This story was written as just that, a story, not just an erotic rambling. If your looking for a piece in quick porn, this is probably not the one for you. If your looking for a story, larger in length with more character development, then this is certainly for you. I hope you enjoy the piece, I sure loved writing it :)
Star smoothed her hair out self-consciously, peering in the mirror at her reflection and making a little face. Yes, Star. Her parents had named her in their last years of hippie-ness, and, fortunately for her, she really liked the name. Star was short, maybe 5'2" or there about, she stopped measuring herself when she turned 13 and realized she'd never grow another inch. She had waist-length dark coffee-brown hair that hung in large curls that clung to her curves like velcro, her large liquid eyes were a startling light golden toffee color, and her complexion was a soft cream with a hint of molasses stirred in.
Heaving a little sigh, Star replaced the barrette that held her hair back from her face, letting a couple of tendrils escape to give that windblown look that seemed to fit her small round face perfectly. She strapped on an apron over her cut-off blue jean shorts and her toffee-brown tank top. Giving one last look at her face in the mirror to make sure her make-up was flawless enough to be unnoticeable, she opened the bathroom door and strode out.
Almost immediately she saw Stan, her boss, at the little mom-and-pop pizza house she worked at from 4-10:30 every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. The rest of the week she got off around eight o'clock, but started much earlier.
"Hey, Stan!" She give a cheerful wave, grinning a little at him as she wandered by. "I'm off my break now." At her words Stan checked his watch, and then gave a little nod.
"Table 14 is running out of drinks and El went for her break. Can you handle them?" he asked quietly.
"'Course," she said, giving a little shrug.
Table 14 was the rowdy crowd of boys Stanzeria's always got on Friday nights. Maybe "boys" was the wrong word—I guess one could call them "men"; however, that would be a stretch so far as Star was concerned. As she headed toward them, they gave a few catcalls and generally harassed her, causing a small smile to tug at her lips.
"Settle down, settle down, boys," she said when she stopped beside the table, "How you doing tonight? Needing any refills?" she asked in her chipper work voice.
"Dr. Pecker for me." One raised his glass, giving a self-satisfied smirk at his little joke; the rest of the boys laughed and cheered him on.
"I get it, I get it," she said, laughing along with them and counting the number of drinks. "Back in a minute." With that, she took off to get the many refills.
Star was 18, but barely, and despite her parents' earlier hippyish ways she was raised in a rather conservative manner. She had done all her homework, made A's and B's in school, and had managed to get into U of O in Eugene, Oregon, where she was living, working, and studying the arts and literature. Her parents lived in the more populated area northward from Eugene in Portland, and managed to drive down and check on her occasionally.
Stan didn't pay her an amazing amount of money, but her tips did bring a rather good living. Besides, she also had substantial income coming from her parents, who'd set aside a good trust fund for her in their earlier years. She had a small studio apartment down 11th street. All in all, she didn't have too much time to herself; it was too taken up with working and studying. Sure, plenty of men would come on to her, smile, wave, even approach if they were feeling adventurous, but after the first 6 months of school, most soon realized it was a hopeless dream to approach Star Artenza.
She returned to the boys with two pitchers of soda-pop, one Dr. Pepper and the other plain old Coca-cola. They hooted their enjoyment as she leaned over to pour the glass, razzing her for all she was worth. It didn't bother her much; they were regulars and they'd already given up on any serious conquest long ago.
"There ya go, boys." She winked as she trotted off to check the rest of her tables. Glancing up at the large mounted wall clock she realized it was 45 minutes until her shift was over, and that made her pick up the pace, grinning happily. It had been a good night. Fridays always brought good tips.
The rest of the evening brought nothing new, she managed her tables like a pro, despite the fact she'd had this, her first job, for only about 4 months now. She had quickly settled into a routine, being a quick learner and naturally watchful. The boys at table 14 stayed up until closing time, but El had come in about 10 minutes after she'd refilled the glasses, taking over the rowdy bunch with a wink and wicked smile. El was one of those girls that teased the bull when the bull was in the coral, but don't ever let it out or she'd run like hell. Star liked her, and they'd become rather good friends.
