Porn-Fed Steele - Part Four
Date: Saturday, February 17, 2001

Lauryn Poynor <lpoynor@zebra.net>

Porn-Fed Steele

Part Four - 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


Laura slid the heavy door back with ease. "Good evening, Mr.
Steele, won't you come in?"

Steele would have stepped over the threshold and greeted Laura properly, but instead staggered back two steps when he saw what Laura was wearing.

Laura laughed at his reaction and pulled him in. "I couldn't
find everything exactly the same, because I never wanted to see that outfit again. I think I tried to burn it. But since you mentioned it the other night..." She deliberately brushed very close past him and shut the door.

Steele's words stuck in his throat as he stared. Without a doubt this was very similar to, if not the very same outfit that stopped traffic in the hotel lobby of the dental convention.

Laura strolled to the kitchen as casually as the high-heeled
boots would allow and bent over to check the oven, temporarily putting her out of Steele's line of sight. Finally gathering his wits, he hustled over to the kitchen island for another look. Just before she straightened he caught a fleeting glimpse of her garter clips.

Laura smiled to herself at the sound of his scurrying footsteps as she opened the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of wine. She leaned over the island much farther then she needed to and put it in front of him.

"Would you open that, please?"

Steele pried his eyes away from the view of Laura's cleavage and reached for the bottle. He cleared his throat forcefully. "Certainly," he croaked.

Laura made more trips back and forth to the table then were
necessary, putting as much sashay in her step as she dared. When everything was ready she offered to take his coat and tie, then guided him to a seat.

Laura tried to tone things down a bit and give Steele a break, as it were. She steered the conversation towards inconsequential small talk, but Steele said little and ate even less.

Forcing himself to look at his plate and not at the delectable Laura, Steele gradually regained some of his composure. He would have been entirely successful if one little question would not continue to run through his head - was Laura wearing any underwear?

After dinner Laura suggested a movie. She handed him two black plastic cassette cases.

"You pick."

Uncertain whether to be alarmed or elated, considering the way the evening had started, Steele opened one of the cases and glanced at the title.

"'Hunga Din'?" he asked incredulously.

Laura giggled in spite of herself. "Look at the other one."

With increasing trepidation, he opened it. "'Dial N for
Nookie'? Good Lord, these titles!"

"I'm afraid that might be the most creative part of the movie." She settled next to him on the couch, moving in very close. "I thought we'd give the, umm, adult movie industry another chance, since circumstances are different now." She kissed him deeply. "The woman at the Bird Cage was very helpful. She thought these would be better than average."

"The Bird Cage? What on earth is that?" His expression changed with the shock of answering his own question. "Is that where you were all afternoon? I wondered why on earth you would disappear and not tell Mildred where you were."

Laura grinned. "Now take it easy, Mr. Steele. I had several
errands to run, and Fred took me there and he stayed right
outside. It was the middle of the afternoon! It's not very far from the office, by the way. It's on the way to Valentino's."

Still uncertain whether to be relieved that Laura had not
ventured back to Hot Hips Holly's neighborhood, or further
aroused at her selection of movie material, Steele backed away a notch.

"I imagine that was a unique experience for you."

"I'll say." Laura closed the gap again. "It's not exactly a
20/20 video store, you see. There's a table in the back with all these three-ring binders with just the video jackets. Then to rent them you have to show your driver's license, and sign in their book. Naturally they don't give out those little plastic cards. Now they've got my name and address and everything. No fingerprints or frisking, but I've been very thoroughly checked out."

"Indeed you have, Miss Holt. Indeed you have."

Laura pressed herself against him, sliding her arms around his neck. Steele realized that once again a risky venture had been a substantial turn-on for Laura. Locked in their embrace, Steele's mind drifted back to Pitkins, champagne and the Bordeaux Triptych. Laura did not have a great deal of experience coping with the adrenaline rush that came with successful grand larceny, and she had directed all her pent-up hormones at him. How many times since that night had he chided himself for being so focused on the Triptych that he had practically pushed away the supercharged Laura, realizing almost too late the opportunity that was literally dropped in his lap? An opportunity that went unachieved with the untimely return of that poor nebbish Richie. Fortunately, he realized, tonight, Laura's state of arousal would not be dampened by anyone, or anything.

"I'm ready when you are," Laura whispered.

"Roll tape," he muttered, trying to get a grip on her leather covered posterior as Laura moved to the television.

The strung together plot concerning over-endowed female appliance technicians who serviced more than dishwashers and dryers left much to be desired in motive, production values and dialogue, Steele thought. But the action was certainly as advertised.

He mused briefly on how different circumstances were tonight. He no longer had to concern himself with hiding his desire for Laura, nor the effect she was having on him. It would not be necessary to excuse himself in order to find some way to relieve his incredible discomfort. Now, Laura would be more than happy to join him in ecstatic release. What a difference one night made.

His arm was draped casually around her shoulder as she curled up next to him, but he made no move to touch her otherwise. He let the video do the work as the assortment of sexual acts and positions moved on.

Laura tried to lay still, her hand resting idly on his knee.
Privately, she was very pleased with herself and the results of her extended shopping trip. It had not been easy putting this slutty outfit back together, but the look on Remington's face when she opened the door had made all of her effort worthwhile.

She forced herself to not go where she really wanted to go,
hoping that the movie would have the same effect on him that it had on her.

After another five minutes Laura gave up the unspoken battle of wills. Without warning she turned to him as her hand slid up his leg to his zipper. Steele jumped in surprise.

