Cindy Inc.: You Know… For Kids! Chapter 2

The continuing adventures of Cindy Crawford –

supermodel, mother and celebrity bordello owner. The

events in these stories are fictional and not intended

to represent the actual behaviour of the women (and

men) herein. Any comments, praise, complaints,

requests for women to be included go on the message

boards or to cindylover1969@yahoo.co.uk

Gwyneth Paltrow says “Previously on ‘Cindy Inc’…”

Cindy Inc has successfully expanded on the Continent

and is about to open in London, but along with the

other problems in the run-up to opening night Natalie

Portman is being plagued
by a deranged fan; Gorgeous

Gwyneth is being plagued by her comments on British

men (more of which to come in this chapter); Elle

Macpherson is being plagued by suggestions that she

leave; and worst of all, Cindy Crawford is being

plagued by the 3 AM Girls. Now read on…

(NOTE: S Club have, of course, now broken up. But this

is my story, so at the time it’s set they’re still

together.)

* * * * * * * * * *

Cindy mentally counted to 20 over and over to keep

from shrieking. It would have been a real boost to

have Elisha Cuthbert come over; “24” had made her a

favourite with guys on both sides of the Atlantic, and

having her come over specifically for Cindy Inc UK

instead of to promote the show would have been one in

the eye for the BBC (whose on-air personalities had

been forbidden for the most part to join up). And now

she was likely to miss the opening…

“Okay,” she said calmly. “The second Elisha gets a new

seat call me. We can still go ahead.”

“Yeah,” Gwyneth agreed, counting them off. “You, me,

Nat, Elle, Nicole, Kate Winslet, Sophie, Amanda,

Holly, Lisa Snowdon, Cammie Diaz, Liberty X, Cat,

Linsey Dawn, the Tylers…”

“Linsey Dawn?” Amanda Holden interrupted, wrinkling

her nose. “You signed up Linsey Dawn McKenzie?”

“A sop to the soft-porn crowd,” Cindy explained. “We

did think about getting some Page 3 girls, but…”

“Why not?” Michelle Heaton suggested. “Leilani

Dowding, Nicola McLean, Nikkala Stott… the tabloids

would love you for it.”

“Speaking of which, what are you going to do about the

3AMs?” Gwyneth asked.

“Sit here and think for a bit,” Cindy replied. “I

really don’t want them around here every time I come

over…”

* * * * * * * * * *

Gwyneth sympathised as she settled in the back of her

car. Having those harpies on your back all day was no

way to live.

Having the entire back of a stretch limo was another

matter. She needed the space; she’d taken Sophie

Anderton in this car earlier (she privately dubbed it

the Shagmobile, though she wasn’t about to let Chris

in it). The windows were thick, which was just as

well; Sophie was a screamer.

“Still have a problem with us, Miss Paltrow?” asked

the driver cheerily.

“AAARRRRGGGHHH!!!” Gwyneth screamed with part-disgust.

“What is it with that? I thought everyone here had

forgotten by now!”

“We don’t forget these things, Miss Paltrow,” the

driver said. “I know you didn’t actually say it,

but…”

“How long is it until we get there?” Gwyneth asked,

looking at the traffic outside. It wasn’t the rush

hour yet, but it was fairly heavy.

“It’ll be a while. Command performance, is it?”

“Yep. Not looking forward to it,” she admitted. “The

guy’s not really my type, but the customer’s always

right.”

“You know, Miss Paltrow…”

“Mm?”

“Nothing,” the driver said, hating himself for not

being able to ask if he could have her services

afterwards, at the same price. “Nothing…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“…and here’s our waitress for the evening,” said

Lord Dunstable to his family. Entering in a

traditional maid’s uniform, only much shorter, Gwyneth

Paltrow looked over at the crowd.

They were all very rich, and very uppercrust. The head

of the family, the Lord in question, was in his

mid-70s and looked it; the youngest person there was

still ten years older than she was. Gwyneth’s job was

to serve each person there, and give them an aperitif

of herself.

“Ah, a quiet type are you? That’s the trouble with

these damned Yanks, too bloody impressed with the

upper classes to get all brash and loudmouthed. Still,

better than the alternative eh?” he laughed.

