Before They Were Stars - Amy And Ali free porn video

Several events and locales depicted in this story are once again factual, while the remainder is pure fiction. Hopefully, you readers will enjoy both.

Constructive comments are always welcomed.

The ferry’s bell chimed three times, indicating our departure as I lowered my sunglasses and found a space along the port railing on the deck next to my car. I leaned on the rail and watched the other private sailboats, for-hire taxi boats, and assorted other watercraft jockeying for a position on a busy Lake Como.

“Ouch! Damn it,” I yelled as I felt the skin on my right calf being scraped open by something hard.

“Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace!”, the young girl cried.

It was obvious from her pronunciation that Italian was not her native tongue, but the sincerity of her apology translated perfectly.

I turned to face her and said, “Sei perdonato.”

The confused expression on the face of the girl, who I designated Blonde 1, and her companion, who I designated “Blonde 2” inspired me to take a chance, so I said, “Just try to be more careful with your bikes.”

I felt a trickle of warm liquid beginning to run down my calf. “Excuse me, I said to the two blondes as I wedged myself between them so that I could open the driver’s side door of my car. They moved fore and aft to give me space as I opened the door enough to lean into the car. I opened the center console and extracted a couple of tissues before standing back up and closing the door.

Stepping back to the rail of the ferry, I pressed the folded tissues against the scrape on my leg. I could tell that it was just a scratch and knew that the blood would clot within just a few minutes with a little pressure applied to the wound. The two blondes were still standing there, balancing their bikes and watching me.

Blonde 2 said, “Your English is very good.”

Blonde 1 nodded in agreement with her friend.

“As is yours,” I replied.

“You’re American, aren’t you?” Blonde 1 asked.

“As are you,” I said with a smile. “I detect a hint of New Jersey in your voice.”

Blonde 1 smiled and said, “Very good. My name is Ali, and I am originally from Cherry Hill, New Jersey.”

“Ali, huh? You don’t inspire visions of a dark, dank, brick wall lined passageway between two buildings, so I assume there is some other story behind your name.”

Laughing, Blonde 1 said, “It’s spelled A-L-I. It’s short for Alison.” She indicated her companion and said, “This is my friend, Amy.”

I glanced and Blonde 2 and studied her for a second before saying, “Amy is a much better name for you than the one I heard you being called before.”

“Excuse me?” said Amy with a confused expression that was matched by the one on Ali’s face. “Have we met before?”

“Not exactly,” I said in the most reassuring tone I could muster. “Last December you were at the Chart House restaurant with a guy who wasn’t acting much like a gentleman. The only name that I heard for you that evening was ‘Bitch’.”

Awareness and recognition ignited in Amy’s eye, “You’re the guy that had the valet escort Simon to his car rather than bringing it to him, and then you paid a taxi to take me home. I never got your name or a chance to thank you, so thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said. “My name is Steve. Steve Goldwyn.”

Ali spoke first, “It’s nice to meet you Steve, and I’m really sorry about hitting you with my bike. I was trying so hard to avoid scratching this beautiful car that I overcompensated on the other side and caught your leg with the pedal. I’m really sorry.”

“I’ve done worse to myself while shaving,” I chuckled.

“You shave your legs?” teased Amy.

“My, aren’t you the quick and feisty little thing,” I replied, eliciting a giggle from both young ladies. “So are you both planning to ride around Bellagio today?”

“No,” Ali said, “these are rentals that we’re returning. We had hoped to ride around portions of the Lake, but everyone is setting up for some annual bike race so the options on where we could ride were limited.”

I nodded and said, “That would be the Giro di Lombardia, or ‘Tour of Lombardy’. It will be run two days from today on Saturday. It begins in Varese and finishes in Bergamo this year. If you want to see it, I can recommend some excellent vantage points. On the other hand, if you want to avoid it, you could seek refuge in Bellagio like I am going to do.

Amy said, “I think that we’ll wait to read the book.”

Ali laughed at her friend’s comment and added, “We’re not very interested in watching other people ride bikes, even if it is in some famous race. We thought that we would just find a bed and breakfast or youth hostel in Bellagio for a few days to take in the sights on this side of the lake.”

