Edited by: Pope1944. Thanks!
*****
I could still remember, from about ten years ago, how intense the feelings I'd had for Heather had been. Intense, and very quickly over. Well, not really over but it had quickly become clear that she wasn't interested in me in the romantic sense. Instead, we had become good friends. After college we drifted apart slightly because of the physical distance between the cities where we lived but then fate intervened and we both found jobs in the same college.
Heather had become even more beautiful and sexy than she had been when she was younger. Nevertheless, I spent the first couple of years ignoring the possibility that something could happen between us. And then, an experiment changed everything. That little experiment about compliments on her physical beauty had finally broken through a decade of friendship.
It seemed that friends really could become lovers! Yet even though I knew I was an anomaly among Heather's boyfriends, she was also an exception among my girlfriends. I don't think I ever consciously looked for submissive women. In fact, I really liked women that can stand up for themselves and speak their minds. Yet I had never been with a woman as powerful and dominant as Heather.
This had been the defining facet of this very new relationship. Even after just two weeks, ever since our fateful meeting in the old library where we fucked our brains out, Heather had positioned herself as the dominant partner. At least she had tried to. In bed, or on the library's attic's floor, I was happy to play along. But when she tried doing that in other situations... let's say that there were adjustments to be made. Then again, she had known that I wasn't a submissive man. I loved her though, even if it was too early for me to tell her.
At that point in our very new relationship, I had no idea that the most memorable event of our first months together would be a ball. A shindig as Malcolm Reynolds would say. A damned ball that would change so many things for me...
This morning we both got up early as we had classes to teach. We were in her bed, both naked, and despite our powerful releases last night, we shared a quick climax before getting up and taking a shower. We had to hurry to reach campus before 8 this morning but we both made it in time.
After my class I stayed in my office and grinned like an idiot, alone with the door closed, and replayed my favorite moments of our nights together. Heather was rapacious! As rapacious as me, at least! We had made love about twice a day, every day. Part of me was exhausted, yet thinking about her, naked, over me... it made my cock grow. It was slightly painful, as sore as it was but it was still growing...
Sitting there, I received a text from her. "Mark your calendar, we have a ball to attend next Thursday night." I had no idea what that meant, and was surprised to learn that anybody held actual balls anymore. I knew there were the traditional balls for high-school graduates but for the rest of us? We weren't princes and queens! But more importantly, I was really surprised that Heather wanted to go there, and wanted to go there with me.
For the next few days I tried my best to ply some information out of her. But Heather would just smile and shake her head. She told me that I had to dress up, that it was a formal ball and, mysteriously, that I had to be ready for everything. Even though she was smiling and seemed confident, I could have sworn that there was an undercurrent of nervousness whenever we talked about the ball. I would only learn later, after the ball, how important of a gesture her invitation actually had been. How vulnerable, in fact, she had actually been with this.
And so when Thursday finally came around, I was still clueless to what the ball was, or was for. When I came out of the bathroom, dressed in my finest and most formal clothes, Heather stood up and grinned. "You look ravishing, Jeremy. You're perfect." She walked to me and hugged me hard, and once again I had a clear feeling that Heather was nervous. She was wearing nothing but a tank top and I knew that it was now her turn to get ready. Before she did, she pinned a small black rose pin on my lapel. Before I could ask about it, she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind herself.
While she was in there I suddenly grinned and asked her "Heather? Are you going to put make-up on?" I heard her laugh, and it would be her only answer. For as long as I had known her, I had never seen her with makeup. Probably a feminist thing. "Overcompensation!" I thought but had never said. I thought about teasing her about it but we had only been intimate for a couple of weeks. Later...
Still, I pushed her despite her silence "What about your hair? Are you going to put it up like a girl submitting to the patriarchal norms?"
I was laughing softly as I finished, then laughed out loud when she replied "Shut up!", laughing herself.
Twenty minutes later she came out and two thing became blindingly obvious. The first was that she was gloriously beautiful. She wasn't wearing makeup, at least none that I could detect, nor was her hair significantly different than how she usually wore them. Yet something was different, and not just the dress. Then again, the dress was so stunning that it could very well mess with my perception.
It was a very complicated piece, probably worth hundreds and hundreds of dollars. My first though, besides how incredibly beautiful Heather was in it, was that it was probably a rental. A convinced feminist would never pay so much for such a pice of clothing. But then, I saw that it fit her like a glove and was probably made to measure.
