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Rising Star - 4

Tags: lesbian, butch

Another escapade for the rising star

Lilly and I were sitting on the floor, resting against each other’s back.

 

“How was Bertie?” I asked.

 

“Fucking useless. Came in his pants poor love. I hardly touched him.” Knowing Lilly as I did that was probably enough to make anyone cum. “How was Ros?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t know?”

 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I had it all, nearly.

 

I was almost famous, fairly wealthy, more work was being offered and by most standards, I was now a successful actress. I’d done a film in which I had played a rather sinister Russian spy called Anastasia Lenkov and that had been very well received. But, and there’s always a but, I was still miserably single. I’d come home to England, leaving the madhouse that is Hollywood for a while to recharge my batteries and, I hoped, get a bit of stage work.

 

Felicity, Flick Caterham, my agent, had sent her right-hand girl Hattie out to run her American agency and it was doing really well. Hattie had been replaced by another of Flick’s beauties, a woman of about thirty. A product, like me, of a private school but, like Hattie, Phoebe was tall, svelte, elegant and absolutely gorgeous. Flick only employed classy beauties on the basis that the industry was run mainly by males and her ‘girls’ helped keep clients loyal.

 

“The trouble with stage work,” said Flick one day over a glass of champagne in her office, “is that it keeps you from doing other stuff for too long and doesn’t pay nearly as well. Films are far better. You can make more money, keep making money and it keeps your profile up.”
 

“Maggie Smith and Judi Dench do both.”

 

“Yes, darling, they do but then they are A-list plus.” Meaning I wasn’t which, of course, was true. “Now, that said, I might just have a little tickle that could appeal. Chesty Morgan,” Chesty was a director of stage and television and known as Chesty because she had a large rack like the porn star after whom she’d been named. “She’s doing a tv series for the Beeb and there’s a part in I think you’ll like. For some reason she likes you and she came to me.”
 

“What’s the part?”

 

“The role is a barrister, works criminal cases, high profile and does a lot of prosecution work, mainly murders and serious crimes.”
 

“That’s a change.”

 

Flick pressed a button and spoke on her intercom. “Phoebe, get that delicious arse in here. Another bottle of bubbles, a glass for yourself and the outline of Chesty’s tv series.” Flick had no idea what ‘please’ meant.

 

“How’s Hattie getting on?”

 

“Wonderfully well. She spends most of her time schmoozing at my expense but it pays dividends. It seems American men cannot resist her.” Nor, I thought, could I. Enter Phoebe, stage right and presented the series outline to me then opened the new bottle as I read it.

 

“So, this barrister is a serial killer.”

 

“Right up your alley, I’d have said, wouldn’t you, Pheebs?” Phoebe dutifully nodded, the cork popped and her delicious chest wobbled enticingly.

 

“I was a bloody assassin in the film.”

 

“And very good you were too, everyone says so.”

 

“Am I destined to be a murderer for the rest of my career?”

 

“Look, this is big budget, class and it’s already funded by the BBC and a Yankee consortium. It’ll sell all over the world and you’ll cop a wonderful fee, plus repeats, and so shall I! And, don’t forget, you get to wear the lawyer’s robes and wig. You’ll be a global gay icon.” I snorted derisively but Flick was on her way and nothing would divert her. “This is a fucking brilliant part for you and if you don’t take it you’re a bigger tit than Chesty’s left one.”

 

The truth was that I’d worked with Chesty before and liked her, trusted her so, needless to say, I said yes.

 

I spent a few nights in my apartment in London then went down to my house in the country. It was quite large and I had a permanent staff of housekeeper and gardener/driver. The former was a woman called Mrs Glenn, about fifty-five, motherly and efficient, the latter an ex-Royal Marine known as Chalky White, still hard and fit. He too was about mid-fifties and like an uncle to me.

