by Mj Williamz
“I love you.”
“Hey, you two,” Phoebe said. “The party’s kind of breaking up. Did you want to go get something to drink or something?”
“I think we’ll take a rain check,” Boone said. “We need to get home.”
“I understand.” Phoebe winked.
They hugged good-bye.
“I’m so proud of you,” Boone said again.
“Thank you. Thanks to both of you.”
“Keep up the good work, Phoebe,” Grey said.
“I will.”
Boone took Grey’s hand and led her to her truck. She pressed her against the door and kissed her hard on the mouth, her hands roaming over her body.
“God, I love you.”
“Let’s get home,” Grey said.
They drove off into the sunset, knowing what treats were in store for them at home.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of MJ Williamz’s book
SUMMER PASSION
coming in November 2015!
Summer Passion
“Cut!” the director yelled. “That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone.”
Jean Sanders walked off the set and into her dressing room. She felt good about the scenes they had shot that day. She sat down and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. While there were certain things about being America’s Sweetheart that were draining, having her own private dressing room was certainly not one of them.
She was happy with the new movie they were filming. It wasn’t a musical or a western, which were so prevalent right then. It was a heart-wrenching movie about a woman struggling to overcome the loss of her husband during the war. She thought she was playing the part well.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.
“Come.”
“Miss Sanders, Mr. Duvall has invited you to dinner,” one of the stagehands said. David Duvall was the director. He was queer as a three-dollar bill, so she knew it was safe to go out with him. And they often dined together. She was glad she hadn’t unrolled her hair yet.
“Tell him I’ll be out in twenty minutes.”
She washed off the thick makeup she wore for the cameras and skillfully applied her everyday makeup. She finished by applying the deep red lipstick on her lips and stood. She slipped out of her costume and into a nice dress for dinner. She knew David wanted to show her off and would only take her to an upscale restaurant.
Jean checked herself out in the mirror and, satisfied, stepped onto the set again to find David sitting in his chair waiting for her.
“My darling Jean, you look radiant.”
“Thank you, David.”
“I thought we’d have Italian tonight. Barichelli’s sound good to you?”
“Sounds delicious. I’m famished.”
It was a pleasant Hollywood evening. The air was cool but not chilly and Jean was comfortable in her dress. They drove off the set and to the Sunset Strip, the section of Hollywood where people went to see and be seen.
David handed his keys to the valet, then helped Jean out of the car.
“You sure know how to make an exit,” he said. “You’ve got the shapeliest legs in the business.”
“Why, David, you’ll make me blush.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
She took his arm and smiled as the cameras around them flashed and took their picture. She was used to it. And she was used to the rumors linking her with David. It worked for both of them, so they let the gossips wag their tongues.
They managed to get inside the restaurant, where David slipped the maître d’ a twenty dollar bill to be seated soon. It worked and soon they were at a table in the center of the restaurant. If it was privacy they wanted, they would have found a different spot. Several times during the meal, people came up and asked Jean for her autograph, which she graciously provided.
“Your public loves you,” David said.
“Yes, they do. And they will love me even more once Scars of the Heart comes out.”
“Isn’t it a masterpiece of a movie? I’ve no doubt it’ll be a smash.”
“Well, tomorrow is another early day on the set,” Jean said. “You should probably get me home.”
“Yes, dear. I’ll drop you off. And, of course, I’ll send a car for you in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
They drove to Jean’s estate several miles outside of town. It was a lovely, rambling house surrounded by well-kept gardens in the middle of an orange grove.
“As always, it was a pleasure, my dear.”
“Yes, it was, David. Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She got out of the car and let herself in her front door.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming home,” said a woman sitting on a white leather chair.
“Betty. I didn’t realize you were still here.”
Betty was Jean’s longtime maid. She sat in her maid uniform with her legs stretched out before her, clad in fishnet stockings. The high heels she had on clearly indicated she wasn’t there to clean the house.
“I took a shower after I finished and thought I’d wait and see what kind of mood you were in when you got home.”
Jean walked behind Betty and lightly dragged her fingers along one side of her neck while she nuzzled the other side.
“Mmm. You smell good.”
“I used your favorite powder.”
“My Betty is in a mood tonight, aren’t you?”
“Well, I wanted to please you, Ms. Sanders.”
“And be pleased by me, perhaps?”
Jean watched the flush pass over Betty. She loved knowing Betty was so anxious for her. She always enjoyed their playtime.
She slid her hand down the front of Betty’s maid uniform and closed it on a full breast.
“Oh, Betty. You were made for pleasure. Stand up for me.”
Betty did as she was told. Jean walked around her, checking her out.
“Take off that dress,” she said.
Betty started to unbutton it and Jean reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Slowly.”
Betty slowed and unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip off her shoulders and land in a heap on the floor.
Jean walked around her again, admiring her full figure. She was sexy as hell in her thigh-high stockings. She was glad she hadn’t bothered with panties. They were a waste of time, and Jean seldom wore them herself.
She stood in front of Betty, staring into her eyes. She loved the passion she saw burning there.
“Do you want me, Betty?”
“Oh, yes.”
Jean kissed her then, a soft, light kiss.
“You taste good. You taste like wine. Did you have some of my wine?”
“Just a glass.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be numb. I want you alert to feel everything.”
“I want that, too.”
Jean put one hand behind Betty’s head and pulled her to her, kissing her passionately on the mouth. Betty’s mouth opened immediately, and Jean thrust her tongue inside while she slipped her other hand between Betty’s legs to feel how wet and ready she was for her. She plunged her fingers inside as she continued to move her tongue in her mouth.
She felt Betty moan into her mouth as she neared her climax. She continued to work her fingers until Betty collapsed against her.
“Is that what you needed?” Jean asked.
“Oh, yes.”
Jean took her hand and led her to the couch. She laid her back and placed one leg over the back of the couch. She climbed between her legs and lapped up the evidence of her orgasm. She continued to lick every inch of her, spending more time on her clit, which she knew to be hypersensitive. In no time at all, Betty was calling out her name.
“May I please you now, Ms. Sanders?” Betty asked.
“Not tonight. I have an early call.”
“Okay.” Betty was clearly disappointed.
“I’m sorry I got h
ome so late. Had I known you were waiting, perhaps I would have forgone dinner out. But you know I need to be seen out and about on occasion.”
“I understand. I’ll get dressed and see myself out. Thank you, though. I had a swell time.”
“As did I.”
She kissed her good night and went to her room.
She slipped out of her clothes and climbed between her silky-soft sheets. The feel of the fabric on her bare skin did little to cool the heat she was feeling after fucking Betty. She reached between her legs and found her clit swollen and slick. She should have let Betty take care of her, but she had to get up early, and it wouldn’t do to show up on the set with dark circles under her eyes. Still, she couldn’t sleep and felt that a clit that hard shouldn’t be wasted.
She closed her eyes and thought about Dorothy Martin, the woman she costarred with in her last movie. Her dark eyes and sensual smile had teased Jean for months. She imagined Dorothy’s long fingers caressing her as she stroked between her legs. She fantasized about playing with Dorothy’s voluptuous breasts as she pleased herself. As everything she saw in her mind’s eye played out, Jean brought herself to a powerful orgasm.
Filming went well for the next few weeks, and soon Scars of the Heart was a wrap. Jean threw a tremendous party at her estate. All the stars were there, including Dorothy Martin. Jean did her best to charm the cold woman, to no avail. She was a frustrated mess as she wandered the grounds seeing women making out with each other and men doing the same. She needed to find a woman to bed.
A woman she didn’t know approached her.
“Ms. Sanders? Jean Sanders? Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Who else would it be? It’s my house.”
“I know. But there are so many people here. I never dreamed I’d actually meet you.”
Jean was intrigued. The young woman was clearly a fan. But she was a very attractive fan. Which made it very tempting for Jean to attempt to seduce her. But she couldn’t take a chance. Her sexuality had to stay out of the public’s eye.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jean said.
“The pleasure is mine. I’m thrilled to meet you.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”
“I know it’s not right to ask for an autograph at a party like this…” the woman said.
“How did you hear about this party?” Jean wondered how a fan had gotten in to the party.
“I came with Dorothy Martin.”
“You did?” Jean was intrigued.
“Yes. You might say I’m her date.”
“Date, date?”
“Well, I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Answer it honestly,” Jean said. “You can tell me. What do you think I am? An old fuddy-duddy?”
“I should probably go find Dorothy.”
“Okay. Well, again, it was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too.”
Jean watched the woman walk off and enjoyed the view.
Her curiosity and libido piqued, she wandered back to the house to see what was happening there. People were dancing in the ballroom. Others were relaxing in the sitting rooms. Everyone seemed to be having fun.
She saw Betty serving her guests and watched as several women made passes at her. She smiled. She knew Betty was probably more than they could handle. She also knew Betty knew she was working at the moment, so every woman was off-limits.
The sexual mood of the party did nothing to cool her needs. Hollywood was a place where lesbians had to be secretive, but at her parties, everyone was free. If only she could find someone to be free with.
Jean felt the gaze on her before she noticed the brunette watching her from across the room. She looked vaguely familiar with green eyes that called to Jean. Where did she know her from? She tried to remember before she crossed the room. She needn’t have worried. The woman approached her as well.
“Hello, Jean. It’s good to see you again.”
Jean panicked. So she did know the woman. But how?
“You don’t remember me,” the woman said. “I don’t blame you. I was an extra on the set of Nights in Miami. You were always so nice to me. I appreciated that.”
“Of course! That’s how I know you. I knew you looked familiar. How goes the career?”
“I’ve been getting bigger and bigger parts lately. I’m hoping to be famous like you someday.”
“Forgive me,” Jean said, “But your name escapes me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Margaret. But you can call me Maggie.”
“It’s good to see you again, Maggie.” Jean searched for something to say. Maggie’s long brown hair and piercing green eyes had Jean hoping for more than a casual conversation with her. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’d love a martini.”
“Done. Would you like to come with me or wait for me here?”
“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
They walked back to the quiet area that was Jean’s bar.
“So, Maggie, do you have a last name?”
“Cranston.”
“Excellent. I hope to see ‘Margaret Cranston’ in big lights some day.”
“Thank you. You have been my idol for years. I hope I make it like you have.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re on your way. Bigger parts are always a good thing. Tell me, what kind of roles are you looking for?”
“The usual…a romantic lead. I’m not that interested in horror movies. I like good, old-fashioned romances.”
Jean nodded.
“Not to say I wouldn’t take a role like that if it came along. But that’s not where my heart lies.”
“I understand. Let’s take this conversation outside.”
Jean took Maggie’s hand and led her into her small, personal garden. No one else was allowed there, so they had plenty of privacy.
“So where did you get your training, Maggie?”
“I went to Bryn Mawr.”
“That’s a good school.”
“I also did some stock work. I think I’m proving myself a good actress.”
“You did good work on Miami, as I recall. I’m sure you’re making a name for yourself.”
“Thank you. That means the world to me.”
“And what do you do in your free time? What are some of your interests?”
“I like to read and, of course, practice my acting.”
“What do you like to read?”
“I like Elizabeth Bishop and Radclyffe Hall.”
Jean understood exactly what Maggie was saying. She was safe. She, too, was a lesbian, and Jean could relax and be free with her.
“I’ve read Hall as well. It was fairly depressing.”
“Yes. But it was so nice to read about people like me. Like us?”
“Yes. Like us.”
Maggie smiled. Her whole face lit up. Her eyes sparkled. Jean could see the want in them.
“Would you like another drink?” Jean asked.
“Sure.”
They made their way back into the house. When Jean took Maggie’s glass from her, their fingers touched and Jean felt the shock to her core. She knew she would have to have Maggie, and soon.
Drinks in hand, they meandered back to the garden.
“Can I show you around?” Jean asked.
“I’d like that.”
Jean led her past the rosebushes and various other plants that made up her lush garden. When they were out of sight of the house, Jean moved nearer to Maggie.
“I like you, Maggie Cranston.”
“I like you, too, Jean.”
Jean closed the distance between them. She stood taller than Maggie and looked into her eyes. The desire she saw matched hers. She slowly lowered her mouth until it was just inches from Maggie’s.
“You’re beautiful,” Jean whispered.
She watched Maggie’s eyes close. She brus
hed her lips lightly over Maggie’s. They were soft and tasted faintly of martini. She pulled away.
“That was nice,” she said.
“Very.”
Jean kissed her again, more passionately this time. She ran her tongue over Maggie’s lips and they parted, allowing her entry. Her mouth was warm and moist, much as she knew she’d find other parts. Her legs went weak as the kiss deepened.
“Come up to my room?” Jean whispered hoarsely.
“Lead the way.”
Jean led Maggie in a secret entrance to avoid curious stares. She took her upstairs to her room. The big four-poster bed beckoned her. She kissed Maggie again, hard and powerfully, claiming her as her own.
As they kissed, Jean deftly unbuttoned Maggie’s blouse. She slid it off her shoulders and down to the floor. The soft skin beneath the silky bra called to her. It teased her to the point of dizziness.
Light-headed, she caressed the small mounds. She bent to kiss one, then the other.
“Please,” Maggie murmured. “Get this off me.”
Jean reached around behind her and unhooked her bra. She tossed it to the floor, then held both breasts in her hands. She ran her thumbs over the pert nipples and they stood hard under her touch. She lowered her head and licked one, feeling it harden even more. She sucked it deep in her mouth and felt the nipple pressed against the roof of her mouth.
Maggie held her head in place as she mewled. Jean was excited at the sounds she made. But she needed more. Much more.
While she continued to suck, Jean found the button and zipper to Maggie’s skirt, and soon it joined the other clothes on the floor.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” Jean breathed.
She watched as the blush crept over every inch of Maggie. Her desire flared. She ran her hand down Maggie’s backside and felt the satin fabric of her panties against her skin. She slipped her fingers inside the waistband and felt Maggie’s stomach ripple in response. She knew Maggie was ripe for the picking and couldn’t wait to taste her fruit.
Jean slid Maggie’s panties off and watched her shapely legs as she stepped out of them. She eased her back on the bed. When she climbed on top, Maggie worked quickly to strip her clothes. Skin to skin, Jean kissed Maggie again, this time with all the pent-up passion she had. She felt every inch of Maggie against her, her heated flesh spurring her on.
