Starlight's Secret

When it came time to pay his tab, Charlie tipped thirty bucks on a twenty dollar charge. Mindy's eyes widened when she saw, and handed him his receipt with a wink. Charlie was about to put it into his pocket, when he noticed how oddly stiff it felt. Upon closer inspection, Mindy had slipped a business card in with the bill. The front of the card read "Mindy Maneater," and had the Honey Pot's logo, address, and phone number. On the back of a card was a handwritten note that said, "Call me 1-xxx-xxxx."

"Nice, dude," Gary congratulated, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"So, you had a great time with your mom?" asked Bruce, in the car.

"She's not my—"

"Mother, yeah, we know," finished Bruce. Charlie sighed. "Does she have a twin sister, maybe?"

"Nope. Only child," Charlie replied.

"You sure?"

"God damn it. Yes, I'm sure."

"Something's not right here."

Bruce dropped him off at his house fifteen minutes later. Drunk and tired, Charlie went straight to bed, and fell asleep within seconds.

The smell of pancakes and bacon wafted in through the door the next morning, and woke Charlie up. Stella was in the kitchen, loading a stack of pancakes onto a plate when he stumbled in.

"Good morning, champ!"

"Morning, Mom."

"Congrats on winning your game last night. Did you have a fun time celebrating?"

"Uh, yeah, it was ok." He couldn't exactly tell her he'd gone to a strip club to see a stripper that looked just like her, and then gotten dry-humped by a waitress.

"Just ok?"

The light of the morning sun shone right in her face when she sat down at the table, and Charlie dropped his fork.

"Everything alright?"

"Um, uh, yeah," he stammered. With the light hitting her just right, she looked so much like Starlight, he could have sworn it was her. But then she looked at him, with her big, brown eyes—not blue—and he knew it couldn't be.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Mom." Memories of the previous night bubbled to the top of his mind, and he quickly became uncomfortable with a growing erection.

"Why are you fidgeting around so much?"

"I just really need to pee," he lied.

"Go pee then," she said, and rolled her eyes at him.

Charlie rushed upstairs. As soon as he closed to the door to his room behind him, he pulled out his hard dick, and started masturbating. In his mind, he replayed the events of last night, but every time he pictured Starlight, his mental image changed to his own mother. The thought of his mother, the quiet and unassuming cook, splayed nearly naked on the stage, with hundreds of strangers watching her was incredibly arousing, and he shot rope after rope of cum on the ground.

Immediately after climaxing, he felt incredibly guilty. He knew he wasn't supposed to think that way about her, and how incredibly pissed she would be if she ever found out, but the thoughts came of their own accord.

When he came back downstairs, his mother had already finished eating, and he had a hard time looking into her eyes. He suddenly remembered what his team captain had said in the car last night. An idea popped into his head.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm doing a project for a class right now, and we're supposed to draw a family tree."

"And you want to know about your dad?" Charlie's father had walked out on her while she was pregnant with him, and she never told Charlie any details about him.

"No, it's about your half."

"I think you know as much as I do. We never really kept a family history, so there's not much to it."

"I was actually wondering if you had any siblings."

"You know I don't."

"Yeah, but are you sure?"

"I think I would remember if I had one."

"So there's like no long lost twin?"

She grabbed his hand, and gently stroked it with her thumb in a comforting manner. "No, honey, it's just me." The moment her skin touched his, memories of Starlight, naked and wrapped around a pole, rushed back, and he gulped.

"Uh, ok, thanks."

"Any more questions?"

"No." He did, in fact, have a lot more questions. Like if she had a secret identity as a stripper, or whether or not she had a tramp stamp with the words "cum whore" written on them, but he couldn't bring himself to ask either.

"If you're done with breakfast, I'll drive you to campus."

"Ok. Thanks, Mom."

Stella dropped him off at Southport College ten minutes later. Gary was miming in the air, as if he was trying to squeeze something, when Charlie walked into the lecture hall.

"Oh hey, Charlie," Gary greeted him. "I was just telling Bruce here how beautiful your stripper mom's tits were."

"She's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah, we know."

"And you're sure she's a cook?" asked Bruce.

