"Hello?" She snapped into the phone. She was pissed. Bill had cancelled their big date at the last minute, and she was both disappointed and horny. If this was Bill calling back to reschedule, he could shove it.
"Uh... hello?" came the unknown man's voice, obviously taken aback by her tone. "Is this California Hardbodies?"
"Yeah, sure," she said. This had to be a friend playing some gag on her. She was trying to identify the voice, but didn't have a clue. "Who is this?"
"Well... this is Tom Perriman. Um... we have a girl scheduled to come to our stag party tonight. At ten-thirty?"
"Yes?" She'd go along until she figured out what the gag was.
"Well, one of the guys just told us he's going to have to go home early. We just found out. Jeff's the guest of honor, see, so it would mess everything up if he's not there. He's getting married tomorrow."
"Uh-huh." She couldn't see where this joke was going.
"So what we're wondering is, could the girl come earlier, say at nine? I realize this is terribly short notice."
If this was a gag it wasn't going anywhere. The guy sounded sincere, really concerned that his party would be ruined. Maybe this really was a wrong number. She decided to play along.
"Nine o'clock tonight? It's seven-thirty now."
"I know. I'm sorry. Look, if you can do it we'll double your fee. The guys talked it over and everybody agreed we can do the six hundred."
"Six hundred?" she gasped. "Um, how long was it for?"
"Just the one hour, like we agreed."
"Um, just a moment, please." She pressed the phone to her chest and thought. This guy was for real. He wanted a girl to dance for his party, and was willing to pay six hundred bucks an hour for it. Damn, for that money she'd do it herself! But she had to know more about this deal.
"Mr. Perriman? Our regular dispatcher is out sick tonight..."
"Yeah, I talked to somebody else before."
"Uh, yes. So I'm just filling in. Anyway, I can't seem to locate your records. Could you just remind me who was coming out?"
"Gee, I'm not sure of her name. Cindy, or something like that, I think she said. But it was the Bachelor Special. A one-hour dance and the deluxe strip tease."
"The deluxe what?" she asked with a gulp.
"Yeah. You know. Down to the skin. No G-strings or anything."
"Ah, yes. The deluxe. Just confirming your order, sir. Was there anything else?"
"Well, the other girl said there'd be some special stuff afterwards. They said she'd bring some toys, but I don't know what. Maybe some limited touching."
"Touching? You get to touch m... the dancer?"
"Well, yeah. That's what the girl said. Isn't that part of the deluxe strip? The guys were real excited about that. I hope that's still all right?"
"Uh, limited touching. Um, yes, I'm just getting this down. I... I guess that'll be okay."
"Oh, great."
"But no sex, right?"
There was a moment's pause on the other end of the line. "Lady, you tell me. Prostitution's illegal, right?"
"Oh, yes, sir. Just clarifying our policy. And what was the address again?"
"2148 Prospect Circle. It's in Cumberland Heights."
Cumberland Heights, she thought as she wrote it down. A very upscale neighborhood, and not twenty minutes away. She realized she'd already made her decision. Her mind started racing, trying to think what she would need. Music, of course.
"And did you say you had a sound system in the room, Mr. Perriman? Do you think you could pick out some rock with a good beat?"
"Yeah, we can do that. Does that mean you can do it?"
Her heart suddenly jumped into her throat. She gulped.
"Yes," she said. "I think I can do it."
"Oh, great! Hey guys, they can do it! Oh thanks, lady, you're a lifesaver. Thanks a lot. What's her name?"
"Who?" she asked, thinking about what the hell she was going to do.
"The girl. The girl who's going to come strip for us."
"Oh. Her. Um... let's see, I think... yes, Maggie should be available."
"Is she cute?"
"Oh. Yes. I think you'll be pleased."
"What's she like? Does she have great tits?"
"Listen, sir, if you want m... her out there at nine, I'm going to have to call Maggie up."
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay, we'll be waiting. Just have her ring the doorbell exactly at nine. We'll make sure Jeff answers the door. See, he doesn't know anything about the stripper. Is she going to be dressed pretty hot?"
"Hot? Oh, yes, sir, she'll be hot all right."
"Great. Okay, we'll be here. And thanks a lot, lady."
She hung up in a daze and stood looking at the phone. Did that really happen? Moreover, was she really going to do it? For six hundred dollars? Hell, yes. Now she really did have to "call Maggie up."
Actually, she had tried stripping a few times -- in private, of course. One of her boyfriends, Paul, was really into strippers. He was always begging her to do it for him. Finally she'd given in and bought some outrageous costumes. She'd affected a persona that made it easier to forget her self-consciousness: Hot Maggie, the girl who would do anything. One night, rather drunk, she tried it. He loved it, and she found that it turned her on as much as it did him. Paul had said she was a natural, praising her dancing and her moves. For a while it was their thing, a prelude to sex. They hadn't stayed together long, but she'd kept the costumes. She'd even done it once or twice since for other lovers.
But that had all been in the privacy of her bedroom, with only her lover watching. Of course, while she was doing it she'd fantasized about being on stage in a nightclub in front of lots of men, but it had all been in her head. The costumes had been hanging at the far end of her closet for a couple of years now. Maybe it was time for Maggie to come out of the closet.
She glanced at her watch as she headed for the bedroom. Shit, it was ten to eight already. Fortunately, she'd been all dressed up for the date with Bill, so at least she had her make-up on. She started peeling off clothes as she walked. She stood in front of her closet, staring thoughtfully at her clothes. What does one wear to a strip tease? Does it really matter, if you're just going to take it all off anyway? Of course it mattered. It was a strip, not just standing there naked. The clothes were the act, more or less. And it was also a tease, so it should take a while. They wanted to see skin, but they wanted to see it gradually. So the clothes were very important.
