of a salsa. Frozen to the spot, I was unsure what to do. Should I leave the room? Cough? Stand and watch? I had a feeling they knew I was there. 

I quietly dropped to the sofa, settling for a ringside seat. They looked too lost in each other for the kiss to be solely for my benefit. My heart began to bang as my cock stiffened, my throat dry. I felt for my glass on the coffee table, my glare not straying from their passionate clinch. 

As the song finished, their lips slowly peeled apart. They gave each other a final peck, breaking free of the embrace and turning to face me. I gave them a round of applause, smiling widely in appreciation of their little scene. 

"Your wife is one hell of a kisser Russ. You're a lucky bastard you know," exclaimed Shannen walking towards me to scoop her drink from the coffee table. 

"Right now," I replied. "I'd say I was about the luckiest guy in the world." 

"Care to keep your streak going? Susan and I decided it was time for bed. You wanna join us?" She had one hand on her hip, the other offering red wine to her blushed lips. She was in total command. 

My Adam's apple rose and fell as I attempted to gauge whether she was just fucking with my head. I looked at Susan, her face betraying no emotions of surprise, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

"Do you think we should let him Shannen?" crowed Susan seizing on the uncertainty I was failing to disguise. "I'm not sure I want to share you." She looked at Shannen, placing one hand on her ass, the other rubbing teasingly at her own pussy through the material of her short skirt. 

I wasn't dreaming but the feeling of incredulity was overwhelming. I wasn't in the habit of having my fantasies turn in to reality. My brain was working overtime, attempting to calculate if my wife was capable of winding me up to this degree. I decided after what seemed an age that she was not. They had to be serious. 

"Shannen," I declared trying to sound confident, "I'd love to join you. Lead the way." 

Her expression told me it wasn't going to be that easy. She was doing the cute toe twisty thing again while my wife's hand continued to explore her shapely ass. "Maybe your wife has a point. We were doing just fine without you." They both smirked, obviously not content until they had me on my knees, begging to join in. 

"Fair point, but you'll have a much better time with me added to the equation." I tried lamely. 

"Oh we will, will we?" mocked Susan sarcastically. 

"Uh-huh. Maybe you're forgetting that I have something the two of you don't." 

"Now that's not strictly true," said Shannen. 

"How do you work that out?" I frowned, checking out Shannen's crotch for any surprising bulges.

"Well I have Bob upstairs waiting for me whenever I need him," she replied. 

"Bob?" I asked in unison with Susan. 

"Yeah, my battery operated boyfriend. Bob! He has a few non-vibrating relations too," she stated calmly as if talking about the latest kitchen gadget.

"Not exactly the same though is it. To quote U2, there ain't nothing better than the real thing!" I sang. 

"Well, I'm still not convinced Shannen. What do you think? It's your call," said Susan smugly, obviously enjoying her newly acquired membership to the girls union.

Shannen gave me that look again. The look I couldn't read. Was now the time to drop to my knees and grovel? 

"If he passes the test he's in." 

The test? Sounded like she'd set it a few times before. 

"If it's okay with you Susan, I wouldn't mind discovering how skilful he is with his tongue." She winked at my wife. 

Susan nodded her approval and Shannen walked toward me with purpose. 

"I want you to lick my cunt Russ," she whispered. 

It was a bit of a shock to not only hear the word cunt elide from Shannen Doherty's mouth, but to have her look me in the eyes whilst uttering those dirty words made it my favourite sentence ever. 

Looking at Susan being led to the sofa by Shannen, I wondered what was going through her mind. Engaging in sexual practices with another female wasn't exactly normal practice for either of us. We'd talked about swinging in the past but that's all it was. Talk. Hell, as far as I was aware, Susan hadn't even kissed another woman until a few minutes ago. She wasn't averse to complimenting women; looks, figures, breasts, bums etc., but I never thought I'd ever witness her in a passionate embrace with one. Then there was the jealousy factor. How would she handle that? 

"Hey Russ are you gonna get down on your knees and pleasure me sometime this century or shall we just forget about you?" barked Shannen impatiently. I snapped out of it and looked at her sat back on the sofa, knickers round her ankles, dress pulled up around her waist and decided she had every right to be irritated. I'm sure it wasn't every day she dropped her drawers for a relative stranger. What a sight. I was down on my knees in a shot, skidding across the laminated flooring towards her like a Brazilian celebrating the winning goal in the World Cup final.

Looking up at her face, she was smiling with wild anticipation. To the side of her, Susan was lowering the straps on her dress, ready to free her breasts. She shuddered slightly as my fingers made contact with her bare skin for the first time. I started with a hand on either thigh, just above her knees, being careful to take a firm grip so as not to tickle her. Her skin was incredibly smooth and cool to the touch. As my hands glided slowly up those milky thighs, her skin became warmer, as if my fingers were on some incredible journey towards a blazing furnace. 

"Oh god," said Shannen, involuntary bucking. I was at the tops of her thighs but her reaction wasn't my doing. Susan was squeezing Shannen's breasts, tweaking and pinching her tumescent puce nipples whilst kissing her neck. It was going to be difficult to concentrate and I wished I had as few clothes on as Shannen. My cock was struggling intently against the confines of my boxers. 

The skin surrounding her pussy lips was shaved and as smooth as her legs. She had a mound of dark thick hair above her opening and I ran the fingers of my left hand through it as I traced a line from the bottom to the top of her labia with my other hand. She moaned slightly as my left hand glided around her exposed flesh, my finger continuing to work up and down her slit. Her lips began to part, becoming slicker and swollen under my caress. 

"Oh yeah...stick it in Russ. Finger my cunt," she breathed. 

I could definitely get used to her telling me what to do. Gripping her knee tightly with my left hand, I carefully slid my finger up her slippery passage. Twisting it round slowly, I teased the inside walls of her vagina and hooked my finger round searching for her g-spot. The sudden contraction of her muscles and a loud moan told me I'd hit the target. I kept the pressure on a few seconds until I felt her body relax a little, and then continued stroking. 

"Oh, that feels nice. Yes, oh god yes." 




Coming to America Ch.02



Susan was still busy massaging her tits, getting increasingly fervid, her confidence growing along with Shannen's escalating moaning and groaning.

Removing my finger slowly, I exacted a sigh of pleasure from Shannen. Tentatively, I approached her glistening pussy with my mouth, using the flat of my tongue to work up and down her outer labia, gently increasing the rhythm until her hips started working with me, needy and hungry for more. I moved up to her clit, circling it as her breathing became shallower and more desperate. Slipping my finger back between her pussy lips, I lightly flicked over her clitoris bringing a long deep moan in response. Adding a second finger, I continued to pleasuring her most precious spot with my tongue. 

Her thrusts became increasingly powerful, willing me to insert more pressure and meet her movements with my fingers as I plunged in and out of her heat. 

Stopping for a second, I asked smugly, "So have I passed the test then?" I regretted it instantly. 

Shannen grabbed my hair, pushing my head back towards her crotch. "For fucks sake don't stop now!" she screamed in exasperation. 

My tongue had already reconnected with her clit as the words exploded from her mouth. No doubt Susan was grinning all over her face but I wasn't about to look up to find out. Pumping my wet fingers furiously in and out of her opening, I licked and flicked at her swollen clit as if my life depended on it and using my lips, I gently sucked on her erect little bud. 

