Dammit I thought I was done with this!
This is a standalone scene, in fact a snippet of other scribblings.
It came to me after my last story. And I just want to put it out there. Just because I like it. Felt cute basically. Might delete later.
This scene is not lewd like the rest of my writings. No actual sex. It's just a fun, weird, little thing.
In fact I think perhaps I prefer this to all the others...as if I needed to get the rest out my system until I could find what I actually wanted to describe. Silly is just as, if not more, sexy than dirty.
The before and after doesn't matter. But just to set the scene. You and I are at one of my friend's places, after a night at the pub.
The place is a flat. One large living room. There's a couch, a chair, a dining table, a coffee table, a telly, and that's about it.
I have gone to the bathroom, leaving you with my friends (there's two of them), who are still barely able to comprehend that it's you that shown up tonight.
I hope you like it.
Begin scene.
As I return from the bathroom, I notice that the music has been turned up considerably, and I round the corner to be confronted by the sight of you up on the coffee table, blissing out and dancing to the tunes, of which you seemed to very much approve.
The drinks must have taken hold, because you seem to be entirely carefree, your inhibitions have long since left the building.
You're dressed by the way, skirt and shirt. Shoes off though. Because table, manners.
My two friends are sitting on the couch right in front of you...trying for vague nonchalance and impartial observing but really just more or less leering.
You are in your own world though. Your hands are running over your sweat filmed body.
You really can dance can't you. There are moves
within
your movements.
None of you notice me there. I know this because one of them reaches down and picks up his phone...and begins to hold it aloft so as to take a picture of you. He should know better.
You can't be totally out of this world though, because no sooner has he done so than your left foot lets fly, perfectly booting it from his grasp...he looks shocked...and shamed...you don't even stop the dance moves you are doing.
A few more moves and you then stretch out your hand to him and wag your finger at him. Not even looking at him.
You're not upset. But don't fuck with you basically.
I can't help but smile. Fucking champ.
You glance in my direction and see me...and smile and dance all the harder.
You wave me over and have me sit down on the single chair next to the couch.
It seems, as if you've been waiting for my return, because you smile and wink at me and...begin to slowly unbutton your top, one by one. Oh my Lord.
I look over at the others and shrug, but also wag my finger at the naughty one too. Just so he knows I saw what he tried to do.
But that is not the main show is it? Our eyes return to you...
You take each side of your top in each hand and slowly part it...revealing your bra underneath to us all.
It's pretty sheer, but not entirely see-through. Sexy, not slutty.
Your hips move perfectly in tune with the music, and your wondrous body.
You widen your stance to move about more freely, and your skirt hitches ever so slightly higher up your thighs.
You seem constrained by it. And smile to yourself. Only you knowing what you're going to do, and I think, enjoying the effect it will have on us assembled mere mortals...
You reach back and locate the zip that holds it up, and pull it down slowly as you dance.
You shimmy as you push it over your hips, in time with the music, and it slowly manages to stretch enough to break over the swell of your firm round arse.
You turn so that we can't see the prize behind. But of course, in doing so we can see the one in front, nestled/hidden as it is in your panties. Like your bra, they are kind of sheer...but don't give too much away. Still. It's you. And your crotch. Coming into our collective view.
You stand fully. Unashamed of being down to your bra and panties in company. You know you have nothing to be ashamed about. Either physically or societally. We are the ones with ogling eyes.
You're just having fun.
Your skirt finally breaks free and falls down your legs, and you step one foot out before using the other to kick it away...falling wherever.
You resume your dancing. In bra and panties. Relishing the freedom, and the show, you are giving us.
Slowly, you begin to turn your body, dancing in a slow, stationary circle on the coffee table.
Like the moon's monthly journey, your bum begins shielded from us all, a mystery, but the movement of your hips gives slight hint that there's not a lot of material round back...until finally, quarter by quarter, you turn and reveal that indeed...it's a mere g-string...until your Full Moon reveals itself to us all.
There it is, your glorious arse, on display, to me and my dumbstruck friends.
It's yet to be fully confirmed if this is an actual strip show, or if you're just getting comfortable. There is after all, a sheen of sweat visible on your alabaster skin, slightly coloured by the dim light.
You bend your legs and our eyes follow your arse as it descends towards the table,
bottoming
out just above your ankles.
This of course, spreads your cheeks a little, giving us a good view of the thin string that's keeping your most private possessions from outright view.
You rise up again, and turn to face us. You finally open your eyes to see our gawping faces...and you smile, and hang your head down to giggle to yourself.
There has been, this whole time, I should mention, your champagne glass upon the table near your feet, which you have been deftly avoiding kicking over.
You bend down and take it up to have a sip. There's not much left in it and so you tilt your head back to empty it.
You dance on but extend your glass out to me as you do for a refill. I realise I'm closest to the bottle and reach out and take it up from its ice bucket and duly oblige.
Again, you drink. But this time you let it fill, and then spill, out past your red lips, over your chin and letting it course down your lithe body... just as you wanted it to.
It wets your bra. But, being black, doesn't reveal your nipples shading...other than there being clearly hardened by the cold liquid.
It didn't seem possible, but you look even sexier than you did before. You know it. And now we do too.
You bend back down and place it back on the table, but then place your foot over its base, the stem between your big and next toes. You lift the glass and proffer it to me...expectantly.
I pour some into the hovering glass.
You nod your thanks and resume dancing, still with your toes entwined around the glass' stem.
You then pause and lift the glass with your foot, and stretch out your leg to the face of one my friends.
