Fortune Creek
by Ann Douglas
The dark haired actress sat quietly
at a corner table, enjoying her anonymity as
she watched the coming and goings of
the other patrons of the roadside diner. It
had been a long time since she'd been able
to enjoy such a simple pleasure and she
wanted to make the most of it.
While not a major box office draw,
she had been a familiar figure on the silver
screen for almost a decade, but despite that
the thirty-four year old had little fear
that she'd be recognized. The face that
movie goers associated with her was one
created by skilled makeup artists, with
every blemish carefully concealed. Additionally,
her short, natural blonde hair had been dyed
black for her most recent role – a
performance that wouldn't be seen until
early next year.
Still, even without Hollywood magic,
there was no denying that she was an
attractive woman, one accustomed to drawing
attention from even casual onlookers. The
green and blue sleeveless print she wore,
stylish but not expensive, accentuated her
well developed form, so much so that it was
her body that people usually noticed rather
than her face – at least in a place like
this.
Neither would a check of the register
at the motel across the way shed any light
on her identity. She
had signed in as Constance Raymond, a
private joke on her part as the name
belonged to the character she played in her
first credited screen role, in a film now so
obscure as to be of interest only to trivia
buffs.
It amused her to use it whenever she
deigned to travel incognito.
It hadn't taken long after her
arrival to see that both the restaurant and
the motel it served had seen better days, as
had the rest of the town, all eight blocks
of it.
Three years after the wars with Germany and
Japan,
the bulk of their clientele were still
soldiers and sailors that used it as a way
station between their Southern
Arizona bases and the free
wheeling towns on the other side of the
Mexican border. It
was also an occasional resting place for
traveling salesmen and those waylaid by
capricious fortune. It
was among the last that the actress found
herself.
After a month on location, living out
of a trailer while they filmed at a mock
western town southwest of
Tucson
,
she had become tired of seeing the same
people day after day. So
when the long holiday weekend beckoned, she
decided against heading north to
Las Vegas
with the rest of the cast and instead
arranged to borrow a car and headed south,
the solitude of the open road a more
appealing prospect.
She'd gone about eighty miles down
Route 86 when a cracked shock absorber had
forced her off the road in the middle of
nowhere.
Thankfully, she'd been found by the
local sheriff, who'd arranged for a tow
truck.
The mechanic at the garage she'd been
taken to assured her he could replace the
damaged part, but as few townsfolk drove
foreign cars it would be Monday before a
replacement could be delivered.
Her initial response to being
stranded was to call her agent and have him
send someone down from Los Angeles with a
replacement car, and let whoever he sent
wait on the repair, the fact that it was a
five hundred mile drive notwithstanding. Then
she considered that, based on what Max had
made in commissions the last year alone, he
could well afford to send a plane.
But once she had calmed down a bit,
she began to feel different. After
all, she had set out on her little jaunt in
search of
a bit of solitude and adventure, and
while this place might not offer much in the
way of the latter, it certainly had plenty
of the former.
But it was a decision that she was
now starting to regret.
-=-=-=-
"Would you like a refill?" asked
the redheaded waitress, a half filled carafe
in her hand.
Constance
looked up at the lithe young woman in the
sky blue and white waitress outfit, noting
again that it had to be at least a decade
out of style.
She smiled and then glanced down at
her empty cup, indicating yes with a nod of
her head.
The pretty girl, who the stylized
script on her blouse identified as Mary,
returned the smile as she poured the black
liquid into the cup. That
done, she looked back up at the woman and
asked if she would like anything else,
suggesting a slice of the diner's homemade
pecan pie.
Constance
graciously declined and just asked for the
check, turning her attention to the steaming
cup as the girl flipped through her order
pad and tore off the receipt, laying it on
the edge of the table. When
the older woman glanced back up, she was
surprised to see the girl was still there,
the expression of her face suggesting that
she wanted to say something more.
Constance was about
to inquire what it might have been, when the
girl simply smiled once again and walked
wordlessly away.
As she did, the gentle sway of her
hips and the way she filled out the bottom
half of her outdated but still flattering
uniform didn't go unnoticed. The
receding view, the actress decided, was just
as enticing as the approaching one had been. For
a moment, Constance
worried that perhaps she spent a bit too
long admiring the display, but assured
herself that even if she had, no one had
noticed.
After all, this was Fortune Creek,
population three hundred and twenty-six, not
Hollywood Hills.
Still, even though this wasn't
Los Angeles
,
it was never a good idea to be too obvious
about some of your interests, especially
those not shared by the mainstream – even if
they were almost commonplace among your
peers.
It only took one careless mistake to
destroy all that you'd spent years building.
Studios invested considerable amounts
in promoting their stars and were
correspondingly willing to go to great
lengths to hide indiscretions that might
negatively impact careers, and more
importantly industry profits. But
even then there were limits and the
possibility that smaller fish might be
sacrificed for the greater good.
Only a year before, a promising young
actor, one who fancied the company of other
men, hardly uncommon in the industry, had
been thrown to the wolves by the same studio
executives that had cultivated his career. He'd
been a valuable commodity, but not as valued
as a more veteran star that'd been just a
little bit careless in making sure his bed
partner of the evening, who was at least in
the public's eye the right gender, was also
of legal age.
Constance
spent another few minutes watching Mary tend
to a few other customers, feeling a bit of
envy as one, obviously a local, spent half
that time in conversation with the waitress. As
she rose from the table, the recently filled
cup of coffee left practically untouched,
the temporary brunette noted that a new
waitress had appeared at the edge of the
counter.
She looked to be about the same age,
but, at least in her opinion, nowhere near
as cute.
