"Come on Clare, keep up. Miranda will let us into her corridor once I call her but she's... well she won't wait all night." Jenny dragged me across the college square, both of us dressed in our 1920s flapper dresses. Greg and Jack were following along behind in slightly neglected black tie, they had the air of obedient pets playing 'following the leader'.
We entered the glass, steel and concrete student halls, and climbed the bare concrete stairs, when we got to the second floor, Miranda was standing holding the door open, chatting to another girl. Both of them were dressed in short, tight dark clubbing dresses together with heels. I had never been one for clubbing dresses, too short, too tight, too revealing, but now I had to admit to myself that my own dress was at least as revealing, perhaps more so, and I felt great in it.
"Hey, Jenny, come on in, and Clare too, nice, and don't you both look the part in your vintage outfits.... Even, stockings, well aren't you the loose women." She giggled as she and her friend appraised our outfits
"Ooh and guys too, well they look good enough to eat." Miranda kissed Jenny and I on the cheeks as we passed her. I knew her moderately well from a few other socials, but I didn't know many of her social group. We were ushered inside into the vestibule. As the guys passed her, she also kissed them on the cheeks and I felt a moment of proprietorship over Greg, in a completely unjustifiable way.
"Leave anything you want in my room, which is that one there. It should be moderately safe." Miranda gestured to the only closed door of the four doors coming off the central area. We deposited various jackets and things there and then walked back through. There were perhaps 20 people spread between the remaining rooms, which seemed to have been repurposed as drinking in the kitchen, a dark dancing room, and another room for collapsing exhausted in a deep red light.
Jenny and I walked into the kitchen and joined a collection of course-mates, drinking glasses of Aperol from a never-ending bowl which was being topped up from a collection of bottles sitting on the side. We took some glasses and joined into the general banter. Greg and Jack similarly sloped off into the lounge room to join some friends in a discussion of bloke matters.
I quickly felt a sensation of loss though, I had been enjoying dancing with Greg, had enjoyed feeling him close to me, his hands on me, and wanted him back. I wanted him back before he discovered the delights of anyone else.
I detached myself politely from the girl chat and walked out of the kitchen, into the lounge room. Greg was sitting on a desk in the other room, chatting to another guy. He saw me enter the room and I watched the look in his eyes on me as I walked to him. How his eyes scanned down my face, shoulders, breasts, hips. I felt that same thrill again that I had felt earlier, knowing the look in his eyes betrayed desire.
I walked to him, stood right in front of him and looked at his face, his arms, looked at the way that his shoulders and arms filled the shirt, at the curves of his muscles, then down to his flat stomach, his crotch, his pleasantly curved thighs in the suit trousers. I wanted him to know what it was like to be observed in an overtly objectifying way. The conversation between him and his friend died out and there was a moment of stillness as we all let the moment hang in the air. Then I reached forward and took his hand, felt his rough hand on mine, his hands warm. I pulled him to his feet, effortlessly sliding off the desk, he followed me without any question, a slight grin crossing his mouth as he did so.
He shared a glance with his friend as he took my hand more firmly, his fingers interlacing with mine as we walked out of the room, and into the dancing room. The lights were out, and instead they had some fairy lights, a rotating laser disco light projecting onto the ceiling. The atmosphere in the room was hot and sweaty, perhaps 10 people moving concertedly to the heavy beat.
I took Greg's free hand, and pulled him round to face me, put my arms around his neck and pressed myself to him, pressed my hips just below his cock, felt his bulge on my stomach, my small breasts sliding against his shirt. I luxuriated in the utter physicality of it, the music, the smell of his body against mine. I let my head turn and rest on his chest. He let out a sigh, the feeling of his hardening cock against my stomach telling me that he was enjoying it just as much as I was.