I nodded and said, “It’s kind of late in the season for American students to be touring Europe, but with the race and several Oktoberfest events taking place right now around the lake, you might find it difficult to locate an available room. Here it is the middle of October, so I assume that either you are both taking some time off from your studies or you’re not students.”

“We’re currently living in Milan,” Amy informed me. “Ali and I are both between assignments for the next two weeks, so we decided to come up and see Lake Como and the area that we had heard so much about.”

Ali added, “We took the train from Milan into Como on Monday and we have been playing things by ear since then.”

“Assignments?” I asked, although I was pretty certain that I knew what type of assignments these two beauties would be referring to.

My assumption was confirmed when Ali said, “Amy and I work as fashion models. All of the photoshoots for the winter clothes have been completed and the assignments for the Spring season won’t start until the end of October.”

The short ferry ride from Mennagio on the western shore of Lake Como to Bellagio was coming to an end. I could see the quay as the ferry began turning to position the vehicle ramp on the bow to align with the concrete dock.

Ali and Amy also recognized our pending arrival into Bellagio. Amy asked, “How well do you know the town and could you offer us any suggestions on where we might find a room?”

I studied the two pleading expressions for a second before making a suggestion, “The bike rental shop is a block from the ferry quay on Via Lungo Lario Manzoni next to the bus stop. After you have returned your bikes, turn left out of the shop and cross the street. You’ll come to an alleyway that will lead you to a little wine bar called ‘Enoteca Cava Turacciolo’. Meet me there and I’ll buy you lunch then see if we can find suitable accommodations for you.”

The two girls looked at each other for a few seconds, as if silently communicating before Ali said to me, “Steve, can you hold my bike for a second while Amy and I discuss your offer?”

I nodded and placed my hand onto the handlebars to steady the bike as Ali stepped around me. Amy rolled her bike back about twenty feet and the two were soon in an animated conversation that I could not overhear. The two-ring notification from the ferry’s bell indicating that the docking was complete brought their conversation to an end.

Ali returned to me and took the bike back under her control as Amy acted as the spokesperson for the duo, “We’ll meet you, but we would like to buy your lunch instead, both as an apology for your injury as well as for your assistance with helping us to find someplace to stay.”

I simply winked at the two and watched them walking their bikes towards the ramp. They were both absolutely adorable specimens. As mentioned previously, both had blonde hair, with Ali’s a shade or two lighter than Amy’s. Ali had blue eyes while Amy’s were green. Ali was also an inch or two taller, but their near-identical body measurements made Amy’s figure appear slightly more proportional overall.

I climbed into my car but waited for most of the bikes and pedestrians to reach the ramp before starting the engine. As the car roared to life, every head around turned to see the source of the impressive sound.

The Ferrari 550 Maranello was unveiled this past July at the Nürburgring racing circuit in Germany. The car’s name referred to the 5.5-liters total engine displacement and the town of Maranello, home to the Ferrari headquarters and factory. Pininfarina manufactured both the exterior and interior components under their long-standing relationship with Ferrari. The car was a joy to drive, which I had been doing since it was entrusted to me at the factory last week.

I slowly drove the car off the ferry and found a parking place in the ferry terminal parking lot where I could leave the car until after lunch. I strolled through a couple of alleys that I knew as short-cuts and was entering the wine bar within minutes. The owner, Mario greeted me as warmly as ever. I have learned that favors are valuable commodities to have in reserve, and I had several in reserve with Mario.

“I’m expecting a couple of young ladies to join me for lunch,” I told Mario in perfect Italian. “Is the rooftop available for us?”

“Si, of course, my friend,” Mario said. “You go ahead and select the table that you want. I will escort your guests once they arrive. No other customers will be seated on the rooftop until you and your guests are finished.”

“Grazie amico mio,” I replied in appreciation. I exited onto the brick patio and climbed the wrought iron circular staircase to the rooftop that overlooked Lake Como. I thought for probably the dozenth time that it must have been a perilous feat for servers to carry trays up these stairs before Mario had the dumb waiter installed.

