4 comments/ 37252 views/ 5 favorites Homecoming Queen By: adam applebiter [Author's note -- All characters are fictional and depicted as over 18.] Dear Bernadette, I hope you are well. I'm writing to you because you were so kind to Robbie when you were his babysitter and, well, I have a favour to ask of you. It's always difficult to ask for help, isn't it? And when I haven't kept in touch with you for so long, and with the unpleasant things that have been said about you back here in recent months... As I said, it's hard to ask for help but I don't know what else to do. Robbie's senior prom is next week and he's not going. Not only not going but also spending seemingly all his time in his room, sulking about it. He won't go alone and the girl he asked -- the only girl he's ever expressed any interest in and who we both thought felt the same -- had already agreed to go with one of the football team. Robbie refuses to consider asking anyone else and, in his words, won't be the blind boy alone in the corner. Honestly, Bernadette, I'm at my wit's end. You know how stubborn Robbie can be and, after we fought so hard to get him into a regular school it's awful that his time in high school is going to end on such a personal low note. Would it be too much to ask for you to call him and talk things through? He always listened to you and, to judge by his angry responses to the gossip about your personal life, still hasn't quite gotten over the crush he had on you. I'm sure he'd listen, if only you could spare the time to talk with him. I'm sorry. I know you're very busy but I can't think of anyone else he would listen to and time is running out. Best regards, Jayne x x Ms. Jayne Pugh. * * * * * "What're you two up to?" Eric found B and Helen naked in the closet. At least, the spare room they'd taken over as a closet. He leant on the jamb in his running gear, watching his courtesans folding and packing clothes. They had a lot of clothes, considering they so rarely bothered wearing any around him. "Packing." Helen offered an accurate but essentially pointless explanation. "Can I borrow the jet?" B asked without turning. "Sure. Do I get to know where you two are going?" "Only me." B said, picking a piece of paper off the dresser and bringing it to him. "She's expanding your social development program." Helen said. Eric perused the letter. It was addressed to B, care of the gallery. "I'm gonna be a prom date again." B clarified. "It's about time I went home anyway. Just to see if I can't mend a few fences with my folks. This is a great opportunity for that and I really want to help Robert if I can." " If you can't, I'll send Helen to help." Eric knew that wouldn't be necessary: B always got her own way and the eighteen-year-old boy wasn't born that would pass up the chance to be her date. B's look said that she thought that'd be unnecessary too. "Thanks." She hugged him, crumpling the letter between his shirt and her bare bosom. "You're welcome." In theory, men find it difficult to refuse naked women. In practice, Eric hadn't tried. It wouldn't occur to him to refuse B, or Helen, anything. He loved them and expressed it most often by finding ways to indulge their wayward ways. Jealousy? There was no room for that in their relationship. B would go and do what -- who -- she wanted and Eric would look forward to hearing all about it. * * * * * "Robbie? You have a visitor." Jayne knocked on her son's door but, as was usual lately, he ignored her. She'd been shocked by B's unannounced arrival. She'd been even more shocked when B, over coffee, had explained why she was there. When Jayne wrote that letter, she'd hoped that Bernadette -- B, she mentally corrected herself -- she'd hoped that B would call Robbie; talk to him; perhaps, persuade him to ask another girl to the prom or even to go stag. She'd never expected that B would turn up in person and she was more than a little unsettled by it. After all, she thought, B is the town scandal since news broke of what she does for a living and when people get wind of why she's back... well, Robbie will be the subject of more than a little gossip too. B's plan was simple. She was going to be Robbie's prom date. "Robbie? Please open the door." Yes, thought Jayne, as she knocked fruitlessly on Robbie's door, there would be a lot more gossip if B got her way. * * * * * Jayne wasn't stupid: She'd immediately suspected an ulterior motive and called B on it. "Why are you doing this, B? It's not just about Robbie's prom. Are you using him as just another way to shock the people you grew up with?" Jayne was not in the pro-B camp when it came to the gossip. She felt so sorry for B's parents and just didn't understand why anyone would deliberately court such notoriety. B had been such a sensible, bright girl... "I do have the right to face my accusers. But no, I'm not just looking for an excuse to shake up this complacent town. Robbie's been through a lot and he deserves his senior prom. Having me on his arm will get him noticed and, as we both know, people around here don't forget quickly. Notoriety is like cologne. I stink of it, but a little bit rubbing off on Robbie will make him a lot more attractive after I've gone." "Everyone will think..." Jayne didn't even want to think it, let alone say it out loud. "That I slept with him? Jayne? Understand this: I will do everything I can to get Robbie to fuck me because that's all I have to offer him. I'm guessing he hasn't gotten himself laid yet?" "What? No! I... I'd know." Jayne was stunned by B's bluntness. "Of course you would. And Poor Robbie can't even get his kicks from porn. He must be so frustrated. What would you have done if Robbie had his sight and you found dirty magazines in his room?" "I'd... I guess I'd ignore it. It's a phase boys go through, isn't it?" Jayne was thinking of the magazines her boyfriend didn't think she knew about. She was also thinking what Harry would say when he heard all this. "Ok, so think of me as a Braille girlie magazine. Just ignore what's going to happen and pretend it's a normal part of Robbie's growing up." "It's not the same. You know it's not the same." Jayne couldn't believe they were even discussing it. "No, it's not the same. I won't teach Robbie to objectify women." B liked this line. It was her stock defence against feminist outrage at her modelling. "I don't know... No...No, I can't let you-" "Robbie's 18. He doesn't need your permission and I only need his." B didn't like to get confrontational - She was here to help -- but sometimes you just had to be cruel to be kind. "And the whole point of Senior Prom is that it's a rite of passage, like losing your cherry. Let him be a man, Jayne." B reached out and patted Jayne's hand. Jayne, like many 'average' women -- she'd been called Plain Jayne all the way through high school -- didn't trust beauty. A part of her was whispering that B always got her own way because she was beautiful and that was so unfair. But most of her thoughts were coagulating into acceptance that Robbie was, as B pointed out, grown up. And that's the train of thought that got her to the top of the stairs and knocking on Robbie's door. She hoped that Robbie would just send B away -- he'd been brought up properly after all -- but somehow she doubted he would. There was no answer. She knocked again while B waited patiently behind her. A hand on Jayne's arm stopped a