"Jesus Christ almighty. Oh, yes, go on, go on, Ooooohhhhh!" She screamed loudly as her body quivered, her face flushed and glistening. 

Shannen held her head back, eyes resting, her breathing still loud but slowing, her face and chest flushed almost to the colour of her lips, her raven hair dishevelled. 

She looked as sexy as hell. It was an image that would stay with me forever. She opened her eyes and they sparkled like emeralds, her gaze falling upon me. 

"That was fucking incredible! Can I watch the two of you together now?" I didn't have time to answer before she said, "Come on, let's go upstairs." 

Upstairs was a different world. Whereas the ground floor pandered to its natural wood exterior, housing sympathetic furnishings, the rooms on the first floor were luxuriously modern and creative. Stylish ornamental pieces sparsely decorated the hallway and soft lighting led us into a room that would have comfortably fitted in four double beds. As it was, there was just the one large divan resting against the back wall. The black shiny sheets matched the metal-framed headboard. The pillows were deep red, with a small heart-shaped cushion fronting the neat collection. 

"You'll have to excuse the mess," she said frantically throwing clothes in the direction of her laundry basket. She lit several scented candles, placing them around the room and switched off the sleek central light. Susan said she needed the loo and Shannen opened the door to the on suite bathroom for her. 

"Don't suppose you have anything I could tie her up with?" I asked in a hopeful whisper. Shannen opened the last of a full wall length of doors, exposing a huge walk-in closet. An inordinate amount of shoes lined the purpose made racks: rows upon rows, enough to start a small shop even. 

"A pair for every day of the year huh?" I joked. 

"There's probably more actually," she replied shrugging her shoulders. 

Reaching up to the top shelf, she pulled down a purple shoebox. "Will these do?" she asked pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs. "I've got some leg straps as well somewhere. Oh and here's a blindfold. Does she like that?" 

"Oh yes, she loves it!" I replied failing to control my excitement.

The bathroom door opened and Shannen put down the box on a bench seat and smiled at Susan as she re-entered the room wearing only her lingerie. She looked stunning. Her bra was a snug fit, accentuating and lifting her breasts. Her thong was minimal and sheer, her frilly-topped stockings were held up by a suspender belt and encased her long shapely legs, the black material contrasting with her pale skin. Strappy black heels completed her sexy look. She made her way to the bed and elegantly climbed on, posing for her audience. 

My senses were working overtime: my eyes struggled to take in what they were seeing, my ears were picking up the gentle purring approval from Shannen gazing lustfully at my wife, my nose was in a sensuous heaven of scent from candles and perfume, and the taste of Shannen was still very much evident on my tongue. Now I needed to feel and touch Susan, for our naked skin to meet again. Hurriedly removing my shirt and trousers, I took a deep breath and removed my boxers, thankful that the room was warm, my cock semi-erect and leading the way to the bed. 

Shannen followed suit and removed her black dress. She wasn't wearing anything else and didn't look as awkward as I felt. Making herself comfortable in a chair at the base of the bed, she threw me the cuffs, Susan's eyes widening with surprise. 

There was an inevitable silent surrender as Susan stretched her slender arms above her head, allowing me to cuff each of her hands to the headboard. Lifting her hips up off the bed, I pulled down her thong. Her pussy lips glistened in the soft candlelight, a familiar intoxicating aroma indicating that she was already highly aroused. I ran my hands up and down her body, enjoying the little quivers that my touches educed. Lingering over her breasts, still encased within her bra, I tweaked her nipples through the thin fabric. She released an instantaneous moan of pleasure. 

"This may help," encouraged Shannen, throwing me the blindfold. 

Susan closed her eyes as I put it on, eradicating her vision and leaving her shuddering with anticipation. Removing her bra, I waited a moment, sitting in silence beside her, patiently biding my time. 

She began wriggling, her body attempting to predict where the first touch would come. Its forecast was a little off target as I carefully leaned over her face and touched the head of my swollen shaft to her lips, a sudden exhale of breath from Susan feeling cool upon my glans. 

Flicking out with her tongue, she opened her mouth wider as I straddled over her face and began fucking her mouth with shallow thrusts, muffled sounds escaping from where my cock was plunging in and out. Shannen rose from the chair and stood beside me for a better view. I watched the slow deliberate strokes of her fingers below the trimmed hair of her bush, her eyes feasting on my cock sliding in and out of Susan's gleaming lips. Slowing my own pace to match that of Shannen's, our eyes locked, dancing with desire in the wavering candlelight. 

My tightening balls warned me that I wasn't too far away from coming, my extended abstention from sexual activity aiding the speed of my rapidly approaching climax. Hastily pulling out of Susan's mouth with a plop, I resumed teasing and tantalising her body with sudden touches and sensual strokes as I pondered the growing quandary within my head. How was I going to stop myself from coming with Susan so that I could fuck Shannen? I desperately wanted to cum inside her and no longer trusted my powers of recovery to enable me to climax twice within an hour or so, Shannen Doherty or no Shannen Doherty. I needed to make Susan crazy, turn her on so that she was as close to coming as possible without penetration or clitoral stimulation. 

As if reading my mind, Shannen picked up the foot restraints and against a token futile squirming resistance, quickly tied Susan's legs to the corner posts of the bed. With her legs spread wide, her vaginal lips involuntarily opened further and Shannen looked hungrily at Susan's exposed labia. Without warning, Shannen took hold of her feet and sucking gently on her pretty little toes. I watched, mesmerised, wishing it were my cock being devoured by her sweet lips. 

Susan started moaning loudly and I wondered if she knew that it was Shannen doing the sucking. As far as I knew, she'd never had two sexual partners at the same time and her reaction when I leaned in and gently licked her pussy lips whilst Shannen was busy with her feet was immediate and unsurprising.

"Oh god! Oh fuck!" she cried out loudly. 

I worked my tongue beneath the folds of her labia and lapped inside her using a come-hither motion, her panting and moaning quickening, beads of sweat appearing on her tummy, chest and face. 

Giving a final teasing suck on her little toe, Shannen walked from the foot of the bed to stand beside where Susan's head rested, her searing eyes feasting upon Susan's nakedness. Leaning over her face, she brushed her lips against my wife's. Jumping in surprise, Susan recovered to meet Shannen's lips, their tongues and mouths joined again in a fervent, desperate kiss. 

I happily played voyeur for a moment as Shannen's hands wandered down to Susan's chest, circling and massaging her ample tits as they continued their passionate clinch. 

Shannen suddenly pulled away with a cruel laugh, leaving Susan panting and twitching on the bed below her. Obviously enjoying the power trip, she teased Susan further by offering a nipple to her unsuspecting lips, her tits deliciously brushing her face. Susan shot out her tongue to lap at Shannen's over-hanging globes, managing a couple of licks before being left frustrated again as Shannen repositioned herself until she was squatting inches above Susan's face. 

My cock was twitching wildly with anticipation, the temperature in the room felt like it had risen ten degrees. Using immense self-control, I teased my cock-head along Susan's slit and over her clit, resisting her waiting wetness. 

Jolting again, Susan screamed out, "Oh yes, I need it now Russ! Now! Fuck me now!" 

