Chapter 6: Dinner Parties, Orgies, and Lovers

Crystal and I tried to talk three times a week: Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. Usually, Ellen did three-quarters of the talking, and I got a few words in. We'd agreed from almost the moment we met to not only have an open relationship, but also to share all the details of our other relationships with one another. Thus, Ellen would give her version of the details – the feminine viewpoint – and I would come on the phone and give her the shorter male version. Anyone listening would get off in seconds our conversations were so sexually explicit on some days.

Crystal took it in stride that Claire had moved in with Ellen and me at the hotel, complete with full bilateral sexual privileges meaning that she played nicely with both Ellen and me, and took the initiative as often as we did – several times a day.

I took it in stride that Crystal had developed a relationship with George Rinard, her handsome co-star in the movie The Naked Truth that she was making in Paris and Moscow. The pair even had themselves on the front page of several supermarket gossip magazines as the latest hookup worthy of note. Several magazines even raised the question: 'What happened to Jim?' Working in a conference room all day every day, I'd had a low profile to the media; no one even knew where I was.

I became amazed at how much 'back room' work got done by the cast members of a movie beforee filming actually started. I'd been through the screen play so many times, I practically had every line memorized, not only mine, but also those of my co-stars, even for scenes I wasn't in.

Claire took it in stride that we shared everything with Crystal. She even got hot listening to us recount one of our threesome romps to Crystal, so she got naked on the bed next to me with a vibrator against her clit and stared at me until I got off the phone and made love to her. Several times Claire and I were fucking away as we talked to Crystal whom in turn described the pleasure she was deriving from her favorite electric dildo (we could hear the buzz) or one-time from George (we could hear him panting).

Crystal also related a threesome she'd engaged in with George and his brother. "I loved the idea of fucking two members of the family simultaneously." I allowed as how I did too, thinking of Crystal and Ellen, or my sister, sister-in-law. We all had some good laughs about our incestuous behavior.

No one in LA paid any special attention to us. I didn't run around town screaming 'I'm a country music star, ' so our anonymity was preserved. We came and went to the studio each day, ate out at all sorts of 'normal' restaurants, and took 'Discover California' trips on the weekends. Ellen, Claire, and I went down and saw my sister Anna in San Diego one weekend, staying over and enjoying a small orgy with Anna and her boyfriend Mark. (She'd farmed out my niece and nephew to their father.) During the week, we also had occasional dates with Jill, Tina, or Jason. Both Jill and Tina were insatiable sexual nymphomaniacs, distinguished from the others in our circle only by their vocalization of that moniker. I realized they'd become bisexual so that they could have twice as many people trying to pleasure them.

Barry Peters our male co-star became available about three weeks after we met, so he started to be a fixture at some of our sexual romps. Jill had already corrupted the poor man long before we met, and she obviously liked what he had to offer. He would often join Jill and Tina for an evening, dragging into our rehearsals the next morning looking haggard and sated while Jill looked rested and eager to get going. I'd started to follow my acting coach's advice to pace myself by limiting most of my nights to Ellen and Claire. Right there was a very full and satisfying evening.

Our serene existence exploded one day when the paparazzi discovered me. Actually, they discovered all of us as we had started to film some outdoor scenes on the streets of LA. Many short scenes involved one or two of us walking or running around some street, often looking over our shoulder or else looking forward in anticipation, and sometimes carrying some kind of fire arm.

Sony had issued a standard press release that talked about our movie, Pressure Limit, and that filming had just started and the anticipated release date. The announcement contained all the standard babble about the movie, who was in it (including yours truly), and the location for some of the local scenes.

Mark Ang got a section of beach blocked off not too far from the Santa Monica Pier. Jill and I had a scene where we were running away from the bad guys – who, of course, wore black suits and looked similar to Ninja warriors with fedora hats. We were to come running out of a side street, jump across a couple of cars (thank you Jason for handling that part of my action), and then hit the beach at a sprint – running behind a camera truck that would film us as we ran through the sand, stumbling about. We'd run about a block as we got shot at, and then we had to cut back into the City as we outran the bad guys partly because I shot their leader who did a majestic death fall into the edge of the rolling surf. I was to pull Jill along with me. After a couple of running shots, we redid the sequence with several different cameras on the ground, and one in a low-flying helicopter. Ellen and Claire, clad in R-rated bikinis, were some of the background extras on the beach that we ran past.