Gwyneth curtseyed, and brought each guest their trays,

receiving compliments from a quiet “Thank you” to the

odd pinch and slap (“Not much meat on those bones, is

there? Still, it’s quality”). She felt just about

every guest put his (and they were all men) hand up

her dress, lingering on her long thighs and tight

little ass.

“Gwynnie!” called Lord Dunstable when they were all

served. “It’s time for you to give out the first

course.”

Nodding, Gwyneth approached the head, and then noticed

he had his other head out. He had unzipped his

trousers, and was casually waving his cock for her to

see. Gwyneth studied it – tiny thing, but she knew

better than not to comment.

“And when you’re done with that, the others get theirs

as well. Whatever they want…”

Lord Dunstable’s oldest son, who was sitting next to

him, rubbed Gwyneth’s bottom again. La Paltrow

mentally prepared herself to receive a visitor through

the back door, and bent down to fellate his father.

She felt his wee prick become as stiff and hard as it

probably ever would; she did her best to make it seem

like she was having a good time.

He certainly was: “Good heavens, you’ve got a good

mouth on you Gwyneth… ummmm, yes, excellent tongue

action… I can’t believe someone who sucks cock so

well can’t find a man… don’t just sit there, son,

give that cock of yours a home.”

Gwyneth’s eyes widened as Lord Dunstable’s son exposed

her rump to the onlookers, spread it, and splotched

something onto the starfish. “Ketchup… ” Lord

Dunstable explained between sighs as the beautiful

American blonde kept tasting his prick. “Can’t stand

to spit on a woman’s anus or anywhere… necessity’s

the mother of invention… but you have to serve the

audience… make them all happy…”

The son soon had Gwyneth’s bunghole lubed up with

Heinz’s best known product, and that was when Gwyneth

had her idea. She knew Cindy would love it; and it

would make up for the uncommon, obscene haste with

which the son jammed his cock into her chute. She felt

the sauce squishing around down there, and his cock

slipping up her rapidly. Gwyneth kept on sucking as he

cored her, listening to his grunts of satisfaction;

she had a small bottom, but it was cute and nice to

touch, and a thin slice of the best steak could be

better than a Big Mac. (And often was.)

Under Gwyneth’s seemingly cold exterior lay the heart

of a woman who loved almost anything to do with sex;

exhibitionism, troilism, bondage, you name it she was

up for it. When she felt a second prick go next to the

first in her anus she jumped for joy within – and

when, on completing the blowjob, she looked up to see

two other diners with their cocks aimed at her face,

Gwyneth Paltrow started to spend a lot more than seven

minutes in heaven…

* * * * * * * * * *

“Everybody present and accounted for?” asked Cindy an

hour or two later. “Gwynnie here told me about this

idea she got while she was at the mercy of Lord

Dunstable, and it’s not a bad one.”

“You’ve probably received one or two mercy fucks in

your life,” Gwyneth started.

“YOU probably have,” Natalie Portman countered.

“Anyway,” Gwyneth continued, ignoring Miss Portman, “I

was thinking we take the thinking and put a twist on

it. Those men giving it to us think we’re charity

cases, so…”

Blank faces at first, then it hit Nicole Kidman first.

“You want us to do it for… charity?”

“All the proceeds for the first 24 hours, anyway,”

Cindy added. “We all work our butts off – and the

first guys we each get have us for free – and hand it

over to something like… Children in Need?”

“Which is where the S Club ladies come in,” Gwyneth

went on. “The rumours about that video of me, Nicky

and the boss in action for Rande’s birthday were so

strong that when Rachel and the other three were over

last time we had to show it to them in return for them

agreeing to come on board – Tina was really

insistent.”

“What about the guys?” Cameron Diaz, whose flight HAD

come, asked. Every other person in the room looked at

her with an “Oh, please” expression on their faces.

Cammie got the message.

“The group’s always working for CIN,” Cindy went on,

“and they’ll go for this in a second.”

“Suppose they say no?” Lisa Snowdon asked.

“It’ll be legally earned cash,” Gwyneth assured them.

“And there’s another little plus…”

The 3 AM girls had demanded an answer from Cindy just

before this meeting; Cindy had told them what the deal

was, and assured them that this was an exclusive

story.

“Just for the three of you,” she had added. “And it’ll

REMAIN an exclusive scoop. Even the American gossip

queens won’t have it.”

