Part 1
The blonde in the corner is watching us.
I know the look. The hidden smile. The lowered eyes. The occasional hair toss. It's so obvious, she's been trying to make eye contact with Michael all evening.
Some people have no subtlety.
I think about the ridiculousness of the whole situation. I am here at a very boring cocktail party full of people I don't know and probably will never see again, watching a woman I've never seen before making eyes at my date. Granted, he's a dish – tall, dark, and unexpectedly bashful about it, as if he'd simply woken up with a new face one morning and still can't believe it belongs to him.
Very well. If it's attention she wants, then that's what she'll get.
We make our way gradually over to the corner, on the pretext of getting another drink. I sidle up next to her, look her right in the eye.
"I'm Cris," I say by way of introduction, "and this is Michael."
Nobody breathes.
"You were looking at my date, weren't you?" She doesn't say anything but drops her gaze, guilty as charged. "He's nice, isn't he?" She nods hesitantly. Michael blushes. "Go on, I think he's rather nice myself. What's your name, then?"
"K-Kelly," she stammers.
"Well, K-Kelly, you've certainly got Michael's attention now. Was there something in particular you wanted to show him?"
I trail my fingertips lightly down the skirt covering back of her thigh. The hem of the skirt comes just down past her knee, with a small slit in the back to allow greater movement. I keep my hand there a while, flicking one of the open flaps back and forth between my thumb and forefinger.
"What do you think, Michael? Would you like to make a guess as to what she's got on underneath?"
Michael doesn't answer. His face is red and he swallows hard. I take that as an invitation to go on.
"What about you, Kelly, anything to offer?" I slip my hand inside the open slit of her skirt, brush my finger lightly against the back of her bare thigh. I can feel the muscle quiver.
I pull in closer to her. Her whole body's trembling. "I bet you're just dying to show us what you've got on under your dress, aren't you?" My voice caresses her ear. She whimpers.
My hand continues stroking the back of her thigh, moving upwards ever so slowly, lifting her skirt up slightly in the process. She makes a weak effort to pull it back down, but then just keeps her hands in front of her, trying to keep the front of the skirt from rising much higher. Michael is watching in fascination, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
My fingers encounter lace, then nylon. I can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her panties. She's bent over slightly now, still trying to hold down the front of her skirt, which gives her ass a wonderful rounded contour. Her buttocks are firm and smooth.
No reason to hurry, my fingers continue exploring, softly stroking Kelly's ass, tracing the fine nylon where it stretches tightly across the cleft between her buttocks, following it all the way down between her thighs. My fingertip rests there between her legs for a moment, pressing into her heat.
"Oh yes, you're hot now, aren't you?" My lips graze her ear, close enough to feel the fine hairs move with my breath. Her face is flushed, ragged breathing her only reply. The heat coming off her body is incredible. "I'll give you a choice: would you like to tell Michael here what you've got on under your skirt – or shall we just let him see for himself?"
---
Kelly doesn't answer. Her eyes are wide with uncertainty and something a little like fear. "What – what are you doing?" she whispers. "Not in front of – all these people."
I press my finger a little harder between her legs, tracing little circles against her panty-covered crotch. Her body quivers in response. Her hands are clenched tight, holding the front of her skirt to her thighs, her knuckles white with tension.
"I could grab these panties right now," I continue, "right here between your legs, and pull them down to your knees. Would you like that?"
"No," she whispers.
"Well, it looks as if we've got a bit of a problem then. Because one way or another you're going to show me."
The floodgates open and the tears start falling. "Please," she says, "at least let's go to the ladies' room. Not – out here."
"All right. We'll go to the ladies' room" With a final twist of my fingers I remove my hand from under her skirt. I let her watch Michael sniff my fingertips for a second while I whisper in his ear. Then I take Kelly by the arm, and we head for the bathrooms, just two regular girls off to powder our noses.
A couple other women are in the bathroom when we get there. I pretend to fix my lipstick until they leave, then turn on Kelly with a smile.
"Well now, looks like we're alone." I press in close to her. I can smell her scent, perfume laced with the sweaty undertone of fear. I slide my hand down her lower belly to cup her groin through her skirt. She whimpers. I curl my fingers.
With a sob she takes a step back and reaches down to her skirt. Slowly, without meeting my eyes, she starts to raise it.
A knock on the door interrupts us. Michael walks in, looking like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. "Am I too late?"
Kelly looks at me in a panic. "I thought this was private!"
"Wrong," I counter. "I never said Michael wasn't invited."
Kelly moans and slumps against the wall.
Part 2
Michael saunters into the bathroom, grinning.
"You're just in time," I tell him. "Kelly was just about to give us a show."
Kelly cringes against the toilet stall. "I can't do that," she whimpers.
Michael goes into the double-wide handicapped stall at the far end of the room and sits down on the edge of the toilet. I put my arm around Kelly's shoulders and guide her in after him, latching the stall door behind us. It's a close fit, and gives me another chance to press her body against me again, to inhale her scent. She's mine and she knows it.
I turn her so she's facing Michael, me standing behind her. I slip my leg between hers, easing her knees apart slightly. My pelvis rubs against the curve of her rump. I reach around to the front of her skirt and slowly start bunching the material up in my fingers.