She pulled out her stripper stuff. It was on six hangers, but weighed about one ounce total. The first thing her eye fell on was the pair of crotchless panties. Immediately she felt a blush warm her face. She remembered how she'd looked in them. They were white lace, and her lips had hung right out of the slit, making them look even bigger and pinker than usual. They'd driven Paul absolutely crazy. She remembered how they'd fucked with the panties on. Wow, she was getting hotter by the minute, and she wasn't even out the door.
She stretched the panties out and the slit gaped wide. Would she actually have the nerve to wear these in front of a bunch of strangers? My God, what was she thinking? She'd be wearing less than that in about an hour. She slipped the panties on and pulled them up tight, then turned to look at herself in the mirror. Yup, there she was, with her cooze hanging out in front of God and everybody. At first glance it looked like she had a brownish-pink rose decorating her panties. But then when you realized what you were looking at, it was incredibly sexy. The material pressed in on her vulva on either side, making them pout through the slit like the lips of a mouth. The inner lips protruded prominently, standing out bright pink against the gleaming white lace. She looked more naked than when she was naked.
Well, if she was going to wear these, she'd have to wear the matching bra -- the flimsy little thing with the cutout nipples. She slipped it on and looked at herself again in the mirror. She tugged it this way and that, arranging it so each nipple was exactly centered in a ring of delicate little lace flowers. She noticed how hard her nipples were. She pinched them lightly and shivered at the rush of sensation that shot through her. The bra was thin and transparent and gave little support, but it squeezed her breasts into sharp cones. The tips bulged through the openings, further accentuating her nipples.
She took a moment to look at the overall effect. Except for the lace trim, the underwear was nearly transparent. It looked a bit like she was naked but with whipped cream around her pussy and nipples. That sent her off on another fantasy. No time for that now.
What next? A dress? No, too soon. She needed the layered look if this was going to be more than a two-minute act. She wanted the stripping part to take up most of the hour, and maybe she could skip the "limited touching" part. One of the other stripper outfits had a bra and panties of shiny black silk. They were tiny, but bigger than what she had on. She put them as well. The panties covered the crotchless ones nicely. Neither one had much more than a string over her hips and down the back.
Now the dress? No. She didn't want to be this close to naked when she took the dress off. What then? She looked at the red silk underwear she'd just taken off. Normally she thought it was pretty skimpy, sexy stuff, but it looked rather modest compared to what she had on. The panties were really high cut and the bra was strapless and underwired to push her boobs up and together. It sure looked great under clothes. She wondered how it would look over the rest. She glanced at her watch. Eight oh five. No time for indecision. She slipped them on and checked the mirror.
Hmm. Not bad. It covered everything else up. And the push-up was definitely right. Now she had some real cleavage. What she liked best about this bra was that it left the whole upper side of her breasts bare, so she could wear really low-cut outfits. Also, her boobs were lifted up nicely but weren't all mashed into it so they could move around. She put her hands on her hips and bounced up and down on her toes. Yup. They jiggled very nicely.
The only problem now was that she looked a little bit too conservative. She'd been to the beach in suits that showed more than this. Strippers usually start in some outrageous outfit with sequins and boas and stuff, then go down to tassels and G-strings. She thought that look was cheap, rather like a hooker. But what she had on looked more like what a good-looking young woman might wear under a party dress. Nothing tawdry, nothing sleazy.
That was it! She'd wear the little black dress she'd had on to go dancing with Bill. Lord knows, it was sexy enough -- very short, low-cut, and incredibly tight around her hips and bottom. She'd show up not looking like a stripper, but like a girl going out for an evening. It would seem as if she were just joining the men for a party. Then when she started to strip, it wouldn't be like she was a paid performer, just a pretty lady getting loose. It might make it all even sexier.
She pulled the dress on and tugged the zipper up. It fit like a second skin around her ass. She slipped on her heels and twirled in front of the mirror. Not bad at all. She looked very sexy, but not cheap. You'd never suspect that she was ready to take it all off for a bunch of men she'd never ever seen. In just about forty minutes, she realized with a nervous twinge.
She rushed into the bathroom, quickly teased her hair up. Men like big hair. She touched up her make-up, then put on a shiny pink lipstick that fairly sparkled against her blonde hair. There. Was she ready?
Toys! He'd said something about toys. What the hell kind of toys did they mean? He didn't seem to know, so she guessed it was up to her. But what? Whips and chains? Forget that crap. A vibrator? She found it in the back of a vanity drawer, switched it on. Nothing. Must be the batteries. No time, no time.
Time to improvise. She wandered from room to room, hoping to get inspired. Flower vase? Telephone? Toilet brush? She was supposed to be a creative professional woman, able to think on her feet. Right now she couldn't think of a thing. She reached the kitchen and her eye fell on a bowl of fruit. Bananas? Maybe. The shape was right. She grabbed two of the nicer ones.
She opened the fridge and saw a can of whipped cream she'd bought for lattés after the date tonight. Her mind went back to the image of being decorated in whipped cream. Oh, yes. She tucked it under her arm. Just as she was closing the door, she noticed a jar of cherries in the door shelf. What was whipped cream without cherries? She grabbed it and tucked it under her chin, pushed the door shut with her hip. She dumped it all in a grocery bag. No time for anything better. Maybe it would add to the impression of being just a nice girl going to a party, bringing some noshes like a good guest. She glanced up at the kitchen clock. Yow -- eight thirty already. She had to get out of here.