 

The house was in good shape but somehow empty. I called Flick’s sister, Lilly, my best mate ever and she immediately invited me to a party. Lilly was a determined party-er, she had an insatiable appetite for men; married, single, gay, straight; as long as they had money, a functioning penis and looked moderately decent, Lilly was up for it.

 

“Oh, darling, it’s so good you’re back. I want you to come to my summer selection party. I’m between men and I need to choose someone new so I am throwing a bash and inviting hundreds. Women too, so you can have a gander and see if there’s anything takes your fancy. One, in particular, I just know you’ll love.” Lilly made matches like other women make cakes. “She’s not an exotic I’m afraid, rather horsey and county in fact, but she is gorgeous, as bent as a dough hook and recently lost her last mount.”

 

“Lost how, Flick, did she leave her on a bus?”

 

“Hush. To a rich Australian woman. They went down under for a few months and it seems her bird fell for a lady sheep farmer or some such and cut loose. Rosalind was heartbroken for about three hours but you know these horsey types, get back on as soon as you can!”

 

I couldn’t help laughing. “Rosalind? My God. You are a wonder, do you ever stop trying to set me up?”

 

“My mission will be complete when you are in the rose-festooned cottage with the woman of your dreams. Anyway, glam up, darling, it’s evening frocks and you’ll be such a welcome addition. A bit of showbiz talent always raises the tone.”

 

As I dressed for Lilly’s party I thought back over previous occasions. Lilly had introduced me to the lovely Indian doctor at a party a long time ago when she, Lily that is, had been celebrating a wonderfully lucrative divorce from her first husband. She, the doctor, had very nearly been the one. Life, I thought, can be a cow.

 

I ‘glammed up’ as Lilly had said; long, red evening dress that barely covered my tits, not that they were likely to fight their way out of it; regulation underpinnings and a pair of heels that made me about five-foot-eight-inches, adding three inches to me. My hair had been cut short for the Lenkov role and I’d liked it so kept it. I checked myself in the mirror. Best I can do, I decided and went downstairs where Mrs Glenn stood with Chalky waiting for me.

 

“Oh, Miss, but you look wonderful, doesn’t she Chalky.”

 

“She surely does, Mrs G.” Chalky had donned his Marine uniform for his role as chauffeur and bodyguard. I strongly suspected Mrs Glenn (I never called her anything else) held a bit of a candle for Chalky.

 

“Right, come on then. Once more into the breach and all that. Lilly Caterham’s parties are not for the faint-hearted!”

 

Chalky opened the car door outside Lilly’s impressive porch and I swung my legs out and made my way up the three steps to the huge oak door. It opened as if by magic. There stood Lilly. She looked, as always, fabulous. Like her sister, Lilly is a force of nature and she took my arm and began her usual barrage of words.

 

“Rosalind can’t wait to meet you. You’re my guest of dishonour, darling, and don’t forget it. My guests are all desperate to meet my famous best friend and they will fawn and grovel at your feet. Nice shoes by the way. Bertie Foreman is my main target tonight, he runs a hedge fund, whatever that is, and is stinking rich. I’ve got a couple of backups in case he turns out to be impotent. What is a hedge fund? Larry Porter is here, remember him? He sold you dope in that pub near the school and has taken holy orders. He’s a fucking bishop now. Let’s hope fucking is still on the agenda.”

 

And so on. She gabbled all the way into the main room where her revellers were gathered. Nobody noticed us, so engrossed were they in each other. Lilly grabbed me a glass of champagne then pointed to a man across the room.

 

“Bertie. Isn’t he simply gorgeous?”

 

“Go and ruin the poor bastard, Lill. I’ll find my own way from here.”

 

“That,” she said, pointing to a tall woman of about forty-five, brown hair, slender and wearing a calf-length dress of silver and blue that did nothing to conceal a great figure with splendid breasts, “is Rosalind. She’s right up your street, darling. Go and impress.” With that, she was off, waving her hand distractedly over her shoulder at me as her arse wiggled seductively towards her target.

