tagCelebritiesLawyer to the (Porn) Stars: Natasha

Lawyer to the (Porn) Stars: Natasha

byfittucker87©

(Author's Note: I know parody is protected by Flynt vs. blah, blah, blah, but I've left off the last names of the girls in these continuing stories. These are all "present time" web flames of mine, but can't hold a candle to the Traceys, Tamaras, Victorias, Keishas and Christys of my youth. Maybe I'll do a retro version sometime. The astute porn surfers will figure out pretty easily who the girls are, but if you don't, or prefer your own imagination, insert whomever in your vision. I welcome any and all feedback. Enjoy.)




Hello again and welcome back to the non-stop party that is my life. It's me, your old buddy Rod. Rod Steele. Since we last spoke, my life has been one long, continuous orgy. I have been fucking all day, all night, trying to keep up with Sara's work mates (sigh). Ok, that's not entirely true. Ok, that's not at all true, in fact. Sara did take some of my business cards with her as she left my office modeling my personal batch of face moisturizer (see previous story) and did pass them around to the girls, but in the three weeks since she did, I've only been laid once. And that was Sara herself.

She was getting her contract for her new career updated and I guess took some pity on me. Even the new moves she had picked up in the business weren't enough to offset the jaded look in her eyes as I pounded into her. Afterwards, we chatted awkwardly and she left, promising to keep in touch. That night at the club, Todd the bartender told me she had quit, saying her burgeoning movie career was taking off. I went so far as to call her the next day, catching her on set, if I deduced the sounds in the background correctly.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sara, its Rod."

"Oh, hey Rod. What's up?"

I could tell from the tone in her voice she regretted picking up the call, but I pressed forward. "Just wanted to say hi, see if there was anything you needed, make sure they're treating you alright and all." I could hear someone call her name in the background.

"Fine, I'm fine Rod. Listen, can I call you back?"

"Sure, I...," but with a wet smack into the phone, she was gone and that was three days ago.

So, here I sit, right back where I started. I grossed maybe $100 doing the two contracts for Sara, hoping it would lead to more lucrative work. Ok and maybe some free pussy on the side, but first and foremost, I practice to make money. A guy's got to eat and smoke. I stub out my cigarette and throw a twenty down on the bar for Todd as the DJ announces, "And now dancing on center stage..." I tune it out and start for the door.

"Hey Rod," Todd calls. "Gone so soon?" It's a week night, the crowd thin and I think I'm the only one that wasn't nursing their second beer down to the suds.

"Yeah, just tired. See you later Todd." He raises a hand as I negotiate the dim room, wave at a few of the working girls and fist bump the huge bouncer Leroy.

"Goin' get wet Rod," he rumbles.

"What? Shit." I open the door to reveal the sheets of rain washing over the parking lot. "Great, just what I need."

Leroy chuckles as the door shuts and I grab my keys and sprint to my early model P.O.S. Shivering at the chill of the rain, I crank the car, pop the headlights and reveal the figure on the landing to the club I had missed when I exited.

From the distance, it looks like a kid. Hunched over, thin windbreaker over their head and a backpack slung over their shoulder. I realize it must be Natasha. She was waitressing tonight and had left about fifteen minutes ago, after waving shyly to Todd and myself. I roll forward and get her attention through my cracked passenger side window.

"Hey! Natasha? You need a ride?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine," she says, but then pauses and leans forward to peer at me. "Oh, hey Rod, I didn't know who that was. I thought it was a customer trolling for something."

"No, just old Rod trolling," I laugh. "Come on, get in, you're getting soaked." I can see her hesitate, but then common sense wins out and she runs over and jumps into the car as I open the door from the inside. With a spray of rain, she plops into the seat and slams the door. Dropping the soaked backpack in the floor, she turns and smiles at me.

"Wow, it's really raining out there. Thanks for stopping. I had called for a taxi, but they never showed." I pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the one way access road. I glance over at my passenger as she pulls on her soaked clothing that has stuck to her wet skin.