She realized suddenly that she didn't have to go through with this. Of course she'd promised, but it was only a wrong number after all. That guy Tom didn't have a clue who she really was or how to reach her again. She could just forget the whole thing. She looked at herself in the hall mirror. She looked hot, really excited. She could feel the excitement fluttering in her belly, in her legs, her dry mouth. She realized she had no desire to forget it. Besides, she didn't want to ruin poor Jeff's party.
She grabbed the address and her purse, picked up the grocery bag, and went out. She wondered what was going to happen tonight. Would she have the nerve to really do it, or would she chicken out? She shrugged, turned the key. Only one way to find out.
She put the stuff in the car and slid behind the wheel. Ooh, those crotchless panties felt really strange when she slid across the seat. She felt the opening squeezing her lips together, the edges of the lace moving against her sensitive inner lips. Strange, but sexy. It made her very aware of her genitals. The slightest motion of her bottom against the seat was transmitted straight to her pussy. She'd never worn these things outside before -- maybe she'd been missing something.
She drove to Cumberland Heights and found the street with no trouble. Big houses, wide lawns, not many cars parked on the street. She searched until she saw the number, then cruised slowly past the house. Modern, brick, tasteful. Nice, but not ostentatious. Four sedans in the circular drive, two of them Beemers. The sight of the cars suddenly made her nervous again. Who were these guys? She didn't know a thing about them. Tom had sounded nice and non-threatening, but what did she know? What was she walking into?
She saw the front curtains move and a face peered out as she rolled slowly past. The porch light came on. They were obviously watching for her anxiously. For some reason she was reassured. It reminded her of high school, waiting for a date to pick her up. She drove out of sight of the house, parked, then turned off the engine and sat there thinking. There was still nothing to stop her from just driving home and forgetting the whole thing. She didn't owe these guys anything. But Tom had been so boyishly excited about it, so concerned his friend wouldn't get his stripper. And she knew if she went home she would always wonder what would have happened if she'd gone through with it.
Well, she still wasn't convinced she could go through with it, but thinking about it and getting dressed for it had sure gotten her hotter than a blowtorch. Her pussy was burning with excitement, and every time she moved or clenched her bottom, that damn lace rubbed on it. Damn, she was hot!
She realized her mind was already made up. She wanted this now. She was probably just as eager to start the show as those guys were. Her eyes flicked to the dashboard clock. One minute till nine. She glanced at her face in the rear-view mirror. She looked excited. Her eyes were wide and bright, her nostrils were flared, her lips red and swollen. Here we go, then, she told her reflection. From now on, she was Hot Maggie.
She walked back to the house and up the driveway, her heels loud on the pavement in the still night air. She went up the flagstone walk and stepped up onto the porch. The doorbell glowed orange. She put her finger on it, but then hesitated, her heart in her throat. What the hell did she think she was doing? This was the stupidest thing she'd ever done; she had to get out of here. She started to take her hand away, but then a shudder went through her, either of fear or excitement, and her finger brushed the button.
A chime sounded in the house and the door was opened almost instantly. Light, music, and warm air flowed out, enveloping her. A young man stood there, a drink in his hand, a surprised look on his face. His eyes flicked down to her long bare legs, paused a moment at her breasts, then returned to her face. He smiled shyly when he realized she'd noticed his quick scan.
"Yes?" he said. His voice was soft, polite, amused, interested.
"Hi, I'm Maggie," she said, and instantly the whole scenario fell into place in her mind. "I'm an old friend of Tom's," she ad-libbed. "I'm only in town for two days and I gave Tom a call earlier. He told me about the party. I know it's a bachelor party, but I really didn't want to leave without seeing him. Do you mind?"
Another man came up behind him, his face a careful mask of innocence.
"Tom," said the first man. "She says she's a friend of yours. Where have you been hiding her?"
"Hi, Tom," she said quickly. "Bet you didn't expect to see old Maggie here. Hope you don't mind if I crash your party for a little while. I can't stay more than an hour, so I won't spoil your friend's party."
Tom caught on right away. He grinned at her. "Maggie! What a surprise!" His eyes dropped to her breasts and returned to her eyes with a widening smile. Apparently he was satisfied with her "great tits." "You look great, Maggie. Just great. Come on in."
She stepped into the living room. Tasteful, nicely decorated. White walls, spare but comfortable furniture. Four men were standing by a roaring fireplace. Young Urban Professionals, not bad looking. Each held a drink and was looking at her expectantly. She smiled at them.
"Hi, guys. Gee, this is the first time I've ever been to a bachelor party."
They smiled, mumbled hellos. They looked more nervous than she felt. It reassured her.
"I brought some stuff for the party," she said, handing the sack to Tom. "I couldn't come empty-handed to a party. I'd feel naked." Tom almost choked, and there were several chuckles. Tom glanced into the sack and his eyebrows went up, but he didn't say anything. He took it over to the wet bar and set it on the counter.
"Can I get you something, Maggie?" he called over his shoulder.
"Yes, please. Whiskey on the rocks?" He started to make it -- Chivas, of course.
"Can you introduce me to your friends, Tom?"
"Oh, sure, I'm sorry. From left to right, this is Sam, Chet, John, and Dave. That's Jeff by the door. He's the one getting married tomorrow. Guys, this is Maggie."
"Hi Sam, Chet, John, Dave, and Jeff. As long as you don't move, I'll be able to remember your names."
They chuckled, continued to look at her expectantly. Tom brought her drink and she took a healthy swallow. Yum, she needed that. She was very aware they were all watching her. No one spoke. Obviously they were waiting for her to start it. Okay.
