Ron and Julie Feldman had become, in seven years of hard work, two of the hardest working press agents in the business – and show business wasn't an easy business to hack. While they had achieved some success, it was not spectacular. Their clients worked, well and hard, and attained a certain amount of fame and standing in the business.
But they were after bigger gains – they needed a star, an idol or two. They wanted a boy and a girl. Their plans were to make the boy into the new David Cassidy, a teen idol adored by millions – which would make them million. They needed to touch the Hollywood industry as well as the New York-Chicago-Miami-Las Vegas scene that they were already very much a part of.
Their clients were mostly singers, nightclub stars, New York actors and actresses, and a few local TV personalities – soap opera types. They wanted the David Cassidy type to break into network television and films, which would open up anew area to them. They were doing well in the small time, but they weren't satisfied – they wanted to be in the big time.
And they wanted to be in the big time in another area also – the Las Vegas clubs. They wanted to handle a star of one of the finest showrooms – they wanted a headliner! They'd had enough of lounge acts and fillers for the real stars. They wanted their own.
Linda Travis was a "budding talent", destined to follow in her famous mother's footsteps. So said one critic after she had appeared at a small New York club. Shortly before her mother's death, she had joined the adored woman onstage during a concert, and together they had sung a medley of songs about love and friendship, stressing the theme that they were pals. But the truth was something else again.
Susan Travis had been a pill-popping, raving bitch who had no time for her daughter except to pose for publicity stills and when she was in the hospital either drying out or recovering from "food poisoning" – meaning another suicide attempt. Linda was perhaps destined to step into her mother's shoes, but she wasn't ready to be like the lady.
Her career had been going nowhere. She was riding along on her mother's fame. She'd tried a Broadway show which flopped – the critics said she was a triumph, the play a disaster – and now had found Ron and Julie to guide her career. They aimed for Vegas. Full time, main show, top money. She was the "totally new" Lindy Travis, who indeed was walking in her mother's footsteps and, as Ron hoped the critics would say, would walk beyond what her famous and talented mother had done.
She was a gentle girl, pretty, slim, with dark eyes and a heavy smile that she used only when sincere. There was nothing dishonest about her. She was a workhorse, a glutton for punishment when it came to her career, and lately she had been spending her days doing nothing but rehearsing her act for the Vegas opening. Ron had worked fast, hustling his ass all over Vegas, Miami and New York, cashing in on the emotional image of the girl's dead-but-still-loved mother. The money had come. The director was hired, the dancers ready, the songs selected, the date get. Rehearsal to perfection was the word now.
Lindy came home to her small apartment, fed her cat, turned on the TV and curled up on the couch with a sandwich she'd picked up at the deli. It had been a rough day, and she hadn't had much sleep the night before – she was addicted to old movies, and she'd often take a pill to keep her up, but then would have trouble falling asleep. Now and then she took a Valium, which relaxed her, or a Nembutal, to make her sleep – but not too many. She remembered her mother well. She remembered her mother overdosed on Seconal.
She ate her sandwich as she watched a re-run of I Love Lucy. Lucy was in Hollywood with Ricky and Fred and Ethel – and they were hysterically funny. Just as the show ended, the phone rang.
"Hello," she said, still chewing on her pastrami-on-rye.
"Lindy, this is Gerry. You took my script by mistake – can you check?"
Lindy looked at the script she had carried home. Sure enough, a chorus script, not hers. "Gerry, yeah, it's yours. I'm sorry. I grabbed the last one on the table."
"My fault, I had grabbed yours. Can I bring it over and switch?"
"Sure, great, I'm just watching TV."
"Ten minutes. 'Bye." Click.
Gerry was one of the dancers in the show, who also had a few lines in a skit with Lindy about Women's Liberation. She had grown to like the boy in the week they had been working together, although they weren't close by any means. Most of the kids were afraid to approach her – because of her famous mother, she seemed like something not quite real. They had grown up reading about her and now they were working, with her – or was it for her? – and it was a strange position to be in.
But Gerry was different – warm, outgoing, as if the "star's daughter" complex hadn't hit him or didn't faze him. And Lindy liked that.
Just as Casablanca started, Gerry arrived. Lindy let him in and immediately said, "You must remember this…"
Gerry looked at her strangely. "What?"
"A kiss is still a kiss!" Lindy sang as she closed the door.
Gerry got it. He held out his hands and sang, "A sigh is just a sigh!"
They both started laughing. "Casablanca's on, wanna watch?" Lindy asked.
"Love to. I don't even have a TV."
They sat on the couch, facing the color television. Gerry looked around. No pictures of the famous Susan on the walls. But the place was expensively furnished. It was quite a change from his shabby fourth-floor walkup. But then, she was Lindy Travis and he was only a dancer.
After about fifteen minutes and some wine, Gerry started leaning against Lindy's shoulder. She didn't move. Then he put his arm on her thigh. She didn't move. He kicked off his shoes, curled his feet upon the couch, and played with her hair. She didn't move.
Finally he reached over and kissed her lightly on her neck. She turned to him and said, "I thought you were a fag!"
"What?" the good-looking, husky boy said.
"You're a dancer!"
"Jesus, you think all dancers are fags?"
She giggled. "All of them in the show are."