"For fuck's sake, yes. I've been there. Several times." She had the job for as long as he could remember. Jameson's Grill was a fancy four star restaurant that specialized in grilled and barbecued meals. It was too expensive for them to eat there regularly, but every year, on his birthday, she treated him to a superb meal, on the house. Sometimes, when he borrowed the car, he'd end up picking her up from work, and while he waited for her to finish up, Babs, the proprietor and friend of his mother, would sneak him some wonderful desserts. On his eighteenth birthday, he had even been on a tour of the kitchen.

"Alright then, no need to get so defensive. But you have to admit, it's really weird."

Throughout the day, Bruce's words nagged at him. The more he thought about it, the less sure he was that his mother actually worked in the restaurant. Thinking about restaurants, the waitress from last night popped into his memory. To get his mind off the frustrating situation, he dug the card Mindy had slipped him out of his pocket, and dialed the number on the back.

"Hello?" answered a woman's voice.

"Hey, uh...Mindy? This is Charlie. From last night."

"Oh, hey," she answered, instantly sounding more cheerful. "Didn't expect you to call so soon."

"Well, I can't get you out of my mind."

"Aw, how cute."

"Do you want to grab a coffee or something?"

"Hmm...I'd like to, but I'm working. How about tomorrow, noonish?"

"Sure, that works. Where should I pick you up?"

"At the Honey Pot."

"You live there?"

"No, but I live within walking distance."

"Oh, I'll see you tomorrow at noon, then."

They made their goodbyes, and hung up. Charlie felt much better after the call, and was eager to see Mindy again. He managed to successfully put the identity question out of his mind for the rest of day, and retired early to bed, still a little bit sore from the game. Stella worked the late shift at the restaurant, and wouldn't be home before midnight.

That night, he dreamed of his mother and Mindy, dancing together on the stage of the Honey Pot. All around them, the Southport Greyhounds cheered on as the two women on the stage undressed each other. Mindy knelt on the floor, and placed her mouth between his mother's legs. With wild, loud moans, his mother writhed in pleasure, and ran her hands all over her body.

Charlie woke up with a raging hardon, and a smile on his face. He pulled his cock out of his boxers, and furiously jacked off, until he erupted in a mind-blowing orgasm, shooting ropes of cum all over his bare chest. Shortly after, the guilt set in, and he wondered what was wrong with him. The thought of his mother being eaten out in front of a crowd of people had been incredibly arousing, but he knew it was wrong. How would his mother react if she found out? He cursed Gary and Bruce for twisting his thoughts.

The smell of breakfast drew him out of bed, and after quickly cleaning up the mess, he joined his mother in the downstairs kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetie."

"Morning, Mom." Her t-shirt stretched tightly across her chest, and Charlie tried his best not to stare.

"You ok? You're acting a little weird."

"Yeah," he denied. Eager to change the subject, he asked, "Mom, could I borrow the car later?"

"Sure, what do you need it for?"

"I've got a date."

"Ooh, a date!" she replied excitedly. "With who?"

"Just someone I met at the party on Thursday."

"Is she cute?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"Oh, a cute girl, huh? In that case, you can definitely have the car. I'll get a ride from Babs, so feel free to spend all day on your date. Or all night." She winked at him.

"Mom!" he protested, but she just rolled her eyes at him.

Charlie arrived at the Honey Pot parking lot ten minutes early. He got out, and leaned against the trunk of the car. The March air was unusually warm, and he closed his eyes to let the sun shine on his face.

Footsteps approached, and he opened his eyes. Mindy walked towards him, dressed casually in faded jeans and white blouse, her brown hair tied into a ponytail.

"Hello, Mindy," he greeted her, with a hopefully dazzling smile.

"Hey, Charlie." She came to a stop just in front of him. "Before we go on our date, there's something you should know, though."

"What's that?"

"My name's not actually Mindy, that's just my stage name. My real name is Sandra."

"Oh." He chided himself for not realizing that sooner, but recovered quickly. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Sandra." He held out his hand, and she shook it.

"So," she said, and leaned against the car next to him, "what are we going to do today?"

Charlie gulped. He hadn't actually planned that far ahead. He remembered saying something about coffee on the phone, and suggested, "We could drive around until we find a Starbucks, or something. There's gotta be one around here."

"There's a few, but I know of something better."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, come on." She grabbed his hand, and led him out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" asked Charlie, after they had walked for a few minutes.

"It's this great little spot, everyone from the Honey Pot goes there to eat."