Mario’s stepdaughter, Sophia was adjusting the placement of silverware and napkins on the tables positioned around the rooftop. The breeze off the lake would take ownership of any linens that were not weighted down properly. Sophia must have heard my footsteps, or maybe she felt their vibration because she looked up and smiled in recognition.

“Finalmente!” Sophia exclaimed as she rushed over to warmly embrace me. “You are finally here to whisk me away to be your bride, si?”

Sophia had been using this standard greeting on me since she was thirteen, and it touched me as much today as the very first time. Now a grown woman, she had an angelic face atop an apple-shaped body. Her teasing about me marrying her was in direct contrast to her faith, her mature nature, and her commitment to her family. She had struggled for years with the choice of becoming a nun in the Catholic church, or her devotion to her family and this business.

“Sophia, amore mio,” I said as I kissed her cheeks, one after the other. “I fear that I am destined to live a life of lonely solitude until Mario accepts our love and allows us to marry. You know that I ask for your hand every time I see him.”

Sophia playfully slaps my chest and asks, “Stephan, you tease me too much sometimes. Which do you want today, the Buttercream Chardonnay or the Belvino Pinot Grigio?”

“Neither, I think. The sky is like summer today, so I believe a Tuscan Sangria is in order. What do you think?”

“An excellent choice,” Sophia said with admiration. “A picnic beverage for a picnic type of day.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “I am expecting some guests for lunch and I was thinking that some antipasti and an assortment of breads would be nice to share along with the sangria.

“The apple harvests are producing a fine crop this year,” Sophia said as she headed for the stairway. “I’ll have several sliced for you and your guests as well.”

“Thank you, Sophia.”

I walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the entrance to the alley from Via Lungo Lario Manzoni and saw two blonde girls just entering. Each was carrying a small duffle bag in their hand and had a daypack on their back. Their bags must have been in the cargo area of the ferry. They appeared apprehensive upon first entering the alley, but once they saw the doorway for the wine bar, I could see them noticeably relax. I walked over to the top of the circular stairway to await their ascent.

When I saw Mario escorting Ali and Amy towards the staircase, I yelled down, “Mario, ti preghiamo di tenere i bagagli.”

Requesting that Mario stow their luggage somewhere downstairs would prevent the girls from having to attempt the navigation of the circular stairway with only one hand to hold the rail and the weight of the packs on their back to throw off their balance.

Mario nodded at me and then spoke to my guests. They both seemed to comprehend what Mario had explained because they each took off their daypacks and left them at the foot of the stairs along with their duffle bags. As Amy reached the top of the stairway, I took her hand to help her step onto the roof, and then did the same when Ali reached the top.

Directing them to the table I had selected that offered the fullest panoramic view of the lake, I held a chair out for each of them before taking the seat that faced away from the lake, but held a better view in my opinion as two radiantly beautiful faces glowed under the early afternoon sun.

“Any problems returning the bikes?” I asked them.

“No problems at all,” Amy said with a grin. “The employees were very considerate, asking us if we needed a ride anywhere, offered to escort us to our hotel...”

Ali added, “I’m just glad that Amy stopped me before I let slip the fact that we don’t currently have a hotel. I can only imagine the offers we would have received from them then.”

I was facing the right direction to see Sophia come up the staircase and walk to the sliding door for the dumb waiter. Ali and Amy turned at the sound.

“I hope that you don’t mind, but I ordered us lunch while waiting for you,” I told them.

The two looked at each other before Amy spoke, “No, that’s fine, but remember that we’re buying you lunch today.”

I laughed and nodded agreement, then told them what to expect, “My dear friend, Sophia agreed with me that a beautiful day like today deserved a picnic. I took the liberty of requesting a Tuscan sangria be made for us. It’s light and fruity, but most important, it will be the perfect complement to the antipasti, breads, and fresh apples that Sophia will be serving us. I trust that you are both aware that the legal drinking age in Italy is sixteen.”

“We know,” said Amy. “We’re both twenty and have been drinking alcohol in Italy since we arrived.

