by Nicola Jane
'Won't you join me for a drink, since I am otherwise going to have to spend the evening alone?'
'You're not exactly dressed for unexpected guests. Maybe some other time.'
'Ah, the wardrobe department's fault again.'
You don't want to restart that topic so you just say goodbye and turn to walk back down the corridor…941…the rock star is giving an impromptu rendition of his latest hit…940…the actress has opted to practise her lines instead of the massage…939…the ambassador is interrupted by a pressing call. You don't turn around until you're at the lift. There's no sign of him. The thong chafes mildly but not unpleasantly, and the mirrored doors of the lift show pink cheeks and glittering eyes. You suddenly feel like a drink.
You’re on a sizzling high and you’re nowhere near ready to call it a night. You decide to head back to the bar...
Or...
Maybe you there’s a bit more fun to be had at Room 942, so you retrace your steps...
The Private Party
Curiosity and desire get the better of you and you walk around the edge of the room until you get to the place where the man disappeared. The girls that open the curtains stare glassily ahead. When the curtains close behind you, it takes a few seconds of fumbling to locate the door to the next room.
Taking a deep breath, you push on the door and it opens onto a scene from a Pagan rite. It's not so much a room as a giant bed, a huge circular space lit gently by low hanging chandeliers. The room is warmer than the casino hall, not just from the candles but from the frenetic activity in the centre. A mass of bodies writhe together and it's difficult to make out any one whole individual in the tangle of naked male torsos, bared breasts and legs and arms. The marble walls and floor amplify moans and cries, flesh smacks flesh, and language is replaced by guttural, primitive syllables.
There are more girls than men but you can only tell that from the number of black wigs that gleam in the dim light. Towards the edge of the bed are more distinct couplings. There are girls on all fours being taken from behind, still wearing their uniforms, as are most of the girls. One girl is kneeling in front of two men, alternately sucking one off and playing with the other's cock. Another very flexible girl is standing on the floor, a foot lower than the edge of the bed and touching her toes while the man behind her rams her from behind. Nearest to where you're standing a girl is spread-eagled with a man's head working away between her legs while another masturbates over her breasts.
You can't see the man you followed in here. You hesitate. Ridiculous as it is for you to be shy after all that's happened tonight you're as unsure of yourself as you would be arriving at a normal party where you don't know anyone. Should you find someone to talk to who can introduce you? But there doesn’t look to be anyone engaging in small talk or the physical equivalent of it.
Nothing in life has ever given you any guidance as to how to join in an orgy. You peer from under your heavy dark fringe. It frames the feeling that you're not really you here, you're not anyone. You are the group and there are no social norms to follow, yet still you hold back.
Suddenly there is a presence at your side and a man's hand trails down your arm and passes around your waist.
'Ready?' It's your patron from the roulette table, naked to the waist. He might be a total stranger but you're relieved at even this much of a familiar face.
'I'm not sure.' You hold your breath, too late to hold your honesty. That wasn't the right reply if you're supposed to be here as a professional.
'Need a guide?'
You nod, dumbly grateful. He moves behind you, pushes up the shorter than short skirt and squeezes your hips. Electricity shoots through you at his proprietary grip and you relax now that someone is in charge. He leans in, kissing your neck and up to your ear whispering as he goes. He pivots your body so you're facing to the left of the group.
'Stage left. A little girl on girl teasing. All for show, of course, or is it? See how her cheeks are flushed and patches of red highlight her pert little breasts? Look how insistently she's pushing the other girl's head down? Wouldn't you like to join in? Reach around, sink your fingers into her tight, wet cunt?'
You stare, imagining yourself over there. Your insides twitch in response and you shudder as his hands move down and find you as wet as his description. He turns you to face centre.
'Or a bit of anal play centre stage. How wide her legs are spread and how big the cock she's about to take in the ass. Do you think she can? See, how he searches and probes the entrance looking for the moment to possess her. She's arching her back – to help or deflect him do you think? What would you do in her place?'
His thumb pushes at your ass and you involuntarily press down on it, remembering how he explored you at the roulette table.
'She's saying something to him,' he continues. 'Begging him to stop or carry on?'
'She's telling him to fuck her,' you say. 'She wants it all.'
His thumb possesses your behind again while his other hand cups your trembling heat and makes circles within the wetness. It's all your legs can do to remain standing. He nudges you so you're looking to the right.
'Or do you recognise another woman in your state? See how she touches herself? Her shiny, wet open pussy begging to be filled. Does she want to be fucked?'
His fingers stab into you roughly, mimicking the girl in front of you as she pleases herself. As you watch a guy comes across her breasts and she moans and rubs the thick white fluid into her.
'She's dying for you to fuck her,' you say.
'Then let me show you how to make your entrance into the party,' he says. 'Want to come?'
