The Broads Ch. 01

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A lesbian escort and porn actress find trouble.
1.6k words
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29.9k
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I was going down on her as I planned our means of escape. The idea was so incredibly simple that I paused for a moment. Jay the "director" asked me what I was doing. "Nothing," I said, and then proceeded to give Amber the best head of her life. She had a real orgasm that afternoon, her first in months, and she didn't seem to mind that Jay was there to witness it with his new digital camera, the one he talked incessantly about during our lunch break. (Take-out from Zankou Chicken re-heated in the microwave). Jay let us shower in the rented house, one of the ugliest I'd ever seen in the Valley and I made her cum again with my fingers. Then we soaped each other up and kissed and washed each other off. We were in love, and the fact that we'd spend the better part of five hours (with breaks) having sex in front of a stranger for $4,000 each didn't matter a bit.

Then we dressed and returned to the living room. Jay was on the floor, his nose and mouth covered with cocaine powder and blood. Amber screamed. I went over to his body and pulled up a sleeve of his Kings jersey and felt for a pulse. He was dead. I was disappointed. My escape plan was like something out of a movie. It involved Amber and I getting fake driver's licenses and Social Security numbers (I had "friends" who could take care of it. In our business you make a lot of them), and leaving Los Angeles in the middle of the night on a Greyhound bus. We would disappear, with our cash withdrawn from our bank, our credit cards cut in half and thrown into an In-and-Out Burger trash can. We'd drive up North, perhaps, to Vancouver, where we could strip for a while and plot our next move. We weren't under contract to any porn company. Not yet, anyway, so I thought it might take a few weeks before someone caught on. Then we might flee to Florida, maybe, and start a new life.

But now if we did flee, we'd be suspects. At least we'd be in trouble for leaving the scene of... what exactly? An overdose? I examined his face while Amber ran to the bathroom to throw up. He'd broken some teeth, probably from hitting his face on the glass coffee table as he fell. I called the police on his cell phone and waited in the kitchen, where I made Amber and me some Red Zinger tea.

I really looked like shit that day, but you couldn't tell that from the stares the police gave us as they entered the house. To them, we were oozing sex, even in our baggy sweats, ponytails and tennis shoes. The hot pink silicone double dildo and the stainless steel vibrator lying on the coffee table next to the blood, the cocaine and the video camera, told the cops all they needed to know. The bloody corpse draped in an oversized hockey jersey didn't seem to bother anyone, except for Amber, who buried her face in the chest of one of the cops, who looked like a pyschotic blonde surfer -- think William Zabka in The Karate Kid, or Back to School or Just One of the Guys. He was gentle with her, though, and somehow, the sordid little scene looked more like the end of an episode of Happy Days. Things like this didn't always happen to me. Most shoots went smoothly, and were about as sexy as a tupperware party, or the reading of a will.

So we had to go downtown and answer some questions. Then they let us go and I took Amber out for Sushi and then went home and watched Mad Men and cuddled. She was inconsolable for a while that night but I was able to calm her down. Teenagers take things hard. Amber was nineteen, but emotionally she was much younger. I never thought I'd get into a relationship like this again but I just couldn't help myself. Tall skinny redheads turn me on, and I guess I get off on the drama. Kissing her, holding her tight while she cried in bed for this guy we barely knew, who almost got us into serious trouble, I couldn't get enough. We didn't make love that night, in honor of Jay, I suppose, but sometimes I'd rather cuddle.

The next morning, Amber had a shoot in the valley and normally I'd drive her there, but I was too tired and had to rest up for an appointment I had with a power lesbian in Hollywood, a very busy woman who still had time to pay me to come to her office on the top floor of a very tall building and massage her and get her off. I'm not a licensed masseuse, but I've taken some classes and read some books and that really didn't matter anyway, since all she really wanted was the orgasms that she claimed that only I alone (And "Big Red", her vibrator) was able to provide. So Johnny, Amber's "best friend" dove all the way from Silver Lake to pick her drive and drive her there. She was in good hands, I guess. Johnny was a pot dealer and a "web designer" who had been working with Amber on her website and Myspace page. He was harmless, and he knew that if he tried anything I would break his arms, or get someone to do it for me.

