Chapter 2
Cherie had stood up in the tub and was reaching for the towel to dry herself when she heard her buzzer. "Damn," she muttered. "I'll bet it's Frankie Scarletti again," and she called out, "Just a minute." She hurriedly patted herself dry and stepped into the yellow terry-cloth bathrobe she had brought in with her towel.
"Take your time," she heard a female voice call back from the other side of the door. It was warm and friendly, and Cherie recognized it as Kelly's. She had heard her benefactor over the phone several times, and she felt herself relieved. She had been hoping that Kelly would come over to welcome her.
The young blonde model stood before the full-length mirror and quickly brushed her hair over her smooth sloping shoulders and tightened the belt around her waist, adjusting the front of it to fit snugly across the thrusting globes of her still sensuously throbbing tits. She could feel her stomach muscles flutter slightly at her first meeting with the person who had helped her get the contract when Spencer had called from Los Angeles, and she wished that she had taken a little less time with her bath so that she would have been ready when Kelly arrived.
She stepped quickly through the apartment and opened up the front door.
Kelly Walker stood leaning against the door jamb, lighting a cigarette, her long raven hair flowing well below her soft rounded shoulders and reaching to the center of her back. She was beautiful!
"Hiya, neighbor," she said when she saw Cherie dressed in a bathrobe and still a little wet. "If I had known you were taking a bath, I would have waited, but Frankie told me you had arrived, and I wanted to see you."
Cherie smiled at the stunning, deeply tanned woman. There was a certain glamour about Kelly that did not match the photographs the young fashion model had seen of her. "It's all right," she said, opening the door wider so that her neighbor could come in. "I'd just finished when you rang."
"I'll bet the trip was pretty tiring," Kelly said flicking her cigarette in an empty waste can. "You look like you could use a drink. What say we stop over to my place? You're not set up here, and I have everything we need next door."
Cherie looked around her apartment and noticed that, even though it was furnished, it was hardly adequate for entertaining, and there were many things she wanted to ask Kelly. "All right," the young blonde said brightly. "I'll just change and ... "
"Oh . . . bullshit. You're dressed just fine, dear."
With that, the tall, voluptuous model turned and walked through the door. Cherie followed behind, noticing that Kelly's hips swayed provocatively to and fro, as though she had practiced a glamorous walk that really turned men on. The lovely blonde was not all that sure what she should make of her next-door neighbor, after what Frankie Scarletti had said about her. Kelly opened the door to her apartment, and Cherie noticed that it had not been locked. "Don't you lock your door?" she asked with a trace of bewilderment in her voice. "I should think that in a large city like New York, you would be worried about being robbed or something."
"I do lock it when I'm out on a shoot ... or away from the apartment, but when I'm here, the door is never locked. Any time you want to come over, just walk right in, honey."
"I guess I'm still thinking about a big city with a small-town, California mind," Cherie offered. "I haven't liked a great deal of what I've seen since I've been here."
Kelly went to the small bar in her lavishly decorated apartment. Cherie looked around and noticed plants hanging from the ceiling, brightly colored furniture covers, many paintings and photographs on the wall and small, expensive looking artifacts on several end tables. The lovely dark-haired girl was silent as she poured two shot glasses of Scotch and handed Cherie one.
"What have you seen that you didn't like?" she asked, sipping on her drink as she looked at the blue-eyed blonde.
"Well ... for one thing, Frankie Scarletti."
Kelly choked a little on her drink as though she were trying to stifle a laugh. "Frankie? He's really off the wall. You don't have to worry about him. He's almost a joke. But I thought you lived in Tinsel Town for a while. You should be used to a large city."
Cherie sipped lightly on her drink. She was not used to drinking this early in the day, when she drank at all. "I did, but only for a few months while Spencer and I were shooting the layout for Baby Bonnie. I never really liked Los Angeles all that much, but with Spencer, I didn't feel as alone as I do here."
"Well, we should be able to remedy that. Before you know it, you'll have all kinds of friends," Kelly said as she sat casually on her large couch.
Cherie was a little surprised by the beautiful woman's helplessness. Usually other women tried to stay away from her because she was so beautiful, but she could see right away that Kelly was very informal. She liked that.
"Now, I'm sure you have a lot of questions about what you'll be doing, but I don't want to talk about that right now. There'll be plenty of time for that in the next week or so. Since I'm more experienced than you, I have it from the head office that you'll be shooting with me for a while. After that, you're on your own. It's a big agency, but we take care of our own."
