This is Part 3 of a series. Please read Part 1 to make sense of it.
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Word spread about the body painting I did at the raves. A few more party promoters got in touch with me. Before long, I was spending my weekend evenings painting ravers and partiers.
I grew to hate the larger parties. They were for-profit gigs, filled with drunk wannabe-gangsters driving up from their parent's suburban homes. The smaller ones were more intimate, part of the true underground scene. The people who went to those were the outsiders, the freaks and artists. And I liked the raw spaces, the old warehouses and the industrial basements, filled with odd rooms and abandoned machinery. There was an edge to those spaces, a lack of order that allowed people to be looser than usual, less constrained by the usual expectations.
I felt my body painting was part of that looseness. It was another door that people could step through and become their other, wilder self. I thought that the few women I had hooked up with were part of that. They were letting their wild, exhibitionist side out. But I learned that in that respect they were amateurs. I finally met a true exhibitionist.
I had set up in the back corner, as usual. The rave was been held in what must have been an old industrial factory. A main space was flanked by hallways leading to smaller rooms, creating a maze of dance spaces and chill rooms. Each room was decorated differently, and lit differently. There was one lit only by black light. A Chill room had several over-sized pillows thrown on the floor, some red light, and not much more. An open invitation to amorous couples.
I was in one of the dance rooms, in the back. There was no theme to the night, just dancers and ravers dressed in their craziest outfits, showing their true colors. I had painted several people already, spreading wings on backs, adding flourishes to faces, patterns to legs and arms.
I noticed her dancing near by. She was tall brunette in a short white dress. It was hard to tell if the dress was short or if she was just wearing a long shirt. It buttoned all the way up the front, with some frilly lace around the collar. She had a wide belt around her waist and knee high boots on her feet. There was a vague pirate feel to her outfit. The bottom button of her dress was undone, letting a long length of thigh show every time she moved. The top three buttons were also undone, letting a black bra peek out from time to time. She was pretty, and sexy, and she was looking at me.
She sauntered over to my booth. She leaned in to speak into my ear. The place was loud so she had to come close. "Do you do anything for black light?" she asked. "I have UV paint, yeah" I replied. "Do my face" she said, plopping herself down on my low stool, face up, a sly grin on her face.
"Any preference?" I asked. "Give me big eyes" she said, tracing her fingers over her eyes and face.
I started tracing thin lines over her face in the UV paint, like long butterfly wings. From my vantage point, standing over her, I could see straight down her gaping shirt. Her full breasts were barely held back by her black bra, a mostly see-through thin mesh of a thing. Her nipples were clearly outlined by the fabric. I watched them grow harder. I tried to focus and not poke her eyes out.
Too soon, I was finished.
She stood up and looked around for the small mirror I kept. "You can't see it until you're under the black light!" I shouted. She pouted. "Can I borrow this?" she asked, holding up the hand mirror. I hesitated for a second. She grabbed my hand. "Come with me, it'll only take a second"
I let this beautiful woman lead me away. The whole exchange had a playful note underneath it, like a game of cat and mouse she was playing, and I was definitely the mouse.
We walked through a few rooms, me trailing behind her. Finally we reached the black light room. It was almost pitch black, apart from the small DJ table set in the corner. From time to time a flash of strobe light illuminated the dancers, but for the most part all you could see was dark shapes under the black lights. All the white pieces of clothing glowed eerily, giving the place a strange feel as seemingly empty shirts or gloves floated around. The neon bracelets and hair ties in the girl's hair added a splash of color to the dance. Some, wearing neon fishnet, became colorful, disembodied legs dancing in the dark.
She turned to me. Her face had blossomed in white filigree under the UV lights. She made me hold up the mirror so that she could see the effect. She squealed with delight. Under the black light, her white shirt was glowing equally brightly, matching her decorated face. Everything else was dark, barely seen.
She grabbed my hand again and pulled me away, back towards my paint station. In one of the less loud portion of our walk, she turned to me. "I'm Penelope, by the way, nice to meet you." We ceremoniously shook hand. "Can I ask you something?" she said, biting her lower lip in a way that left no doubt that it was calculated, and usually worked. "Of course" I replied.
"Do you ever do full body stuff?" My heart started to beat a little faster. "Of course." She took my hand again to lead me away. "Good" she said over her shoulder.