It was always the cute ones that drew
Constance's
attention, the girl next door type rather
than the safer would-be starlets, willing to
do most anything for that big break. The
latter provided a veritable candy store of
delights for both genders of the Hollywood elite. Then
of course there were always her peers, a
surprising number of whom shared both her
peculiarity and the need to keep any
suggestion that they weren't the
conventional leading ladies they presented
themselves to be out of the tabloids. But
again, few of them drew her attention.
She left a tip far in excess of what
she had spent, compensation perhaps for the
thoughts she'd been entertaining about the
young woman.
Thoughts which she was sure the girl
would have found unsettling, to say the
least.
Stepping out into the warm evening
air, Constance
considered her options. Hanging
around the motel's recreation room, little
more than a makeshift bar, with a collection
of half drunken soldiers, and sailors, held
little appeal. The
town was too small to have a movie theatre,
and even if a television set were to be
found, the strongest signal barely reached
this far south and she couldn't stand
watching double images on snow filled
screens.
So back to her room to listen to the
radio seemed her best bet, even though the
one local station that came in clear seemed
obsessed with the songs of
Dinah
Shore
and Perry Como.
She'd taken a few steps in that
direction, but paused at the edge of the
curb, the beauty of the overhead stars in
the cloudless night sky catching her
attention.
It was a view she rarely saw since
moving to
Los Angeles
.
"Pretty, aren't they?" a
quiet voice said from behind her, startling
the older woman.
Constance
turned to find herself face to face with the
waitress from the diner. It
took a moment for her to collect herself,
but once she did, she agreed that that were
indeed pretty.
'But not as pretty as you,' she
thought but dared not say.
The street lighting outside was
paradoxically more illuminating than that in
the diner, allowing Constance
to get a much better look at the young
woman.
About the same height as Constance,
who was five six in her bare feet, the long
haired redhead, who wore it pinned up into a
bun, had
medium sized breasts and long, smooth legs
visible beneath the hem of her uniform. She
was also older than the actress had
originally thought, and not the high school
girl she had first taken her to be.
"Joan,"
the young woman said, extending her
hand. "Joan
Cooper."
"Joan?"
Constance
repeated, a momentary confusion on her face, "I
thought your blouse said Mary."
"It does," Joan
laughed,
"but the diner owner isn't about to
spend fifty cents to have the name redone
every time he hires a new waitress."
"Constance Raymond," she
said, finding it funny that the waitress was
working under an assumed name as well.
For a fleeting moment, Constance
thought she saw the same hesitation on
Joan's face that she had seen earlier, but
then it faded and was replaced with a smile
as she reached out and accepted Constance's hand.
"So what brings you to our fair town,
Constance?"
Joan asked as she released her hand. "Other
than our fine view of the stars."
"Car trouble," she
replied.
"Oh, you're the lady with the fancy
car," Joan
said, adding when she saw the surprise on
Constance's face, "Curtis was in the diner
earlier to pick up his dinner and he was all
excited that he finally had a chance to work
on something more than the beat-up hulks
around here."
"That doesn't sound too reassuring,"
Constance said,
remembering her reluctance to trust the
expensive sports car to the mechanic when he
arrived with his tow truck. "Should
I
be worried?"
"About Curtis?" Joan
inquired.
Constance
nodded.
"Don't let his appearance fool you," Joan
smiled.
"There isn't a car around he can't
fix and he learned a lot about European cars
when he was stationed in
Germany
."
"That's reassuring,"
Constance said,
hoping that the girl's confidence was
justified.
"He's good, he really is," Joan
insisted, seeing the concern still on Constance's face.
"Are you done for the evening?"
Constance asked,
changing the subject as she decided that
good or bad, Curtis was all she had.
"Oh yeah, a shift and a half is
enough,"
Joan answered. "I
just want to get home, kick off my shoes and
have a good cup of coffee."
The comment seemed strange, seeing
that the girl worked at and had just come
out of the diner. Guessing
Constance's
reaction, Joan answered the unasked
question.
"I said a good cup of coffee," she
laughed.
"I noticed that you didn't finish
your refill so you know what I'm talking
about."
"I guess it was a bit lacking,"
Constance said.
"That would be a charitable
description,"
Joan grinned. "Tell
you what, if you have no plans, I'd be glad
to share.
I only live a few blocks from here."
"I think that's the best offer I've
had all day,"
Constance
said, brushing aside the tiny voice of
caution in the back of her mind.
-=-=-=-
Joan's apartment was a two room
affair, situated over a radio repair shop;
you actually had to walk up an outside
staircase to reach it. Simple
but functional, the larger room was split
between a living area and a small
kitchenette.
The furniture was a hodgepodge of
styles, lending the impression that it had
come with the lodgings. Still,
you could see she'd put a lot of effort into
fixing it up, evidence that she'd been here
a while and expected to continue.
"Be it ever so humble," Joan said as
she led Constance
inside,
"and I do mean humble."
"I've lived in worse,"
Constance said
without thinking, comparing her surroundings
to her apartment when she'd first come west,
the shoebox she'd shared with three other
girls.
"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," she
added a few moments later, feeling her
comment had been a bit judgmental.
"It's okay, I'm not under any
illusions about what it is," Joan
said as she walked over to the kitchen
counter and filled her coffee pot before
putting it on a hot plate, "and
what it is, is cheap and more importantly,
mine."
"From the way you said that, the last
seems a lot more important to you than the
first,"
Constance
noted.
"You caught that, did you?" Joan
smiled.
"Yeah, it's really important for me
to have a place of my own. Not
that I haven't had a number of offers to
share a space, but most of them usually
involved a very short term cohabitation."
Constance
just nodded her head. It
didn't take much imagination to figure out
that it was more than rent the temporary
roommates were looking to share.
"Given that car you were driving, I
figure you must have a really nice place
back home, wherever that is," Joan
added.
