Queen Bee 6

In high school, I was the Queen Bee. Head cheerleader, Prom Queen, the girlfriend of the BMOC. I was the girl who determined who was in, who was out and who was tied to the flagpole and pantsed. If I thought you were cool, you were cool. If I thought you were a worthless dweeb, well, enough said.

I had the best solos in the choir and the lead in all the plays. I was the "It" girl, without a doubt, and my future was bright. Broadway and Hollywood awaited. They hadn't seen anything like me, Diana Newell.

So, when I turned 18-years-old, I set off looking for fame and fortune. I enjoyed a live audience, so I chose to head out to New York instead of Hollywood. My daddy had arranged an apartment for me and an interview with an agent. I took my savings (a whole $5000) and took the train to my destiny.

The agent cooled my expectations. He said, "Honey, you're a tasty bit of tail, but so are the other thousands of hopefuls that show up at my door. You're lucky that your father knows my aunt, or you wouldn't have seen the inside of this office." He looked at my resume once more, chuckled again at all the high school plays I had so proudly listed, and said "We'll send out your pictures and get you set up with any casting calls that come up. But don't get your hopes up. There's a lot of hopefuls out there and some of them can hold a high C longer than you can stand."

I was dejected when I left his office, but perked up over the next week as I went sightseeing in my new city. At night, I went nightclubbing and met some girls who were already cast in plays or were models. They told me that my agent was an old fuddy-duddy that no one uses. They gave me a couple of contacts that they said were sure to be able to use me.

At the end of the week, I hadn't heard from my agent but was shocked to see I'd already gone through more than $1000 dollars. My father had paid my first month's rent, but I was expected to cover it from then on. At this rate, I wouldn't last a month. I couldn't wait for my agent. I found the cards the girls had given me and made the call.

"I'm really busy," Todd, the recommended agent, said. "But Gina told me all about you, and I may have a small part that's tailor made for you. Come down this afternoon, and we'll see if I'm right."

I was down at his door at half past noon. That was just barely afternoon, but I couldn't wait any longer. But I did end up waiting. It was almost 2:30 PM before Todd returned from lunch. I jumped up when he came in and he eyed me like my father would eye a prize heifer he planned to buy. I was glad I had worn a dress that emphasized my figure. I gave a little twirl and looked back at him over my shoulder, seductively. It was my signature move.

"Yeaaah," Todd drawled. "You'll do, nicely." He sat me down and made a phone call. He spoke glowingly about me, about my beauty, my figure, and my leading lady experience. Now I was glad I had listed my high school plays.

When he hung up, he said that he was taking me to dinner tomorrow night with a producer of a TV show shot right there in New York, "NYPD Vice". "Oh", burst out of me before I could stop it. "All my friends back home watch that show." I thought to myself how wonderful it would be to appear on a show where all my friends would see me. Wouldn't they be jealous.

I was leaving the office when I ran into Gina. I thanked her and offered to treat her to a clubbing night. She happily accepted and we arranged to meet at 10:00 PM that night.

Gina insisted that we sit at a large booth in case any of the other girls showed up. She really wanted me to meet everyone. "It'll be good for your career, sweetie. Networking is better than having an agent. You'll learn about all the casting calls sooner from your friends, believe me."

We ordered drinks from the cocktail waitress, and I let her know I was buying. She took my card and said she'd run a tab.

We hadn't finished the first drinks when several of Gina's friends showed up and joined us. They were wonderful; a set of beautiful girls who were just like me, all Queen Bees. We partied until 4 AM, when the bar closed. By then, several men had joined us, and I was feeling no pain. We drank and danced for six hours. Gina leaned over and kissed me, on the lips. Her tongue darted into my mouth.

I was shocked to say the least. I didn't know what to do. "Thanks, sweetie," Gina whispered. "I've got to run and get some sleep. I've got an appointment I can't miss." With that, she swept out with her friends and the guys that had joined us.

When I recovered, I found the waitress waiting to close out my tab. I thought I'd been shocked when Gina kissed me, but now I realized that she'd fucked me, as well.

"This can't be right. The two of us couldn't have drunk this much!" The bill was over $5000!

"Honey, your tab was for the booth. You were buying everyone's drinks." The waitress smirked at me. "Your friend, the one you came in with? She pulls this shit all the time."

