Dancing Into Abandon

“You want me to take this off?” She asked.

The girl’s hands clutched her tight lycra shirt, hugging it protectively against her bosom as she danced. Hoots and cat-calls came from the group of guys packed into chairs and sofas around her. To their delight, she began to work the thin material up her body, exposing a toned belly, and above, the bottom curves of her satin bra.

In the background, Mia Parisi quietly arranged trays of cold cuts and sliced fruit. After catering a number of bachelor parties, she was used to ignoring this scene.

And secretly, overt displays of sexuality made her nervous. A dancer was clearly comfortable with her body, and confident enough to tease men with it. In Mia’s mind, it took a woman to do that, and in many ways she still felt like a girl. So, all things considered, it wasn’t too hard for her to tune out the hubbub.

But then the room fell silent. Mia glanced up.

The music had slowed, and the dancer was swaying like a willow in the wind. Her top was off, and her hand was traveling slowly across her upper body. Moving gently, almost in slow motion, she touched her bra, running her fingers across the curved satin cup. Then she touched the flesh above, tracing a little pattern across her breast.

Her fingers found the bra strap, and followed it upwards. She caressed her smooth shoulder, moving in little circles, finally easing the strap off her body. As it fell, the bra sagged under the weight of her breast, her cleavage straining against it's compromised support.

The men were enraptured, their cat-calls momentarily forgotten. The dancer basked in the warm, electric silence. Sensing the collective trance her body had induced, she smiled.

The smile was contagious. Mia found herself grinning, too. She forgot about the catering for a moment, letting the energy of the room wash over her. It gave Mia an odd feeling in her belly – a nervous warmth, which spread up to her chest, and down between her legs.

But something else was there too, swimming in her insides. Something painful. Mia probed it, searching for the source, scanning the scene before her. As she watched, the dancer continued. She was half-naked now in front of an audience of strangers, and yet her every move was full of womanly confidence.

And just then, Mia knew what she was feeling.

It was envy.

~o~

In the hotel hallway, an athletic young man staggered, grunting with strain.

The cooler, laden with drinks and ice, was surprisingly heavy in Brendan Green’s hands. He was also trying to balance a stack of red plastic cups on top, and they wobbled dangerously back and forth as he walked.

Brendan stopped in front of a sign that read ‘Bachelor Party – Invite Only’. He had seen that sign hundred times working as a caterer. Tonight, though, it took on new meaning. Soon Brendan himself was getting married, to his beautiful fiancé, Mia.

But Brendan didn’t really want a Bachelor Party. Secretly, he was afraid of them, afraid of what he might do. He had seen it happen, many times. After a few drinks, the groom inevitably wants the dance to turn into a lap dance. And the lap dance sometimes turns into...other things.

No need to tempt fate, Brendan thought. Because after all, a dancer was deliberately hired to tempt the groom into one more romp. It was her job. And Brendan rarely saw a stripper turn the sexual advances down – it came with the territory.

Suddenly, a strange image flashed in Brendan’s head. It was of Mia, his fiancé, the caterer. She was at a Bachelor Party. But instead of being in the background, she was in front of the men. She was the dancer. Her clothes were off, she was surrounded by strangers, and she was being coaxed into...other things.

Brendan shook his head, dissipating the image.

“What the hell was that?” He said to himself. A fantasy? Or a premonition? It had the qualities of both, and it left a trace of excitement and fear in his blood.

For a moment, Brendan was almost afraid to open the door in front of him. He knew Mia was on the other side of it. And he knew she was probably behind the tables, arranging cheese and crackers, just like always.

But what if she wasn’t? There was something eerily real about the image he had seen.

He laughed out loud. It was probably just his over-active imagination. But as he reached for the doorknob, his hand shook just a little.

~o~

Brendan lugged the cooler inside the Event Room, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

Music pulsed. The dancer moved rhythmically in front of the seated men. Both her bra straps were off, and as she danced she carefully worked to keep the cups from falling forward, showing just enough flesh to keep the guys excited, but little enough to keep them frustrated and wanting more.

Against his will, Brendan’s body was aroused. Such overt, confident expressions of sexuality were an incredible turn-on for many men, and Brendan was not immune. All the more reason not to have a Bachelor Party of his own, he thought.