Our behavior between takes had become pretty informal. Jill would often come up to me, plaster her lithe body against mine, grind her hips a bit, and kiss me passionately whenever the mood struck her, which turned out to be at least once every quarter of an hour. When she wasn't attending to me either Ellen or Claire or both were doting on me, often soliciting a kiss or some other physical expression of affection. Claire liked to give my shoulder rubs and massages as I sat, often leaning around and kissing me. We were deeply in love.

We spent one afternoon on various segments of the film's scenes at that location. Spectators lined parts of our set but were out of sight from the camera angles, and they included a dozen paparazzi. I really forgot about them for the whole afternoon, until as we were folding up Ang suggested Jill and I say a few words to them. I gestured to one of the security guys to let the twelve individuals in – five woman and seven men, most with cameras. The three of us walked over to meet them. We stood in a rough circle.

Ang greeted them cordially and we did polite introductions, shaking hands and greeting; however, at the start, the questions flew in Jill and my direction.

"Jim, you looked pretty cozy with Miss Dane and those two other women. Are you compensating for losing Crystal to George Rinard over in Paris?"

A long silence ensued, and then I burst out laughing – some of it was forced, but most of my laugh stemmed from the humor I saw in the situation. I had been caught so off-guard by the question; it struck me funny. I could barely stop laughing and had a grin a mile wide. My laughter gave me time to formulate a response; the paparazzi looked completely puzzled by how I cracked up, and they too started to chuckle in resonance.

Still chuckling I answered, "Now, there's an idea I hadn't thought of, but by way of answering your question, you make several assumptions that are not correct in forming your loaded, multi-part question. Do you others mind if she breaks that apart into more digestible segments?" The others nodded at her to do as I had suggested.

The woman smiled back and asked, "OK, in reverse order, do you miss Crystal."

I responded, "Yes, we were and are very close friends. We eagerly await when we can see each other again, and we talk several times a week."

"Are you aware of her intimate relationship with George Rinard?"

I'd anticipated that question so had a ready answer, "Yes. We have never been exclusive in our friendship. I am glad she has found some new people to expand her horizons and show her new points of view. She told me only yesterday they were having fun and planned to go to the Riviera this weekend, and to Rome next weekend – just quick trips to see the locales." Everyone scribbled on their note pads madly.

The press woman asked further, "So, do you have an intimate relationship with Jill Danes?"

I had not talked to Jill about any prearranged remarks, so this part of the interview started to venture into grounds I wasn't prepared for. Before I could speak, Jill slipped under my left arm and said, "Why, yes. Jim is such a good lover, maybe the best I've ever known – you know, both quality and quantity ... oh, and size, too." She then laughed hysterically, suggesting that some part or all of her remark might be a huge tease – and most of what got said was unprintable. I broke out laughing again as did most of the reporters who all seemed to take her remarks as total fabrication.

The woman persisted, "And, Mr. Mellon, we saw you being ... or rather having some intimate or close moments with two other women on the set – kissing, hugging, and I think one of them gave you a shoulder rub or massage for a while."

I pondered that question when one of the male reporters jumped in, "Yes, what about those other two women? Do you have Jill and two others on the line?"

I chuckled and said with bravado, "Doesn't every male movie star have his leading lady and at least two other women on the set to keep him warm on cold nights, and to attend to his every need?" A little bit of laughter erupted from the group. "As I said before, I am just a bachelor with no strings, and I'm not planning on creating any either in the near future. So, I date and play the field."

My remark proved disarming enough that the line of questioning stopped. Nonetheless, I wondered what would appear on the cover of the supermarket rags.