She led me straight back to the painting station. She placed herself in the middle of it, hands on her hips. She looked straight at me. "So, do you do boobs?" She was looking at me, watching for my reaction. I played it cool, though a slight smile crossed my lips. "It's my specialty." I replied.
She smiled, holding my gaze a little longer. She was obviously trying to decide if she could trust me, if she had found in me a co-conspirator. I just reached for my paint gun and held it up, ready to paint. I arched my eyebrow, waiting, daring her.
Penelope half smiled. She didn't remove her shirt but opened it further, undoing two, then three more buttons, pushing it open to her belly. She then simply undid her bra from the front. She pulled her arms through the straps, keeping her dress on. With a mock flourish she tossed her bra on my stool and put her hands on hips, her breast jutting proudly out of her opened dress. Her pink nipples were rock hard little nubs.
I pushed her shirt a little more open with one finger. Her breasts were round and high, a solid B cup. They looked perfect to me. I applied a stencil over her nipples, the same pattern I used on her face. Her lips quivered as the forced air brushed over the sensitive skin of her nipples and breast. I outlined her breast in paint, accenting the curve of it, tracing it out in thin lines and leafy patterns. The first breast was done quickly. I move to the second. This time she turned a bit towards me, offering it to me.
I brushed some air over the hard nipple, not even laying down paint. My paint gun drew lazy circles around it, watching her body react. Her eyes closed for a second. I watched a flush spread over her chest as her breath became quicker. The cold of the first drop of paint made her pop her eyes open. She watched me under lidded eyes as I finished applying the stencil and the paint.
I stepped back, finished.
Penelope stood there with her shirt opened. You couldn't see the paint under the normal lights. She was standing there in public, half exposed, without even the cover of an excuse for her nakedness. She was about to close her shirt but I stopped her. With exaggerated care I blew softly on her breasts, as if to dry the paint.
She laughed nervously, perhaps to hide the shiver I saw run down her body. Finally I stepped back and she closed her dress, no bothering to button it. Her breasts were hidden, but the long opened front made it obvious she wore nothing underneath.
With a wave Penelope walked away, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me. I watched her go, her ass swaying with an extra swagger. I stood there with my air brush in hand for about half a minute, trying to figure out what to do next. Finally I followed my instinct. Follow her!
I made my way through the dance rooms until I stood again at the entrance to the dark black lit lounge. I spotted her almost immediately. Penelope was only a dozen feet away, her white dress glowing. The only other thing you could see was the white filigree on her face. When she turned, the deep black V of her opened dress was broken only by the swirls of glowing paint on her breasts.
I leaned against the entrance, watching her dance. She swayed slowly in time with the music, raising her arms above her head then lowering them down along her sides, pulling the fabric further open. A sleeve fell off her shoulder, exposing her that much more. Under the black lights her right breast, her exposed breast, hovered and shimmied outlined in bluish white tendrils of paint. I couldn't see the expression on her face, but I could see which way she was looking. Her face paint was like a glowing mask, the whites of her eyes burning in their black sockets, aimed straight at me.
She continued dancing for a few more minutes, me watching, her knowing I was watching. She moved her hips in great lazy circles, her shoulder and breast still bare. Finally she came to me. She stepped from the black lit room to the hallway where I was standing, normal light spilling over her. The sight took my breath.
She hadn't closed her dress. Her hair was heavy with sweat, falling in thick streams over her naked shoulder. Her dress was half off, barely hanging off of her left shoulder. Her right breast stood proudly naked, framed by a few strands of brown hair, her nipple pink and hard. It looked like her belt was the only thing still keeping her dress from falling off her body. She had undone the lower buttons, letting the dress part every time she took a step. Under her dress she had worn her finest Batman underroos, the yellow logo drawing the eye to her crotch.
"Enjoying yourself?" She asked. "Very much so" I replied.
"Don't you have anybody else to paint?" The question was a challenge, but her eyes, and her smile, told me that she wasn't unhappy to have me as an audience.
"They can wait." I said, shrugging.
"Really? And are you waiting for something?" She was looking me straight in the eye.
"I'm just enjoying the scenery" I said, motioning to the people dancing behind her, my hand sweeping around. I was very aware of how close my hand came to her bare nipple. I think she could sense it too. We both glanced down at her bare breast at the same time.
She took a step back. I had a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Did I misread the situation? Was she offended?
