The Swinging Door

Editor: WhiteWave48

Famous Lovers on Display

Together in the car, they made a very interesting trio – Jenny as Sheherazade, Marti and Rick. At first Jenny thought that her friends were dressed as Tarzan and Jane, but it turned out that Rick was Conan the Barbarian – think: John Candy rather than Arnold – and Marti was... well... Conette the Cave Girl? She did look hot, whoever she was, in that leopard skin outfit. The girls had a few more drinks in the car as they drove on, and everybody was in a fine mood in a short time.

The party was already in high gear when they finally arrived at their destination. As Rick slowly drove past the house a second time to make sure they had the right address, it dawned on Jenny that they would be rubbing elbows with some very high-placed people if this address was any indication. The upper North Shore Tudor-style mansion was massive from the front, well set back from the street by at least 100 feet of well-tended greenery with flowering shrubs and bushes hugging the front wall, while tall liquid ambar and English oak trees graced the perfectly mown lawn.

The sly, silvery moon that glinted off the dark slate roof seemed to beckon the trio forward, but the back-lit limbs of tall trees threw twisted shadows on the ground that, though ephemeral, seemed to bar the way. Vague shapes could be seen moving to and fro behind the lozenge windowpanes of oriel windows while, from deeper within, the cacophonous sound of new age rock emerged. The music, tempered by the tinkle of too-loud laughter, made an incongruous mix of sounds that echoed presumptuously down the staid tree-lined street

Half-expecting a pajama-clad Hugh Heffner to come to the door to greet them, the expectant trio hesitantly approached the front door. Finding the door slightly ajar, the newcomers pushed gently against the heavy oak door and found that it easily swung wide open, as if an unseen force had sensed their presence.

Suddenly, without warning, Jenny felt a strong cool breeze stir the summer evening air. Her harem pants billowed as her hair flew in a fury about her face. The wind became stronger, with a hint of turbulence, as if a significant change were in the offing. The fine hair on her arms stood on end and all over her body she felt a tingle. Glancing over at Rick and Marti, she saw that the breeze had no effect on them; in truth, they did not seem to notice anything unusual. For Jenny, however, it was a breath of fresh air meant exclusively for her, a zephyr that stirred her inner being. It was if a quiet voice was whispering in her ear:

"The time for denial is over. From this moment onward, be your true self!"

Maybe it was the drinks she had gulped down or maybe it was this mysterious Siren song that seemed to drift through the trees, but then and there, Jenny decided that she had not been true to herself for a long time. She had stifled her spontaneity, her curiosity about erotic feelings, and her own growing sensuality, all in the name of trying to be what someone else wanted.

Increasingly, Jenny found herself thinking less about her own failings and more about the men she had known, and whether any of them had ever really understood her. Wasn't there someone out there who would talk to her, confide in her, support her own quest for an identity? Wasn't there at least one man, somewhere, who could listen, not just talk, and respect her for her opinions, not just her face and body?

Sometimes, Jenny thought, she felt so lonely, so used, and so abused! And so many of her friends who were in relationships said the same thing. Married or single, she thought with increasing ardor, it's still the same: we're just maids for hire. No, worse! We're unpaid maids who double as the cook, cleaning-girl and laundry-wench. Maybe, if we're lucky, a quick fuck once in a while, but only when he felt like it!

"Well," Jenny thought, as the Dylan tune sprang to mind, "the times they are a changing, and so am I."

As Jenny and her companions ventured timidly into the front hallway, eyeing the richly papered walls and Australian hardwood parquet floors, they looked in vain among the swirl of costumed guests for the host or hostess. Strolling past the elegantly decorated rooms of the house, they were distracted by the richness and diversity of the people who ebbed and flowed around them in swirling eddies of color and costume. All were made up in some way, some with masks or painted faces, and others in costume, but all very colorful and imaginative. It was quite a menagerie.

By the hors d'oeuvres tray in the living room they caught a glimpse of a tall, ruddy-faced King Louis XIV, complete with a powdered wig and royal blue cloak dotted with tiny fleur-de-lis, offering a slice of chocolate cake to a full-bosomed Marie Antoinette, who, with high-coiffed blonde hair and a small beauty mark on her left cheek, devoured the petite gateau and smacked her painted lips lasciviously. King Louis, not to be outdone, stuck his tongue out to lick a few stray cake crumbs that had tumbled into the deep cleft of his wife's barely-contained breasts while Marie squealed and squirmed with delight.

