Sad Son Pt. 06

is the last part of the story. Hal's dream girl turned out to be a dud in the last part. Who wins at life and ends up with Hal? Which sisters and friends do Hal Keep? So many questions. Due to the story comments, there is a bonus at the end. I pay attention to anything constructive or positive.

Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is, a fun story. Special thanks to rancher46 and RF-Fast for editing my story.

Chapter 15 -- I Date a Porn Star

The following day, we wake up to Andrea yelling, "Breakfast! Get your hot blueberry pancakes while they're hot!"

I hear the shower running, "Let's go take a shower in Andrea's washroom. She makes awesome pancakes."

We get up and walk to the shower naked. The water is hot immediately, we clean up.

Michelle seems nervous, "You aren't hopping up and down with excitement. Was I no good?"

I give her a genuine smile, "There is nothing wrong with you or your body. Last night was a dream come true for me. I've had great sex several times, and my life is turbulent right now. It wasn't that long ago; I couldn't walk down a hallway without being pushed or hit at school, and you did nothing to stop it. I have lusted for you, yet you've made me sad at times. I still need time to work everything out.

"I have several other women in my life, and I have no idea where I stand with any of them. You know me, it takes a while to figure things out. Hell, we haven't even had an actual date yet. We seem to always be around others, so I have no idea what it's like, with just us. Can we talk, tease, have fun? We may have nothing in common. If my album or others take off and go huge, tons of women will want me, and I will have to hide from the world. I think we should enjoy our time together and see where things go. If you need a full-time boyfriend that dotes over you, I'm not that guy now, and I won't hold you back. If I see you with another guy, I will know your answer."

Michelle laughs at me, "After what you did to me last night, no way. You're mine."

*****

That afternoon I got a text message from an unknown number, "Are you busy tonight? I need a date for a charity night dance."

I text back, "Who are you? I don't know this number."

I get a smiley face back and then, "Sara, a.k.a. Shooting Star. I'm tired of old men getting handsy with me and then not being able to dance for the two-hour marathon. I have sponsors; I just need a partner."

Damn. That's a lot of text. I reply, "Sure. What time?"

I get back, "I will pick you up at 7:00. Dress nice. No suit, just nice."

I reply, "See you then."

She replies with a heart. I let Becky know I will make a sandwich tonight because I have a date with a porn star. When Andrea is working, I tell her my plans, otherwise, Becky is next in charge. We typically have dinner at 6:00 or 6:30; I need to shower and dress up, so a sandwich is my dinner.

6:55, I am picked up by Sara. She's in a bright red Corvette convertible. Sara describes herself as a 38FF-30-34 walking sex toy. She is wearing a long black dress with a slit up the side, spaghetti straps on the shoulders, nothing in the back, and way too thin bands of fabric running across her breasts. Obviously, there is no bra, no signs of panty lines, and she's wearing white tennis shoes. Her naturally long blonde hair is curled and is amazing to see.

I have a pair of black beltless slacks, with a bright white button-down shirt. I opted for the black socks and shoes. With two hours of dancing, she probably is the smart one.

At seeing me, Sara points at my house and says, "Get a pair of sneakers. We will be dancing for two straight hours. Trust me; I've done this many times."

I turn around, go inside, swap shoes, much to the disagreement of my sisters, and go back to the great car and the hot woman driving it.

As I get in the car, I comment, "You have commented several times about how I've been a perfect gentleman around your group. I am eighteen, your gorgeous, you're not wearing a bra. I am human, you know."

She smiles at me, "I'm not wearing panties either."

She cackles as we leave for tonight's charity event. We talk about my music and how Becky is helping them with contracts for appearances. I dare say they love her as much as me. It sounds like they have a lot of fun doing events now. I'm glad to hear they're doing well and having fun.

Sara is co-hosting this year. We're at the city museum's central atrium. That means after the main lady talks for twenty minutes about the charity that's being held, Sara and I must get on stage to talk about the rules and how everything works. Sara loves being on stage and being the focus of everyone, not so much for me. I turn the fire engine red as she talks about her date tonight.

