Around the World in 80 Babes
Chapter 14: The City That Never Sleeps… Alone
March 27th, 2005
The New York Hilton
New York, NY, USA
“Nice digs, boss.”
Richard Stall smiled as he looked around the penthouse suite he’d just hired out for the next several weeks. It was, arguably, the best in the Hilton, but it paled in comparison to Stall’s own home in London.
Michael Burke plopped down on one of the two fancy couches along one wall, facing a rather impressive plasma screen TV. “Should be interesting to see some of our footage on this screen, huh Boss?”
“Is that all you ever think about, Mike?” Marissa Call asked as she came around the corner from her individual bedroom. Clad in a fashionable top and short skirt, Marissa was working all the considerable charms her nineteen-year-old body had. Stall allowed himself a small glance, and the noticed Burke was giving her a considerably longer gaze.
“Hey, you aren’t the only one in these videos now,” Burke shot back.
“Oh, drop it Mike,” Marissa said, plopping down on the couch next to him and playfully swatting his ebony-toned arm. “It was, what, three weeks ago when you banged Destiny’s Child-”
“And Thandie Newton, don’t forget her,” Burke said, smiling.
“- and you haven’t shut up about it yet,” Marissa went on, ignoring Burke’s comment. “I’ve still snagged more pussy on this trip than you have, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t had a freakin’ foursome with Destiny’s Child, have you?”
“That’s just because I was being held at gunpoint! If it hadn’t been for that, I would’ve been the one getting all that sista-pussy.”
“Girl, you’re too white to use words like sista,” Burke said.
“YOU are too white to be using words like that, Michael,” Stall said, smiling. “You aren’t exactly a hood cat.”
“Hood RAT, boss. Hood rat. But, yeah, my mother made it a point to make sure I learned how to speak proper English.”
“And yet you still have that awful American accent,” Stall replied.
“Hey, we’re on my turf now, Boss. Let’s watch the language comments.”
“Anyway,” Marissa cut in. “How long are we going to sit here before we go out Celeb Pussy hunting?”
“Not very long at all,” Stall said, grabbing his cellphone. He hit his newest speed-dial entry, and soon enough, a familiar voice hit his ears.
“Welcome to America, boss,” Tom Lambert replied through the phone.
“Hang on a sec, Lambert,” Stall said, placing the phone down on a coffee table. “Let me put you on speaker.”
“Cool,” Lambert said, his voice suddenly loud and clear.
“Hey Lambert,” Burke said.
“Howdy guys, welcome home.”
“Good to be home,” Marissa said.
“How’re you settling in to your new Pit?” Stall asked.
“Perfectly. It’s almost identical to the one we have in England.”
“Where is this new Pit, anyway?” Burke asked.
“I’m ensconced in a very nice little house out on Long Island,” Lambert said. “Rather fancy for my taste, but I’ll make due.”
“I made sure there were three or four different pizza places that would deliver nearby,” Stall said.
“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it!” Lambert replied.
“So, what’s the gossip? Where are we going to find hot celeb babes?” Marissa asked.
“Not a lot of gossip these days, at least, unless you’re into Brad and Jen news,” Lambert said,
“Ooh, I’d be into Brad AND Jen,” Marissa said.
“Did Angelina every tell you if she was fucking Brad during his marriage?” Burke asked.
“Angelina fucking Brad, no,” Marissa said with a sparkle in her eyes. “Angelina fucking Bard with a strap-on, oh yes.”
“Whoa, better not let THAT leak to the press,” Lambert said. “Here’s something you might be interested in, Boss – seems Sarah Jessica Parker is more than a bit depressed that she’s been removed as Gap spokesperson in favor of Joss Stone.”
“Joss Stone?” Stall asked.
“She’s lovely,” Marissa said.
“She’s also only Seventeen,” Burke pointed out.
“Only until the Eleventh,” Lambert said. “Then she’s legal in the states!”
“Well, what do we do until then?” Stall asked.
“Actually, I was thinking Sarah Jessica Parker might be a good idea,” Lambert said.
“She’s doable,” Marissa said.
“Isn’t she married?” Burke asked.
“So, what? Half the people we’ve fucked so far have been married.”
“We’ll keep her in mind,” Stall said. “Any other suggestions?”
“Well, here’s an idea – Lindsay Korman.”
“Who?” All three asked at once.
Lambert sighed. “She’s a Soap Opera star – some show called ‘Passions.’ Lovely girl. She’s of Greek and Italian decent, making for a lovely skin complexion. I’ll send you over some photos.”
“Peachy,” Burke muttered.
“Where do we find her?” Marissa asked.
“Well, she’s in New York doing a minor press junket, and taking a few days off. Her husband and daughter are away at the moment…”
“Another married one,” Burke commented.
