She had no idea what it was, but as she went to pull her panties back up, she spotted the stain. Oh God! There was obviously something disgusting on the edge of the pan; it looked like vomit and smelled foul. She couldn't possibly put them back on now. With some disgust, she gingerly peeled them over her shoes, wrapped them in toilet paper, flushed the toilet and left the cubicle. She dropped the soiled garment into the bin, and carefully washed her hands.
Now what? It was just after 11pm, she was supposed to finish off the night with the girls in the club. She thought about making her excuses and finding the nearest all-night Tesco where she could buy some new panties. But she had a cab booked for 2am, and she'd waited all week for a chance to go out with the girls. Oh sod it! It wasn't obvious that she had no panties on, although her skirt was a bit short, but if some perv decided to look up her skirt, then good luck to him. If she was wearing some of the thongs she'd seen recently, it would be hard to tell the difference anyway.
She walked back, a little self-consciously, to where her friends were sitting. They were gossiping away in their normal excitable, slightly raucous way, and didn't notice how Sarah sat down, quite self-consciously, carefully crossing her legs. Zoe was holding forth about some old groper in her office. Sarah knew the man concerned, having worked at the same company a few years earlier, and felt that she exaggerated a bit, but then, that was Zoe.
Around ten years her junior, they had met when Zoe was a new graduate assigned to Sarah's department. Sarah liked the girl's attitude -- getting on and getting the work done, but never taking things too seriously. They had become friends, rather than boss and employee, and were still good buddies several years after Sarah had moved on. Although several of the girls were also people she had worked with, most of her current crowd she'd met through Zoe, who had involved her in a lot of social events. At 38, Sarah was the oldest of the group, and the girls sometimes referred to her as 'the Boss'. However, they rarely made her feel the age gap -- she was just one of the girls.
They sat and gossiped for a while until the place began to warm up, then most of them went for a prolonged session on the floor. After about 45 minutes, they took a break. Most of them returned to their seats, and a couple of the girls went to the loo. Sarah drank some of her water -- the wine in these places was undrinkable and most of the cocktails were far too sweet -- and looked around. The seating area round the bar was raised up, and she could see the dancers bobbing up and down on the dance floor. There were some guys standing around the edge of the floor, leaning or sitting on the outside of the platform. She saw that one was looking straight at her. He was actually rather attractive, which made a pleasant change; fit, long, thick dark hair, nice dark eyes and high cheekbones. As their eyes met, he grinned and gave her the 'thumbs up' sign. She smiled back, happy to be given appreciation by a man obviously some years younger than herself -- especially as she was surrounded by younger and potentially more attractive girls.
Then it dawned on her -- the seats opposite her were unoccupied. From where he stood, he could see under the table and straight up her short skirt. Her look of surprise must have registered, because as she hurriedly crossed her legs, her admirer grinned and winked. She blushed. Then she thought 'sod it', and very deliberately uncrossed and opened her legs again, sliding slightly forward on her stool so that her skirt rode up a little higher. 'Let's see what he makes of that!' she thought, resuming eye contact as she took a sip of a vodka and tonic that Abi had just set down in front of her.
She wondered whether she'd gone too far; whether the boy would nudge his friends and draw their attention to her nakedness. Instead he just gave her the 'OK' sign, thumb and index finger joined in a circle, other fingers raised, pursed his lips and leaned on the side of the bar platform, admiring the view. She acted nonchalant, though her heart was pounding. This was so unlike her. She'd had a fraction of the alcohol her friends had consumed, and she was surprised that, instead of hurriedly moving away to the anonymity of the toilets, she was brazenly displaying herself to a complete -- and, she had to admit, a rather hunky -- stranger. And he kept looking, admiring the view she was presenting to him. The situation was making her more than a little excited.
