80 lines
4.9 KiB
Plaintext
80 lines
4.9 KiB
Plaintext
Archive-name: Changes/starlet3.txt
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Archive-author: Mark Rabinowitz
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Archive-title: To Catch a Starlet, Part III - Five More Times a Lady
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To Catch a Starlet 3: Five More Times a Lady.
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Chapter 1: Fade to Black
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OK, OK, let's be reasonable. There is no birth certificate or Social Security
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number for "Donna Coolidge," I thought as I signed that name on the contract to
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strip and dance at the Booby Trap. How in the world could Peter think he could
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get me to marry him and have his baby? And how would I pay taxes on my stripping
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if, in fact, this was what my life would be?
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I stood outside the rear entrance, wondering about life as a stripper, waiting
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for Nelson to pick me up. I was surprised when Peter, not Nelson, showed up, in
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an old (I'd say early '80s) Chevy van. He parked in front of me, then walked up
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to me and said that Nelson had car trouble and asked him to pick me up. Sounds
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familiar, I thought. Nelson had to pick me up because *I* had car trouble.
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"Uh, that's OK, I can get a taxi," I responded in that carefree, delectable
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Kellie Martin voice, having lost my trust in Peter and Nelson.
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He grabbed my arm and said, "Donna, listen to me. The police are on to me--"
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"No surprise," I added.
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"--And they know you can answer some of their questions. Sorry, but I have to
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do this."
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He held another chloroform cloth to my nose and mouth. I tried another muffled
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scream, in fear that I would die. But this time, he applied it only long enough
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to sap some strength. Before I fell asleep, I could feel him injecting something
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into my left leg.
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When I woke up, I was in the back of the van. I had been feeling pain,
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especially in my breasts and legs. As it was late at night now, the interior of
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the van was also dark. I figured the injection had changed me back into Kellie
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Martin. To check on this, I turned on the roof light in the van. My hand looked
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dark, but I figured that was somehow natural due to my being asleep so long and
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was squinting into the light. I took off my coat and T-shirt and found that my
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breasts and legs were, indeed, not those of the full-figured woman who had just
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won the Booby Trap Grand Amateurs Competition. I looked at my hands again,
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however, and they were not the fair pink hands of Kellie Martin.
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In disbelief, I slipped out of my bodystocking. Only then would I find the
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truth: Not only did my body look well-tanned, but my nipples were even darker! I
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noticed, too, that my hair was longer. It went down to the middle of my back. I
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tossed my hair around my shoulder to find that it was black and, well, very
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wavy. (I wouldn't call it curly.)
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Peter saw me in his rearview mirror and asked, "How do you like your body...
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LaTanya?"
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"Wh--LaTanya?" I said. I found that my voice wasn't the same. I crawled over
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to the grating that separated me from Peter (like that in a police car),
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noticing that my skin was getting even darker.
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"Yes. Your name is LaTanya Lucas. Usually, you work for AmeriBank-Detroit in
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the Renaissance Center. But now, you're one of the "Girls of the RenCen" in a
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Fuck Detroit Magazine pictorial. You get to pose nude all over Detroit, and its
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landmarks. They say the best one getsto be in a Detroit promotional advertising
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campaign. I see you like taking your clothes off already," he said.
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"This isn't real," I said to myself. "It must be a dream."
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"According to that papers I got from City Hall, you are 27 years old. Much
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closer to my age," he added. "And you've got a nice ass and legs, by the way."
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I turned around with curiosity to look at my ass. It was plump, like a baby's,
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and accounted for at least 3 extra inches on my hips. And my legs were longer
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than Kellie's, regular or full-figured. My skin had finally stopped darkening,
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now halfway between caramel and milk chocolate.
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"LaTanya, turn off the light. We'll be downtown in 20 minutes," Peter said. I
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did, and put my bodystocking back on. I curled up in Peter's coat, pressing my
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breasts against my knees.
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Over these 20 minutes, I wondered just what would happen. Fuck Detroit
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Magazine? Sounds hardcore, I thought. And after this photoshoot, what next?
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Would it be back to the Booby Trap?
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We arrived at the West River Hotel, where Peter told me how to answer every
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question the front desk would throw at me. After getting the key to my hotel
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room, Peter handed me a large bag and walked off. "I have other reservations.
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Have fun, 'Tanya," he said.
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I took the elevator to my room, which was on the top of the hotel. I opened
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the door to find a small slumber party. Three other young, African-American
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women were there to greet me. While they had been sampling their lingerie and
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swimwear, I got instant attention.
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"Hey, LaTanya, what's in the bag?" one of the three asked. It was then that I
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realized the stuff in it had to do with the Fuck Detroit shoot.
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TO BE CONTINUED: See what happens when our hero(ine) takes on Detroit, in
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Chapter 2!
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--
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