Our time with the press continued with Ang and Jill fielding some more mundane questions that didn't deal with relationships surrounding the movie or my girlfriend in Paris. I fielded a question about mixing music and acting, and then we all headed off to dinner.

Mellon's Harem!

I stood and stared at the headline on the National Rumor, a supermarket tabloid. Below and behind the headline were a series of snapshot photographs of me: kissing Jill, kissing Ellen, and kissing Claire. Next to it was an old picture of me kissing Crystal with a big red 'X' through it, and next to that a picture of Crystal and George Rinard obviously leaving some Paris nightclub arm in arm, one of Crystal's boobs looked about to pop out of her dress, but upon closer examination I could tell the dress and breast had been Photoshopped to tease the potential readers. I couldn't resist, so as I stood in line I flipped open and read the first few paragraphs of the article. They were remarkably accurate, including a quote of me commenting about needing three women to keep me warm at night.

As I put the magazine in my cart, the guy in line behind me said, "I sure hope you don't kill yourself trying to keep up with them three women. I like your music and wanna see your movie, but don't get so knackered with them women that you have to stop any of whatever it is you're doin'."

I reached over and shook his hand, "Thanks. I think I have things under control; at least this afternoon and in this country." He chuckled along with me, and was pleased that I'd paid personal attention to him. His polite and subtle recognition of me gave me a warm feeling about the man.

I sent Crystal an email and the link to the National Rumor magazine article about us. An hour later see wrote back, "Good PR. Nice job. Save a few inches for me. Love. C." She liked taunting me about the length of the perfect dick; she told me I was just a little over the top.

Ellen and Claire were lounging around the hotel room when I got back with our groceries: a couple of bottles of wine, some cheese, and an assortment of crackers. We wanted some simple hors d'oeuvres before we went out to dinner. We snacked in the room and for meals either ate in a nearby restaurant or ordered up room service. I showed them the article, and we all had a laugh about it.

The two women wore feminine half-slips, the kind meant to be worn around the waist and that extend down to just above the hemline of a dress. In this case; however, the slips had been pulled up to barely cover their breasts; this also meant, since they wore short skirts with the slips, that the bottom of the slip fell right about at pussy level. Sometimes when they moved, I got a flash of their trimmed pubic hair, or a nipple would pop out over the top of the elastic. They couldn't have it both ways.

Soon, both women realized the effect they were having on me, probably because of the growing lump in my jeans. I moved around the kitchenette getting each them a glass of wine, and putting crackers and cheese on some serving plates. Each time I looked over at them, someone would move a leg or lean over the coffee table to get a magazine or something the other was showing her – and in that move, a flash of ass, or pussy, or a breast would occur; a microsecond's worth of eye candy. I realized the moves had become intentional.

I warned the two as I carried the two glasses to them, "You're playing with fire. I may just have to carry the two of you into the bedroom and plunder your bodies."

Ellen stuck a finger in her wine and flicked a few drops in my direction. As she did, she spread her legs and flashed her pussy at me with a devilish laugh.

Claire laughed as she used one finger to pull the top of the silky slip down just enough to expose the complete areola and nipple of her right breast.

Without fanfare, I carefully removed the glasses of wine from the girl's hands and set them aside. Then, quick as a flash, I scooped up the two of them under my arms – two squirming, laughing, and shrieking women. I carried and dragged them into the bedroom of our suite and tossed them onto the large king-size bed. They bounced around and tried to escape. I pinned Claire down and held onto Ellen. Gales of laughter rang out from the two. I growled at each of them in my fiercest lion roar – more laughter and shrieking.

Ellen paused long enough for me to turn to her and rip the slip from her body up over her head. If I hadn't been hard before, just the sight of her nubile body inspired me to turn rock-like. I repeated the gesture on Claire as she sat up in surprise. In the next instant, I kicked off my loafers and pants, shed my shirt, and doffed my briefs. I flopped onto the bed between the two women who now seemed more than willing to play a different game.