About me, Sara says, "My handsome young date tonight is new to these affairs. He's an up-and-coming musician that's making a big splash now. He has a hilarious song that we will play once we're an hour into the night to give you some energy. Then we will play his album that came out days ago and is hot as fire right now.

"I can see half of you rolling your eyes, thinking this is a punk rocker or something. You're wrong. They're sweet songs that are slow and transcend any one genre. I wouldn't subject you to trash; come on now. I want everyone up, and on their feet, now. We will all start with the first song. Thank you."

She's excited and rushes down to the dancefloor. A breast almost pops out as we make our way down. I place my arm around her back and take her hand, just like everyone else in the museum. The music starts.

Sara's excited, "I need to mingle with everyone. We're going to do slow circles and make our way around. OK?"

I laugh lightly, "You realize you could not have picked a worse partner for tonight, right?"

She stares me in the eyes, "You suck at dancing. I know this all too well. We will go slow, and you will lead. However, you will be comfortable leading by the end of two hours. Understand?"

I grin as I say, "Mam. Yes, mam. Private Hal understands clearly."

She giggles as we start moving around the dance floor. She knows everyone by name. She thanks each and every one of them for attending and their donations. She says many will offer $1,000 for every five minutes. This is the type of deal where each person gets donors that promise to contribute; the couple stays dancing every five minutes. If they donate $100 and last the two hours, that's $2,400. That's a lot of money.

It doesn't take long before I feel comfortable and lead us around the dancefloor. Since she's greeting people, there is not much for me to do right now but steer us towards people she hasn't talked to yet.

At forty-five minutes, she has welcomed and thanked everyone personally. When we finish, she leans into me and places her head on my shoulder. I draw her in closer. Her arms are around my neck; mine are around her waist and touching her ass a bit.

She exhales as she says, "Had I met a man like you ten years ago, I never would have started acting. Many of us had bad experiences or are just plain sluts. I will admit, I was a bit of a slut. I love sex, still do. So, I hear you had a guest last night. Want to talk about it?"

I speak softly into her ear; she purrs like a cat in response.

I say, "Michelle was my dream girl. She broke my heart, but she came to me. I expected sex to be ... oh, I don't know. Different."

Sara asks, "She wasn't any good? Inexperienced? Scared? What?"

I search for words before responding, "It was OK. I expected sensational. I got her off many times with nipples and when I ate her. Fucking her was fun, but it lacked ... it lacked the extra connection like I have with my girlfriends. I expected more from her."

I sigh, "Is it because of her previous treatment, how she disappointed me, or is it too early in our relationship?"

Sara snickers, "We all know who your girlfriends are." I pull back. She resists. "It's OK. We understand. You're seeing the difference between sex with a friend versus sex with a lover. You don't love Michelle. Well, not yet. Was there anything else?"

I stumble on my words, and she responds by pressing her breasts into me.

I finally get out, "Oh, how do I say this without pissing you off. Yikes. Ok, let me put it this way. Your job for many years was to have sex in various ways with men of ... abnormal size. She's in high school and looked well used."

Sara asks me, "Would you have sex with me?"

I answer, "Now that I know you, it could happen."

She traps me, "What's the difference? You know we're both high mileage, you don't expect her to be, but we're similar. I probably have five to ten times the experience, yet you would screw me."

I don't allow that, "Oh no. I would never just screw anyone. I only try to make love to you. I failed with Michelle. If what you say is true, then I am the problem."

Sara is happy now, "Now you got it. However. If she is a slut, she may cheat on you. Why does she suddenly want you? That's the bigger issue. She allowed you to get abused, which shows a lack of caring. Now that you might become rich, she wants to sleep with you. I find that more troubling."

The DJ comes on the mic now with her rich, deep, and loud voice, "OK, Everyone. Time to show off some local talent. This is the first song from Hal, Sara's date, followed by his new album. All songs are also sung by a new local artist. If you want to download any of this music, look at any of the major online music websites for 'The Cheshire Cats.' Now have fun and keep dancing!"

I hear that now all so familiar intro to my song. Sara pulls back, so we can enter the classic dance pose. Her smile is radiant, as if she's proud of me. I see the smirk on her face as the words are sung, and the crowd chuckles.