"It suits me,"
Constance said,
leaving out the details of the ten room
split level she owned, "and
the
car actually belongs to a friend; I just
borrowed it for the weekend."
"Must be one hell of a friend to lend
you something that nice," Joan
pointed out.
Constance
just smiled, not wanting to explain that the
friend was an actor whose name was not only
instantly recognizable, but for whom the
expensive car was just a shiny bauble – one
that he had already grown tired of and was
planning to replace.
"Where did you say you were from?" Joan
asked.
"Los Angeles,"
Constance replied,
keeping her answer more generic than
specific.
"The big city, huh, what do you do
there?"
Joan asked as she took out a few
pastries from a box and laid them on a tray
next to the hot plate.
"I work in the entertainment
industry,"
Constance
said, still trying to sound vague.
"Are you an actress?" Joan
asked, excitement in her voice.
"Well, yes,"
Constance replied,
wondering why she hadn't simply said she was
a secretary or something. She
certainly knew enough about that, since she
had once been one.
"Oh wow," Joan
said in the same tone. "How
many
pictures have you been in? Would
you
have been in anything that I've seen?"
"I don't know; what have you seen?"
Constance asked in
return, ignoring the first part of the
question.
"A lot, I guess," Joan
laughed.
"My older sister used to work in a
theatre back home. It mainly showed older
movies, but she used to get me in just about
every day after school for free."
"Lucky you,"
Constance smiled.
"I have to say, you do look a bit
familiar, but if you were someone famous I'm
sure that I'd have recognized you already," Joan
said as she laid two cups and saucers on the
same tray as the tiny cakes.
"Well, we can't all be Loretta Young,
as much as we'd like to be," Constance
noted, mentioning this year's Academy Award
winner for best actress.
"Oh, I loved "The Farmer's Daughter," Joan
gushed, going on for a bit about the film
the actress had won her Oscar for. "Have
you
ever met her?"
"I've seen her a few times,"
Constance replied.
"What's she like in person?" Joan
asked.
"Well, I've really only seen her on
the lot,"
Constance lied, ignoring the fact
that she'd twice shared a dressing room with
the award winner during USO shows during the
war.
"Still, it must be exciting," Joan
said, "working and being around all those
glamorous people every day."
"Sometimes,"
Constance replied
with a smile.
"but it isn't always fun and games;
most times it's hard work. Also,
you have to understand that the people you
see up on the screen are just characters in
a story; the actors playing them might be
very different in real life, with very
different personalities."
"I guess you're right," Joan
said as the
water in the pot began to boil, "I
mean, you'd be in a better position to know
than I ever would. Anyway,
the coffee's almost ready, so why don't you
have a seat on the couch and I'll bring it
in when it's done"
Grateful to end the subject,
Constance leapt at the suggestion.
-=-=-=-
"So what's your story?" Constance
asked after coffee and cake had been served,
steering the conversation away from
Hollywood
. "From
what you said before, I'm assuming you're
not from around here."
"I don't think anyone in this town is
really from around here," Joan
said as she sipped her coffee. "People
just sort of show up and some wind up
staying."
"And why did you stay?"
Constance asked.
"I guess I needed to sort some things
out and this seemed as good a place as any
to do it,"
Joan replied.
"Why do I feel that there's something
more to that?"
Constance
said.
"Because I guess there is," Joan
said.
"Forgive me, it's really none of my
business,"
Constance
offered, quickly changing the subject. "This
really
is good coffee, by the way."
But Joan didn't seem to want to
change the subject. Having
someone to talk to that wouldn't be in town
a few
days from now appealed to her.
"I'm originally from a small town
about a hundred miles northwest of here," Joan
said,
adding with a laugh, "although
after
being here a while, I think I really have to
redefine what a small town is."
Joan smiled; she'd made pretty much
the same observation.
"Last April, my boyfriend, Roy, and I
stopped off here on our way to
Mexico
," she
continued.
"Actually, I should say my fiancé
since we were planning to get married once
we were there.
He'd just gotten out of the Army
after being away for three years."
Constance
nodded her head in understanding. From
what she'd read, the number of GIs and
sailors tying the knot as soon as they got
home was reaching epic numbers. A
few sociologists were even predicting a baby
boom in the near future.
"The problem was, the nearer we got
to the altar, the more I began to wonder if
that was the place I really wanted to be," Joan
went on.
"That's understandable,"
Constance said. "I
mean, the two of you were apart for three
years – a lot can happen in that time. People
change, especially when one of them has gone
through things like I'm sure
Roy
did."
"Roy
spent the last year of the war and
afterwards working in a supply depot in England and
later in
France
," Joan
said, "and
he was pretty much the same guy I knew
before he was drafted. No,
I was the one that was different."
It still was a story that Constance had heard
many times of late. The
social order had indeed changed as many
women, forced to assume more non-traditional
roles and make decisions for themselves
while the men were off to war, now found
themselves unwilling to simply fade back
into the shadow of home, family and being
the good little wife.
Joan went on to explain that she had
been only sixteen when Roy, who had just
turned eighteen, was drafted. They
had only been a year apart in high school,
Roy
having had to repeat an early grade, and it
was assumed by everyone that they'd get
married after she graduated.
"People used to tell me that they
admired me for waiting for
Roy
,
and not going out with anyone else while he
was gone,"
she went on. "Not
every girl did. Especially
once some of the men started coming home."
"That is admirable,"
Constance noted,
thinking of how many women felt, patriotic
duty notwithstanding, that a 4F between
their legs was preferable to a 1A who could
only mail it in from overseas.
"Not really," Joan
confessed. "I think I was just grateful for
the excuse.
Like I said before, I'd really begun
to think that marriage and motherhood were
not for me."