“Yes, but she might be open to a little experimentation of the Sapphic kind,” Stall said. “Marissa, find her and grab her. Burke, go with her. Take the limo we bought for here in the states.”
“What about you, boss?”
“I have some actual business to work on. Lambert, can you bug Sarah Jessica Parker’s apartment, like you did with Kate Beckinsale’s flat?”
“Already on it, boss. My boys showed up to install her new central heating system. Her bedroom will be covered from every angle by bedtime.”
“Let’s just hope she gets some soon,” Marissa said.
“Lambert, I’ve got your contact info on this Korman girl,” Burke said. “Are you sure about this?”
“The DDR is her favorite NYC club,” Lambert said. “At least, according to what information I can dig up on the net. Hang out there, and sooner or later, she’ll show up.”
Marissa took one look at Burke and frowned. “Guess we better get you geared up for the clubs, big boy.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“If you can asked that, you need more help than you think.”
* * *
March 30th, 2005
New York, NY, USA
“Love the shirt,” Marissa said as she lead the way into DDR – three nights of showing up, and they still had no idea what DDR stood for.
“You picked it out,” Burke muttered as they passed by the bouncer. They’d had a bit of trouble the first night getting in, but after flashing a rather generous amount of Stall’s cash, the security was more than happy to see their new “regulars.”
“You actually look very nice in purple.”
“I feel like an idiot,” Burke muttered.
“Well, you blend in well,” Marissa said as the two walked up towards the bar. “Remind me to thank Lambert for my new ID.”
“You say that every night,” Burke muttered.
“And I mean it. Nice to be able to drink here in America – got used to being able to do so in France.”
“Just stop mentioning it, before you get us in trouble.”
“Right, right,” Marissa said, all but ignoring him. For her part, Marissa was clad in a shimmering silver top that plunged down between her breasts, and a matching short skirt that emphasized the short part more than the skirt. It was certainly not surprising to Burke that she looked down right amazing in the outfit, but what was surprising was that, apparently, she thought he looked rather good, too.
They arrived at the bar and ordered, Burke sticking to a simple beer, much to the bartender’s continual disgust. Marissa ordered a Sex on the Beach, which Burke figured was just a cheap excuse to get to say the word Sex while in a bar.
“Ready for another fun night?” Marissa asked after taking a long sip of her drink.
“It won’t be fun unless our girl shows up… is that Paris Hilton over there?”
“No, and you’ve asked that every night we’ve been coming here.”
“Sorry, all these pencil-thin blondes look alike.”
“So look for some brunettes,” Marissa said. “Not that you’re hurting for pussy.”
“Well, I haven’t had any since I had Destiny’s Child,” Burke smiled. “But, then again, that’s hard to top.”
“I had Charlize Theron and Angelina Jolie at the same time,” Marissa said. “I win.”
“Hey, is that our girl over there?” Burke said, motioning towards the far end of the bar.
Marissa looked over. “Looks like her. And is that another girl she’s hanging off of?”
“Well, that’s certainly a girl she’s talking with. I take it you want to take this one?”
“Why not,” Marissa smirked, downing the rest of her drink. “I’m horny. Don’t wait up.”
“Right,” Burke muttered. Turning back towards the bar and motioning for another beer.
By the time Burke looked up again, his fresh beer in hand, Marissa was chatting up Lindsay Korman and buying the soap star a drink. Shaking his head, he got ready to leave. Marissa would be needing a ride from wherever Miss Korman was sleeping tonight, and he suspected Stall would be sending him.
“That purple shirt is so hot,” a voice said next to Burke.
“Huh?” Burke asked, spinning around – to see Paris Hilton looking up at him.
“Do you look as hot without the shirt?” Paris said, running a finger down Burke’s chest.
* * *
One of the first things Marissa learned about Lindsay Korman upon chatting her up was that the five foot, three inch beauty may have taken her husband’s last name for legal reasons, but almost never used it. Happy marriage or not, Lindsay was more than willing to fool around.
And, from the way she was looking at Marissa, it appeared she might have been willing to fool around with Marissa.
“You’re so young,” Lindsay said, finishing off her third drink since Marissa had met her. “I wish I was twenty-one again.”
Marissa tried not to smile too much. “Oh, come on, you’re, what, twenty-seven?”
“Yeah,” Lindsay said, surprised. “How’d you guess?”
“Don’t know,” Marissa lied – she’d done her homework on Lindsay long before this.
“You’re something special,” Lindsay said.
“Why thank you. I think you’re pretty, too.”
“More than Pretty,” Marissa said, leaning in close. She could smell the alcohol on Lindsay’s breath. “Sexy.”
“Sexy?” Lindsay asked, not backing away.
