Pornstar Ch 02 1

Pornstar 2: Nancy

Nancy is... well, Nancy is... well, hot. Nancy is well hot. But Nancy is more than hot. Nancy is so cool with her quiet courtesy and her beautiful clothes. Nancy never does mocking, never does the ganging up thing with the rest of the bibbie crowd, never has to build herself up by putting other people down. Nancy is courteous to everyone, doesn't treat anyone like dirt. She's tall - at least as tall as me, even if she wore flat shoes - and she probably even weighs a touch more than me, but that isn't to say she's even an ounce overweight anywhere, just that she curves. And she has eyes, and cheeks, and lips, and my head just wouldn't let go of that shot - that imagined vision - of that golden face orgasming in the golden light of dawn. I met Nancy just outside the school gate, the next morning, just by chance, if hanging around for half an hour can be called chance... if staying up half the night trying to work out what to say and find the nerve to say it can be called chance.

"Errr... excuse me..."

"Hey, Kyle?"

"Err.. I have to ask you this. It's not like ... I mean, I know what your answer will be, but like, I mean, it's..."

"OK, Kyle, what's up?"

She's looking at me sort of quizically with the sun behind making golden haloes in that golden blond hair that Lill says is dyed. I can feel my face getting redder.

"You know the crone role?"

"Mmm?"

"We... I... I want you to do it but..."

"You want me to do it?"

"Yes, but..."

"You want to shoot that last scene, the one you talked about?"

Huge relief, she'd said it, I didn't have to.

"Yes."

"Are you playing the brother?"

"No. No, I'm doing the camera..."

"So who is doing it?"

"Paul."

"Paul!"

She turned away, walking back the way she'd come about a dozen paces, and then came back. The sun was right behind her, I couldn't read her expression.

"Do I have to be naked?"

"Well, sort of no... I mean, there's those robey things that are getting peeled away, like so most of the time you aren't really - like until the last bit and then the camera can only see you down to about here..." - I draw a line across the bottom of my ribcage with my hand... "...I mean, unless you're not cool with that in which case it could be sort of..."

"No, that's kind of OK, I guess. I mean he won't actually be on top of me when you get round to there, will he?"

"No, but..."

Suddenly her head jerked up, and she sort of whisper-shouted.

"Do I have to have SEX?"

I nodded, red as a brick wall.

"With Paul?"

I nodded.

"No. No way."

She turned away again... and came back.

"Could it be someone else in the close up?"

"You mean not Paul?"

"I mean not me!"

I thought about it.

"No, because... it's all just one long take... I mean like it's not like gross or gynaecological or anything like that, it just like if you're not really doing it it's going to show..."

"I don't have to kiss him?"

"No."

"Just sex?"

"Just sex."

She turned, turned back, walked away a little, turned back, turned away, came slowly back.

"If I won't do it, I don't get the part?"

I shook my head, sadly.

"If you won't do it, we don't shoot the scene. I mean..." I looked at her. I looked around. There were other people going by. I looked at her. I held my hands out. "I mean, I see you in that scene. I see your face. Nobody else is... nobody else is - golden - enough... I mean - I mean if we're going to make this big magic moment, the face has to be iconic, like completely... like holy, do you see what I mean? And no-one else has got that!"

"Wow, is that how you see me?" she asked. "Like you really want me to do this?"

"Please."

"But you want Paul to screw me, not you? Like, with you watching?"

"No, but..."

"You want to screw me..."

"It isn't like that..."

"But you do..."

and I started to cry. Fuck! Why? Why then? Why can I just never keep cool when it matters?

"Look," I said, "I'm sorry. I apologise. I shouldn't ever have asked you..."

I ran away.

-----

Days that start bad get worse.

About half past ten I was going down a corridor when an elemental force grabbed me, spun me round, and bounced me off a wall. When I came to later in casualty I had two broken ribs as well as concussion. My face was pretty sore too, and my lips were split and swollen which didn't make talking too easy.

After a while the Deputy Principal from the school came in and asked me what had happened, but I told her I couldn't remember. It was true enough. She asked me if I could think of any reason why anyone would attack me, and I said I couldn't. That was, like, less true, but I didn't want to bring it up.