Natasha has been working at the club for about two months now and I know her well enough to say hey, but that's about it. She's been waiting tables during that time, not doing any dancing yet, but from what I've seen of her in the tight fitting cocktail outfits the wait staff wears, she definitely has the looks and body for it. Tiny, only about 5' on a good day, she has shiny black hair that extends just past her shoulder blades and a very fair complexion. She has small features to match her frame, a little nose and ears and delicate hands that for some reason I've noticed as she's brought me beers. Her best attribute would have to be her startling blue eyes. They seem to leap out at you from her face, given her complexion and the impossibly long eyelashes that frame them. And since this tale will definitely center around them later, I would be remiss if I did not mention her boobs.

I had occasion to see them in the flesh a couple of weeks ago. I was in the back, being a regular and all, and thought I was going into the club manager's office, but opened the dressing room door. Natasha was in there, changing before her shift and in the brief moment she turned to me before covering herself, I was astounded by the size of the tits she had on her tiny body. Mind you, were not talking the overdone volleyball stripper boobs here. These were real and definitely spectacular, a handful and a half each, sloping sexily down onto her chest. The areoles were about three inches across and capped by lovely upturned pink nipples. She squealed and covered them with her hands, squashing them between her fingers. As she turned I noticed her little bubble butt split by the blue thong before I excused myself, apologizing profusely.

Tonight, however, she looked like a drowned rat and I reached into the back seat, handing her a roll of paper towels. She thanked me and began to sop the rain from her skin and top.

"So, where to 'mlady?" It was at that point that I realized that all of the wetness on her face was not just from the rain. She stifled a sob, but I could see tears roll down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, what's wrong Natasha?"

Wiping the back of her hand across her face, she sniffled and looked at me, smiling slightly, but with eyes already red from crying. "I'm sorry Rod. I'm ok, it's just that...that..." She swallowed down another sob. "I don't have anywhere to go!"

Oh hell, here we go, I thought. Between big honks into the paper towels and the sniffles, Natasha told me that she still lived with her parents, having graduated high school six months ago. She had turned eighteen right before getting the job at the club and figured waitressing at a strip joint would be good for tips, allowing her to save money for her own place. She hadn't told her parents where she was working, but apparently a patron recognized her and had anonymously called her parents. Why some people can't mind their own fucking business is beyond me sometimes. Her dad had promptly shit a brick and thrown her out, despite her pleading and assurances that she wasn't stripping, only waiting tables. She had spent the last two nights in a flea bag motel just down the strip know for its hourly rates, but with two days until pay day, she was tapped out.

I asked her if she had a girlfriend from school she could call or someone from the club she could crash with. Her sobs came faster as she explained that she had only moved to the area a few months before graduation and hadn't made any real friends during her employment. She sat quietly, almost shrinking into the seat beside me. I mentally cursed myself for what I was about to do, but still opened my mouth just the same.

"Well, you could crash at my place tonight. I have a pull out sleeper sofa."

She blew another honker into the paper towel and shook her head. "Oh, thanks Rod, but I couldn't ask you to do that...."

The way she trailed off, I could tell that with a little more encouraging, she'd seize the invite with both hands. So again, over the nagging "this is not a good fucking idea" in my head, I said, "No, no, it wouldn't be a problem. I've got room. You can crash tonight and either patch things up with the folks or rope some other sucker tomorrow." She laughed a little bit at that. "Look, worse case scenario, you camp out 'til payday."

She looked at me with those big, wet blue eyes shining with gratitude and I congratulated myself on my suckerness. "Thanks, I mean really Rod. I promise I won't get in your way. You won't even notice I'm there!" Fat chance of that, I think. It's been a while since I've had anybody shacking up with me, even on a platonic level. The odds of me not noticing a woman that looks like Natasha under my own roof are nonexistent. We drive in silence for a while, before pulling up in front of my humble abode. The garage door opener is broken, like a lot of things in my life, so we make a run for it, the rain pelting us and re-soaking what had dried in the drive over.

Once inside, I drop my keys on the coffee table and point out the bathroom to Natasha. "You'll find towels and such in there. Sorry, my toiletries selection is probably not up to snuff." Natasha laughs and walks towards the door. Right as she's about to close the door, I call to her, "Natasha?"

She pokes her head back out. "Yeah, Rod?"

Embarrassed at what I'm about to say, I jam my hands into my wet slacks and look down. "Hey, I hate to ask, but I really don't know you, I mean, your name's probably not Natasha, right?"

She opens the door more and leans against the door frame. I can see a change in her eyes, but she tosses her wet hair back and looks back at me. "What do you want my name to be?"

