Generationze Part 8 : The Gruntling of Minette Spighe
Social Gatherings
Minette Spighe was feeling disgruntled.
This wasn't an unusual condition for her. In fact, she felt that she had been disgruntled ever since she realised the connotations of her name.
So, for twenty years, or so, she had been pissed-off at her parents for the name, given as part of a Christmas joke. Just because she had been
born
shortly before Christmas.
She'd wanted to choose her own name abbreviation; else she'd get her bloody whole name changed by Deed-Poll. Anything to avoid the abbreviation 'Min'.
She was happy enough with 'Minette'. After all, it was the name of the author Minette Walters.
She was in two minds about 'Minnie', however. This was because -- on the one hand there was Minnie Driver -- the actress; and Minnie Riperton -- the singer, which was good. But on the
other
hand -- there was
always
the bloody mouse!
So -- she had gone with 'Nette'.
Then,
can you believe it? The
Internet
takes off. And guess what?
Nobody
actually calls it that! It's always abbreviated to 'the Net'. And then people start taking liberties with 'the Net' -- plotting things; or abusing others. So, The-Powers-That-Be decide it has to be policed. Or others decide that yet more
others
should be spied upon. So that's what she turned into. She was sort of pleased that they hadn't settled upon 'Annette' for her name -- because she was sure she would have killed them (Mum and Dad, that is!) if they had. She and 'Annette Curtain' would have made a good pair (pun intended). And that's without thinking too deeply... and what about Anita Bush? Let's hope those so named didn't have to suffer much.
But at that moment, there was a very
specific
reason for her disgruntlement.
You see... she had seen...
him
... across the club dance floor. He appeared young, as best she could tell in the variable light quality on the dance floor. At least five or six years younger than she, in her estimation. But as soon as she actually realised the
detail
of what she was seeing, she felt her pussy gulp. Oh, she knew very well that
that
was an impossibility -- but
that
best described the sensation she felt.
As a six-foot 'Amazon' in (compulsory) heels (albeit, not towering), most men were looked down upon.
But as best she could judge -- from the distance between them -- she would have to look...
up
... at him. Also, as someone into keeping her body 'trim', she was sure he didn't have a spare ounce anywhere on his body.
The thought of seeing him skipping -- on the spot, like a boxer in training -- in the nude -- and seeing all that solid, fatless flesh
not
wobbling, caused her to catch her breath.
But, of course, there was definitely no mental image comparison between...
him
... and a certain mythical figure as portrayed by a certain Austrian body-builder never crossed her mind. She was certain!
No... never... not once (or more) per glance. At
all!
However, when the thought of one particular -- no,
two[!] -- (three?)
particular...
parts
of him...
actually
... wobbling (bouncing even!), caused yet another gulp of her pussy.
She felt weak and breathless at all those intrusive images.
But the
actual
reason for her disgruntlement? Well -- that was his girlfriend (she supposed). Why else would they be holding hands?
She was tiny -- even in her platform heels. The top of her head barely passed the middle of his chest!
How come this...... this[?]... managed to get
him
, where
she
always seemed to... miss out?
She rested her elbows on her knees, and her eyes into her hands, as she contemplated this cosmically sadistic inequality. Jealousy -- that she wasn't
her
size -- wasn't a
small
component of her ruminations (Yes, another pun -- or something!).
She watched him, and noted that they were part of group -- family probably, as all the men were built on the same pattern -- tall, powerful! But 'spare'?
She managed to find a seat closer to them, where she could also overhear much of their conversations as she sipped whatever-the-hell drink Jane had bought this time, but she managed to sit in a way that it was not obvious to them. Well -- to most of them, anyway. But it seemed that the... the...... girlfriend[?]
did
notice, but appeared un-fazed by it.
It took her a while, but she realised that nearly all the men, even The Adonis, called an older woman 'Mum'.