third knock. "Let me try." B's tone was reassuring as she steered Jayne out of the way. "Robbie? It's Bernadette." B called through the closed door before reaching for the handle and finding it not locked anyway. With a shrug she slipped through, closing the door behind her and turning the key. Now it was locked. "Go away." A sullen voice drew her attention to a heap of bedding that must be concealing her quarry. "I can't do that, Robbie. I have my reputation to consider." B moved over to the bed and sat on the edge, gently easing the sheet away from Robbie's face. He pulled it back off her and hid his face again. "Go away." He repeated. "No." B said in a syrupy sweet tone. Then she stood up and pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing it onto a chair where Robbie's clothes were neatly folded. Blind people have to be tidy -- obsessively so -- or their environment becomes hazardous. B's miniskirt joined her top, leaving her naked -- well, almost. She kicked off her shoes, sat back down on the bed and started to touch herself. Whether it was the scent of her arousal or the soft sighs of pleasure that got Robbie's attention first we may never know, but get his attention she did. "What are you doing?" the sullen voice crept out of the bed. "Masturbating." B carried on. "What? Why?" Robbie's head broke cover and he sat up quickly. B took advantage of the extra space on the bed and spun on her bottom to straddle his calves, spreading her legs wide and rubbing her moist pussy as noisily as she could, moaning as the increment in tempo lifted her that bit closer to orgasm. "Because its fun and there's nobody here to do it for me." "No. Why are you here at all?" He still sounded sullen. If he could have seen her, he wouldn't have been asking such dumb questions but he could only hear what she was doing to herself and it's nowhere near as attention monopolizing that way. "Ok." B stopped strumming her labia. "I'm here to be your prom date and-" "No way. No fucking way!" Robbie almost exploded. "And to fuck you senseless." B's sweet and reasonable tones belied the steely determination and bluntness of her intent. "No fucking way!" Robbie tried to crawl backwards, to distance himself from his ex-babysitter, but his shins were trapped under her. "I used to be your fantasy. I remember how big a crush you had on me five years ago." "I was a kid." "You were sweet and I was flattered. Now I'm returning the compliment. You're not a kid anymore and I want to be the one who makes a man of you." She reached out to touch the blankets where his hips should be. "Bingo! Houston, we have an erection." A semi at any rate. "Get off me!" Robbie tried to slap her hand away. He wasn't softening towards her advances but her hand stayed where it was and he wasn't softening there either -- quite the opposite. "Ok." B surprised him by hopping off the bed. She surprised him more when she flipped the bedding off him to get a look at the tent in his shorts. "Ooh!" she cooed. "Is that for me?" "No." Robbie's hands tried to hide the bulge and grope for the bedding at the same time, failing on both counts and eliciting a giggle from B. "Suzanna?" Suzanna was the girl who'd started all this by accepting someone else's invitation to the senior prom. "No!" Robbie protested, wrestling with B for the sheet to cover his embarrassment. "Well it looks very big, whoever it's for." It didn't -- only average -- but B knew her trade well, and a trade it was, even if this was pro bono. Pro bono! She giggled at her own pun. "Get out!" Robbie was almost in tears of frustration and anger. "I already told you, no." B had a better idea. She bounced back onto the bed, straddling his hips and resting her weight firmly on his bulging shorts, wiggling as she settled. "Now that's not nice." She caught his wrists as he flailed at her, trying to push her off. He was strong but she had the advantage of sight and guided his wrists so his palms landed squarely on her breasts as he tried to shove her. "That's more like it!" She taunted. Robbie recoiled from her, breaking her grip on his arms. There were tears now. "I bet that's the first tit you've had your hands on? Yes?" She ignored his tears, leaning forward, rubbing her mons over his crotch, harder by the minute, and stroking his chest. There was no answer. "Ok, Mr strong-silent-type. I'll just play with them myself." And she did: Twisting her hard nipples and moaning with pleasure as her hips gyrated against him. The heat of her pussy must have been a new and intense feeling for Robbie but he was as still as a corpse, trying his best to ignore her -- no easy thing. She let go of one breast and reached down to her crotch, quickly slipping her fingers past the waistband of Robbie's shorts to grab his cock. It throbbed in her hand. With one practiced movement, she raised her bottom, hauled his cock out into the open and impaled herself on it. Job done! "Oops! There goes your virginity!" She laughed. "Whatever else happens, Robbie dear, I'll always be your first lover." She leant right forward to caress his face, brushing away a stray tear and kissing him on the cheek. She was aiming for his mouth but he turned away from her. "Why are you doing this?" He sobbed. "I told you already. Because you had a crush on me... And because some silly girl hadn't the good sense to realize how fortunate she was... And because I'm an immoral harlot that half this town wants to tar and feather but, as I heard it, you're one of those who defended me." This time, she caught his mouth as he turned to speak. Her hands on his cheeks controlled the kiss until he gave in and kissed her back. "I..." "Shh..." She kissed him again to kill the conversation and resumed the rocking of her hips, squeezing his hard cock inside her. "Fuck now, talk later." And that did the trick. Robbie's hips finally started to push up towards her. B lifted a little of her weight off his hips to give him manoeuvring room and matched her pace to his. Lifting his hands to her breasts, she sighed as, this time, he massaged the soft flesh inexpertly but with enthusiasm. "I'm Sorry." Robbie convulsed briefly then sagged into motionlessness again. He'd come in one brief spurt -- all too brief but B was used to that from virgins. It would still be another notch on her bedpost. "Silly boy." B lay on top of Robbie and nuzzled at his neck. "Don't apologise for coming. That was the purpose of the exercise." She could feel him starting to soften and wiggled her hips to dislodge him. "Besides, it was your first time. Am I right?" "Yes." He looked sheepish, as all guys do admitting that. B loved virgins for that shyness. I was such fun watching them grow a self-confidence gland overnight. She moved off him and repositioned herself with her face close to his wilted cock, examining its moist slickness and forlorn limpness. Well, she knew a cure for that. "And is this going to be your first blow job?" She asked matter-of-factly, taking his cock between her lips and starting to massage his glans with her tongue. "Wha... Yes." Robbie, taken by surprise, relaxed and let B revive his penis. It didn't take long to get him hard again, then B really went to work, stroking his length while she nibbled along the underside of his cock all the way to his balls, which she sucked on gently before kissing her way back to his tip and deep-throating him briefly. B was a most