I throw my head back and laugh, shocking her. She smiles hesitantly as I cough my way (damn cigarettes) through the best laugh I've had in a while. "No, no, nothing like that. Look we're just friends and I'm doing you a favor. Hell, you're young enough to be my daughter. It's just that, well hell, in today's climes you can't be too careful. How old are you again?" At this she smiles and opens her backpack, pulling out her ID which she hands to me.

I look at it. Her name isn't anywhere close to Natasha, but I could care less. The thing I'm interested in is making sure she's 18 before I let her crash here. My intentions are honorable, but you can never be too careful. Sure enough, she turned 18 over 6 months ago. I hand the card back and apologize.

She smiles with that sweet girl next door look she has and says, "No problem, I understand."

We stand there for a second before I turn away. "Um, don't let me hold you up. Are you fixed ok for clothes?"

She shrugs and glances at her soaked knapsack. "I think so..."

"Here," I say and extend my hand, "Let me run 'em through the dryer at least."

Natasha's eyes appear like they're getting moist again as she whispers, "Thanks so much Rod. This is the nicest anyone has been to me in a long time."

I shrug and give her my best aw shucks look. "Taint nuthin' ma'am. You hungry? Chinese ok?" Her eyes light up.

"Yummy, my fave, but I don't have any..."

"Money, I know. My treat."

She smiles and shuts the door behind her. I pull out my cell and dial the local Chinese delivery place.

Fifteen minutes later, the soaking wet delivery boy is paid and I'm unpacking the containers from the paper bag. I hear the bathroom door open. I call over my shoulder, "Your clothes aren't quite done yet. I..." I look over my shoulder and see that she has found something to wear, such as it is.

"I found a T-shirt of yours in there. I hope it's ok," she says.

I'm a big guy, 6'3", so the T-shirt she found is large enough to cover most of her, extending down to mid-thigh. However, the humidity of the shower and her moist skin conspire against my eyes, causing the cotton material to cling to her ass and tits. I can't help myself, staring at the twin mounds on her chest, the nipples protruding slightly against the fabric. She notices my look and she self-consciously pulls the shirt away from her body, but it promptly seals itself back. I attempt to defuse the uncomfortable moment.

"Well, all grown up aren't we?"

"Sorry, I..."

I wave my hand dismissively and turn back to the food like it's no big deal, but my Johnson has perked up and I can feel it thickening in my pants. "Have a seat on the couch. I'll be just a minute." I luckily find two clean cups and a bottle of wine I was saving for who knows what reason. "You're not going to turn me in for contributing to the delinquency of a minor if we drink this, are you?"

She laughs from the couch. "No, a drink sounds nice right now, thanks."

I bring over the plates and containers and pour the wine while she spoons out portions. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the shift of her big tits underneath the shirt. Shit Rod. What have you gone and done now? You've got a homeless wanna be stripper/cocktail waitress wearing nothing but a T-shirt camped out on your couch! The opportunist in me is saying that a chance like this doesn't come around very often, but that nagging side that realizes the pitfalls inherent to the situation is winning out. I flip on the idiot box and we lose ourselves in some mindless reality drivel while we eat.

The food is long gone and I've just drained the last of the wine when I notice Natasha stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"Yeah, me too," I say as she laughs. "Let me get you some blankets and sheets." I get up and go to the closet. When I turn back, my eyes are filled with Natasha bending over the couch and wrestling the sleeper out. The T-shirt has slid up her smooth thighs, revealing the bottom moons of her shapely buttocks. Before she can turn and notice my gawking, I drop the items and head for the dryer to get her something to wear underneath my shirt. My self-control can't take much more of this.

By the time I return however, Natasha has made the bed and is snuggled in. She looks to be asleep, her raven hair covering the pillow, so I put her clothes on the armchair, turn off the light and go to the bathroom for my own shower.

By the time I come out, I'm hoping she is fast asleep, as I didn't bring anything to put on into the bath with me. I risk a naked dash to my room and shut the door quietly behind me, flipping on the light. I almost yell in surprise when I see Natasha sit up on the bed, her eyes wide. I look around and reflexively cover myself with the only thing near to hand, an old ash tray luckily containing only a few butts. The butts and ashes fall to the floor, but I have my cock blocker.