“You look younger, but I figured that since you were traveling around without anyone else that you were at least over eighteen.” I said

They shared another look between them. Amy said, “Sangria sounds safe enough. Thank you.”

I must have been deficient in hiding my puzzlement over Amy’s reply because Ali tried to provide some clarity for me, “When you suggested that we meet you at a wine bar, Amy and I discussed which of us would refrain from consuming any alcohol...”

“But neither of you is driving,” I said.

Amy jumped in, “You probably wouldn’t understand. Things are different for guys traveling than with girls. If two guys get drunk together, they’ll probably be fine. Two girls getting drunk together would likely end up being taken advantage of. Ali and I always watch out for one another, so one of us always stays sober and never lets the other one out of her sight.”

I nodded again and said, “Now that you’ve explained it, I do understand. Furthermore, I am very impressed by the two of you being so mature and responsible to recognize the risks and take steps to minimize them for yourselves...”

Ali interrupted, “It’s not that we don’t trust you, because we do to a degree. I mean we agreed to meet you at someplace strange to us...”

This time Amy interrupted Ali, “I told Ali that you could have minded your own business last December, but you helped me out anonymously and without expecting anything in return. I believe that your offer to help us find a room here in Bellagio is also being done with no expectation on your part. I am right, aren’t I?”

“You are absolutely right,” I assured them. “If I can do something to assist fellow travelers, especially fellow Americans, I believe it is my duty to do so. Ah, here’s the sangria...”

Sophia had been standing patiently waiting for a break in the conversation before pouring the sangria and serving it to us. As she placed the first glass in front of me, she addressed my guests, “Ladies, I have known Stephan since I was twelve-years-old. You will not find a more considerate and trustworthy man than he.”

She leaned down and planted a kiss on my cheek, and then when serving Amy and Ali she added, “Nor a more handsome man. Believe me, I have tried.”

Amy took a drink and asked, “How old are you, Steve?”

Sophia answered on my behalf, “He is twenty-nine. He just acts years older.”

I laughed and said, “Grazie amore mio.”

Ali found her own inquisition bone and asked, “You seem to know a lot about Bellagio and the Lake Como area. Do you live here?”

“My family has had a villa on the lake for over eighty years,” I explained, “but my permanent residence is in Pacific Palisades in California.”

“So you’re wealthy,” Amy stated.

I shook my head and chuckled, “I come from a wealthy family and get to partake in some of the fruits of my ancestor’s labors. I earn a decent living in my own career which allows me to make a few small investments here and there, but I still need to work for a living if that answers your question.”

“What do you do?” Ali asked.

“I own my own commercial photography company, and before you ask, I do not do fashion photography, at least not clothing fashion,” I explained. “My clients are corporations that hire my company to help them develop advertising images that best portray their products or services. For example, the car that you saw on the ferry is the new Ferrari model that was just introduced. I am working on a portfolio of images of the car in settings around Lake Como, which is one of the reasons that I am here at this time.”

“What motivated you to get into photography?” Ali asked. She seemed genuinely interested.

“You could say that I was born with a camera in my hand,” I said with a wink and a smile. “Although it would have probably been a movie camera...”

Amy jumped in, “What did you say your last name was?”

“Goldwyn,” I replied. “My grandfather was Samuel Goldwyn, one of the founders of MGM Studios.”

“Okay,” Amy said, “back up here a second. I did a report on Samuel Goldwyn in high school. He only had one daughter and one son, so if you’re a descendant from Samuel Goldwyn and carry the Goldwyn name, I assume that Samuel Goldwyn Junior fits in here somewhere.”

I knew what was confusing to them, and Amy in particular, so I tried to explain, “My father is Samuel Goldwyn Junior. My mother is not one of his wives. My father’s infidelity while he was married to his first wife, Jennifer Howard, resulted in my conception and the end of that marriage. So, yes I am the half caucasian and half African American bastard son of Samuel Goldwyn Junior. My three older half-brothers insisted that I be afforded the same rights as them, which my father agreed to.”

