Spiderman - Betty Brant Pt. 01 Ch. 01

Disclaimer for the entire series:

Everyone in this story - and in real life - are 18+ years of age.

All locations, art and music in this story are real.

Any celebrity actions or motives similar to their real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Part 1 (Chapters 1-5) to be released ASAP. Part 2 (Chapters 2-10) to be released next week. Part 3 TBD.

Tags are set for each chapter, not the series as a whole.

This story was originally intended to be somewhat one-dimensional. However, as I began to write it started developing into an engaging story that explores deeper and darker themes. So in saying that, some scenes may be disturbing for some readers.

This is my first published story, so I'm interested to hear some feedback from the Literotica community. Thanks!

Disclaimer for this chapter: null

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Chapter 1 - The Party

Angourie focused with excitement on the eighteen candles in front of her, as the reflection of the flames brightened her young, radiant teenage face. Her wide smile emanated across the room, displaying to the world just how happy she felt.

Promising young actress Angourie Rice had just turned eighteen. The blonde Australian had starred in a number of Hollywood films in recent years, and for the last few months had been shooting Spiderman: Far From Home in Europe. She was playing the role of Betty Brant, one of Spiderman's high school friends.

In a fashionably gothic Prague hotel room, Angourie sat at the head of an old oak table. A few seats down sat Tom Holland, the star actor who plays Spiderman himself. Positioned next to her was the multi-talented brunette Zendeya (which, to her surprise when they'd met, was actually her real name). She plays Spideman's love interest Mary Jane, and gripped Angourie's hand with a ferocious grin. Nearby stood the bubbly American-Asian actor Jacob Batalon, her other friend and co-worker who plays the role of Spiderman's best friend Ned.

In the back of the room stood some of the production crew who she'd befriended in recent months, alongside celebrity actors Samuel L. Jackson, Cobie Smulders, Jon Favreau, Marisa Tomei, and Jake Gyllenhaal, all smiling and raising their wine glasses in anticipation.

She struggled to imagine a better place to celebrate finally becoming an adult. Zendeya, who'd she'd grown quite close with in recent months shooting the movie, had secretly organised the party with people from the shoot. Zendeya was insistent that Angourie properly celebrated becoming a woman.

However, Angourie knew she still had a teenage look to her. She had a sweet, petite, blonde, pale appearance, and was relatively short.

She had cemented her role in Hollywood during her teen years playing the typical shy, innocent child. The Beguiled with the hunky Colin Farrell, The Nice Guys with Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling, and most recently the Black Mirror episode 'Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too' alongside Miley Cyrus, who she'd been ecstatic to work alongside with, was just some of her recent work.

'Hang on!' yelled Jon Favreau, right before Angourie started blowing out the candles on the cake. 'We forgot to sing Happy Birthday! They still do that in Australia right?'

He got a stern look from Samuel L. Jackson. 'Bitch please, she's a woman now - she doesn't need everyone singing Happy Birthday in her face.'

Angourie just giggled. 'No, no, you're right Jon', she replied, in her natural, friendly Australian accent. 'Come on everyone, sing for me. I'm clearly the biggest star here.'

Angourie had always prided herself on her sense of humour. Her agent said her maturity had helped her take the leap into Hollywood. She knew that if she couldn't dominate a room full of people older than herself, she could at least make an impression. It was a good way to conceal her natural quietness.

Almost as if on cue, the twenty or so people in the room started to sing Happy Birthday. They swerved and raised their wine glasses throughout the song, the adults obviously becoming more than tipsy. At the end, she stood and bowed, sarcastically thanking everyone.

Today was the first of January, an unusual date for someone's birthday, but it never bothered her. Angourie wasn't a fussy person, and to reflect this she simply wore a casual sky-blue polka dot dress with limited makeup.

From one of the nearby windows, the lively Prague street was inviting, and she was looking forward to wandering the city with her friends later on. However, their room was currently warm and glowing with the people around her.

Today she was eighteen. Smiling, she began to blow out the candles one by one, and Angourie came to the realisation that she was finally an adult.

**

After everyone had enjoyed some of the cake, Angourie took the time to meet and greet some of the others she didn't know at the party. She spent a considerable amount of time walking around, shaking hands, smiling, and mingling, getting to know some of the production crew who'd made the effort to celebrate her birthday.

It's the least I can do, thought Angourie.

'Happy birthday rockstar,' came a familiar voice, coming from behind.