Numbly I signed the credit card receipt. I was fucked. I wouldn't have enough money for my rent or even food. I wouldn't even have enough money to pay the credit card bill when it came. And my father wouldn't be able to help me. He'd already stretched to pay my first month's rent.

I walked home with tears in my eyes. I had sunk into a depressed state. I could see no way out of my financial disaster when I felt a slap on my ass and heard a guy ask, "How much for a blowjob, cunt?"

I looked up at the face of a slimy creep and realized I had lost track of my surroundings. I had put myself in danger.

I ran. I ran all the way back to my apartment without stopping. I could still hear the creep's laughter following me.

I closed the door to my apartment, triple locked it and then turned and leaned against it. How could he think I was a whore? Couldn't he see that I was something special? "What a creep." I dismissed him from my thoughts and crashed on the bed.

When Todd showed up for our dinner appointment, he was in a limousine! I was going to ride in my first limo! I was sure it wouldn't be my last. And, if this was any indication, maybe the part in the TV show would pay enough to help cover my bills. And if I got one part, others would surely follow. A lot was riding on tonight's meeting.

Todd eyed me approvingly. "You look good. Mr. Grossman, the producer, will be impressed." As I settled into the plush seat, Todd told me that if Grossman liked me, he was sure to hook me up with a lot of roles. "Maybe even a recurring role on 'NYPD Vice'" I almost squealed with delight. That would really make them jealous at home.

I was still daydreaming about my success when I realized that Todd was telling me to be "friendly" with the producer. "What do you mean, Todd? Friendly? Are you suggesting...."

Todd interrupted me. "I'm not suggesting anything. I just telling you that your success will be tied to how 'friendly' you are with Mr. Grossman."

The rest of the ride was in silence. Was Todd really suggesting that I sleep with the producer for a role? Surely not. He must have wanted me to flirt with the man, show him I was friendly. Yeah, that's what he meant. Surely.

We stopped in front of a fancy restaurant. Inside, it was wonderful. There was even a dance band and a dance floor. It was like an old black and white movie. Even the girl in the band was singing "Someone to Watch Over Me." It was wonderful.

But not Mr. Grossman. If a name ever fit, it was his. His shirt strained to stay tucked into his belt over his protruding stomach. His tie had stains on it and his suit, which was obviously expensive, hung on his frame like the cheapest coat off the rack at JC Penney's. He was chomping on an unlit cigar, which would have been lit if the restaurant allowed smoking. When he shook my hand, his was very sweaty. I wanted so badly to immediately wipe my hand off but stopped myself. When we set, I put my napkin on my lap and surreptitiously wiped my hand as I smoothed the clothe down.

Grossman smacked his lips loudly and said, "Diane, you're just my type. You're perfect for the role I have in mind." He took a swig of his beer and belched. Charming, I thought. "I don't know where you find them, Todd, but you always find the sexy ones."

I struggled to keep a smile on my face through dinner. The producer made several comments about my figure, (he was especially taken with my "beautiful derrière", he said). At one point, he asked for my breast size.

I must have lost my smile because Todd jumped in, "For the costumes, Diane. You know that. If the dress is too tight over your large breasts, it'll look even worse on the screen." Grossman nodded in agreement.

"36C," I said reluctantly. I know they looked bigger on my small, thin frame, but they really weren't huge. But Mr. Grossman smacked his lips again and smiled.

After dinner, while waiting for coffee and desserts, the producer asked me to dance. Todd enthusiastically encouraged me. Mr. Grossman grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor. It was a slow dance, for which I was initially thankful. I was able to dry my hand on his ill-fitting jacket.

But then I felt his hand slowing rubbing up and down my back. I was uncomfortable, but with my $5000 bar tab on my mind, I didn't want to alienate the man who could solve my problems. But then his hand slid down and he grabbed my ass, giving it a hard squeeze. I jumped back, out of his grasp, barely restraining the slap I desperately wanted to give him. Instead, I turned and almost ran back to the table.

Todd had jumped up and grabbed my arms. "Not a good move, Diane. I told you, be nice to the guy if you want to succeed." He looked at the unhappy Mr. Grossman as he headed towards the table. "Sit down and I'll see if I can make this right."

I sat down and looked at the table while Todd assured Mr. Grossman that he'd surprised me, is all. That I wasn't used to dancing in New York. "Let's just sit and enjoy our coffees and desserts."

