If you're under 18, this story is not for you. Don't read it. Skip or erase the file. If you're over 18, you can officially decide for yourself.
The following is a work of total fiction and contains scenes of graphic sex.
Content is my own (Monocle), copyright 1999-2003, (as are the typos, and spelling & grammar errors), and any resemblance to persons or events living or dead or stories already written is purely coincidence. The reader is free and welcome to copy and circulate these stories within free legal forums, as long as this disclaimer is included and no alterations to it or the content are made.
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Sandra closed and locked the bathroom door, sighed, and went to the mirror to touch up her makeup, grateful for the brief privacy of the small 'extra' bathroom next to the standard, multi-stalled ladies' room. She was having an OK time, but was getting discouraged, losing the heart and purpose she had come with. Damn Phillip anyway.
Her two-year-long relationship with him had been going through a 'rough spot', as her married friends would call it. She snorted. She wasn't sure which turbulence was worse - the fact that he had cheated on her or the almost dismissive way he apologized for it when he was caught. Sandra had though she loved Phillip, and that he loved her. Now nothing was certain.
She had left the apartment without telling Phillip where she was going; though she made sure he saw how she was dressed. She was in her black dancing dress. Its low, collar-less V neckline showed just a little more than proper for formal occasions. The elastic, satiny fabric hugged the swells of her breasts and hips, the seamless body flaring into a slightly frilly skirt, also too short for the most polite of company. She had no bra on that night - something else she made sure Phillip had seen. Delicate looking black three inch heels barley covered her feet and matched her tiny purse - just big enough for a compact, a lipstick, a key, a few bills, and a rolled up diaphragm. She slammed the apartment door behind her, shoes clicking, long fiery red hair streaming behind her as she strode purposefully down the hall. She rode the taxi alone, across town.
Sandra had come to this club to even the score - find someone, show Phillip how it felt to be betrayed. It was stupid, she knew, but she didn't care at the moment. She knew Phillip had at least some jealousy in him, and wanted to hurt him, as she was hurt. And she'd had no trouble finding guys who wanted to dance with her, buy her drinks, and, she was sure, take her home. Most of them she'd never look at twice. Others were so full of themselves there could never be room for anyone else. There were the oppressive, the desperate, the sleazes, the operators, the actors, the too-innocent, the not-innocent-enough. Sandra managed to find an excuse to reject all of them as the evening wore on.
"One more round, and then I'll go home," she thought, looking at her reflection, but deep down she already knew she wouldn't find what she thought she was looking for here. She'd already begun thinking about if and how things could or should be patched up with Phillip, if that's what they both wanted.
In flash of motion that took less than a second, the door to the bathroom suddenly opened and closed, letting in a loud blast of music. At the same time the lights were turned off and an instant later, just as Sandra startled from the noise, one hand grabbed her right arm as another clamped over her mouth.
Her eyes opened wide in the sudden darkness and she let out a smothered squeal of surprise and fright. Her own hands dropped the lipstick she had been taking out and reached for the arm in front of her as she fought on the edge of panic to free herself to scream. The lipstick clattered unnaturally loud in the unseen sink.
The hand was strong and didn't move easily. From just behind her right ear she heard a soft, deeply masculine voice.
"No, this is not what you think. I've only covered your mouth so that you would not instantly scream and run the moment I came in. I am going to remove my hand in just a moment, and you will be free to scream then, or simply tell me to go away. I will. You'll never hear from me again. I promise it. I know. You have no reason to believe my promise, but there it is. All I ask is that you hear me out for just a minute. You see, I know you. I know why you are here. I can give you what you want."
After a brief pause to let the words register, the hand disappeared from her mouth. Sandra breathed in deep and almost screamed. But instead, to her surprise, she let out the breath, trembling slightly. After a moment, the hand encircled her left biceps, jut has the other had her right. She stiffened at the touch, but again amazed herself by saying nothing. She was being either very brave, or very stupid. Probably the latter, she told herself. The hands held her gently but firmly. She might be able to break their grip if she really fought, but she might not.
"How did you-? Y...you know me?" she asked, able to keep the quiver she felt out of her voice.
"After a fashion," the voice replied, this time in her left ear - the change causing her to jump again. "I've seen you around here before - women like you. I know what brought you here and what you are looking for. You carry yourself too confidently to be a virgin tired of her status and looking for a white knight to deflower her. You're too discriminating to be a vixen on the make, and too sad to be here because you want to have a simple fling. You've been betrayed by a lover, and are looking to return the favor." He said these things as statements, not questions.