I mean, like, we call him the cow pie man behind his back, but it isn't really to make fun of him. It's really to pretend to ourselves we're not intimidated by him. Dan McCoy is like... well, he's big. He's not just big, he's just good at everything. He's stroke in the rowing team. He's captain of the football team. He wins all the interschool swimming stuff. And he was Head Boy. And his father is like the biggest farmer for miles around and also big in a lot of the business in the town and stuff.

Dan's not just a bag of muscles, he's also good looking, and has girls chasing after him. He had Nancy chasing after him. He had Nancy going out with him. He (at least according to the talk) had Nancy.

I didn't know that the cow pie man had hit me, because I couldn't actually remember. And I didn't want to mix it with the cow pie man because if he wanted to make life comprehensively miserable for me in that school in that town he could. But the main reason I didn't want to accuse Dan - the main reason I didn't even want to think it was Dan - was I didn't want to think about Nancy telling him what I'd said...

That was a bad day.

The next day wasn't too good either. I sat around the house feeling too sore and miserable to do very much, although I did do a bit of work on the story boards.

My mom went out to work about 3 o'clock for the late shift. She'd been kind of cool and only marginally sympathetic all morning. She didn't believe that I didn't know why I'd got beat up, and didn't guess that there was anything else wrong bar being sore and sorry for myself. Which I guess was pretty much right.

About four o'clock the doorbell rang, and I hollered "come in," thinking it would be Paul.

A voice called "Kyle? Where are you?" and I went out into the living room and there was Nancy looking like summer sunshine.

"Hi."

"Hey, what a mess!"

She walked up to me and cupped my bruised cheek in one hand. I kept quite still, just looking at her.

"I just wanted you to know it wasn't me who told him."

Some sort of stiffness went out of me so I sort of sagged, and she put her other hand on my shoulder to steady me.

"Hey!" she said again, "Hey, you were really afraid it was me!"

I nodded. I started crying again, hating myself for crying in front of her, hating myself for my lack of control, unable to stop.

"Look," I said, "can I make you a coffee?"

"Hey!" she said, not letting go. I lifted my head and looked at her, desperately trying to control my tears.

"Hey," she said, "come here."

She pulled me into her, pulled my face into the curve of her shoulder, into the rough clean linen of her jacket shoulder, into her smell of cleanness, of fresh laundry and clean hair and unperfumed soap and, faintly but distinctly, of woman; pulled my body against the curves of hers. She rocked me, gently, like a baby, and I was at the same time humiliated and hugely comforted and also turned on. After a little while she moved her hands, and I straightened up and moved gently away.

"Sorry, Nancy," I said, "sore ribs. Coffee?"

I went over to the counter and made her coffee and we sat looking out on the lawn and drinking it. She asked about the beating and I told her I didn't remember anything at all about it. She asked about the broken ribs and I told her I didn't know how I'd got them.

"Was it Dan?" I asked.

"Yes, it was." She paused. "Did he kick you? Like, when you were down?"

"I honestly don't know. I don't remember. But," I looked at her, over the rim of the coffee mug, "I wouldn't have thought it was his style."

"No," she said, kind of sadly, "neither would I. I'm not going out with him any more. I've already told him."

"Because of me?"

"Well, sort of. Partly." She looked down, blushing. "Mostly because he thought he owned me, and no-one is ever going to own me. No-one is going to decide for me what I can do and what I can't do, like no-one." She looked up at me again, and reached the back of a finger over to stroke my bruised cheek. "But even if it weren't for that I'd tell him now I've seen you. I don't like bullies."

"Hey, Nancy, I'm, like, I'm not exactly Mr America. I'm kind of like wet string. He probably didn't mean to..."

"It's OK, Kyle, It doesn't make any difference. It's over."

We drank coffee, and watched blackbirds on the lawn. After a while she asked what I'd been doing and I said about the storyboards and she said could she see and I went and got them. She flipped through, slowly, looking carefully at this one or that, until she came to the page where I'd worked out the dawn shot. She looked at it for a long time.

"Wow." She turned on to the final head and shoulders shot. "Wow. Like, who else has seen these?"

"Well, no-one yet... Did... did he say you couldn't do it?"

She laughed, flushing slightly.

"He didn't know about this bit. He just said I couldn't act in a film at all... Hey Kyle, I've got to understand this..."

"Uh-huh?"