accomplished fellatrix: the product of practice and enthusiasm. Robbie had no basis for comparison but what was happening to his cock was surpassing anything he'd imagined. He moaned as B's tongue crossed the most sensitive part of his glans -- it was a divine torture, but he tried so hard to hold onto his load just a few seconds longer. He tried... and failed, coming in B's mouth with little warning. B swallowed and continued licking his cock until it stopped twitching and was pretty much clean. She only released him when despite her caresses he started to soften. "Still want me to get out?" She crawled back up the bed to kiss his cheek and snuggle close, her breasts pressed against his arm while he caught his breath. "Yes." Said Robbie with undisguised irony, reaching tentatively toward her face. B intercepted his hand and drew it to her lips, kissing his palm. "Well then, before I go, would you like to take the tour?" B lay still and quiet while Robbie's fingertips; sensitive enough to read Braille, mapped her face and body. It wasn't the first time he'd touched her face to 'see' it like this, but being touched everywhere with such delicate deliberation was definitely new. It was obviously new to Robbie too. His fingers trembled as his adrenalin levels soared, but he took his time and was meticulous in his attention to every detail. B Only moved when absolutely necessary, spreading her legs, lifting her arms and, once, rolling over. It was as sensual as one of Eric's massages and her already sticky pussy was dripping by the time Robbie had finished. "You're beautiful." Was all he said when he'd finished. "Yes." B knew she was. It wasn't arrogance to admit what everyone else told her so often. "I get told that a lot, but I like what I see in the mirror too." "I wish I could see you." Robbie rarely expressed regret at his blindness. His wistfulness caught at B's attention and she drew him close, cradling his face against her breasts. "I know, Robbie. I know." She held him for a long time, stroking his hair and wondering how to lift his spirits. Then an idea blossomed. "Robbie?" "Yes?" He pushed away from her bosom, sitting up straight again. B noticed that he was erect again. "The way you see..." "Stereognostically." "Is that what it's called? Ok. I can't do that. I can close my eyes and touch things but I can't build a mental image of them the way you do." "Because your brain is hardwired for visual images." "Whatever. My point is... I know what I look like to most people. I can see myself just by looking in a mirror. But I don't know what I look like to you. Can you tell me? Describe me to me?" "I can try." "Please." Rolled into lotus position facing him. "Ok." He reached towards her again. She was pretty sure he remembered what she 'felt' like -- it had only been a few minutes -- but if Robbie wanted another excuse to touch her, well, that was what she was here for. She resisted the urge to guide his hand to her face, sitting perfectly still and waiting for him to find her. His touch, when it came, was as feather-light as the first time, but his fingers trembled a fraction less. "Your face is very symmetrical; small chin; small nose too -- straight, and small." B stifled a giggle as his fingertips touched her nostrils. "You have full lips -- are you pouting?" "No. They're naturally that full." "Full lips and..." He paused as B's mouth opened, running the tip of his index finger over her bottom teeth. "Even teeth." "All the better to bite you with." B jibed. "Great complexion. Not even a hint of any zit scars or spots. So soft." This last observation was almost a whisper, as if he were speaking to himself. "Your eyebrows don't meet in the middle. That's a good thing, right?" "Right." B was surprised he knew that. "Two eyes. That's a good thing two. Your ears don't stick out." His finger and thumb traced the shape of her ear down to the lobe. "Pierced." He wiggled the sleeper rings she wore. "Hair, shoulder length, straight, well conditioned. Hmm." He leant close to sniff her. "Smells of coconut." B took the opportunity to kiss him while he leant close. "Mmm. Breath, sweet; just a hint of peppermint." His hands stroked her neck. "Slender, long neck. "His touch on the nape of her neck sent an involuntary shiver of pleasure down her spine. He felt it. "Oh. An erogenous zone." "Yes." B confirmed, somewhat redundantly. "Skin still smooth, positively silken." His hands had reached her shoulders and were moving slowly together along her clavicles, intent on meeting just above her breasts. "So soft." Robbie cupped her breasts, pausing to enjoy the moment. B gave him all the time he wanted. Her nipples grew even more prominent as they responded in their own special way to his touch. "So soft." He repeated as he gently caressed her bosom. "Except here... and here." He rolled her hard nipples between finger and thumb then traced the goosebumps on her areolae in little circles around those prominent buds. "What size are these?" He asked, cupping the underside of her breasts again. Homecoming Queen "32B" "Slim." His hands grudgingly abandoned her tits, stroking the ripples made by her ribs. "That tickles." B giggled. So Robbie reversed, tickling her again as he worked back up her ribcage to her armpits. That really tickled, but B lifted her arms and let him explore. His fingers followed the length of her arms to her wrists, which he held and drew towards him. "Very slim." He pressed her right palm to his lips, then her left. Then, letting go of her wrists, he took one of her hands and traced every inch of it with his fingertips. "Long, slender fingers. Short nails. I'm glad you don't bite them. Bitten nails are so... rough. This is a good manicure." "Helen does them." "Helen?" "My girlfriend & fellow courtesan." "Ahh. All the gossip about you being a lesbian is true then." "Probably." B hadn't heard all the gossip but was willing to bet it didn't do her justice. "I'm surprised your nails aren't a little longer." In Robbie's experience, well-manicured hands usually included long nails, real or fake. "Long nails are a hazard when your fingers spend as much time inside people as mine do." B was happy to explain her practical manicure. "Ahh." Robbie's cock twitched in his lap as this sank in. B noticed and smiled to herself. His hands moved back to her torso, stroking the taut but not pronounced muscles of her abdomen. "You're fit. Toned." "Supple too." B unfolded her legs and spread them wide, almost to full box split position. "I guess that qualifies as an innie." His finger probed her navel. "But only just. Oh. Yes. I see what you mean by supple." His hands, descending to her hips, found her legs spread wide and smoothed their way along her thighs. "More good muscle tone. Smooth too. Wax?" "Yes. Everywhere." His touch moved back along the insides of her thighs, making her tremble. She was feeling horny as hell. The intimacy of this examination was really doing the trick. "More erogenous zones." Robbie noted her reaction as he touched her inner thighs. "Ah. The sanctum sanctorum." He finally reached her crotch, fingers softly tracing the front of her labia, still sticky from their first fuck. He made tiny circular sweeps over her mound. "Yes. Waxed everywhere." He agreed. One finger found the very top of her labia, where they met. "So warm." B leant back, legs still splayed, propping herself on her elbows, to