Sara says, "She does have a wonderful voice. Can you hear the music, though? It's a perfect volume by Jeremy. It crashes with the punch line and flirts with the setup. It reminds me of a fairy tale, yet the sound is more complex. It's always perfectly accompanying the words. I love this song. Notice how old and young are laughing. Your concerts will be as diverse as our country; that's never happened before."

As the song turns sexy, the room is silent as Heidi and Lauren sing the last verse together. The room is suddenly more humid and smells of sex. No kidding, this is cool.

Sara blushes, "That's not just me."

Like most women in the room, she is now much closer to their date. Sara reaches for a quick, soft kiss as my album starts playing. It begins with a playful intro that isn't fast or flashy, just fun. The room is full of energy again.

Sara looks me in the eyes, "They are special women. Your song shows your love which shows in the song. Keep looking at me; all the other women here are looking at you with hunger and admiration. They want you writing a song about them just like this."

My eyes browse the room, not looking at anyone in general. SHE'S RIGHT! That shook my world. I had no idea I could affect people like this.

I look at Sara, "My world is going to change. How do I deal with it?"

She smiles at me, "Foreign countries, disguises, and you stay inside your house. At least half the country doesn't want to rip your clothes off, but I suspect with you, that won't be true. You'll just have to learn how to cut men's hair."

A laugh out loud.

I reply, "I think I will stick with my girlfriends."

Sara is serious with me, "Reporters will start stalking you soon to find out who your girlfriends are; come see the girls and me. That's why you're here now, so you can be seen publicly with us."

She laughs at my shocked expression.

Sara amusingly continues, "We were all famous and in the rags all the time. Besides, it will help your reputation. I know. I know. You don't want any of this. Nobody does. Your fans want it, and it will make you rich. However, being rich and famous come at a price."

I astutely ask, "Is it worth it?"

Sara shows her intelligence and wisdom, "My friends and I would say yes, Jeremy would say no. We're both happy. I would normally say you have a choice. With your songs already out there under your name, Jeremy may have already made that decision for you."

I inquire, "Would a Public Relations spokesman help make it easier?"

Sara pauses, "We didn't have the money to do that. PR firms are more for companies and the super-rich. To answer your question, yes, I believe it would help a lot. They become that target for much of the information as it's easier to reach them. Reporters will take the path of least resistance for mundane info."

I inform Sara, "Emma is now majoring in PR. She wants to be my spokesman. I'm all for it."

Sara warns me, "With the extra access, your girlfriends might get jealous. Be careful; you're playing with fire now."

I grin at her, "Not really. Gail will be my personal assistant. She gets to schedule everything. I want her juggling the fire."

Sara purrs, "That's what I like about you. A man must know his limitations. You solve those limitations with women who already love you."

Looking vulnerable and innocent now, Sara asks, "Is there any room for others in your life?"

I answer, "I don't expect my girlfriends to last. They want to get married and have children. Those words have not been said, but I know it's true. I have no idea about my future with Michelle. I assumed she was the one, but I'm not so sure now. There is a group at school, but they mean nothing to me. How can I ever meet anyone where I know they like me for me?"

Sara looks at me like I'm dumb, "You have Heidi, Lauren, and me still. Technically, all the retired porn stars would like you, but I like you the most."

I blush as I say, "Remember the story I told of my mom finding the magazines? The centerfold dad pulled out was you. All my magazines had you. I've tried hard not to drool at you every time we've met. To me, you're still a perfect eleven."

I get a kiss and get a hard hug for that.

She whispers in my ear, "I only modeled when I was eighteen. That was some rough times back then. I will admit, I don't miss it. Sex on camera isn't nearly as fun as sex with someone you love. It's even worse with several other people and bright lights all around. You saw that with Michelle. It just isn't the same.

"We're all desperate to find love. It's a lot like you foresee; men remember us from the movies or only see our sexy bodies. It's hard to be more."

I finish her sentence, "Hence, the desire to do charity work. You get to meet and work with people. You're striving hard to be more than just a pretty woman that previously had sex for a living."

She chuckles, "That's an interesting way to look at it. We look back on it as a job. We tried out for roles, went to work, and instead of getting dressed up for work, we stripped our clothes off for work. Then we let them do just about anything they wanted to us. We knew what was expected upfront, but some of the lines blurred while shooting. I had no problems walking away when I was done."

