Sideic

Surrounded by women who, judging from the vibe of the room, were generally sympathetic towards me, or at least had some intense curiosity, I felt safe and comfortable. The girl whom I had just... well, I suppose I had assaulted her, really, (but it wasn't my fault. I blame the old lady with the hat), that girl had taken a few moments to collect herself. Now she was blushing. I made a demur gesture of awkward apology, and she nodded in acknowledgement, but we both knew she had enjoyed it.

Eventually, I turned and fixed myself briefly in the mirror, and made my way out into the crowded club. As I moved through the throng, many of the women were looking at me knowingly. Word had traveled fast.

Finally, I found the others at the bar. Erika was looking very friendly with Jeremy. Oh, I mean Steve (he really did look like a Jeremy, though). For his part, he was looking quite comfortable with Erika's close proximity. I supposed her charms had finally penetrated his senses, so he would no longer really care about me. It gave me a stab of something dark and painful. Jealousy? But immediately, that fed into my arousal. Yes, Erika had won the game, and taken my man. Now she was going to rub my face in it all night. It was going to be awful. And by "awful", I suppose I mean awfully hot, because that's the effect it has on me.

She already had a vodka rocks ready for me. She knew how to make me play nice. I took it from her and downed it immediately, then turned to Steve. "I told you Erika was pretty," I said, matter-of-fact. Internally I was skewered by jealousy, humiliation, and inexplicable, undirected lustfulness, but I was truly Erika's obedient little pup.

Steve looked like he was going to correct me, when Erika caught his eye and he stopped. Then he responded evenly, "She's super hot. I'm glad you introduced us. You've done me a real solid there."

There was something strange about his tone and affect. He seemed not to be himself, but I couldn't figure out what was going on. I guessed he was trying to let me down easy. I stood facing him for another moment, remembering his kiss, his genuine affection. Remembering when I was the girl who had his eye, before Erika outshone me. Then I turned to Wayne, the kind of beige, regular, unremarkable guy next to him, and made a show of sizing him up approvingly.

"Hey, Wayne, do you wanna party with me tonight?" I asked, sidling up to him.

He was clearly excited to have my attention, which was nice, but it didn't have the sparks and excitement of when I was with Steve. This was strictly one-way. Wayne just didn't light my fire at all. Not that you'd know it if you saw me. Outwardly, I was like a cat in heat with him.

Behind me, I heard Erika order another round of drinks (on my credit card). She was asserting her dominance. She had defeated me, and now she was extracting her winnings. It made me deeply, darkly aroused. I mean, I could afford it, but he way she had started just spending my money was just he kind of domination I craved. The more she spent, the more dominating she was. Every time I payed the credit card bill, it was an act of submission, a surrender. She was in charge, and I would obey. I was going to need some intense sex before the night was done.

"Heck, yes!" he answered. not hiding his excitement, and placing his arm around me as I moved close to him, purring appreciatively. He was taller than I, and I looked up at him through my lashes, fluttering them. It seemed to have the effect I intended. He looked like he couldn't believe what was happening. To be fair, believing it would have been a mistake, on one level, because I was completely contriving all this, but he certainly was going to get laid, so that much was real.

Erika was whispering something in Steve's ear. I decided to get Wayne out on the dance floor, but before I could, Erika leaned over to Wayne and said, "She should give you her panties."

She always said, "panties". I think she watched too much American porn. Anyway, he obviously knew what she meant. He stiffened up in shock, and his eyes bugged open. He looked at me, possibly to gauge whether he should speak in my defense, given the absurdly offensive remark.

I just returned his stare for a moment, and then asked, with all the faux innocence I could muster, upwards through my lashes, "Would you like that?"

He stuttered, looking from me, to Erika, and back.

"Give them to him," she ordered. I immediately reached up under my dress and lowered them, guiding them down my legs and lifting my pumps through them, one at a time. It was a thong, of course (can't do much else with a tight little black dress!). I held the intimate garment out in front of me, still with an innocent expression, gazing up at him.

He snapped out of his shock to quickly grab them and shove them in his pocket, perhaps a little embarrassed, but clearly excited. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, presumably trying to figure out why all his dreams were coming true. And I would make sure they did.

"Ok, let's dance," Erika once again simply commanded me, (and the boys), and there was no questioning her authoritative tone. We all downed our drinks, and I took Wayne's hand as we all headed into the crowd. I noticed at least three women who were watching me, each with a look of admiration or at least a knowing warmth. They had clearly heard what was going on from the episode in the bathroom, and had just seen my little stunt with my knickers. I guess I was being watched by hundreds of pairs of eyes, by now. Everyone knew my dirty little secret. All these women would be telling the story of my night for a long time to come. I resolved to make it a story worth telling.