Sandra started again. He knew!
"But you've not been able to convince yourself to go through with it with anyone you've seen."
"No..." (Did she say that out loud, or just think it?)
"You were going to go home soon, and try to make up with - who now?
"Philli-" She cut herself off. Why would she tell this invisible person anything? She could barely make out a backlit silhouette now, behind her in the mirror, illuminated only by the flickering light sneaking in from under the door. He was tall and wide of chest. The outline of his head suggested short straight hair. He was close behind her and she could almost feel the warmth of his body.
"Phillip, then." There was something slightly accented to his speech, but Sandra had no clue where to place it. "You were going to go back to Phillip and see if you could accept again someone who had betrayed your trust... even your love?"
Sandra nodded, forgetting that he likely could not see that.
"Tell me, was Phillip a good lover?"
"Wh.. what do you mean?"
"I mean, did he treat you like a beautiful woman should be treated." Sandra gasped as the end of the sentence was accompanied by an electric sensation that ran from her left ear down her spine. An unseen tongue had just liked her on and just behind the earlobe.
"Could he awaken your passion with a touch?" Now, the right hand released her arm and fingers drew lightly along her collar bone and downward, delicately caressing the outside of her breast, trailing down her side to wrap around her hip, fingers gently pressing into the side of her lower belly. Sandra's right hand quickly reached and covered the stranger's, half-holding, half gripping it as if to remove it from her.
In the darkness Sandra acutely felt every inch of the motion. Everything that had been touched tingled, the sensation spreading out to warm her body. She inhaled and exhaled deeply again, whispering "No..." as she did. She trembled slightly as she felt a pair of warm lips touch her neck on her right side, just above her shoulder line. They pressed a long kiss there, then two more progressing upward to her right ear. She shivered. How could this invisible intruder have such a strong and immediate effect on her? Was she crazy to just stand here? Was this what she had been looking for all evening?
"Does he please the needs and desires of your flesh before his own? Instead of his own? Has he ever explored the depths and heights of ecstasy he could give to you?" Now the left hand released her other arm. Its fingers first touched her through her skirt on her outer left thigh, just above the hem. They trailed upward, dragging the fabric with them up her thigh until it fell free. The fingers slid lightly across to her belly just above her pubis, then upward over her stomach, between her ribs, until the heel of the hand pressed against her left breast and the fingers slowly rose to curl up and under, cradling it gently.
Sandra had been mouthing "No" quietly in answer to the questions drifting at her from the darkness, her skin goose-pimpling in reaction to the touches it received. But when the hand cupped her breast she gasped again, grabbing at it with her hand.
"Hey! Stop!" She pulled at the hand, which held strong, the motion shaking and giggling her firm breast in the cupping fingers.
"I've told you how you can get me to stop. Tell me to go away and I will. I promise. You don't have to believe me, but there it is."
Silence. Sandra still pulled at the left hand, but she said nothing, her mind full of conflicting thoughts. The invisible right hand then slowly slid flat from her hip to her belly, and began slow circles around and around over the smooth, cool fabric of the dress.
At her left ear, between little nibbling kisses, he spoke. "Phillip has squandered and abused his treasures. You are a beautiful, sexy woman. You have a perfectly curved body, a sensuous walk. Your arms and legs are obviously strong, but toned and delicate looking - a wondrously elegant and feminine. Your breasts," the left hand now rubbed the underside of her breast gently back and forth, "are firm, resilient, neither too big to hold nor too small to escape notice. You have a smooth, perfect belly that makes men long to take you and fill you with themselves."
Sandra's breathing quickened. She felt herself slowly melting into the touch of this unseen man. Her back was now pressed against his hard chest, her buttocks just brushing against his upper thigh. She felt her heart pound, thought she could hear it louder than the muted sounds of dance music filtering through the door. The lips now pressed up and down the very back of her neck, tongue trailing wetly over the first vertebrae of her spine before meeting the neckline of her dress. The tongue then moved in slow circles around her neck, mimicking the hand circling her belly. The second hand now also started circling around her left breast, never quite touching the nipple, but stroking the, sides, top, and bottom through the sheer dress. It occasionally broke to travel the length of her side down to her hip and back before resuming its tantalizing circuit. Sandra realized that her hands still held the thick wrists as the moved around her body. Not knowing what else to do with them, she kept them there.