The girls had been nibbling on items from the antipasti spread that Sophia had served us. When I joined them in sampling the various meats, cheeses, vegetables, and fruits, a companionable silence fell over the table. Ali or Amy would glance at me between eating and drinking to smile and nod in approval of the lunch that Sophia and I had selected.

Amy eventually asked, “What suggestions do you have for us for accommodations?”

I finished chewing the bite of bread in my mouth and washed it down with a drink from my glass of sangria before answering. “I thought that we would try the Miralago bed and breakfast on Via Pascello. If there are no rooms available there, you are welcome to stay in the guest house at my family’s villa which is across the street from Miralago.”

“While you are staying inside the villa itself?” Amy asked with a slight hint of suspicion in her tone. Ali gave a “be careful” glance at her friend but didn’t interrupt her.

I nodded and said, “Yes, while I would normally stay in the guest house if I was here by myself, I will be in the main house and allow you two to use the guest house. I was actually planning to stay in the main house anyway since I am expecting to have another guest for a couple of days.”

“How much will you charge us to stay in the guest house?” Ali asked.

I smiled and said, “The operative word in guest house is ‘guest’. If you choose to stay there, you will be my guests and no compensation from you would be accepted. You could either eat meals in the main house with me, or we could go shopping to allow you to prepare your own meals in the guest house kitchen.”

“Will you excuse us for a minute?” Amy asked, and I knew as she and Ali stepped away from the table and moved to the other side of the rooftop that she wanted to have a private conversation with Ali concerning my suggestions on their accommodations.

When they returned to the table, they didn’t take their seats. Amy asked, “Who else will be at the villa beside the three of us and possibly one other guest? I mean, are their staff there or other members of your family?”

I motioned towards their chairs, encouraging them to retake their seats. Ali did so willingly, but Amy was a bit more hesitant. When they were both seated and paying attention to me, I told them, “An old acquaintance of mine, Andrea Tafi is one of the favorites to win the Giro di Lombardia this year. He has asked if he could stay at the villa before the race, but he hasn’t committed to that plan yet. There is a full-time housekeeper who also serves as the cook, as well as a full-time groundskeeper. They both have separate living quarters above the garages.”

“So only six people will be there,” Amy confirmed, “if your friend shows up.”

“Actually staying at the villa, yes,” I said. “However, the villa is a popular location for filming movies and I use it as a backdrop for many of my photo campaigns for clients. I will have an assistant dropping by frequently over the next several days as I work on the photos for the Ferrari campaign and scenes for a movie are being filmed on the property at various times.”

“Will they need any extras,” Ali asked excitedly.

I debated how much to share with Amy and Ali about the type of movie that was being shot around the villa. I was certain that once they found out that the director was Lasse Braun and that the name of the film he was working on was “Diamonds are for Pleasure”, they would do everything possible to avoid the film crew entirely. I tried to divert their curiosity.

“Do you aspire to be an actress?” I asked Ali.

“We both do,” Ali said, nodding towards Amy. “We plan to move back to Los Angeles together in a few months to try breaking into either television or movies. Amy already has some contacts that will help line us up with an agent.”

“Going back to us possibly staying at the villa’s guest house,” Amy said, “we would like to find some way to repay your generosity. We’re more than capable of paying you something for letting us stay there.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Let me discuss it with my assistant when I see her and I might be able to find a way to use you both in the Ferrari campaign. You don’t have any exclusive contracts that would prohibit you from being in one of my photoshoots, do you?”

“No,” Amy said, “we’re completely open in that regard. Use us how?”

“I’m not sure just yet,” I confessed. “However, it might involve you wearing a variety of outfits, including swimwear. Are you both okay with that?”

“Amy rocks a bikini,” Ali giggled.

Amy smacked her friend’s arm and said, “And like you don’t.”

Turning to me, she added, “Topless is okay as long as it is artfully presented and is completely integrated into the concept of the image.”

I chuckled and said, “I find very few requests for topless images from my corporate clients. They feel it tends to detract from the product they are trying to sell.”

