The Hottest Babe Pt. 16

Meet Anita Olsen. The most popular girl in high school, she ruled as president of The Hot Babes Club - and as a bully who tormented Freddie Simpson for being a nerd. Freddie grew up to be a tech billionaire who invented a system of mind control, and life got very different for The Hottest Babe.

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"She's so anxious that I'm getting worried," Anita said to Freddie.

That morning Frida spent three hours pacing up and down the hallway in their hotel. She couldn't eat breakfast. Anita kept trying to coax Frida back to the suite to sit down and try to calm herself.

"Just a few more minutes," Frida said as the hours went by.

"Tell her I want to talk with her," Freddie said.

Anita stepped out in the hall, found Frida, and called out "Freddie wants to talk to you!" Frida took the phone and went back into the suite.

"I hear things are going well, and the show hasn't even opened," Freddie said.

"It seems that way," Frida said.

They talked for a few moments, then Freddie said, "I am so proud of you. When I asked you to photograph Anita, I felt sure you could create wonderful art. You have exceeded all my hopes. Thank you for everything. I would take it as a personal favor if you would try to relax between now and the opening. It's just a few hours from now. You don't want to be a bundle of nerves when the public arrives. Will you do that for me?"

"Of course, Freddie. I'll stop fretting." Frida said.

And she did. Anita watched in wonder as Frida sat back in the chair and visibly relaxed. It was strange that all Anita's urging had failed to get Frida to calm down, but a few words from Freddie did the job. It seemed suspicious.

Did Freddie do anything to Frida like he did to me? Anita asked herself. She'd never wondered before. Had she missed something? Had there been a sign that Frida was as much Freddie's slave as Anita? Had Freddie used mind control to get Frida to exceed old artistic limitations? For a long time, Anita had realized that Freddie forced her to be a better person. She was nothing like the woman she'd been before Freddie kidnapped her and began shaping her mind to his will. She wondered what he'd say if she asked him about Frida.

She wondered if she could even ask that question. It might be something Freddie had ordered her not to do. She might never know if she never tried. She realized she didn't actually care if Frida was also Freddie's slave. Being his slave was a good thing.

For whatever reason, Frida was finally relaxing, and Anita was relieved. They enjoyed a calm conversation on topics that had nothing to do with the upcoming opening of Aphrodite. Frida was actually relaxed by the time they needed to get ready to leave for the gallery.

Their outfits were dazzling. Frida wore a black suit with slacks. It featured tiny silver threads that sparkled in the light. Anita wore a slinky black dress with enough cleavage to be flattering, but not to call excess attention to herself. The short skirt displayed her shapely legs nicely. The car sent by the gallery arrived at their hotel, so the two women started the short trip to the event they hoped would change Frida's life.

They were greeted by Mari, who wore a bright red dress with matching eye makeup that looked bold and sexy. Mari knew that almost everyone who showed up at the opening would be wearing black and white. It was like an unwritten dress code for the art crowd. It was well known that wearing bright colors while standing in a sea of black and white always focused attention in a flattering way. Mari had enjoyed having sex with Frida and Anita, and she wanted to repeat the experience. She hoped the bright red dress would help when she invited the pair to go out for cocktails after the opening.

The gallery owner noticed that people were gathering outside more than half an hour before the doors were to open. "Well, that is odd," she said. "I can't remember that happening before." She verified that the caterers were ready to serve the wine and hors d'oeuvres, then she unlocked the doors early and greeted the first members of the crowd.

It wasn't the usual crowd. This gallery's openings usually brought out young people, artists and would-be art patrons looking to mingle and make connections. The people flooding into the gallery tonight had plenty of connections already. They were older. Richer. More famous. Anita spotted a woman who'd just won a Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical. There was a man who ran his family's $300 million charitable foundation that supported emerging artists. A director of blockbuster science fiction movies was there with one of his famous actresses. There was an astronaut. An astronaut! That was unexpected.

How did this happen? the gallery owner asked herself. How did all these movers and shakers decide to come out tonight? She'd made an extra effort to publicize the opening, but these were people who didn't come to an opening because they saw an announcement in an art column. It was word of mouth. A director heard about it from a producer. He told a studio executive. She told a magazine editor. He told a photographer, who told several models, who told their rich boyfriends, who told their bankers, and on and on and on.