 

I stood, almost relieved that she’d gone, she can be so tiring, bless her. I took in the room and recognised a few people including Larry Porter, the former drug supplier and apparently now a bishop. He was wearing a dog collar and a black evening suit.

 

“Hi, Larry, remember me?”

 

“Fucking hell, Faye Millerton! How marvellous.”

 

I smiled. “Not terribly episcopal language, Larry.”

 

“I’m off duty. You look fantastic.”

 

“Still flogging dope?”
 

“Christ, no. I’ve gone straight. Whereas, according to Lilly, you haven’t?”

 

“Hardly. Are you married?”

 

“Nope. I decided to keep myself single. You’d be astonished how many women like a bloke in the old clerical garb. Some of them are under ninety too, which is a bonus.”

 

“Not tried the laying on of hands with Lilly?”

 

“Way out of my class, Faye. Anyway, Bishops don’t make enough money for her needs. I rather think Bertie Foreman is the rabbit currently caught in her headlights, don’t you?”

 

It certainly looked that way.

 

Larry suddenly smiled over my shoulder. “Lady Connors, Rosalind. Do you know Faye Millerton?”

 

Rosalind extended her hand to me. “We haven’t met but I loved your latest film, I’m a big fan.”

 

“Thank you so much. I love your dress.”

 

“What, this old thing?” She laughed. “Do people actually say that anymore? I love it and it cost me a fortune. Not my thing really, a bit girly for me but I decided I’d be a lady tonight.”

 

“You’re always a lady,” said Larry.

 

“I may be a lady with a capital L, Larry, but I’m not always a lady.” She looked into my eyes. “If you get my meaning?”

 

“Oh, I think so.” I wondered if Lilly had told her I’d had a few flings with butch girls.

 

“Let’s get a drink?”

 

I followed her, watching her arse move under the slinky dress. She stopped by a table laden with drink and food and handed me a glass. “You, I am told, are single.”

 

“Lilly said you are too.”

 

“I am. My last girl was wonderful but she decided to leave me for an Australian woman who had an apartment overlooking Bondi.”
 

“Lilly said she was a sheep farmer.”

 

“Lilly makes assumptions. Why are you single?”

 

“Oh, work I suppose. I think people want more stability than my life allows.”

 

“I always imagined Hollywood would be full of all the temptations.”

 

“It is. But it isn’t just temptation we want is it?”

 

“Sometimes but, no, I agree, not always. Let’s chat a bit later, I know Lilly wants to let her friends get a good look at you. I’d like a good look at you too.” Her eyes were smiling. “If you decide to look for me, Lilly’ll tell you where I am.” And with that enigmatic statement, she wandered off.

 

Lilly’s friends were lovely. I enjoyed being an attraction and any star who tells you they don’t is either lying or a mental case. People make you feel good and actors are riddled with self-doubt and angst, so a little adulation does wonders for the ego. As the evening moved into night, the music got louder, people began dancing and a lot of drink had been taken.

 

It was about midnight. Lilly was suddenly at my side. She whispered in my ear. “Go upstairs, third room on the right. Rosalind thought you might need a break.”

 

If I had expected to find Rosalind spread on a chaise longue waiting for me I’d have been mistaken. It seemed she’d decided that some of the more mature people needed a break from the music and dancing and she’d set up store in the upstairs room with about twenty others. When I walked in, she stood and approached me, taking my hand and leading me to a sofa where we sat.

 

“I don’t know about you but the noise was beginning to get to me. I love seeing young people having fun but there is such a thing as too much, no?” I agreed. She introduced me to the group, men and women. “This is our gay group, Faye. You must get a lot of unwelcome attention.”

 

“Most attention is welcome to an actress.”

 

She smiled. “I meant attention from men.”

 

“I can cope. I’m sure, like me, you’ve had your share too. I find being a lesbian does, however, have a certain attraction for some men.”

