Mari’s Run
Mari combed her fingers through her disheveled blonde hair, trying to rake out some of the snarl. She glanced at the results in the rearview mirror as she approached the I-15 onramp, and it dawned on her that the silver Toyota behind her had followed her through the last four intersections. An icy chill slipped down her spine. “Dammit!” she cursed aloud, banging her hand on the steering wheel of her 2020 hardtop BMW Z4 roadster. “Fucking paparazzi parasite!”
She got on I-15 heading west out of town, then thought better of it. She floored the late model car, changing lanes several times until the little Rav 4, which she knew was being driven by Ben Alotti, a freelance scandal monger, was lost behind her. She backed off the accelerator and started reading road signs. “Hey, BMW,” she called out to the brain of the car, “Help me get out of town, avoiding I-15.”
“I’ll help you leave via secondary roads,” a female voice announced. “In half a mile, take Exit 33, Nevada Highway 160, Blue Diamond Road.” The woman’s calm voice drew a sigh of relief from Mari’s lips. She knew it was just a machine talking back, but the reassuring tone suggested that someone was finally telling her what needed to be done to get her to safety. She scanned the road signs up ahead and rolled the wheel to the right, gliding smoothly onto the off-ramp.
She merged onto Blue Diamond Road and glanced back for any sign of the Toyota. After a brief scare from a glint of silver, she realized she’d lost the car and the slimy hack driving it. “All those little SUVs look the same anymore,” she muttered. She glanced down at the route displayed on her dashboard screen and contemplated her next move. She spoke aloud to it, as if a woman named Polly were somewhere on the path displayed on its screen.
“I’m sorry, Polly, I know you said come straight there, but I had to lose that asshole.” She thought a moment, then asked the car, “Show me a route using back roads too… mm… Barstow?” The blue line now snaked Northwest across the screen to a small town named Pahrump, where it then turned south toward Barstow, CA, and back to I-15.
It might add an hour or two, but at least I’ll be sure I’m not being followed, she reasoned. She set the cruise at four miles over the speed limit and stared ahead while the story of what she was running from replayed in her mind.
Mari Sadow was a young actor on the verge of hitting the big time. She was attractive, even by Hollywood standards, 5’6”, blonde hair, tight athletic figure with nice tits, and grey-green eyes that she could turn to smoky sex magnets when the mood struck her. She had a natural midwestern drawl, but could easily slip into several spot-on accents ranging from the Bronx to Berlin. Meryl Streep, naturally, was her inspiration.
She’d played secondary characters in a couple of major movies. Her portrayal of a conniving and manipulative debutante named Lucy, in her most recent, a thriller called Deceiving, had critics throwing praise at her for nearly stealing the show. She had found herself receiving invites to events and parties on both coasts and was now being introduced to some major players throughout the industry. She knew she had arrived when they all started pronouncing her name right, MAH-ree, instead of muh-REE.
This was how she had found herself partying in Vegas over the weekend and how she was now trying to put as much distance between herself and “Sin City.” She had made a mistake, a big one, and, unless things were handled right, it could cost her both her career and her reputation.
She had traveled to Vegas by herself for a small film industry event, which was her first mistake. She should have invited a girlfriend to come along, but Janie, who often went with her, was working on a set in Burbank, and Melanie, another close friend, was in love and holed up somewhere in Woodland Hills with some guy named Gwynn. There were others she could have asked, but she knew that Noah would be there. She had met and partied with the handsome young actor in Miami a couple of months back and reasoned that he’d make a good running partner for a couple of days.
The event was important for networking. Her agent, Polly, thought it would be a good idea to attend and meet some of the studios in attendance. This was lower-level stuff, so Polly wasn’t going to attend, but she’d set up a couple of interviews for Mari. The rest of the time, the young ingenue planned to expand her horizons by partying and schmoozing. Maybe, if Noah played his cards right, Mari had considered inviting him to her hotel afterward. He was another up-and-comer who was making the rounds and starting to attract some good attention. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to Mari, Noah had plans of his own for the weekend.
The meetings went well. There was big talk about flashy future projects and possible auditions, but Mari knew to take it all with a grain of salt. Hollywood was like that, and nothing was certain until contracts were signed. Even then, things could go south in a hurry if egos or money got in the way. Still, she was a known commodity now, and people were starting to take her seriously. That felt good, but what she knew would feel even better was the buzz she’d cop at the club she was going to afterward.
She was at that perfect place with her celebrity, where she could drift around inside the club, moving freely in and out of the private events and the main room with the huge chandelier. She enjoyed the energy of both and welcomed the throbbing rhythms and physical contact as she writhed her way through the crowds, letting hands roam over her limbs and curves like a giant, full-body vibrator, groping, squeezing, cupping, and sliding over every square inch of her young, firm anatomy.
