I met Amanda's mother, Valerie at a trade show. I was a 'spokesmodel' for some type of equipment which I had no clue about. I was dressed to attract the mostly male attendees, flirt a bit then pass them on to a salesperson to get their information so they could annoy them until they bought something. My skirt was short, showing off my toned legs which looked even better in the five-inch pumps I wore. My top gave off more than a hint of cleavage which didn't need much help since I'm fairly busty. I didn't care to show off this much, but they paid me extra and I needed the money.
Valerie was an 'Alpha' type businesswoman who stopped by mainly to check me out, I was later to learn. She was dressed professionally: business suit, hose, and heels. She asked me all sorts of questions which I tried dancing around since the salesman wasn't around. She smiled throughout it all then when I was almost ready to tell her I didn't know much about this stuff, she grabbed one of the free pens on the table. Writing down her cell number on two of them, she handed those back to me telling me to have the guy who should have been there call her to answer her questions. The other she said to keep and call her, and we'd do coffee. She then handed the third to me and asked politely if I had an agent and to write their number down on her card. She was going to do a promo in the next month or so and I might be perfect for it.
I put my agent's number on the card along with my name. I handed it back as Valerie smiled, thanking me for my time along with a compliment for knowing as much as I did about the equipment. She said most of the girls here doing the same thing were clueless. Then she walked away swishing her tight little ass down the aisle. I was impressed.
About a month later I got a call from my agent telling me I had an audition. I model part-time while working on a computer app that I hope will make me rich. Modeling pays the bills. I went, guess who was there? Yes, Valerie. I did the audition hoping for the position. I thought I did a good job, smiling and saying my lines without any problems. I got the usual, 'Thank you, miss. We'll be in touch' spiel.
On my way out, Valerie pulled me aside. She told me I wouldn't get it; my boobs were too big. They wanted the target audience to focus on the product, not me. She did offer to buy me lunch and that she had a position she hoped I might be interested in. I accepted her invitation. I liked her style, straight up with a hint of naughty.
It happened to be a Friday; lunch ended up being the weekend at her place. I accepted numerous positions during that weekend much to our mutual satisfaction. When I was with her that weekend, I learned quite a bit about her life. What I thought was a weekend of lust and debauchery turned into a respectful relationship between us. Oh yes, we still get together on some weekends and during the week, but it's become more of a partnership. She's helping with the business end of my app and I'm her confidante and sounding board for things she doesn't know as much about 'on the street'.
About two months into our relationship Val mentioned she'd like me to meet her daughter, Amanda. She hadn't talked too much about her during that time. I'd seen pictures of her throughout the house. She looked nice, college grad, a teaching certificate, along with a master's degree. Val said that Amanda's opinion of her girlfriends carried a lot of weight. She'd told Amanda a bit about me and now she wanted to meet me.
In my mind, I was picturing a spoiled brat judging her mother's lovers. If they didn't meet her expectations Val would dump them. I was to discover it couldn't have been further from the truth when I was invited to dinner one Wednesday night at Val's.
I arrived a bit early, dressed fairly conservatively for me, but casual. Val met me at the door dressed in an apron and a yellow-flowered sundress. She kissed me hello before taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. There, I found Amanda in an apron, mid-length skirt, barefoot, and a casual crème colored blouse which I figured was her style for school. She was happily stirring away whatever dinner was. It smelled good. She turned and we both were momentarily stunned. Me, by how sweet she looked. I could only guess it was my youth since I was only five years older.
She was the quintessential girl-next-door. Her red hair tied back in a ponytail reached below her shoulders. Her face seemed to glow as she walked towards us wearing a huge smile. Her blue eyes contrasted the multitude of freckles that adorned her face. She was my height around five foot five. I wanted her.
She did a quick double-take. I could tell she wasn't looking at my eyes. I smiled as I reached out to shake her hand.
Avoiding my hand, she slipped past to hug me. I smiled holding her against me looking back at Val who was grinning. I could feel a faint heartbeat which during the few seconds we embraced seemed to beat faster.
She released me. "I'm so glad to finally meet you, Renee. Mom has told me quite a bit about you."
Her voice was sweet and melodic. I smiled, looking back at Val. "I hope it was all good."
She giggled, "It was, silly. You model and code I hear. Working on an app? That's impressive."
I blushed. "Thanks, your mom is helping me get the business part headed in the right direction. She's been a big help. You teach I hear. Fifth grade! I wouldn't have the patience with all those rug rats running around."
She grinned. "They are pretty good; it's the parents that can be a pain. Oh, dinner! Excuse me, I need to stir. Can I get you something to drink?"
She hurried off to the stove as Val walked up behind me to kiss my neck. I was thinking about how polite she was not like the usual twenty-five-year-olds I've met recently.
"I think she likes you," she whispered.
"She's adorable, Val," I whispered back.
"Amanda, I brought a bottle of red and white wine. I didn't know what was cooking so, I decided to cover my bases."
She turned back. "Oh, I'm making cioppino. Mom said you liked seafood."
I had to hold back a laugh, as did Val.
"Oh, I do. Sushi and sashimi are a favorite of mine. I especially love fish tacos."
Val shook her head in disbelief.
