Porn-Fed Steele Part Two
Date: Thursday, February 15, 2001
Lauryn Poynor <>

Porn-Fed Steele

Part Two - Rated NC-17

By Lauryn Andrea Poynor and Anne "Andrea" Rose

Thanks go out to Linda Bonnell for beta reading and advice

All feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Permission to archive granted

Steele's query was interrupted by the man in the filthy raincoat. "Hey, Siskel and Ebert. Could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to hear the dialogue."

"What dialogue?" Laura rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Oh, great Caesar, your sceptre is showing? Or the 'oohs, aahs, and oh my God's?'"

"It's not exactly "Spartacus," is it?" Steele sniffed.

The owlish man turned around in his seat. '"Spartacus." Now that was a classic. You won't see its like today. Besides Stanley Kubrick's all washed up. It's no secret. 'The Shining.' Bah! Millions of dollars thrown at the screen and you get nothing but a bunch of cheap scares and setups.
The beginning of the end of the horror film. Just look what it's left us with. 'Friday the Thirteenth: the Final Chapter.' If it only was. I'm sure they're working on the next chapter as we speak."

"But you can hardly blame Stanley Kubrick-" Steele began.

"If you strike up a conversation with that perv in a raincoat, I'm leaving."

"But, Laura, he said-"

"I mean it, Mr. Steele."


Glaring, Laura fished around on the floor for her shoes.

"Laura, calm down, OK?" Steele entreated her. "Just sit back and enjoy the- um, well, never mind. I must say this place attracts a diverse clientele."

Laura sat stiffly next to him, suddenly unsettled. Steele started to put an arm around her shoulder but her body language warned him off. He slumped sulkily, watching the screen. Although, like most men, he would take it any way he could get it - for stimulation, porn movies had never
ranked that highly on his list. As for that list, there was no question in his mind as to what, or whom was at the top of it. Steele glanced over at Laura, who was staring straight ahead, arms crossed over her chest.

On screen, the hard working Holly was orally pleasuring one orgy-goer while she straddled another. Her long, chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders. As Steele's idle imagination began to respond, he began to picture a quite
different woman taking pleasure in pleasure. With her similar colouring, Holly did remind him of Laura. True, that was only if you subtracted several ounces of silicone, several layers of mascara, and several layers of clothing, but the fantasy was beginning to have an effect on him - one
that he was finding difficult to conceal.

He could feel his erection pressing tightly against the seam of his trousers. It seemed to be quite large, more so than usual, and Steele's being so close to Laura, the object of his desire, was causing it to throb almost painfully.

He thought of putting his jacket across his lap but that seemed like such a dead giveaway and in any case he couldn't think of an excuse for doing so. Thankful, at least, for the near darkness, he closed his eyes and tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. Anywhere but on the screen or on the woman at his side whom he was longing to touch.

The idea flashed into his head that maybe Laura was being affected as well but one quick glance at her rigid posture made him doubtful. Was she actually watching the screen? Finding it stimulating? Or a complete turnoff? She seemed quite casual about it on the surface. He never was sure what wavelength she was on, even though he had convinced himself he knew her like no one else.

His thoughts wandered back to the Charlotte Knight case and the hours they had spent listening to the heavy breathing antics in "Prone Positions." At first, he had tried to stop the tapes, to shield her from the story's overheated prose but Laura had let him know that she was by no means a
virginal heroine in need of rescue. In fact, she had once carried off a casual seduction of a teacher using only her charm and a pair of glasses.

He remembered how intrigued he'd been by her revelation. He hadn't expected her to be so honest with him, so teasing, yet direct, sexually. He found the most carnal thoughts were creeping into his mind. As the evening progressed and each succeeding cassette of the steamy novel was loaded into the machine, the air grew so thick with tension and longing
until he thought surely the two of them would either give in or combust.

He'd never touched her that night though he had ached to do so, and he knew she felt the same. Now he found himself short of breath as he recalled the sight of her lying stretched out, relaxed and drowsy, on the floor of his
apartment, seemingly unaware that he was watching her. And not simply watching, but filing away every bit of her in his memory. Imagining the smooth contours of her skin laid bare. Wishing he could use his hands, his mouth - all of his senses, to explore her, unresisting, at will.