give him access to more than just the front of her vagina. "That's my clitoris." B sighed as his inquisitive digit followed the fissure down a fraction, over the hood and rested on the button -- literally. "Don't stop." She implored as his finger moved down. She was more than ready for an orgasm. Robbie took the hint, unsubtle as it was, and returned his attention to her throbbing clit. "Like this?" He circled it slowly, gently. "Yes..." B relaxed and let herself float on the rising tide of her first climax of the day. "Faster!" She instructed, as she got closer. Robbie responded and in moments all her pent up sexual energy shorted out her nervous system and she squealed in ecstatic release. Robbie had the presence of mind to keep strumming her clit as she thrashed under his caress. Eventually, her own hand on his stilled his busy fingers and B sat up panting. "Thank you." She leant forward, cupping his face between her palms and kissing him deeply. "I needed that." "You're welcome." Robbie, bemused by her politeness, remembered his manners. "That was amazing." "Yes, it was. Guys generally have a rougher technique than girls but you're as gentle as Helen. Amazing." She kissed him again then lifted his sticky fingers to her mouth and flicked at them with her tongue. "You were telling me how I looked to you." She gently reminded him what they'd been up to before being sidetracked by her orgasm. She pressed his hand back between her legs too, in case hinting wasn't enough. "Later." Robbie took control of the situation for the first time. "First things first." He moved to lie down, drawing her down beside him on the bed and easing his way between her thighs. Silently, B reached for his penis and guided it into her still sticky pussy. As Robbie settled pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest and lips to lips, kissing her, seemingly for the first time, she rolled onto her back, letting his weight settle upon her until he slowly started to ease in and out of her body. B moved her hips, matching his rhythm and gripping him inside her. Her knees rose up either side of his hips and her hands rested on his taut buttocks, urging him on. She hadn't been taken with this much tenderness since... Well, since Parry, Helen's Dad. Robbie had none of Parry's awesome technique but the gentleness of his lovemaking more than made up for his lack of experience. Anyway B could deal with inexperience. She used her own movements and her hands on his ass to guide him and her moans of pleasure surely told him when he got things right. When she really wanted him to step up the pace, she let her fingertip find his ass and just tickled his sphincter, not intruding, but goading him up a gear. It worked and she writhed under him as the quickening tempo of his thrusts kept pace with that of her heartbeat until, with an almost leonine roar, he came deep inside her. B had been close to her own climax but poor Robbie was still too much the tyro to last long. B wasn't too disappointed though. She held him inside her while he softened, nuzzling his neck and whispering sweet nothings in his ear while he caught his breath. He wasn't as fit as he should be -- Blind kids don't get to do much sport. * * * * * "You still won't get to go to the prom." Robbie was explaining while they showered together. "Maybe not as your date, but that isn't the plan." B loved sharing showers. Washing each other was a great way to get to know each other -- more intimate than sex, despite what most people think. Robbie had been a quick study too. He was being very thorough. "So what is the plan?" "You missed a bit." B caught his wrist and guided his hand to her butt. "Don't be coy, Robbie. My ass is as available to you as the rest of me." She didn't have to wait long for him to capitulate and start soaping around her anus. "Good boy." She patted his cheek affectionately. "The plan?" Robbie asked again. "You, Master Pugh, are going to be my escort and I... I'm going to be the guest of honour." "What? How?" "Because, my darling boy, while you're standing here with me, trying to work up the courage to push that finger in, Principal Mathers is on the phone with my attorney, finding out just how generous I'm going to be to my alma mater. Do you think he'll turn down an annual Ivy League scholarship just to keep me out of his school next Saturday night?" "A scholarship?" Robbie was still soaping her ass but didn't take the hint about getting more intrusive. "An arts scholarship for one pupil each year who can get accepted to any Ivy League school. I'll cover all academic costs, accommodation, return travel every semester and a bursary for living expenses of $1000 a month with a $5000 bonus every semester you finish in the top 10 percentile." "Me?" "You, Robbie. Your mom showed me your SATs. Congratulations, Mr Pugh. You are the first ever recipient of the Bernadette Kennedy Scholarship. Which college would you like to go to?" She watched his face as this sunk in. It was a picture of confusion. "I... I... " Robbie was lost for words. "The water's going cold." B noted, reaching to turn off the shower. All the soap had been washed away minutes ago anyway. "But..." "That's two questions you haven't answered. Lets try a third. Hungry?" It was lunchtime and breakfast had been many hours ago for B. She eased out of Robbie's arms and got out to dry herself off. "What? Oh... Yes. Hungry. It must be lunch time by now." He got out too. "Thanks." He accepted a towel and started to rub himself dry. "Well one out of three isn't bad." B noted. "One out of three what?" "Questions." "What questions?" He was lost in this verbal labyrinth. "Do you really think Principal Mathers will turn down a scholarship to keep me off his premises?" "Eh? No. At least, I don't think so. He'd have a lot of explaining to do if he started turning down money." "Exactly. So I'm going to be an honoured guest on Saturday and you shall escort me to the ball. "You've got it all worked out, haven't you?" "Yes. All except which school you want to go to next year." "I don't know. I've kind of got used to the idea I wasn't going to be able to just pick the one I want. I was going to go to State." "Well now you do get to pick. However, if you pick Harvard, I can guarantee you membership of a fraternity too. I have a lot of influence with Phi Kappa Delta. It's my old fraternity. Eric made Helen and I it's first female members when he was president." "It's a lot to take in." Robbie shook his head. "I know Robbie. Only a couple of hours ago you were a sulky virgin who wasn't going to the ball and was going to State. It's been quite a morning." She dropped her towel and flowed up against him to sweeten the pill with a hug. Robbie's arms encircled her, his hands resting on her buttocks. "Thank you. For everything." Robbie's eyes, usually closed, were blinking back tears. "You're welcome." B stood on tiptoe to kiss away the saline moisture on his cheeks. "I make one hell of a fairy godmother, don't I?" "Yes you do." Robbie stayed very still while B kissed his eyelids. * * * * * "A scholarship?" Jayne was sitting opposite B and Robbie, trying not to notice how often her son found excuses to touch his former babysitter. B seemed completely at ease with his attentions: At ease with the whole situation. Jayne most definitely wasn't. When they'd come out of Robbie's room and both ended up in the