It wasn't long, and they had a countdown for the end.

Sara says quickly, "I have to run and collect money. I'll find you."

She ran off, leaving me on the dance floor. Half of each couple got in line to turn in checks. The other half and I got a drink. While in line, several guys come my way, say, "Sara," in a sexy voice, and then use two fingers on one hand to make an "O" and then use another finger from the other hand to push through the "O" in a fucking motion. I completely ignore them.

Some other guys come up to me, "So. You and Sara, huh? How much?"

I almost hit him. However, I already know how that would end up.

Instead, I almost yell at them, "We are friends! Just because she's a retired porn star, that doesn't make her a whore or a hooker! Is that how you get women? You have to pay for them! GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, GO FIND A STREET CORNER TO BUY A WHORE, NOT HERE!"

I am breathing hard, my face is red, and EVERYONE is watching. Security separates us and guides the man away.

I have never met the older woman about ten feet away, talking to several other women. They're all staring at me. I feel terrible now. I let Sara down by ruining her event. My head hangs in shame.

The old lady claps her hands. She makes an exaggerated motion and claps them again. Others join her.

A younger woman throws her arms around me, "Thank you. They are assholes at every event they attend."

Everyone around me is clapping, and then it fades out. I feel the need to say something.

I blush as I say, "Sorry. That was the second group that made a rude comment about my date. I've never been to one of these things before, but that's rude. Rich, or poor; rude is rude. Sorry for disturbing your night."

There is now a group of women of all ages and colors around me. They're discussing the general bad manners of the men that usually attend these functions.

I add my two cents, "If it were me, I would blackball them. They can still send in a check. I bet for every one of those assholes, there are two or more that never show up because of them. You start getting a good reputation, and maybe the nice, quiet people come back."

Another lady adds, "I stopped organizing events because of them. They don't donate much. They're only here looking for dates. If I could blackball some, I would do more. I like that idea."

Another old and frail woman says, "I saw you come in with Sara. She's a sweetheart. I love your music, by the way."

Another says, "That was you? Yes, that first song was hilarious and sexy at the end. I liked the different styles for the next songs. It was obviously the same singer, but she sounded so different."

Sara surprises me by hugging me from behind, kissing me, and then adding, "Same voice, it's the music that changed. That's what makes Hal special. Now don't get me wrong, Heidi is amazing. He set the tempo and the mood. They really work well together. Another singer can't follow along or have a natural feel for the song. But those songs were memorable because of the music.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but I need to get this stud here home. He's not mine, just a last-minute stand-in to help me out. I am thrilled he came; the two hours flew by like nothing."

The women say goodbye, and I'm guided out of the building.

Once outside the building, Sara stops me and asks, "I had a wonderful night. The two hours went too fast. Would you like to spend some more time with me ... tonight?"

I look at her and say, "Sara, you are still as beautiful as you were when you were modeling. You are still every man's fantasy."

She has a world of hurt in her eyes as she says, "But ...."

I continue, "But, it's a school night, and agreeing to this was a knee-jerk reaction. This wasn't an actual date. We're taking advantage of the situation. Right now, this is you wanting to get laid."

Sara is almost in tears as she hugs me.

I pause for effect. Smile, which she can't see, then ask, "How about dinner Friday night? Let's do a proper date. Your place or mine. Go for a romantic walk in a park. Then. If you want. We can go someplace."

She has me by my arms, looking at me with shock.

She asks me, "And then ...."

I smile and chuckle as I suggest, "Oh ... how about we reshoot, 'Brother, why are you in my room?' We do it the Hal way. I may not have a nine-inch cock, but I think I can do everything else better than that loser did. Was he gay? My God, it's like he had no interest in you."

Sara nearly squeezes the life out of me, "That was a terrible movie. His father was shot and killed a week before the shoot. He was never into it. Yes, you can't do worse."

I comfort her by hugging her back, "I want an actual date with you. I don't want you distracted by other people. I want this to be us. We can have dinner with my sisters, they would like to meet you, at your place, or at a restaurant. Afterward, your place, my place, or a motel room. Let Gail know your intentions; she schedules me now.