Chapter 4: Meeting Stella

Chapter 4: Meeting Stella

I told you I was kinky. Also evil. I could have turned Cyndy onto “normal” sex with boys and she would have been happy. But I turned her into a lesbian by showing her the contrast between male-sex and woman-sex. As expected, she found the latter much more enjoyable. And less messy. Of course, you might point out that I had rigged the scene so she could hardly come to any other conclusion. But all’s fair in love and war.

After our second session, I untied her and showed her how to clean herself to assure the male seed was out of her. While doing that, I also took the opportunity to point out that lesbian sex does not have the “danger” of getting pregnant, something her mother would certainly disapprove of. By the time I drove her home, she was convinced that sex with a man just was not worth it. And she was eager to learn more about girl-girl sex. Since I was willing to teach her, it worked out perfectly.

Of course, I also had plans to teach her how to please another woman (namely me!) and do all I could to make her as kinky as I am. I knew I had struck pay dirt when she began to explain how the helpless feeling of being tied down and gagged had made the whole scene more exciting. I don’t think she could see me grinning in the dark car, but I was already planning to teach her a lot more about the kinky side of life. A lot more.

I eventually got her down to my level: a kinky, sex-hungry slut. But that’s another story.

Back to my greatest challenge, but first, a little bit of background about myself. I am twenty-six years old, although I have been blessed by looking much younger than I really am. One of the only things I have to thank my mother for. She was not bad looking herself, and had good figure too. Too bad she made a lousy mother. And that wonderful father of mine might have contributed some to my good looks and figure. About the only other thing he contributed was enough money so I could live comfortably without having to seek employment (ugh!). Oh, and I should thank mom for not blowing the inheritance so that most of it came down to me. She tried, heaven knows, to go through the money as fast as she could, buying booze. But that didn’t really make a dent in the money and kept her happy most of the time.

Enough of ancient history. On to Stella.

Stella was a famous person. She had the starring role in a movie at the tender age of seventeen, obtained by her incredible good looks, drop-dead body, and a willingness to go to bed with the producer. Thus she became the latest Hollywood starlet with her photo on all the magazine covers and a series of movies that exhibited her talents. I’m talking about the physical ones. It must have been a clause in her contract requiring that she appear naked at least three times in each movie. Actually, to be fair, she could act fairly well. Nothing too dramatic, but good enough to keep her from being a flash-in-the-pan success only.

I met her at a party. There was this actor, you see, who was desperate to get me into his bed and willing to take me along to all kinds of Hollywood parties. He never did get me into bed, and never could, but at least he was seen with a gorgeous babe on his arm, so he did get something out of the arrangement. I went along with it because there were plenty of other good looking dames at those parties. Enough so that I labeled them the “Happy Hunting Grounds,” with apologies to the Native Americans we stole this land from.

Stella came with a director or producer or something like that. An older man who I hoped was not getting her into bed with him because it would be such a waste. I had seen her photos and on the TV, which I rarely watch because it presents a distorted view of real life. But when I was standing in the same room with her, I realized she was really much more than came across on the TV. She had what they call in Hollywood, “presence.” Meaning there was something about her that made her stand out. A magnetism, a charisma that made you know she was something special. And she projected it without seeming to try. It was just her nature.

I would like to think I have some of that “presence” myself. At least, other women are attracted to me like magic.

I knew from the first moment I saw her that I wanted her. Of course, so did all the men in the room, and probably a few of the women, but I wanted her so badly that my teeth ached. The pink evening gown she was nearly bursting out of was so tight that I wondered how she could sit down. Which I wanted to see because that dress was so short that her sitting would undoubtedly grant all a wonder view of the Promised Land.

I worked my way over towards her, trying not to be too obvious, and stood for a while close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation. Oddly enough, she was telling her escort that she really hated these parties. He, in turn, told her that she had to attend them if she wanted to continue to be in the public spotlight. From her glare, I got the feeling she didn’t really care much about that.

Another actor came up then and tried to separate her from the older man. He was the typical Hollywood leading actor type: handsome, trim and fit, and totally assured that he was God’s gift to women. Stella was polite but cool to him. Hell, I would have told him to take a long walk on a short pier. Or something more graphic.

Eventually he tired of trying to engage her in a conversation about his latest film and wandered away seeking another target. He glanced my way, but I sent him an icy glare that clearly told him I was not interested.

I hung around for a bit, but the older man never left her alone even though she didn’t seem to care much for his company. He had been drinking champagne and, finally, made an excuse and left, probably heading for the restroom. That was when I moved in.

“You were too polite to that bum,” I told her.

“Which bum?” she replied calmly.

“The blonde actor. He’s a creep.”

“Agreed.” She smiled, and I felt my heart flutter. Damn, she was perfect!

“The older guy I figure is a producer or something and you have to be nice to him,” I added.

She looked me over and I felt a shiver race down my spine. She was undressing me with her eyes, something that I usually got from men. She said, “He is an executive of the company producing my next film. I have to be nice to him.”

“How nice?” I asked. Immediately I wished I hadn’t.

The smile dropped from her lovely face. “I don’t have to sleep with him,” she said in an icy tone.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply...”

She cut me off with a laugh and, “That’s all right. It’s a standard way to get into films.”

I smiled at her and she smiled back. Two girls sharing a negative thought about this male-dominated world.

I was desperately trying to come up with something witty and cute to say that would lead us into a closer relationship, when she sighed and looked around. “You feel like getting out of here?” she asked.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I know a place not far from here where they don’t care if you’re famous or rich. A nice, quiet place where I can get something better than this cheap champagne.”

“Lead on,” I told her and put my champagne glass on a table.