This particular grapevine just happened to penetrate deep into the heart of New York's most powerful citizens. One thing they all had in common with average New Yorkers was a desire to see and be seen by important people. They had a feeling Aphrodite would bring out that kind of crowd, and they were right.

As in San Francisco, everyone wanted to say something flattering to Frida. This time they wanted to make similar comments to Anita. She was surprised and flattered to be treated as an artist herself. That was not anticipated. One thing she had expected was to enjoy standing in a crowd of people admiring her nude image. As in San Francisco, Anita watched as people looked at the pictures, looked at her, looked at the pictures again, and realized that the woman in the slinky black dress was the same as the nude model they were admiring. It was a particularly enjoyable kind of stimulation for Anita's inner exhibitionist.

"You are Frida, no? These are marvelous photographs. I wish you would photograph me like this," a tall woman said.

Frida and Anita realized that they were speaking to a supermodel. Greta Andress was the covergirl du jour, dominating the world of fashion modeling. She was breathtakingly beautiful, from her long, wavy blond hair to her dainty feminine feet. She wore a bold designer dress made just for her by the hot upcoming designer du jour. Greta had a penetrating gaze that seemed to pin Frida and Anita in place. "I haven't seen you before," she said to Frida. "Do you do fashion photography?"

"Sometimes," Frida said. "But not in New York. I work mainly in California."

"Most of the photographers I know work in both places. There's no reason you can't do both," Greta said. "I'd like you to photograph me. Can you do that? I know a magazine editor you'd love to meet. He's the best of the best. He'll introduce you to everybody in the New York fashion business."

My life is going to change, Frida thought to herself. This is what it feels like.

"You are Aphrodite, no? Anita?" Greta asked.

"It's nice to meet you, Greta. I've seen you in my favorite magazines."

"You are as kind as you are beautiful," Greta said. Anita recognized the look in Greta's eyes as that of someone who wanted to take her to bed. She usually saw that look in the eyes of men, but Greta looked as hungry as any man.

"This is Mari," Frida said. "She curated this show." Mari thought that was an unusually generous description. All Mari did was read a review of Frida's show in San Francisco, then call it to the attention of the gallery owner. Most of the actual curation happened in California. She realized, correctly, that Frida was doing something nice for Mari in front of the most famous person at tonight's opening.

The four women chatted for several minutes. Greta saw that Mari seemed attracted to Frida. Maybe that would make it easier for Greta to hook up with Anita. Perhaps she could convince all three to come back to her apartment later. That would be fun.

"Are you busy after the opening?" Greta asked. "You could come with me to a club I like, no?"

Frida and Mari were so surprised by the invitation that they were too shocked to speak. "I think that would be very nice," Anita said. "We could do that, couldn't we?" she asked Frida and Mari. Both women nodded, still a bit shocked at the idea that they'd just been invited to party with one of the biggest celebrities in the city.

Greta looked around and saw a line of people waiting to meet Frida and Anita. "I am monopolizing your time," she said. "I'll go talk with some of my friends while you meet your newest admirers. I'll be here. Don't leave without me."

And it was settled. Frida, Anita and Mari greeted one person after another. As expected, some of them wanted to commission a work from Frida. Business cards were exchanged. Several men who were both rich, handsome, and at least a little bit famous, made it clear they'd be happy to entertain the ladies afterward. They were very disappointed to learn the women had already made plans. Maybe next time.

Greta worked the room, getting reacquainted with all kinds of celebrities she'd met in the past. The photographs are beautiful, no? You are buying prints? Which ones? Do you think this would look right in my foyer? Yada yada yada.

Frida and Mari were getting tired by the time the last visitors filed out of the gallery. Anita wasn't tired at all. It was partly because she'd worked so hard on the diet and exercise regimen Freddie forced her to follow. But it was also because it was so exciting to be admired by so many people who knew what she looked like naked. She loved the looks in the eyes of the men and women who found it easy to lust after her. No one said or did anything distasteful, but their admiration was impossible to miss.

"I shall get my driver, no?" Greta asked when it was time to go.