Shannen trailed a finger across Susan's breasts from one nipple to the other causing her back to arch off the bed as if being electrically charged. She must have been able to smell Shannen's cunt above her as she kept flicking out her tongue, her whimpering and panting becoming increasingly desperate. 

Susan bucked and thrashed against her restraints, crying, "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" as we teased and stimulated her sensitive parts, her head shaking from side to side as she fought to control herself. 

Shannen squatted lower still, her cunt lips visibly parting as they approached Susan's mouth. Snaking out her tongue as she felt Shannen's cunt lips touch her face, she worked her way around the labia, finally settling into a rhythm, taking on her newly acquired cunt-licking role with aplomb. Shannen snapped her head back and gently rocked on her heels in time with Susan's tonguing. 

I couldn't take my eyes off them as I thrust my cock into Susan's opening with minimal resistance. Pounding into her cunt with deep, hard thrusts, Susan immediately began moving her hips against my cock, frantically searching for the release she craved. 

She wasn't kept waiting long. Going rigid, as if she was about to explode, her cries of passion and joy were lost in the depths of Shannen's cunt and I felt the walls of her pussy contract around my cock as she came all over me. 

Staying still, not daring to move for fear of climaxing myself, I watched Shannen rise from her squatting position and sit beside Susan, stroking her hair, and planting soft kisses on her forehead and cheeks. Susan's breathing slowed as she returned to normal, her body still, recovering from the blissful utopia. 

Starring at Shannen, I could see she was mouthing something to me. She had to do it a second time before I realised what it was. She was mouthing I want your cock. Now.  

"Can you take the blindfold off Shannen? I want to watch you fuck Russ. I bet he's gagging for it," declared Susan, breaking my trance. 

Removing my twitching cock from Susan's dripping cunt, I watched Shannen as a smile broke at the corner of her mouth. She untied the blindfold and unlocked the cuffs to her hands, while I quickly undid the foot restraints. 

Shannen rose from the bed and walked confidently towards me, her lustful gaze devouring my cock. Flicking her hair playfully, she stopped in front of me, teasingly licking her lips as my cock twitched and pulsed between us. I wanted to grab her and kiss her hard, somehow resisting the urge, intrigued as to what she would do. Staring into her stunning green eyes, I held her gaze as her lips came slowly towards mine. 

Closing my eyes, anticipating the kiss to develop and intensify as her mouth brushed mine, I was left under her spell as her lips painfully left mine but gently and gloriously trailed down over my chin, throat, chest, and stomach. She got to her knees, pausing at the tip of my cock as she brushed back her hair. Gasping in excited anticipation, my legs felt as though they were about to buckle, my heart attempting to beat its way out of my chest. 

Hungrily swallowing the head of my cock, Shannen slid her mouth forward until my phallus disappeared completely. Grabbing the back of my thighs, she began to rhythmically fuck my cock using her mouth. 

I was hammering into her within seconds, painfully aware that I was nearing release, trying to hold back and save myself for her cunt whilst my murmurs of pleasure served only to encourage her. 

"Oh god, you better stop!" I managed. "I'm so close and I want to fuck your pussy." Opening my eyes, I noticed Susan watching intently from the bed as Shannen slowed to a halt. There was a twinkle in Shannen's eyes as she looked up at me, my cock slipping from between her lips. My head felt light and dizzy, my cock sporadically twitching, shiny from Shannen's saliva, a tiny globule of pre cum dribbling from the tip. 

Putting my hands on her shoulders to steady myself, she rose from her crouched position. I placed them round the back of her neck, pulling her closer, my slick cock pushing up against her stomach, her breasts heaving against my chest. The kiss that followed was everything I'd hoped for. Holding each other tightly, the flames of passion soared like a kite.

I needed her now. I had to have her. I broke from the kiss and before I could speak she said, "Fuck me Russ. Fulfil your fantasy stud." 

I watched her dip a finger into her cunt before offering it to my lips. Swallowing her finger eagerly, I lifted her into my arms, carrying her to the bed that Susan swiftly vacated. 

My wife pulled a bench seat beside the bed and positioned a dildo from Shannen's purple shoebox underneath herself. She lowered herself down on to it, her eyes feasting upon us. I watched her riding the toy as I lowered Shannen on to the bed. 

The horrible, awkward thought of protection suddenly entered my head, but we were thinking in unison and she whispered to me, her voice husky, her hot breath sending shivers down my back. "I'm on the pill, tested with a clean bill of health less than three months ago, no unprotected sex since. You?" 

"We both had tests six months into our relationship; both all clear. As far as I know," I replied winking, "neither of us has had sex with anyone else since." 

She nodded, satisfied, and lay back on the bed, letting out a contented sigh of anticipation. I lowered myself onto her, my cock tantalisingly close to her pussy as we hungrily kissed, our hands needy as they ran through hair, over hot naked skin and tingling body parts. 

Coming up for air, Shannen pulled my ear to her mouth. "I need it now Russ! Fuck me like a dog. Do it hard...I need it so bad." 

Glancing quickly at Susan, I climbed onto my knees. She nodded her approval at me, moving herself up and down the fake phallus, her tits jiggling wildly. This was it, a fantasy realised, my excitement at boiling point. Trying to calm myself, my body hot and trembling, my forehead perspiring, I positioned myself behind her on the bed as she stretched her arms forward, her back arched like a cat, her ass in the air exposing her cute little rosey hole, her pussy open and wet, inviting and enticing. 

I placed one hand on her bum and used the other to guide my cock to the swollen lips of her sex. I didn't need to push hard as my saliva coated cock disappeared into the heat of her pussy, Shannen pushing back against me, moaning slowly, loudly. 

I paused, my shaft buried to the hilt as Shannen turned her head to look at Susan. Beckoning to her with her finger, Susan obeyed, smiling as she climbed off the dildo. She made her way unsteadily to the bed, looking pleased that she was to get to join in. 

"Sit down and spread your legs," commanded Shannen. "I want to taste you while your husband fucks me." 

Susan didn't need asking twice, lying on her back and using a pillow to prop herself up higher. 

I took the opportunity to slide my hands along Shannen's back and down to caress her delectable tits. She pushed back against me as I reached for her nipples and gave them a tug. I took her movement as my cue to get moving, her mouth busily working away at Susan's pussy. 

Starting slowly, I tried to ensure I didn't cum before Shannen had a chance to enjoy our fuck. 

Thrusting her ass back at me desperately after three delicious slow strokes, her filthy requests still ringing round my head, I drove my cock forward as hard as I could, banging into her backside and jolting her forward, bringing surprised yelps from both Shannen and Susan.

"Oh god, that felt good Russ," said Shannen taking a breather from Susan's pussy. She craned her neck to look back at me. "Harder! Ride me harder you stud!" 

"I think this could get dangerous for me!" laughed Susan getting up. "Maybe we could resume in a while." 

Shannen nodded at Susan as I took my hands from her breasts and gripped her hips. Susan slid underneath her and started flicking at her hanging breasts with her tongue and fingers. I rammed into her cunt, giving her everything I had. We were quickly grunting and moaning together, moving against each other in an explosion of frenzied lust.

"Yes! Fuck yes!" She screamed. "Go on Russ, go on, that's it...oh fuck!" 