"Joan, it's almost the middle of the
twentieth century; not every woman has to be
married,"
Constance
pointed out, the young girl's words having
stuck a chord with her about not
surrendering to convention. "You're
entitled
to live your life as you choose, not how
anyone else tells you to."
"That's what I said to
Roy
,
but he just said I was getting cold feet," Joan
said. "It
wasn't until we got all the way here that I
finally got the courage to say what I really
felt. We
had a big fight right there in the diner,
and when it was over, so were we."
"And he just
abandoned you here?"
Constance said,
indignation in her tone.
"No, that was my idea," Joan
replied.
"He wanted to take me home,
regardless of what happened, but I wasn't
ready to go.
I needed time to think."
"For four months?"
Joan just gave an ambiguous shrug in
reply, then said it was complicated.
Constance
nodded her head; complicated was certainly
something she understood.
Changing the subject, Joan asked a
number of questions about living in a city
like
Los Angeles
,
and drifted back to what it was like working
in the movies.
Time passed and the coffee in their
cups was long gone when Constance noted the
time on a clock on a side table.
"Oh my, I didn't realize how late it
was," she
said, adding as she remembered Joan's
comment earlier about how long her work day
had been.
"You must be exhausted."
"Actually, I don't feel tired at
all," Joan
said surprisingly.
"I'm glad, because I've really
enjoyed your company tonight,"
Constance replied, "and
I…"
"There's something that I've wanted
to tell you but I'm not sure how to say it," Joan
abruptly
interrupted, the urgency in her tone causing
Constance
to stop mid-sentence.
"The best way is usually to just say
it,"
Constance offered
after a momentary reflection.
"I want you to know that, back in the
diner, I saw the way you were looking at
me,"
Joan
said after taking a deep breath.
"I'm not sure what you mean,"
Constance said,
keeping her own tone as neutral as possible. 'The
way I looked at you?"
"The way your eyes never really left
me," Joan
said, not feeling the need to spell it out. "You
know what I'm talking about."
Rather than follow the impulse to
deny the accusation, Constance
remained calm.
She'd been here before and already
had a set explanation for her possibly
having paid the waitress too much attention. She
was an actress after all, and it was second
nature to observe people and the roles they
played in real life.
"I might be inclined to accept that," Joan
said after hearing the explanation, her
demeanor still hard to read, "except
in
the four months I've been waiting tables
here, I've seen that same look all too
often. Usually, though, I see it on the face
of some horny soldier or sailor who's
wondering what I look like under the uniform
and if I'd be an easy lay or not."
Despite the fact that Joan had pretty
much hit the nail on the head, Constance still
didn't panic.
At worse, she would just apologize,
say goodnight, and head back to her own
room. But
not just yet.
"Just out of curiosity,"
Constance said
instead,
"lets assume that you actually saw
what you think you saw in the way that I was
looking at you. How
did that make you feel?"
A long moment passed, then two, as
Joan seemed to consider the question. That
she hadn't immediately said disgusted, Constance felt, was
a good sign.
From the expression on her face, Joan
looked as if she wasn't sure how to put what
she'd felt into words.
"Was it at least a good feeling?"
Constance further
queried, not willing to just let it go.
"I would think you already knew that
answer to that," Joan
said, this time with certainty. "I
asked you back to my home for coffee, didn't
I?"
"That you did,"
Constance agreed,
feeling like an idiot for not thinking of
that herself.
"Might I ask why?"
Without answering the question, at
least not verbally, the twenty year old
reached out with her left hand and ran her
fingers up along Constance's
bare arm.
A simple touch that sent an electric
spark through her body. She
took a deep breath, fearful that any
movement on her part might disturb the
moment.
"As I said before," Joan
continued, slowly bringing her hand back
down, "I
know I don't want a husband, but there are
times when I think I
would enjoy having a wife – even for just a
night or two."
That was certainly not the answer Constance expected. At
most, she hoped the younger woman might be
just a bit curious. Her
face
filled with an expressive mix of delight and
expectation.
She opened her mouth to say
something, but before she could Joan held up
her hand to stop her.
"No, don't say anything yet," Joan
said, her tone continuing to be firm and
strong.
"You have no idea how happy I am that
I was right about you," she
added,
backing away slightly as she did, "but
there's something I need to ask you before
we let this go any further."
"And that would be?"
Constance asked
anxiously, her own sense of excitement
overwhelming caution.
"Who
is it that I'm inviting into my bed," Joan
said
as she stood up and then turned around to
face Constance
on the couch.
"Constance Raymond, a character in an
old movie, or Carolyn Parker, the woman who
played that role?"
"Oh shit!" Carolyn
said in a low but audible voice.
"The dark hair fooled me at first," Joan
said, "but
I've seen you up on the big screen too many
times not to recognize you. Especially
since I must've seen "East of Dodge" at
least a half dozen times at the Bijou – you
know, the one where you played Constance
Raymond."
For the first time in as long as she
could remember, Carolyn was speechless.
"I'll give you a few minutes to
figure it out," Joan
said as she began to head toward the other
room. "I'm off to bed; one of you can join
me there, or not, your choice."
-=-=-=-
As she watched Joan disappear into
the bedroom, Carolyn was filled with
conflicting emotions. Constance,
her carefree alter ego, had disappeared,
replaced by her more serious Hollywood persona as
she weighed the possible consequences of
what she might do next.
Part of her cried out for her to run,
to head back to the safety of her motel
room, if not all the way back to
Los Angeles
. But,
just as strongly, another part held her in
place, intrigued by the young woman who had
spun such a tantalizing web. Follow
her heart or her head – it was a difficult
choice.
Surprisingly, she found her thoughts
drifting back to her first days in
Hollywood
,
when she was one of those would-be starlets
trying to get noticed. Needing
to pay the bills while she tried, she had
taken a job as a secretary in the offices of
an entertainment law firm.
