Girl at the Party

I tipped back my bottle of beer and looked at the party around me. I'd never been to a party like this. Radiohead played softly on the stereo, and hipster types in horn-rimmed glasses and vintage T-shirts mingled around the fashionably tacky green sofas and chairs. I felt like I'd reached a milestone in my career writing for It, a magazine that covered the latest in indie rock and music-industry politics. Well, not exactly writing for them, more like shuttling their writing from one desk to another. But as an intern, I knew I had a possibility for career advancement.

"Ana! How are you doing?" I turned to Nick, the guy who'd been trying to hit on me for the past hour. "Haven't seen you in, like, ten minutes!" I gave him a perfunctory nod and smile. Then, from across the room, I noticed a familiar swarthy male face.

"Hey Nick, isn't that Tristan Smith from The Burning? I swear he is," I said, gesturing.

"Might very well be. Y'know, Lori Goldstein is here. That chick from Ryback-Bryant, your favorite band, y'know." When Nick said that name, I swear, it sent a chill through me. Lori Goldstein. The hottest woman to ever pick up a guitar. Frontwoman of my favorite indie band. Well-known lesbian, although nobody ever said anything about it.

The shock must have shown on my face, 'cause Nick let out a low chuckle and said, "She's right there across the room. See? Chandra's talkin' to her! Let's go over there and talk to them." I followed his pointing hand, and sure enough- Lori Goldstein was talking to my boss, laughing and holding a glass of red wine. And before I had time to protest, Nick was dragging me across the room to meet my idol.

I smoothed my long hair, knee length skirt and lacy tank top before Lori could meet my eye. I looked up, and saw that I was nearly five feet from her now. The sheer shock of the moment prevented me from saying anything.

"Well hello again, Ana. And Nick! What brought you here?" He muttered back something politely. "I'm sure you all recognize this girl here, Lori Goldstein from Ryback-Bryant. I nodded and smiled, holding out my cold nervous hand. She smiled and shook it. I recognized that she was trying to tell me something with those dark eyes of hers, but couldn't figure it out.

"I'm Ana Cholak. I intern at It." She murmured a hello, and I watched her greet Nick.

"Well, I'm going to go run off and say hello to Tristan Smith's sound engineer over there. Have fun!" Nick must have wandered off with her, because all of a sudden I was alone next to Lori Goldstein. She was shorter and thinner than I had expected, her breasts small but assertive underneath her green T-shirt and masculine brown blazer. She wore blue jeans that clung to her thighs. I gave her a generic smile, admiring the curl of her short dark hair, full mouth, dark eyes, Jewish nose. I reminded myself that this was the same woman who kicked, jumped, and ferociously whirled her guitar neck onstage, and felt myself get wet between the thighs.

"So are you a student?" she asked, sipping her wine. I laughed, high and nervous.

"Yep, I'm an English major at UC. The workload is hard, but I'm not about to give up my job at It.", I replied. "So....um....how has the touring been going?" She smiled again.

"Wonderful. We played the Fox last night, were you there?" I nodded. It was the first time I'd seen Ryback-Bryant live, and I swear I had an orgasm when I heard them play the first chord. "Some guy threw a sock at me onstage. Remember?" I didn't really, but nodded anyway. I remembered her getting mad, but forgot at what. "I got really mad. I hate it when the fans throw things at us onstage. It's like they're disrespecting us."

"I'm sorry," I said, rather lamely. Suddenly, Lori changed. She put her hand on my shoulder and I had no idea what was going to happen. "They've got a dance floor in the other room. Let's go dance!" She took my hand, and led me out of the living room into a smaller room with a wooden dance floor. They had a boom box playing OutKast's heavy rap beats, and handful of people laughed and gyrated on the floor.

Lori began to swivel on her hips. "You like dancing?" she asked me, with a certain slant in her voice. She gave me a searching, intuitive look.

"I love to dance," I replied softly. I swung my body around, not believing who I was dancing in front of. Normally I would have been more guarded, but the beer got to my head and I started shaking my hips, twirling around and generally acting like a total fool. Lori seemed to like it, though. She bent down to the floor, like that old Twist dance, and coming up, laid her hands on my waist. I put my arms around her shoulders, and my body met hers gingerly. Her breasts pressed soft against mine, and I felt her hands travel the span of my thighs, curve of hips, to grab my ass. I must have looked surprised, because she looked me in the eye. And then suddenly her soft strong mouth was on mine and I kissed back, felt my thigh meet the warm place between her legs as our tongues danced. We ground our hips together.