"C'mon you tarts -- time for another bop!" Zoe's voice cut through her reverie. The girls were all getting to their feet for another session, possibly the last of the night as it was now after 1am and she had to leave by 2. She carefully stood up and headed towards the dance floor, watching the guy out of the corner of her eye. She lost sight of him as she and her friends squeezed through the crush, so she just started dancing, assuming (slightly dejectedly) that she'd never see him again.
Ten minutes later, she turned around in mid-move and bumped into someone -- the guy from the bar area. He smiled and started to dance opposite her. She was impressed -- he certainly could move, in a way that few blokes could. He knew how to move his hips and arms, rather than adopting the rather pathetic 'hopping from one foot to the other' style adopted by most men she'd met. He was also very fit -- lean, quite tall -- and undoubtedly not a day over 25, probably younger. That put him into the 'toyboy' category, and she assumed he was doing the toying -- with her. Conversation being impossible on the dance floor, she just went with the flow and made lots of eye contact, enjoying the attention and the rather envious glances of the girls around her.
Then, after about another fifteen minutes of dancing, the DJ put on a tune that she loathed. She pulled a face, and as if sensing his cue, the boy took her hand and led the way through the crowd to a quieter area at the back, known informally as "snoggers' corner". Here, the lights were low, the music a bit quieter -- it was just possible to hold a conversation if you leaned close enough -- and there was seating. Or more correctly, there were long, padded benches covered in dimly visible couples in various states of undress and initial stages of copulation.
The boy glanced around, and seeing nowhere to sit, pulled her gently up against the wall and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a surprise -- soft, sensuous and very welcome. She responded enthusiastically, as his arms moved around her. Her hands slid down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles through his rather damp t-shirt. Her dress, which had a low back, gave him ample opportunity to touch her skin, something to which she had no objection at all, as his fingers seemed to set up little electric shocks wherever they met her exposed flesh. His thigh moved between hers, and she could feel it press the skirt of her dress firmly against her pussy. A tingling between her legs told her how wet she had become.
When he finally broke the kiss, he switched his attention to her throat and the side of her neck, gradually nibbling his way up to her ear. "Seems you've been a forgetful girl tonight", he murmured. (Actually, he probably said it quite loudly, but the music was so loud it was almost as if he was whispering to her). She was a little puzzled and didn't reply for a moment. His hand snaked downwards, cupping her bottom, and deftly inserting a long finger into the back of her slit. The jolt of pleasure made her gasp. She realised what he meant.
"Well, I..." She realised that telling him the story of how she had become panty-less would hardly enhance the mood, so she opted for a different tack. "Oh, yes, I have been a careless girl, haven't I?" She moved her hands down to cup his hard buttocks, pulling his thigh into firmer contact with her mound. He slipped his finger a little deeper into her slit, teasing the entrance to her vagina. Ooh -- very nice.
He resumed kissing her, one finger stroking and now probing her slit, his other hand sliding round to capture a breast. She could feel the hardness of his body through his clothes. She slid her hand round from his hard bum, around his hip to rest on the outline of his equally hard cock through his tight trousers. This was getting very interesting. Now all she needed was...
"Taxis for Baxter, Patterson, Fisher and Galbraith"
The music had faded, and the DJ was as usual using the pause to announce the arrival of cabs -- including the one she was to share with Abi. Shit! She quickly glanced at her watch -- it was nearly ten past 2, and the cab had probably been waiting a while. What to do? Ask him home with her? Tricky, as she was staying the night with Abi in her tiny flat. There wasn't room for a guy. She couldn't change her plans and take the longer journey to her own home unless he had transport -- the last train was long gone. Perhaps see if she could go home with the new boy...
"That's my cab. Looks like I've got to go -- unless...."
"Shit! Yeah, they called mine as well, and I'm sharing with three mates. Can't I go back with you?"
"Sorry, not tonight." She almost sobbed with frustration. She was soaking wet and getting desperate to get his face and his cock between her legs, in any sequence. He was the hottest man -- boy -- she'd seen in ages and he was about to slip away.