"All but one. Me." He put his arm around her and pulled her close. For one moment it flashed through his mind – What am I doing? This is Lindy Travis. I must be nuts! – and then he dismissed it. She was a girl and he was a guy, a very horny guy. And seeing this gal dance every day in her body suit was enough to make him split his dance belt.
"Kiss me," he said, and she turned her head and kissed him. Not hard, not lightly, just right. Then he slid his face down to her neck and started nibbling.
"Gerry, the movie…"
"Fuck the movie," Gerry said as he opened her blouse and found her beautiful young tits. He took one in his lips and sucked on it gently. In a moment Lindy had forgotten about the movie and was sinking under the strong boy's caresses.
"I wanna fuck you so bad," he said softly, licking her ear. They rolled around on the floor for a few minutes, hugging and pressing their bodies to each other, nibbling and kissing. Then he pulled her blouse from her body and opened her pants. He slid his hand down the front and found her cunt easily – and just as easily he slid his middle finger up her.
"Oh, wow," Lindy gasped, moving her ass back and forth to make his finger move inside her hot pussy.
"You're burning up in there," Gerry said, and started tugging on her pants with his other hand. In a moment he had them down over her ass, and then he pulled his finger from her cunt and grabbed her underpants and pulled them down, too. Finally they came off her feet and she lay there on the floor of her apartment, stark naked. She brought her feet up and showed him her cunt, spreading it with her fingers. "That's what you wanted to see, right?" she said lewdly.
"That's right. Now I'll show you what you wanna see." He stood up, took off his shirt, unzipped his pants and took off his socks. He pulled his pants down over his knees and off his feet. He stood there in his shorts. "Pull them down and see what's inside," he said.
Lindy reached up and grabbed the elastic band of his underwear, but he stopped her. "With your teeth, honey," he said gruffly, spreading his legs, planting his arms on his hips.
Lindy blinked and got to her knees. She grabbed his thighs and pressed her breasts against them – the tip of her nipples felt like pins poking against her flesh – and took the band of his undershorts in her teeth and pulled down till his cock fell out and his shorts were down to his feet. Then she knelt up and gasped. His cock was the thickest she'd ever seen, and she had seen a few; her mother's lovers' when she was young and those of the few guys she had fucked in the past two yearn since she had lost her virginity. It was fist-size at the tip and grew even flitter at the base. The slit in the tip was huge, arid his balls were gigantic. It was the thickest dick she'd ever seen.
"Like it?" he asked.
She nodded and grabbed it in her hand, fondling it in front of her face.
"Gets big from all the exercise we dancers get. That's why all the guys like to suck on it."
"Guys?" she asked.
"Sure, those queens in the company have me for lunch. What's a blowjob? A mouth's a mouth."
She didn't answer. She fell back to the floor and spread her legs out. "Okay, you bisexual bastard, fuck me with the cock the boys chew on."
He grinned as he fell to his knees. "Lindy, I only like fucking girls. That's what counts. And I wanna fuck you so bad…"
He was gentle again, himself, the Gerry she knew and liked. He positioned his cock at the opening of her hairy young hole. She held it there, steady, ready. And he pushed down, shoving his enormously thick penis into her cunt all the way up to his heavy balls.
"Far out!" Lindy said, pulling him down to her. She hadn't, been screwed in almost two months and her pussy had been aching for it. What was happening should have surprised her, but it somehow seemed very natural. Guy in the show, she likes him, he comes over and fucks her. They both like it – and maybe Vegas won't be so lonely after all!
Lindy held tightly as he pressed his mouth to hers, holding his cock with her cunt lips, holding his shoulders with her hands. He had a perfectly developed dancer's body, and he was hairy, too, which she liked. She liked men, real men with hair and a cock and balls, men who knew how to fuck!
And this man knew how to fuck. He slammed into her a few times and then rolled over so they were on their sides. She lifted her leg and he reached down and held it up and started screwing his body around so his cock roamed and prodded every inch of her burning pussy. He would shove in and out a few times with great force, then stop and let his dick swim around in the wetness, then start up again. Finally he had her on her knees, on all fours, and he was behind her like a dog, giving it to her from the back. She reached under and felt her pussy lips clasping his dick.
"Fuck me hard, Gerry! Come off in me! Now, please!"
"Lindy, spread your legs farther, yeah, that's it…"
"Pump it hard, please! God! It's incredible! Fuck me with that fat dick!"
"I'm gonna come!" Gerry pumped his cock into her with such force he had to hold her so she wouldn't be knocked down across the room. His flesh slapped against her ass and his balls dangled between his legs. She reached far down and grabbed them and pulled on them.
"That hurts! Harder, harder! Pull on my nuts! I'm shooting!"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Lindy screamed, pulling on his heavy throbbing balls. She felt the final thrust into her cunt and then the burning sensation deep inside. She ran her fingers along her cunt lips, over the base of his dick, and felt the cum starting to slide out of her box. She heard him muttering and moaning, telling her how great it had been. She felt the heat from their bodies and looked up to see her cat staring at them, and then closed her eyes.
It had been great. But she hadn't come.
A few hours later, after Casablanca had finished, they lay in bed together. On a whim, Gerry asked, "What do you want to do most in life?"
Lindy didn't have to think about an answer, it was on the tip of her tongue. "To be a bigger star than Mother ever was."
She said it with determination.