Cherie felt totally at ease with this slightly older young woman. There was something about her to indicate that even though Frankie Scarletti had been correct about what he had told her about Kelly Walker, he had greatly exaggerated. The sophisticated, sensual ease of the raven-haired beauty was different and quite charming.
"Now . . . tell me about the trip here," Kelly said, making conversation. Cherie sat down in a white leather chair opposite the glamorous fashion model, whose face had been on the covers of so many magazines.
"The trip was really tiring," Cherie said, taking another, deeper sip from her drink. "There were times when I felt every man on the plane was stripping me with his eyes."
"That shouldn't be all that surprising. You're a hot looking girl. And traveling alone makes you look available. You shouldn't let things like that bother you," Kelly said as she lowered both her hands holding her drink down to her cunt to rest between her luscious thighs covered by a flowing blue chiffon skirt.
"It doesn't bother me all that much," Cherie countered. "I should think though, that some men would want to get to know me as a person instead of just a ... a ... a sex object."
Kelly shrugged her shoulders without looking at Cherie. "Fucking is fun. There's no reason not to have a little fun when you can get it. God knows there are enough problems in the world."
Cherie felt a shudder race down the length of her spine. How could an intelligent person like Kelly believe that sex was something just for fun? True, it was something delightful as she remembered from being with Spencer, but to have that kind of "fun" with just any man. . . . She noticed that Kelly's black eyes seemed to be tracing a suggestive path across the robe pulled tightly over her full, rounded, wide-set tits.
"Here in New York City, alone, you'll learn to find yourself," the older woman said. "There're plenty of different people here. You might even find someone like Spencer."
"Spencer is one in a million," Cherie said, as though she were defending her lover against some cheap defamation. Some day she had vowed she would get him back.
Kelly shrugged again. "I don't want to get personal, Cherie. What you believe is your own business. Let me freshen up your drink." The lovely model stood up from the couch and refilled both glasses. While she was gone, Cherie took another, more inclusive look at the apartment. It was laid out exactly the same as her own, except that everything was reversed. That meant that Kelly's bedroom and her own were right next to each other. Cheri noticed that Kelly's stereo was in the living room, and that made her glad. She knew some people who put the stereo in their bedrooms, and from the way the two apartments were laid out, there could have been trouble between the two girls if Kelly had done the same thing. The view from Kelly's room was almost the same as from her own . . . overlooking the Hudson River.
"To you, and your new life," Kelly Walker said as she raised her glass in a toast and handed Cherie her refill.
Cherie drank, feeling the warm soothing liquor burn pleasantly down her throat and relax her tired muscles as much as the bath had.
"For what it's worth," Kelly said, "I really started at the bottom."
"Oh?" Cherie asked in surprise. "I would have thought you started closer to the top."
"It's like I said. There's lots of room for advancement in the fashion world. It depends on how you handle yourself, though."
"How long have you been with the agency?"
"Almost four years. I've had to deal with die men we have in the agency. Some of them are nice, some of them are real bastards, but in general, people are people. We have sort of a microcosm in this business, and if you can handle yourself, you should have no trouble."
Cherie was a little put off by Kelly's language, though she could see that there was nothing more to it than a relaxed way of speaking. She had heard women talk like that in Los Angeles, but her growing up years in the sheltered area of her home in Bakersfield had made her forget that there were really no such things as "bad words," as her mother called them. She could see that she and her neighbor would become good friends quickly. Kelly seemed willing to let Cherie be who she wanted to be, and the lovely, young blonde found that Kelly was a very intelligent person. She had a degree in English Literature from N.Y.U., and until she had become a fashion model, had been determined to find herself a husband.
"As things turned out, though, I found my place in the business," the black-haired beauty said from the sensually reclining position she'd gotten into on the couch. "I found that there were just too many things to do to take myself out of circulation. Maybe someday, I'll think about getting married, but for now, I want to take everything life has to offer."
"I've thought a great deal about getting married, but I just haven't found the right man," Cherie offered. "I mean, well, Spencer has his work ... "
"I see," Kelly said with a sparkling smile on her full, firm lips. "If Spencer is, as you say, one in a million, you won't find another in Bakersfield. New York is a wide open city. Maybe even more open than Los Angeles."
Cherie took a deep breath. She had had a little more to drink than she wanted, and with all the alcohol and the long trip, she was feeling very tired. "I think I'm going to bed. If I have to shoot tomorrow, I'll want to be a little more alive than I'm feeling today."