She took them to a club with a line that wrapped halfway around the block. She walked to the front of the line and walked right in, trailing Frida, Anita and Mari behind her. A man smiled and greeted her, then led the women upstairs to a room that looked down at the dance floor visible beyond the railing. The room thumped with the beats of a famous DJ who'd traveled from Berlin.

A pitcher of cocktails appeared on the table. "Vodka martinis," Greta said. "Would you like something else?"

"Martinis are my favorite," Frida and Anita said simultaneously. That made everyone laugh.

"I like martinis too," Mari said.

They sipped their drinks and talked as one person after another came to say hello to Greta. Photo editors. Designers. Photographers. Other models. Did this club cater exclusively to people in the fashion industry? They all seemed to be fans of Greta, who addressed them like a queen greeting her loyal subjects.

Someone delivered a tray of appetizers. Greta ate one piece of shrimp without cocktail sauce. As a top model, she didn't eat much. On this night she preferred to consume her calories in the form of martinis. Frida, who'd gone without food the whole day, was finally relaxed enough to eat, so the appetizers arrived just in time to keep her from fainting from the combined effects of hunger, booze and excitement.

Since all the women were drinking on empty stomachs, they felt tipsy immediately. Greta had a particularly happy smile. Things were going so well. She felt sure she'd have sex with Anita. I want to kiss those lips, she thought to herself. I want to suck those nipples. I want to lick that pussy. She'd seen Anita naked in Frida's photographs; she wanted to see her naked in bed.

Anita felt a pleasant buzz when she noticed Mari was stroking the inside of Frida's thigh. The two women looked longingly at each other, then started kissing each other passionately. Greta saw what was happening, looked over at Anita, and smiled.

"We should go to my apartment, no?" she said.

Greta lived in a building with a doorman who guided them to the elevators. Greta gave him a tip, and he said, "Be sure to let me know if I can be of service, Ms. Andress."

"Thank you, Carl. I will," Greta said.

Greta lived in an apartment that must have cost a fortune. It was just west of Central Park, with a great view of the greenery and the skyline beyond. It was very large for Manhattan, with big rooms full of big furniture and big works of art on the walls. Anita lived in a beautiful mansion in California, and she saw that New York style was distinctly different. It was a nice contrast with what she was used to.

Greta and Anita noticed at the same time that Frida and Mari were embracing, and kissing each other passionately. Greta walked over to Anita and smiled. "Young love. Beautiful," she said.

"I'm glad," Anita said. "Frida has had a very long and stressful day."

"You've had a special day as well," Greta said. "You are the city's newest star, no? Everyone who matters is going to make their little pilgrimage to the gallery so they can worship beautiful Aphrodite. Welcome to Mount Olympus, goddess. We mere mortals wish only to worship you."

Anita knew what Greta meant when she said "worship." She reached out for Anita, pulled her into an embrace, and gave her a delicate kiss. A slightly more passionate kiss followed, then another, and another, and it wasn't long before the beautiful model was exploring the inside of Anita's mouth. Sex with women hadn't been a big part of Anita's life before Freddie began reworking everything about her. Frida had unleashed a new kind of passion, and Anita was thrilled as the feeling of arousal overwhelmed her.

"Come with me," Greta said, taking Anita's hand and leading her to the bedroom.

Greta unzipped Anita's dress, unhooked her bra, and ran her warm hand over Anita's bare back. She pushed one strap off her shoulder, then did the same with the other strap. Anita's dress began slipping down, exposing her breasts to Greta's eyes, hands, and lips. Greta lowered the dress and Anita's panties to the floor. Soon she was completely naked.

"You look even better than your pictures," Greta said.

When Greta removed her own dress, Anita was surprised to discover she wasn't wearing either a bra or panties. Greta didn't like wearing underwear that might cause a line that was visible through her clothes. Like most top models, Greta's breasts were small enough that bras weren't necessary except on very cold days.

She was commanding, lowering Anita to the bed as her hands roamed over her body. Greta didn't get many opportunities to touch breasts as large and luscious as Anita's, so she lavished kisses on her warm flesh and sucked the nipples between her lips. She moved so forcefully it reminded Anita of being with a man. A very beautiful man with a long lean body and flowing blond hair.