Then his mind went back to the image he had seen in the hallway, of Mia dancing like that. He smiled. Watching a real dancer at work, the idea became absurd. The dancer was so confident in her sexuality. She held the attention of the room in her hands like a scarf, twisting and sliding it across the curves of her body. Mia just didn’t have that kind of stuff in her nature. She wasn’t a prude, just...girlish.

Where was Mia? Brendan’s attention shifted away from the dancer, peering into the shadowy rear of the room. And sure enough, Mia was there, like always.

And yet, something was different. Brendan looked closer.

Mia hovered behind the catering tables, but her attention wasn’t on the food. She was watching the scene in front of her. Her big green eyes were half-lidded, as if in a hazy dream. Her body swayed gently back and forth, a muted mimic of the dancer’s gyrations.

For a moment Brendan almost didn’t recognize his fiancée. The look in her eyes, the way her body was moving - she looked like...a woman? It was an entrancing sight, and he momentarily forgot about the heavy cooler in his hands, and just admired her.

Mia’s beauty had always been of the ‘quiet but stunning’ variety. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup or revealing clothes. Tonight her long, silky black hair was pulled back in a functional bun, held in place with a pencil. For catering work she dressed in formal slacks and a blouse, a white apron over all.

But the slacks couldn’t completely hide the toned legs - the dark material hugged the tight curves of her thighs and rump. The blouse did a good job of leaving her arms and belly a mystery, but it couldn’t hide the swell of her bosom under the apron. The minimal makeup only seemed to accentuate her heavy lips, her olive skin, and the liquid green of her eyes. Her Mediterranean ancestry had flowered beautifully in her body.

Yes, Brendan thought, Mia had a body built for sin – which made her sweet, innocent nature all the more difficult to understand. But it wasn’t really her fault - Mia had been raised in a strictly religious home, gone to private school, worn a uniform for most of her adolescence, the whole bit. And though she had grown apart from her history in many ways, sex and her body remained areas of quiet tension.

And yet at the moment, swaying back and forth in the shadows, the girl seemed truly at home in her woman’s body.

Brendan quietly set the cooler down and moved up behind Mia. He slid his big hands onto her hips and kissed the back of her neck.

“Mmmm...” Mia purred hazily. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, just watching the dance.” Brendan said.

“Yeah, me too.” Mia said. Then she understood what he meant – that she was the one he had been watching - and she tensed. The trance was broken, and her body ceased its rhythmic swaying. “Oh.” She said, laughing self-consciously. “Well, show’s over.” Mia disengaged from his embrace, turning her attention back to the trays of food.

Brendan sighed. It was still Mia, alright. He watched her arrange slices of cheese fastidiously.

“I liked your dancing better.” Brendan said, trying to rekindle the spark he had seen. Mia gave Brendan an admonishing frown, but she was flattered, and her lips were soon struggling to contain a grin. She felt giddy. Even those brief moments dancing in front of Brendan were giving her a happy little rush. Her hips started swaying to the music again. Mia bent farther over the hors d’oeuvres in front of her, giving Brendan a nice view of her ass as it moved.

But Mia wasn’t conscious of her body at that moment. Her attention was on the dancer. The woman’s hands were on the cups of her bra, and the guys were begging her to remove it. Absently, Mia’s hand drifted up, adjusting her own bra.

Then she felt Brendan lean against her from behind, his hand meeting hers just under the heavy curve of her breast. She patted his hand away, but he brought it right back. To Brendan’s surprise, she let it stay.

“Isn’t it...interesting?” Mia whispered, watching the faces of the men. She hoped none of them would turn and see her bent over the table being groped. The deep shadows were comforting, or she would have pushed her fiancé off right there.

“Very.” Brendan breathed, quietly undoing a button on Mia’s blouse. Her heart skipped a beat. Could the men see into the shadows if they turned around? Her apron was covering her fairly well, so she let Brendan’s fingers continue. Another button opened, and another. Soon her breasts, clad in a cotton bra, were exposed under the apron. Mia’s heart was racing, her palms sweaty. She spoke to distract her mind.

“I wonder where she learned to dance like that.” Mia said. Brendan barely heard her – he so rarely interacted with Mia sexually outside the bedroom, he was soaking up the experience like a thirsty sponge. His hands cupped and squeezed Mia’s breasts through her bra, his lips kissing her neck hungrily.

Meanwhile, the dancer reached back to undo the clasp on her bra. Brendan was astonished to feel Mia’s hands likewise reaching back, in pantomime. With a little ‘snik’ her bra came loose, letting her full breasts sway free under her apron. To Mia’s delight, it gave her the sensation of being naked in the room full of men.

