Sally Findley was not having a particularly good time. She had come to the party because Greg had asked her, and the idea of going with him was slightly preferable to staying home alone. But shortly after getting here, Greg had spotted a blonde with big boobs and a low-cut bodice who had absorbed all his attention since, leaving Sally to wander about on her own. How typical of him, she thought. He insisted she come, and then when she finally did, there she was, dumped on her own. She hardly knew anyone, and really didn’t want to, if truth be told. She thought about raising a scene with Greg, but she really didn’t care that much, and anyway, public scenes were a drag! so she contented herself with repeated helpings of oeuvres and too many glasses of white wine.
She was unaware of the attention being paid to her by the petite brunette across the room. Judy Bolt had spotted Sally shortly after she walked in, and had silently watched her (boyfriend? No, more likely husband - boyfriend would have been more attentive) desert her for the blowsy blonde. Judy fancied herself a connoisseur of female beauty, and was impressed. The girl could be a knockout with a little work. The raw material was there; the facial bones, strong erect carriage, straight, firm, shapely legs from the look of it, hips broad but not fat, largish breasts, plumped out by an uplift bra, but firm and nicely shaped nonetheless. There was no extra fat on her tummy or hips, a point which pleased Judy. In fact, the girl seemed to carry little or no excessive fat. Probably big in sports or works out, Judy thought.
There were just a few things wrong, and those could be corrected. Make-up slightly too heavy. Her choice of dress, straight skirt tight over the hips, then up to a fluffy sort of top, cut a little too high. Probably the husband’s choice. It never hurt to make the best of one’s assets, and covering them up like that wasted them. Tiny shoulder straps. Not much of a dress for a party. Dated looking, like something out of the fifties. Definitely should be cut to show at least a little bosom, in Judy’s professional opinion. Skirt below the knees, too long for today’s fashion. Legs were in, so that skirt certainly wasn’t. If you had to wear something that unflattering, it should at least be slit up the side or something as a distraction so nobody noticed. Cut it up to the hip if you had the guts. Not many girls did though, she thought ruefully.
Judy watched the girl intently. Bored, she decided. She’d be receptive. A little more wine (not too much though, she was swilling it down heavily as it was). Suggest a little fun, another party with something far out going on. She’d probably jump at the idea. It looked like the husband/boyfriend wouldn’t be any trouble; he was too wrapped up to even notice. He’d probably be delighted to have her out of the way so he could continue looking down the front of that dress without feeling guilty. Not a bad one to look down, she speculated, but with a little luck I’ll have something interesting of my own happening.
“Try the crudities’. It’s the only thing worth eating on the whole table.” Sally was slightly startled. She looked down at the tiny brunette.
“I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?”
“Yeah. I was suggesting the celery. What can you do to celery? Besides, you lose weight eating it.”
Sally giggled. “Right.” It wasn’t that the other girl was so funny, but she had been stewing in her own gloom, and it seemed that suddenly all the wine she had been drinking ganged up on her. Her head swam slightly when she moved it and everything looked oddly tilted when she looked at it. She couldn’t remember if she had met the girl before, but it didn’t matter. That’s one of the things parties were for, meeting people. “Not that you need to lose any. But then, celery has other uses. Or the carrots. They work even better.”
“What do you mean?”
Oh oh. Was this girl that slow or what? “Use your imagination.” Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3...
Sally suddenly thought this was wildly amusing. She giggled back, “Oh. Well, If I wanted to lose anything, this sure isn’t the place.”
“That’s for sure. How come you’re here?”
“Greg. He insists. I hate it, ‘cause he never pays me any attention once we get somewhere, but I have to come to support his image.”
“Some guys are impossible, aren’t they. Hi. I’m Judy, by the way.”
“Sally Findley. That’s my name, not Greg’s. And yes, he is getting to be a pain in the you-know-where.”
“Ass, sweetie. Call it as it is. Don’t mince words, gives you indigestion.”
“Yeah, ass. I like the sound of that. Ass. That’s Greg. That’s crude enough to match the way I feel right now.”
“Sorry you’re so unhappy. Nothing’s going on here to make you feel cheery though.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m going nuts. This is a real drag.” Sally agreed with her new-found friend. “But I don’t have anything else to do. I don’t want to just go home.”
It was hard to hear. The music was very loud, in an attempt to generate the some kind of excitement. Most of the guests were looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Rather than try to shout above it, Judy took Sally by the wrist and tugged her toward the rear of the apartment. “Come,” her mouth said, although no sound came out. Sally followed obediently as Judy led her to the bathroom. With the door closed, the cacophony dimmed to a mere background.
“I’m sorry, I can’t stand talking over all that racket,” she explained. Sally nodded her complete agreement. “You want to really have some fun? I mean something totally outrageous?”
“I guess. What do you mean?”
“Well,” the other girl leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s this other party. I mean, it’s really strong.”
Sally was instantly cautious. Or at least, she meant to be. It was hard to keep her head tuned up enough. “What party?”
“It’s really wick! There’s this bunch of guys, and every once in a while they have this party, see, and they invite some girls and everything, and it’s like a costume thing, everybody dresses up. Like it’s really weird sometimes, some of the things they wear.”
Her curiosity piqued, