American Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Wolf
Chapter 12: Going Public
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: Going Public - Princess ‘Carrie’ Caroline disappears, but for Jim she becomes a visitor who captures his heart. They start their adventures, dodging the public, authorities, and then abductors. Her new life sex, swinging, polyamory, and some wild parties, all while building a new career. The princess, Jim, and new friends fall in love and enjoy unusual experiences and adventures. Much sex.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Royalty
I had an idea that I talked to Marjorie and Carrie about when I got home. “Carrie, you want ‘normal’. Well, normal people are out and about all the time, they don’t stay inside. Some of them get jobs or they do volunteer work; you know because you’ve met many of them from the philanthropic side of your previous life. Maybe now is the time to re-invoke some of that, but with the ‘normal’ spin on things.”
“You mean volunteer for something?” Carrie asked.
“Maybe. That’d be up to you. You could also just take a ‘normal’ paying job at something you’d like to do. I’m sure you could get hired right away”
“I don’t want to trade on my name or position.”
“We know, but realistically some of your future life is still going to be unavoidably tied to your past.”
Marjorie eagerly said, “I could get you a job at the TV station in an instant. You could do human interest stories for us, the type of thing that we might do a special on, or a special-interest story at the end of a news broadcast to demonstrate that we report some good stuff along with all the bad shit going on.”
“That sounds like fun. What would I have to do?”
“You could have your own ideas or we could feed you some. You might do a couple of dozen interviews with a cameraman joined to your hip, do some editing of the results, and then set the stage in a live broadcast occasionally. We should talk about it with our production director who’s responsible for that kind of stuff. I don’t know what their budget for that would be. They’re always talking about that kind of thing, so it must be important.”
“Could I go in with you tomorrow?”
“Sure. Let me send him an email tonight to be sure it’s all right with him.”
An hour later she got a reply text, ’Bring her in. Sounds like a great idea.’
The next morning, I went off to work and Marjorie and Carrie drove to WDC-TV to re-meet with Phil Coleman, the VP Production for the station.
I got a text while at lunch with my work team, ’Got the job. Fun. Love you, C.’
When I got home from work, Marjorie was there alone puttering in the kitchen starting to make some kind of pasta dinner.
“Where’s Carrie?”
“Oh, she went to the grocery store in my car.” After laying that surprising fact at my feet, Marjorie studied me to see what my reaction would be.
“Is she alone?”
“Yes. She’s attempting something ‘normal.’”
I rolled my eyes. Twenty minutes later, Carrie came in with the shopping cart that I use laden with various groceries and a few bottles of wine. She looked at me to see if I were mad or any other negative emotion.
I just went to her and kissed her. I said, “I want to hear all about your new job and your day. You’ve had a lot of excitement.”
She broke into a huge smile. “Yes, I did, and I love grocery shopping. Everyone was so nice. Most of the people didn’t even know it was me – I mean me the princess, plus there’s so much choice of something in the store. I bet there were twenty different kinds of spaghetti sauce.”
“What about your job?”
“Well, I’m a special reporter and I have my first assignment. I have a guy named Pete, who’s my cameraman, and we’re going to do a special on the environment and how the rising waters due to the melting ice caps will impact the Washington, D.C. area in coming years. I’ve got to do research, come up with dozens of pithy questions, graphs to show, and then figure out whom to interview to get some of the answers. Since many of the authorities work in nearby government agencies, this will be a good starter assignment for me, plus it’s something that has worried me for a long time.”
Marjorie volunteered, “Pete is in his late sixties, but didn’t want to retire. His work is top notch, plus he speaks his mind. If he sees she’s doing something dangerous or dumb, he won’t hold back – princess or no princess, that’s the way he is.”
Carrie said, “Yes, I liked him. He’ll keep me honest, if I can put it that way. He doesn’t put up with any bullshit.” She paused and said, “Oh, I got to use one of the words I learned in school.”
We laughed, and got into dinner. After dinner, Carrie announced that she wanted to go to an ice cream store for dessert. Consequently, the three of us hopped in the car, Carrie drove – on the correct side of the road, and we navigated to Columbia, and found a TCBY ice cream store to indulge our taste buds.
We sat in the store eating our ice cream, and I could tell that Carrie was soaking up the fact that she was doing something ‘normal’.
I carefully watched the other people in and around the store to see if there was any recognition. One man about Carrie’s age figured it out, but all he did was nod at her and smile. He did whisper to his girlfriend, who glanced over and also smiled. Carrie gave them a little wave, and went back to her cone and talking to Marjorie. No one else reacted, and the couple seemed to find satisfaction in knowing and not saying anything. Of course, Carrie had the short red hair image, so not everyone would immediately see her in the thin disguise.
The experience at the ice cream shop gave us all a false sense of security. Somehow, when we looked back on the situation, we realized we’d all thought we could go out in public with little consequence other than some occasional recognition.
That silly notion got blown away on Friday evening when we went to the Outback Steakhouse. We’d traded off preparing dinner during the week, Carrie, Marjorie, and me each taking an evening. We decided to eat out to celebrate Carrie’s first week of work at the TV station.
We got to the restaurant and there was a ten-minute wait for a table. We stood around in the foyer of the restaurant until they called my name. By that time, I think several of the other people waiting for tables had figured out that Marjorie – now a TV personality, and Carrie – the royal princess, accompanied me. There had been a subtle buzz, but we just ignored it. We got seated in a booth deep inside the restaurant, and had just ordered some wine when things started.
A young twenties girl came up to the table and addressed the princess; “Your royal highness, may I be so bold as to take a ‘selfie’ with you?”
Carrie patted the seat beside her, the girl pulled out her cell phone, and three seconds later had taken the requested photo. The phone’s photoflash had fired off for the pic calling attention to us.
As the young woman left, I got a bad feeling. I saw three other people in my line of sight stand and start for our table. One served as their spokesman when they arrived simultaneously; “We’d like to have our picture taken with you, too.” The request sounded more like a demand than a request.
Carrie shot me a nervous glance. “Errr, I guess so, but we’re trying to have our dinner in peace.”
One by one each person sat with Carrie for a photo, but by then there was a line of about a dozen people at our table.
Our drinks came, and the waitress looked highly perturbed. She asked, “Do you want me to do anything?”
I nodded and whispered to her, “Help. This is getting out of control.” I gestured at the line of people we were trying to ignore.
The waitress disappeared. Carrie slowly sipped her wine and ignored an older man who had just sat down beside her to do a selfie. Another teen had sat beside Marjorie and was taking a selfie with her. I was chopped liver; no one wanted my picture and I felt glad about that fact.
The restaurant manager came over to the table. He said, “What seems to be the problem here ... Oh, shit.” He’d just seen the princess and Marjorie.
I said quietly to him, “Could you just ask these people to return to their seats so we can eat our meal in peace?”
He immediately turned to the growing crowd around out table and urged everyone to leave and return to their seats. He nicely stood near us and shooed other overzealous fans away from our area.
There was a lot of grumbling, but people did move away. A few just took photos of us at our table as they departed. The scene and the words of the manager were heard throughout the restaurant, so everyone knew or should have known that we were ‘off limits’ for the rest of the evening. Eventually, the manager was able to leave.
We weren’t that lucky.
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