I felt my balls tighten and the welcome build up of climax start within. The noises escaping my mouth were feral, frantic and desperate, Shannen driving me on, moving her delicious ass back to meet my strokes. I could tell she was close and she started whimpering with pleasure, her words coming out in an excited whisper. "Fuck baby, yes, come on, give it me, give it me baby, yes, oh god, yes, fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

My head felt like it was going to explode as the first jet of semen ejaculated from my cock deep inside Shannen's pussy. My eyes were squeezed tightly shut, colours bursting before me, my body overcome with glorious pleasure, the powerful climax rippling through me until I slowed to a stop, my cock still twitching and throbbing within Shannen. 

"Oh God," said Shannen panting. "You two ever thought of moving out to LA?" 

I collapsed on the bed behind her. "Not sure I could cope with this too often," I joked. "It's got to be bad for the heart. Then there's all that sunshine, the sandy beaches, beautiful women, perfect surf. Nah, England forever I reckon." 

"Not forever!" exclaimed Susan aiming a pillow at me. "Honestly, sometimes!" She raised her eyes, slapped my bare ass and climbed on the bed beside me. "Think you can cope with more Shannen?" she asked innocently. 

Shannen smiled, her perfectly sculptured cheekbones raised, her face a picture of contented happiness. "Uh-huh," she nodded. 

Climbing on top of Shannen, Susan shuffled her bum backwards so that her curly bush was just above Shannen's mouth. I lay back in wonder, watching the pair of them explore each other's most intimate parts with tongues and lips, Susan seemingly a natural.  

Looking down at my cock, I was amazed to discover it already stirring and showing signs of recovery. I suppose that if I was ever going to recapture my teenage recuperation powers, watching my wife and Shannen Doherty 69 would have been a safe bet as to when it would happen. 




Coming to America



Just as my L.A. adventure seemed to be spiralling toward disappointment, an unexpected turn of events promised new possibilities. Laying on my bed reading after my day at the beach, I got a call from Crystal at the Studio telling me Bob had asked for some personal leave. Jenny would be my new associate guide. I was to meet her in my hotel lobby at seven tonight. A female. Interesting. 

I called Susan to tell her the news and see how things were progressing for her. She let me finish my chatter about the day and then dropped her bombshell. Things were at a difficult stage at work and she wouldn't be able to come and join me. I wanted to tell her to stuff the job and come anyway, but I knew her career was too important to her. Our financial situation was extremely healthy since the success of the book, but she was still independent, determined and striving for success in her own vocation. It's one of the things I love about her. 

I put the phone down but my thoughts remained back home. I had a minimum of four more days out in L.A. and after the initial buzz of the first couple of days, I was now bored and lonely. It was the longest we'd been apart since we'd met and I missed both Susan and the sex. I was definitely starting to feel a little frisky. I tried to shrug it off, blaming the hot weather and the endless supply of scantily clad women on display in the city, but it didn't work.

Drifting off to sleep, I awoke to a gentle knock at the door. I looked at the clock and let out an expletive as I realised it was twenty past seven Getting up, I looked through the peephole, then rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Standing there was a stunning blonde in a tight white halter-top. I checked my hair to ensure it wasn't stuck up and opened the door, smiling widely.

"Mr Harrison?" 

I nodded and motioned her to come in. "I'm Jenny Flush from UIP. Sorry to disturb you, but I was told to meet you..."

I waved my hands to stop her explanation. "I know. My fault, sorry. I fell asleep." I couldn't stop myself from checking her out as she walked into the room. Her perfume smelled great and her skirt was tight enough to suggest she wasn't wearing any underwear, or at best, a skimpy thong. I took a deep breath as I closed the door and turned back to face her. 

"So how are you finding L.A., Mr. Harrison?" she asked as she turned from the window to face me. 

"I love it. Wish I could take the sunshine back to England with me." She looked mid-twenties, certainly younger than I. Her body was tanned and toned. "I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of the action at night though. The first guy who looked after me, Bob, seemed a bit out of touch." 

"Yeah I heard you'd had the pleasure of Blob. They usually stick him with the, how shall we say it? The more refined VIP's of the corporation. I guess they had you down as a bit of a stiff, Mr. Harrison." 

"Is that right?" I said laughing. "And it's Russ. You make me sound a hundred years old when you call me Mr. Harrison." 

We shared a laugh and I could already tell I was going to have fun with Miss Flush. We spent the evening getting to know one another over dinner before she took me to a couple of glitzy bars. I noticed plenty of people looking our way and guessed they were either checking out Jenny or thinking what is she doing with him? We finished the night with an hour of dancing at some hip joint called the Derby Club and I'd had a little too much Bourbon by the time we left. 

"I had a fantastic night Jen. Thanks." "Me too. Work was fun for a change." 

"You take the first cab," I said as one pulled alongside us. 

"We'll get it together. I live just around the corner from the hotel." 

"Great," I said holding the door open for Jenny. She placed her bum on the seat and gracefully swung her legs into the car. I dived in beside her and she told the driver where we needed to go before offering me a gentle beguiling smile. "Thanks again Jen," I said concentrating on not slurring my words or smiling too manically. 

She flashed her perfect teeth at me. "No problem, I'm glad you had a nice night." She paused a second, looking out the window. "You're a nice guy you know. It's been the best first date I've had on the job for months." She giggled and scrunched her face up. "How much longer are you out here? They told me four days at least." 

"Yeah, not sure exactly. They don't seem too keen on my soundtrack ideas and I don't really know what I'm doing with the classical stuff. Hopefully, we'll come to some compromise pretty quickly and I can get back home." 

"You miss your wife?" 

"Yes," I said staring into space, hiding my surprise. I purposefully hadn't mentioned Susan all night. "More than I thought I would." I figured the corporation must have given her my background before coming to meet me. As if reading my thoughts, she raised her eyebrows and nodded her head towards my hand. I didn't understand what she was insinuating at first, but then it dawned on me - my wedding ring. 

"What did you mean before about work being fun for a change? Do you not normally enjoy it? I think you have a cool job." 

"Well, I suppose," she started. "It's just that most of the time I'm looking after actors and the majority are arrogant jerks. They waste no time letting me know they'd love to get in my pants and then complain to the corporation when I don't give them what they want. I don't know why they don't just hire hookers. It's not always a bed of roses you know?" 

I gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, I guess not. Give me an example of some diva-type behaviour then!" 

"Oh, I can't give you anything specific. It's against the rules." 

"Go on!" 

"Sorry, no can do," she insisted. I pouted and gave her my sad look, blinking my eyes until she cracked. "Okay, okay. As I said, most of the actors aren't shy about asking for sex. When I tell them they can forget about me, they want to know where they can get it. I've actually made friends with a few of the hookers; we have a mutual respect. Anyway, I like to get the gossip the next morning just in case my client is being a pain in the ass. Just gives me a bit of ammo if I need to shut them up."

I laughed. "I'll bet! Tell me a kinky secret!" 

"How about dressing in a giant diaper and asking to be treated like a baby. It's amazing what gets some people off." 

"You're kidding! Who was that?" The taxi slowed to a halt and I looked out seeing the hotel. 