She had dressed light and loose, knowing what to expect that evening and wanting to make her body as accessible to touch as possible. She had partied there a year before and had actually been brought to orgasm in the main room by a vibrator that someone had smuggled in.
On that night, she had been dancing her way through the crowd on her way back toward a private party she’d stepped away from. She had a great buzz going, tripping on an enjoyable combination of booze and a CK, a mix of coke and ketamine. She’d felt a hand grope her ass, which was not unusual, but then a strong vibration rumbled into her hip. As she turned to see what had caused it, her arms were pressed to her sides, and the buzzing instrument snaked around her hip and down over her groin.
Small tremors of pleasure rose from her pussy as she immediately sensed it was the final destination of the vibe. At the same time, a flush of panic swelled in her chest as she felt herself pressed between two men. Looking down at her arms, she saw a large pair of black hands, one gripping each of her elbows. Not hard, just firmly, almost as if he were helping her keep from falling.
In front of her was an average-looking guy with dark hair and a short beard. His eyes drilled holes in hers as he stepped closer. He pushed the pulsing device in his hand down over her mound and onto her clit through her skirt. The crowd was dense, and they were all close enough together that anyone watching would think they were a threesome, dancing and grinding to the sensual beat. After a few frantic moments, she realized their game and relaxed, giving herself over to them. She knew that, with all the people around them, all she’d have to do was resist, and her amorous captors would have released her and left.
When he sensed her surrender, the black man released her arms and slid his hands up to cup her generous breasts while his partner raised the front of her skirt and pressed the vibe hard against her clit through her thin panties. She instantly felt her juices soak her underwear and start trickling down her inner thigh. Her first groan slipped out of her mouth, but was immediately muffled when the guy behind her pulled her chin to the side and crushed his lips against hers.
The white guy stepped forward and, with his free hand, stretched the waistband of her panties down to nest the tip of the vibe directly onto her hardened nub. Once the vibe had been nestled into place, his free hand traveled lower, his fingers pressing apart her smooth outer lips to access the sopping and slippery pink inner petals. Mari’s eyes were closed now, but she still felt them rolling back in their sockets.
She struggled to breathe through her nose as the tongue of the man kissing her filled her mouth, leaving no room for air to pass. Still, she allowed them to molest her, losing herself in the sudden invasion of her two cavities while her clit continued responding to the incessant throbs of pleasure that the vibe was pounding into it. She didn’t realize it, but she had immediately risen up on her toes and thrust her pelvis forward, opening herself even more to the welcome onslaught of pleasure.
Before long, her hips started to buck as waves of bright, iridescent color flowed out from her nether region, throbbing in time to the bounce of the music, and spreading outward through her limbs. Her orgasm broke her open, and she felt her fluids spray out of her into the surrounding dark ether. She no longer felt the hands that held her as she exploded. She was a supernova releasing itself outward, into a spinning and throbbing universe.
She rode out several spikes of intense pleasure that were finally able to fight their way up and out of her mouth. They burst into the surrounding air as throaty screams of pleasure that blended into the cacophony of hedonism around her.
The spiking soon diminished to a deep, satisfying hum, and her eyes opened to see the guy with the vibe fumbling with his fly. She stared, motionless as the tip of his hardness appeared. “Mari!” Janie’s voice called to her from a distant planet. “Mari!” Her friend’s voice drifted closer, and she soon felt small hands replace the larger ones that had been roaming across her body. “Mari, let’s go!”
Janie was suddenly there, pulling her forward, forcing her to stumble away from the two men who had just launched her like a rocket into the heavens. She remembered Janie reaching down to tug at her panties, still halfway down her thighs. Her friend caught the hem of her skirt in the waistband, which left her left ass cheek and all the tracks of her ejaculate still shimmering on her inner thighs, exposed to the crowd. “Jesus, Mari, you can’t be doing shit like that!”
“I came so fucking hard!” Mari mumbled stupidly as her friend shuffled her through the crowd, past the doorman, and down an echoing hallway to an elevator.
Ever since that night, Mari had been very careful about who she partied with and how hard she went at it. She had assured herself that she’d be careful this weekend, that she’d stay close to Noah, once they hooked up, and that, if she ventured out into the main room, she’d keep moving. She knew that if she stopped too long, someone might recognize her now, and who knows what might happen then. Yeah, she had planned to be careful and, if Noah was interested, she might even call it a short night.
It was a good plan.