I was oddly conscious of my lack of underwear. Of course, you'd never know to look at me, because I had selected that underwear so that it couldn't be seen through the dress. But I knew I was naked under there, and at least a bunch of people who had been watching also knew. Importantly, Erika, Steve, and Wayne knew.

We pushed through the crowd. At my height, shorter than average, my nostrils were assaulted by men's underarm sweat and womens' perfume, alternating in a swirling tease of sensuality. As we reached the outer edge of the dance floor, increasingly the bodies were hemmed in, and writhing to the deep thumping rhythm of the music. The strobes made everything flicker in a dazzling and disconcerting odyssey, and the vodka deconstructed my inhibitions and inflamed my naughtiest inclinations.

We found, or rather sort of made, a space for ourselves and began to dance. Erika wasted no time maneuvering behind me to begin caressing me with unmistakable sexual suggestiveness. Wayne was guy-shuffling in front of me, the way guys do on dance floors, and Steve seemed almost excluded, off to the side. I couldn't worry about that. Wayne was my boyfriend for the evening, not Steve, so Erika would need to be attentive to Steve.

I extended my left arm over Wayne's shoulder so that he was unmistakably dancing with me, despite Erika caressing my body from behind. Her hands exploring my breasts, tummy, thighs, and neck. Wayne was mesmerized by it. I had my right arm raised, but bent at the elbow with my hand dangling behind my head, playing with my hair. This way I was out of Erika's way, allowing her full access to me. It also meant I could lean back and close my eyes, losing myself in the heady scents, the deep pulsing of the music in my abdomen, and strobes of the dance floor exploding behind my closed eyelids.

Presently, Erika moved Steve behind me in her place, and she went behind him. She guided his hands on an exploratory expedition around my body in a repeat of her earlier moves, and she was kissing him deeply from behind as his hands were filled with my breasts, my tummy, the hem of my dress... I could feel his erection in my back when I bumped back into him. Was that for Erika's kiss, or my breasts? I wondered more deeply than was healthy. She was using my body to arouse him, but it would be she who harvested the erotic energy. She would be held by him, ravaged by him. I would be discarded, and thrown to the dogs, a mere consolation prize, handed to the lucky fellow as a sure thing.

Each time my eyes opened I saw Wayne's face, just agape in amazement at the erotic display he was being treated to. I was being groped by his friend and mine, while dancing with him. I used my left arm to pull him towards me. He trapped Steve's right hand on my left breast and the other across my tummy, as I pulled him to me. I kissed him passionately, for a long time, aware the whole time of Steve and Erika's equally deep kissing behind my left ear, and their embrace and caress of my body. My body had become the focal point for two couples. I was the interface, part of both, yet excluded from the one I desired, feeding it with erotic energy, but consigned to the alternative one in the end.

It would have been obvious to anyone looking, that I was the piggy in the middle here. I was the sex toy. I was being molested, happily, by the other three, in a variety of ways. It would have been even more obvious when Erika, her hands having been freed from the collision of bodies, took each side of my dress and started lifting it upwards.

The dress was short. Not obscene, but very short, as little black dresses tend to be. There wasn't much room for lifting it upwards before things did become obscene. It wouldn't take long. I couldn't wait. My kissing of Wayne became more hungry as the danger increased.

Up, up, it inched. Had I not been sandwiched between these two men, I would already have been completely exposed. As it was, all anyone would see was legs, legs, legs, up to my hips. She kept going until it was bunched around my waist. The top of my hips was clearly visible from both sides. Any fool would be able to tell I wasn't wearing anything under it, but still, I was shielded front and back.

I flicked my eyes open from time to time, spotting women in the crowd around us, who watched on with knowing smiles. Some were pointing me out to their dates. Others were perhaps distracting their male companions' eyes from seeing me. It felt like every woman in the place understood my role. Everybody knew.

I kissed Wayne ever deeper. He was my front shield. I needed him there. His probing, thrusting tongue reflected his deep excitement. His hands had traveled down to my hips and had detected my exposed state Surely he would have correlated it with my recently more fevered, urgent kissing. His hands were caressing up and down the sides of my hips, soaking in the nakedness, but perhaps not daring to invade further. Did he worry about breaking the spell by overstepping the mark? He needn't have been concerned. He could have gone anywhere he pleased.