Brendan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was this Mia? What had gotten into her? His eyes followed her gaze, up to the dancer. He realized Mia was experiencing the dance vicariously. And so when the dancer started to slowly unbutton her pants, Brendan made the next move in the game. He slid his hands down to undo Mia’s belt.

Mia would have stopped him if she had been aware of it, but her attention was far-off, her eyes glazed. She saw herself in front of the men, dancing confidently, openly flaunting her sexuality, being the center of attention, the center of lust. She was breathing quickly, every inhalation brushing her bare nipples against the apron, teasing them.

As Brendan carefully slipped her belt apart, Mia, unknowing, whispered out loud.

“I wish I could dance like that.” She said dreamily.

And then she felt her pants loosen as Brendan’s fingers started on her zipper. Ice-cold realization grabbed her and Mia looked fearfully around the room. Nobody had looked over – yet. Her prim nature kicked in, and Mia’s hands shot down, stopping Brendan from going any further.

“Hey,” Brendan whispered playfully. “I thought you wanted to dance like that?”

Hearing those words, Mia’s brain rebelled. But her body did not - the idea flashed through her like electricity. As she watched, a guy reached for the dancer’s chest, and the woman covered her breasts in faux-modesty. Mia wrapped her own arm across her naked bosom, pantomiming the dancer’s actions. Her bare arm cradled her heavy breasts under the apron, her nipples stiff with excitement.

Her arousal increasing, her willpower melting - Mia let go of Brendan’s hands at her waist.

“Of course I want to dance like...” Mia’s voice trailed off. Brendan’s fingers finished her sentence for her, unzipping her pants. Suddenly her slacks were sliding down over her hips. As the cool air hit her bare skin, Mia realized how exposed she was. Though she was standing behind the cloth-draped table, if someone were to look back it would be hard to hide her naked thighs. But the fear of being seen, mixed with lust, formed a potent cocktail of arousal in her blood. She squirmed against Brendan in nervous pleasure.

Both he and Mia’s eyes were on the dancer now. As she danced erotically in front of the men, her thumbs hooked under the elastic of her thong. Brendan likewise took hold of Mia’s underwear. As the dancer inched her thong down, a quiet moan of collective lust escaped the men in front of her, and for a moment Mia pretended the sound was for her. She felt her own underwear slide down her thighs, completing the fantasy. A cool draft slid across her bare wetness, giving her goose-bumps all over. The sensation of being naked, exposed in front of a group of strangers, was complete.

A few of the men were now quietly rubbing bulges in their pants. The dancer straddled one and began giving him a lap dance. Mia was riveted by the sheer open sexuality of the moment. Unbidden – indeed, uncontrollable now - her body mimicked the dancer’s. Mia pressed her bare ass into Brendan.

Brendan was rock hard in his pants behind her. Mia quickly picked up the movement of the dancer, and began massaging her fiancée’s pelvis with her ass. She soon found his length, straining against his pants, and started teasing and rubbing him with her naked flesh. Then her hands went behind her, grabbing hold of Brendan’s firm body, and she pulled him against her, grinding her sex into his. Her actions astonished them both, but Mia’s mind was distracted with the scene in front of her; her body was on autopilot.

Soon both lap-dances were climaxing, and Mia felt Brendan throb behind her. She rode her ass against him furiously, stroking his covered length with her rump, grinding into his heat. And suddenly she realized she was about to come herself. Never one to moan or cry out, Mia just gasped quietly as the orgasm ignited between her legs. The pleasure rippled through her like a fiery wave.

And for a moment, Mia was hovering above, looking down on herself. Who was this wanton woman, bent over a table in the dark, breasts spilling out beneath her apron? And where had she come from? Had she really been hiding inside this careful, proper girl - now half naked, bared thighs and naked ass riding against a man for all she was worth?

Back on the ground, Brendan recognized the quiet signs of Mia’s orgasm, and it set him off on his own climax. His cock unleashed in his pants, throbbing with ecstasy. His hands clutched Mia’s bare hips as they writhed in front of him, slowing to a halt.

The party cheered. As the dancer got up from the lap-dance, Mia realized an intermission was at hand, and the men were shifting in their seats. Breathless, Mia and Brendan stood up quickly, adjusting their clothing. Sure enough, a few moments later guys were coming back into the shadows for refreshment. Brendan proceeded to pour drinks.