“Oh, yeah,” Marissa said, boldly kissing the soap star on the mouth. Lindsay went stiff, but didn’t pull away. Taking a risk, Marissa ran her tongue along the edge of Lindsay’s teeth, and was rewarded when the other woman opened up and let her in. They tongued for several long seconds, Marissa making a point to keep her back towards the crowd – best that not a lot of people saw Lindsay exploring her mouth just yet – though she was sure Lambert was probably taping the kiss for inclusion in the video for the Timekeepers Club.
When she finally pulled free, Marissa could see Lindsay was flushed. The lovely Miss Korman was flustered, her eraser hard nipples poking through her top.
“That… t-that was…” Lindsay tried to speak, but Marissa cut her off.
“Do you have a place to go where we can be alone?” Marissa asked, smiling mischievously.
“Y-yes,” Lindsay said.
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
Michael Burke was almost man handled into the bathroom stall, Paris Hilton’s fingers already flying to his belt buckle. He was quite glad he’d worn Stall’s watch and pendant around his neck. He’d half hoped he’d get a shot at Lindsay Korman – the delightful looking little minx was more his type than this blonde bimbo, but then again, sex was sex, and he wasn’t going to turn down a celebrity – especially since it would help Stall along in his quest.
“You, dude, have got to be one lucky bastard,” Lambert’s voice filled Burke’s ears. Burke rolled his eyes, then shut them as Paris reached into his Boxers and started jacking his cock.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Paris said. “I’ve gotta be at another club in forty minutes. Do you mind if I give you a blowjob real quick, and then we fuck right here?”
“N-no,” Burke said. Paris dropped to her knees, pulling Burke’s boxers down with her. Now standing naked from the waist down in the women’s bathroom of DDR, Burke marveled at how his life had been going of late.
“Dude, this is great. It gives Marissa time to get to wherever Lindsay’s staying, and you can get a good solid blowjob film for us. Try to hold off as long as possible. Can you do that?”
As Lambert asked, Paris engulfed Burke’s entire cock in her mouth, coating it in saliva as she slowly pulled off it. “Oh, yeah,” Burke moaned.
“I love it when a man responds to me,” Paris said, suddenly sounding a little un-Paris like. “You know, most men just fuck me and don’t even show any appreciation. It’s rather appalling.”
“Dude,” Lambert’s voice cut into Burke’s thoughts. “Are you sure that’s Paris Hilton? The bimbo.”
“Oh,” Paris said, giggling as she jacked Burke’s cock with her hand. “I’m sorry, do you want the bimbo routine? I know a lot of guys get off on that. I can do it if you want.”
“You don’t have to,” Burke said.
“Thanks,” Paris said, licking the tip of his cock playfully. “It gets tiring, but it made me famous!”
“My god,” Burke moaned as Paris sucked his dick back into her mouth and really started in.
“Well, well, well,” Lambert muttered in Burke’s ear. “Learn something new every day, don’t you?”
Burke ignored him. He was too busy enjoying his blowjob.
* * *
March 30th, 2005
New York City Palisades Hotel
New York, NY, USA
The hotel room Lindsay Korman was spending her time in wasn’t the most fancy – certainly not a penthouse suite, nor even anywhere near the top floor. But it had two queen-sized beds, and that was one bed more than Marissa needed. Lindsay’s dress was already loose, the neck down around her waist, her ample chest open for Marissa to get at.
And get at she did. As the lithe little blonde pressed the elder brunette back onto the bed, she locked her lips around Lindsay’s nipples and started sucking.
“Oh! Oooh! Oooooh!” Lindsay moaned as Marissa pinned her to the bed, her body reacting to Marissa’s touch. “That feels sooooooo good!”
“Sush, don’t distract me,” Marissa said as she started kissing down Lindsay’s body. Every kiss on that caramel skin made the soap star shudder, no matter where she placed it. Just above the belly button? Shiver. Over on one of her hip bones? Shiver. At the trailing edge of her rib cage? Shiver.
Marissa hadn’t even bothered to remove her own dress yet – she didn’t need to. Hell, there was a good chance she wouldn’t even need to get Lindsay naked to get her off. But she would, simply because it made for a better video.
For a second, she wondered where Lambert was. Burke was complaining that the video nerd was always yapping in his ear when he’d been fucking girls – even that first time Marissa gave Burke the blowjob in the limo in France, Lambert had apparently been yakking at him the entire time.
“I need to feel your skin,” Lindsay moaned, surprising Marissa. She’d almost forgotten the other girl was awake.
“Not yet,” Marissa smiled as she slid down off the bed, ending up between Lindsay’s legs. She smiled as she pulled open those wonderful gams and watched as the fabric of the flowing dress fell between Lindsay’s legs, hiding her snatch from view.