 

“It does indeed. However, the gentlemen here will be interested only in your conversation, rather than any attempt to seduce you. The ladies, on the other hand….” She let that hang.

 

I spoke to several people. Most were charming and complimentary, some had no idea who I was, which was refreshing in its own way. One, a woman of about forty, slim, my height and wearing a fabulously low cut dress revealing very fine breasts, was less fulsome in her praise. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, set off by short, very black hair.

 

“Does it worry actresses like you that you pander to male stereotypes?”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Your character, the Russian. Stockings and heels all the time, leather skirts and black silk.” She almost spat the words. “Simply designed to feed male fantasies.”

 

“Surely some women’s too?”

 

“Not mine.”

 

“I doubt if you were in the director’s mind when he planned it, to be honest.”

 

Rosalind intervened. “Ladies, please. I’m quite sure, Saskia, that Faye’s artistic credentials are well established. The film was amusement and I loved it. I thought, Faye, that you looked fabulous throughout.”

 

“Saskia seems unimpressed but that’s her right. Can't please all the people all the time. Just wait until you see the next one!” I laughed but despite their entreaties, I couldn’t tell them anything, lips sealed by contract.

 

I went in search of the toilet and, as I was washing my hands, Saskia came in. She shut the door firmly behind her, then locked it. Her eyes had something about them as she advanced on me and, without a word, she kissed me. Her tongue pushed between my lips and seemed to search for something in my mouth and her hands roamed over my tits. I broke away.

 

“We haven’t been introduced.”

 

“No, we haven’t. I’ve never fucked a film star.”

 

“Nor have I.”

 

“Have you ever fucked a physicist?”

 

“No.”

 

“First time for everything then. Here or shall we find a bed?”

 

“What makes you think I want to?”
 

She moved in close and kissed me again while her hand wandered over a nipple that betrayed me, so hard was it.

 

“That makes me think you do.”

 

“Let’s find a bed then.”

 

Saskia did a nasty grin that I found oddly arousing, as if she had a cruel side that might suggest a bit of an exciting time. “Rosalind will be disappointed.”
 

“Is that why you want to?”

 

“Partly.”

 

She led me down the hallway and into a bedroom.

 

“This is mine for the night,” she said as she closed the door.

 

Her arm went behind my neck and she pulled me to her, kissing me hard. She was predatory, urgent and thrust her hips against me. It took her seconds to peel my dress off and with a groan of lust she pushed me onto the bed and hastily removing her own clothes almost dived on top of me, pushing her thigh between mine, her mouth tight on mine, her hands all over me. I contented myself, for the time being, with opening my legs and stroking her back, enjoying her assault. She ground herself against me, almost using me for masturbation.

 

Time, I thought, to fight back. She’d got me really aroused and her body was to die for. I’ve never minded a casual fuck and she was clearly in the right frame of mind. I rolled and we lay face to face on our sides. My hand went between her legs.

 

“I want to watch you cum.”

 

“I want to cum on your face.”
 

I smiled. “I hope you will, next time.” My finger pushed easily into her. I stroked deep inside her, our mouths touching and she lifted her knee to make it easier for me. Her clit felt hard under my thumb. She was panting a little, her hands running over my arms and breasts.

 

“I ought to have known.” We were both startled by the voice and looked up to see Rosalind standing beside the bed. She was naked apart from a leather harness from which a slender blue dildo protruded. “I turn my back and find Saskia has dragged you away.” She had a wicked smile.

 

Saskia pulled away from me and rolled onto her back. “You going to fuck us both, darling?” She spread her legs lasciviously.

 

Rosalind looked at me. “Am I?”

 

Something inside me, I don’t know what made me suddenly lose all arousal. There was a predatory look in Rosalind’s eyes. I had, in my mind’s eye, an image of the beautiful American butch I’d met in Berlin and with whom I had been caught on camera by a paparazzo and I was scared, irrationally perhaps, that this might be another sting. Call it paranoia.