"I'll be around tomorrow morning to take you to the studio," Kelly said. "Remember one thing, though. Away from work, we can be friends. In the business world, we're competitors!"
"I won't forget," Cherie said as she opened the door and walked the few steps to her own apartment. Looking around, she realized that she hadn't gotten as settled as she would have liked, but it was more important to get to know the people she would be working with than to unpack and arrange everything. She thought briefly of putting on the nightie she liked to wear when she went to bed, but she was just too tired to unpack even that.
Dropping her suitcase on the floor next to her bed, she took off her robe and climbed naked in between the sheets of her bed. The drinking she had done made thinking impossible, and she was quickly asleep, feeling as though she belonged right where she was for the first time since Spencer and she had broken up.
It had been early evening when Cherie had gone to bed, but when she woke up, it was pitch black outside. Cherie lay in her bed and wondered why she had woken up, and she had almost drifted back to sleep when she heard a thumping against her bedroom wall, the same wall that was against Kelly's apartment. She pulled her naked body to a sitting position and strained her ears to listen. She heard it again . . . muffled noises that echoed through her darkened room. Then another sound ... a high pitched, then lower, almost pleading and groaning. The lovely naked blonde held her breath and listened. It sounded as though a body had been thrown on the bed. Quickly, Cherie remembered that Kelly left her door unlocked. Could it be that some man had gotten past the security guard and come up to her to rob her apartment?
Cherie slid her head against the wall and pressed her ear tightly to it. The noises were still muffled, and she could not quite make out what was happening. The thought that her only friend in New York City might be in trouble fixed itself in her mind. She had to see if there was anything she could do. She picked up her robe and wrapped it around her body, walking silently through her own apartment, through the hall and into Kelly's apartment. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was certain that she would be heard. There was the unmistakable sound of movement in Kelly's bedroom floating through the stillness.
The door to Kelly's bedroom was slightly ajar, and there was a soft light coming through the crack. Wouldn't Kelly scream if she needed help? Cherie thought she might, but there was the possibility that she couldn't. She walked on her toes, drawn by some unknown force to the open bedroom door. The soft light from the night light made hardly any shadows as the voluptuous young blonde pushed the door further open.
A low moan was suddenly discernible as Cherie tried to let her eyes become adjusted to the faint light. She squinted and heard more noises coming out without letup. Pushing the door open more, she was sure she could hear the sound of heavy breathing and the lewd, squeaking sounds of bed springs punctuated by animal-like grunts of what sounded like pain. Cherie poked her head a little more into the bedroom and adjusted her eyes to the soft lighting in the room, and the figures splayed out on Kelly's bed suddenly became clear.
Cherie's heart stopped beating for a moment, and her breath choked in her throat. There was a man on top of Kelly ... and they were fucking!
The bed was positioned so that the wide-eyed blonde could see the man's long, thickly pulsing cock disappearing and reappearing with each deep, hard fuck he made into Kelly's greedily devouring cunt. The beautiful model's legs were stretched open wide and every now and then she would kick high up in the air and then fold her ankles around his driving asscheeks, her ankles locking tightly behind his thighs, pulling him into her with all her strength.
Cherie put her hand to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming, and she leaned against the door jamb to keep from falling as she felt all the blood drain from her face. Kelly had never mentioned that she had a boyfriend, or that she was expecting a visitor. Sex should be something secret and precious . . . not cheap and open as this was! Cherie was aghast as she watched the unknown man fucking deeply into Kelly, and her mouth dropped open as she caught sight of his stiffly throbbing cock with every out-fuck. How could a woman be so free with her body? Oh, God, this was depraved!
In the dim light, Cherie could make out her narrow hair-lined split of Kelly's vagina opening around the man's immense cock like a love-starved mouth. As his wetly glistening penis slid down to the spasmodically contracting lips of Kelly's cunt, Cherie could see the fleshy foreskin on the cock and the bottom of its bulbous, round tip pausing for a teasing moment only to fuck back through the tight little vaginal lips once more.
Cherie stood hypnotized, unable to take her eyes away from the spectacle of love-making in front of her. No . . . calling it love-making was too good. This was fucking!
Cherie never thought she would even think the word, but in was the only thing that came to her mind. She would never have believed that Kelly, a woman who seemed so intelligent, could be like the "bad girls" her mother had told her about. Cherie had known women who had been fucked by their boyfriends without being married to them, but at least there was love between them. But this . . . Oh God .. .!