"You want me to do this?"

I nodded. "Yes, very much. I said so."

"You want somebody else to screw me?"

"No, it isn't like that..."

"Kyle!" She didn't exactly raise her voice, but it was sharp, intent. "Do you want to screw me?"

"Look, of course I do. Hey, you don't need to say, I know I've got no chance. But even nerds have dreams, you know."

"Do you want to screw me personally, or just anyone?" Her voice wasn't challenging any more, but it was intent. Something mattered. It mattered what I said. I met her eyes, and she held mine.

"I told you," I said. "You are the golden one. No-one - no-one else will do."

"But you want me to do this, on camera, with someone else, while you film it?"

I nodded.

"Look," she said, "put it differently. We're doing this scene. Someone's screwing me. Someone's filming it. Which one is you? You have the choice, screw me or film me. Which would you do?"

I looked at her. I looked at my hands. I looked at her.

"Which would you do?"

It was as if the sun of possibility had moved out from behind cloud for a moment... and would disappear again in another. I couldn't lie in this situation, it was too important. The truth would drive her away.

"I can't do both, Nancy. I'd have to film it..."

She face looked exactly as if I'd hit her. I put my hand out...

"Don't," she said. "Don't touch me."

She put her coffee mug down carefully as if she'd rather have hurled it at me, and walked out, across the room, through the front door. I sat on my stool and wept again, for the third time in two days.

-----

The guys, Lill and Paul, came round later. We talked a bit. Well, we didn't talk much. I didn't tell them about Nancy coming round. They'd sort of worked out I'd asked her. I said she'd said no, and we left it at that. They didn't stay long. I was too sore and too miserable to be much company. Paul asked me if I wanted him to pick me up to go to the meeting in the barn the next day, and I said I didn't know whether I was up for it. I'd ring him. They left.

I just, like, kind of sat. I felt more emotionally than physically beaten up, actually. The house grew dark. I sat.

-----

The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Kyle?"

I didn't recognise the voice. It was female, but low and husky and uncertain...

"Yeah?"

"It's Nancy." I realised she was crying.

"Hey, are you OK..?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just, like, sitting here in the dark."

"Is there anyone with you?"

"No, I'm just..."

"Can I come over?"

"Hey! Hey please!"

Ten minutes after that she cycled across the front lawn and just sort of crashed into my arms; ten minutes after that we were both sort of lying in a huddle on the couch in the dark crying; ten minutes after that we were kissing, and ten minutes after that my hands were inside her blouse.

At last she disentangled herself gently and sat up.

"Hey, hey, too fast, too fast, I need a break..."

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Not you, idiot, me. I'm going to fast..."

"Can I make you coffee?"

She laughed.

"I bet you say that to all the girls..."

We wandered across to the counter and made coffee, and then, because we discovered we'd neither of us eaten, sandwiches. We took them into my room. We sat on the bed cause my room is like, small, and there's nowhere else. She looked through the story board again. We drank coffee. We ate sandwiches. She looked at the pictures. I looked at her.

She looked at me, her pupils big in the dim light.

"When will your mother be home?"

"About eleven, usually. Might be later."

"What's the time?"

I looked at my bedside clock.

"Twenty past nine."

"OK."

She stood up and looked out the window. I stood behind her. She seemed to shiver, and I put a hand on her shoulder. She turned into me, holding me to her, and kissed me carefully on the unbruised side of my face. She took me by the hand. I sat down on the bed again and tried to pull her down too.

"Hey, hey, go easy... I don't want to get my clothes all crushed."

I let go of her. She turned away, looking at my bookshelves... and then turned the light off. In the sudden gloom I could hear movements. I couldn't make out what she was doing. Then suddenly she pushed me over and lay beside me, pulling my sweatshirt out of my jeans. Her lips were urgent, hungry. My hands slid over her back, finding her naked to the waist. After a few minutes she broke away, lying back, panting. She pushed my head down onto her breats, surprisingly small out of her bra, soft and silken and tender. I kissed them. "Hey, that's good," she said, "that's good," and then a bit later, "hey, use your teeth - God yes that's good." I felt her nipples erecting under my lips and teeth, growing, firming, roughening, corrugating. Experimentally I bit harder, expecting protest, but got only hungry wimpers.