"Natasha! What the hell are you doing in here?" She doesn't answer, her eyes glued to the ceramic ash tray. I look down and realize there's still a bit of my old poker hanging out. I shift it down, but only succeed in exposing the base of my cock. I move my hand to help out.

"Wow, I can see why they call you Rod," Natasha whispers. Ok, so I'm hung, so sue me.

I'm blushing from head to toe at this point. "Well, I didn't think I would have any company," I stammer. "Is the couch not ok?" Look, I'm not that dense, but I don't want to assume here.

Natasha finally looks away from my crotch and I can see the embarrassment on her face as well. "It's just that...you've been so nice to me Rod...and I thought that...well..."

I sigh, but my conscience won't let me pursue this further. "Look Natasha, you are definitely a very sexy girl, but I can't let you cheapen yourself like this." Wuss. "We're friends and friends do favors, but not that kind of favor." She won't meet my eyes, so I press on. "Tell you what, after you get yourself settled, if you still want a ride on the Rod Express, I might consent to let you." This gets me a smile and she hops off the bed, those big tits a bouncing under the T shirt. With a glance at my still inadequate cock cover, she stands on tip toes and chastely kisses my cheek. Chaste it might be, but those stiff nipples that brushed against my abdomen are anything but.

"Thanks Rod. Thanks for being a friend." With that, she's out the door and I remove the tray and look at my dusty, gray, half-hard cock.

"You need another bath," I mutter, but I only go over, throw back the sheets and collapse, visions of the nubile minx in the next room haunting my sleep.

The next morning, I ensure that I am well steeled for what might greet me after exiting my room. I made sure to get completely dressed, but in her sleep, Natasha has rolled from under the covers, the T-shirt riding up, and I am treated to a tantalizing view of her pussy. It's covered in wispy brown hair and as her leg is cocked to the side, I can see most of her labia peeking out at me. I make a bee line for the coffee pot and try to make as much noise as possible, hoping that she'll find her dried clothes and spare me any further torture.

As I'm pouring my first cup, I sense her behind me and turn. She's rubbing the sleep from her eyes and extends her arms over her head stretching. I start to avert my eyes, but see that she's found her panties.

Seeing the look on my face, she smiles sleepily. "Found my panties. Thanks."

"No, thank you. For finding your panties and all."

She laughs and thanks me as I hand her my cup before pouring myself another.

"So, what's on the agenda for today, boss?"

"Boss?" I ask, perplexed.

She nods her head, her blue eyes peering at me over the rim of the coffee cup. "I'm going to work with you today. Surely there's something I can do in your office. Filing or what not."

I'm impressed. "First of all, it's Rod, not Shirley, and second of all, you don't have to do that."

She shakes her head. "No, I want to. Since you wouldn't let me thank you last night," her blue eyes twinkle as I blush, "The least I can do is help out in your office." As I start to shake my head she presses her case. "C'mon Rod, please? I'll be a big help, I promise."

I wilt under the pressure of those big baby blue eyes staring at me. "Ok. Hurry up and get dressed. We'll get breakfast on the way." She gleefully claps her hands and goes to get dressed, thankfully entering the bathroom first.

Ten minutes later, we're on our way out. We stop off at the corner fast food joint and get a couple of artery clogging breakfast sandwiches and pull up at my office five minutes later. Upon entering the small anteroom and surveying the multiple boxes stacked all around, I realize that Natasha has her work cut out for her. I've got several years worth of filing that I had been putting off. I line her out and go into my office, first pouring a cup of joe and sitting down to check email. For once, I've got a couple that aren't trying to sell me male enhancements.

It seems that the porn producers that I had dealt with when negotiating Sara's contracts are reaching out to me in search of talent. While I'm not sure that adding pimp to my Yellow Pages ad is in my best interest, I'm not averse to new ways to earn money and since I do know quite a bit of strippers, this might be the easiest fees I've collected in sometime. I call them up and schedule an appointment for later this morning.

An hour or so later, I print out the documents I had been working on, put them in my soft side briefcase and head for the door. Natasha is knee deep in storage boxes and I'm impressed with what she's accomplished so far. "C'mon girl Friday. Let's roll," I say extending a hand to help her up. It's clear from the way the front of her shirt bounces as she stands up that she's not wearing a bra. I try to focus on her face.

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