Suddenly, nobody was behind me. No arms were wrapped around from behind and caressing me. Still locked in Wayne's kiss I managed to look to the side to see Erika gyrating away with Steve, leaving me exposed from behind. My hands moved as quickly as possible, but were entangled slightly with Wayne, and he didn't want to stop the kiss, so it took a moment to break away. I yanked my dress down, tugging at various places on the hem, in the awkward dance one does in such situations.

I looked about to see who had noticed. Everyone. The whole crowd was a sea of faces all looking at me, some applauding. I had been exposed to them all, not only in my nakedness, but exposing the fact I was without underwear, which was shameful in itself. I felt the familiar, wicked, red hot rising fever of shame and humiliation, and it drove my arousal even higher.

Erika and Steve backed into the crowd to join in with the spectators. Erika had a wicked gleam in her eye as she made a show of golf-clapping me.

I was blushing. I didn't know which way to look, or what expression to put on my face. I was on all sides the object of fascination. Surely it was scorn and contempt. My mind was suddenly assaulted by my familiar fantasy of being the village whore, paraded naked in the streets to cries of "shame, shame". I soaked it in.

Wayne, to his credit, put his arms around me and encouraged me to keep dancing. On one hand he probably didn't want the moment to end, but really, he rescued me by claiming me as his own. I was no longer a scarlet letter, a town prostitute. I was someone's girlfriend. Wayne's girlfriend. So if anyone had a problem, they would have to deal with him. I kissed him again. This time more genuinely, to express gratitude, although it probably came across as affection.

It was right at that moment that "Groove is in the heart" began playing, and along with all the other girls, I cheered. Every girl my age knows that when that song plays, you're going to slut-drop in the chorus, and it's a lot of fun. So we all started bopping.

Erika moved around behind me, bringing Steve with her. I didn't care. I was bopping with Wayne, waiting for the chorus. I would slut-drop for him, and he would be excited by it. Steve might even be jealous (if he could take his eyes off Erika. Ah, who was I kidding? She was way hotter than me).

Presently, the moment arrived. Just before the kazoo sound signaled the slut-drop, Erika moved in behind me. I guessed we were going to drop together for extra sexiness, so I suspected nothing when her hands clamped onto my thighs. I raised both arms like I was riding a roller coaster, and down I writhed, taking a moment to realize what was happening. Erika wasn't dropping with me, but instead holding my dress hem up so that as I dropped, I emerged, naked, from underneath it! By the time I realized, I was crouched, my bottom half exposed, perched on my two-inch heels. Continuing the maneuver into its ascent was actually the quickest way to become modest again, so up I went and Erika kept the dress hem at that constant height so that as I did, she was restoring my dress to its proper place. By the time I had stood all the way up, I was decent again.

Then I heard it, over the thumping music, the cheer of the dancers around us, who had seen the entirely deliberate wardrobe malfunction scandal unfold. Erika was smiling winningly at all the cheering onlookers, like a victorious gladiator. Fair enough, too. She had won. She tricked me, and stripped me half naked in front of everyone, even forcing me to take part in the humiliation. It was perfect. She totally won that one.

Now I had a choice. If I kept dancing, I was implicitly agreeing to do the same move again at the next chorus. But if I stopped, I was chickening out and party-pooping the game of the whole evening. I looked at Wayne. He was beaming. He had enjoyed it. I looked at Steve. He had an odd, unreadable expression, but he was studying me intently. I couldn't chicken out. What would Steve think? I had so clearly allowed Erika to beat me once by letting her steal him off me. Would I let her humiliate me again by chickening out in front of all these people?

Never.

So on it went. The whole song, at each chorus, down I went, into half-nakedness, and back up into decency. The crowd was clapping along to the music, and those nearest us had stopped dancing and were just enjoying the show. I felt dreadfully, wonderfully exposed, although, if you think about it, Nobody could really see much. My legs were together, and I was crouching down. So that's not so bad..., is it? Wayne again rescued me at the end of the song by sweeping me up into a kiss, again claiming me as his woman and shielding me from some of the shame.

When the song finished, I did my best to look contrite and embarrassed as the crowd again cheered and clapped, despite inwardly being on fire, and more excited than I could remember ever feeling. I signaled to Wayne that we should leave the dance floor, and he eagerly came along with me. The other two also came along. The crowd parted for us in deference. I could feel the admiration and... was that jealousy? of the women around. I pressed forward, through the sweat and the perfume, to find an area with some seating. I needed to cool off before I did anything truly outrageous.