Thanks to Lubrican and Three Sheets for editing and guiding me.
Special thanks to Old Fart for the kick in the pants that got me writing again.
"Hold still, Maggie" said my best friend Sara, laughing as she captured a stray mahogany lock and pinned it with the rest of my hair piled on top of my head. "Or we won't ever get to the party."
The Halloween costume gala Mama and Daddy have held for the past ten years in the ballroom of the Grand Moon Hotel was underway. You have to be sixteen to attend and this was the first year Sara and I were joining in the fun. We had taken some of the younger neighborhood kids trick-or-treating earlier and ended up getting to the hotel later than expected.
Dreaming about the party and the forbidden pleasures I'd planned for this evening had caused me to goof-up in all my classes at school. Now we were running half an hour late and I was fidgeting while Sara worked with my hair in the powder room.
"There!" She smiled at me in the mirror. "You're so lucky. My mom would have a fit if I wanted to wear that outfit."
The red taffeta dress had me looking like one of the girls who work at Miss Kitty's on Gunsmoke. The ruffles on top barely concealed anything and the ruffles on bottom fell just below my knees, clad in fish-net stockings. As I slipped on the matching red ankle boots I said, "I would be more comfortable being your Dr. Watson. Least I wouldn't have to wear these heels. I'm tall enough as it is."
She was Sherlock Holmes and I'd planned on being Dr. Watson until the package containing the dress arrived at the house the previous morning. There had also been a handwritten note from my godfather, Ben Rogers, daring me to wear the outfit. While I wasn't certain about exposing myself in this manner, I could not resist the issued challenge.
As for Mama, she simply told me I was now woman enough to make my own decision on what I chose to wear. I hoped she would be as understanding about the choice I'd made about my virginity -- among other things.
"I'm having more fun with you dressed like this," Sara replied, giggling. "So will everyone else. And stop worrying about how tall you are. Nobody cares, but you."
I'm five foot ten inches in flats and I inherited a big bone structure from Daddy's side of the family. I was a good basketball player, but felt awkward and unattractive most of the time.
When we joined the party I forgot all about being the tallest Dance Hall girl in town and enjoyed the good natured teasing about my costume. And, to my surprise, the downright lecherous scrutiny from some of the male guests did not make me in the least bit uncomfortable. If anything, it emboldened me and I found myself flirting with Elvis and Houdini.
Elvis was John Phillips, the sixteen year-old nephew of my father's law partner Ben Rogers, who is also my godfather. The other man was the town's self-proclaimed bon vivante, Anderson Tate. I put them both off for dances until after I'd had my first dance with Daddy, whom I had just spotted across the room. Dressed like the tramp from Red Skeleton, he was talking with Alice in Wonderland. When I approached them, I recognized his younger sister Rachel.
"Now ain't you a sight," Rachel said, giggling and hugging me. "You're a knock-out kiddo."
"Lord," Daddy mumbled. He was looking kind of stunned. "You're all grown-up."
Rachel guffawed and patted his shoulder. "Now, now. It's only a costume. She'll be back to normal tomorrow."
"I'm not so sure about that," he replied, shaking his head, as his gray eyes looked me up and down.
Kissing his cheek, I took his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. When we'd taken several steps he chuckled and said, "So much for knowing my own kid."
"Oh, Daddy. Outside of Mama and Ben you know me better than anyone."
"Not like I thought I did. I bet Ben you wouldn't wear this outfit in a million years."
"You did?" I giggled.
He nodded and grinned. "I owe that bum seventy-five bucks."
"Well, it was a sure thing."
"What was a sure thing?" Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz asked, walking up behind him.
"Hey, Mama," I said, hugging her. "He and Ben are betting, again."
"How much have you lost this time?" she asked, punching him gently on the arm.
He told her and she laughed. "You should know by now, she'll do anything Ben dares her to do."
"Yeah. Well." He shrugged.
"Too bad he's missing all the fun, he's managed to stir up," she said, pulling Daddy away to dance.
Ben had called last night to say he wouldn't be home until next week. The family business he'd gone to take care of in Atlanta wasn't getting resolved as quickly as planned and he couldn't leave until things were settled.