"Sorry, my lips are sealed," she said running an imaginary zipper across her mouth.

"Don't suppose you fancy one in the bar do you? A drink I mean, if you want to that is. Don't feel like you have to because if you..." 

She put her finger to my lips and I immediately felt a tingle of excitement. "I'd love to," she said, still smiling. 

The hotel bar was quiet. There was an old guy in the corner entertaining some young skinny thing who was probably being paid by the hour or getting to know the boss better than she should have been, and a middle aged suit sat at the bar chatting with the solitary barmaid. I got the drinks and we sat across from one another at a table. 

"I wasn't exactly looking forward to tonight," said Jenny as I put the drinks on the marble top table between us. "A married English writer wasn't my idea of an ideal client." 

"I'll bet," I said laughing. I took a sip of my Bourbon, being careful to keep my eyes focused on her face rather than on her cleavage. I was ashamed to admit even to myself how much I wanted to let my gaze stray south. Her breasts had a good case for claiming to be the world's strongest eye magnet. 

"Is there anything you want to do in particular tomorrow or anything else I can get for you tonight?" 

I refrained from offering a cheeky answer. "No, nothing else thanks. I'll leave the night-time itinerary up to you if that's okay." 

"Okay." 

"Got anymore anecdotes for me? I bet you could write a book yourself." 

"Well, I would if there wasn't a confidentiality clause in my contract." 

"Aw come on Jen. Give me more, I won't tell. Scout's honour," I said giving her the old three-fingered salute. 

"Nuh-uh. Sorry Russ, no can do. How would you like it if I told everyone you purposefully avoided telling me you're married?" 

I felt the heat rising to my cheeks and I didn't know what to say. This girl didn't miss a trick. Was I that obvious? Jenny laughed at my embarrassment but stopped abruptly when she realised I wasn't sharing the joke.

"I was only kidding Russ," she said finally. 

"It's okay. I don't know why I didn't tell you. In fact, I was thinking I was stupid for not telling you. I was worried you might like me less." Shrugging my shoulders, I looked away from her. 

"And there'd be no chance of getting me into bed if I knew you were married?" she asked, her voice flat. 

"Hey, I'd never..." I stopped as I looked up and saw she was ready to burst out laughing, teasing me for all I was worth. I beat her to it and we were in hysterics for a minute or so, drawing attention and disapproving looks from others in the bar.

"So, how long have you been married?" Jenny asked when we'd stopped laughing. 

"Two years. I'm a lucky guy, Jenny. She's a wonderful woman. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for her. You two would get on like a house on fire. Here." I took a picture of Susan from from my wallet, sliding it across the table, careful to avoid the drops of liquid gathered on the surface of the marble. 

"Wow, she's beautiful," she murmured, starring intently at the photo. 

"Thanks. What about you? You got anyone?"

"Not at the moment. I was seeing someone but he moved east for a promotion and made it obvious that was more important than me. I could've gone with him, but my friends and family are here. Not to mention the job, which I curse and moan about a lot, but secretly love. I love L.A., I enjoy meeting people and I like the attention when I'm out and about."

"Yeah, I noticed you don't exactly get ignored wherever you go. Hardly surprising though with your looks and figure." 

"Thanks." She blushed, the red flush on her cheeks refreshingly endearing. "But, I meant I get noticed when I'm out with the celebs." She took a swig of her vodka. "This is kind of a personal question..." she paused before going on, looking carefully at me as if to gauge my reaction. 

"Go on." 

"Have you or would you ever cheat on your wife?"

"Never have and I don't think I could," I replied. It was true, but I still spent the next few moments wondering if she was interested in me. My excitement grew while I waited for her to say something. She was busy stirring what was left of the ice in her drink, deep in thought. 

"I really admire that," she said eventually. "I thought that'd be the case. She's a lucky lady." I guess we're just lucky to have each other." 

She smiled that beguiling smile again, but it slowly faded, leaving her staring into space, looking sad and contemplative. She turned and indicated to the barmaid that she wanted another drink. The barmaid looked at me and I shook my empty glass, nodding. 

"Hey," I exclaimed hoping to cheer her. "I just realised I told you a little white lie."

"Oh yeah? What was that then?" 

"Do you ever watch Friends?"

She looked quizzical now. "The TV show?" 

"Yeah."

"I don't watch it religiously. Why?" The barmaid fetched the drinks, placing them on napkins on the table. Jenny swirled the ice in her drink with her fingers before taking a swig.

"Did you ever see the one where Ross had this laminated list of famous people that Rachel agreed he could sleep with if he ever got the chance?" 

"Yeah," she laughed. "That was funny. He bumps into Isabella Rossellini and has just scrubbed her off his list or something?" 

"Bingo." I fished out my wallet again. As I did so, Jenny groaned from the other side of the table, guessing what I was about to produce. I pulled my own version of Ross' list and tossed it like a Frisbee over to her. It was credit card sized and laminated for authenticity.

She was shaking her head, laughing at me. "You've gotta be kidding, no fucking way!" She looked over the names on the front of the card, reading each one off and commenting as she went along. "Susan Sarandon, too old! Kylie Minogue, too small! Jennifer Aniston, too into the most gorgeous men on the planet. No offence," she swiftly added glancing up to wink at me before continuing. "Rachel Hunter, too into rock stars, Nicole Kidman, too, too, err pasty!" ???> She flipped the card, engrossed. "Liv Tyler, too elf-like..."

"Too elf-like?"

She pressed on, ignoring me. "Angelina Jolie, too dangerous. Shannen Doherty. Umm." She paused, nodding her head. "Interesting." She looked up at me and smiled a knowing smile.

I stopped laughing and gave her a puzzled frown. "What, not too feisty or dark or bitchy?" "Maybe, maybe not. Interesting because I'm invited to a party she's attending in a couple of nights. You wanna come?" 

"Bollocks! I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself," she said smugly.

"You're serious?" Her eyes widened and she nodded a yes. "Count me in then. Where is it?" I said excitedly. 

"Aaron Wallender's mansion, Beverly Hills." 

I took a big swig of my Bourbon, draining the glass with the exception of two half-melted ice cubes. "Who the fuck's Aaron Wallender?" "Only one of the richest men on the West Coast." She leaned back into her seat, fanning herself with my list, looking relaxed and pleased with herself again. "He's like number two in UIP. I'm surprised you've never heard of him." 

I suddenly remembered the gallery of portraits on the wall as you enter the main doors at UIP. "Aaron Wallender? Hmm, let's see. Old guy, dyed black hair, fake tan, big toothy smile right?" 

"Very good, although I'd keep that description to myself." 

"Okay," I said grinning. 

"Another drink?" 

I looked down at my glass, surprised it was empty. I knew I'd had too much already but I was having fun and didn't want to stop. "Yeah, go on then. I'll go get 'em, I need to pee." 

As I came around the corner from the bathroom, I caught Jenny checking her face in a small mirror. I got the drinks and returned to the table, keen to know more about the party. "I can't believe I have a chance of meeting her," I said excitedly.

"Don't get your hopes too high," she warned. "There will be hundreds of people there and celebrities are renowned for not showing or making a brief appearance and bailing." 

"'Celebrities' as in plural? Who else is supposed to be there?"

"Arnie, Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz, a few B-Listers." 