One slow afternoon, one of the
biggest stars of the day, three time Oscar
nominee Pamela Ryan, had shown up at the
office for a meeting with the senior
partner.
As excited as Carolyn had been to
have just seen the actress in person, she
was even more astonished when the
thirty-nine year old walked all the way back
to her desk in the corner and had
audaciously asked the twenty-one year old
out to lunch.
Stunned, the younger woman stammered
a yes and followed her out the door, the
senior partner watching from the door of his
office, saying not a word.
Lunch in the restaurant of the hotel
the actress had been staying at had lasted
the rest of the afternoon, followed by a
dessert not on the menu – served in her
penthouse suite ten floors above. Carolyn
often wondered how the veteran actress had
known that she'd be receptive to joining her
in bed.
Did she see something that others
didn't, or did she simply assume that she
could have anything she wanted because,
after all, she was a star?
Still, it had been Pamela who had
gotten her a screen test, a chance to
showcase the talent that had brought her to
where she was today. Prior
to that afternoon, Carolyn couldn't have
imagined being with anyone other than a man. Since
then, while she didn't discount male
companionship totally, her preference was
usually for her own gender.
It had also been Pamela who had
instilled in her the credo that you only go
around once in life, so grab what you could,
when you could.
-=-=-=-
Sitting upright on her bed, with her
now undone hair draped across her shoulders,
Joan considered that perhaps she'd made a
mistake in revealing that she'd recognized
the actress.
It would've been easy to have just
gone along with the deception, but she
feared that she'd accidentally blurt it out
later if she had. And
that would've been definitely worse.
She'd been as honest as she could be
with Carolyn; the details she'd left out of
her story, while relevant, were not
overwhelmingly important. She
had indeed deterred the advances of other
men while
Roy
was
away, but the same couldn't be said of other
women.
Well, one woman in particular at
least.
Doris McCord had been a friend since
freshman year of high school, and worked
alongside Joan at Miller's Confections. Like
Joan, she had watched her boyfriend, Mark
Johnson, go off to war, only in his case to
the Pacific theatre. One
night, after they'd shared a bottle of wine
that Doris
had liberated from her parents liquor
cabinet, the vivacious blonde showed Joan
that girls didn't always need boys to have
fun.
Doris
taught Joan things that the eighteen year
old never imagined even married couples did
together, acts that were as pleasurable as
they were forbidden by society. Where
Doris had
learned them wasn't something she had been
willing to share.
The
affair had lasted the better part of a year,
right up to the night before Seaman Johnson
returned home.
It was right after they'd made love,
bare minutes after she'd brought Doris to orgasm,
that the older girl informed Joan that it
was over.
The previous months had indeed been
fun, but now it was time for things to go
back to the way they were supposed to be. The
problem was, Joan didn't want them to go
back.
"You might feel that way now," Doris
had said, "but that'll change once
Roy
comes home."
Despite Doris's
assurance,
Joan knew that wouldn't prove
true. What
a man and woman did in bed together was not
as much of a mystery to the redhead as her
friends and family might assume. A
few days before Roy shipped out, the
recently turned seventeen year old had
yielded to his plea that he could die over
there and surrendered what her mother
referred to as her pearl of great price. Looking
back at the momentous event, the best Joan
could say about it was that thankfully it
had been brief.
And it wasn't just her disappointment
from that night that fueled Joan's belief. Her
oldest sister had confided a similar
circumstance on her wedding night, but
claimed it did get better eventually. Until
then, she assured Joan, she would at least
have the emotional aspect of love to share
with her husband. The
problem was, what she had felt with Roy for
the almost three years they had been
together was only a pale imitation of what
she'd come to feel for Doris in a third of
that time.
So when
Roy
finally did return home months later,
expecting to pick up right where he left
off, Joan was less than enthused. Even
more
so when he expressed his opinion that since
they'd already done it, there was no reason
why they couldn't have sex before the
ceremony, scheduled two months after his
homecoming.
When Joan had disagreed, he announced
that they'd scrap the big wedding and elope
to
Mexico
instead.
-=-=-=-
Joan glanced to the right and the
wind up clock on her makeshift night table. She
was surprised that only ten minutes had
passed, but even that was long enough for
Carolyn to have been scared away. A
feeling of regret filled her, washing away
the euphoria of a short time before.
"I should've know it was too good to
be true,"
she said to herself in a low voice. "It
might as well have been just a dream."
"Don't be so quick to dismiss
dreams."
Joan snapped her head back in the
direction from which the voice had come to
find Carolyn standing in the doorway of her
bedroom.
There was a glow on her face that
Joan had seen so many times on the big
screen.
"I was afraid that you'd left," Joan
said.
Without saying a work, Carolyn
crossed the short distance between the door
and bed, sitting down on the edge of it as
she reached out with her hand and brushed
back Joan's hair from where it had fallen
and obscured part of her face. She
smiled again, then leaned forward and kissed
the younger woman softly on her lips.
"How could I walk away from someone
so beautiful?"
she said as she drew back from the
kiss.
She only got a few inches before Joan
reached up and pulled her back, initiating a
kiss of her own. One
longer and
deeper, filled with the fire of long
denied desire.
A third kiss followed the second,
with a fourth followed by a fifth until
there were too many to count. Back
and forth their mouths and tongues met,
sharing a warmth and passion that built with
each successive exchange.
A row of buttons, stretching from
just under the collar to inches above the
hem, lined the front of Joan's old fashioned
uniform.
Carolyn began working her way down
them, undoing each with deliberate care. As
the dress gave way, she smiled at the
discovery that, despite convention, the
younger woman wore only a simple bra and
bloomers beneath it.