Despite her non-acceptance of what she was watching, the scene brought vivid memories of making love with Spencer. It had seemed a long time since the first and only time she had felt a man's cock fucking into her hot little cunt, and while her fingers generally relieved some of the emptiness, they always left her pussy begging for more. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to once again have a man's prick fucking in and out of her pussy.
Cherie could see the muscles standing out like velvet cables on Kelly's smooth inner thighs, and then her legs lifting higher, the long, evenly tanned columns spiraling up the man's back. His hands were cupping around her nakedly pumping white asscheeks with a lustful strength that almost cut white bloodless lines into the smooth curving resiliency of Kelly's flesh. He squeezed the firm rounded moons together, forcing the walls of her tightly quivering cunt closer around the thickness of his rigidly fucking cock. Cherie narrowed her eyes to see the soft raven curls of sparse pussy hair grazing tantalizingly against the lust-swollen prick with each in and out stroke.
Kelly's nakedly upraised asscheeks were grinding faster now, and the groans and mewls of pleasure were becoming more and more desperate as the glazed, half-comprehending blue eyes of the blonde stayed glued to the wild, intense fucking taking place on the bed. Kelly's passionately demonic upward thrusts were met with equal desperation by the man, whose face, turning to the side for a moment, was distorted in a mask of lust.
"Oooooooooo . . . yyyyyyyyeeeeeeesssssss . . . Bobbie. Fuck me . . . fuck your big, wonderful cock into my cunt," Kelly wailed up into the brown-haired man's face.
Cherie couldn't believe she had heard correctly. The time she and Spencer had fucked, she had never said anything like that except once! What could the relationship be between Kelly and the man she called Bobbie? Cherie tried to fix a description of his passion-flushed face, but the loud smack of pussy flesh against cock flesh resounding through the room like peals of thunder distracted her thoughts and brought her attention back to the lascivious motions of their wantonly writhing loins below.
Kelly's legs curled and uncurled in wild ecstatic spasms around the man's obscenely pumping asscheeks, pulling him down into her like a boa constrictor sapping strength from its victim.
"Fuck me back . . . fuck me harder, Kelly," the man grunted above the wantonly writhing woman.
"Yesssss . . . Bob ... I love it. I'm fucking my cunt back as hard as I can . . . ooooooohhhh! Ooohh! Ooohh!"
Cherie backed away from the bedroom and out of the apartment, silently closing the door behind her as she made her way to her own bedroom. She threw herself onto her own bed, the sounds of Kelly's fucking still coming through the wall that separated their rooms. Her pussy tingled hotly from watching them fuck. She could even envision what they were doing and it brought to mind again the time when she and Spencer had fucked. She could feel a rippling wave of pulsating sensation sear through the tips of her hugely billowing titties down into her cunt, and she mindlessly touched one hand to her straining left tit, reaching under her robe and feeling the small pointed nipple harden beneath her gently pinching fingers. A teasing wave of pleasurable warmth quivered out across the tiny erect nipples of both tits as her hands commenced to roam of their own free will over the fleshy curves of her naked, shamelessly aroused young body.
Seeing Kelly fucking with the strange man had gotten her pussy more excited than she realized, and she could feel the frustration of emptiness burning down in her cunt. While she had nothing against finger-fucking herself, she wished she weren't so lonely that she had to, and the need for sexual release got the better of her once more.
As if in a dream, her hands began to massage the straining whiteness of her sensuously throbbing tits, gently trapping the trembling little nipples between her fingers, kneading and pulling them until she was almost certain that she would rip them loose from her sensually quivering mounds.
God! What she had seen was added to the memories of Spencer she had had earlier in the day. She had been just about to finger fuck her pussy then, and she would have had not Kelly come to visit. Now, with the knowledge that her next-door neighbor was being fucked, there was nothing she could do against the wave of desire that washed over her.
A small amount of light entered her bedroom, and she watched her body tremble under the ministrations of her own fingers. Her hands burrowed down her abdomen and groped at the sparse, softly curling, golden pussy hair up between her firm young thighs. She slowly spread her legs and watched as the fleecy mound covering her cunt began to glisten with tiny droplets of her body flowing cunt juice and sparkle in the dim light. She could feel her own moistly dilating pussy slit palpitating now against the tips of her fingers that drew the narrow furrow open, exposing the fleshy lips of her body quivering cunt to the cool air around her lewdly working hands.
