Only slightly more composed after her melt-down in the limo, she held her hand out to her boyfriend who waited by the open door. It might be the last night she would ever be able to refer to him as that again.
She felt tremors. 'Oh my god not again,' she thought. Maybe it was just the after effects of one of the most explosive orgasms of a lifetime. She repeated silently to herself over and over like a mantra, ' I will not embarrass myself or Rick again, I won't, I won't, oh my god, I hope I won't.'
"Sarah?" Rick asked solicitously. "Are you ok pet?"
"Oh Rick, I'm so mortified," her face turning another nice shade of red.
"Baby, don't worry about it. It's perfectly natural, a little out of character for you, but certainly we've taken care of it" He patted her hand platonically. She searched his face for the disgust she expected. She found only concern.
"I've... never... done anything like that. I'm so sorry, Rick. I'm sure it's... well..." stuttering it out she answered, "not going to happen again"
Her pussy took just that moment to start heating up again and make a lie of all she'd just said. She swore silently, squeezed her thighs together and proceeded to tell her womanhood to go to hell.
Rick kept his smirk turned away from her. The stuff he'd given them both would last for hours. Actually his friend had given him an antidote in case it took too long to wear off. He hid his chuckle in a belated cough.
After handing off their tickets at the door, he led her unerringly to the bar. Watching her seat herself on the tall barstool with no panties. Priceless. He ordered her favorite martini and took a scotch on the rocks.
She eased her right leg up onto the stool. This forced her legs to spread apart and her dress to ride up her thighs. Anyone who'd seen them walk in and watched them move to the bar would get an unobstructed view of her shaved and well used pussy.
She quickly pulled her other leg on to the seat and pressed her thighs together. She didn't dare try to cross her legs, just in case. Rick turned to her with the martini, which she gratefully took. Anything to add some cool to her already heating up body parts.
Sarah kept her eyes on her glass. She didn't want to look into the eyes of anyone who might have witnessed her mounting the bar stool. But, Rick lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. He gauged her desire to be on a scale of one to ten, somewhere around four.
"So what do you think? Looks like someone went for the works tonight."
She dared to look around. The room was full of people dancing, talking, sitting at elegant tables, sharing food and drink and conversation. A few were sharing a little more than that. The couple in the corner booth were deep into each other. The man looked like he was giving the girl a tonsillectomy with his tongue.
While another by the band had his head buried in a very buxom woman's blouse. And still others were dirty dancing to some slow spooky music. With the spider web decor and fog machines rolling, it was like watching a scene of ghosts who had risen from a New Orleans' graveyard to celebrate All Hallows Eve. Tombstones were scattered about the guests on the dance floor. Monuments, crosses, chipped, stained, moss covered as if they truly danced upon the dead.
'And... oh... was that couple actually... on that grave marker, doing...' she didn't get a chance to make out what it was they were really doing. It couldn't be. But, the dancers had swirled in around them blocking them from view.
The lights were low and red. Right in front of the band someone had erected an open coffin. Resplendent as anything Dracula himself might own. The red velvet lining, the dark oak panels, the gold ornamentation and handles. Oh my god, she was thinking about sex again, in that coffin, with her Dracula escort, Rick. He would die if he knew.