He opened his eyes, letting out a slow, shuddering sigh that he hoped Laura couldn't hear over the movie soundtrack. He was better off watching the action on screen. His unfettered imagination was only torturing him further.

"Teach me, O Great Caesar, the many ways of love." Holly breathed seductively on the sleeve of a fortyish man in a purple tunic. Visions of Laura and the Calc professor hummed in Steele's over-stimulated brain. Only this time, he had replaced the Calc professor and Laura was his own star pupil - and she was ever so slowly removing his glasses.

This was not working. He had to think of something to get his mind off of getting off. What usually worked? Film annotations were good for concentration. His thoughts raced. "Teacher's Pet." Clark Gable, Doris Day, Gig Young, Paramount, 1958. Suddenly he had a bizarre flash of Marlene Dietrich greeting Emil Jannings in "The Blue Angel." "Breakfast, Herr Professor?"

Dietrich was perfect. Long career. Lots of obscure German language films. Unfortunately, at the moment, he couldn't remember any of them. Well, who counted those anyway? "The Blue Angel" was where it all started, really. "Der Blaue Engel." Emil Jannings, Marlene Dietrich, UFA, 1930. God, what was next? "Morocco." Gary Cooper, Adolphe Menjou, Paramount, 1930. "Dishonored." Victor McLaglen, Warner Oland, Paramount, 1931. "Shanghai Express." Clive Brook, Anna May Wong, Paramount, 1932...

He'd gotten all of the way up to "Destry Rides Again" when it happened. Her hand on his thigh. Millimeters away. He jumped as if she had burned him.

"Mr. Steele? Could you save these Kisses for me? I'm afraid if I don't give them up, they'll all be gone soon." Her fingers brushed him lightly on his inner thigh as she deposited the bag of candy in his lap.

Steele sucked in a breath but it didn't seem to reach his lungs. He had to get some air. "Love to, Laura. I'll hold on to them when I get back. I was just going to get some ice. Would you care for some?"

"No. I'm fine really. Just a little high on chocolate."

What did that mean? How high? Steele thought distractedly. With exaggerated casualness he handed her back the bag. He rose carefully from his seat, cup in hand, then started down the aisle without a backward glance.


Stepping out into the brightly lit lobby, Steele pulled off his jacket and draped it over his arm. Holding the jacket close to the front of his body, he surveyed the territory. No one was at the snack bar and the attendant was leaning against a wall reading the sports page.

Steele's skin felt flushed and his pulse was racing. Icy calm, mate, he told himself. Deep breaths. He went into the men's room and leaned against the sink. What on earth had he been thinking? A porn theater? He must have been daft to come here with Laura.

He'd been so worried about getting her somewhere safe, that out of habit he'd fallen back on old tricks. It was one thing to use those survival skills on his own, but the rule book wasn't made for two - and it hadn't included a chapter on dangerously beautiful female companions.

Steele turned on the faucet and splashed water into his cup. He drank down half of the icy liquid and poured the rest over his face. It was no good. His groin felt as if it were being roasted over a slow fire. He supposed he could go in the stall, unzip, and take himself in hand. He wondered how
else he was going to get through the evening.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them. He struggled back into his jacket, staring at his image in the bathroom mirror. Was he really that bloody desperate? Good Lord. He looked an absolute wreck. Steele rubbed his temples, feeling a dull headache forming behind his left

Suddenly the door opened and he started guiltily. Nerves on edge, he thrust his hands into his pockets. Roxanne stood in the doorway with a roll of tissue. Steele swallowed hard and tried to find his voice. He cleared his throat, covering his embarrassment with a tone of righteous indignation. "Isn't it customary to knock?"

"I did." She spoke in the tone of an exasperated mother humoring a small, not especially bright child. "I just needed to put this in here. Are you done, or do you want me to come back?"

"No, no, not at all. I was just leaving," Steele replied, hastily drying his face and hands with a paper towel. He could feel her eyes on him, looking him sharply up and down. Heart dully thumping, he squeezed past her with infinite care to the freedom of the door. He walked warily through the lobby but no one took notice of him. Reaching the exit, he stepped outside, grateful for the shock of the cold air on his skin.


A faint smile crossed Laura's lips as she watched Steele retreat back up the aisle. She was well aware of the reason for his sudden departure. While he had been watching the movie, she had been watching him, noticing his rapt expression and slightly ragged breathing as he stared at the
parade of flesh on the screen. She could feel his warmth against her in their close confines, and guessed, from those cues and from the subtle shifting of his body, at his state of arousal. His overreaction at the merest brush of her fingers practically confirmed it.