This jacked up the women’s egos even further.

“However…”

(Nothing good came after ‘However,’ the women had

learned.)

“…there IS one catch. We’ve got some reporters on

board the US branch from E! and “Entertainment

Tonight” and so on, and those ladies of theirs we do

have are on board with the understanding that they

can’t report on anything that goes on behind the

scenes or in the bedrooms at Cindy Inc. Ever.

“See, I know your type – if you three girls join

you’ll be trying to get the dirt all the time. Jules –

that’s Jules Asner – knows the score and she plays

fair, but I’m not sure you do. But we know we have to

keep the columnists sweet, so this is the deal… if

you join us, you can’t report. If you report, you

can’t join us. It’s one or the other.”

“But we were supposed to get the cover of ‘Vanity

Fair’!” the blonde 3AM Girl had complained. “And the

Yanks went behind our backs…”

“Yes, I can’t believed they decided Kirsten Dunst

would sell more copies than three showbiz hacks,”

Cindy had told them with enough sarcasm to sink the

QE2. “Besides, if you did come on board all the other

women would quit… so what do you say?”

“The deal’s still open. But I’m sure ‘The Sun’ would

love to hear about your tactics… and I’m sure Mr.

Morgan and his bosses would love it if Murdoch’s paper

got it first.”

Ten minutes later, the 3AM Girls left with fleas in

their ears, a guaranteed exclusive for the first

night, and the knowledge that they would NEVER work

for Cindy Inc.

* * * * * * * * * *

Natalie Portman had the run of the suite while the

others were shopping, giving interviews or otherwise

taking a break from the grind. She was doing what came

naturally; she was flicking through the channels

trying to find something to watch. Finding nothing

worth watching except some stuff on VH-1, she had left

it there, and now she only had muted music videos for

company.

Natalie studied the remote control. She let the

thought come to her mind for a moment, then decided

why not. With not a sound in the room, she fondled

herself with the remote, letting the fingers play with

the buttons as the small device hovered above her

crotch.

“Call yourself a dirty girl, Christina?” Natalie

murmured at the screen, as the jailbird strutted her

silent stuff. “How about getting this on screen?”

With her trousers zipped open, Natalie ran the remote

over her panty-covered crotch, then gently pushed it

under the fabric. It danced over the dark fuzz of her

pussy. “Hey BBC – I really DO make this what it is,”

she said softly, prodding the unit against her quim as

the screen changed from Christina to David Sneddon.

Fortunately, Natalie didn’t know reality-pop winners

from Adam as she carefully slipped the remote inside

her, and started to twirl it.

“It’s not TV. It’s not even HBO,” she whispered, as

she fitted the remote further up her. Oooooh… she

had constantly felt screwed by television, but this

was a whole new feeling. The remote control squirmed

around, tingling her box and causing her to smile. You

had to take it where you could get it…

Natalie removed the remote, turned it so the business

end faced the TV, and opened herself up as far as she

could. In went the remote, Natalie gasping and

grunting as it entered… she clamped down on the

remote and aimed at the set. Tensing her pussy

muscles, she twitched herself.

The set clicked to the next channel.

“YES!!!” Natalie chuckled. “In your faces, Reese

Witherspoon and Heather Graham!” They might be able to

flip coins with their cunts, she thought, but could

they change channels? Too bad Reese was on J-Lo’s team

and off limits, but the next time she and Heather were

on duty at Cindy’s… thoughts of showing off to Miss

Graham were interrupted by the phone ringing. Grateful

for an excuse to not look at “The Nanny” on Living,

Natalie let the remote go and bottomless ran to the

phone.

“Hello?”

“That’s quite a party piece you have there, Miss

Portman.”

Natalie immediately threw the phone down and zipped up

her trousers. The bastard WAS in London. He HAD

followed her here… and he knew where she was. She

was very, very close to screaming.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Arpad…”

“No.”

Things had never been so frosty between Elle and her

partner. Arpad did love her, but this whole celeb

prostitute business was driving a wall between them.

“Do you really think I’m going to run off with someone

one day?” Elle asked as they faced each other in their

house.

Arpad shook his head. “No, I just… I just don’t like

seeing you having sex with other men.”

“You should have said something when I first joined,”

Elle told him.

“I thought I could take it… it turns out I

couldn’t.”