"Hmmm," Laura purred. "A hard man is good to find." She kissed him hard, her tongue making a quick dart over his.

Remington groaned, halfway between ecstasy at her touch and
disgust over such a trite line. Laura interpreted it as the
former and assaulted his shirt buttons. After they were disposed of she moved a hand back to his crotch and pressed firmly with the heel of her hand.

Steele's hands moved to her breasts, gently running his thumbs over her nipples. He reached around to find the garter belt clips, and was delighted to confirm his suspicion that Laura wasn't wearing underwear of any kind.

Laura was about to attack his belt when a loud shift in the
schlocky jazz background music drew her attention back to the screen. She saw a female plumber with her head under the sink, her shapely rear end barely covered by cut off shorts. She was being admired by a silent but horny homeowner. The woman stood up from her work, her cut off T shirt barely covering her ample breasts.

Laura was on her feet, rocket-propelled in surprise. "Jolene!"

Instantly realizing what she had done, Laura belatedly clapped her hand over her mouth and flopped back onto the couch. She sat stunned for a split second, then realizing that there was someone else in the audience, grabbed the remote and stopped the video. She stared at the blank television screen, trying to calculate the odds of how out of all the x-rated videos available to rent, she had managed to find one featuring Jolene.

Several minutes passed in heavy silence. Remington tried to
recall what had transpired on screen and off in a futile attempt to determine what had launched Laura off the couch. They had been moving down the erotic garden path rather nicely, in his opinion, so he could only surmise that something in the video had disturbed her. Between Laura and the movie, however, it took some time for him to remember what was playing on the screen. With effort he recalled that Laura had spoken someone's name. Now he was sure that was what he had heard.

Laura stared straight ahead, wishing with all her might that she could take back one word. She had scanned the video jackets but hadn't seen her name. How could she possibly know that Jolene had worked under another name for another producer?

She felt the burden of Steele's unavoidable questions pressing down on her. When he moved next to her she mentally cringed.

"What was that all about, Laura?"

Laura waged a mental battle with herself. Come clean about her work in Simi Valley for Jolene, or bluff her way clear? A well-constructed deception might do it, but Laura lacked the time and intellectual agility for that right now. Besides, as she had reminded herself in the theater, he would see right through it.

So the truth would have to be it. But how would he react?
Shocked and scandalized? That response might be to her
advantage, adding to her own mysterious past that she
subconsciously tried to balance out with his.

But Laura immediately dismissed that possibility. Any tale she had ever used to knock him off balance had been merely
transformed into ammunition for his perpetual assault on her
sexual defenses. A specific artistic rendition on a certain
table in a particular bar in a popular resort town in Mexico was at the top of the list.

In addition, Laura had a feeling that anything she told him would fall on deaf ears, once she started pacing the floor as she inevitably did when she was in the midst of any explanation. This evening her manner of dress did not lend an air of professional credibility.

She glanced at him furtively, confirming her suspicions that he had never taken his eyes off of her once she had sat down again.

"Laura, I don't think it was my imagination that I just heard you say someone's name."

Laura heaved a sigh and took the plunge. "I know someone in that video," she admitted.

"Really?" The expression on his face was unfathomable. Was he skeptical? Aroused? Curious?

He aimed the remote at the VCR and started the video again. Not sure what kind of name of he had heard, he asked, "The man or the woman?"

"The woman. That's Jolene, a friend of mine from Stanford. I
had no idea she was also known professionally as Connie Lingus." Laura poured out the whole story. As she talked any anxiety about his reaction disappeared.

Remington's gaze moved back and forth between Laura and Jolene as he listened silently, absorbing this tantalizing portion of Laura's past. Although on one level it aroused him to think of Laura mingled with all those writhing bodies, on the other it perplexed him that she could describe the entire case so clinically and dispassionately.

"So that's how you could speak with such authority on the
proportions of male anatomy." He put his arm around her waist. "And all of this, umm, cinematic fervor didn't tempt you to participate?"

"Honestly, after the second or third day it got very
repetitious. Like watching 'Hot Hips Holly' three times in a
row. And I had a case to solve." She sat back and pulled him
with her. "Besides, at that time I didn't have anyone to rewrite my fantasies with."

Remington pushed her on her back and covered her body with his. A loud moan brought their attention back to the screen.

By this time, Jolene was on her knees in front of the homeowner, slurping enthusiastically.

Remington looked back at Laura, his eyes twinkling. "A plumber's skills are not to be taken lightly. Many years of hands-on study to become proficient."

Laura slid his unbuttoned shirt off. "And years of continuous practice under a master." Her hand went between them to his zipper.

Remington levered himself up on one elbow and with her help
peeled off the skin tight blouse. He bent to touch his tongue to one hardened nipple, and then the other.

Laura moaned, her back arching her body toward him. She fumbled with his belt. "The right tools and technique are essential, Mr. Steele. The pipe has to be precisely the right size." She popped the button.

"Precisely." He slid one hand up her stockinged thigh and under her skirt.

"In length and width." Laura reached inside, cradling his silky hardness in her hand.

"Not an inch shy," he moaned.

"The proper coupling is crucial." She freed him from his
trousers and boxers.

"Best to turn it on gradually and let it build to release." He pushed her skirt up to her waist and slid his hand under the garter belt.

"Find the correct pressure, then release," she murmured, her
knees falling apart.

Steele positioned himself, holding back just a moment.

"Ready when you are, Miss Holt."

"Ready, Mr. Steele. As Jolene would say, laissez les bon temps rouler. Let the good times roll."

THE END

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