Clock-out time came; they'd wiped down all of the tables, refilled the condiments, and helped Stan with the kitchen.
"Well, I'm heading to bed. I'm beat," Stan said in the quiet manner he had, glancing over at the two girls who'd covered for him that day. One of the waitresses had called in sick for the fifth time in a row, and he'd been interviewing replacements. "If you two girls know anyone who works as hard as you do, send her on over for an interview."
Nodding and yawning, they both pulled on their sweaters. "Sure thing, Stan. If I think of anyone. I'll be sure to send her over. Well, goodnight you two." And with that, she waved to her two companions and sauntered out the back door into the employee parking lot.
Yes, well, Oregon is generally a cold and rainy place, but it was in the middle of August, and August was one of the two hot months out of the year. She wasn't worried about being rained on, despite the nip in the air. Making a beeline for her little mint-condition pearl white '88 Volkswagen Rabbit convertible, she fished her keys out from around her neck. She'd started carrying her keys on a chain around her neck when she lost them constantly for two weeks straight; this worked better.
Star wandered over toward the car with her head tilted down in search of the correct key. By the time she finally reached her destination and looked up, she noticed a man leaning against the hood of her car, watching her silently. She heaved a little sigh, raising an eyebrow at him as she slowly unlocked her car door. He was dressed in black slacks, spit-shinned black boots, and a black silk shirt. Black, black, black, she thought, beginning to get sick of this sort of male. A large coat was over his shoulder, making him look almost professional.
"Good evening," he said slowly. His voice was deep and smooth like caramel; she didn't care.
"Good night." She slipped into the car, shaking her head at the Eugene wacko's guild. Who approached a woman at midnight in the middle of a silent parking lot and expected her not to call for the police? It dawned on her that she really ought to be frightened of this sort of thing; maybe she'd grown up too sheltered. She moved to shut the door, and suddenly he was standing in the doorway, blocking her.
"I am Cael," he said, in that slow rich voice again, looking down at her.
Star looked up, a frown creasing her forehead. "I don't care. Now kindly remove yourself from my doorway." Cael's pale, ice-blue eyes looked startled for a moment, perfectly framed by locks of what looked like platinum silver hair in the moonlight. bably a blonde Star thought silently to herself as Cael took a polite step backward so she could shut her door.
"Thanks," she said, shut the door, and turned the key on the ignition. The car started up and purred like a kitten. She loved this car. The strange man remained just outside her door, looking a bit puzzled as she pulled out of her parking space and drove down the road the three blocks to her tiny apartment.
She emerged from the car, unlocked her door, and ran to the bathroom to take a much-deserved shower. Towel drying her hair afterward, she riffled through her books on her desk, pulling out her American Literature book and tossing it on the bed for some before bedtime reading. She spared a glance at her naked form in the long mirror on the bathroom door, smiling a little at her own well-defined body. She had a flat stomach, shapely hips and thighs, and medium-sized breasts, not unbelievable really, but pretty in their own right.
She turned back toward the bed, sitting on top of the covers to air dry while finishing up her American lit homework. At about 1:30, she flipped off the lights and lay her head comfortably against her pillows, letting sleep drag her down into oblivion.
The next day, Star got a call at around eleven in the morning. It had been Stan. He'd asked her if she'd come in that afternoon because he'd just fired the young lady who'd been so carefully avoiding work. Star agreed. She could always use a little extra cash.
She called El, who picked up the phone sleepily. "Hrmph?" she'd mumbled sleepily.
"Hey, El, it's Star," she waited for the name to sink into El's sleep-dazed mind. El was short for Elisa, but she'd hated the name so much she began just going by El.
"Hey, Star," she mumbled sleepily. "What are you doing calling me so bloody early?"
"It's eleven thirty, El. Get up. I'd like to go to Valley River with you to pick up a few new clothes from Ross." She'd already gotten up and dressed by nine thirty that morning and managed to get a bit of extra-credit homework in. "It's the weekend, I want to enjoy it for a change."
"Okay, okay. I'll meet you there, girl." The phone clicked to signal that she'd hung up. El wasn't really one for idle chit-chat unless she had something amusing to relate.