"So this is it?" she asked. "All these centuries women have wondered what went on at a stag party, and this is it? A bunch of guys standing around drinking? This party needs some picking up. How about some good loud rock'n'roll?"
"Good idea," said Tom, a bit too eagerly. He hit a button on the stereo. The Stones. Not bad. At least Charlie Watts knew how to lay down a beat. She sauntered over to the stereo, putting a little extra wiggle in her walk. She bent down, leaning on her elbows to read the label on the CD case. She felt her skirt ride up her thighs and tighten across her ass. She knew her ass was one of her best features. She stayed like that, rocking her hips to the music, giving them a chance to get a good look. They were polite enough not to stare when she was looking, and she wanted to give them a chance to really look her over. It excited her to think they were admiring her figure, imagining what she would look like naked, especially since they knew that she would soon be showing it all to them.
She straightened up and turned around, leaning back against the counter. No one had moved, except Jeff had settled into an easy chair. They were all just watching her.
"Boy," she said. "For a bunch of old farts, those guys can really rock out. Sure makes you want to dance, doesn't it? Any of you good-looking guys want to dance with me?"
Eyes flicked back and forth, but no one said anything. John and Dave took simultaneous sips of their drinks, avoiding her eyes.
"How about you, Jeff? This may be your last chance to dance with a strange woman."
Tom elbowed Jeff. "Yeah, go ahead, Jeff. Maggie's a great dancer if I remember right."
Jeff looked embarrassed. "Oh, I dunno. Seems kind of selfish to dance with only one woman here," he mumbled.
"Don't be shy, Jeff," she said. "It's your party."
"Yeah, Jeff," said Chet. "Don't mind us. Go on. Don't keep a lady waiting."
Jeff was still reluctant. She danced over to him and gyrated seductively right in front of him. She bent low, giving him a good look down the front of her dress. He looked embarrassed, but he looked. But he still wouldn't get up. The track ended and a ballad started.
"Hey, a slow number," she said. "You can at least slow dance with me, can't you?" She bent and pulled him up by both hands. He reluctantly got up, and immediately she moved forward, pressing the whole length of her body against him. His hands finally came around her, holding her tight. Hmm, not bad. He had a nice firm athletic body and he smelled good.
They started swaying together, just shuffling their feet. At least he could move to the beat. She edged a foot between his, which pushed her hip against his belly. She could feel his hardness against her thigh. His hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her harder against him and flattening her breasts against his chest. His hip pressed on her pubis as they moved. She lay her head down on his shoulder. She felt him inhale, breathing in the scent of her hair. Hey, this was nice.
She raised her head and caught Tom's eye over Jeff's shoulder. He gave her a significant look that she took to mean that he was okay with this, but when was the show going to start? She was wondering too. How was she going to start? Just start taking stuff off? She'd imagined a drunk, rowdy party, guys yelling encouragement. But this was a nice sedate little party. One didn't just start taking your clothes off at a party like this. But she was supposed to, and time was wasting. She only had an hour. She had to liven this party up.
Just then the song ended and another loud rocker started up. He started to pull away, but she just hung on and wouldn't let him go. He didn't fight it. She picked up the tempo, gyrating around but without breaking the clinch. His hands slipped down and clutched her ass. An idea came to her, and she suddenly bent her knees, lowering herself several inches. As she had hoped, his grip pulled her skirt up, leaving her ass exposed. No fool, he shifted his hands down again, but this time only her thin panties lay between his hands and her bare skin.
"Mmm. Oh, yes," she murmured into his neck. "That feels good." She felt him growing harder against her hip. He was really getting into her ass -- squeezing her cheeks together, pulling them apart, lifting them, cupping them, kneading them. She felt herself getting wet, especially when she thought of the other guys behind her, watching every move of his hands.
Finally she stepped away from him. His hands dropped to his sides, but she could see them twitching, still feeling her flesh against his palms. She tugged her skirt back down.
"Whew!" she said. "You're getting me hot, Jeffie." It was true. She put her hands behind her head and lifted her hair high, letting the air cool her damp neck. The position lifted her breasts so they looked as if they might spill out of her dress any second. Jeff stared at her, breathing hard. Surely he must suspect something was going on, but he didn't say anything. Time for her to make her move.
"Damn it, Jeff," she said. "Look what you've done to me. I'm burning up even in this little dress. I know it's just a tiny little thing, but you'd be surprised how hot it is. Look how I'm sweating." She leaned forward so he could see the gleam of sweat running down between her breasts. "Would anybody mind if I got a little more comfortable?"
No one did. She turned around. Tom and the others were watching intently, their drinks hanging forgotten in their hands. She winked at Tom and backed up close to Jeff. "Would you mind unzipping me, Jeffie?" she asked in her sweetest little-girl voice. "It's so hard to reach it myself."
Then she just waited. There was a pause, and then she felt his fingers fumbling at her back. There was a long slow zipping sound, very soft, but she was sure every person in the room heard it. The dress loosened around her ribs, fell away from her breasts. She turned around to face Jeff. He was staring at the red lace peeping now from the top of her dress.
"Thanks. That feels better already." She slipped her hands down inside the bodice of her dress and slowly pushed it down to her waist. She heard or felt a collective sigh from all the men. Her breasts, lit to a red-gold color by the firelight, bulged from the top of the bra. The scarlet lace glowed, seeming to light the room. Jeff's eyes fell to her chest and stayed locked there. She felt her own temperature rising again.
She pushed the tight skirt down over the top of her hips, taking care not to slide her panties down with it. She made a show of working the dress over the swell of her hips, doing considerably more hip rocking and bending than was really necessary. When her dress was free, she let it fall. It rustled down her legs to her feet and she stepped out of it. There. She'd done it. The air was cool on her thighs, but she was only conscious of all those hot eyes moving all over her.