She wondered if he was thinking of her as he watched the women on screen. She didn't have the attributes of the average porn star but at least she was real and not enhanced with silicone. She watched dark haired Maximus intimately entwined, grasping Venus by the hips and thrusting into her as she leaned over the back of a silk covered couch.

Actually, he did look a bit like Mr. Steele. His features were somewhat coarser, his body stockier, and he was several inches shorter in height, but he seemed to have the inches where it counted. She pondered Steele's off hand remark about the man being "several inches shy." If he truly was,
then how well endowed was Mr. Steele? That was the question. The one that had been buried in the back of her mind ever since he'd offered her that magnum of champagne. He wasn't the only one aroused with curiosity.

Laura reflected that since they had met they'd done nothing but torture themselves with unanswered questions. What would he or she be like - once the clothes and inhibitions had been removed? A well matched pair in every way? Perfect for each other? How would they ever get to the point of testing that sexual intuition of theirs? They had become friends and
partners and sometimes adversaries, but desire had always been the one constant of their universe.

Her thoughts drifted to past cases where the temptation of mixing business with pleasure had become almost irresistible. That day, handcuffed together in the hayloft in Ireland they had come so very close. Steele had forgotten he was Steele and it was a chance to start fresh, to be able to let go of his past and hers and happily surrender to the moment. He'd lowered her down to the hay, his lips seeking hers. Remembering the handcuffs, she smiled, wondering how they would have managed it if Xanadu and that watch hadn't interrupted them.

As the moans and groans issued forth from the overhead speakers, Laura was reminded of the Charlotte Knight case and the novel "Prone Positions." She'd certainly seen her share of positions on screen tonight. The book was fairly tame stuff by porn movie standards but it had been enough to
drive Laura crazy with unrequited lust.

It had started innocently enough at first. They had pushed play on the recorder and listened to each increasingly climactic chapter. Steele had stopped the tape once or twice in the early going, wanting to protect her innocence, but she let him know it was nothing she couldn't handle. She
grinned deviously, remembering his reaction to her seduction of that Calc professor. She'd certainly gotten Steele's attention. Several times she'd caught him staring at her so erotically that when she met his gaze she had trouble breathing.

Late into the night, she awoke to find him lying asleep on the carpet, his lean body sprawled out full length, nearly touching hers. She sat up and watched him breathing deeply and evenly, lips slightly parted, his hands resting on his chest. Every detail was committed to memory. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and dark blue pleated trousers. He wore no tie and his shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the dark, curling hair of his chest.

Here was a chance to study him as closely as she liked, without hindrance or distractions. She longed to pull that crisp, ironed shirt from his trousers and unbutton it, revealing him slowly and deliberately, savoring each moment of discovery. Next, she would remove his belt and deftly work the button and zipper of his trousers free and slide them down his legs, along with his socks. His briefs would be next. Those she would remove quickly, impatient to indulge her avid curiosity about what lay beneath.

That night she had fantasized doing all of those things, freely and without consequence. To learn what his body was like - what it looked like and what it felt like under her fingers. She would have been happy with knowing just that, and nothing else.


Steele lightly touched her arm as he slid in beside her. "Any Kisses left?"

Lost in her thoughts, Laura was taken aback by his sudden appearance. "What?"

"I said are there any Kisses left?"

"All yours, Mr. Steele."

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"Not exactly."

"Longer than I care to remember, Miss Holt. I'm glad you enjoyed them. They're not Parlaits but it was the best I could do on short notice. I'll have to save your favourites for Christmas."

"It's the thought that counts, Mr. Steele."

"Indeed. You know, that reminds me. When that dirtbag in the Santa suit pointed that gun at my chest I thought my life would flash before my eyes - but I could only think of one thing."

"What was that?"

"I'd never get to see you naked."

Laura punched him on the arm.


"Don't you think you've seen enough naked women for one night?"

"There's always room for one more - if it's the right woman."

"Only in your dreams, Mr. Steele."

"How about a compromise? What about that little ensemble you wore to Donald's dentist's convention? That revealing top, snug in all the right places, that almost illegally short mini skirt, and those sleek black stockings and boots."