Todd asked if I took sugar in my coffee, and before I could answer he was dumping a packet into my cup and stirring it for me. I tried to smile, but it felt phony. I sipped the coffee and tasted the dessert. They were both outstanding. By the time I finished the cup, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Todd noticed and suggested that they take Mr. Grossman back to his hotel.

When I awoke in the morning, my eyes were sticky, and my brain felt numb. I looked around the room, not recognizing where I was. After a moment, I realized that I was in a hotel room and that I was naked. A quick examination showed that I hadn't slept alone. I started crying. I'd been raped.

When I was able, I went into the bathroom and peed. I was barely able to spin around when I vomited up last night's delicious meal. I went to the sink to rinse my mouth but stopped when I saw the image in the mirror. I had a giant hickey on my neck and bruises on my breast. Looking further down, I saw bruising on my thighs and ass.

I sat on the bed and cried some more. Should I call the police? My dad was going to be so ashamed of me. I began sobbing.

Todd! I called Todd. When he got on the phone, before I could speak, he exuberantly congratulated me. "You got the part, honey! I knew you could do it!"

"He raped me, Todd. I don't know how it happened, but I'm naked in his hotel room and somebody screwed me. It could only be him! I'm calling the cops..."

"Wait a minute, kid! You were all over him when I left. You insisted on going to his room. If the cops ask me, that's what I'll have to tell them." I gasped. It couldn't be true! He continued, "And I'm sure the hotel staff that saw you will report the same. And if you call the cops, you can count on kissing this role, and any future roles, goodbye."

I was dumbfounded. I needed the role. I needed the money. But I was raped. What could I do?

Todd told me, "Come down to the office. We'll work this out."

I showered, then bathed. Then I drained the tub and bathed again. I would never feel clean. When the water became cold, I reluctantly got out, dressed, and went to see Todd. I sat morose in front of his desk.

"You know, you got the part. It may run a week, which could mean as much as $6,000 for you." Todd smiled at me. "Of course, that's less my 10%. And it could mean more roles for you." He frowned. "Or you could go to the police and report this so-called 'rape'. But since you've washed away any evidence and I would have to testify that you'd gone up to his room willingly, well, I think all you would accomplish is tanking a promising career that's just getting started."

I felt it was wrong and I wanted to scream. But $6,000. Or $5,400 after Todd's 10% - that could put me back in the black. And if it meant more roles... I sighed and nodded my head.

"Great," Todd said. "However, I should warn you that Grossman will probably want to have, ah, 'dinner', with you a couple of times during filming."

"NO!" I did scream that time. I was shaking like a leaf with frustration, outrage, and anger. Did Todd really expect me to whore myself for a role?

"Sweetheart," Todd sighed. "You've already done this once, and you might not remember, but it was your choice and it got you the role. Don't throw it all away." I just sat there, shaking, and crying. "Look, I'll have your contract here tomorrow. If you want to be a star, be in movies, this is how it works. Think about it and come back tomorrow to sign the papers."

On the way home, I bought a fifth of bourbon. I sat at my apartment window, looking at what I now knew was a cruel city. I sipped at the bottle while I wallowed in self-pity. I decided that I would just go home. I picked up the phone and dialed my mom's number.

"Oh, Diane, now's not a good time. Our financial advisor is here, and we're trying to work out some problems with your father's investments." My mom sounded uncharacteristically worried.

"Mom, is it bad?" I had to ask.

My mother's voice dropped to a whisper. "It could be. It's not good. I'm scared." I heard my father's voice in the background. Mom's voice returned to its normal level. "I've got to go, honey. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I put the cap back on the bottle of bourbon. I really didn't have a choice. If Mom and Dad were having financial problems, I couldn't waste their gift of the month's rent and I had to begin earning money as soon as possible to help them out. I cried myself to sleep thinking of 'dinners' with the producer of "NYPD Vice." I no longer thought my friends would be jealous of my appearance on TV, not if they knew what it took to get there.

I signed the TV contract the next day, and when I talked to my mother, she sounded more worried than I'd ever heard her sound before, even when my brother had been in an accident and needed surgery. Apparently, my father had fallen for a 'sure thing' deal and was nearly wiped out when the stock failed. Mom said that she wasn't sure how they were going to be able to pay taxes on the farm. She was crying when she hung up.