"Oh, that's more comfortable. I hope you boys aren't offended, but you all seem so nice that I just feel relaxed around you. Now I'm comfortable I feel like dancing some more. Tom, do you think you could find some more music?"
Tom hurried over to the stereo. She sauntered casually over to the bar and retrieved her drink. She stood there in her scarlet underwear and high heels and took a long swallow, intensely aware of them watching her. She hadn't really done very much yet. She wasn't showing any more skin than the lingerie ads in the newspapers. But they seemed very appreciative, and she liked that. She enjoyed having them look at her, especially knowing she was planning to show them a lot more. Another hard-rocking song started.
"God, I love this song," she said. "I just have to dance, even if nobody dances with me." She walked over in front of the fireplace and started to dance.
She was surprised how relaxed she felt. She was terribly excited, but not nearly as nervous as she had expected. The men seemed nice enough, certainly not threatening. And she really did love to dance. Dancing in a bar or club always smacked of exhibitionism. She liked to look good, have men watch her dance. Well, now she had a captive audience and she could do absolutely any damn thing she wanted. And she wanted to crank it up. She wanted to be even more excited. Time to pick up the pace.
She danced over to the fireplace and stood with her legs apart, her hips swinging to the beat. She reached behind her back to the catch of her bra. She could feel the tension in the room go up. She unhooked it but held the ends, twirling around and around to tease them. When the music reached a cadence, she let it go. The elastic straps whipped around her ribs and the bra literally jumped from her breasts and fell to her feet.
No longer pushed up, her breasts dropped into the thin black bra. They wobbled and swung heavily as she danced, which she accentuated by bending forward and shaking her shoulders. While the men's eyes were fixed on her tits, she reached down to her hips and made sure her fingers were hooked under the red panties only. She spun around, pushing her bottom out toward them and swinging it back and forth. Then she ever so slowly rolled the scarlet panties down over her ass. She could feel all their eyes burning on the skin of her ass. She was trembling with excitement, but had no desire to stop. She slid the rolled-up panties down her thighs to her ankles, then bent and lifted them over her high heels. She stood a moment with the shred of red silk dangling from her fingers, then tossed them away. She stood up and raised her arms high over her head and danced like that to the end of the track.
When the music stopped there was a pause in the action. Tom hurried over to the stereo to change the CD. She sauntered easily over to the bar and took another sip from her drink. She was really hot now. She rolled the cold glass across her forehead, her cheeks. No one said anything, but she could feel their eyes moving over her nearly naked body as she stood there. It felt strange to be standing there like that while all of them were fully dressed, but it added to the thrill. She wiped the wet glass across the top of her breasts and felt a trickle of icy water run down between them.
Wham, boom! A Led Zeppelin track started. Wow! Tom thought it was time to crank it up, too. She set down her drink and almost leaped out to the center of the room. For a while she just concentrated on her dancing, putting on some of her best moves. She twirled and spun, letting the music move her. She felt wild and free, able to do anything. Halfway through the first track, she brought her right arm across her breasts and with the other unhooked the black bra. She reached up in front and pulled the bra out from under her right arm. The material slipped over her bare nipples, then they were pressed against the soft inside of her arm. My God, they were as hard as wooden buttons! She shifted her hands until she was cupping her breasts in her palms.
She danced for a few minutes like that, making them wait. She moved up close in front of Jeff and was just about to drop her hands when the track stopped. In the silence before the next cut, she couldn't help moving her hands in slow circles, massaging her nipples. It really turned her on to be stroking herself like this right out in public. Not only was it exciting to her, but she could see the effect it was having on Jeff. She couldn't wait to see what he'd do when he saw her nipples poking out of the bra at him.
The music started again. This was the time. She slowly drew her hands away to the side, pulling her breasts apart. Then her nipples slipped from under her fingers and sprang free. The tips of her breasts bulged from the little white rings of lace flowers encircling her reddened nipples. They looked very shameless and naughty, but also very soft and vulnerable.
She danced around the room, moving close to each one of the men in turn, giving them a good look. She was positively burning with lust. It felt so damned great to be dancing like this, next to topless. But the bra still held her breasts against her chest. She didn't want to be restrained at all; she wanted to feel totally free. Impulsively, she reached down between her breasts and ripped the thin material. She tore the bra off and threw it away. She felt and saw her breasts bounce free, and was suddenly filled with the exhilaration of complete freedom.
She danced wildly, spinning with her arms thrown wide, jumping high in the air. Her breasts were bouncing around like pillows. She stepped up close to Jeff and shook them right in his face. God, this was great! Now she wanted it all.
She stood toe-to-toe with Jeff and reached up as high as she could, stretching her whole body. Then she slowly brought her arms down. Her hands crossed in front of her face and came down on her breasts. Still in the same continuous motion, she stroked down her breasts, over her ribs, her belly, and her waist. As her hands slid over the points of her hips, she slipped the tips of her pinkies under the string of her panties. Her hands smoothed down the length of her thighs, peeling down the black panties. She bent forward to push them down her legs and stole a glance at her crotch. Geez, there was her pussy, right there. Her lips were pouting through the slit in the white panties, looking very pink and very wet.
She stepped out of the black panties and hesitated a moment. The track ended and the room was suddenly silent. Then, making a conscious effort to keep from throwing her hands across in front of her, she straightened up. Jeff's mouth was hanging open. He leaned forward to get a closer look, his nose not a foot from her bare pussy. She burned with embarrassment. There was no place to put her hands. She wanted the music to start again, just to give her something to do.