"Y'wanna get out?" Lori suggested. I nodded. She led me out of the room. I must have looked like I'd seen a corpse, 'cause she looked at me closely and asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." A funny thought came to me, and I asked, "Are you?" Lori looked into the distance, and said,

"Yes. My partner broke up with me last night." Then, "Please don't tell anyone about this, understand?" I nodded, and laid a hand around her shoulders.

"You want to do this?" I asked her. She laughed, and said,

"Where's a couch?" We stumbled around in the little room, and I collapsed onto the nearest loveseat. Lori fell down on top of me, and my panties flooded. She sucked hungrily and angrily at my mouth, and stuck her thin hands up my shirt to roll my breasts in her hands. She pinched at my nipples, and I gasped and rose up at the shock of pleasure. I wanted to pull off her shirt and have my way with hers, but the way she pulled my shirt off of me told me that she was the driver here.

Lori kissed me hungrily again, digging her hot crotch into my thigh as I dug my fingernails into her back. She slid her tongue into my ear, and I yelped and sighed as a chill went through me. Sucking down my neck, to my breasts...my nipples swelled and reddened as she ran her tongue around them, and she reached up under my skirt. She found my clit instantly, and pressed at its fleshy head through the damp cotton of my panties. I writhed up and gave a cry. "Lori, I can't take it anymore. I have to feel your skin," I said, pushing her off of me.

"You wanna touch me?" she asked.

"I wanna fuck you. Hard," I replied, and bit into her neck.

"Well, you'll just have to wait." She got back on top of me, and teased my clit until I was just on the edge of a painful, sharp orgasm. Then, she lowered her head between my thighs, pulled down my panties, and took my throbbing clit into her mouth. My pussy dripped with heat, and she stuck two...three fingers inside me, hitting the roof of my G-spot with her fingertips. I remembered the way her fingers moved on the guitar neck the night before, so definite and sure of what she was doing... realized that she was playing me like a guitar. That thought sent me over the edge, and I came with a high yelp. My pussy clamped down on her fingers as she pulled out.

"I want to get back to the party. Is that okay?" she asked, fiddling with the edge of her shirt.

"Lori..." Post-coital bliss made me bold. "I want to do for you what you did for me." She looked at me, with my panties still down around my thigh and my makeup all smeared. She came to me, and kissed me with most of the same hunger as before.

"Of course. You get on top," she said, and we changed positions. Now I was in charge. I kissed her, sucking on her full mouth and running my fingers deep into her crop of dark hair. I yanked on the hem of her shirt, pulled it up and over her head, sucked and kissed my way down her neck to her beautiful small breasts. The nipples were pointy and dark, and I rolled them around in my fingertips before taking them into my mouth. Lori moved her hips under me, letting out a slow sigh. I ran my hand down the nearly straight line of her torso down to her boyish hips and small, sculpted ass. I kissed down her belly, unzipped her jeans and pulled down her black cotton panties...

She was shaved! No hair, just clean pale lines of labia. I gave a little giggle, and she looked at me and said, "I have a hair phobia. I have to shave it all off 'cause I can't stand it." I giggled again. I'd always imagined her with a full triangle of hair. I caressed her muscled thighs, and slowly slid them open. Kneeling by the couch, I buried my tongue in her spicy, damp pussy and teased her clit with my lips. It rose to meet the tip of my tongue, and Lori let out a little moan. My hands on both her hips, she squirmed and arched her pelvis. My thighs were soaking. I slid two fingers into her and thumbed her clit. I moved them in and out as she moaned and sighed, far away from me in her pleasure. Then her pussy closed itself down on my fingers, again and again.... my pussy clenched in response to hers. Lori sighed deeply and I pulled my fingers out.

I touched her hip kind of sadly.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah," she said, touching mine. We kissed that slow after-sex kiss, and she pulled herself to her elbows and instantly found her briefs and T-shirt. I fumbled around for my clothes.

"I hope I see you again...you know, sometime..."I said. My words faded. I knew that I would never fuck Lori again, and we would never become close. My college life grounded me, and Lori's life of touring and interviewing and writing music took her all over the place. She was herself, and I was myself.

"Don't worry about it, Ana." Lori kissed me one more time, softly. I slipped on my black dress shoes, and we stood. "Thank you," she said. I kissed her in reply. I was too proud to ask for her autograph.

We said goodbye, and she vanished into the party. I got in my car, and drove home to my boyfriend's and my apartment.