We danced like that for a while, his hands on my back, on my bum, feeling the lines of my suspender belt, feeling the thin bands of my g-string descending between my cheeks, sometimes resting on the firm curves of my bum. Sometimes we danced close, enjoying our bodies pressed together, sometimes we pulled further away and looked at each other as we danced hand in hand. I let him put his hands on my shoulders, arms, on the sides of my chest, his palms resting just a cm from my barely covered breasts.
"Here you are!" Jenny arrived with a shriek and with Jack in tow. "Oh, you two look to be getting nice and close." She gestured at Greg approvingly, and then took Jack's hands and embarked upon the most enthusiastic and outrageous dance that I could imagine. Her dress flew around her like a child's wooden top, the hem pulled wide by the silvery tassels, rising higher to show off her legs, the tops of her stockings peeking out.
We danced as a foursome, Jenny and I dancing wildly, the guys playing along, enjoying free range to watch us, hold us. I sometimes pressed myself close to Greg, put my arms around his neck, enjoyed his firm shoulders and stomach, pressed my hips to him, feeling his crotch pressing on me, his cock nicely hard expressing the unspoken arousal we both felt.
We had some more to drink, a bottle of vodka passed around between us and the atmosphere ratcheted up to higher levels of arousal and excitement. The beat quickened, the dancing grew wilder, and the couples broke up for a while, all of us utterly involved in movement with the deep, almost threatening beat. It grew hotter and sweatier in the room, there was a fug of testosterone and alcohol pervading the whole room. The guys grew less controlled, looking at us with wolfish grins, scanning from chest to legs without control.
In the heat of the dance, some of the guys discarded their shirts, swinging them around over their heads and I watched Jenny undoing Jack's shirt. Pulling it off him and swinging it around over her head like a trophy. She ran her hands over his shoulders, his rugby club figure, swollen triceps and biceps. She danced behind him and even in the dark, I could see her running her hands down over his hips, feeling his cock in his trousers.
I decided to go for broke and walked up to Greg, let him put his hands back on my bare shoulders, looked up into his eyes and smiled. He knew what was coming, he was, by this time, the only guy wearing a shirt in the room anyway. I grinned, furtively, and then moved my fingers to the buttons at the top of his shirt. I had never undone a guy's shift before. My fingers shook a little as I undid the button, one at a time. My fingers sometimes slipping inside the shirt, feeling his chest, not so developed as Jack, but firm and warm, nonetheless.
I undid the top buttons, it felt innocent enough, and then the lower ones, which did not. My discomfort growing as I exposed more and more of his chest, our bodies still moving together as I did so, the fabric starting to flap open. Eventually it was open, his white chest with a pleasant covering of brown hair now available to me. I moved my hands to his shoulders, ran then inside the shirt, my hands now touching his bare skin, and slipped the shirt off his shoulders.
My hands were tingling as I felt his body, pressed the shirt down his arms and then caught it before it fell to the floor. He was watching my every motion, obviously so aware of my hands on his warm skin. I followed the lead of the others, and swung the shirt above my head, like a trophy before slinging it across the room, onto the pile of warm damp garments that had gathered on the messy bed.
Dancing with Greg without a shirt changed the entire dynamic of it, my hands now on his bare skin, when I pressed myself to him, I felt his body warm and soft next to mine, I could feel my own arousal growing, and I felt sure that I felt his as well as I moved my hips to his. He touched me more boldly, his hands resting on my back, on my bum, on the sides of my body, his wrists on the sides of my breasts.
Jenny was by this time dancing wildly with a couple of the other girls, Miranda and another that I didn't know. She was chatting with Miranda animatedly, they were discussing something that they both found hilarious. I could see a ferocious abandon in her, the way her body moved, her hips and breasts moving with the beat.
Then Miranda, pulled at her dress, lifting it from the hem, and pulled it up over her head, it was tight but so stretchy that it easily came up, and I watched as she pulled it, lifting it over her white thong, and then over a strapless padded bra, nude so that it matched her skin tone. The guys went wild, now seeing her dancing in just her underwear.