Then she noticed that the... the... girlfriend[??] called one of the older men 'Dad'; even though
he
had called the
older
older woman
...
'Mum'.
Minette was perplexed.
New Year's Eve gatherings in these Social Clubs were prime places for relationship watching.
Frustrating and mysterious at times, but fascinating!
When the... the... girlfriend[?] sat on The Adonis' lap (looking nothing so much as a cutie‑doll --
the bitch
), she expected that
she
would act all possessive -- by glaring at Minette, and thus staking
her
claim, and trying to dissuade Minette's competition.
But
she
didn't!
The Adonis absent-mindedly stroked... * * * * *#@>&<[!]...
her
... while taking part in the discussions with his family[?].
HER!
Minette eventually realised that she had absented herself from her girl-friends for far too long. So, she went back to re-join their group. In her absence, it looked like she had missed out on a couple of rounds or so of spirits and shots. She was feeling enough 'out-of-sorts' from her observations of
him
and his family that she couldn't be bothered to try to catch up.
So, during the rest of the evening, she was always that little bit distanced from her friends. And that included her location. Once the dancing started in earnest, she sort-of lost contact with both her friends and most members of his family.
But she managed to locate The Adonis in the dancers; and the... the......
her
... wasn't with him.
"You only have to ask him." said a voice, from below her right ear.
Minette jumped and turned to glare at the speaker. But then sort of wilted, because it was...
her.
"He won't eat you."
Then
she
continued, "But he has said he would actually like to
do
that -- if you know what I mean. You know?...
Eat
you -- and a whole lot more than that, with you, if you
are
interested -- in that sort of thing?
"His name's Tommy. Go on! Ask him! As long as you don't mind him being not much of a dancer. Well, he's not with me, anyway. Maybe he'll be better with you, you being so much closer to his height. Anyway, I'm sure he'd enjoy the fact that he could squeeze your bum without having to bend or crouch down as you danced."
"Umm?"
"Come on! There's no need for you to be shy, or fanny around. You look Hot; and he quite fancies you. He's quite turned on by older women. He fancies my Mum rotten, at least."
"Umm? He's..." gulp "seen me?" she finished in a weak whisper.
"Oh, come on! A Hot, tall, good-looking woman; in heels; no underwear, and flashing the flesh the way you are; in
this
club! What's
not
to notice!"
"Oh shit!" Minette muttered and dropped her head back into her hands.
The... the...
talker
-- placed
her
right hand on Minette's naked thigh, just higher than the hemline of her mini-dress, while
her
left hand lightly stroked Minette's naked back.
Then the... the...
speaker
... stretched up, and kissed Minette -- just below her right ear, and then whispered
into
her ear:
"Come on lover, you smell and taste gorgeous! What's your name? I'll introduce you."
The...
she
-- actually
snuggled --
seductively -- closer still.
Her
right hand slid further under the dress, fingers running lightly up Minette's inner thigh, until they encountered the... 'oil slick'; then the left hand slipped into the side of the dress at the back, and round to stroke the bottom of Minette's left breast.
Minette shivered, and shook her head -- just in general denial.
The right hand completed its approach, and brushed against her pussy lips. She jerked upright and gasped at the contact; and again shivered lightly; but shook her head again, but this time to try to dispel the lust that had spiked at the contact.
The cupped left hand stroked up Minette's left breast, and captured and lightly squeezed and rolled the nipple between thumb and fingers. Minette whimpered shakily. Then groaned as the second finger on the right hand insinuated itself between her silky, slick, inner lips; and slowly, and sensuously, teased upwards, and downwards, in the area below her clit, but above her vagina entrance; always slowing as it neared the top, then stalling and then descending, leaving Minette 'hanging' -- longing for -- and dreading[!] -- the final contact.
She gulped mouthfuls of air; sobbed; as her body -- against her will, but craving completion... attempted to stab her pussy against the stalled 'Weapon of Max Disruption' in an effort to end the taunting.