You smile at the double entendre and take the hand he now offers you, your fingers sliding over his with the juices from your own excitement. He undoes his zipper and shoves your hand over his erection. As you reach the girl you stare at the pink folds of skin as she stretches herself open and slowly pushes her fingers in and out of herself. Her eyes dilate suddenly as she sees your guy coming towards her. He crouches down and you fold yourself around him, pressing yourself against his back and guiding his cock into her. Your fingers caress his balls as he pumps up and down and you feel his orgasm before she does. You look up and catch her frown of frustration. That was over quicker than she was expecting.
You feel some of her frustration yourself as you lay on top of them like an unfrosted layer on a cake, aching for someone to smother you. Your ass is in the air, your pussy as inviting as hers was a few moments ago. The man underneath you is spent and there's nothing for it but to move on if you're to get any of the action for yourself. But as a guide he did his job and you are very much in the orgy now. You disengage your hands from his collapsed weight and crawl further into the pile of bodies.
There are fewer people than you first thought – about fifteen or so. You squeeze into a gap between bodies and lay along the length of a man's back, spooning him to mirror his position around the girl in front. His back is hard against your breasts and stomach and you sink your fingernails into his buttocks as he thrusts. He turns his face in the direction of this new person and twists his upper body towards you. You prop yourself up and offer one breast to his seeking mouth and gasp as his teeth clamp onto your nipple and he rolls it between his teeth. Your left leg hooks over his and you open up, knowing your pussy pulses an invitation.
Hands from behind grope for your breasts and free them from his mouth, pinching and stroking and you don't register if it's a man or woman. You turn over and another pair of hands roughly pushes between your legs, followed by a man's head. His tongue laps against the lips and hair of your pussy, hard long strokes with no specific destination. Someone's hands, maybe his, push you up so you're straddling his face and you grind yourself into him. His fingers jab into you and stretch the lips apart. You rub yourself back and forwards across his nose and the hardness of his chin, directing the pressure. Heat corkscrews down your inner thighs and coils tight within your belly.
His legs splay ou
t underneath you and his cock lies limply on his stomach. You bend over and hold the marshmallow softness in your mouth, sucking hard until it hardens and fills your mouth like space dust. He pauses for breath and his fingers abruptly pull out. Just as you are about to stop what you're doing, someone's, perhaps his, cock slams into you without warning. Hands grab your hips and pull you back and forth with such frenzy your breasts shake out of the top of the bra.
You're unravelling at the point where he pounds against you but before your orgasm can unwind he gives one last thrust and he's out of the game. He pulls out and you throb emptily. Unwilling to go back to the ineffectual licking and jabbing of the man underneath, you climb off and roll to one side. Next to you a girl is kneeling and licking an upright cock. You add your hands at the base, pumping up and down. Her fingers link over yours but then she sits back and you take over. You immediately sit astride him and lower yourself over his cock, oblivious to the man it belongs to. He lies back with his eyes on you and you hover above him and squeeze the base. This time it's not going to be over before you want it to be. You slide down slowly, relishing being full, and arch your back so he's as deep as he can go. You grip his shoulders as leverage to rock backwards and forwards. Someone's hands take the weight of your breasts and you crave more hands everywhere, swarming over every last inch of flesh.
Visually everywhere you look is an added turn on. Girls touch themselves and each other, their arms and legs entwined with men's limbs. Mouths suck and lick and bite. Engorged cocks slide in and out of lips and hands. Girls straddle men or crouch on all fours or lay, thighs wide open. The air is thick with musky sweat and hot, moist excitement.
Fingers search your behind, finding that secret place for the second time tonight. Nerve endings explode as the delicate skin is stretched apart and a moist finger nudges there. You slow your movements and relax muscles that were moments ago tensing to orgasm. The fingers eases into you, centimetre by delicious taut centimetre and the pleasure pain intensifies. You push back until your ass meets the flat of his hand and you can rub against the pressure along both sides of the walls of your pussy.
Contractions build outwards from the twin cores, electrifying your skin all the way up to your scalp, and your pussy and ass clench. You shake uncontrollably as the orgasm ricochets through your body. It takes a moment to realise the man underneath you must have come too as he's gone soft inside you. At your back, your unseen partner comes across your buttocks. He catches you as you start to fall forward, no longer able to hold your weight on your trembling arms, and you sink back against his chest gratefully while he spasms against you in the final throes of his own climax.
You lay back and watch for a while. It's too soon to end the wildest night of your life.
The end
Or...
Have you had enough or are you ready for more? There’s plenty of fun still to be had so you retrace your steps...
The Proposition
'What would I have to do? I mean if I was thinking about accepting.'
'If you think about accepting,' she mocks you again. You don't like her that much, but then, who says you need to like her? Her appeal lies entirely in some other quality than likeability. 'If you accept my kind invitation, you presence will be required in Room 942 at precisely five minutes past now. The undress code is strict and the clientele distinguished.'
'But what do –'
'OK, first thing you need to do is lighten the hell up!' She smiles in a friendly way for the first time. 'This is going to be fun, OK?'
'OK.' You realise that one word marks a tacit agreement to the whole deal.
'Alright!' she whoops and takes your arm. 'Let's go. Just follow me and play it by ear. You can trust me, I'm a professional.'
