Jelena went reluctantly to the cookout. She had been invited by her boss, Mr. Elman, who she knew was a bit of a pig. She knew that she shouldn't have come. But it was a Saturday and the guy she had slept with last weekend had stood her up last night. So she came anyway, because she wanted to be around people, and now she had gotten herself into a little bit of a situation with multiple men, most of whom she didn't know. One of Mr. Elman's friends had spilled red wine on her dress and she had submitted to Mr. Elman's insistence that she change into one of his daughter's old dresses—which turned out to be much too small and thin and revealing—and stay a little longer, rather than doing what she knew she should have done and gone home right then and there. Mr. Elman had, of course, promised to have her dress dry-cleaned. The dress, it should be pointed out, while loose-fitting, was also much too low cut in the bust, and much too short.
She should have gone home. She went over the reasons in her head.
1. The men there were hitting on her relentlessly. It made her feel good, especially after being stood up the night before. But she knew what this was. They just wanted to fuck her. Men had been making lewd comments and taking every opportunity to brush up against her and pat her on her butt, which they never failed to compliment. One guy had even grabbed her thong through her dress and given her a wedgie, which both hurt and embarrassed her, especially because everyone saw him do it and they all laughed at her.
2. She was getting a little drunk and possibly less able to make rational decisions. They weren't helping things by keeping her glass of wine constantly full. Besides, she wasn't very good at saying "no" in the first place.
3. She hadn't worn a bra with her other dress, which was outfitted with a supportive top. This dress, again being a low-cut, thin, cotton number, left little to the imagination.
But she didn't want to make a scene, so here she found herself, sitting in her boss's backyard in one of those low-to-the-ground fold out lawn chairs in a dress that was not only too small for her, but that was so skimpy she could hardly keep herself covered in it, whether standing up or sitting down.
There were only about a dozen people there, mostly older men, a few she had seen in the office visiting Mr. Elman. They always ogled her suggestively in the office and gave her the creeps. There was only one man there who appeared to be her age or younger. He had been introduced to her as Mr. Elman's nephew, Mark. He had tried to start a conversation with her earlier. Even though he was a little awkward, he seemed nice. She did not see him now. As she looked around, she tried to keep her knees pressed together, because a few men sat directly across from her, staring at her legs, just waiting for her to move and give them a glimpse of her panties. "What a couple of disgusting pigs," she thought to herself. The hem of her loaner dress was just long enough to cover her ass, and so tight that if she moved at all it just rode up higher. And she couldn't sit still. She tried not to move, but the lawn chair was only inches off the ground, and wasn't very comfortable to sit in. If she straightened her legs the men could see her panties above and between her legs. If she lifted her knees, they could see her panties from underneath, and every time she moved the hem just inched up higher and higher, leaving her more exposed. To make matters worse, these men were not trying to hide the fact that they were looking; they smiled and looked right at her as they slumped down or sat up with the raising or dropping of her knees. She was waiting for them to move so she could get up, because with all the wine she had been drinking she didn't really have much confidence in her ability to stand up and she didn't want to show them anything.
This was not all. Men were often standing over her looking down the front of her dress. She couldn't believe they would do something like that and make it so obvious. Weren't they embarrassed? She thought of saying something, but she didn't want to seem paranoid or prudish. Standing there now was none other than Mr. Elman. She looked down at herself. The dress was so low cut she could see where the curve rounded under the bottom of her b-cup breasts. Even worse, her breasts were pointy, like spinning tops, and came to points which could clearly be seen in the light cotton dress. She could even make out where her nipples puffed out. Her self-consciousness caused her nipples to swell up and harden, making them even more conspicuous.
She crossed her arms to cover herself and, in retrospect, that was a mistake, because when she did, Mr. Elman leaned down and began to massage her shoulders, saying "You look tense, Jelena, let me help you relax a little bit."
Why didn't she just tell him no, and then get up and leave?
She didn't want to make him upset or make it seem like she felt uncomfortable at all.
"I have to go," she thought. She tried to draw away from him and lean forward. When she did so her legs came open a little and she saw the faces of the men across from her betray lusty and satisfied grins. And she wasn't even able to get up. Mr. Elman's grasp on her was firm. He held her fast to him firmly massaging his fingers into her shoulders and neck.
"Just relax," he said firmly. "You're very tight." The men across from her snickered. She leaned back a little. "That's better, little girl," he said. She thought him calling her "little girl" was kind of creepy.
He was kneading her neck and shoulders. Even though his touching her made her uneasy, she could not deny that it felt good. It was apparent that he had done this before.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"It's nice, thanks" she admitted, hoping he would soon stop and she could thank him for a nice afternoon and go. She saw the young man come out of the house and watch as Mr. Elman massaged her.
"Mark, come over here," Mr. Elman said. Mark obeyed. He now stood next to Mr. Elman as the older man rubbed Jelena's shoulders.
"Ever given a massage before, Mark?" Mr. Elman asked.
"No sir," the young man answered.
"Well then, you take that shoulder and I'll take this one. Just watch what I do."
To have these two men massaging her made Jelena nervous. She knew this was dangerous and it made her feel dirty, but she didn't want to risk hurting Mark's feelings by asking them to stop. He seemed like a nice guy. She hoped they would just do it for a few minutes and then she could go. She trembled in their grasp and broke out in chill bumps of discomfort. Her nipples were just getting harder and harder and protruding under the flimsy little dress. She knew Mark could see them by looking down the front of the light fabric. What was worse, they ached to be touched. Why did her body betray her like this? All she wanted to do was get up and go. But her body liked what they were doing to her.
Her head, neck, and shoulders were loosening up under the influence of the massaging hands. She felt herself getting flush, then hot—so hot she was melting in their hands. She knew they could see her swelling breasts, and felt the other men's eyes running up and down her exposed legs, which she had to be mindful of, lest she relax the least little bit, let her knees part, and give them what they were looking for: a clear shot at her panties, the mere thin fabric separating them from her now moistening pussy.
"That's it, Jelena, just relax," Mr. Elman said. "Why don't you close your eyes."
She didn't want to, but she did. Why was she doing everything he told her to do?
Soon after she closed her eyes, she felt Mr. Elman's hand slip the strap of the dress off her right shoulder. Startled, she reached up to put it back, saying "No. Please. I should go now."