Elle thought for a moment. At least he hadn’t gone and

put it about with another woman, and was telling her

straight out. “All right. Of course, you could come

over this evening – relatives are always on the

house…”

“You want to bribe me to let you stay?”

“You can’t MAKE me quit, Arpad. Whatever I decide,

it’ll be my decision.”

Arpad nodded. Whatever she decided to do, it would be

her decision.

“But remember, I wasn’t the one who boned Holly

Valance five times,” Elle added, hitting him where it

hurt.

* * * * * * * * * *

Cindy Crawford had a number of set rules in this

business; one was, she never did it the day she was

holding a special event. The day before, yes, but

never on the day. She said that it helped to save the

energy for the actual time. Especially now that most

of the women were gathered and the place was almost

ready for opening.

All the women had been told of the procedure, and they

had all been enthusiastic about doing it for charity;

the only problem was that the people they would be

doing it for were for the most part too young to

understand (or so they hoped). But it was all for a

good cause. Now, as Cindy got back to the suite after

making sure all was ready, she had time for a nap.

Entering her bedroom, she thought she could use one.

She forgot all about sleeping when she saw what was

happening. A young man was lying on her bed, tossing

and turning – not because he was asleep, but because

of the young woman on top of him. Cindy kept silent,

watching the woman grinding up and down, her blonde

hair whipping back and forth, plump buttocks on his

crotch, his hands grabbing her as she rode him. She

was having too much fun to notice any audience, and he

was shouting so loudly he wouldn’t have heard anyone.

“WHOOOO!!!” the young woman howled, rising and

slamming herself down. “GIVE IT TO ME, NICK!”

Nick did his best, forcing himself deep into her hot

dark snatch (the girl was not a natural blonde). In

truth, he didn’t have to try too hard – masturbating

to her every week was so great it was a warmup for the

real thing. She bent forward, giving him a shot at her

bouncy chest, and Cindy glanced at the mirror on the

side – it would give her an idea of who the girl was.

Cindy came thisclose to shouting when she saw the

profile. The snub nose, the pout, the pale face… but

then she backed out quietly. She’d give them time to

finish before asking Elisha Cuthbert what she was

doing fucking in London when she was supposed to be

fucked in New York…

* * * * * * * * * *

Elisha strolled out of Cindy’s room buck naked half an

hour later, blowing a still exhausted Nick a kiss.

“Just give me a few moments to do the drinks and then

I’ll be ready for the night…” Elisha fell silent

when she saw the boss sitting there.

“Oh fuck… sorry Cindy… it’s just that the guy who

let me in was a hottie, and… I was in Customs for

hours and you know, opportunity knocks once and…”

“I thought you were in New York,” Cindy told the once

and forever Kim Bauer calmly. “You called and told me

your flight had been delayed – ”

“I never called you!”

“Oh, please,” Cindy retorted. “You called from

LaGuardia…”

“Did you actually SPEAK to me?” asked the diminutive

blonde.

“No,” Cindy admitted. “Gwyneth took the call.”

“Then maybe we need to talk to Gwynnie.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Along with most of the other women, Gwyneth was in

Leicester Square preparing for the big night. Each one

had her own room, and Gwyneth was flicking through a

“Heat” looking for stuff about herself when her phone

rang. Flinging aside the travails of “EastEnders”

stars and relieved that none of them were on board, La

Paltrow took it on the first ring.

“Hello?… Who is this?”

“It’s Elisha Cuthbert.”

“No it isn’t – I talked to her earlier and you’re not

her.”

“That WAS her,” Cindy said, taking the phone from

Elisha. “Don’t you ever watch ’24’?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Gwyneth replied, before

realising what had happened… she’d been tricked. She

kicked herself for not paying more attention to her

workmates’s careers. Just because she was in

television… “So who was it who called me then?”

“Someone who’s been keeping a real close eye on us,”

Cindy said coldly.

* * * * * * * * * *

He looked at his ticket. All paid up, he had been one

of many who had tried to get advance booking for the

big night. Unlike many of the others, he had been

successful. And tonight, he was finally going to get

to Natalie.

“I can’t thank you folks enough,” he told his

benefactors.

“That’s okay. You helped us, we help you. And relax,

your secret’s safe with us,” said the blonde 3AM Girl.

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END