“Don’t stop!” Lindsay called out, clearly lost without Marissa’s touch. Marissa smiled – this girl was really getting into it. Time to up the ante a little. Reaching up, Marissa unhooked the clasp on the bottom of the dress, and allowed most of the fabric to fall to the floor. Lindsay now lay on the bed clad only in one tiny black thong that was soaking wet in the crotch.
“Oh, god, yes, eat me!” Lindsay called. “Please!”
“Nope,” Marissa giggled as she gently kissed Lindsay’s leg. The girl swooned slightly, but Marissa just switched legs, gently kissing the other one. She slowly, painfully, worked her way up the inside of the other girls legs, until she could smell Lindsay’s soaked panties, not inches from her nose.
“Auuuugghhhh!” Lindsay cried out in need. “Please fucking EAT ME!!!”
Marissa looked up at her newest lover and smiled. “All right.”
* * *
March 30th, 2005
New York, NY, USA
Michael Burke had no idea if it was the chemical aphrodisiac he’d worn that night, or if Paris Hilton was just a complete slut, but either way, things had worked out well for him.
“Harder!” Paris cried out as Burke shoved his cock deep into Paris’ snatch. The sight of her shaved, pink pussy wrapped around his dick was more than enough to keep Burke hard, despite the distractions of doing it in a cramped bathroom stall, and a blabbing Lambert in his ears.
“Oh, yeah, that’s it! Right there!” Paris moaned as Burke thrust harder into her. Burke began to wonder if he’d lowered his standards a bit too much here. Sure, it turned out she wasn’t the ditsy blonde she appeared to be in the media, but she was clearly a slut. If he wasn’t getting paid for this, he might have left pretty quick anyway.
Suddenly, Paris shivered. Her head drooped to her chest, and she clutched his arms with her fingers, practically drawing blood with her fingernails.
“Ahhh,” she cooed. “That was great.”
“You came?” Burke blurted out.
“Oh yeah. You’re a good fuck. Remind me to do you again some day.” With that, she started to let go of him.
“Hang on a second,” Burke said, gripping her waist tight and continuing to thrust. “I’m not done yet.”
Paris rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, just hurry up. I got places to be.”
Burke thrust deep into her, forcefully fucking her now. He closed his eyes, and for a long moment, tried to imagine it was Beyonce Knowles wrapped around his manhood. That helped, but it didn’t last long. Before he knew it, Burke had another face in his mind as he screwed Paris Hilton. And it was that face that got him off, shooting a huge load into Paris’ hungry slit.
The face of Marissa Call.
* * *
March 31st, 2005
New York City Palisades Hotel
New York, NY, USA
Lindsay Korman lay naked and sweaty on her bed, the light coming in from the window giving her sultry skin a touch of glow.
Marissa Call smiled. Lindsay had climaxed six times in the last two hours, providing enough footage to make a true blockbuster for the boys back in London. Marissa lay beside Lindsay, her own legs still covered in a combo of sweat and girl-cum that added a unique erotic smell to the room – one Marissa had smelled before and was sure to smell again.
It had been a fun night, and Lindsay had been a fun lover. No doubt, Stall would be happy.
Speak of the devil, that was Stall talking to her through the earpiece she wore.
“Don’t say anything,” he cautioned, “we don’t want to wake Miss Korman. I just wanted to let you know that Burke’s waiting for you downstairs. You did a damn good job tonight – one of our best tapes to date. I’m sure you’re tired, so I’ll talk with you more in the morning. I just wanted to thank you again. I’m glad you’re still with us.”
With that, Stall was gone, and Marissa slowly slid out of bed, her own naked body gleaming with sweat much as Lindsay’s was. For a moment, she wondered why Stall would call her like that. And then she realized that, quite possibly, he hadn’t expected her to remain with him once they got to the States. She’d bargained two tapes of lesbian sex with celebrities for a ticket out of France. She’d stuck with him through an attempted assassination, and a near-fatal kidnaping. And somehow, she was still with him, secret taping her lesbian escapades with famous women. Stall didn’t even plan on selling or publishing the tapes. In the end, what did he really hope to accomplish, aside from winning his stupid bet?
And, more to the point, why was she still here? Her home wasn’t that far from here – not far enough that what money she had on her wouldn’t more than cover bus fare there and back again. She could give up this life – being a whore, a private porno-slut, a lesbian voyeur.
She had no real loyalty to Stall, did she? He was giving her some money, but really, she’d make more as an actual porn actress. Hell, she could leave for Hollywood in the morning, and by the end of the week be making a very healthy living fucking women on film who knew they were being taped.
So why didn’t she do it?
That question was still on her mind when she entered Burke’s limo and rode all the way back to Stall’s suite