"If you think I'm going to strut around for you to drool over like that G-stringed bimbo up there, you're going to have a very long wait."

"Nonsense, Laura. Her walk is a crude invitation. Yours, a caress."

"Ha! Like I haven't heard that line before." Actually she hadn't and it wasn't bad. Sometimes he said the nicest things when she least expected them. She leaned in a fraction nearer and Steele shifted his body toward
her, hesitantly at first, then when she didn't object, putting his arm around her. Laura relaxed against him, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder.

"Hot Hips Holly" played out in an endless procession of flash and flesh until it began to seem more than a little rote. It was occasionally enlivened by a spirited menage a trois, or two, until the final showdown between Holly and Venus Envy, a wild finish in which both stripped down to
fighting trim, daring customers to double their pleasure, winner take on all. Steele and Laura both lost track of the body count until Holly was declared the victor by inches.

After the credits rolled, they sat through a snack commercial with a twist, involving several ears of corn and some hot, young lovelies. This one provoked Laura to uncontrolled laughter and even Steele couldn't help but
join her, despite the baleful glare from their erudite and humorless friend in the raincoat.

"I don't think I've ever seen corn popped quite that way before, Mr. Steele," Laura managed to gasp, between giggles.

"Nor are you likely to again," Steele remarked with a bemused smile.

"Thank heaven for that."

A preview of next week's offering,"Porn With the Wind" flashed on screen, announced as "the epic story of a scarlet woman who took on all of Sherman's army and whipped the Yankees like they'd never been whipped before."

"Mr. Steele, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at the Tarleton twins without blushing. And they weren't kidding about Big Sam. He certainly lives up to his name. It's true, it's true," Laura smirked, segueing giddily into quoting "Blazing Saddles" while Steele raised an amused eyebrow.

"That auction sequence at the ball in Atlanta was a bit over the top, Laura, I must say. All of the ladies wrapped up in the Stars and Bars, with nothing underneath. History may never recover. Neither did they, I suspect."

"Rhett Butler certainly got his money's worth."

"So did Ashley Wilkes."

"And he wasn't even in Atlanta at the time, Mr. Steele. Don't you hate it when they change the book?"

"Where was the wooden-headed Mr. Wilkes? Fighting nobly for The Cause?"

"And pining for love. Off somewhere with his unit."

"Quite right."

The "Porn with the Wind" trailer was followed by an even more bizarre one, "Clockwork Orgy" a tale of gangs of predatory females looking for ultra-sex rather than ultra-violence as they roamed the streets. Alexa and her
slutty cohorts, the appetizing Dim Sum and Georgina, were shown being caught and de-programmed from the pleasures of the flesh, and then, quickly falling back into their life of carnal crime.

"Alexa DeLarge certainly is, said Laura. "Sleeping on her stomach must be a challenge. And her twin brother Alex is pretty large himself, at least Georgina seemed to think so."
"So that's what Stanley Kubrick's been doing all this time." Steele smiled slyly. "And I thought he was hiding out in Hertfordshire. Always a bad sign when one parodies one's own work."

"This one's better," chimed in their raincoated friend.

"Laura, that man is beginning to worry me."

"You and me both."


The opening credits rolled again for "Hot Hips Holly" and Laura and Steele, already tired and frazzled by the events of the night, began to get weary as the film came round and round again in an endless loop. Steele, Laura noted with envy, was fast asleep by the third screening. She wondered how often he'd had to sleep in far more uncomfortable environments and gave thanks for both of them that they weren't in a doorway, on a park bench, or under a freeway with only a bit of cardboard for a blanket.

Despite their relative comfort, a chair wasn't a bed and Laura longed to stretch out and sink her face into her goosedown pillow. She had never found it easy to sleep through distractions and the pounding soundtrack and fervent moaning and groaning was giving her a slight headache.

The man in the raincoat had departed after the second showing and the theater was quite empty. Over the music, she could hear the regular rhythms of Steele's breathing as he sat slumped beside her. His neck was craned toward her at an uncomfortable angle and Laura took his head gently in her hands and placed it against her shoulder. He mumbled something she couldn't catch and then was quiet.

Some time later Laura realized she must have dozed off without knowing it. She awoke to find her head buried against Steele's right ribcage and her hand resting low on his hip. She pulled her hand away and tried to sit up,
rubbing her eyes and blinking hazily at the flickering light from the screen. When she moved Steele groaned softly in his sleep, feeling blindly for her until she snuggled close to him, resting her head against his arm.