Then it did. With relief she danced away across the room, but of course whichever way she turned there was another guy standing there gaping at her. They seemed completely hypnotized. Once as she crossed the room she caught a look at herself in a mirror in the hall. The men all stood around her fully dressed, while she cavorted about in nothing but crotchless panties. Her breasts were bouncing around wildly. Now the panties seemed like a last barrier, a pretension of avoiding nudity. She didn't want them on any more, she wanted to know how it would feel to be completely naked.
She pulled them down, feeling them peel away from her pussy. The edges of the lace drew tight around her labia so it felt as if someone were tugging on them. She pulled the string down out of her crack and let the panties hang like that for a second, held up only by her cunt pushed through the slit. She gave them a tiny tug, and they pulled free. She stood up straight and let them whisper down her legs. She stepped out of them. That was it. She was completely naked.
Wow, what a rush! Every one of the men stood there staring at her as if paralyzed. Here she was -- naked, defenseless, totally vulnerable -- and yet she had all the power. She was the center of attention, the focus of all that desire and lust. She could do whatever she wanted, or make them do whatever she wanted, and everyone in the room knew it. She was in complete control, and it was the sheer force of her beauty, her female sexuality, that made all these big strong men want to grovel at her feet. It was her womanhood that gave her that power, and it made her proud and excited to see the effect she had on them.
And to think she'd considered strippers to be degraded and exploited! If anything, she was exploiting the men. And they were actually paying her to do it!
She danced and spun around the room, feeling freer under their burning stares than she ever had in her whole life. The air of the room was positively thick with sexual tension, and it all emanated from her! She wanted it to go on, she wanted to turn it up even higher. But what could she do? How could she take them higher?
Then her eye fell on the grocery bag on the bar counter. Perfect. She walked over to the bar and took out the can of whipped cream. She shook it as she walked back to the center of the room. No one said anything, but she felt the tension crank up another notch.
She walked over in front of Jeff and stood close to him. She popped the top of the can off and offered him the can.
"Here, Jeff," she said. Her voice cracked and she realized how tight her throat was. Damn, she was just as hot as the men were! He took the can and looked at her.
"What should I do?" he asked shyly.
"Do my tits," she replied. "Do 'em good."
"Are you sure? It's going to be cold."
"Do it."
"Well, okay." He inverted the can and held the nozzle up to her left nipple. The other guys moved over beside him to watch. He pressed the nozzle.
Yow, it was cold! She flinched but didn't back away as he applied a little round dollop of cream right on her nipple. Cold, but it felt good, too. And it looked so outrageous like that, like a tit sundae or something.
"Is that okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she breathed. "I like it. Do more."
He made another circle around the first, enlarging the white cap to cover the whole end of her breast. She could feel the cold air spraying from the can on her skin. The other guys just stared hungrily.
"Do the other one," she said. Her voice sounded so husky she could hardly recognize it as her own.
Jeff shifted the can to her right breast and made a little pasty for that one too. Then, without being told, he connected them with a thin ribbon of cream. "Yeah, make me a bra," she laughed. She raised her arms over her head and turned in a slow circle as he sprayed a strip all the way around her. It looked exactly like a frilly white bikini top.
"Now do my pussy." It seemed strange to say the word in front of all these strange men, but the freedom turned her on. "Spray it on my cunt," she said, deliberately increasing the effect of the words. "Get down on your knees to do it."
Jeff knelt in front of her. Having his face down there just inches from her pussy excited her still more, but she realized part of the turn-on for her was the way she could just tell him what to do and he'd do it instantly. Maybe she could get into a dominatrix role. Several fantasies drifted through her mind.
Her thoughts were snapped back to the present by a blast of whipped cream right on her pussy lips. She jumped back with a squeak.
"Oh, I'm sorry," exclaimed Jeff, looking very contrite. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
She laughed. "It doesn't hurt, silly. It's just cold. Do some more. Make me a thong bikini."
He sprayed a little more on her pussy, the cream riding out on her thatch of hair. He made straps up over her hips, then she turned around so he could do the back. She giggled as he ran a line right down her crack.
"Oh, that tickles," she laughed.
He stepped back to admire his handiwork and she did a slow pirouette to show off her new look. She couldn't keep the grin off her face. She felt completely comfortable now. It was still just as exciting, but she didn't feel nervous any more. She felt perfectly free, released from all inhibitions and restraints. This wasn't tawdry or degrading, it was good clean fun. She was playing a game women have enjoyed from time immemorial -- being looked at, being admired, being desired. She struck a calendar girl pose, and the men chuckled. That was better -- a lighter mood. This was a party -- these guys were here to enjoy themselves, not just stand gawking. Time to involve them more actively in the game.
She sauntered casually back to the grocery bag, exaggerating her hip-swinging walk. Her breasts bounced with her stride, causing the whipped cream bra to slip a little. She laughed, and they laughed with her. She felt great, and as hot as a branding iron. She pulled out a banana and held it up. Hmm. Definite possibilities. There were chuckles behind her, and suddenly she knew what she was going to do.
She walked back into the center of the room, slowly peeling the banana. They all watched her as she sensuously licked the banana, but didn't take a bite. Then she brought it down to her breast. Using the tip of the banana, she gently swiped off a line of whipped cream from the tip of her breast. Her nipple appeared, looking bright red against the snowy cream around it. She brought the banana to her lips, opened them wide, and took it deep into her mouth. One of the guys groaned as the banana emerged clean and wet and gleaming from her ruby lips. She put it down to her breast again.