Angourie turned.

'Hey Cobie', she replied with a smile.

Angourie grew up knowing Cobie Smulders from her days playing Robin in the hit sitcom How I Met Your Mother, but in recent years she'd cemented her role as Maria Hill in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. She was a tall, radiant figure, wearing a long red dress, and had clearly helped herself to a few wines.

As Jacob noted earlier, Cobie was looking 'fine as fuck'.

'You look good!' Cobie remarked. She was dancing slightly to the distant beat of a tune.

Angourie smiled. 'Thank you!'

'Still going out tonight?'

Angourie was eager to explore Prague afterwards with Tom, Zendeya and Jacob, who'd all come up with the idea to go out and embrace the local culture (and maybe visit some nightclubs).

'Yep! Sure am.'

Cobie leaned in to whisper something, which was a considerable effort considering the height difference. Angourie respectfully pretended not to notice Cobie's slipping cleavage so close to her face.

'If you need some more company...shoot me a text.'

Without warning, Cobie licked Angourie's teenage face. It was fast and sensual, and Angourie closed her eyes and gasped.

Angourie then blushed and looked down in embarrassment, but Cobie just grinned, stuck her tongue out in a teasing motion, and winked. Moments later, she disappeared through the crowd.

Startled, Angourie took a moment to gather herself.

That was odd, she thought.

However, before she could think about it for too long, she spotted Tom and Jacob setting up SingStar, and within minutes they were performing an interesting rendition of Miley Cyrus and Mark Ronson's "Nothing Breaks Like a Heart".

As the crowd gathered by the two actors singing, Angourie took the opportunity to get away and have a bit of quiet time to herself.

Seeing the crowd cheer the duo on, who both stood on two dodgy-looking chairs, Angourie snuck to the back wall of the hotel room. She spotted some antique paintings hanging from the wall, encased in ornate frames.

A number of the paintings caught her eye: old portraits, nature paintings, and what looked like meaningless splashes across a canvas. Reading the descriptions of each painting, she recognised a few familiar names: Van Gogh, Picasso, Rembrandt.

Angourie had always had a deep admiration for 'high life' culture: art, classical music, poetry. It was something that had always gnawed at her, growing up in Australia she felt remiss not knowing much, if anything, of upper-class society.

She stopped at a peculiar piece by William Blake, an etching titled "The Ancient of Days" and studied it. It was a fierce image of god pointing down from heaven to what looked like a pyramid made of two arms, and Angourie tried to dissect its meaning.

Apart from something basic about god giving humans power, Angourie gave up, feeling embarrassed that she couldn't decipher any deeper meaning. She sighed, reaching for her phone to check her Instagram.

Instagram, Facebook, Spiderman...this is the life I know, Angourie thought.

'You like it?'

'Huh?' Angourie looked up from the screen of her phone and turned to see a familiar face behind her. Tall, brunette, and ageing like a fine wine, Marisa Tomei gave her a smile.

'Oh, yes' Angourie remarked, suddenly realising Marisa meant the artwork. 'I do, very much so. It's depiction of god, is...well, grand.'

Grand? Oh god, Angourie thought, embarrassed by her own description.

Marisa let out a small chuckle. Tonight, she was wearing fashionably high jeans and a green tank top, much like her character Aunt May in the film. Tom Holland had described Marisa as the sexiest fake aunt on the planet, bragging he'd once spotted Marisa's brown-pink nipples when shooting a scene, but Angourie just rolled her eyes when he'd told her.

'Tell me', began Marisa, stepping up beside Angourie, 'this work, what does it make you feel?'

Angourie shuffled, sniffing the sweet flora scent of Marisa's perfume as she gave it some thought.

'It, err, it makes me feel...afraid.'

Marisa turned to her. 'Why afraid?'

'Well,' Angourie started, making up her answer on the spot. She tilted her head in curiosity, examining the image.

'God is shown here with incredible power, but it isn't clear what his motive is regarding the people below. Is he granting the two outstretched arms - us - power? Or is he pitying us, stopping us even - from climbing up to his level?'

And then, Angourie had a thought.

'Or, maybe he's afraid of us.'

Marisa edged her on with a smile. 'Keep going.'

Angourie continued. 'We don't know what his true motive is, I guess - and that's the whole point, right? Does he want to help us, give us the power to help us be who we can be? Or...'

She stumbled, trying to find the right words.

'Or... is he condemning us to a life of false hope? Are we just naive, being manipulated, pawns in his own game?'