bathroom at the same time, Jayne had figured out what had been going on behind Robbie's door. Knowing was one thing, but having Bernadette announce the fact across the dining table was another matter. Jayne had spent the morning convincing herself she hadn't been mad to write to Bernadette and had just about managed to reconcile herself to how out of control things appeared to be going when B brightly announced that Robbie had discovered the best way to get over one girl was to get under another. "I get paid quite a lot for modelling." B explained as much as she thought Jayne needed to know. "And I really don't need all the money. I've told Robbie all he has to do is pick a school. Eric's attorney's will arrange everything else." She squeezed Robbie's hand between her knees and fed him a morsel of her sandwich. "But Robbie's never looked after himself. He's..." "Blind? I know. All grown up? I know this too." Another squeeze of his hand, which was creeping up her thigh. "Jayne, its just logistics. He'll need a housekeeper so we'll provide a housekeeper. One who can drive him wherever he needs to be. Whatever objections you have can be addressed. Just make a list." B flashed Jayne her sweetest non-come-on smile. "I don't know. Its-" "Its what I want to do, Mom." Robbie said. "Really. I'm eighteen. I can't live at home forever." "Yes but... I know." Jayne sounded resigned but she knew that sooner or later Robbie would have to spread his wings and the scholarship was a wonderful opportunity for him. Jayne may have serious doubts about B's methods and behaviour but she never doubted that B truly cared about Robbie. That's why Jayne had turned to her for help in the first place, wasn't it? "Mom." Robbie groped for his Mom's hand across the table. She met him halfway and their fingers intertwined. "Mom, its all good. Trust me. Trust B." He even sounded more grown up. If a couple of hours in B's company had transfused this much self-assurance into him, what would a week of her do to him? Jayne mentally shrank back from even speculating on that. "And you've decided to go to the senior prom after all?" Jayne fell back into safer territory. This was, after all, the official reason B was here. "Yes. Against my better judgement," Robbie tried to sound reluctantly resigned to his fate. "The things guys will go through just to get laid. Right Jayne?" B decided it was time to lighten the mood. While Jayne goldfished in stunned silence, B took control again. "So now we're off to get you all tuxed up." She stood, dragging Robbie to his feet too. "Jayne, can you call us a cab? Robbie. Grab anything you can't live without overnight. I need the bathroom." "Where are we going?" Robbie asked as they reached the foot of the stairs. "Boston. There won't be a decent tux left in this town so I'm killing two birds with one stone. I'm going to make a pitch for Harvard before you decide which college to go to and Eric's tailor can sort out a jacket for you while we're there. Ok?" "Sure." Robbie was bemused. Life was moving so fast since B turned up that all he could do was hang on and hope the roller coaster stopped before his grip on events failed him. Jayne called the cab company that usually ferried Robbie around. She felt as dazed as her son, though for different reasons. Still, having both of them out of town was preferable to having B still here when Harry got home. He was definitely in the anti-Bernadette camp and Jayne was not looking forward to the scene when Harry found out what she'd instigated and with whom. No, Robbie's absence would be easier to explain than B's presence. * * * * * "Mr Hawkes? It's B, Mr Kruppa's assistant... Well it's nice to hear you say so... Not at all. The reason I'm calling is I have a rush job for you... No, just adjustments: I have a gentleman in need of a tuxedo before Saturday and we'll be in Boston late this afternoon. I was hoping you could swing by this evening and re-fit one of Eric's jackets... Seven? That'll be fine... Thank you, Mr Hawkes. Goodbye." "Mr Kruppa's assistant?" Robbie was amused at that oh-so-polite euphemism. In the last two hours he'd heard quite a bit of detail about B's life with Eric and Helen -- and a supporting cast of heaven knows how many others -- because B thought her version of the story of her descent into depravity was as good a way as any to pass the time while the jet was prepped and the pilot filed a flight plan. Even when you own a plane, flying involves a lot of bureaucracy and waiting at airports. "Actually, I think Mr Hawkes would remember me without any introduction. Not many customers get measured naked. Helen and I decided we wanted men's suits and Mr Hawkes made them for us." Another of B's indiscretions came to light. "Is there anyone you've met who hasn't seen you naked?" "You. But that's a special case. We still have nearly an hour before our flight. Why don't you tell me some of the gossip about me? I'd like to know what I have to live up to on-" B was interrupted by her phone. "Parry! How's it hanging? ... So it's a done deal? Marvellous. Did Principal Mathers put up any kind of fight? ... Really? ... Oh my! Thank you, Parry. Kisses." She pocketed the phone again. "Cinderella, you shall go to the ball. Principal Mathers held out for the right to pick the scholarship recipients but you were his first choice anyway so we're going to let him believe it was his idea. Ok, Honey?" "You really are going to do this aren't you?" Robbie was in genuine awe of B's ability to make the world fit her view of how it should be. "Of course." She moved onto his lap and tucked his hand between her thighs, ignoring the few other people in the VIP lounge. "B, you're amazing." "Just don't fall in love with me." B was all too aware that Robbie was quite an innocent and could easily end up as a pet -- not good. "I... I'll try not to." He was stung by her words. Perhaps because he was feeling quite infatuated right now. "I didn't mean it like that, Honey." B stroked his cheek affectionately. She could see her admonition had hit him like a slap. "Just think of me as a friend you can fuck -- fuck any which way you want -- but not as a girlfriend. Ok?" "Ok." He still didn't sound too cheerful. "Robbie. I'm your first lover. That's really special, but right now you haven't got much basis for comparison so you don't really know what your 'type' is. Once we've got you in college, you'll meet lots of girls and, I hope, take as many opportunities as possible to make those comparisons. In fact, I can think of a couple of girls I'd like to introduce you to sooner rather than later." "Really?" "Really. Here comes our pilot." B hopped off Robbie's lap, noticing that the tent pole effect was now very obvious. Best not to mention it though: Robbie might get embarrassed. * * * * * "Robbie?" "Yes?" They'd just taken off but were still seat-belted down. B was holding Robbie's hand in her lap and thinking it wasn't going to be a long enough flight to be worthwhile getting naked for. "What do you fantasize about?" "Girls." "Robbie..." her tone carried enough admonishment to make him relent. "Ok. Recently, its mainly been Suzanna. I guess from now on it'll be you." "I hope so. And Robbie? Anything you fantasize about doing with me... let me know and we'll do it. But what did you fantasize about when you thought about Suzanna?" "Her voice, her fragrance, the occasional times her