This time she circled around the nipple, letting it stroke all around the sides of her very erect nipple. As it went around it cleaned off a larger circle, leaving her nipple and the tip of her breast shining. She shivered at the sensation, and the men saw the tremor go through her body. They could see she was just as excited as they were.
This time she held the banana out to Jeff. He leaned forward eagerly and sucked it clean. "All right, Jeffie!" said Tom. They all laughed. She brought the banana back and cleaned off the rest of her breast, then walked over and offered it to Tom. He didn't hesitate a second. She wiped off her other breast and gave three other guys a taste. The last one, Chet, looked disappointed. She smiled at him, then walked over to him and turned her back.
"Could you do my back, please Chet?" she said over her shoulder as she handed him the banana. He took it and cleaned off her back in one long stroke from breast to breast. He sucked the huge pile of cream off in one noisy slurp. They all laughed again.
"Are you full?" she smiled. "Or could you eat some more?"
Chet grinned and wiped the back of her bikini off with another swipe. When that was gone, she felt the tip of the banana sliding gently down the crack of her ass, removing the last traces of cream. It tickled, and she giggled again.
The men erupted in laughter, and she spun around to see Chet had eaten half the banana in one bite.
"Sorry, Maggie," he said around a huge mouthful, "I couldn't help it."
"That's okay," she laughed. "I have more." She went to the counter and reached in for another banana. Her hand encountered the jar of cherries. Hmm.
"Here's something else that goes with whipped cream," she said, holding up the jar.
She walked back over to Jeff. "Can you open this for me, you big strong thing, you?" she said in a brainless southern belle accent. Jeff smiled and tried to open it and got jeered when he didn't get it on the first try. With another effort it popped and he opened the jar. She picked out a cherry by its stem. It gleamed a bright candy red, nearly the color of her nails and lips. She reached down and slowly swiped it across the whipped cream between her legs. Then she pressed it into her breast just above the nipple. She held it a few seconds, then carefully released it. The cream held it there, lying on top of her nipple. She watched it a second to make sure it was going to stay, then smiled up at Jeff.
"Like a cherry?" she asked sweetly.
"Oh, yes," he said fervently, reaching out.
"Huh-uh. No hands."
He grinned and bent down. She arched her back, lifting her breast toward his face. His lips slowly approached the little ripe fruit, then closed over it. She felt his lips brush her nipple and almost staggered with the rush. He straightened up with the cherry in his mouth and cream smeared on his face and chin.
The others cheered. "That's the way, old man." "Well done!"
Jeff happily ate his cherry and licked his lips as she dug out another cherry. She repeated the little ceremony for each of them, and it was amazing how differently each took his cherry. Some were timid, careful not to touch her at all. Most were like Jeff, getting in a little brush of her skin. But when she got to Tom, the last one, he surprised her. He got down on his knees and brought his face right up to her breast. Laying his tongue flat on the underside of her breast, he made a long swipe right up across her nipple and swept the cherry and cream up and ate them in one quick stroke. She squeaked in surprise and jumped as if she'd been shocked. She looked down and saw her breast was as clean as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Whew! A few more like that and she'd be coming right here. To cover her discomfiture, she went back and rummaged in her bag.
She pulled out another banana and peeled it. Then she returned and stood in front of the fire, gesturing for them to follow her. "Now it's time to get rid of the last of this whipped cream," she said. "I think you guys will want to see this up close. Come over here and kneel down." They came over obediently and formed a half-circle close in front of her, kneeling shoulder to shoulder. They looked up at her obediently, waiting for their next instructions. She looked down at their eager faces and felt a euphoric rush of power. They would do anything she told them to. Now she was in complete control, and she intended to keep it that way. She knew just how to do it.
"Now just watch," she said, and her voice was deep and husky.
She stood with legs well apart, one hand on her hip, the other holding the peeled banana. She brought the banana down between her legs, the tip pointing straight up. She had to bend forward to bring her hand right down between her thighs. The guys shifted around to be able to see past her arm. She brought the tip of the fruit up until it was just touching the whipped cream. Ever so slowly, she pushed it up. The end disappeared into the white foam. She felt it press against her lips. Then she drew it forward and up, letting the tip caress just inside her lips. She stroked it along the whole length of her slit. Then the tip of the banana brushed against her clitoris. She shuddered violently and nearly fell forward across her avid audience.
Catching herself, she straightened up, drawing the tip of the fruit up out of her hair to her navel. She looked down at herself and saw that the banana had plowed a groove in the cream, and in the bottom of that miniature crevasse her inner lips made a double row of pink folds. What a sight she made! She had never seen anything half as erotic as the sight of her pussy peeping out of that snow-white cream. Her clitoris stood up prominently, hard and red as one of the cherries they'd just been eating. The thought of one of these guys sucking on her clit while the others watched sent her into a paroxysm of lust. Time for the finale, she decided.
She brought the banana down to her clit again and rubbed slowly all around it, once, twice, thrice. Oh, man, she was almost there! She slid the banana down until it slipped under her pubic bone and came against the opening of her vagina. Slowly, deliberately, she slid it into herself.
The curve of the banana was perfect to allow it to slide effortlessly up into her. She was trembling with excitement now, feeling herself being opened up. Six pairs of male eyes hovered only inches away, locked on that pale yellow shaft disappearing into her. A ring of cream had collected around the banana where it entered her. Still it slid in, further and further. The banana was quite large, both in length and girth, and it seemed impossible that it could still be going in. But it was.
Finally she felt it bump gently against her cervix. She took her hand away and looked down at herself. The banana was almost completely inside her, with only an inch protruding. The forward curve of the fruit made it look like a little pale penis thrusting out of the whipped cream. What a sight! My God, was she ever hot! She felt completely filled up, literally full-filled. Now all she wanted was release.