They walked another minute, then Sandra suddenly halted in front of a door. Just above the door hung a small sign that just read "Blake's" in stylized script. If Sandra hadn't pointed it out, he never would have given it a second glance.

Behind the door was a steep, narrow, carpeted staircase. They went up, and Charlie found himself standing in a dimly lit, cozy room. Scattered around the room were large, plush sofas, arranged into circles around coffee tables. Everything smelt like freshly baked goods. He couldn't help but instantly feel like he was at home here, as if he were visiting his grandmother.

"This is really nice," he commented.

An older woman with graying hair rounded the corner. She was short and heavy set, but wore a kind face, and gave off the air of a doting parent.

"Sandra! Good to see you, child," she said, with a heavy English accent.

"Hey, Blake!" replied Sandra, and they hugged.

"And who's this fine gentleman?"

"That's Charlie, he's taking me out on a date."

Charlie offered his hand, but Blake stepped past the outstretched hand, and embraced him in a tight hug. "Welcome to my little corner of the world, Charlie."

"Thanks. This place looks really great."

"Mmm, good looking and nice, I can see why you let him court you, Sandra. Say, you look familiar somehow, have we met before?"

"No, I don't think so." He was sure he would have remembered if they did.

"No? Well, no matter. What can I get you two?"

"Vanilla coffees and some banoffee pie, for the both of us," Sandra ordered, and pulled him towards one of the couches. Apart from the two of them, there didn't seem to be any other customers.

"What is this place?" asked Charlie. Sandra sat down right next to him.

"It's the best coffee place in Southport. Everyone from the Honey Pot comes here to relax."

"It seems really nice. Speaking of the Honey Pot, how long have you been working there?"

"I started two years ago, when I was nineteen."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh yeah, it's great. The money's real good, and it's a lot of fun."

"I have to admit, I've never known an uh..."

"Stripper?" she suggested.

"I was gonna say exotic dancer," he admitted, sheepishly, and Sandra burst into giggles.

"It's ok, I'm not ashamed of what I do."

"Are you usually, uh, this friendly with people you just met?"

"Charlie! Are you asking me if I'm a slut?"

"What? No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just—" Sandra actually started laughing.

"Oh, you should see your face right now!" After she finished laughing, she continued in a more serious tone, "I know girls aren't supposed to say it, but I kind of am a slut. Although I don't normally make guys cream their pants giving them a lap dance. Well, at least not intentionally."

"You mean you wanted to do that?"

"Uh huh. You were kind of a special situation."

"Special how?"

Blake came back in the room, carrying a tray with two plates, and two large mugs. She set the tray down on the table, and said to Charlie, "I hope you like it."

"Thanks, Blake," thanked Sandra, and Blake retreated to the back again. The two mugs contained coffee, with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream floating in the middle. On each plate was a slice of pie, consisting of a thick layer of banana at the bottom, and fluffy white cream on top. Charlie grabbed a fork, and tried a piece.

"My god, this is amazing," he professed.

"Told you. Best place in the city."

"How come the place is so empty if the food is so good?"

"It gets a lot busier in the evenings, when all the girls are working," she explained. Charlie took another bite. "So tell me, what do you do?"

"I'm majoring in business at Southport College, and play on the soccer team. I actually only got in on a soccer scholarship."

"Soccer, huh? I guess that must have been your team you were with on Thursday."

"Yeah, we won a game that night, and wanted to celebrate."

They continued eating, drinking, and chatting. Sandra shared Charlie's taste in music, and they spent an hour talking about shows they'd been to. After exhausting that particular topic, they decided it was time to go, and Charlie, after insisting, paid for the both of them.

After walking two blocks, Sandra slowed down, and stopped in front of a large apartment building.

"What's up?" asked Charlie.

"I actually live here," she replied. "Do you want to come up for a cup of coffee or something?"

"But we just—" he started, but then it clicked. "Oh!"

"Told you I'm a bit of a slut."

They rushed up the four flights of stairs to her apartment, and as soon as the door closed behind them, clothes came flying off. Charlie stared at Sandra's bare naked, fit body with obvious appreciation. Her breasts were small, but perky, and she had amazing hips.