My part stretched out for a week. I was paid $6,200 (less Todd's 10%). But I had to have 'dinner' every night with the producer. We only had a real dinner twice before sex; the rest of the time it was straight up to his room for a quickie. He'd grope at me, pull off my clothes and force my head down to his crotch. His was my first circumcised penis. For a big fat man, his was the smallest penis I'd ever seen, and that included my accidental entrance when my 10-year-old brother was getting out of the shower.

Thank God Grossman never wanted to cum in my mouth. He just wanted me to get him hard, then he'd climb on top of me and pump a few times. He never lasted more than a couple of minutes. After our first session, when he just laid there with all his weight suffocating me, I insisted on doggy-style thereafter. He thought it was kinky.

I hated myself, but with every phone call home, the news got worse. Apparently, they were going to have trouble making the mortgage payments soon. My well-off parents were quickly reduced to possible bankrupts. So, I smiled at the producer and acted more in that hotel room than on the set. He actually seemed to believe that he was a wonderful lover. He talked about making my role a recurring one.

When that didn't happen, I begged Todd to find me work, any work. He promised he would but wanted more than his 10%. His penis was considerable larger than Grossman's. Thinking of my parents, I smiled and did my best to impress. I apparently succeeded because Todd called me with an audition the next day. "This is right up your alley," he promised. "And it pays $400 or more per hour, and they can pretty much guarantee all the work you want."

Sounded too good to be true, and it was. When I showed up for the audition at Exotique Studios, the posters on the walls clued me in that this was a porno studio. The audition started with a demand, delivered in a bored tone, that I strip.

I hesitated, wanting to say 'No'. Instead, I heard myself ask how much money I could earn.

"Maybe $10,000 a week; more, depending on what sexual acts you're willing to perform," was the reply. A week or two might cover the taxes on the farm. I removed my clothes.

The bored men sat up straighter as I stripped. I forced a smile. I could act. I acted like a porn star. I turned, wiggled my ass, and looked back at them over my shoulder. I winked at them.

They wanted to know if I had ever done oral, anal, girl-on-girl, or if I'd ever had multiple partners. I'd done oral, but none of the other stuff, but I told them if it paid well, I was game. "We'll see," they said, and picked up the phone. A few minutes later a very male actor came into the room. He was a gorgeous hardbody. They explained that he was going to partner with me in a screen test, where I would be performing various acts, to see how I came across on camera. Soon, for the first time in New York, I had the audience I'd come to town for. I just hadn't thought that I would be having sex in front of that audience. I performed oral on Stan the Man (his stage name, he was really Morris Feldman), he on me, then we rotated through missionary, doggy, and cowgirl, before I was flipped around and twisted into positions, I didn't know the names for, while Stan pounded in and out of me. He had impressive stamina, and a real porn star sized penis.

"Anal," the command came from the audience. Suddenly I felt a wet finger, then fingers, penetrate my anus as Stan lubed me up. I was scared, clenching down on his fingers. "Relax," Stan told me. "Trust me, it doesn't really hurt if you relax. I've done a ton of gay films, so believe me, I know all about anal."

After greasing up his pole, Stan positioned himself and gently started pushing into me, tell me to "push back, like you're going to take a crap." So romantic, with four guys watching my anal deflowering.

Honestly, it hurt, but nowhere near what I expected. And when I had adjusted the angle Stan was coming in at, the pain mostly went away. I began enjoying it and soon was surprised with a strong orgasm. The men actually applauded. I blushed.

When Stan finally came and pulled out, one of the interviewers asked if I would do "ass-to-mouth". I had to ask what he meant. When he told me, all I could say was "EWWW!"

"I'll pay you $500 right now if you do it." I gagged, but I did it. Like the anal sex, it wasn't as bad as I expected. The taste was there, but whatever lube Stan used had a strong minty taste that disguised a lot of the shitty taste. And after a few strokes in and out of my mouth, his dick was so bathed in my saliva, that the taste was gone, and everything was okay. I could do this.

So that's the story of how I became "Bea Queen" (my stage name), the porno star. My films became very popular, and I was able to pay the taxes and repay my parents enough that they were able to return to a sound financial footing. I never told them I was a porno queen. They thought I had gotten a job on Wall Street and had given up my theatrical hopes. I did have a nice financial portfolio now.