hair has blown against my face. Silly stuff." "It isn't silly if it turns you on. Hair can be very sensual. Does she have long hair?" "She can sit on it. I'm told its blonde but that doesn't mean a whole heck of a lot to a blind boy." "There's a blues song in there somewhere. And you're not a blind boy anymore. As of this morning, you're a blind man. That blind boy you used to be is now just another notch on my bedpost." "It takes more than getting laid to make someone a man. I know lots of guys at school who've lost their cherries but haven't shown much sign of growing up." He sounded a little bitter. Could it be that one of them was his competition for Suzanne's affections? "You misunderstand me, Robbie. You're not a man because you stuck your dick in me. You're a man because you realize that that one thing doesn't fundamentally change you. All I did was remove one little obstacle to you realizing your own potential. You told your mother you were going to leave home. Would you have dared to even think of doing it yesterday?" "No." "So? Something's changed, but it's not because you now know what the inside of a vagina feels like." "I guess you're right." "I am. I've made something of a speciality of virgins. I'll tell you all about it sometime, but for now, suffice to say I've seen this metamorphosis before. Now tell me more about Suzanne -- in your fantasies. You mentioned her voice. What's so special about it?" "Nothing... It's just her voice. I just used to imagine her whispering things in my ear." B leant close to his ear and whispered "Like this?" "Yes." "And what did she whisper?" "Just stuff." Robbie was evasive. "Sexy stuff?" "Yes." Robbie was blushing, which B just thought was cute. Still whispering, in her finest fuck-me voice, B said "I want you, Robbie. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me in my ass. Will you do that to me Robbie? Will you fuck my tight little asshole for me tonight?" Then, in her normal voice, "Stuff like that?" "Err... Yes." He was blushing furiously now. "And?" "And what?" "And will you? ... fuck my tight little asshole tonight?" "Err... If you want." "What I want is to actually be all your fantasies. So the question still stands. Will you?" "Yes." "Good. What else? Be honest. If you've ever jerked off thinking about something, I guarantee I'm up for it." "Well... You were very quiet this morning." Still he blushed. "And, of course, you'd prefer to hear how much fun I'm having. That makes sense. Actually, I was deliberately holding back this morning because your Mom was downstairs. Believe me: you aint heard nothing yet." Homecoming Queen "Is there anything you haven't done?" "Not that I can think of. There isn't actually much I haven't tried in front of a camera. Want to know why I'm so forward?" "I think everyone in Idaho wants to know that." "It's simple: Because nobody else is. I know I'm pretty -- beautiful even -- and because of that, guys too often think they've got no chance. Starting with that mindset, they quickly graduate to 'why bother?' I take the initiative because otherwise my best friend would run on batteries. I enjoy being an object of desire and I enjoy sharing this pretty body with the rest of the world." She lifted his hand to her breast. His fingers responded instinctively, cupping the soft mound. "And I really enjoy having the world's most famous pussy." "And all the people you've shocked? Hurt? Offended?" "I can't help the prejudices of others but I don't hurt anyone -- at least, not without their consent." "Your parents would disagree. Sorry B, I'm not judging you, I'm just playing devil's advocate here because there is going to be talk on Saturday night... and after, and I'm going to have to deal with it after you've gone back to your life." "I know, but my parent's could just accept that my life is my life, not theirs and that I live by my rules, not theirs. They're hurt because they wanted a clone of them and I can't help that. Your Mom will feel much the same the day you leave for college. She's spent all these years being indispensable and now she's going to have to accept that her little boy has grown up." "I guess so." Robbie went quiet for a while, but his hand still cupped B's breast and she knew he had a lot to think about today so she let him be. * * * * * Outside the airport, an immaculately shiny Ferrari was waiting. "David!" B relinquished Robbie's arm and hurled herself into the waiting embrace of the young man leaning on the car. After a far from perfunctory kiss, she said, "You didn't have to come and meet us. But it's sweet that you did." "I thought you might want your car back. Besides, I haven't seen nearly enough of you this year." "So? A little bird told me you've been seeing quite a lot of somebody else. I'm looking forward to meeting your new 'first lady', Mr President." B had known David Barrio -- in the biblical sense -- since he'd pledged to Phi Kappa Delta. Now he was Fraternity President and being groomed for a position in Eric's business empire after graduation. "You know you'll always be Phi Kappa Delta's First Lady... And mine." David still fondly remembered losing his innocence to B. "Oh! Where are my manners?" B remembered that she wasn't alone and turned to find Robbie standing exactly where she'd let go of his arm. "Robbie, I'm so sorry. I forgot." She fetched him over to meet David. "Robbie, this is David Barrio, President of Phi Kappa Delta. David, meet Robbie Pugh, first recipient of the B Kennedy scholarship. I'm hoping he'll choose Harvard. That's why we're here." She hugged Robbie to her, reached up for his cheek and used finger pressure to turn his chin just enough to be able to kiss him. If he was self conscious, kissing her in front of a stranger, B's enthusiasm more than made up for Robbie's hesitancy and he soon gave in, giving almost as good as he got. When B let him, he held out a hand in the general direction of David. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr President." "Just David. And it's good to meet you, Robbie. It's always interesting to meet B's new pals." He shook Robbie's hand firmly. "Oh, I'm not a new pal. B used to baby-sit for my Mom." "Really?" David's eyebrows rose and he cast an enquiring glance at B. "True." B confirmed. "We're old pals... but new lovers." "Are congratulations in order?" David was asking B if Robbie was another virgin for her trophy cabinet. "Oh yes." B smiled knowingly. "Then Mr Pugh," David took Robbie's hand again. "Congratulations and welcome to the club." "What club?" Robbie looked puzzled by this entire exchange. He still shook David's hand though. Manners maketh the man and, around B, all you could do was hold on tight and hope it all made sense when the world stopped spinning. "That elite and august body of men who've yielded their innocence to this sweet creature." "Oh... Thank you." Robbie was dazed. "We'll see you later, David." B steered the unresisting Robbie into the passenger seat. Its lowness caught him out and he landed harder than intended, but the seat caught him. "We'll pop by after dinner for a few games of pool." B moved around to the driver's side and got in, leaving David standing on the sidewalk as she drove off. "Later!" He called after her. "Robbie, I'm so sorry I left you standing there." B took the opportunity to apologize again. "I completely forgot I was being your guide dog." "You're