We shared a three-way kiss: all our lips and tongues in contact with one another. I lay back, and Claire positioned one of her breasts over my mouth as Ellen slithered down my body dragging her tongue. I sucked and got sucked on. Ellen didn't just suck cock, she worshipped it with her mouth, her tongue, her entire body. She brought me to a standstill; the sensations she created were so intense.

When Ellen backed off a bit, and I could multi-process again, Claire allowed me to bring both of her nipples to an erectness and hardness I'm not sure I'd seen before. She then leaned in and kissed me passionately, and whispered, "I love you."

When she first had joined with Ellen and me, I had been skittish of telling her I loved her. To be frank, I wasn't sure it was love, lust, some combination of the two, or just intense like. As I got to know more and more about her, my deep feelings and emotions about her clarified even though only a little over a month had passed since we met. I whispered in reply, "I love you too."

Claire's devotion to me was epic. Her love was palpable, and I felt it every second of the day or night. She blended right into our lifestyle without blinking. Moreover, Ellen and Claire were in love too, and by extension I knew she'd fit perfectly with Crystal when the two could meet face to face. This was a powerful love.

Ellen knew Claire needed more validation than she did, so she didn't object to hearing our affection openly stated. I'd had a private chat with Ellen about how I felt about her and about Claire. I didn't want there to be any unexpected drama between the three of us, and so far we were doing alright at keeping any errant emotions in check. We'd agreed to be exceptionally open in expressing our feelings – good or bad or sad.

Claire moved further up the bed with a look of pure lust on her face. She carefully straddled my head, and then lowered her pussy down onto my face. My mouth and tongue went wild lapping at her slit, drinking in the nectar she exuded as a prelude to sex. Claire had a unique taste; a musky touch of a spice like vanilla coupled with the sweetness and tartness of a lime. Every time I delved into her nest with my tongue, I felt so special and privileged to savor her juices. I wondered if God made redheads so they tasted especially good. When I told Claire that, only a couple of days earlier, she'd whispered, "I make all those juices just for you – for people I love, and I love you so much it almost hurts some days."

Near my cock, I felt Ellen pull away, rise, and kiss Claire. I heard their pledges of love to one another – a new and pleasant surprise and an extension of what had been happening, and then I felt Ellen's body straddle my legs. I felt her hold my penis at the entrance to her vagina and then sink her body slowly onto my shaft. Another ripple of pleasure rifled through my body as her warm sheath encompassed my hardness.

Blindly, I reached up to fondle Claire's breasts further and found Ellen's hands were there. Further above me the two kissed.

I asked from beneath Claire, "How long do you want me to wait?" Ellen knew what I meant. That morning, the three of us leisurely had a fuck that lasted for hours.

Ellen said, "You came in me this morning. I loved it then, and I'd love it now, but it's Claire's turn if she wants it."

Claire said softly, "Oh, I do. Can we change?"

The two women moved from me, but in only seconds the pair had switched positions. I felt the heat of Claire's juicy pussy slide onto my cock. She smiled down at me in obvious joy as I briefly held her hips to guide her onto me. Shortly after, Ellen lowered her sodden pussy onto my lips and my tongue went wild again, this time getting a taste of the gorgeous brunette. A minute later, I knew she'd cum. Ellen tasted like the musky oak of some fine wines with a bite of rosemary.

After a few minutes in this three-way position, Claire wanted to lie down. As she did, Ellen straddled her head as I plunged back into Claire again. I could see Claire's tongue frantically reaching out to her sapphic lover. Ten minutes later, I exploded my essence into Claire's body. My cumming matched her own orgasm. We were getting good at synchronization. Ellen rolled to the side so I could cradle Claire in my arms and kiss her, and then Ellen wrapped her arms about the two of us.

We dozed in the afterglow of our orgasms, our sweaty bodies wrapped close together. The experience of a threesome is unique and almost undescribable. I felt surrounded by beautiful soft skin, and we kissed frequently – each of us having our own unique interaction with the other. I could feel and hold two hot asses, feel two pairs of ripe breasts against my body, savor four nipples, and tell two women I loved them without anyone feeling jealous or anxious about some mythical loss that would never occur.