She turned her gaze to Marisa, with a grin.

Was that it? It sounded smart, Angourie mused.

Marisa regarded her ardently, an impressed smile forming on her pretty face. She then turned confidently back to the piece.

'This work,' began Marisa, 'reflects the French Revolution, and mankind's violent reaction to a repressive and materialistic society. The deity isn't actually god as most people presume, but Urizen, a fictional deity invented by Blake himself. It acts as a repressive force, impeding the positive power of imagination and life.'

'Oh.' Angourie muttered, interested.

As the music died down, Marisa spoke delicately. 'The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.'

Angourie turned to her, impressed. 'Who said that?'

Marisa pointed to the painting. 'Blake did.'

Angourie smirked, impressed that Blake was a poet and a painter, but also that Marisa knew that. The pair looked at each other, sharing a smile.

'Your friends are up there singing a Miley Cyrus song, and you're here admiring the fine arts. I've got to say, there aren't many like you left in the world.'

'Like me?' asked Angourie, curiously. The pair slowly began walking towards the crowd, listening to the two 'talented' singers.

They should stick to acting, thought Angourie with a quiet snigger.

'Like you,' Marisa repeated. 'someone who not only appreciates the finer things in life, but actually wants to. You know, you're very mature for your age.'

Angourie felt a jolt of pride shoot through her. She felt incredibly flattered, grateful even, that someone of Marisa's stature felt that way about her. She let out a beaming smile.

Marisa's attention turned to the duo of young actors, who were right in the middle of the chorus:

'Nothing brreaaks like a heaaartt!'

'You know,' Marisa said quietly, 'they should really stick to acting.'

Angourie laughed, enjoying the fact that the two had shared the same thought. As Marisa watched ahead, slightly bopping her head to the tune, Angourie watched her, smiling. She was starting to feel a great admiration for Marisa, her knowledge of the arts and humour made Angourie feel a level excitement she hadn't in a long time. She was excited that she was getting to know her better... even more excited that Marisa wanted to get to know her.

Could this be my first real adult friendship? she imagined, hopefully.

Beaming with delight, she turned back to the singing duo who had just finished their 'marvellous' rendition of Miley Cyrus to rapturous applause. Angourie and Marisa joined in.

'I've filmed it!' yelled one person.

'Get ready for a million YouTube views!' yelled another.

'And a billion retweets!'

The crowd laughed, including Angourie and Marisa.

'Don't worry, everyone!' cried Tom, 'we're just getting started!' Angourie could see Tom and Jacob then pressing some buttons on the computer screen, and the tune for the late Avicci's "Waiting For Love" began playing in the stereo system. The crowd roared with anticipation.

As Angourie saw themselves getting ready for the lyrics to start playing, she and Marisa were joined by a familiar face, coming up through the crowd.

'Hey guys,' said a friendly Jake Gyllenhaal with a wave.

'Hi!' Angourie shouted, over the noise. Marisa greeted him with a curt nod. He wore a smart casual suit, and had his brown hair slicked behind.

He looked down to Angourie, raising his voice over the crowd.

'I didn't know you were a William Blake fan!'

Angourie looked surprised. 'How did you know that?'

'I spotted you earlier!' he replied, 'with Marisa here!'

'Don't pretend you know any of Blake's work,' Marisa remarked, with a cheeky venom in her voice.

'Oh yeah?' he said over the voices of Jacob and Tom, who'd both started singing with renewed enthusiasm.

Jake cleared his throat:

'I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.'

Angourie stared at him with a startled smile.

Jake knows the fine arts too? Angourie wondered.

Jake smiled back at her, and then turned to Marisa.

'Can you even name that poem?'

'"A Poison Tree", 1794,' Marisa replied immediately, 'And it's not a poem, it's the first stanza. Do you know what a stanza is, Jake?'

Jake scoffed, and turned backed to Angourie, who was enjoying the banter between the two intellectuals.

'Angourie, what did you think of it?'

Before she could answer, Angourie thought of her friends spending their time talking about Ed Sheeran, quoting Friends, or in the case of her guy-friends, boobs boobs boobs.

But here, she felt alive, challenged. She felt like an adult - who she wanted to be.

'Angourie?' Jake repeated.

Angourie came back from her daze.

'Yes, sorry! It was good, it...it describes the relationship between...'

'Sorry Angourie,' interrupted Jake over the loud music, 'I can't hear you.'