Next she brought her hand to the edge
of Joan's neck, brushing her soft skin with
the tips of her fingers, sending a shiver of
anticipation through the young woman. It
had been too long since she'd felt the
excitement of another woman's touch.
She moved downward, tracing a line
across Joan's chest, over the simple white
bra and along her stomach, shifting slightly
to the right as to continue down her smooth
leg. A
soft sigh spilled from Joan's lips, a small
measure of her contentment.
Bringing her hand back upward, she
reached for the strap of Joan's bra, gently
sliding it down her shoulder before
repeating the action on the other side. The
redhead leaned forward, just enough to allow
the older woman to reach back, slide inside
the loosely hanging dress and unfasten the
clasp that held the undergarment in place. After
that, it took little effort to slide both
off Joan, exposing the small, rounded globes
both had concealed.
The bright pink nipples, already
erect, immediately drew Carolyn's attention
as she again ran her fingers across Joan's
chest, this time sliding along the underside
of both breasts before again brushing her
long red hair back over her shoulders with
her hand before rolling it down the length
of her arm, leaning over to place kisses
where her finger had traversed. Slowly,
lovingly, she made her way to the center of
Joan's right mound where, after kissing it
softly, she wrapped her lips around the
nipple and pulled it inside her mouth.
This time, Joan made no effort to
muffle her moan of delight, arcing her head
back against the headboard, her eyes tightly
closed as she concentrated on the sensation. Carolyn
continued
to tenderly caress her breasts with her
mouth and tongue, releasing her hold only to
duplicate her efforts on its twin. As
she did, Joan gently ran her hands through
the actress's dark hair, across her back and
then down her arm.
They kissed again, slowly,
passionately, their arms wrapped around each
other to draw their bodies near. Time
slowed as they lost themselves in each
other's eyes, forming a communion between
their souls.
"I want to look at you," Joan
whispered between kisses, stroking the side
of Carolyn's face as she spoke.
A broad smile on her face, Carolyn
pulled back and lifted herself off the bed,
taking two long steps away. She
took a moment to look down and admire the
simple beauty of the woman laid out before
her, then began to unbutton the front of her
own dress, her actions slow and deliberate. Once
the last of the dress buttons had been
undone, she slipped it off revealing the
full slip beneath. Sliding
its straps off her shoulders, she allowed
gravity to carry it to the floor.
Joan took a deep breath as she took
in the beauty of Carolyn's body, clad in the
accouterments a modern woman required. The
statuesque woman wore a long line bra atop a
hip hugging girdle, beneath which protruded
the straps of a garter belt holding her
stockings in place. Starting
with the last, Carolyn removed each item in
the same deliberate manner, sending pulses
of anticipation through the redhead, each
reflected in the look of delight on her
face.
As she watched Carolyn get down to
just her bra and panties, Joan thought
how much the tableau reminded her of a scene
from "Cry of the Night", in which the
actress had disrobed in a comparable manner
while seducing her leading man. Considered
quite risqué at the time, the scene had only
survived the censor's scissors by a
strategic fade to black before anything more
was laid bare.
Joan smiled wickedly at the thought
that tonight there was no censor to object,
or director to yell cut, allowing her to
enjoy every delightful moment.
The revealing ballet concluded and
Carolyn stood before Joan in all of her
natural beauty. Full,
firm
breasts, the areolas matching Joan's in
color but twice the size, took the younger
woman's breath away. The
rest of her body was equally perfect, making
the bevy of undergarments she'd worn seem
more for effect than necessity.
Carolyn stood there for a few long
moments, her nude body bathed in the glow of
the bedroom's sole light, a small lamp on a
makeshift night table. A
brief pause during which Joan slid her
uniform from beneath her and tossed that and
what remained of her undergarments off to
the side.
The discarded clothes had barely hit
the floor before Carolyn joined the now
equally nude Joan, who was now sitting up on
the side of the bed, and kissed her softly
on her lips.
A kiss followed by a second and third
as the brunette leaned inward and eased Joan
down onto the mattress, their lips meeting
one more time before she turned her
attention back to the younger woman's
breasts.
There was barely room for both of
them on the small bed, but neither woman was
about to complain. Their
bodies pressed tight against each other,
hands excitedly roaming across soft flesh. They
lips met again as Joan wrapped her legs
around Carolyn's waist, holding tightly as,
with her hands resting on the actress's
shoulders, she slipped her tongue deep into
Carolyn's mouth.
"Mmmmmm," Carolyn
moaned loudly, sliding her own tongue across
the length of Joan's. "Why
do I get the impression that you've done
this before?"
she asked with an inquisitive smile
as they pulled slightly back from each
other.
"I guess I have had a little
experience,"
Joan replied in turn.
"Well then," Carolyn
beamed,
"I guess we'll just have to add to
that, won't we?"
Their bodies rocked back and forth as
they continued to trade kisses, flesh
against flesh as two sets of nipples grew
hard. Joan
ran her hands up and down Carolyn's back
while the latter ran her fingers through the
former's long hair.
Carolyn turned her mouth's attention
from Joan's lips to her neck, working her
way down across it until she again had it
wrapped around one of her nipples, rolling
the tip of her tongue back and forth along
its length.
An act that brought even louder moans
of delight from the younger woman.
As Joan released her hold, Carolyn
lifted herself upward until her own breasts
hung barely an inch above the redhead's
face. An
offering she eagerly accepted, drawing the
soft treats into her mouth as she duplicated
Carolyn's performance. While
her mouth loved one hanging mound, her hand
was busy with the other, eagerly stroking
the supple flesh. Back
and forth her head moved, bestowing the same
loving attention on its twin.