Groaning, Cherie thrust her fuck finger into her heatedly moistened cunthole, sensing the open, blonde-furred lips of her pussy part slightly as if to permit her finger free entry. Her mind raced wildly from her thoughts of the only lover she had ever had to the obscene sights she had seen in Kelly's apartment.
She could still hear the lewd smack of the shamelessly writhing model's pussy flesh against the strange man's wildly fucking cock, and the low mewling sounds of passion erupting from the shapely raven beauty's throat, and she recalled the length and thickness of the man's glistening cock as it fucked in and out of Kelly's hungrily sucking pussy.
"Oooooohhhhh . . . ooohhh . . . oohh . . oh ... oh . . ." she heard the sharp cries, telling her that her friend next door was about to explode into a mind-blowing cum.
The fire in Cherie's painfully throbbing cunt burned and smoldered more intensely than ever, demanding more and more to feed its all-consuming hunger. She screwed another finger into her cunt-hole, spreading her legs even further apart, then, with a low passionate moan of her own, she drew her legs widely apart and upraised her nakedly wriggling asscheeks off the mattress. She looked down at herself to see her wildly writhing form, one hand working on the stiffening little nipple of her pulsating right tittie through the parted bathrobe while the other fucked rhythmically in and out of her moistly glistening little pussy, imitating the thrust and counter-thrust of a cock ravishing her cunt . . . Spencer's cock . . . Bob's cock . . . It made no difference. Any cock!
The obscene vision of her own voluptuously swaying body, the bathrobe parted to expose the flat, tanned plane of her belly and her moistly glistening pussy hair sent renewed tingles of lascivious pleasure through her trembling cunt.
Cherie Tyson's mind went wild as she finger-fucked herself to a wild cum. She heard the heave of bed springs from the adjoining room followed by a low, panting moan, and then her mind did something she would not have expected. She no longer imagined that it was Spencer's cock fucking in and out of her. Her mind fixed on the image of Bob, and envisioned him filling her body squirming little pussy hole with the plunging whiteness of his hugely fucking cock.
Electric tingles of lewd pleasure raced through the young blonde's cunt as she pictured herself under the stranger's savagely fucking cock, and a wanton surge of lust-drenching sensation swept through her hungrily aching little pussy when she realized that unless she changed her whole way of thinking, she would never be able to end the emptiness she was feeling in her hot little cunt.
"God. . . I Ooohhh God! Fuck me. Fuck my cunt. Fuck it. Fuck meeeeeeeeeee. . .!" she heard Kelly's impassioned voice through the walk
Cherie's face contorted as she felt her orgasm coming . . . tiny fiery fingers of pleasure leaping through her body clasping and unclasping cunt walls, and her whole body vibrated as the first throes of her climax seared through her burning cunt
"Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggg ... ssshlAhnhhiiiitttt . . .!" she heard the man's voice resound in both rooms. "I'm cumming ... I'm cuuuuuummmmmmmuinng.. I
The young blonde's moist, quivering pussy grew wetter still, her white-hot pussy juices gushing from around her deeply fucking fingers and stickily covering her hand. She could feel it running in warm, slippery rivulets down the inside of her nakedly trembling thighs to her gyrating asscheeks.
Cherie stayed in her position, with her legs splayed out wide, for a while, enjoying the last fluttering of ebbing pleasure that seared through her moistly palpitating little cunt. Finally, though, it was over, and with a sigh, she withdrew her fingers from her warmly quivering cunthole before at last resting her warm, flushed asscheeks down on the mattress, her hot young cunt satiated and her mind empty of all thoughts.
She lay there completely still, her hands resting on her cum-drenched thighs and the yellow bathrobe still pulled up and to the side of her narrow waist.
It just isn't fair, she thought to herself. Even though this had been one of the better finger fucks she had had, it was still not the same as having a man's cock fucking in and out of her pussy. She believed what her mother had told her when she was in high school. A lady should make love only to her husband. Cherie had never considered anything else and had only slipped up once. She had thought of finding another man like Spencer, but most of the men she had met in Los Angeles and in her home town in California were only after sex. None of the boys had been as gentle and patient with her as Spencer had been. Perhaps she would find a man like him in New York City.
Cherie began to feel more alone than she ever had in her life. When she had left home the first time, she had been with the man she loved. But now . . . she had no one. The only person she knew in New York was acting in a manner totally foreign to her way of puritan thinking, and the lovely blonde model wondered if she would ever be able to end the lonely aching sensation she was beginning to feel more and more often these days up inside her treacherous young cunt.