She sipped the last of her drink and stared across the courtyard at the other partiers. The music, barely more than a heavy bass thumping through her thighs, was not quite in rhythm with the dancers. She blinked trying to get them on beat and then shook her head confused.
"Are you okay?" It was John's voice and she couldn't quite figure out where she was. The music was much fainter. She was lying down on something soft...vinyl covered...a lounge cover? His face kept going out of focus. She moaned what she hoped was "No," and lost his face again.
"Dude."
She couldn't make out who was talking. John? Greg? She felt the vinyl cushion with her fingertips, moving her hands up to her head, moaning.
"Emmy! What's up? What's going on?"
She slowly opened her eyes, hoping the spinning would stop and focused on John's face, leaning over her. She looked down to see his cock, half-erect just next to her cheek, when the vertigo hit. She closed her eyes, slowly moving her head back.
"Fuck," she moaned, fighting nausea. "Too much fucking Tequila..." At least, that's what she had hoped they heard (he? heard. She wasn't certain if anyone was with the two of them).
"S'okay." John this time. "Just hang out for a few minutes. Greg's right here and he'll stay with you to make sure you're okay."
She moaned again, wishing John wouldn't leave her, wanting to just go. But she knew she couldn't move without fainting or getting sick, so she just lay there, staring at a wooden ceiling, the smell of cedar suddenly hitting her senses.
"Where?" It was all she could muster.
"The sauna. Nobody will come in tonight, it says closed, and it's out of order. You really got slammed, eh?"
His voice was coming from over her head, outside of her field of vision. She moaned nodding her head and remembered, too late, that moving anything was probably stupid.
"We had to take your suit off, getting you hear. Sorry."
Emmy panicked and jerked to look down at her body, nausea quickly following. She felt her stomach clench and willed herself not to throw up.
Stupid stupid stupid!
Naked, alone with a stranger, in a closet nobody knew about. She moaned and felt tears overflowing onto her cheeks, leaking into her ears.
"Shhh...it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. John went to get Julie. She'll find something for you to wear."
His words and tone were calming; his fingers slowly brushed through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp.
She wanted to protest, but it felt perfect, the sensations traveling down her spine, across her shoulders. She relaxed, in spite of her embarrassment, focusing on her breathing.
"I think you would have won that contest, by the way." His fingers massaged her temples and she let her jaw drop open. "Shhh...don't try and answer. Just relax. The contest. Between Anna and Diane. If I were judging, you'd have won. Your body is perfect."
She felt her pulse quicken, realizing she was defenseless, but his words and tone, not to mention his fingers, continued to work their magic.
"When you collapsed next to me, I apologize, but my hand brushed against your breast and your top just slipped off."
She didn't remember a thing, but felt his fingers brushing against her breast, lightly stroking her nipple.
No! Fuck! No!
But the other voice was silent, waiting. She felt her stomach loosen, the cramping shifting to something else, something familiar, something...good. That part of her didn't dare move, but the other, it was screaming to do something. She lay there, her breathing deepening.
"And then when you got a little sick, we had to take your bottoms off." He moved his fingers gently. "John's washing them right now."
She didn't taste or smell anything, so she wasn't convinced. She felt his thigh, and probably his dick, lightly bump against her head as his other hand drifted down to stroke her other breast. She moaned, part protest, part desire and was mortified to realize she had lifted her chest up to meet his fingers. She could smell her musk and moaned again.
Why do I get aroused like this? FUCK!!
"Shhh...it's okay. Julie taught me this. It feels nice, right?" His words, his voice, so calming. She settled back down. "I'm going to lightly stroke your stomach. Keep breathing. It will help. Promise."
As his fingers traveled down to her navel, she focused on her breath, knowing he was staring at her nakedness, her thin tufts of pubic hair, her lips...
oh god! Were they swelling? Can he smell me?
And the fox. She moaned as his fingers reached her triangle and danced across from one hip to the next. Her stomach did a small flip-flop, nausea releasing to something else. He placed the flat of his hand on her skin, the heel lightly pushing into her intestines. She felt, and heard, the gurgles as he calmly massaged her.
"I think it's better now, right?" He didn't move his hands, but lightened the pressure.
She slowly opened her eyes to see his face looking down at her, and shifted her chin to look down at her body. His fingers were fractions of an inch from stroking her clit, just hovering above it; the heels of his hands still resting just below her navel.
She licked her lips and nodded, slowly. Miraculously, she didn't feel sick. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely.
He paused and stared at her, absorbed. His hands barely moved. "John mentioned..."
She looked up at his face, not daring move.
Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck?
"He mentioned someone he'd been dating. He never said a name..." Greg paused, starting at her. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask." Another pause. "He said that...she only got off if she begged for it..." He paused again and stared at her, his dark brown eyes, barely visible in the dimly lit sauna.
She shivered, wanting to brush his hands away, wanting to stand up and stalk out of there, but her brain was still foggy. "Nooo." It sounded like a sigh to her when what she had really wanted was for it to end in six exclamation marks.
"He said she needed to...humiliate herself...his words, I swear. Was he talking about you?" He stopped, his fingers just barely moving above her slit. "It was, wasn't it?"
She barely shook her head, panicking, her heart thumping. The voices in her head went silent, even as she felt the arousal building beneath his fingers. She struggled not to lift her pelvis and push into him. She could feel her face burn as moisture began to leak from between her legs.
"Noooo!" She moaned but stayed completely still.
He stared, not moving except to breathe, as if weighing his options. "Tell me," he urged her quietly, but without question. "Tell me what you want me to do." He inhaled, and she knew he could smell her.
NoNoNO!
"Fuckkkkk," she breathed out, pushing her hips up against his hand.
"Tell me," he said gently, resting his arms on her stomach, his elbows against the bottoms of her breasts. Bending over her, his face was in shadow, his head a silhouette against the warm wood behind him.
"But, John...Julie..." She looked to the side, testing how awful it would be to move.
"How sweet," he said, his tone shifting from calming to...something else. Sarcasm? She couldn't put a word to it. "Lying out here, naked, your legs spread open for me, and you're worrying about my fiancé?" He paused again, his fingers just barely above her swelling lips. "What were you thinking when you dragged me in here?"