"Arnie as in Arnold Schwarzenegger?" I failed to hide the excitement in my voice. 

"Yes, that Arnie. Maybe we shouldn't go if you're just going to embarrass me." 

I gave her a serious look. "I won't. I promise. Best behaviour, no embarrassing." 

"Okay, we'll go."

"Yeah!"

"But first you have to tell me if it's true."

"What?" 

"That Susan would happily let you screw one of these women if you had the chance." She threw the list back at me, hitting me square on the chest, the list coming to rest on my lap.

"Hey, I never said anything about her being happy about it, but she said I could do it. Look, it says there at the bottom and she signed it." I leaned across to show her the card again and highlight the small print. 

"So would you tell her?" 

"Awww come on. It's not like it's gonna happen anyway. It's just a bit of a laugh really." 

"It might." 

"Jeez Jenny. And I thought I lived in a dream world!" I was secretly excited at the thought but admitting it seemed like a sure-fire way of cursing any chance of fantasy becoming reality. 

"It may not have been a possibility two or three years ago, but now you're mixing in the land of the famous and anything could happen." She had a glint in her eye and gave my cheek a playful tug across the table. 

I imagined meeting Shannen, her finding me irresistible, the two of us unable to wait until we reached the hotel room, clothes being shed frantically in a spacious mirrored lift.

"Russ. Hello." Jenny interrupted, snapping her fingers. 

"Sorry."

She giggled. "No prizes for guessing what you were daydreaming about!" 

I flushed red again. This was getting embarrassing. "I know, I know. It's not easy having a healthy sex life pulled from under you, you know." 

"Aw, my heart bleeds Russ baby. How long's it been now? A week?" 

"Try ten days Miss Smarty Pants. Ten long, lonely days." 

"Try two months," she said rolling her eyes. 

"No thanks. Point taken, sorry." 

"No offence. I understand."

She squeezed my knee under the table, making me jump. I looked across the table and she started to divide into two different people. I shook my head and refocused, the images merging back into one.

"You okay?" she asked. 

"Think I've had a bit too much to drink," I grinned. "Can't really blame it on sunstroke at this time of night." 

"In that case, I suppose I better go." She quickly drank the remainder of her drink and stood, letting me walk her to the hotel forecourt where a bellman whistled for a cab. 

"Tomorrow then," she said. 

"Well, today actually," I quipped. She tried to clip me on the back of the head, but I ducked out of the way. She missed and lost her balance, but I caught her before she fell. Our eyes met, our faces almost touched and I swallowed hard as she moved slowly forward to kiss me. Her lips were soft and cool, they gently brushed my own, lingering just longer than would be considered normal between friends. We both pulled away at the same time, sharing an embarrassed smile.

"Night Russ," she whispered, twirling her hair a little nervously.

"Don't go," I said suddenly. She gave me a surprised look before ducking into the cab, obviously unsure what to say. I watched it pull away, cursing myself all the way back to my room.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. Little more than a peck on the lips and I was racked with guilt. Crazy. I'd not thought about another woman since meeting Susan, but Jenny was something else. My thoughts were alcohol-fuelled, and there was no denying I felt more than a little sexually frustrated. I decided I was grateful she'd ignored my final words and climbed in the cab to go home. 

I woke in a sweat a few hours later. It was five a.m.. and I had a sore head and a dry throat. Calling room service I ordered some ice-cold mineral water and headache tablets, recalling the dream I'd had as I waited for them to arrive. Jenny had been riding me, fucking me senseless when in walked Susan going crazy, flying at Jenny with her handbag and screaming at me, "She's not on the list! She's not famous!" 

I reached for the phone but stopped before my hand reached the receiver, realising that Susan would be at work. After swallowing two aspirin when they arrived, I tossed and turned for another hour before getting out of bed, deciding to go for a swim to clear my head. It didn't work. I couldn't concentrate all day and agreed on several of the suggestions Mr Rubenstein and his staff came up with on the classical music front just to get the day over with more quickly. I still felt rough when I got back to the hotel and left a message with the front desk asking them to tell Jenny I'd be staying in for the night when she called. I couldn't face seeing her after the way last night ended and the dream I'd had. Given half a chance, I had a feeling the temptation might prove too great to resist.

I crashed out on the bed upstairs and switched on the TV, flicking through the weather channel, various news channels, several cheesy sit-coms and a couple of old movies. I tried to get some sleep but it was no use. I couldn't get Jenny out of my head. I dragged myself into the shower, feeling much better when I emerged from under the invigorating water. I donned the robe on the back of the bathroom door, deciding to order one of the discreet adult movies on offer. I needed to get rid of some sexual frustration and that seemed like the perfect solution. 




Coming to America



I selected Busty Lesbo Bangers from the on-screen menu, starring Jenna Jameson. I kept my fingers crossed that they weren't obviously faking their pleasure and settled back on the bed with the blinds drawn and the door locked. The film didn't have much of a story line but Jenna Jameson was something else. If she was faking it, she was doing the finest job I'd ever witnessed. I pulled the robe apart and started to stroke my stiffening cock. Jenna had been seduced by her gym instructor. She must have been a good ten to fifteen years older than Jenna, but in great shape. The instructor attached a strap-on to her thigh and was seated on a workbench as Jenna bounced up and down on the big dildo. The instructor busily massaged Jenna's ample tits, nibbling and tonguing her ear, whispering the occasional encouraging sentence. "Fuck my big cock baby. Oh yes, harder honey, fuck me harder." Jenna's pussy was becoming increasingly wet as she rode the strap-on as if her life depended on it. 

I began to tug harder on my own cock, knowing I wasn't far from cumming. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the excited moans escaping Jenna's lips, imagining it was my own pole she was busy working up and down, her gorgeous breasts inches from my face.

Knock-knock.

I opened my eyes, unsure if the sound was coming from the TV. They were still going for it and it didn't seem like someone knocking had interrupted them. I muted the sound, holding my breath, hoping that whoever was at the door would go away. Thirty seconds or so passed without a sound and I breathed a sigh of relief, gingerly turning up the volume.

Knock, knock, knock!

It was louder this time. I hit the off button on the TV remote and closed my robe as I stepped across the room. I put my eye to the peephole to see Jenny waving at me. Oh boy. I checked down to ensure my stiffy had subsided enough to let me open the door. 

"Hi Russ," she offered. "Wanted to call round to make sure you were okay." 

"I'm feeling a bit better now thanks," I said. 

"Good. Can I come in?" 

I glanced behind me to make sure the TV was definitely off. "Sure." 

"Thanks."

She was looking just as hot as the night before. She had on a strappy little black dress that clung to her curves and her hair was tied in a cute ponytail. She sat on the edge of the bed and we both started speaking at the same time, before laughing nervously. "You first," I offered.

"About last night. I wanted to stay with you Russ but I wasn't quite sure what you wanted. I thought we'd probably had too much drink to risk coming up here. Can we forget about it?" 

"I'm the one who should be doing the apologising Jen. I was out of order. I didn't mean anything; I just didn't feel like spending the night alone. I'm sorry." 

"Nothing to be sorry for Russ." She smiled up at me. There was an awkward silence for a moment before she spoke again. "So what were you watching on the TV?" 