'I said,' she repeated, projecting herself louder, 'the poem had...'

Jake pointed to his ears and shook his head, indicating he still couldn't hear.

'Let's go somewhere quieter!' Angourie offered to Jake and Marisa, over the blaring music. They both nodded, and Marisa led the way, leading the trio through the dense, rocking crowd and towards the back, near one of the bedroom doors.

'As I was trying to say,' Angourie repeated to Marisa and Jake, now able to hear the sound of her own voice, 'the poem was about someone who's angry at both her friend and her enemy. She's able to tell her friend how she feels, but not her enemy, and the discord inside her grows.'

Jake and Marisa both nodded, curiously.

'I suppose it's about our inability to be honest with ourselves when we need to be?'

'That's right. That's a really good analysis, Angourie,' said Marisa, impressed.

'It was!' Jake said excitedly. 'You're really mature for your age, did you know that?'

Angourie beamed and looked to the floor, blushing. 'Really?'

'Of course! Hey, I'll go get some drinks!'

Jake disappeared through the crowd of people, and Angourie turned to Marisa.

'What should we discuss now? Should we examine more paintings?'

'That sounds great,' Marisa agreed, 'but as I'm sure you agree, the artwork out here is quite monotonous.'

Angourie nodded, not wanting to seem like she didn't know what Marisa meant.

'How about we try in there?' offered Angourie, directing to the door behind them.

'Sure. But what about Jake?'

'Oh, yeah.' Angourie looked out the crowd of dancing people, and back to Marisa. 'I'm sure he'll find us. If he can recite poems word for word from his head, I'm sure he'll work out where we went.'

Marisa laughed. 'Agreed,' the petite brunette replied. She opened the door for Angourie and she entered first, and once Marisa came in the door shut behind her. Angourie could hear a faint click, which sounded like a lock, but she dismissed it as something else.

The room was basic, windowless with one queen sized bed in the centre, and unfortunately no artwork. The room was dimly lit, brightened only by an old lamp on the bedside table.

Damn, thought Angourie. She turned back to Marisa, who was watching Angourie with a fierce determination.

She looked around helplessly. 'Nothing here.'

'No, but we are.' Marisa replied drily. She took a few closer steps to Angourie and brushed the blonde hair from the front of her face with a precise calmness.

'You really are so smart and mature for your age, Angourie.'

Angourie blushed again. 'Thanks.'

Marisa leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper:

'You look really cute tonight.'

'Thanks, I guess.' Angourie smiled.

But suddenly, she gasped.

To her shock, Marisa moved her hand down, and slowly started caressing Angourie's pale leg, just below the bottom of her dress. Feeling goosebumps on her smooth skin, she then felt Marisa's hand disappearing up inside the dress.

Angourie looked around quickly, making sure no one had come through the door.

'Marisa, what are you doing?' she said, with a pressed urgency.

Marisa met Angourie's timid blue eyes with her own, rotating her tongue across her lips. It was hypnotic, and Angourie was worried Maria might lean in to kiss her.

However, all thoughts quickly melted away as Angourie felt Marisa's exploring hand brush up against her underwear.

Angourie squealed nervously and quickly composed herself, moving Marisa's hand out from under the sky-blue dress.

Marisa giggled and persisted, and Angourie had to look once more to make sure Jake or no one else was coming through the door. They weren't.

Marisa ignored Angourie's reluctance and moved her hand up Angourie's skinny white thigh a second time, this time more swiftly and with slightly more fervour.

'Marisa...' Angourie whispered.

Marisa ignored her, smiling widely and again sticking her tongue out in a sensual-teasing motion.

Once more, she slowly raised her creeping hand back underneath Angourie's innocent dress. It slid up against the inside of her trembling teenage thigh, and eventually found Angourie's panties a second time.

But this time it wasn't a soft touch. Still meeting Angourie's nervous eyes, Marisa's fingers glided slowly back and forth across the front of her panties.

Once, twice, three times.

Angourie fought back a desperate groan. The touch was soft and gentle.

Angourie could then feel Marisa's fingers softly tickling the gap between her upper-inner thigh and panties, determined, as if asking for permission. Angourie gasped quietly, closing her eyes.

Seconds later, she moved a finger inside Angourie's panties...

Angourie shrieked and moved away. She pushed Marisa, her hand slipping out from under Angourie's dress. She looked around anxiously, not at anything in particular, but just in shock, fear.