“Some show, huh?” One of the guys said. Brendan smiled.

“Sure is. I hope there's more to come.” He turned to wink at Mia, but she was gone.

~o~

The dancer, now dressed in a silk robe, had stepped over to the cooler to get a drink. Mia walked up to her, twisting the edge of her apron in her fingers nervously.

“Uh, excuse me,” Mia said. The dancer looked up.

“Oh, these are for us, right?” The dancer asked, holding up the can of soda. Mia nodded.

“Of course. Um...” Mia looked at the ground. “I was just wondering, how long have you been dancing? You’re really good.” Mia said. The woman in front of her beamed.

“Gosh, thanks. I’ve actually only been doing it a week.” She said. Mia blinked. A week, and she felt comfortable moving her body like that in front of strangers?

Then the girl asked in a whisper, “Am I really doing okay?”

“Well...yeah, you were...good. Fine. For just a week I mean.” Mia said, trying to swallow her envy. She had trouble digesting it. Then her mind grabbed hold of something – the dancer was a woman, and Mia was really just a girl. Confidence comes from experience, right?

“If you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?” Mia asked.

“Oh, I’m 22.” She said perkily, taking a sip of her soda. “How old are you?”

“Well...” Mia said, clenching her teeth. “Older than that.”

Mia turned abruptly and went to help Brendan serve the food.

~o~

The little pickup truck’s engine whined. Brendan was behind the wheel. Mia studied the map to their final catering gig of the night. Neither of them had said a word since packing up the last location.

Mia had trouble reading the map. She couldn’t stop thinking about her out-of-character actions at the bachelor party. She had some ideas about what had happened, and she wanted to talk to Brendan about it, but she didn’t want to scare him with her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Brendan’s mind was preoccupied with the very same stuff, but he didn’t want to scare away the side of Mia that had shown itself so briefly in the Event Room.

“That was quite a party.” He said neutrally.

“Yeah. One of a kind.” Mia said. Brendan looked over at her.

“Was it?” He asked. Mia knew exactly what he meant. She treaded carefully.

“Maybe...maybe not.” She said, watching her fiancée’s reaction. “Would you like it to happen again?”

“I’d like...to see that part of you, again.” He said. “Any idea where it came from?”

Mia bit her lip. She had a pretty good idea. She just wasn’t how Brendan would take it.

“I think,” She began, “That it had something to do with...” she faltered. “The other men.”

Brendan wasn’t quite expecting that. “Oh.” Was all he managed. Mia felt his reaction and hurried to fill in the gaps.

“It’s not like it sounds. I just...got excited by the idea of being the dancer, being in front of them. Having the confidence, being comfortable with my body enough to do that, for strangers...” Mia trailed off. “It’s silly. But pretending, for five minutes...I really felt like a woman. Not just a girl.”

“But you are a woman.” Brendan said. “And that dancer was probably-“

“I know how old she was.” Mia clipped him off. After a pregnant pause, she spoke again.

“I just wish I were woman enough to do something like that.”

Her words hung in the air. Brendan thought about them, long and hard.

And he came up with a little idea.

~o~

The red sign outside the hotel glowed brightly, bathing the parking lot in a crimson light. In a corner of the lot, a pickup truck was parked. In it, two people sat in silence.

Mia clicked her fingernails on the dash slowly, tapping out a rhythm. Brendan’s idea hung in the air between them like a ghost. Mia chewed her lower lip, mulling it over.

“Everything’s red.” Brendan said, looking at the crimson glow around them. “It makes me think of sex.” Mia looked up, her eyes focusing on the red hotel sign.

“It makes me think of danger.” Mia said.

Brendan looked at her. She looked at him.

“So...what do you think of the idea?” Brendan asked.

“It’s...interesting.” Mia said. That was an understatement – her insides were tumbling like a lava-lamp just thinking about it, alternating from excitement to fear and back again.

“Interesting good, or interesting bad?” Brendan asked.

“It’s interesting good. But,” Mia paused, gathering her courage, “Scary, too. And not just in the way you think. I mean, yes, I’d be scared to do it, but I’d also be scared...for us.” Brendan waited for her to elaborate.

“Tonight, at the party, it was like I was someone else. It was Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde - something came out of me, took me over.”

“I know.” Brendan said, remembering it with excitment. But Mia wasn’t smiling. Adjusting to her vibe, he got more serious. “And afterwards, you put it back.” he added. Mia shook her head.