"Jeff," she whispered. "Suck my cock."
She saw him jerk. He looked like a student caught daydreaming by his teacher. He was flustered. Supposedly no woman had ever said that to him before. She wondered for a second if he would balk at even figurative cocksucking with his male buddies. She needn't have worried. He shuffled forward until he was kneeling almost between her feet. He took hold of her knees for balance and leaned forward.
When his mouth brushed the banana, she felt it move inside her, bumping against her cervix. She gasped. Then his mouth went around the banana and he slid forward until his lips were pressed on hers. His nose came down right on top of her clit and she could feel his warm breath. She felt her orgasm stirring deep in her loins, rising like a huge bubble boiling toward the surface of some deep pool of lust.
He sucked the banana hard, drawing it out of her and into his mouth. For a second he drew back and the only contact between them was through that absurd fruit. Then he must have held it in his teeth, for when he leaned against her again he drove the banana home into her. It was like he was literally fucking her with his face.
That did it. She let out a guttural moan, and the bubble burst. One hand crushed a breast and the other flew down her belly. Slipping her fingers down beside Jeff's nose, she gave her clitoris a quick twiddle, and she was over the top.
"Oh, shit, oh, shit," she yelped, as wave after wave of orgasm swept through her body and brain. Jeff continued stroking her as fast as he could. He seemed determined to keep at it as long as she wanted. And she definitely wanted. It seemed as if she could come forever.
"Oh, eat me, Jeff, eat me."
He took her at her word and bit off the end of the banana. Then sinking his teeth in again closer to her, he pulled it out an inch and gulped another bite. It took him eight bites to eat the whole thing, and each time he lunged forward for another bite she came again.
Finally it slipped out of her and he gulped it down. His face and her crotch and thighs were smeared with the last of the whipped cream. In the midst of the mess, her cunt lips gaped wide, revealing the deep red opening between. Her fingertips continued to circle her clitoris, smearing the cream into her rich folds. Her left hand pressed and squeezed and stroked her right breast. She was still racked by shudders, but less and less often now.
At last they stopped and she slowed and stopped her stroking. Gradually she came to realize where she was. She was standing stark naked in the middle of some strange man's living room, smeared with melting whipped cream, masturbating in front of six total strangers. Some of her self-consciousness returned, but she felt too wonderful to feel very ashamed of herself. She did take her hands away though, and stood looking down at the six adult men kneeling in front of her. They still hadn't had their release, and their red faces, tense bodies, and especially the bulges in their pants, made that all too clear.
She felt sorry for them, and for one instant considered fucking them all. But then her head cleared a bit more. What was she thinking? This was a party entertainment, not a gangbang. She didn't mind putting on a show for them, but she didn't owe them anything more. In fact, she better be getting out of here. She glanced at the clock over the mantle. Shit, it was ten fifteen! She stepped back. They continued to stare hungrily at her naked body. She had to break the mood or there might still be a gangbang.
"Wow, look at the time," she said in a businesslike voice. "I've got to be going. Can I borrow a towel?"
The men, still on their knees, blinked at her in surprise as if waking from a dream. They started struggling to their feet, not an easy task with those erections, she noticed.
"Yeah," said John. "I'll get you a towel." He disappeared down the hall. The others continued to stare at her, their eyes roaming all over her body. Suddenly she felt very shy. She busied herself gathering up her clothes. She could feel their eyes on her as she bent to pick up the wisps of silk and nylon. Now she just wanted to get out of here.
"Wait a minute," said Tom suddenly. "You're not Maggie! I know who you are!"
Her heart gave a thump and nearly stopped. Oh, my God, did he know her? She looked a him in dismay, studying his face, wondering if she knew him. She felt a blush flood her face and neck and even warm her breasts.
"You do?" she whispered.
"Yeah. You decided to do this on your own, didn't you, you little minx?"
"I... I" she stammered.
"You're the girl on the phone, aren't you? The receptionist or whatever?"
Relief flooded through her. She had to laugh.
"Yes," she grinned. "You sounded so nice on the phone I decided to do the job myself."
"That's great," he said. "That's just great. I'm so glad you did."
"Yeah," she replied with a shy smile. "Me too." They stood grinning at each other, both of them very aware of her nudity. What does one do with one's hands when you're stark naked trying to carry on a conversation with a fully dressed stranger?
Finally John returned with a towel. She took it gratefully and quickly wiped herself off, removing the last traces of the sticky cream. The six men stood all around her, watching every motion. Good enough, she thought. But damned if I'm going to stand here and put all that back on. She dropped all the underwear into the grocery bag and shook the wrinkles out of her dress. She handed John the sticky towel and wriggled into her dress. Chet zipped it for her without being asked. Tom handed her a thick white envelope.
"There's seven hundred there," he said. "You were worth it."
"Thanks," she said, dropping the money in the bag. She looked around at them all. They looked so sad. "Hey, cheer up, guys," she said. "I have a feeling there are more surprises in store for you tonight."
They looked at her without comprehension. She smiled. "Bye now. And congratulations, Jeff." She gave him a quick kiss, then went to the door and let herself out.
The air was freezing on her bare legs and ass and she was very conscious of dampness still between her legs. Halfway down the driveway she met a young girl hurrying toward her wrapped in a bulky cloak. The girl stopped, looked at her in surprise. Their eyes met.
"Hi, Cindy," she said. "They're ready for you."
Then she walked on into the darkness and left the girl staring after her in confusion.
Originally published October 2007: Kink!