tagCelebrities & Fan FictionKimberly McArthur Meets a Fan

Kimberly McArthur Meets a Fan


Kimberly had to admit she was disappointed. After about eight years of trying she simply was not going to make it in Hollywood. A few B movies, a few bit parts, a few TV walk-ons; she winced at the credit "Woman in the hot tub" and thought nothing could be worse. Probably her biggest break was a regular character on a soap but that only lasted a few months. Now she was here in New York City for a few auditions but she knew they were going to lead to nothing. Here she was in a nice hotel on a Saturday night in the city that never sleeps and she felt like doing nothing.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her green eyes flashed with liveliness and sensuality. Even under the bulky sweater her breasts stood out firm and ripe and she still didn't wear a bra. She shook her honey blonde mane of hair and laughed at herself. "Wake up girl." She said out loud. "Get yourself up; let yourself go." She pulled the sweater off and her nipples popped up erect; she shook her hair again and walked to the shower. On the way she peeled off her tight jeans and lacy panties.

She started the water in the shower and jumped on the bed as she waited for it to get hot enough for her. In the mirror she could see her naked body from her toes up. She looked at herself and wiggled her toes as she giggled. Her body was fine and she knew it. She spread her legs enough to expose her pussy and she imagined she was being photographed once more. Again she laughed at herself, thinking that her body was fine, even better than when she was a centerfold. No, it wasn't her body that was holding back her acting career.

She leaped from the bed and into the shower. The steamy hot water felt great streaming down her soft skin. She lathered herself up with her favorite peppermint soap and watched as little rivulets formed on the sheen of water spreading over her satin breasts and belly.

Slowly she began to work her hand down across her flat tummy and down between her legs. Soon Kimberly was fingering herself and pressing against her clit as the warm water ran all around her hand.

Her hand was moving in slow deliberate motions but as she got more aroused her actions became frantic. She leaned against the wall of the shower and oozed down to the floor. The water was running right into her pussy and Kimberly found herself writhing as her own juices became a deluge over her hand. She sat there breathing deeply as she recovered from her blissful daze.

After rinsing herself off she wrapped herself in the hotel bathrobe and found herself wandering around her room. She put on the TV but the movie did not hold her interest. Finally she found herself at the mirror doing her make up and hair. Kimberly had nowhere to go but she had to get out.

She slipped into a simple black wool dress that showed off her hourglass figure and she watched herself in the mirror as she unrolled sliver grey silk stockings over her fine legs. For some reason Kim loved to watch people get dressed, even herself. It was better than a strip tease. In measured and leisurely movements her fingers pulled the cool silk over her warm flesh and she reveled in the sensuous pleasure of the whispering fabric.

She wriggled some soft sheer panties over her hips and smoothed down the wool of the dress. She spun around and gave herself a wicked smile as her hair bounced over her shoulders. She pulled on a pair of black pumps and grabbed her coat and scarf and danced out the door.

Kimberly really had no idea where to go. It was late February and already dark. The streets of New York were oddly empty and Kim was lost in her own thoughts when she abruptly felt her legs fly out in front of her and her bottom hit the icy sidewalk with a loud bang.

Kim was startled and dazed but mostly she felt like a fool. She started to get up again and again tumbled down. She looked up to find a man standing over her. "Are you Ok? Let me give you a hand." He reached out with a gloved hand and pulled her up. She tried to stand but realized her left shoe was broke. She was leaning on the man and about to say thanks when she staggered again because of the broken shoe.

"I'll fix that," he said and simply bent down and snapped the heel off of her right shoe too.

"Those shoes cost two hundred dollars," she shouted with her Texan twang. She looked down at her now ridiculous looking feet and laughed. "Well, thank you kindly, I guess."

"Can I call you a cab or something. Where's your bag. Are you sure you're Ok? That was a nasty spill."

Kimberly smiled, amused by his attention and pulled her small purse out of the deep pocket of her overcoat to show him that she was all intact. "Thank you, no." She started to stagger away on the broken shoes but felt silly with the way she was waddling. He was right along side her.

"Actually New York City law requires me to at least buy you a cup of coffee since I saved your life."