The traffic lessened as the Z4 rolled past the small, sand-colored neighborhoods on the southwest edge of Vegas. As the city slipped behind her, images from the events of last night rushed to the front of the young starlet’s mind. “You dumb, fucking slut!” Mari pounded the wheel with the butt of her hand again.
She looked down at her matching liquid organza peasant blouse and mini-skirt set, feeling much less impressed with what she saw than she had been when she stepped out of her hotel room wearing it the night before. It was a beautiful, diaphanous lavender floral print. She went braless last night, but wore dark plum panties that showed erotically through the sheer material. She knew the look would attract attention, and she wanted it.
This morning, however, both the see-through blouse and skirt were ruined by an array of sharp creases and dark stains that refused to blend in with the sultry floral print. The plum panties were gone, having been left behind God knows where. She felt lucky to have found the skirt and blouse after searching among the pile of naked bodies and discarded clothing back at the nightclub. She discovered her phone only because Polly had called, and she was able to track it down by the ringtone she used for her, Circus by Britney Spears.
Polly was pissed. “Get your ass back here, now,” she barked. No hello, how are you, or even where are you? Just “Get in your car and drive back to L.A. now, or else you and I are done.”
“Wha… What the… What’s going on, Polly?” Mari’s head was foggy, and she tried to get her agent to explain why she was so upset.
“They have pictures, damn it,” the older woman barked. “I’m sending you one on Snap now. I want you to take a good fucking look at it, then tell me if you want to waste any more time arguing with me here.” The image popped up on the app, and Mari’s heart sank. It was a broadside angle of her being spit-roasted by Noah and another guy named Trevor, who Noah had introduced her to when they met up at the club the evening before. A line-up of naked men holding their cocks on the couch behind them brought back more memories than the tired, achy blonde wanted to revisit just then.
Nevertheless, flashbacks began pummeling her. Drinks, a quick snort of something Noah called Tusi in a dark corner, and the night got started. Then came sensory flashes of someone helping her get undressed, her pussy being probed by fingers, and becoming extremely wet. The rest of the night was a carousel of naked bodies and stiff, prying appendages.
Graphic images drifted in her mind’s eye until she heard Polly repeating her name. “Mari, Goddamn it, MARI! Listen to me, go find your car, get in it, and get your ass back here to my office. NOW!”
“Okay, fuck!” the confused blonde agreed. “I’ll go check out and…”
“NO! Do not fucking check out. Don’t even go back to your room for your things. Go get your fucking car, get in it, and drive your little slut ass back here now. Do it, or we’re done! Goddamn it, I’m trying to save your career, Mari!”
“Okay, okay, yes. I’m sorry, Polly.” The hungover woman immediately started crawling on her hands and knees, searching for her clothes. She found her blouse and skirt on the floor near a couch. She made a quick scan of the surrounding area, but couldn’t locate her underwear.
This will have to do, she thought as she wrestled them back onto her sore, sticky body. She stumbled to a bathroom for a quick wash to get the dried, flaky fluids off her, then made her way to the valet for her car. It was brought around, and though the young man eyed her quizzically, he held the door open as she poured herself in behind the wheel.
As she wheeled out into the desert on the two-lane highway, leaving Vegas behind her, she decided she’d better call Polly back to let her know she was on her way. She pushed the activation button and said, “Call Polly.”
“Function not activated,” the calm-sounding lady replied. Mari felt a twinge in her stomach.
My phone! Shit! I left it back in the hotel bathroom when I peed and washed up! She backed off the gas momentarily, but realized there was no way she could go back for it now. Polly had told her to get the hell out of there and get back to L.A. And, honestly, she knew that walk of shame through the hotel was too much for her to bear anyway. It was then that her predicament really hit her. No phone, no credit cards, no cash, no ID, not even her driver’s license. She pulled the car over, got out, and hammered her small hands on the hood of the vehicle.
“Fuuuuck!!! Fuck this god-damned, fucking shitty day!” She screamed her anger out into the desert void. The arid, barren landscape returned nothing, not even an echo to acknowledge her presence or her predicament. Angered worse by the non-response, she pounded and hollered again… Still, nothing. The desert didn’t seem to care how pretty she was, how many movies she’d been in, or how loud she cried.
It was not yet mid-morning, but the desert heat already pressed down on her with a dry, dominating presence. She was barefoot, and the hot asphalt, along with her dehydrated body, screamed at her to get back in the air-conditioned car.
She got in and looked at the gas gauge. She said a small prayer of thanks to her deceased father, who had drilled into her the importance of gassing up her car as soon as she arrived at her destination after a long trip rather than leaving it to be another pesky detail she had to address before leaving town. She’d have enough gas to get back to Polly’s office. An inspired thought made her look over at the cubby in the passenger door, where she found a half-full bottle of water…