Ellen eventually slid down the bed and pulled Claire's legs apart. Claire complied, but displayed some innocence once again when she asked, "Ellen, are you sure?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure. Do you want me to bring you some?"

After a thoughtful silence Claire said, "Yes. Bring me all of it. We'll share."

Claire's eyes closed as the pleasure of Ellen's cunnilingus swept over her. Ellen sucked and pulled my cum from Claire's vagina. When she had as much as she could find and lap up, she moved up and snowballed the cum with Claire – swapping my man-juice back and forth and adding in their own saliva. I thought how many people would consider the entire act disgusting, yet to see it and even participate in it raised our sexual temperatures to a new level of eroticism and intimacy. Eventually, the two women French kissed me, returning a small portion of my own juices to me.

Over dinner, I shared with Claire and Ellen more details about what I'd seen in the magazine National Rumors, since neither of them had time to read the stories in detail. Neither seemed particularly upset, and as I had, they took it as the paparazzi doing their thing. I did notice in the restaurant we were in, that we all received many strange looks and even leers from some of the men and women in the place.

Claire ventured, "Jill will be glad for the news coverage, even if it is in a tabloid known for its yellow journalism. Her PR agent told her there's no such thing as bad press."

Ellen said, "I agree. Each day Jill becomes more of a 'Mellon Girl'."

"Where'd that term come from?" I asked in surprise.

Ellen explained, "Mellon Girl? That's what Crystal and I call all the women who have slept with you, and who want to do it again and again. So, you have Mellon Girls all across the country, including Crystal and me – and Claire – and now Jill. We've all had the Mellon experience."

Claire looked surprised, "What do you mean 'across the country'?"

I nodded my approval for Ellen to tell her version of my road trip. She started, telling some of the background that Claire already knew, "Two years ago, Jim's wife died from a sudden autoimmune system illness. It was fast – only a month from healthy to her passing. In Jim's grief, he rebuilt a motorcycle his Dad had left for him years earlier, and started on a journey across America to get to Anna's house in San Diego."

Claire nodded; she picked up a little of this from when we'd visited Anna a couple of weeks earlier. I'd not meant to hide anything from her, but somehow the details about the trip had never come forward except for a couple of specific highlights, like my getting shot stopping the rape of a pretty girl in Alabama. Claire now got all the pieces in an orderly way.

Ellen continued, "So Jim decided to ride through the forty-eight lower states from Massachusetts to Anna's home. As he went along, he found hot women and warm pussies everywhere." She laughed, "He rose to the occasion, so to speak, and he fucked them all – eighty beautiful women. He scored in almost every state." Ellen threw her hands up as though I'd scored a touchdown. Some people at the next table overheard Ellen's last sentence and turned around. I blushed. One of the men at the other table winked at me, clearly wishing he'd done whatever it was that provoked Ellen's statement.

Ellen saw the man's reaction and lowered her voice, "You already know how he met Crystal and me, and we weren't even halfway along his journey, but we reconnected a couple of times after that before he got to San Diego. Anyway, Crystal loves the story about Jim's trip, and she even met some of the women along the way, so she started to refer to herself and all the others as Mellon Girls. I use the term too."

I said weakly, "I never knew that."

Claire said, "Well, I'm a Mellon Girl through and through, and Jill will love the term Mellon Girl too, since she already is one and wants more of you on a steady basis."

After a pause, Claire said, "Hey, do you want to have some fun? Let's drop in on Jill and see what mischief she's up to tonight."

We agreed with her idea. I settled up our dinner bill, and we left the restaurant, piled into the Mercedes, and headed for Jill's home, which I now had programmed into the GPS.

We parked my car in Jill's driveway behind two other cars. Instead of knocking or ringing the bell, Claire said, "Let's just sneak in if the door is unlocked. We're all friends." She must have known Jill's habits because the front door was unlocked. There was that mystery about Claire that I'd sensed when we'd first met. I wondered again if she'd ever put my suspicions to rest that there was a part of her we didn't know anything about. We tiptoed inside, hoping that we'd surprise Jill in some interesting way.