Nearby, a middle-aged Robin Hood, clad in green tights with a jeweled dagger in his belt, was pouring himself a stiff Scotch. At his side stood Maid Marian, in matching Lincoln Green, with a tiny bow and a clutch of toy arrows slung over her shoulder. Marian's slender fingers furtively played across Robin's tightly packed buns, then dove down to his suddenly stiff package, just to let him know she was not letting him stray too far.

A leggy Parisian courtesan with bulls-eyes painted on her breasts, was teasing her dapper husband by rubbing her cute butt against another man's family jewels. Her spouse, the diminutive and decadent Toulouse Lautrec, smiled approvingly at his exotic wife while he sipped absinthe and drew suggestive words and phrases on the exposed flesh of a young nymphette.

As Jenny and her friends made their way to the back patio they passed more famous couples. Some were biblical, including Sampson and Delilah, Lot and his wife (she dressed in white, with a powdered face, and was carrying a large box of Morton's Salt) and the original First Couple, positioned, naturally enough, near the fruit bowl. The large bosomed blonde with strategically placed leaves, was feeding an apple to an angular lad clad in nothing but a snake around his neck and an over-sized fig leaf. Jenny noticed that he had a nice butt and a lovely long 'temptation to sin' that refused to be completey hidden under a mere fig leaf. Its shiny wet tip and several inches of hard pink flesh peeked out over the scant green covering.

Literary couples abounded as well. Naturally, there were Shakespearean characters from Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and Macbeth, as well as Paris and Helen of Troy, and Venus and Adonis. Jenny, at first pleased by the prospect of an intriguing literary discussion, was soon startled as she took a second look into the shadows near the high box hedge. While Romeo rested on stone-carved garden seat, apparently contemplating the fair moon above, Juliet was kneeling under him, unlacing his cod-piece and ministering to his needs, so it seemed. While her fair hair blew in the gentle breeze, Juliet's head bobbed up and down in an increasingly rapid rhythm until Jenny heard a slight choking sound and then an explosion of giggles and laughter.

"Ah ha," thought Jenny, "it's not just the breeze that's blowing this night."

A striking couple drinking white wine by the pool was difficult to identify at first. The tall, handsome man was in some sort of Pilgrim outfit, with a black frock coat with stiff white lace at his collar, and the raven-haired beauty who shared his conversation wore a long black dress, adorned only by a brilliant red necklace... oh, it was not a necklace, Jenny realized; it was a delicately embroidered capital 'A'.

"Ah, yes," Jenny thought: "The Scarlet Letter."

Easier to identify, among the many costumed guests, were a beautifully gowned Scarlett O'Hara flirting with a handsome Rhett Butler. The Southern Gentleman was down on his knees kissing her tiny foot and adjusting a silver shoe that peeked out from under the the folds of several satin petticoats that the pretty cocquette had gathered up in her hands. Very modest, Jenny thought, until Scarlett lifted her skirts even higher and Jenny spied a triangle of damp dark pussy hair showing through the open slash in the lady's frilled undies.

A handsome Don Juan in Hell leered at a curvatious demon in black half-mask, with flaming red hair and silver nipple rings accenting her hard pink buttons. Nearby Don Quixote de la Mancha was mixing a cocktail for a shapely Dulcinea who wore (apparently) a medieval chain-mail bra. Speaking of medieval, a very pretty brunette dressed only in paint and seemingly chained in a chastity belt was waiting for her knight in shining 'amour' to return from the Crusades.

Jenny noticed a very handsome young man dressed in a Greek toga and wearing dark stage make-up around his eyes stroking the bottom of an attractive, but much older, woman.

"Who are they supposed to be?" Jenny heard one young woman ask, in reference to the latter couple.

"Ed and Jo, I heard," came the response. "Supposed to be lovers out of some old Greek play, but she's old enough to be his mother, for God's sake."

Jenny found it hard to suppress a smile as she thought, "That's because she really is his mother, you dumb-fuck." Queen Jocasta, Jenny knew, was both a mother and a lover to her handsome son, "Ed", according to the ancient tale of 'Oedipus Rex', by Sophocles. "Pretty kinky stuff", Jenny thought to herself, "and it was written nearly 3500 years ago!"

