Pauline Nottee - Action backstage

"Thanks." There was no need to say more. It usually took ten years to get stripes. Whatever he had done was right. "Anything more?"

"I'm going out. Phone me in sick."

Sgt. Vance Dawson hung up. He showered, scrubbing the too-short sleep from his eyes. He debated his course of action. He might be onto something, or nothing more than a piece of sweet ass if he was lucky, and he decided to cover himself. He phoned the narco squad of the Los Angeles Police and asked for a cover on Candy Mullender. Then he dressed in civilian clothes and got his car out and headed south, using his radio to alert all substations and police departments to be on the lookout for the kid in the car. He told them to cold-trail, stay back. He asked for an unmarked follow car and got it. He floored the powerful car and made a vow-he was going to fuck Candy Mullender so hard she'd forget she ever saw that skinny kid!

Happily unaware of the situation which was building around him, Rick Benton lay over the back of the sleek afro-haired black girl, his spent cock softening in the hot circle of her tightly throbbing rectum. One thing about Jonie, he thought… she could talk straight with a cock up her ass!

"I still say you should get her out to the neighborhood and gang-bang the shit out of her, and then I'll eat up her pussy and make her feel good," Jonie argued.

"No fucking way!" the boy retorted. "I can make her any way I want on her own turf, but take her to the ghetto and she's gonna get so fucking uptight… no, I got the pad now. I can get her there okay… she wants a place to fuck. Just you line up the guys. We'll bang her senseless-but I take her away- shit, I rescue her, and she's all over me. Dig?"

"You got a fucking brain, Rick," she admitted, wriggling out from under his weight and slowly opening her legs. Her slim fingers parted the soft, dark-hair fringed flanges of her cunt and she said, "Eat me a little-didn't cum."

"Shit," he muttered. "Well, I'll fix that!"

He took a mouthful of straight bourbon whiskey and burrowed down between her widespread young thighs, fastening his lips tight to her cuntal mouth. He squirted the burning liquor far up her fluid-heated cunt and listened to her scream as it seared her most sensitive flesh. Slowly he began to let it ooze, drop by drop, onto his delving tongue. It was damn good practice for Candy Mullender.

They left the motel before 8 a.m. There was coastal fog and Rick put up the convertible top. He gave only passing attention to various police and sheriff's cars. He was well within the speed limit, and moving with city-bound traffic. There was no reason to notice the small red sports car, which passed him from time to time, and was passed in turn, except to think it would be nice to have a car like that some day. Jonie fished his cock out of his pants and tried to suck it, but he shoved her head out of his lap. He had to concentrate on his driving. And her mouth wasn't as sweet as her asshole. They had stayed awake most of the night. Candy-and Jonie still didn't know who Candy was-was all set up.

Rick Benton thought he had figured all the angles. He would use his buddies, and Jonie. He would move Candy into a position where, between her wild lust for his young virile body and the threat of losing everything she had, would make him incredibly rich overnight.

Really hand him the key to a showbiz career of his own. And, if he worked it right, she'd never know how she'd been used. All he had to do was fuck her, keep her happy, and let her think that whatever went wrong was just bad luck.

Rick liked Candy Mullender. Nice girl with a nice, hot pussy and a lot of money and connections. If he could just keep her on her knees, begging, it would be beautiful.

Far from having a damaging effect on her as an actress, Candy Mullender discovered her affair with Rick was beneficial. With her body contented, she was more at ease, and she would have a new number down right in much less time than before. At first she had been afraid she'd give him away by the way she looked at the boy when others were around, but she found it possible to act normally, maybe because she had always been genuinely friendly and courteous with everyone.

The horse turned out to be a stroke of genius. The agency publicity department got wind of it and decided that the beast would make a nice counterpoint to Candy's normal image.

The hideout apartment was also perfect for the purpose. Thick shrubbery concealed comings and goings, and it was sound-proof. She and Rick spent a lot of time in it during the ensuing weeks. From time to time he brought friends, including a stunning black girl named Jonie. Candy sensed something with the girl but could not pin it down. She finally decided Jonie had probably been Rick's girl before she took him over and was resentful… yet it didn't seem to be quite that.

Candy had been nervous the first time Rick announced they would have guests. She had argued against it, but he out-talked her, pointing out that they couldn't hide forever, and it would be wise to see if she could fool his friends by altering her appearance. They were of the same age group as the great mass of fans, and, if they didn't recognize her, then nobody would. Accordingly, Candy bought a wig, a blonde one styled differently than her own hair, and wore dark-tinted contact lenses over her violet eyes. Just those things and reshaping her generous mouth with heavy lipstick did the job perfectly.

After the first visit, Candy was completely at ease, and would get a silent chuckle when the teenagers would get to talking about her latest movie or TV spot. She discovered they were rough kids, because of the conditions in which they lived. But it was recognized that she was Rick's property, and she wasn't molested. The only one who ever touched her was Jonie, and that made Candy a little uncomfortable-having even the suggestion of a caress from another female-but she put it down to the girl trying to be overly friendly because she'd been cold at first. But a couple of things bothered her.

Sometimes they brought beer and liquor and drank, although they didn't get noisy drunk. And, on a few occasions, she had come in to sniff the acrid odor of marijuana in the apartment. At this, she protested vigorously, but again allowed Rick to calm her.

"Candy, everybody smokes," he said. "Take three deep breaths at the next shooting, and you'll be high yourself. It's not a hard time rap any more-maybe a fifty buck fine if anybody bothers to bust you."

"A fifty-buck fine for you." she snapped back. "For Candy Mullender, actress, what is it? It's Candy's ass! Headlines in the paper saying, ACTRESS STAGES TEENAGE POT PARTY! that's what it'll be!"

"Shit! There's never more than a couple of sticks. Nobody's holdin' or dealin'… we can't get busted here because the narcs would have to come pounding up two flights of steps, and it's all down the crapper. We'll burn incense."

Candy could not prevail against his thinking. She was;afraid to press it for fear he'd walk out of her life, and that she'd rebound and be grabbed by some real heel. Rick's lifestyle had changed for the better, but at least lie wasn't stealing from her. He accounted for everything and-to her great surprise-insisted on paying for the expensive guitar out of his salary. He said he had bought it when he had the chance to get it cheap. The car, clothes, and spending money he accepted as gifts, and it was tacitly understood that, in time, he would inherit the truck, horse, trailer and tack. But the guitar seemed to be a point of honor with him. She knew she would never understand the young mind.

Several times he played the guitar and sang to her, and Candy found herself wincing. He was not great as a singer, and, as a guitarist, he had two left hands. She tried to be tactful, casually mentioning how tough it was to reach star status, and moving on to how much more money was to be made in the business end.