"Oh, you saved my life? I thought you just ruined some very expensive shoes."

"No, I only ruined one expensive shoe. You did the other one. So I guess I only owe you half a cup of coffee. Look there's a place right here." They were standing in front of a typical NYC diner.

Kimberly stopped; she looked him up and down. He looked maybe thirty-five. He was slim but not overly muscular. He shaved his head but wore a knit cap in the cold. He had on jeans and an old army jacket. The pockets seemed to be stuffed with books and papers. Well, she was cold she told herself and her rear was sore from smacking the cold pavement. She also liked his eyes. He was trying to look serious and solicitous but his eyes were dancing with what seemed to be a delight in everything. It seemed to be the sort of face that was always happy. What harm is there in a cup of coffee?

"All right, I don't want you to get in trouble with the mayor. But let's find the rest of my shoe first." He bent down and came up proudly displaying both heels.

He jumped in front to hold the door. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said with mock-imperious tones. The shop was warm and practically empty. There was a counter on one side and booths on the other. Kim went to the last booth and sat. She slipped her coat off her shoulders and scrunched herself up to enjoy the warmth.

The man tossed his jacket on the seat and sat across from her. His grey sweater could charitably be described as moth eaten, but even stretched out and holey it looked comfortable and seemed to suit him.

"I'm Peter," he said reaching across the table to shake her hand. She took his hand and it was pleasantly warm.

"I'm Kimberly. Nice to meet you." Her voice seemed to get more Texan with every word she spoke. She felt very much at ease with him.

"Kimberly," he said almost to himself, "Kimberly."

She giggled. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

"Oh, no, sorry. I was just working out the meter. You know, poetry." He looked down as if embarrassed. She was still holding his hand which was now resting on the table. She put her other hand over it.

"Are you a poet?"

"Not hardly," he laughed. "Even worse, I'm a grad student."

"Really, what do you study?" She picked up her hands and rested her chin on them.

"I'm in the philosophy department at NYU. For a Ph.D. But my work is in poetry."

"What do you mean?" she asked. He looked at her sitting there with her elbows on the table and her hands on her face. She was staring at him and seemed very open to what he was saying.

"Well, like this: 'Look at what passes for the new. You will not find it there but in despised poems. It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.'"

"I know that poem. It's Williams right?" Her prideful smile was the brightest thing in the room.

"Yeah, William Carlos Williams. Right."

"Actually, my favorite is Keats."

Now he laughed and pulled a small battered volume from his pocket. It was bulging with bookmarks and postits. It was a book of Keats' poems.

This started them off and they got lost in a conversation about poetry and favorite books and movies. They agreed mostly but had violent arguments over the merits of Emily Dickinson and Ingmar Bergman. Coffee came and went. The conversation flowed on and on.

At one point she wriggled out of her coat and she enjoyed the direct way he looked at her, unlike most men who either pretended not to notice her shapely body or just leered at her expectantly. "Man, you are one beautiful broad." She laughed lustily because the ordinarily crude comment seemed appropriate to the give and take of their talk.

About midnight the check came; the owners wanted to go home. They glanced at each other and smiled. "You know, between my broken shoes and your ratty sweater, this is about the only place we can go to and now it's closing."

"Well, we could go to my place. Did I tell you I live in e e cummings' old house?"

Kimberly howled with laughter. "That is, beyond any doubt, the worst pickup line I've ever heard."

"No, actually 'That's a ratty sweater' is the worst pickup line."

"Do you think I'm trying to pick you up. Dream again, darling." Kimberly really did enjoy his company but she was not just teasing him now; she was not the type of girl to go off with a complete stranger.

"No kidding, I do live in e e cummings' house. It's actually very cool."

She looked him up and down. "And how will I know it's e e cummings' house?"

"Well, it's a landmark; there's a plaque on the door."

"Where is this famous house?"

He explained that it was in a historic neighborhood in Greenwich Village, that he rented a room from a woman who had lived in the building since the time cummings was there; he spoke on and on trying to get her interested. As she listened she could tell that, while he was of course after her body, he really liked the house and wanted her to see it. "Ok, I'll tell you what, we'll take a cab there and I'll see the plaque," she was looking directly into his eyes. "Then I go back to my hotel."