Amy glanced once more at Ali, who nodded in reply to some silent communication between them. “Okay,” Amy said. “We’ll check out this guest house of yours.”

Ali nodded again and asked, “Can we get the check so that we can pay for lunch?”

“There is no check,” I informed them. “I am a significant investor in this wine bar so my guests and I eat here for free. That’s why I chose it when you insisted on paying for lunch.”

Ali laughed, but Amy just grinned and said, “Maybe we should give your invitation some more thought. You can be a sneaky one.”

I let the two girls follow me down the stairway in case one of them slipped on the way. Fortunately, everyone made it to the bottom safely. After retrieving their bags and packs we all bid farewell to Mario and Sophia. I carried each of their duffle bags as they donned their daypacks and followed me back to the ferry terminal.

When we reached the Ferrari, I opened the trunk and we stored all of their belongings amongst the camera equipment already there. When I opened the passenger door, the two girls stood and looked at the interior of the car with questioning expressions.

“How’s this supposed to work?” Ali asked. “There are only two seats.”

“You’re both skinny enough,” I teased, “and we only have to drive a few miles. Ali, why don’t you get in first and spread your legs, and then Amy, you sit between Ali’s legs. The seatbelt will fit around both of you.”

Ali simply shrugged her shoulders and climbed onto the seat, spreading her legs as I had suggested. Amy watched her friend get settled and then negotiated placing herself between Ali’s legs without any difficulty. Their biggest challenge came with finding room for their four feet on the narrow floorboard. I pulled the seatbelt out so that Amy could bring it around her body and fasten it on the other side of the seat.

I closed their door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once situated, I put the key into the ignition and heard both girls gasp when the engine roared to life. Driving the Ferrari 550 Maranello on the streets of Bellagio was akin to walking a Cirneco Del Etna around a Greyhound track on a leash with the rabbit lures constantly being launched. The car strained to race as if it knew instinctively what it was designed and built for. I could see the disappointment in the eyes of bystanders as I navigated the narrow, curving streets with restraint.

“That’s Miralago up here on the right,” I informed my passengers as we approached the Bed and Breakfast on Via Pescallo. I didn’t expect them to still be interested in the place, but I did want them to know that had been truthful with them when describing its proximity to my family’s villa. This became even more evident as I turned left almost immediately after passing Miralago and pulled up to a security gate. I entered a code using the ten-key pad and waited for the gates to swing open.

I drove around the long circular driveway, passing several trucks, vans, and cars that had been pulled off and parked on the grass beside the drive. The drive forked just before rejoining the entry drive, with a right taking me to the parking pad and the carriage house with five garage bays and three apartments above them. None of the film crew were visible on the exterior of the house, so I assumed that they were filming interior scenes today. Good.

After exiting the car, I went around to open the door for Amy and Ali. Amy already had the seatbelt unfastened when I offered her my hand to assist her with climbing over Ali’s lap to exit the car. Since her feet were essentially wedged between Ali’s on the floorboard, swinging them out and standing could not be easily accomplished. I took a chance at offending her by placing my hands under her arms and easily lifting her out of the car. She couldn’t have weighed more than one-hundred and ten pounds and I could feel her toned body beneath her blouse. I set her down beside the car and proceeded to assist Ali by simply giving her my hand and helping her rise out of the seat to stand on her own.

“If we go anywhere else as a group,” I said, “we can take the Mercedes sedan in the garage. Let’s get your stuff to the guest house and then I’ll show you around.”

Ali and Amy once again each took their respective daypack as I shouldered both of their duffle bags and led them across a flagstone path to the secluded guest house. I pulled a key out of my pocket and unlocked the door, holding it open for my guests to enter. I pocketed the key and left the door open as I followed them inside.

“There are two bedrooms through that door, each with a queen-size bed and its own private bathroom,” I explained. “There is a private courtyard that overlooks the lake through the door on the other side of the kitchen. There is a table and chairs so that you can view the lake while taking your meals out there if you’d like.”

Amy and Ali gazed around the guest house with their mouths agape. “It’s beautiful,” Amy said.

“Oh, man! This place is spectacular,” agreed Ali.