It didn't take her long to hop in her car and speed on over to Valley River Center, the larger of the two major malls in the Eugene/Springfield area. Ross wasn't exactly in the mall, more off to the side across the street. She pulled her car into one of the compact spaces and got out, swinging her little purse over her shoulder.
El was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Camel filters, ick! Star thought and waved to her friend as she made her way closer. El was dressed in boot-cut blue jeans and a cut-off faded blue tank with the words "Porn Star" printed in white rhinestones. She was a bit dramatic at times.
"What do you want to get here?" she asked, throwing the butt down on the ground and grinding it out with the heel of her Doc Martin boot.
Shrugging, Star pulled open the door. "Let's go in and look. I don't want to stand in the rain." Yes, rain. Oregon is one of those odd places that you never really know exactly what will be happening. Despite the fact that it had been lovely and blue-skied and hot the day before, it was overcast and raining the next.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she said, following Star into the store. Ross, as usual, was a mess. It was absolute insanity that anyone was able to find a damn thing in the chaos that was the Valley River Ross Store. Maybe that's why Star always managed to find perfect deals.
"Goddess," El said, rolling her eyes skyward, "Let's get what you want and get outa here, girl."
Working their way through pile upon pile of clothing, they finally managed to pick out a few things. Despite her short stature, Star was not anorexic. She was a size eight or nine, depending on style and the company who made the clothes.
El picked out a short skirt that came down to about mid-thigh, black and tight. Star protested, but El wouldn't take any of it. She'd also picked out a low-cut tank that came down just below Star's breasts, then hung in a see-through slinky net that clung to all of her curves. She'd had to pay for both items of clothing as Star flat out refused.
What Star picked out for herself was a couple nice pairs of blue jean pants and a couple of long-sleeved shirts that showed just enough of her belly so you could see her belly button. She damned society's idea of what was "in style" and looked for modest yet appealing ensembles.
The two friends spent a goodly amount of time picking things out, and ended up checking out from Ross with a good seventy-five dollars worth of clothing, way more than intended, an entire wardrobe by Ross standards.
A nice young man had checked them out. El couldn't stop herself from flirting, leaning forward and winking at him. She peered at his nametag. "Hey, Gabe." She winked. He just chuckled at her, shaking his head.
"'S'up," was all he said, giving a wide grin at her open admiration. Star carried the bags out to her car while El exchanged numbers with the nice man. She just wasn't interested in those things.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in idle gossip and eating a late lunch at Red Robin across from Ross. During their long conversation involving mostly El's latest conquests, Star brought up the previous evening's events.
"Okay, okay, let me get this straight," El began, leaning back with a little grin. "A strange man introduces himself to you in the middle of the night in the parking lot, nicely dressed, and you brush him off?" She shook her head, chuckling softly.
"Listen to yourself, El! You'd have brushed him off too! It's not right to be searching for chicks at that time of night." Rolling her eyes she gobbled a piece of chicken, eyeing her friend from across the table.
"Maybe so," she conceded, chuckling a bit more. "Was he handsome?"
"Maybe in an odd stalker type of way. I don't really pay attention to that type of thing, you know that." She shrugged her shoulders and a moment later the subject was changed onto something else completely.
Star did manage to make it to work on time, stopping at her apartment to throw on a pair of her brand new boot-cut blue jeans, tied up the sides with simulated leather cording, and a short, dark-blue shirt that showed off a bit of her tummy. Freshening up her make-up, she blinked at herself in the mirror a couple times then ran out the door to meet Stan at four o'clock.
Same ol,' same ol', she thought to herself, then glanced at the clock with a little groan. It was just after nine o'clock and darkness descended outside. She gazed out the window with a little longing. Her feet hurt and she'd been run dead through the busy Saturday rush. She glanced at El, who looked about as tired as she felt, throwing her a small smile.
The little bell signaled that someone else had entered the busy pizzeria. Star looked up and snatched a menu to meet the man standing in the doorway.
"Just one tonight?" She said in her happy voice, not even really seeing the man before her.
"Mmhmm," said a rich voice she recognized. "Just one, thank you." She looked up immediately, her mouth compressed in a thin line as she gazed at the man before her.