 

I got up, dressed and said, “Sorry, ladies. Carry on without me.”

 

I went downstairs and found Lilly – she was drunk but Lilly, when drunk, was the same as Lilly sober.

 

“Did we get fucked, darling?”

 

“Nearly.”

 

She took my arm and led me to corner where we sat apart from all the remaining revellers and resting back to back we talked.

 

“How was Bertie?”

 

“Fucking useless. Came in his pants poor love. I hardly touched him.” Knowing Lilly as I did that was probably enough to make anyone cum. “How was Ros?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t know?”

 

“I left her and Saskia to it. I wasn’t sure if I was being set up.”

 

“In my house? Ridiculous. Oh,” She suddenly turned and I nearly fell backwards. “You haven’t gone all sensible have you?”

 

“Lilly, I just thought, suppose they were setting me up?”

 

“Christ, you have. Flick would never believe it.”

 

“I can't either.

 

At that moment, Rosalind appeared in the doorway and leant against the frame. She was once more fully dressed in that gorgeous dress.

 

“I think I owe you an apology, Faye,” she said with a smile. “I interrupted what could have been a very pleasant interlude for you. I think I was a little hungry and my manners failed me. I assure you there was no intention of ‘setting you up’ as you put it.”

 

“I’m sorry, Rosalind. One tends to get a little paranoid.”

 

She reached down and offered me her hand. I took it and she helped me to stand. “Let me take you home.”

 

“I have a car.”

 

“Not your home, silly, mine.”

 

In the event, we went to her house in my car and I asked Chalky to come back for me when I called in the morning. We had brandy in her small, low-beamed sitting room but I didn’t finish mine. Rosalind was definitely hungry.

 

“I think I need to be a little more me if you don’t mind?” She left me, returning a few moments later wearing a pair of black silk man’s pyjamas and the same blue dildo poking out the fly. “Sometimes I do the feminine thing but I really do find myself far more comfortable with a little androgyny.” She looked fantastic, her hair shone and her eyes were bright, her nipples showed hard and long through the silk.

 

She sat me on the arm of a hard, black leather sofa and, watching my eyes the whole time, she pulled my dress down to expose my tits. She proceeded to fondle, lick, suck and bite them and I couldn’t prevent my hands going to her hair and stroking my nails through it as she aroused me more and more.

 

She stopped, then started to lift my dress up.

 

“I’m going to fuck you, Faye. For the record, I didn’t fuck Saskia. I’ve never liked the bitch.” She smiled. “I simply wanted to make sure she didn’t get to fuck you. Was that terribly mean?”
 

“Terribly.”

 

She pulled my knickers down with one sharp pull and I hefted my arse up to assist, mainly so she’d know I wasn’t going to stop her.

 

She shuffled between my spread thighs and took my face in her hands. “Let’s be traditional our first time, darling. Pussy, I think, don’t you?”

 

With that, she carefully positioned her dildo at the entrance to my cunt and, kissing me deeply, eased her pelvis forward so the silicone entered me slowly, beautifully. A little murmur escaped her lips. “So ready for me.”

 

She was not wrong. She rocked between my thighs, her mouth exploring mine but also my neck and breasts then she lifted me so my arse was against the back of the sofa and, knees slightly bent, continued to fuck me.

 

“God, I do love a knee trembler.” Her voice was husky now and I undid the buttons of her jacket so I could get at those long, hard nipples.

 

Her pace increased and she became a little breathless, or perhaps that was me. Then she suddenly withdrew and, surprisingly effortlessly, she spun me around so I was bent over the sofa and entered me like that, rough but not violent. A slap on my arse was the nearest she got to that. I was in heaven and Rosalind took me, fucked me, had me until I was on the brink of orgasm.

 

“Not yet, darling, not yet.” With that, she withdrew again and pulled me upright and led me to the bedroom where things got very, very interesting.

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