Passing through the patio door, Jenny almost bumped into a thin blue-eyed blonde wearing a very short skirt and a french beret at a jaunty angle. Jenny immediately thought of Faye Dunaway's famous portrayal of the gangster moll, Bonnie. Sure enough, when the lithesome honey blonde lifted a leg to tease her famous bank-robber lover, Clyde Barrow, a hidden derringer appeared under her dark skirt, slit high on her silk-clad thigh. Clyde, with a thick cigar stuck in his mouth, sported a 30s era Tommy gun by his side.

And, speaking of cigars, there was a man in a blue business suit, white shirt and red tie, with a big Clinton-Gore button on his lapel.

"Oh, it's Bill and Hill," thought Jenny, before she saw that his companion was not a toothy blonde with a butch haircut, but a somewhat chubby brunette wearing a dress with some rather obvious white stains near her collar, and a pair of knee-pads hanging out of her handbag.

"Hello there, Monica," said Jenny as she passed the woman, unable to stifle a giggle.

As Jenny approached the outside bar, set up next to an Olympic-sized pool, she noticed the 'swimsuits optional' sign and saw the option was clearly not in favor of suitsuits. Since it was summer, with long hours of daylight, of a number of bikini-clad (and mostly unclad) hotties, who were apparently supposed to be water nymphs, cavorted and frolicked with a rather portly horned satyr, or each other, in lascivious poses.

One naked young nymph was enjoying a few seconds of solitude as she leaned back at the shallow end of the pool, gently caressing her pussy as she watched the fun through half-closed eyes. Jenny was not quite shocked seeing so many tits and clits (as it were) but she was somewhat surprised, to say the least, to see that the lower regions of these nymphs were sporting only a tiny triangle or just a thin landing strip' of pussy hair.

"I have to get out more," Jenny thought. "Is this what everyone is doing these days?"

As usual, there was a crowd at the bar and Jenny found herself pressed up against a muscular masked man wearing a flowing black shirt tucked into black trousers, with a Spanish-style hat and an ornate rapier held in place by a black silk sash. Although the entire top part of his face was obscured with the mask and hat, the lower part of his physiognomy featured a well-trimmed beard, a strong jaw, and very white straight teeth that were startling when he smiled. Jenny recognized him as the dashing swashbuckler, Zorro.

In his other hand Zorro held a long ebony cane with an ornately carved ivory head. He turned and smiled at Jenny just as he popped the cork of a bottle of Dom Perignon and poured a glassful of the contents into a champagne glass. He then passed the glass of bubbly to an attractive blonde senorita clad in black Spanish lace that revealed a beautiful bosom. Before she drank, however, Zorro lifted his cane in the air and raised a single eyebrow as if to ask a question. The blonde smiled and nodded, whereupon the man unscrewed the top of the cane and poured a small amount of white powder into the glass. The sexy senorita smiled and drained her glass with one gulp.

On her other side, Jenny found herself wedged in next to a large-bosomed and bejeweled Cleopatra who was fondling a rubber asp and whispering huskily to an plastic-armored Julius Caesar, who had just collected two gin tonics. Off to the side a tall man dressed as a full-uniformed London Bobbie, complete with nightstick and whistle, was busy placing handcuffs on high-booted mini-skirted street walker, who was dressed even more scantily than Jenny. With one deep breath, that girl was going to fall right out of her dress, and give everyone around a spectacular shot of her tantalizing titties.

Trying to get a drink at the bar, however, was not that easy, especially with the large number of people who were in front of her. As Jenny's lips finally began to curl in frustration, the masked man in black turned and caught her eye. As he was about to raise a freshly filled champagne glass to his lips, he stopped, and offered it to Jenny with a courtly bow.

"That's very kind of you," said Jenny, coyly.

Before she could say more, however, Rick and Marti whisked her off in another direction. As they continued their stroll, they met many more costumed guests, ranging from the mythical (Lancelot and Guinevere), to the modern (Tony and Maria from West Side Story). The guests also included the historical (Capt. John Smith, gripping his frontier rifle, with braided and beaded Pocahontas by his side) as well as the hysterical (Paris and Nicole Hilton).