Her hands ran through my hair. I slipped a hand down and explored under the waisband of her jeans. She eased over, arching her back a little to give me more room. I tried to identify what I was feeling, by comparison to the porn I'd seen. I was amazed, transfixed by the softness of the hair, the tenderness of the flesh.

"Hey!" she said, "Oh, hey, just do that, that's so good..."

I moved my head up and kissed her on the lips some more. I pulled my hand out of her jeans and went to undo the button. A hand clamped om my wrist.

"What's the time now?"

"Ten to ten."

"How long does it take?"

"What?"

"To go all the way..."

"I don't know, I've never done it before..."

"Do you want to?"

"Like, kind of a lot. Are we going to?"

She turned over, looking into my face in the dark.

"It won't hurt too much, will it? I mean your ribs?"

"I'll risk it..."

She chuckled.

"Good."

She rolled onto her side and pulled me down on her breasts again. I took a nipple into my mouth and worried it.

"Hey, that's good. Hey, that's good... Hey..." Her voice changed and I looked up.

"Hey, you have got rubbers..."

"No."

"No... ok... hey, where did we leave my bike?"

"It's on the path just outside the door, I think..."

She got up, scrambling over me.

"Where's the light?"

I got up and switched the light on. She was standing, golden and glowing, hair all anyhow, eyes wide, breathing through her mouth. She looked at me. I handed her her bra. She looked at me, looked at the bra, looked at me.

"Nancy," I said, gently...

She shook her head.

"No... no. No, I don't care..." She looked at me. "Go and hide my bike." I looked at her, wide eyed. She pushed me out the door. "Go!"

I ran out and took her bike round the back to the shed where we keep the lawnmower. When I got back she was in the bed. There were no sign of her clothes anywhere.

"OK?"

I nodded.

"Get your clothes off, then, and get in!"

"We're going all the way?"

"Don't talk, do it!"

We went all the way. And like... I mean, no, of course it wasn't truly great sex, but in my memory at least it is one of the most precious things. I burrowed in under the covers, finding her breast again with my mouth, her cunt again with my hand. I kissed my way down her body, feeling her shudder under me as I nibbled the ridge of her hip, down into her soft curling cunt hair. The smell was delicious. I sniffed down into her groin, experimentally kissing the wet, soft flesh, tasting for the first time the sweet-salty musky woman juice, feeling for the first time a pelvis start to move under me. I kissed again, and licked, and heard her whimper, and felt her hands twist in my hair, and licked again.

"Oh God! Oh God! Kyle, please... just do it. Just..."

"What, Nancy?"

"Just fuck me..." she pulled me up her body, and kissed me, forced one of her legs under me, pulled me central onto her body. "Fuck me, Kyle, before I run out of courage."

I fumbled, moving clumsily, trying to find the entrance to her body with my blind cock. Impatiently she pushed a hand into our groins and guided me home. I pushed, feeling her heat, feeling her tenderness... Feeling a stretchy resistance.

"Is that it?" I whispered. "Am I in?"

She laughed, throatily. "Don't think so... like I think that's my hymen. I think you're supposed to go right in. Like a lot deeper. Like you got to break it."

"With my cock?"

"Think so..." Nancy tilted her cunt up, opening her legs wider and putting her hands on my arse. "Just push."

"Sure?" I asked.

She kissed me, and nodded, and I pushed, and then suddenly it went and she sort of gasped and the feeling was different, deep and tight and textured and slick and hot.

"Oh, God, Kyle. Like I'm so full... I didn't know I could be this full..."

I pushed again, and slid in further. Her breathing went ragged, and calmed again. I pushed again... and I was sheathed in her, deep in her, no further to go.

She whimpered again. "Fuck me?"

I pulled out gently, and started to push again.

"Kyle... slowly..."

"Is it hurting?"

"Uh huh... a bit... do it."

I pushed in once more as far as I could, and held her. I rolled us a bit so I was sort of lying half on her half beside her but with my cock still right up her to the hilt, and we kissed and hugged.

My mother came home while we were still lying like that, and I gently pulled the covers up so Nancy was pretty much hidden. Mom tapped on my door and put her head round to say was I OK and did I need anything, which caused a storm of silent hysteria under the covers. But later in the night Nancy showed me how to touch her so she came which was just brilliant.