"Hrmph," was all she said, but a small smile touched his lips at her obvious recognition. In the clear light of the pizzeria, Star got a much better look at him. He stood about six feet tall, give an inch or two, had a medium build, shoulder-length blonde hair in loose curls, bordering on waves. His ice-blue eyes were more startling in the light, and she let her gaze slide over him once more.
He was wearing some sort of tightly fitted black leather pants, designed with the admirer in mind, and a black fishnet t-shirt. He threw his long black coat over one arm, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.
"Are you planning on seating me, or are we going to stand here all evening gazing at one another?" he asked in a very polite tone, that rich velvet voice rolling over her eardrums. She snapped her eyes back up to his eyes, frowning again.
"Right this way, sir," she said, leading him very specifically to El's section.
"I'd like to sit at that table, please," he said slowly. She turned to see that he was pointing at the single open table in her section.
"Of course." She muttered, changing course to bring him to the table. "Anything to drink while you look over the menu?"
"Coke, please." Leaning back in the chair, he cut his eyes upward at her, as if watching her every movement.
"Right away," she said, and hurried away from the table.
While she was filling his glass with Coke from the machine in the kitchen, El sauntered in with an arched eyebrow. "Who's that!?" she asked, a knowing smile tugging her lips.
"It's that guy I told you about at lunch, El! He's apparently not going to give up. Ick." She heaved a little sigh, but couldn't help thinking about how good he looked in those tight leather pants. My, my! she'd thought..
"You're kidding? You're still gonna brush him off?" Her friend asked, shaking her head in dismay. "Why? Look at him! He's gorgeous!"
Star only shrugged in response, making a noncommittal sound.
"I guess, but I'm not interested right now, I have to concentrate on my studies." But she had to admit, he was incredibly good looking in an almost dangerous way. As she carried his glass of Coke back to him, she took the time to examine his face. He had perfect lush lips, a classical nose, and strong but delicate jaw. His cheeks were high and well defined; he truly was attractive, she had to admit.
"There you go," she said, smiling at him. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"
"I'm Cael, and you are…" he repeated the statement from the previous evening, his voice slow and even.
"My name is Star," she responded, tapping her nametag with her pen. "Your dinner, sir?" she reminded him.
He looked her up and down, starting at her heeled boots and working his way up her body to meet her eyes. "I'm good," he said, licking his lips in the most erotic, or frightening, manner imaginable. "For now," he finished, nibbling his lower lip.
Star began to blush at this blatant come on, having never been approach in such a way by any man in her life. All she could manage was a nod to her head, turning on her heels and nearly running back to the kitchen.
"Heh, he watched your behind until he couldn't see you anymore," El commented idly, snickering as her friend's blush depended to a dusky rose.
"I can't take that table, El, you take it," Star said, shaking her head to clear it of the many interesting images that clouded her mind. It wasn't as if she never thought about men or didn't have fantasies, she just didn't care to carry her fantasies to fruition. She had better things to do with her time then men and sex. At least, that's what she thought.
El nodded. "Sure thing, girl. But I don't know why you're brushing that one off." She glanced back at the man sitting silently at the table.
"Because he's probably a psycho!" Star snapped, grabbing the pie that Stan told her was for one of her tables and heading back out into the main room of the restaurant.
Two and a half hours later, a very tired Star gazed mournfully at the clock, then back to the table where the odd man was seated. He hadn't moved, nor had he taken one sip of his Coke. He never ordered any pizza and hadn't called her back over to his table. That changed as if he was reading her mind. Raising one hand, he signaled her attention and she came over a little guardedly.
"I'd like to meet with you after you've completed your work," he said in that slow manner of his, almost as if he was overcoming an accent.
"I don't date," she said just as slowly, as if he spoke a different language and simply didn't understand her. "I go to school, and work, and home. That's it."
A smile tugged the corners of his mouth and he shook his head, causing his tumble of hair to brush his shoulders.
"Because you won't leave me the hell alone! You do not simply approach a woman in the middle of the night, then stalk her the next day and expect her to fall at your feet! I don't care how good looking you are." And with that, she spun on her heels and stalked off, feeling quite angry. Once she reached the kitchen, Stan raised an inquiring eyebrow at her.