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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: pepatty.txt (FF, orgy, 1st-lesbian expr)
Authors name: Star Dust Memories (address withheld)
Story title : Peppermint Patty
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
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Thank you for your consideration.
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Peppermint Patty (FF, orgy, 1st-lesbian expr)
by Star Dust Memories (address withheld by request)
***
A famous actress seduces a small town girl in Vegas.
***
Taking a sip of her drink, Patricia looked at the couple
seated at the next table over the rim of her glass. The
man was just a few inches short of being handsome while
the woman he was sitting with was six miles beyond being
beautiful. Sitting her drink down, she turned her head to
look at the man who sat beside her with a small smile
tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Let me guess," he said before she had a chance to say
anything. "You want a taste of that blonde dish at the
next table, right pumpkin?"
Patricia laughed softly, touching her fingers to his
sleeve. "You know me far too well, Max! You're supposed
to be a talent agent, not some fucking gypsy with a
crystal ball. Who is she?"
"A singer with a decent voice," he shrugged. "That's her
husband with her and they haven't been in town long. He
plays piano backup for her, but they should have stayed
in Kansas or wherever the hell they're from. They might
get a few club dates in some of the piano bars on the
strip, but she'll never make it big. Not with hubby glued
to her ass like he is."
"Hmmm," Patricia glanced at the blonde again. "Maybe
someone could figure out how to unglue the husband from
her pretty ass. Think she could make it on her own with a
little help from her friends Max?"
"Probably...for sure if you're the 'friend' you're
talking about. But she's small town, Patty. It would
probably blow her mind if another woman made a move on
her. She just doesn't seem that type."
"Poor dear Max," Patricia smiled at the portly, slightly
balding man who had been her agent for the past ten
years. "You can be so na‹ve at times. Any woman alive is
"that type" if they are properly introduced to the idea.
Would you like to make a little wager with me, Maxie?
I'll bet you a thousand bucks I can have her kneeling
between my legs inside of three days!"
Maxwell Rheinholt sighed audibly. "Damn it Patricia...why
do you keep putting your fucking career on the line like
this? You got a good thing going with the TV spot and all
the commercials. You know what would happen if word got
out that you swing both ways? Besides, what's the
attraction with little Miss country from Bugfuck Iowa?
You could get just about any of those plastic beauties
you pal around with between the sheets easily enough!"
"That's the problem, darling...it's too easy! I like them
sweet and dewy eyed, innocent and just off of the farm!.
It's the thrill of the hunt I guess that makes it for me.
But don't feel sorry for her Max. By the time I'm done
with her, she'll have a permanent smile on those pretty
lips of hers! C'mon Maxie...we're in 'Vegas...life isn't
anything but a crapshoot in this town anyway! Fuck it!
You taking the bet or not?"
"Hunh! Maybe...but how you gonna prove it, sweetheart? No
way I take your word for it!"
"I'll make sure you're there to see it Maxie. Maybe I can
work it so you even get in on the action." She laughed
aloud, teasingly. "Oh shit! I guess I forgot! You're a
happily married man, aren't you honey? I forgot about
Joanne. And anyway, I'm sure you wouldn't want to have
sex with a beautiful young blonde from Bugfuck Iowa,
right?"
"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," Max said,
grinning and glancing at the woman they had been
discussing. "You're on, babe," he said after a minute.
"...It's a bet! Just be careful, will ya?"
"I'm always careful, Max...now go away."
Patricia watched Max as he made his way through the small
tables that crowded the private bar on the seventh floor
of the huge casino. This particular bar was reserved for
the entertainers and VIP's that demanded privacy away
from the autograph hounds and the paparazzi. Other than a
few brief hellos', everyone was safe from unwanted
intrusions. There were several burly men stationed around
the room that made sure of it. She motioned for one of
them to come to her table. Indicating that he should bend
down a bit, she spoke softly into his ear. "May I ask you
for a favor?"
"Anything at all," the burr haired man said instantly.
"You're one of my favorites."
She gave him one of her famous, dazzling smiles. "Aren't
you sweet. Tell me. The couple at the table behind me?
The blonde woman? How did they get in here?"
He glanced quickly over his muscular shoulder. "Her name
is Diane something or other," he said. "She's opening in
the main floor lounge next week. I heard her singing
earlier this evening. Not too bad."
"I see," Patricia said, fumbling around inside her small
evening bag and handing a silver embossed card to him.
"Would you please wait until I'm out of the room then
give her this card and tell her that I enjoyed her
singing earlier this evening and would like for her to
give me a call one evening this week? Tell their waiter
to put their bill on my tab as well please." As she
handed him the card, she pressed a folded hundred-dollar
bill into his hand.
"No problem," he said. "Thank you."