Greta kissed her way down Anita's belly, admiring the well-defined abs that did so much to make it easy to imagine she was an Olympian goddess. But Greta's real target was between Anita's legs, so she reached down to spread those limbs and put herself in the middle.

It was soon obvious that Greta was a master at the art of eating pussy. She began by kissing the tender skin of Anita's inner thighs, proceeding at a glacial pace as she went closer and closer to those swollen lips. Anita moaned in anticipation of feeling Greta's mouth against her most intimate flesh. Her pussy was hot, wet, and ready for attention, but Greta was slow to give it.

Instead, Greta's hands massaged Anita's inner thighs. Her tongue lapped closer and closer. Anita didn't know how to get Greta to give her what she wanted. When this happened with Freddie, and he was teasing her so much, there was one thing that usually made him just make it happen.

"Please," Anita said.

"Ah. You are so sweet," Greta said. She paused for another second, then began kissing around and around Anita's labia. It was an improvement, but it wasn't enough. Anita wanted to feel Greta's tongue feasting on the tender wet folds between her inner lips.

She jumped when it finally happened. Anita made a little yipping sound that charmed Greta, who rewarded her by licking her pussy from the top to the bottom, refraining only from touching Anita's delicate little clit. Greta pushed her tongue as far inside Anita's pussy as she could reach, then took two fingers and went even deeper. As a woman, Greta knew exactly how to give pleasure to Anita, who began squirming around on the mattress as the sensations grew more and more intense.

Finally, Greta sucked the clit between her lips and licked it over and over. Anita climaxed explosively. Greta was good at this. Very good. She tossed her head from side to side as the orgasm continued to overwhelm her. She realized that Greta was caressing her breasts at the same time she played with her pussy. It felt so good. All of it.

Anita gradually relaxed, and Greta laid down next to her. "Thank you," Anita said. "This has been a wonderful day for me."

"For me as well," Greta said.

Anita looked down and admired Greta's beautiful face and body. It was time to give back the pleasure she'd just received. She held Greta's head between her two hands and gave her a deep, soulful kiss. It seemed that Greta melted into Anita's arms. The supermodel switched from dominant to submissive in a heartbeat. That aroused Anita even more.

Greta's small breasts were topped by large erect nipples that seemed to be unusually sensitive. She sucked in a breath when Anita began kissing and sucking those beautiful, perfect breasts. She moaned when Anita reached down and began massaging her warm, wet pussy. Greta said something in a foreign language Anita did not recognize. She didn't know what the words meant, but the tone made it clear what Greta wanted.

Anita initially thought she'd return the favor and eat Greta's pussy. Already, it had an intoxicating fragrance that made Anita salivate. She began licking, sucking and nibbling at the tender flesh between Greta's legs. Anita slid two fingers inside her pussy, watching as that made her start to writhe around on the bed.

It was going so well Anita put a third finger inside and started rubbing the rough bump of Greta's G-spot. That seemed to make Greta go wild, groaning loudly and tossing her head from side to side. She began speaking in a foreign language again. It wasn't German. Could it be Swiss? Norwegian? Greta's blond hair, blue-eyed Nordic appearance could have come from any number of countries.

Anita added a fourth finger, and Greta reacted even more forcefully. She called out in ecstasy. It made Anita feel powerful. She had Greta under her complete control. She decided to add her thumb, folding her hand into a shape she might be able to push all the way inside.

"Min Gud!" Greta said. That sounded like "My God!" Anita smiled. If she was forcing Greta to call out to her creator, that seemed like a good thing. She twisted her hand around and around, pushing in further each time. Greta's legs began shaking. Anita's entire hand slipped inside, and she made a small fist.

Now Greta was squirming around on the mattress wildly. Anita gently twisted her fist around and around, rubbing her knuckles against the G-spot. She lowered her lips to Greta's pussy and began licking her clit. That added bit of stimulation made Greta call out loudly. Anita imagined that Frida and Mari must have heard that from the next room. Maybe they'd come into the bedroom to watch what was happening.

Anita worked doggedly, stimulating Greta's clit while moving her fist gently inside her. It went on and on, with Greta getting louder and louder as her climax approached.