"Of course, you go off back to Hollywood or Texas or whatever star you fell off of; I go home and do my homework."

They paid the bill and got up. Kimberly had completely forgotten that her shoes were broken and she stumbled briefly but she decided that it didn't matter since she'd only be riding in a cab. As they left the diner it began to snow.

In the taxi she snuggled up against him because of the cold; she felt a little guilty as she realized that the close proximity of her firm and curvy body was getting him excited. He was a gentleman though and distracted himself and her by pointing out the sights as they drove by. He also talked more about the house, how it was built as servants' quarters in 1845, how he liked the garden in the back that still had a tree that cummings wrote poems about; he spoke of anything except what was most on his mind which was how he wanted to nuzzle those magnificent tits.

Kimberly enjoyed his monologue and she thought he was very sweet. She resolved to give him a very nice goodnight kiss.

When they pulled up at Patchin Place where he lived, Kimberly was surprised to see a large gate enclosing the quaint little street. "Where's the plaque?" she asked.

"You'll have to get out. It's Ok. We can get another cab." There was an awkward moment over the fare because Kimberly didn't want a poor graduate student to have to pay for her taxi; he gallantly insisted on paying. It turned out he didn't have enough cash anyway.

They strolled in the snow through the gate with Kimberly leaning on his arm to keep steady and to keep warm, and the truth told, because she liked him a little. With a flourish he presented the plaque. She giggled, "It's still a ratty sweater." He laughed and offered to show her the famous tree.

Kimberly looked at him sweetly and sleepily. "It's too cold."

"We can see it from my window."

Kim laughed again and it sounded like bells. "You are incorrigible! What ever happened to etchings? You know what, darling, I can handle you. Let's see this tree."

They went in arm in arm. When they got to his room, Kimberly gasped. "You are the biggest slob I've ever seen!" In deed the room was a mess of papers, books, and dirty laundry.

"Um, well I wasn't expecting company."

Kimberly looked at him and sighed. He really was a mess, albeit a cute mess. He shaved his head but it looked liked he had missed a few days, his jeans were rumpled, his shoes must have tramped through a war zone, and that sweater; well, even the battered grey sweater had a certain charm. This was a man without any pretensions and he seemed very comfortable with himself. Not bold and cocky, just happy with who he was. "All right," she finally said, "Where's this fabled tree."

"Well, you can see it out the window here," he pointed to the window that was covered by wooden shutters, "but it's dark out there in the garden so you won't be able to see it 'til morning."

"Hell's bells!" Kimberly screamed, "You are the worst! That is the sorriest excuse I have ever heard." She was laughing as she admonished him. "Just what kind of girl do you think I am? You're trying to seduce me aren't you."

"Well, yeah. What do you think? Anyway, you have to admit we've been having fun. That's the main thing, isn't it? I just really glad to be keeping company with you."

Kimberly looked at him and frowned. Suddenly her face brightened and spread into a grin. "Is that a fireplace?"

"Sure, I told you, built in 1845. And it works too."

"A fireplace in the middle of Manhattan! Oh, we've got to have a fire."

"OK, I'll go get some wood. It's in the basement." Before she could say another word he tossed his coat on a wooden chair and left the room. It was in fact the only chair in the place.

Kimberly stood in the center of the room and looked around. She began to pace nervously; without really thinking she started to putter around straightening things and putting things away. It really wasn't that dirty in here; actually all it was cluttered. The dirty clothes turned out to be his gym stuff which she wrinkled her cute nose at as she tossed it into the bathroom.

She was busily stacking papers and books when she abruptly gasped, realizing that she was clearing off the bed. "Oh, Kimberly! What have you gotten into?" she whispered to herself.

When Peter came back she was standing in the middle of the room. She still had her coat on and her hands were in her pockets. He looked at her and smiled; he ignored the serious expression on her face. She watched him quietly as he expertly built up a pile of logs and got the fire started. He picked up a small paper bag and took out six or seven jar candles. And lit them as he placed them around the room. "I borrowed these from my landlady."

Kimberly felt the warm glow of the fire melting her and it made her shudder. "Peter," she said softly, "I have to leave."