"That's great, I hope you'll like my cioppino then."
"I'm sure I will."
Val smacked me playfully then gave me that look. I silently told her okay, I'll stop.
I helped out a bit in the kitchen pouring the wine and helping set the table. Dinner was delightful. Amanda was smart yet a bit naive with some things, curious about modeling, and enthusiastic about teaching. I think I made a good impression on her because when I was leaving, she asked if I were going shopping with them on Saturday. I looked at Val who was beaming, nodding, yes.
I told her sure I'd love to. We all hugged before I left for home; I think it was a good beginning. Val walked me out to the car apologizing for not telling me about the excursion. She wanted to wait for Amanda's reaction. I told her it was fine. I was glad Amanda liked me. The drive home was filled with images of that sweet redhead. I know it was bad of me, but I couldn't get her out of my mind.
Over the next couple of months, we got together often, shopping, the movies, dinner, or hanging out.
It was mid-July when I called Val and asked her if she wanted to escort me to a Hollywood awards after party. I had no idea what award it was and didn't care. I need to rub elbows and get myself known a bit more for my modeling career. She told me she had to fly to another trade show that week, suggesting I take Amanda instead. I balked a little until she pressed a bit more, telling me Amanda had never been to anything like that. It would be fun for her to see the contrasts between 'real' people and actors. I relented, so Val gave me Amanda's number and told me to text her.
I did just that not expecting a quick reply. Amanda called right away. She was thrilled to be asked, wondering what to wear. I told her something 'glitzy' as it was Hollywood after all. She said she'd have to go shopping and that she'd not disappoint me. I suggested she drive to my house. We'd do Uber or Lyft because I'd planned on drinking a bit to fit in. I gave her my address, telling her what time to be over. She giggled, thanking me then hung up.
Amanda arrived a little early. I was still putting my makeup on when the doorbell rang. I greeted her in my kimono, my hair still up. She looked sweet, but not dressed in the kind of attire one wears to a Hollywood party though. She was dressed in a beige satin blouse, black leather skirt accentuated by black three-inch strappy heels, no hose.
I opened the door wider to let her in. Whatever perfume she was wearing drifted by me stirring sweet memories long past. I hugged her, thanking her for escorting me. Closing the door, I led her to the living room, telling her to have a seat, I was almost ready. She thanked me for inviting her. She'd never done anything like this. She was excited to 'hobnob with the stars'.
Smiling, I told her it would be just a few minutes then went back to putting on my eyeliner. I hung up my kimono, slipped into my five-inch pumps, grabbed my clutch purse, rechecked myself in my full-length mirror. Sighed, hoping I'd get some calls later, I walked out. Amanda got up off the sofa turning to look at me, but she stopped dead in her tracks. She was about to say something but seemed at a loss for words. She stood staring at me.
"What? Is something wrong?" I was worried.
I turned, looking myself over wondering what was wrong. I was wearing a see-through sleeveless, scoop neck, tunic dress with no bra. My nipple piercings were evident as was my beige thong. I had on five-inch silver pumps, with about three inches of bracelets on one wrist. I guess we were complete opposites in our choices as far as attire.
She looked a bit miffed and in awe at the same time.
"Renee, I can't go dressed like this! I look like a Midwest farm girl compared to you."
"Oh sweetie, you're fine. You look great! I'm there to impress; I haven't had a gig in three weeks. You can 'hobnob' while I network. Besides some of those producers love the 'naive farm girl' look. Please. The Uber driver will be here any sec."
"Oh, fine. Just don't abandon me, okay? I'm not THAT naive."
"I know you're not naive, Amanda. I won't abandon you I promise. I told Val I'd watch over you while we're there. Some of those people are real assholes. You're my girlie Q tonight, okay?"
"I guess. Are there any famous people there?"
I grinned. "We'll see won't we."
My phone buzzed from the driver who was outside. We walked out and the dude gawked at us both. We stayed quiet most of the ride. Amanda asked a few questions of me regarding what to expect. I answered as best I could without freaking her out. The driver dropped us off at the Bel-Aire mansion of some producer. I didn't know what time we were going to leave so I hadn't arranged for a ride home. We walked in past the security boys. I flashed our invites and they let us in, looking at Amanda as if she didn't belong.
Amanda was in awe. Even though her mother was wealthy, she'd never seen extravagance like this place. Gold trimmed everything, half-naked people wandering around with drinks in their hands doing fake kisses as they greeted each other. We grabbed a glass of champagne each then strolled around. She pointed out a couple of actors, actually pointing her finger at them. I had to remind her to stay cool and not be so obvious. She giggled apologizing as some woman from a long-running commercial walked by. She almost did it again and caught herself. We held hands as we wandered around the house. I didn't want to lose her to any fast-talking pervert who only wanted to get into her panties.
I was looking to be seen and we did just that. We made small talk with about five people. Amanda held her own, telling people she was an educator, not just a lowly fifth-grade teacher which in my mind is one of the hardest jobs there is. Each little conversation lasted about five or so minutes before someone saw someone else higher up the food chain leaving us in mid topic.
Amanda whispered to me as we headed into the great room, "What a bunch of plastic people."
I smiled back at her, kissing her cheek.