Carolyn lifted herself a bit higher,
but Joan was reluctant to let her go,
placing an outstretched hand against each of
Carolyn's breasts and continuing her
ministrations.
Carolyn leaned down and kissed her
forcefully, even as she reached down in the
opposite direction and slid her own hand
into the gap between Joan's legs, putting
her palm against the lightly haired mound.
Skillfully, she slipped two fingers
deep into Joan, eliciting a long, loud moan
of satisfaction. In
and out her fingers moved, slowly at first
but quickly picking up the pace. A
third finger soon followed, adding to the
riveting waves of pleasure rolling across
the younger woman's body.
Without missing a beat, Carolyn's
mouth again found Joan's, her lips and
tongue now mirroring the beat of her
fingers.
A warming glow spread across both
their bodies, filling them with increased
desire.
"Do you like this?" Carolyn
asked, even as her hand began to glide even
faster.
"Is this what you dream of when you
lay here alone at night?"
"Yes,
yes,"
Joan gasped, barely able to control
her breaths,
"Oh God, yes!"
"What else do you dream of?" Carolyn
asked, cutting off any answer Joan might
have made with the press of her mouth. "No,
don't tell me, I'd rather figure it out on
my own."
With that she began kissing her way
down the length of Joan's naked form, down
the valley between her breasts and across
the smoothness of her stomach. With
her fingers still deep inside Joan, Carolyn
kissed the top of her sex, sliding her
tongue along its length.
"Yes…yes…yes!" Joan
echoed, the volume of her voice loud enough
to be heard by anyone in the store below, if
this had been occurring during the day – not
that she would've cared.
With meticulous care, Carolyn shared
the lessons she'd learned in numerous Hollywood boudoirs,
taught by some of the most famous names on
the screen.
Lessons that went far beyond anything
Doris had
ever shared with Joan.
Her legs spread wide and her back up
against her pillows, Joan delighted in the
joy the woman between her legs was bringing
her. A
bliss she had never imagined could be this
overwhelming, carrying her to heights
thought impossible.
Carolyn knew that if she kept going
as she was, it would only be a matter of
minutes, if that, before Joan reached a
climax.
As much as she wanted her to reach
that goal, she didn't want her to do so this
quickly.
With one final lick against her clit,
she lifted herself once more and pulled her
head from between the redhead's legs.
Grabbing her by the waist with her
free hand, she spun Joan over so that her
back was now to her – all the while not
removing her other hand from inside her. She
lifted Joan upward so that her free left
hand could now grasp her breast, even as the
other once more began to move deeper within. Joan
had to use both hands to support herself,
leaning forward while Carolyn left a trail
of kisses down her back.
Carolyn raised her left hand to the
side of Joan's face, tilting it back far
enough for them to again share a kiss. At
the same time, no longer needing both of her
own for support, Joan brought her right down
between her legs, rubbing her clit even as
Carolyn now pressed four fingers inside her. To
and fro they rocked, kissing, caressing,
fucking – bringing Joan to a plateau even
higher than the one she'd imagined only
short minutes before.
"When was the last time you had an
orgasm?"
Carolyn whispered into Joan's ear. "With
someone else, I mean."
Joan's answer shocked Carolyn, unable
to imagine going months without a lover,
much less years. She
redoubled her efforts, slamming her hand
into Joan's pussy with an almost frightening
intensity.
Using her other hand, she pushed
Joan's upper body down against the mattress,
running her tongue across her ass as her
fingers became a blur. In
response, Joan moaned louder and louder.
"Fuck me," she cried out, "fuck me
harder!"
And fuck her Carolyn did, pressing
her body down on top of Joan, close enough
to feel the tremors resonating throughout. Joan
was close, so very close.
And then, with the fury of a
thunderclap, Joan's body exploded, causing
every inch of it to quiver with
satisfaction.
-=-=-=-
Joan laid across the bed as one dead,
her body totally drained. None
of the orgasms she had shared with Doris, satisfying as
they had been, had ever prepared her for
what Carolyn had just given her. She
couldn't imagine being able to return the
gift – but she was damn sure going to try.
Still, it was going to take a little
time for her to recuperate and make the
attempt, a pause during which Carolyn rested
her head on the flat of Joan's stomach. Eyes
closed,
they shared the warmth of each other's body.
"That,"
Joan said nearly a half hour later,
"was the most amazing experience of my
life."
"It was fun, wasn't it?" Carolyn
said with a smile as she lifted her head up.
"I don't think fun is a powerful
enough word to describe it," Joan
replied, her own face filled with a broad
grin.
"Care to give it another go and try
and find a word that does?" Carolyn
asked, lifting her body up into a sitting
position.
"Do I ever," Joan
gushed as, bringing her own body up, she
slipped a hand across Carolyn's shoulder
and, placing the flat of it against her
back, pulled the dark haired woman close
enough to kiss.
A second hand followed the first,
converging on the base of Carolyn's neck as
they shared one kiss after another. Carolyn
brought her own hand against Joan's breasts,
squeezing them softly. Her
hungry
lips soon replaced her hands, the hardness
of Joan's nipples disappearing into her
mouth.
But, after only a minute, Joan
lifted Carolyn's mouth away from her breast
and brought it back to her own. A
quick kiss followed, after which Joan eased
the older woman onto her back, her mouth
working its way down across Carolyn's neck
to her breast.
Duplicating the delights the brunette
had bestowed on her, Joan brought her lips
to Carolyn's nipples and her extended hand
down between her legs.
Gently, skillfully, she probed
Carolyn's inner reaches, seeking out her
most sensitive spots, guided by the
frequency and volume of the older woman's
moans.
She quickly developed a pleasing
rhythm, one that sent waves of joy radiating
across Carolyn's body.