forgiven." Robbie had to strain to hear her over the whine of the engine. It was a noisy car. "Well, I shouldn't be... it was naughty and naughty girls deserve to be spanked." B wondered if that was on Robbie's fantasy to-do list. She kind of hoped so. "Well you're still forgiven, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me later." Robbie was learning fast. "I'm sure." B had 'later' all planned out already and was going to rock Robbie's world. "What is this car?" "My graduation present from Eric." "It's very noisy." "It's very fast too, and oh-so beautiful." "Like you." "Thank you. That's sweet." "So what kind of car is it?" "Sorry. It's a Ferrari something-or-other, which is as much as I can tell you. I keep it here in Boston because it's no use in Manhattan and the Fraternity President has the use of it when I'm not in town because it helps raise the kudos of Phi Kappa Delta." "I see. Is there really a club for people you've slept with?" "Oh yes. Helen and I have bedded a couple of hundred fraternity members each, both current students and alumni. About forty of them were virgins." "And Harvard men tend to do well in the world." "All part of my ambition of having the world's most famous pussy... Being the former lover of Judges, Senators, Wall Street Moguls and maybe even a President." "And a blind boy from Idaho." "And lots of guys who aren't going to change the world, but you might not be one of them. You haven't decided what you want to do with your life yet but believe me, as of this morning, your options are almost limitless. Anything I can't afford, Eric can. If you wanted to be the first blind man in space, it can probably be arranged. All you have to decide is what you really want to do." "Why?" "Why?" "Why does it matter so much what I want to do?" "Because I have nothing better to do with my time and money and Eric earns more each week than he can reasonably spend so will welcome anything that provides an interesting use for the empire he inherited. But mainly, just because." "That's not a reason." "Isn't it? You asked why. Let me ask you, why not? With the right help you might change the world one day but, if you don't, at least you won't spend years wondering what if..." "That's a lot to get my head around on top of everything else today." "I know it is, so lets simplify things. The only decisions you have to make tonight are what you'd like for dinner and whether or not you like the taste of pussy." "Oh that's easy. Spaghetti. We always have pasta on Monday nights." "And...?" "Has anyone ever decided they don't like that?" "No." "Then there's your answer." Robbie was growing in confidence by the hour and B was pleased to see him taking the initiative, at least verbally. "Ok. Here we are." B pulled up outside the main entrance of the Marriott and hopped out of the car, handing the keys to a valet. "C'mon Robbie." She took his arm as he got out and led him inside. * * * * * "Eric keeps this suite permanently." B was guiding Robbie around the various rooms, making sure there was nothing too delicate that might ambush him when he was navigating solo. "If you pick Harvard-" "If Harvard will have me." Robbie was well aware that Harvard tended to like a little say in the matter too. "Oh, that won't be a problem. If you pick Harvard, this is probably your best option for accommodation. Hot and cold running chambermaids, twenty-four hour room service so you don't have to cook for yourself, a spare room when your Mom comes to visit and, best of all, I'll be here pretty regularly." "Will you take a few pictures of it to show Mom? It'll help put her mind at rest." Robbie handed B his mobile phone. "Sure. That's a great idea." B parked Robbie on the foot of one of the beds and took half a dozen pictures of the bedroom, the bathroom, the reception room and the private lobby and elevator. Just for mischief, she sent Robbie an image from her own phone and set it as his wallpaper. She wondered how long it'd be before someone asked Robbie about the picture: It was her favourite image of her pussy and the gallery's logo -- a black and white study of her labia, spread like petals and photo-shopped into the centre of an orchid. "Thanks." Robbie stood up and pocketed his phone as B returned. "Time to play dress-up." B rummaged through the wardrobe and selected a dinner suit for Robbie. "Try this on. What size collar do you take?" She tossed a suit onto the bed and proceeded to flick through the collection of shirts Eric kept here. "I don't know. Mom does the shopping." It sounded so lame. He was almost embarrassed to admit it. "Of course she does. Let me see." She left the wardrobe open and began unbuttoning Robbie's shirt. He let her. He also let her undo his jeans, which he promptly stepped out of. "15 inch: An inch smaller than Eric. No matter. I'll get you a new shirt tomorrow." She knelt in front of him and Robbie was half expecting his shorts to go south as swiftly as his jeans had but B surprised him by lifting his foot to slip one leg of the dress trousers on. The other foot got the same treatment then she stood up and let him fasten his new pants himself. "Too big." He had to hold them up. "That's why Mr Hawkes is coming at seven. Just let them sag. They won't actually fall down. Try the jacket." She held the tux behind him while he slipped his hands into the sleeves, then settled the garment onto his shoulders and moved to the front to fasten the single button. "A little taken in here and there and it'll be perfect." B was happy with her choice of suit so far. The phone by the bed rang. B sprawled across the bed to reach it. "Hello?... Yes... He's expected. Please send him right up... Thank you." Then to Robbie: "Mr Hawkes is on his way up." "I'll go and let him in... if I can remember where the door is." Picking up his white cane, Robbie turned and headed out of the bedroom, finding that doorway first time. B was impressed at the confidence with which he moved around such unfamiliar territory. "Mr Hawkes?" Robbie held open the door. "Indeed. Good evening, Sir." The elderly tailor moved past the young man into the reception room. "Its good to see you again, Mr Hawkes." B came out of the bedroom and gave the old man a hug. "The pleasure's all mine. Is this the suit you want altered?" He gently turned Robbie by the shoulders and appraised the fit of the jacket. "Yes, for Prom Night, next Saturday. Can you do it?" "Eh? Certainly. Certainly." He pinched seams and marked them with a triangle of tailor's chalk. Robert, well used to listening to the tone of people's voices, noticed a certain tension in Mr Hawkes'. "She's naked, isn't she?" He asked the tailor. "Indeed. In my experience its Miss Kennedy's default state of dress." "Well this time it must be for your benefit, Mr Hawkes. I can't see." "And Mr Hawkes won't look." B sounded sullen. "Miss Kennedy, I note that you've lost that vestigial tuft of pubic hair you were wearing when we last met. I do pay attention to these little details, but we only have limited time to get this suit right and you want Mr Pugh looking impeccable, yes?" "Point taken." B sounded happier now that the tailor had owned up to a sneaky peek. "As long as Robbie does look impeccable, you're forgiven." "Thank you. Take the jacket off please, Mr Pugh." "Robbie." Robbie hated being Mr Pugh. Mr Pugh was his rarely encountered father, who'd been unable to come to terms with 'the burden God had given him': Namely, having a blind son. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders. Mr Hawkes knelt to mark the trousers for alteration too. "Robbie. Is that your only cane?" Mr Hawkes asked. "Yes. Why?" "Only, if you can manage an evening without a collapsible cane, I have one in the shop that was ordered for an elderly client who unfortunately passed away quite suddenly. A sterling silver crooked handle and ferrule, much like many ordinary dress canes, but white. It might be more suitable to the occasion?" "I don't know. It sounds too-" Robbie was thinking 'expensive'. "Please send it over, Mr Hawkes." B cut in because she could see precisely what Robbie was thinking and she knew it didn't matter. Everything would be charged to Eric's account anyway and any guy who would commission Lalique glass dildos for his girlfriends would hardly notice the expense of a silver topped cane. Besides, B had been musing about getting Robbie into some of Eric's photographs and the cane would be a prop then, hence a legitimate expense. Perhaps something ironic involving a blind man and a pole dancer? She'd have to talk to Eric about it sometime. "All done." Mr Hawkes stood up slowly. "If you'd like to take off the pants, Robbie... Miss Kennedy?" He turned to face her, this time making a point of looking her up and down before settling on eye contact. It made the wanton smile and Mr Hawkes had to admit to himself that she was quite strikingly lovely. "How long are you staying in Boston?" "Only until tomorrow afternoon." "Ah. Not much time. This will need a second fitting." He hefted the jacket and pants over his arm. "Will Mr... Robbie have time tomorrow afternoon?" "We'll make time. I'll arrange an evening flight. Shall we come to you? After lunch?" "That would help a great deal. Thank you. Good Evening Robbie." Mr Hawkes walked towards the door, "Good Evening Mr Hawkes. And thanks for sparing me the time." Robbie was trying to find his jeans, unaware that B had moved them. "Always a pleasure, Miss Kennedy." Mr Hawkes nodded to B as she held the door for him. He was one of the few people she accepted 'Miss Kennedy' from. She enjoyed the formal courtesy of the elderly tailor. She would insist on him calling her B if she ever bedded him, but not until. "Until tomorrow." B flashed him a smile and closed the door. "Now then, Robbie... What are you doing?" "Trying to find my jeans." "They're in the bedroom." B crossed the reception room to the bedroom door. "And so am I." She sprawled on the bed and listened to the tap-tap of Robbie's cane as he navigated the room next door. "Where?" Robbie stopped just inside the room. "On the back of the chair in front of the dressing table, but you don't need them now. Come here." B had been very patient this afternoon, not molesting her new lover in the airport, during the flight or even since arriving at the hotel. Now she figured she was due a little R and R before dinner. Robbie found the corner of the bed and B's outstretched toes found his crotch, massaging his cock through his shorts. He dropped his cane and reached for her ankle, following her calf then thigh with his hands as he crawled onto the bed beside her. His fingers quickly found her labia and went to work, making B moan with lust. He could feel his underwear getting tighter by the moment. "Lick me." B pleaded. Robbie altered position to get his head between her legs and followed his nose as the musky scent of her arousal guided him directly to his goal. As he flicked his tongue against her engorged labia for the first time, B grabbed two handfuls of his hair and pressed his face firmly to her pussy. Robbie took the hint and buried his tongue as deeply as he could in the warm, soft flesh. It tasted wonderful. Better than he'd expected. Better than anything else he'd tasted. Sweet and slightly spicy like Christmas cookies. "Mmm." B seemed pleased with his enthusiasm and relaxed her grip on his hair so he could breathe again. "Don't ignore my clit." Robbie, obedient to her desires, moved his attention upwards. It didn't take much finding and he licked at her clit with enthusiastic zeal until B instructed him otherwise. "Gently, Robbie. Less is more." Robbie eased up, tickling the sensitive nub with the lightest touch of the tip of his tongue. "That's it!" B sighed. Robbie certainly had aptitude. After a couple of minutes of that, with B on the verge of climax, Robbie abandoned her clit to roam south again and plunge his tongue into the depths of her vagina. That felt wonderful too but she still felt cheated of her orgasm until, following the rivulet of juice trickling from her, Robbie's tongue crossed her perineum. Instinctively, B hitched her knees up high over her tits to make her ass more accessible. Her effort wasn't wasted and Robbie followed the trail of her juices all the way to her anus, tickling that tiny declivity just as he had done so well to her clit. "Oh yes." B offered encouragement. She loved being rimmed, just as she loved rimming others. It was quite possibly the most intimate caress she knew. It was also wonderfully pervy and B was all about that. Clearly, Robbie wasn't opposed to the idea either. He must know that he'd strayed from the usual hallowed ground but he continued to tease and probe her bottom for nearly a minute before moving back up to her clit and, this time, letting B have her long awaited climax. "Oh my god! Yes.... Yes... Oh god... That's good!" B didn't hold back: Robbie's mother was well out of earshot this time. She grabbed his head again and made sure he didn't stop until she was completely exhausted. When she did let go, Robbie moved up her body, resting some but not all his weight on her and kissing her belly, breasts and neck on his way to her mouth. "Thank you, Darling. That was wonderful." B gave him a rave revue for his debut performance of cunnilingus. "Really?" Robbie had heard about girl's faking orgasms. "Really. You're a prodigy. I've got to introduce you to Helen sometime soon." B nuzzled his neck and felt very mellow towards her new pet. "Don't tease." "I'm not teasing. I share everything with Helen and your golden tongue is definitely worth sharing." "So you didn't mind when I..." "Licked my ass? Hell no! I loved it. Most guys need an invitation and you're certainly the first first-timer to do that, but you can do it anytime. That goes for Helen too. We're both really into anal games. Oh, Robbie, I wish you could see the pictures that Eric's taken of me. You'd know just how much of a slut I am." "Well I can't, and I don't like to think of you as a slut. That's one of the words people back home use when they talk about you." "Robbie... Darling... it's sweet of you to defend me but I really am a slut: A very happy slut. I love sex in all its kinky variety and I love showing the world the things I get up to." "It's still not a nice word." "'Nigger' was never as nice word for black people, but they've taken it back and clipped its claws so now it can't hurt them because the only people allowed to call them that are other black people and then it's used as a term of fraternity. The gay community took back the word 'queer' in much the same way. It doesn't hurt if it's your own term for yourself. So I'm a happy slut and, occasionally, a whore. Nice girls don't do the things I do and definitely don't do them in front of a camera."