Sandra opened a drawer, and pulled out a condom. She tore open the packet, and rolled it on his erection, then jumped on him, and wrapped her legs around his back. Charlie groaned as she lowered herself onto his rock hard cock. They kissed hungrily. He pressed her against a wall, and started pounding her tight pussy as if his life depended on it.

"Oh god yes, faster, faster!" Sandra grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulled his head back, and licked his throat and neck.

Charlie thrust faster, and a short while later felt Sandra's body shudder and twist. The pressure on his cock increased, and with a powerful climax, he emptied his load. Sandra let go of him, and hopped off.

"Holy shit that was good," commented Charlie.

"Yeah, it was a good start," she agreed.

"Start?"

"You tired already? I thought soccer players were supposed to have a lot of stamina."

"No, of course I'm not tired." He remembered his mother's words, telling him he could take all day. Or night.

"What's the problem then?"

"The only problem is whether or not you have enough condoms," he bantered..

"Oh, don't you worry about that. A slut like me is always prepared." She rummaged in the drawer, grabbed a handful of condom packets, and showered him in a rain of prophylactics. "That enough for you, man whore?"

Charlie caught one of the wrappers, tore off the one on his cock, and unrolled the next one, already hard again. "Let's find out, you hussy."

He turned her around, and pushed her against the wall, then entered her, slamming her from behind. With every thrust, Sandra let out wails of pleasure, pressed against the hard surface. Having just orgasmed, he was able to last much longer, and soon enough Sandra came again.

They spent the rest of the afternoon having sex all over the apartment, alternating between raw, pornstar style fucking, and sweet, tender lovemaking on the bed. Hungry and sweaty from the intense workout, they ordered takeout. When it arrived, Sandra opened the door wearing just a towel wrapped around herself, and they both collapsed in a fit of giggles at the delivery guy's startled, bug eyed expression.

The sun went down, and they ended up naked, entangled in each other's limbs, in front of the TV. Charlie enjoyed the feel of her body, pressing into him, and the smell of her natural aroma.

"This might just be the best day of my life," he mused, exhausted and satisfied.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied.

The clock on the wall read 11 PM.

"I can't believe it's so late already. I wish I didn't have to go."

"Then don't. Stay here. All night."

"I can't. I gotta return the car, and I think my mother would worry."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"What?"

"Nevermind." She sighed deeply. "Will you call me again?"

"Oh, you can count on it. It's nice having my own personal sex slave."

Sandra giggled, and they kissed again. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, gathered his clothing off the floor, and dressed. They kissed again, slow and luxuriously, and then he went down the stairs. The cool night air felt good on his skin, and he replayed his favorite moments of the night in his head as he walked back to the Honey Pot's parking lot. He already missed her.

The lights of the Honey Pot were now on, illuminating the parking lot in a bright, neon glare. One of the dancers, the redhead he had seen on Thursday, stood at the back entrance, smoking a cigarette. Charlie was about to unlock the door to the family car, when he heard the woman's angry shouts.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Get away from Starlight's car, you creep."

"What?" He was still too distracted by thoughts of Sandra to properly parse what she was yelling.

"You heard me. Just because you shitheads throw a lot of money at her every night doesn't mean you own her."

"This is my car," he said, held up his keys, and jiggled them in his raised hand, and then unlocked the door.

"Oh," the woman conceded. "My bad. I just thought you were one of those pervs that likes to stalk us. Sorry."

"Whatever." He shook his head, and got in the car.

Charlie was already halfway back home, when the woman's words struck him like lightning. She had definitely said Starlight's car. He considered what the odds were of two women, looking nearly identical, to be driving the same car. Extremely low, according to his estimates.

He turned the car around, and started driving to Jameson's Grill, which was closer. Stella wouldn't be home yet, and if she wasn't the same person as Starlight, she'd be there. The entire drive his mind raced, and a knot formed in his stomach.

"Hello, and welcome to Jameson's Grill, do you have a reservation?" The pretty head waitress asked Charlie as he entered the building.

"Could I get into the kitchen? I need to talk to my mother. Stella."

She gave him a blank stare, as if she didn't recognize the name.

"Stella. Stella Dawson," he said again.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is."

"What about Babs, then?"

She seemed surprised he knew the name of the owner, but replied, "Uh sure, she's here. Please wait."

Charlie watched her hurry off, and the knot in his stomach grew tighter. The head waitress returned, trailed by Babs.