"I know," he said as he turned off the lamp. The room now danced with the radiance of the candles and hearth. "I know you have to leave. I just want you to stay as long as you can."

Kim watched him standing there and shook her head. "I have to leave right now."

"Sure, I'll walk you out and get you a cab." He started to walk past her to pick up his coat. He paused in front of her and put his hand behind her back and drew her up into a kiss.

Kimberly moaned slightly and her lips parted briefly. She could hear him breathing in the sweet scent of her hair as he hugged her. He smelled of the fireplace, but it was a musty masculine smell. "It's a really pretty tree," he whispered.

Kim broke the embrace and pushed him away, holding him at arms length. "Will you please take off this disgusting sweater," she said with a seductive smile.

Peter grinned as the sweater flew across the room. He pulled her close as nuzzled her slender throat as he undid the buttons of her coat. He slid his hands inside and wrapped his arms around her waist for another kiss.

This kiss was still soft and quiet. Kimberly kept her eyes on his and she quivered looking into the joy in his eyes. He pulled the coat off her and let it fall to the floor. He put his arms around her and caressed her bare shoulders. His fingers came to the long row of buttons running down the back of her dress. "Who does all these buttons for you?"

"I slip it over my head silly."

He turned her around and kissed her on the back of her neck, then he started kissing each spot along her spine. When he came to the buttons, he opened each one slowly and lightly kissed the soft flesh revealed. Kimberly was now writhing with pleasure and she had reached behind him and was holding his hips and grinding into him.

Peter went gradually down her entire spine; the opening of each button revealed more and more of her smooth, warm skin. Each kiss sent a shiver down her whole body and she was beginning to moan softly. The last button was low on her waist. As he stood he kissed each spot again.

He carefully pushed the dress over and off her shoulders and the black fabric made a whispering sound as it slid off her trembling body. She still had her back to him and his eyes took in the splendor of her satiny flesh.

Now came one of Kimberly's favorite moments in lovemaking. She was by nature shy and demure about her body but she got a special thrill at that instant when a man first saw her breathtaking full breasts. Something about the look in a man's eyes as he realized the perfection before him gave Kimberly a tingling feeling all over. She was not disappointed by Peter's reaction. She turned and presented herself with her arms out and palms up. The black dress was gathered around her waist and the contrast highlighted the silky glow of her smooth white skin. The nipples were red and hard with anticipation.

Peter did gasp; he was in fact speechless. He paused for a second then spoke, "Oh Kimberly, I've got to have those." She smiled knowingly and lifted her breasts up to his mouth. His kisses were slow but hungry; he held each magnificent mound in his hands as he tried to cover each with his lips and tongue. Kimberly held his ass and pulled him into her. She was making little "mmm" sounds to match his sucking and slurping. She ran her hands up his back and pulled the shirt over his torso; they had to break their embrace so she could lift the shirt up and over his head. At the same time he pushed the black dress off her hips and it fell to the floor.

"I think we need to be on the bed Kimberly."

"I know we need to be on the bed, but I need to get these pants off you first." She was undoing his belt and opened the button on his jeans.

"I love this," he said as his mouth went back to her nipples. Meanwhile Kim's soft hands were drawing down the zipper so slowly that it sounded like a ticking clock. When the pants were opened she put her hot mouth on his chest and kissed him from his nipples to his navel as she knelt to pull his pants down and push them to the floor.

Kimberly then stood up rubbing her breast over his entire body from his crotch up to his chest as he groaned with pleasure. She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, "Now it's bed time don't you think?"

He swept her legs out from under her and lifted her like a bride and turned; it was just two steps to the bed but looking at her eyes glowing in the golden flame of the fireplace it seemed like he was walking through fields of burning flowers. He lay her down gently and paused as she stretched and wriggled to the center of the bed.

Kimberly looked up and him and grinned. She stretched up her arms. "Come here baby." Peter did not need any more encouragement. He climbed onto the bed and bent over her. She lifted up her head to his and their mouths covered each other. Their tongues intertwined and they seemed to be trying to suck each other into their mouths. Kimberly's lips tasted like honey direct from the hive; she was sweet but her teeth her nibbling and biting him too.

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