Laura smelled the elusive masculine scent of his cologne, slightly mixed with sweat, as she took in air with deep, slow breaths, trying to encourage sleep. The way he smelled had always aroused her and she breathed in all of him once more as she leaned against his chest. She'd never been able to identify the undoubtedly expensive brand of cologne he used, though the scent of it in the air, combined with his own, always made her pulse race faster.

Steele was in shirtsleeves, having removed his jacket earlier and folded it over the outside arm of the loveseat. Laura's fingers brushed the smooth, soft cotton of his shirtfront as she rested beside him. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone and she reached out and stroked his chest hair lightly with the tips of her fingers. He stirred a little, shifting his hips upward and his body toward hers. Something between a moan and a sigh escaped his lips - then one word.

Had he just mumbled her name? It sounded like "Laura" although it could just as easily have been "lower." She smiled. Her gaze traveled downward, finally resting between his legs. Her breath stopped in her throat. The bulge in his trousers was unmistakable and Laura wondered what was sparking his desire. Was he thinking of some large-breasted, overly experienced blonde from his past? Or of her? Was she in his fantasies as often as he was in hers?

Laura lifted her head and glanced around the darkened theater. A quick look at her watch revealed the time was 3:00 in the morning. No one was there except the two of them. She rested her head back against his shoulder and sighed. Her fingers trailed slowly down the buttons of his
shirt coming to rest just above his belt. She closed her eyes, listening to the slightly arrhythmic thump of her heartbeat over the movie's disco soundtrack. Steele stirred, thrusting his hips slightly forward as her nervous fingers traced the edge of his belt loop.

Laura waited, frozen with indecision, as she pressed close to him. She wondered for the thousandth time what it would be like to strip him bare, slowly, to unbutton and unzip until there were no more barriers to her curiosity. She forced her gaze upward, trying to distract her thoughts.
Unfortunately the only option was watching Venus do to Maximus what she longed to do to Mr. Steele. She watched the twosome on the screen until she felt slightly dizzy.

What was happening on celluloid didn't really matter. She wanted Steele, her Mr. Steele, more than she had ever wanted anyone. Her hand moved lower, sliding lightly down the path of his zipper. Steele's eyes blinked open and he grunted in surprise. "Laura?"

Laura guiltily drew her hand away and tried to compose herself. Steele moaned and struggled to sit up. "Damn. Oh, my neck." He twisted his head around. "Laura, rub my neck, please." He fell back, leaning his head against her for support.

Laura complied, secretly relieved to move to more neutral territory. "Oh, that's good. That's wonderful," Steele mumbled, falling back to sleep. Laura concentrated on massaging his neck until her hands grew tired. She
stroked his hair and trailed her fingers along the slight stubble on his chin. She desperately wanted to do more, but she knew it wasn't the time or the place. She let out a breath, slowly releasing the tension. We never seem to get a break, do we, Mr. Steele?


Rough hands shook Laura awake. She strained to focus on the face that was swimming in her vision. Her fogged brain finally recognized the blonde from the snack bar.

"You and Donald have to vamoose. Sun's up. We gotta clean up in here before noon."

Laura slipped regretfully back into her shoes and stretched her aching limbs. She tapped Steele on the shoulder, gently at first, and then with more force until he started awake. "Oh, Laura." He blinked at her, bleary-eyed, for a long moment until he registered the sobering presence of Roxanne.

Steele yawned, then recovering his wits, looked up at her as she loomed over him. "'At such a height, 'twere death if a hard word from you fell on my heart.' Cyrano to Roxane. 'Cyrano de Bergerac.' Jos_ Ferrer, Mala Powers, United Artists, 1950."


"Never mind."

Laura grinned. "Look it up. It's a movie about a man with a very large, um-"

Steele smiled in delighted appreciation of the joke. He winked at Laura. He got up, stretched his body gratefully and offered her his arm. "Shall we, Miss Holt?"

"Gladly, Mr. Steele."

Steele slipped into his jacket as they stepped into the sunlight. As odd as it seemed to both of them, the movie house had been a safe haven, one they would leave behind for an uncertain future, neither knowing what would happen in the days ahead.
End Part 2
To Part 3