I could feel my cheeks reddening again, hoping more than anything that she couldn't hear clearly from out there. "Oh, nothing really." 

"Nothing huh?" she said mischievously. 

"You heard didn't you?" 

"Might have," she chuckled.

"I don't believe this!" I was too embarrassed to look at her. 

"Was it good?" she asked. 

I'd never chatted about porn with any female other than my wife. It didn't seem quite right but Jen obviously wasn't bothered. "It was actually," I admitted, chancing a look back at her. 

"Can I watch too?" 

"Aw Jen, I'm not sure that's a good idea. You wouldn't like it anyway." 

"Oh, is that right?"

I shrugged my shoulders at her, failing to think of a reasonable response and wishing we were talking about something else.

"Why wouldn't I like it then?" 

"It's a lesbian flick." 

"And?"

"And...I wrongly assumed you wouldn't find that erotic." I tried. 

"Bingo! Now switch on the TV and let's see what your judgement of porn's like." She looked very pleased with herself and swung round, making herself comfortable on the bed.

I cringed as I hit the 'On' button for the TV, wondering what'd be happening. Jenna and the instructor were now in the showers with another girl, busy soaping each other. The instructor and the new girl started kissing, while Jenna squatted down and lapped away at the instructor's pussy while fingering herself. 

"Is that Jenna Jameson?" asked Jenny. 

"You know her?" 

"Well, not personally, but I've seen a few of her movies. She's hot." 

"Mmm, I don't suppose she's going to be there tomorrow night," I said relaxing a little. 

"Not that I know of," she winked.

We sat silently watching the film for another five minutes or so. I spent half of the time looking at Jenny out of the corner of my eye; the light from the TV casting dancing shadows across her perfect skin. Her hands were steady and she was engrossed in the action.

"You were right, it is good," she said eventually, her eyes not leaving the screen.

"Uh-huh," I replied, still trying to control things down below. 

"Russ?" she said in a hesitant fashion that told me I might not like what she was about to say. 

"Yeah?" 

"Were you playing with yourself before I came in?"

For a second, I stayed focused on the screen to make sure I'd heard her right. I looked across at her, then back to the screen, not sure what to say. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Jenny suddenly looked at me and put a hand to her mouth.

"God, I'm sorry Russ. I got a bit carried away with the film. I shouldn't have asked you that. It was unprofessional of me. Sorry."

"A bit late to worry about unprofessional, Jen!" I laughed. "We're sitting here watching a bloody lesbian porn flick!" 

"I know, sorry. I think I'm a bit hot and flustered," she said fanning her face. "I'm surprised you aren't as hard as a bed post." She was staring directly at my crotch, before putting her hand to her mouth again. "God, sorry. I don't know what's got into me." 

I couldn't help but smile. "It's okay. I'm just not used to talking about this stuff with anyone other than Susan." 

"I know, I know. Let me make it up to you. Why don't you come over for dinner in an hour at my place? I'll make it worth your while, I promise." 

Her smile was innocent but I was sure there was more to her little plan than a quiet meal for two. "Okay, an hour it is." 

"Then, I better go and get things ready," she said climbing off the bed, taking one last lingering look at the screen. "I'll have a car come fetch you at nine okay?" 

"Okay." I opened the door and she stepped into the corridor.

She turned back and smiled mischievously. "Russ?" 

"Yes?" 

"Don't go blind before you come over will you?" She nodded toward my crotch and turned on her heels, giggling to herself as she went. 

I stepped back in the room, shut the door and stood for a moment with my hands on my hips trying to take in what had just happened. So much for staying away from Jenny. My thought train was broken by the unmistakable sound of a shuddering female climax. I turned to the TV and watched Jenna furiously cornhole the instructor with a blue strap-on, while the other girl lay beneath her lapping at her clit like a dehydrated dog in a bowl of water. I switched it off, no longer interested in jerking off or watching more of the film. My personal space had been invaded and Jenny's sweet perfume still lingered above my bed. I tried calling Susan but she wasn't in. I didn't leave a message.

I took my time getting ready, pondering momentous decisions such as aftershave or no aftershave, short sleeved shirt or casual t-shirt. Once the decisions were made and I was ready, I paced the room until I thought I was going to wear a hole in the carpet. I got on the bed, careful not to crease my shirt and read until five to nine, checking my hair one last time before going down to wait for my ride.

I knocked on the door of Jenny's apartment at 9:30 p.m. It was in a smart block of about thirty tenements stretching across four floors and a good twenty minutes drive from my hotel. Jen's was on the top floor, allowing a fine panoramic view across the neighbourhood. 

"Hi!" she said brightly, opening the door. 

"Hi. I thought you said you lived just around the corner," I replied. I tried to frown but a smile was curling at the corners of my mouth.

She shook her head at me as if I were mad, playing the dizzy blonde to perfection. "Nah, don't remember saying that. Come in." She'd changed out of her slinky party dress and into a short red skirt with a tight white strapless top. She certainly wasn't wearing a bra; her nipples were clearly visible through the thin material. Her legs were bare and she'd untied her hair.

"Nice place," I commented, nodding as I looked around. The decor was modern and bright, with eclectic colourful pictures brightening the otherwise pale walls.

"Thanks. It'll do 'til I can afford something bigger and a little closer to the ocean. Hungry?" 

"Yes, I am. What we having?" 

"Pasta salad, chicken risotto and I have chocolate cake for desert." 

"Wow, someone has been busy," I observed, impressed. 

"Oh, if only you knew," she quipped back, giving me one of her little winks. "Although, I have to admit that the cake was bought in." 

"You made the cream though?" 

"Who said anything about cream?" she laughed, aiming a playful jab at my chest.

The awkwardness I'd felt earlier at the hotel evaporated. The food was great and despite my protestations, Jen plied me with copious amounts of white wine. Neither of us mentioned the porn which suited me. I couldn't decide whether she had recovered her professionalism or had realised I'd been uncomfortable and embarrassed. One thing she didn't change was the heavy flirting. She had a glint in her eye through the meal, teasingly eating her food, accidentally rubbing her leg against mine under the table, giggling seductively, bending forward to give me delicious views of her tantalising cleavage and swishing her hair about as if she were starring in a shampoo commercial.

By the time she'd spooned in her last mouthful of chocolate cake, I was beginning to feel a bit hot under the collar. I imagined taking her on the table, ripping off her sexy little top, my hands on those glorious globes; passionately kissing her inviting lips, but the images in my head soon mixed with feelings of self-loathing and guilt. I was angry with myself for getting into the situation but horny as hell. I decided to finish my wine, make my excuses and finish the self gratification I'd started earlier. Before I had time to take a final swig, Jenny looked at me mischievously, her captivating gaze holding mine as she slowly rose from her chair. "Just need to go take care of something," she whispered, winking at me. 

She disappeared through a door into what appeared to be her bedroom. It was one of two doors on the far wall. The room in which we'd dined was large with an open floor plan. I stood and walked to see the view from her window, enjoying the brightly lit scene beneath me. 

Glancing toward the door where Jenny disappeared, I wondered what the hell she was doing, while at the same time not altogether sure I should know. Standing still I listened for a moment, straining against the hum of the city below. Nothing. All quiet. I walked to the leather couch and flopped down, scratching my head, wondering how I'd managed to end up here tonight. 