The skirt part was blood red velvet, very ample and completely covered her legs. The top though, that was another story. It was mainly a see through fabric covered more of less randomly with sown bright red flowers. It covered part of her belly, most of her breasts and went down partway down her arms. The final touch was a collar of flowers tightly wrapped around her neck. I thought I detected a few hints of a red bra underneath but I wasn't sure. Would she really go braless to a ball? In this dress?
My blood heated up as I stared at her, my jaw dropping gently as the seconds passed. She was simply breathtaking. Her long, thick brown mane of hair was loose but she had added some subtle curls to it. Part of me wanted to kneel in front of her, and part of me wanted to bring up the fact that she was willingly playing the role of the objectified woman. I didn't mention that. Not right away in any case.
She came to me, grinning ear to ear, and grabbed my arm. We drove to the ball and I was surprised to see that we were going to one of the most expensive restaurants in town. But I quickly forgot about that as Heather pulled a mask out from her purse. I was puzzled but she only smiled as she put it on before getting out of the car.
When we entered the restaurant, a place which I had been to a couple of times, I found the entire first floor completely transformed. Instead of a luxurious restaurant filled with many tables, it was now a magnificent ballroom. But I only had a few moments to look at the place. A masked woman was walking towards us, and her smile told me that she knew Heather despite the mask.
I stood silent for quite a few minutes as the two women talked to each other, with no names mentioned. Nevertheless, the familiarity I could sense from the new woman confirmed that these two knew each other. As they talked, I couldn't help but stare at her. And given that I was being completely ignored, not even having been presented, I ogled her.
The woman standing next to me looked about twenty five years old but then again it was hard to estime her age. She clearly was of Japanese descent, with deep black hair falling perfectly straight down to her elbows, with brown eyes looking out from behind the mask. She had a fire-colored lock in her hair but I didn't know if it was a fashion choice or if it meant anything else.
But as beautiful as she looked behind her masked, her breasts completely stole the show. I had thought that Heather's dress was slightly risqué earlier but this was something else. The young woman was wearing a perfectly transparent top. Officially, the fabric would have been classified as black but it was so clear that it barely mattered. The buttons holding the blouse together were laid on a strip of black leather, and the leather widened at the waist into a much fuller belt around her fine waist. Below that leather belt was a long black skirt that went all the way to the floor. But as remarkable as her unique dress was, I couldn't take my eyes off of her breasts.
The young woman was, quite obviously, one of the rare busty Japanese. Very busty. I was blessed with Heather, and this very slight girl had breasts almost as big. But on her small frame... Ouf! Given that she wasn't wearing anything under that translucent blouse, I could see everything. Heck, I could even have counted the number of beauty marks on them. Smiling, as the minutes lengthened, I actually did count them. She had four beauty marks on those amazing breasts.
Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation and the woman turned to me. She stared at me as openly as I had been staring at her, looking at me from my face to my shoes. "Hmm. Very nice, my dear." she said, speaking to Heather. "Where did you find him?"
"Actually, he's my boyfriend." she replied.
"Oh, that explains the black rose..." she said, a smile on her lips. "And I'm sure there's a story behind it..." Finally turning to look at me as a person, she said "I'm Shion. I hope you have a nice evening here..." a slight pause, during which she winked at me "...and that you enjoy everything as much as you've enjoyed ogling my breasts."
With a very cute smile, she turned around and joined other friends. I turned to Heather, suddenly very nervous and feeling out of my depth. Well, not really out of my depth, just unable to understand what was going on. The fact that Heather was grinning after hearing Shion's comment only made me more nervous. They were friends but right now Shion, if that was even her real name, looked like an asian sugar baby.
As we walked inside, all I could see was a patriarcal and misogynist ball where extremely beautiful women hung like objects at the arms of rich men. Most of the women had peculiar colors in their hair but other than that, it looked like the kind of place a feminist like Heather would never come. In fact, it looked like the most anti-feminist place I had ever seen. I was soon to discover that I was reading this entire place completely wrong.
For the next half hour I was forced to wrap my head around the fact that this was a ball like any other with one exception; the social norms that govern interactions between men and women were essentially reversed. And of course it was pushed to the cliché, as things often were when in such situations. I walked around almost dazed as I looked at people and saw men standing silent next to their partners as the women talked amongst themselves.
As time went by I felt more and more like an object as women stared at me and smiled or winked as they passed by. A few of them even slapped my ass before moving on, not even saying a single word to me. Heather saw that and didn't react at all. I didn't mind the slap, really but I was still surprised by Heather's lack of reaction. When we moved away from the couple we had been talking to, I grabbed her by the elbow and whispered "We have to talk." She grinned and guided me to a balcony.