A woman with dark hair and eye-popping jugs seemed to have three men as her dates, but Jenny couldn't figure out who she was supposed to be. It later turned out she was Elizabeth Taylor with Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher, and Richard Burton as her first three (out of many) husbands. Bare breasts, or perhaps boobs 'covered' with a bit of paint or some transparent netting, were quite common, and there were even some women who had already flashed a little shaved pussy, just to tease the men, it seemed. There were also angels and demons in various stages of dress and undress, drinking and dirty dancing.

Just as Rick was about to grab some drinks at the bar he ran into an old buddy by the edge of the pool. Then Marti started flirting with some guy in a kilt. Jenny couldn't tell if was supposed to be Macbeth, Rob Roy, or Braveheart, but whoever he was, he seemed to be carrying his dirk in the wrong place. Something was lifting the tartan in front, under the weight of his sporran, and Marti was making the most of the situation.

For the moment, Jenny was alone in the motley mixture of strange couples. As her lips began to curl in frustration, Zorro turned and caught her eye. In an instant, he had whisked another champagne glass from the back of the bar and poured a full measure of the Dom Perignon for Jenny. Her frown dissolved into a dazzling smile as she thanked him and clinked his glass, but within seconds the masked man was being pulled off in another direction by his curvatious senorita and she lost sight of him.

As Jenny sipped her champagne (a different taste, but delicious... and the bubbles tickled her nose), she wondered what psychological motives caused a woman to dress up as the lusty temptress, Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile. Wasn't the serpent a symbol of sin and lust? And then there were the others... what made a woman want to shave her pussy, and then, show it off to whoever wanted to see? Did men really like that? Could Jenny see herself doing that? No, never... well... hmmmm.

What was it with these women... were they really so different from her? Was she in any way like the Cleopatra wanna-be, who dreamed of seducing powerful men? Or like the pretty Bonnie who caressed that half-hidden handgun as the ultimate phallic symbol? Was she perhaps like the costumed hooker, a horny housewife who harbored a hidden fantasy of being raped by a total stranger? Were these the dark dreams of her friends and neighbors? Jenny had never pondered such things before, but now, for the first time, she gave her thoughts free rein, and they were beginning to make her moist.

And the men, always displaying power, with their various weapons, their swords and daggers, rifles and rapiers, even cigars and night sticks... ye gods, was there anything they sported that was NOT a phallic symbol, she wondered? Just who were these people, these new friends of Rick and Marti, and what was this 'special party' all about? Did the women want to play a little grab-ass in a dark corner, or were they merely poseurs? More to the point, when the guys got a load of her seductive costume, Jenny wondered, would they get hard in their costumed pants and feel that primal urge to bend her over and have their way with her? The thought excited her.

Jenny knew men had always fantasized about her, with her sweet face, beautiful round ass, and firm breasts. What if they could get a glimpse of her private parts, with her pink lips puckered and pouting, ready to be flicked, licked, and much more? As more women passed by, clad only in body paint, Jenny wondered... could she be that brazen... to be, in effect, buck naked except for a few dabs of paint? As if reading her thoughts, the two women, a brunette with chains and a chastity belt painted on, and a blonde dressed all in black, her boobs totally bare, smiled at her and nodded as if to say, 'sure you could, baby... we've got it and you've got it, so why not flaunt it?'

And what if she did flaunt it and three or four men gathered around, she continued in her reverie, and asked her to do a belly dance, or perhaps even strip for them, bit by bit, until she was completely naked, with her breasts heaving, her nipples hard, and her legs spread open for all to see?

If she stripped down to nothing, dancing and gyrating in front of them, completely naked, would they all want her? And what if they all took out their... their weapons, for that's what they seemed like... nice big thick weapons made of flesh, with large heads, covered with pre-cum, and if they gathered around her in a circle; then would they want her to service all of them? How many could she take?

One nice wet one in her mouth, she figured, and two more thick ones in each hand, and then she could bend over, and take one with a large knobby head deep inside her, and one more, not quite as thick, slowly up her ass... oh my... such thoughts!

What was happening to her, wondered Jenny as a thrill shot through her body and made her shiver with anticipation. Was it possible that she had a repressed desire to be an exhibitionist herself? Was her shyness some sort of psychological defense against an innate need to show off her voluptuous body? Hmmmm, she thought, perhaps I'll find out more about myself than I will about others this evening. She felt a jolt of electricity surge through her lower regions, causing increased moisture in her already-wet panties, and the night was still very young.

To be continued...