The sofa was just another irritation. Standing again I circumnavigated the room, pausing to look at a couple of family photos on a shelf, sandwiched between her books. Classic novels like The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, and 1984 cozied up alongside autobiographies, and even a Spanish dictionary. Feeling rather caged, I went back to the sofa, committing my ass to leather again and willing myself to calm down. Still, she'd been gone almost fifteen minutes. I rose again, closing the small window, shutting out the vibrating sounds of the city before stopping to listen for her again. There was something this time, but I couldn't quite hear it. I crept closer to the door, closed my eyes, hunching over slightly, concentrating.

My nerves sparked, my spine feeling the shock of it and forcing me bolt upright, uncertain if I'd heard what I thought I'd heard. I put my ear to the door again, only to have that ear subjected to the almost painfully arousing sounds of soft moaning and groaning from within. I wasn't imagining things. I wasn't sure what to do. It had to be Jenny, but what was she doing? Did she have someone else in there with her or was she just faking the noise as some kind of practical joke? I stood there for another minute listening, desperately wanting to know what she was doing.

To be at it this long, she had to anticipate that I'd become curious. Did she want me to go in there? I felt like a cat. Curiosity might have it in for me but the feral Tom part of that got the better of me. I knocked gently on the door. There was no reply. I tried again, a little louder this time and pathetically added, "Jen, you alright in there?" my voice breaking like a kid entering adolescence. I listened for an answer, but all I could hear was an enticing erotic resonance. 

I took a deep breath, turning the handle and slowly pushing the door inward. The moaning immediately became louder. Opening the door fully I poked my head in. This room was dimly lit, a lava lamp giving out the only faint silver-pink light. Jenny was nowhere to be seen. I stepped in, noticing Jenny's clothes pooled in front of another door across from me. The moaning and groaning were much louder and clearly originating behind that door. 

My cock had passed the 'stirring' stage was into full blown attention. Jenny's voice raised in delicious pitches of obvious arousal beyond the door was more than enough to set my sexual alarm clock screaming. Running both hands through my hair I sat down on her divan, frantically pondering my options. Another minute of her excited moans was all I could bear. At the very least, I had to watch her. I stood, quickly turning the door handle before I had chance to change my mind. I almost growled in frustration when it didn't budge. The sounds of passion beyond suddenly grew louder; more desperate. 

I couldn't stand it any longer. Jerking open my belt, I unfastened my fly and had my cock in my hand before I breathed again. A handily placed box of tissues was next to the lamp. Yanking one out, I noticed something red on the white tissue. I held it up to the lava lamp. Written in lipstick was the message, "Take down the picture." I looked around, half expecting someone to burst in with a video camera at any moment and shout "candid camera!" but no one appeared and Jenny was quite clearly still having fun. I stood awkwardly, wavering for a second before regaining my balance. Reaching for the nearest picture on the wall above the bed, I lifted it down, blinking as a shot of light appeared from the wall behind the print. 

Hurriedly I stepped out of my trousers and boxers, removed my socks and scrambled onto the bed, my cock bobbing comically. Peering through the small hole, I saw Jenny sitting on a small chair in the middle of the bathroom fervently rubbing along her exposed slit. Her head was thrown back; her other hand pinched and massaged feverishly at her nipples. I instinctively started replicating her movements, my hand jacking up and down quickly and excitedly on my throbbing cock, my body responding instantly. Groans started escaping my own lips and Jenny heard them. 

For a moment I was worried she might stop. She straightened, looking straight at me, and gave me a devilish smile, teasingly running her tongue around her full lips and squirming around on the chair as she used both hands to cup and squeeze her breasts. Opening her stocking-clad legs, her hands moved tantalisingly down her torso, over her garter belt and toward her slick, shaved pussy. She parted her pussy lips with her right hand, seductively sucking on the middle finger of her left before sliding it deep into her pussy and fucking herself. I slowed my own pace to match her rhythm, using all my powers of control to keep myself from decorating her bedroom wall. 

"Oh Russ," she suddenly gasped. "Is it good for you, Russ? Do you like my cunt?"

"God yes!" I shouted in reply. My head and cock were both at bursting point. 

Jen removed her finger and elegantly rose from the seat, blowing me a kiss before turning and walking toward the sink. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she wiggled her way across the room. She stopped and bent down, her arse high in the air as she opened the cupboard doors beneath, stretching her garter belt taut across her thigh tops and allowing me an exquisite view of her beautiful derriere. She removed a pink vibrator and turned to face me, sucking on the sex toy as she walked back to the chair. Jen noisily dragged it across the floor to less than three feet from the wall. As she sat down and spread her legs, I could see her pebbled nipples and her moist and inviting pussy lips. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer; I quickly grabbed a handful of tissues, ready for the glorious moment of release. 

Jen ran the tip of the vibrator tauntingly along her slit; pouting and breathing heavily up at me. She was a natural and her performance was far more satisfying than any skin flick I'd ever seen. Apart from the obvious difference that this was real life unfolding before my feasting eyes, she was undoubtedly aroused by her display of self-gratification and enjoying her exhibitionism every bit as much as I. Without warning, the vibrator plunged between her lips and disappeared into her soaking cunt, bringing a gasp of pleasure from her. Jen held it fully inside her and turned a dial at the bottom of the fake cock, a steady buzzing noise emitting from within. Her breathing grew quicker and she began to move the toy in and out stretching her legs wider still and running the vibrator up to her clit as it left her cunt before sliding quickly back inside. "Oh Russ!" she exclaimed, her eyes closed and her cheeks growing redder by the second. "Fuck me, Baby! Yes, yes, oh god." 

Before she could get out her next filthy sentence, my cock erupted and I came in a glorious, almost surreal silence. I gritted my teeth as pleasure surged to my head, expelling pent-up banks of sexual frustration. I was still spurting my final shots of sticky cum into the tissue as she cried out, "Cum for me, Russ. Cum Baby, oh god, oh yes. Cum with me. Oh, oh, oh, oh yes, Russ!" Her body was shaking, breasts trembling gently as her own orgasm washed over her. Her lips quivered, a thin sheen of sweat gathering above them.

"Oh fuck," she said quietly, gently shaking her head before opening her eyes, offering me a sweet and knowing smile. "I hope that was as good for you as it was for me." 

I tore my gaze away from the hole in the wall, cleaning myself up before carefully replacing the picture above the bed. My mind and body were a confused concoction of tingling pleasure, guilt, thankfulness and sheer disbelief. I heard the shower in the bathroom and somehow resisted the urge to remove the picture again and watch Jenny soap herself clean. Instead, I dressed and straightened the bed before leaving the room.

Tossing my soiled tissues in the wastecan, I washed my hands in the kitchen sink before pouring myself a large glass of wine. I wandered over to the window, staring at the sparkling cityscape. I drank quickly, attempting to eradicate the feeling of guilt engulfing me. I wanted to go, but thought it would be awkward if I didn't stay and say thank you or something. What would Susan make of what I'd just witnessed and done? Did she need to know? Would it be possible to refrain from telling her? Jenny appeared from the bathroom in a pair of cotton pyjamas, her hair still wet. She was smiling innocently, looking relaxed, happy and refreshed.