'I don't even know your name!' you protest, letting her drag you out of the bar and towards the elevators.
'You can call me Giselle if you need to. That's who I am tonight anyway.' She doesn't ask your name and you get the message. Names are for the real world and you left that the moment you started talking to her.
The elevator arrives empty. The doors close and you fall into elevator etiquette and take up the corner furthest away from her, eyes fixed on the floor display panel. Giselle has no such rules to follow. She flips up her skirt, tugs down some sexy looking, expensive black panties and steps into the tiny pink thong. Your eyes flick to the floor panel again and you slide even further into your corner. The next thing she does catches you even more unawares.
She pushes you up against the walls of the lift and there's a soft thud as your back connects with the metal. She kisses you, her strawberry glossed mouth soft against yours. She gently sucks on your bottom lip and runs her tongue over it while her other hand traces a path at the back of your thigh under the edge of your skirt. Her tongue works its way between your lips and her fingernails graze the sensitive skin at the top of your thigh.
Or...
You’re surprised, but very pleasantly so! You respond to her advances...
Turns out it’s not quite doing it for you...
Maybe this isn’t really your scene? You decide to retrace your steps...
Getting Down to Business
You take the seat next to the businessman and look at him sideways as he stares into his whisky. He has the lined face of a thousand commuters with thinning hair and an office jaundiced complexion.
You order a drink and wait until the barman has brought it before turning to the guy and asking, 'Tough day?'
'What?' He looks up, startled. 'Oh, yeah, isn't it always?'
You know exactly what you're about to do but you wouldn't have thought it possible a few hours ago. But then, you wouldn't have predicted most of your night so far.
'You need something to help you relax.' You slowly and deliberately push up the side of your skirt that's away from the rest of the bar. Now you've got his full attention you uncross your left knee, place it wide so he gets a good flash and then recross your legs, eyes direct on his the whole time.
He gulps loudly and looks around but no one has seen anything. Feeling like Sharon Stone, you uncross and cross your legs the other way, smooth skin sliding on skin. This time he doesn't look away. A shimmer of sweat dampens his forehead.
You've never propositioned a stranger in a bar before but tonight you're going to. You wonder if he thinks you're a prostitute. Last time it was a mistake but now you could do it for real if you wanted to. Who knew simply not wearing panties would make you feel so adventurous? But you might scare him off and, if you wanted money for sex, you could have stayed with the other guy.
Or...
There’s no way you’re going to throw cold water on this fantasy; you decide to let the guy think that he’s paying for it...
Who cares about getting paid? This is fun enough as it is! You make your position very clear...
Maybe this isn’t exactly doing it for you right now, so you retrace your steps...
A Misunderstanding
You replace the thong in the envelope. It's part of someone else's lifestyle not yours. Besides, if you really wanted to wear such ridiculous, and no doubt uncomfortable, panties you'd buy them yourself.
You stride down the corridor, counting off the grey doors as you go. The inconsistent lighting means you strain to see the numbers…939…probably a businessman poring over graphs and stats…940…a sales rep preparing tomorrow's pitch…941…another corporate suit, channel hopping in front of the TV.
You're holding the envelope out before you even reach 942, keen to hand it over as soon as possible so the inevitable misunderstanding as to why you're here is cleared up without too much embarrassment. Your stomach clenches with nerves despite the fact you're only doing a good deed. You could open the door with the key but, like the thong, it's part of someone else's evening. Someone who would be paid to be here. You try to hold your face in an expression like anyone doing their citizenly duty and tap lightly on the door. He's probably laying on the bed waiting to – w
ell, waiting for whatever it is he ordered for tonight's entertainment.
No one answers so you have to knock louder. The sound echoes flatly in the corridor. You wait again, wondering what you'll do with the money if he's actually not there. You have tried to be honest so maybe it'd be OK to keep the money. Just as you're about to give up, the door swings open. You take a half step back but you can't help yourself staring at the semi naked man in front of you. He's holding a towel loosely round his hips and water drips down his lean body. His dark hair is also wet and hangs into eyes which are looking questioningly at the envelope in your outstretched hand.
You look down at it too. The sensible explanation you'd planned freezes somewhere between brain and mouth.
'You didn't see the key?' he frowned. The sharp citrus-y smell of his interrupted shower escapes from the room and marks a border between room 942 and the silent corridor.
'Yes…er…no.' If you admit that, it would mean admitting to seeing the thong. Your face heats up and you know you're going red. At least your gauche behaviour so far will mean he can't possibly mistake you for a call girl any longer.
'Too bad. You could have joined me in the shower.' He opens the towel and you catch your breath thinking he's going to drop it and demand sexual favours in the doorway. But he just hitches it up and tucks the corner in so it hangs by itself. He holds the door back, inviting you in but you're stuck to the floor in the corridor holding the envelope.
'You're not a–'
You find your voice finally, 'I just came to–'
–'vampire are you? Needing to be formally invited in?'
–'return this money. There's been a mistake.'
You both speak at the same time. 'What?'
'I'm not an es–es–esc– the person you meant this for,' you finish.