Taking a final sip of her martini, Patricia gathered up
her purse and stood up. Deliberately turning to face the
table where the blonde and her husband were sitting, she
waited until she caught the woman eyes and gave her that
thousand-watt smile that had adorned several well-known
magazines. Then turning, she glided catlike across the
floor towards the exit, fully aware of the hungry eyes
that were mentally undressing her.
*
"Did you see who that was?" Diane Jackson punched her
husband lightly on the arm. "She smiled right at me too.
I can't believe it! Gee...she's so beautiful!"
"Believe it, kiddo," Carl said as he squeezed her hand.
"She must have heard you sing or something! A woman like
that knows talent when she hears it!" He looked up as one
of the tuxedo-clad guys who seemed to be watching the
room approached their table. "Now what? We've got the
right to be in here," he muttered, sotto voice.
"Excuse me ma'am," the muscular man bowed towards Diane,
"I was asked to give you this card and the lady asked if
you might call her one evening this week? She said she
enjoyed your singing earlier. And by the way, she has
taken care of your check." Without waiting for any
response, he turned and glided swiftly away.
"It's her card," Diane said weakly, showing it to Carl.
"Why would she want me to call her? I don't understand."
"This could be it, baby," Carl said quickly. "This could
be your big break! You heard the man...she liked your
singing! That bitch has got more connections with people
in show business than Bayer's got aspirin! But listen
baby...you can't act too fucking anxious, okay? You're
gonna wait a few days before you call her! This is
Tuesday. You can call her Friday evening."
"Okay," Diane responded, her mind in a whirl. There was
no way she was going to wait until Friday. No way! She
turned to her husband. "Listen honey, she took care of
our check and all, so we have some extra money. Why don't
you go play some more blackjack and I'll go up to the
room and rest a little. I have a small headache from all
the excitement."
"Okay honey, if that's what you want. Maybe I'll win a
bundle this time. How would that be, sweetheart?" His
stomach was churning with the thought of hitting the
tables again. He was sure his system would work if her
played it right! "I'll be up stairs in a couple of hours,
okay honey?"
*
Once inside the hotel room, Diane sat on the edge of the
bed, the telephone within easy reach. Kicking off her
heels, she tucked her legs under her and picked up the
phone. Her fingers were trembling slightly as she punched
in the numbers from the small card. It was answered after
the very first ring.
"Hello?"
"H..hello...I'm sorry to disturb you...my name is Diane.
Diane Jackson? You sent me your card downstairs in the
VIP lounge?"
"Oh yes," Patricia said lightly. "I'm so glad you
called." She was laying on her bed in lace panties and
bra, cradling the phone against her ear with one hand
while the other hand slid down her stomach and under the
waistband of the panties. "I wasn't expecting a call
quite so soon," she said as she curved her fingers down
into the hollow of her crotch. "But I'm very glad you
did. I was lying here on my bed all by myself, bored out
of my mind."
"You are bored?!?" Diana asked in astonishment. "But
you're famous," she said inanely."
Patricia laughed as she light stroked the fleshy lips of
her cunt. "Believe me dear...famous people can get bored
as well. But tell me...where is your husband?"
"Playing blackjack I think. Thanks for taking care of our
check by the way. I won't get paid for two weeks and
we're a little short."
"You should do well singing in the lounge, dear. You have
a very sweet voice I've been told."
"Told? I thought you told that guy in the lounge that you
heard me sing earlier."
"I did hear you," Patricia lied, thinking quickly. "But I
was just passing by so I didn't hear it all that well.
It's just that my agent heard you too and he said you had
a very sweet voice."
"Agent? Like in talent agent?"
"Yes...perhaps I can get him to help you in your career
if you like."
"Oh wow...yes...please..."
"Listen...it's only a little after ten...would you like
to come here to my room so we could talk about it?"
"I..I guess so...sure....why not? What room are you in?"
"The penthouse, dear...I'm in the penthouse. But listen
Diane...I sort of protect my privacy. Is there any real
need for you to inform your husband where you'll be?"
"Not really. Especially if he's winning. Then you
couldn't pry him away from the table! He has a system."
"Of course he does," Patricia laughed softly.
"Oh...Diane? You haven't changed clothes yet have you?"
"Changed clothes?"
"I was hoping you were still wearing that cute red
cocktail dress you had on downstairs. It is so sexy."
Patricia almost held her breath as she waited for the
girl to reply. She had just made the opening gambit in
this little game of chess, telling the girl she wanted
her to come up to the penthouse looking sexy.
"No problem...I'm on my way!"
"And so am I," Patricia said aloud as she hung up the
phone and then reluctantly pulled her hand out of her
panties, reaching for the casino furnished terry cloth
robe. "And so am I."
End of chapter one
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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