Carolyn laid back, content to let
Joan have her way. She
closed her eyes and let the ripples of bliss
washing over her carry her away. Her
hands
came up to her breasts, massaging the soft
flesh even as Joan slipped four fingers even
deeper inside her. At
one point, she diverted one of her own hands
toward her pussy, only to have it pushed
away by Joan. This
was something she wanted to do on her own.
Faster and faster Joan's hand moved,
quickly becoming a blur. Carolyn's breaths
grew shallow, her moans shorter but more
intense.
The smile of satisfaction on Joan's
face grew wider as she shifted position and
added the thrust of her tongue to that of
her fingers.
For a fleeting moment, as the sweet
nectar of Carolyn's joy filled her mouth,
Joan recalled her reaction the first time Doris had suggested
she do this to her. At
first, she had reluctantly agreed, as it
only seemed fair since her friend had
already done so for her. It
hadn't taken long, however, for her to
realize that it was one of the most
delightful acts she could have ever
imagined.
"I'm…I'm…gonna…" Carolyn
panted, unable to fully complete the
sentence, at least not verbally.
Her body told the tale, however, and
Joan was quick to react. Watchful not to
miss a stroke, she again changed position to
allow her to kiss Carolyn one last time. It
was a never ending kiss, one that carried
right into the orgasm that engulfed Carolyn
less than a dozen breaths later. A
small orgasm, perhaps, but one none the less
delightful.
Carolyn's body had barely stopped
quivering when she was back on Joan. Feverishly,
they continued to exchange kisses and
caresses, rubbing their bodies together. Back
and forth they rocked, each burying a hand
between the other's legs, rubbing furiously.
It was as close to heaven as Joan
could imagine, and while Carolyn wouldn't go
to that extreme, she would say it was far
more than she ever expected. The
mutual delights they eventually brought each
other were a gift to be long treasured.
-=-=-=-
Lying with her face only inches from
the wall, Carolyn slowly opened her eyes. It
took a few moments for her to remember where
she was, but once she did, she immediately
rolled over – only to find the space next to
her in the bed empty.
"Good, you're awake," she
heard Joan say from the other side of the
room.
Swinging her legs over the side of
the bed, Carolyn reflexively wrapped the
loose sheet around her body, then thought
with some amusement that, after last night,
false modesty was hardly called for. Relaxing
her hold, the cloth fell away as she rose to
her feet, leaving her again naked.
"I did promise you coffee, didn't I?" Joan
said as, equally nude, she stepped over to
the older woman with a steaming mug in her
hand.
"Oh, that smells delicious," Carolyn
said as she carefully took hold of the mug
and lifted it to her mouth. "Tastes
wonderful
too," she
added after taking a sip.
Joan smiled, turning back to the
hotplate on which she had brewed the coffee
and poured herself a cup. Just
as carefully, she took a sip of the hot
liquid.
Silence hung in the air for what
seemed the longest time as, in an
incongruous scene, the two naked women stood
in the center of the room enjoying their
coffee.
Finally, Carolyn broke the stillness.
"Joan, I just want to say that last
night was…"
she said, then paused, unsure of
exactly what she wanted to say. "Last
night was…"
"Last night was what it was," Joan
said, completing the thought. "It
was wonderful, but it doesn't have to be
anything more than we want it to be – or
not."
"Still…" Carolyn
added a few long moments later, recalling a
thought she'd had sometime in the middle of
the night.
"I was thinking…"
"Yes?"
Joan asked.
"I was thinking that, when I head
back to Los Angeles, you might be interested
in coming along with me," she
finished.
"Hmmmm," Joan
murmured as she took another long sip of the
now cooler brew. "And
what would I do there?"
"Work,"
Carolyn said, realizing what her
offer might have initially sounded like.
"For you?" Joan
further inquired.
Carolyn opened her mouth, then
hesitated.
A good number of her peers, of both
sexes, employed personal assistants whose
duties included things that would be quite
out of place on their resumés. In
a few cases, it was their only
responsibility.
Even though she had only known Joan
little more than a day, Carolyn had learned
enough about her to be fairly certain that
sort of arrangement wouldn't be the sort of
thing she'd be interested in. And
to be honest, she didn't think she would
want an assistant of that sort either. She
enjoyed the variety playing the field
brought her too much.
"I'm not sure that would be such a
good idea,"
Carolyn finally said, pleased when
the look on Joan's face said that she really
didn't think so either, "but
I know a lot of people in the industry, I'm
sure that one of them would be more than
happy to find a place for an enterprising
young woman."
"We are talking a real job here,
right?"
Joan said, wanting to make it clear
that she wasn't looking to be anyone's
personal bed warmer.
"Absolutely," Carolyn
said, easily catching her concern. "In
fact, the gentleman I'm now thinking of
doesn't even like girls, but he is a
darling."
"Well then, what do I have to lose?" Joan
said as she put her cup down on the nearby
table and took a few steps closer to her
guest.
"It's not like I have a wealth of
opportunity here."
While she definitely wouldn't have
said that out loud, Carolyn certainly agreed
with that.
"You're leaving Monday, right?" Joan
asked.
"Well, that's when Curtis said my car
would be ready, so Tuesday would be a better
bet," Carolyn
replied, thinking that Joan was asking how
long she would have to get her things
together.
In that, she was wrong.
"So we have two, almost three whole
days,"
Joan said as she reached out and took
the near empty mug out of Carolyn's hand and
put it down next to hers. "How
ever will we pass the time?"
It took a moment for the implication
of what Joan had just asked to sink in.
"Oh, I'm sure we can find something
to keep us busy," Carolyn
replied as she leaned forward and met Joan's
approaching lips with her own.
As they met, Carolyn couldn't help
but think that this had certainly turned out
to be one creek where it had been fortunate
indeed not to have had a paddle.