I turned to walk off the floor and bumped into John who was walking up behind me. Cheeks flushed, he apologized and said, "I thought maybe it could be my turn, now."
I consented and his green eyes sparkled with pleasure as he took me in his arms and hesitantly placed his right hand in the small of my back. As we danced, his gaze kept straying to my cleavage and his cheeks grew pinker by the moment. Thinking I ought to distract him, I asked him about how his classes were going. We were in the middle of discussing his faltering grades in math when I spotted Zorro leaning casually against the frame of the door leading out into the courtyard.
The masked hero is a prominent figure in my fantasies and I immediately felt my nipples harden and my clit began throbbing as juices flooded my pussy.
Zorro deliberately licked his lips and smiled at me.
My pussy spasmed and I caught my breath.
"You okay?" John asked.
My face burning, I nodded. "My ankle twinged. I'm not used to these boots."
"I don't know how you're even walking in them," he said.
I giggled and said, "Me, either."
Ignoring Zorro by maintaining eye-contact with John, I managed to get through the rest of the dance without having any further mishaps. However, the fact of simply being watched by the man I'd fantasized about so long, maintained the steady flow of juices between my thighs; thus, when the dance ended I promised John another later on and fled to the bathroom. Fortunately, the other stalls were empty when I wiped my saturated pussy with the wet paper towel. The sensations were so incredible; I was unable to keep from crying out. The next instant, my fingers were stroking my engorged clit, and I became so caught up in my pleasure, I didn't know anyone was in the room with me until I heard the gentle but stern command, "Senorita, stop!"
Startled, I bumped my head against the stall door and lost interest in my pussy as stars of a different sort temporarily filled my eyes.
"Are you all right, Little One?"
His Spanish accent was flawless.
"No. Yes." I sank down on the toilet seat and rubbed the top of my head.
"My deepest apologies for frightening you, Chica." He sounded amused. "I thought you would hear my entrance. The door of this sanctuary squeaks so."
"What do you want, Senor?" I asked.
I could hardly believe the sensuality he managed to project into one simple word.
"Please, Senor," I begged, gasping as my pussy twitched.
"Please what, Little One?"
"Bring you some lemonade?"
"No, thank you."
"A cookie, perhaps?"
I shook my head. And bit my lip to keep from moaning.
"No, Senor. No, cookie."
I sighed. "No."
"Frustrating is it not, Little One?"
"So tell me what you want."
"I want you to kiss me. Okay?"
"Kiss you where?"
"Where? Here. There. What difference does it make?"
"Unlatch the door, Senorita."
I slid the lock back and he stepped inside the stall. Cupping my cheek in his gloved right hand, looked directly into my eyes for several seconds. He then kissed my forehead and reminded me I had a safe word.
"I don't want to use it, Senor" I said.
He smiled and said, "That's my chica," and ordered me to give him my panties.
I slid the white laced silk underwear the rest of the way off and placed them in his outstretched gloved-hand. He brushed the wet cloth against his cheek and sniffed. "Your perfume is magnificent, Little One," he commented as he stuffed them in a concealed pocket of his cape. "Now tell me what you want."
I frowned. "I told you already."
"You weren't completely honest with me were you, Chica."
"No, Senor," I looked down at my lap.
Using his fingers to lift my chin, he brought his face close to mine and whispered, "What do you want?"
"I want you."
"To stand on my head?"
I shook my head.
"To rob a bank?"
"What then?" He kissed my left hand. "What do you want?"
I bit my lip.
"If you don't tell me in the next five seconds, I'm leaving and will call everything off until you're twenty-one."
He held up his hand and was down to three fingers when I blurted, "I want you to make love to me, Senor."
"Gracious, Little One," he responded, kissing my cheek. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Yes." I shook my head. "No."
Chuckling, he pulled me to my feet and held my trembling body against him for several minutes before ushering me to the sink to wash my hands and face. When I was dried off, he said, "Lift your skirt, Senorita, and spread your thighs."
.... There is more of this story ...