With Amber gone I relaxed, watched some television, did Pilates and then took off. Joy was waiting for me in the reception room. I had dressed the part – ponytail, tight white polo shirt, track pants, tennis shoes – I looked positively demure, and Joy's new receptionist, a cute petite Latina, was young enough to be completely oblivious. Joy put on a show as well, dressed in her usual work clothes, a man's Oxford shirt, jeans, and flip-flops and we greeted each other formally, as if I was a professional masseuse here to work on a client. Of course all that changed once we were inside. Joy had soundproofed the walls and door, so as to muffle the cries she made while I went down on her.

"How are you?" she asked. "You look a little tired."

"More drama," I said. "This guy who was filming us dropped dead yesterday."

"Us?"

"Amber and I."

She led me to the couch and handed me a glass of champagne.

"I guess that means no massage this time"

"I have a two o'clock I can't miss, and I can't be off my game today. So how about an hour of hot fucking? Is that okay with you?"

"You're the boss."

She sat down next to me and we kissed.

"Now tell me all about this thing that happened."

I pocketed the $500 she had left on the coffee table and gave her a rundown of the previous day's events. She was sympathetic, but of course she had to lecture me about the dangers of this business I had found myself in. And the fact that Amber had approached Amber first made it seem even more reckless. I explained that everything had been on the up and up. The guy had good references and he seemed really nice. The house was clean and had a pool. He provided us with a nice meal.

"I just get worried about you, okay," she said. "You have to be more careful."

"I am careful."

"I know. But I worry. How old are you now, 32"

"31."

"You're still a baby."

We kissed again.

I sipped my champagne and kicked off my tennis shoes.

"I have a job for you," She said. "I'm hosting one of my parties in a couple of weeks. Barbara will be there. She asked for you."

"I'll bet. I fucked the shit out of her in your bed the last time."

"Well she requested you."

"Is she still married?"

"Yes, but they're having problems. And it would do her good to have a tall drink of water like yourself give her what she's missing at home." "

"She is very beautiful."

"You don't know what a turn on it is, seeing two big beautiful blondes making it in my bed."

"Uh huh."

"Remember to bring that strap-on though."

"I'll bring my whole kit."

"I'll double your weekend rate. I'll be requiring your services as well."

All this sex talk was making my pussy wet. The money talk as well. I had bills to pay. She touched my knee and we kissed again. This time more passionately. She was a soft butch. Tall. Short black hair. Italian. About 40 years old. She had a great hard body, and I found her very sexy. And she was insatiable once we got started. I opened her shirt and she was braless of course, and I licked her tits, and sucked her nipples. She pulled my shirt off and did the same. With some women you really have to make them follow your lead, especially a client. I'd slept with many women for money and at first they're really nervous. You have to make them feel like they're special. I did think Joy was special so we had great sexual chemistry. Soon our clothes were off and we were on the massage table in a 69, kissing and licking each other's pussies until we came. Then we kissed and held each other and I was on my way.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
Don't Listen to These People

Hunterwren, I've been reading your erotica for years. You have a great prose style, with a sharp eye for detail. Don't stop writing. In fact, you should try writing something outside of erotica (not that there's anything wrong with erotica). I rarely come back to this site, but when I do I always look to see if you've posted anything new. I'd go so far as to say you're the only reason to visit this site. I particularly love that your characters are self-aware and intelligent, but also sexual and unapologetic about their needs. Oh, and you're very good at describing women's bodies, their taste and the heat of their skin when they're truly aroused. It saddens me that we'll never meet, or fuck, but then frustrated desire can be a pleasure in its own right, as I'm sure you already know.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago

I'm not sure the mechanical is all bad. because it's first person, it sounds like "mechanical" is just the way the speaker thinks--however, because you don't yet have a major plot, with no climax, the mechanical feel is all that the reader feels, and that's never what you want with fiction writing. If you're going to write like this, you have to put a lot of effort into making the plot good, or you're just gonna lose readers. and if you're not writing to get readers, then why are you posting on the internet?

anyway, I'm not gonna say this was "great" or anything, but I think it has potential.

TrinityBlaineTrinityBlaineabout 12 years ago
Needs some work. . .

You have something here but I agree with the above comments, it's very mechanical.

You have some nice characters but personality wise, they are pretty boring.

I too am confused about the editors choice. This needs work.

estragonestragonabout 12 years ago
"E" = Editor's Choice

And while the editor may have liked it, I didn't. The characters are too mechanical, and the mechanicals show carelessness.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
What does the "E" mean?

?

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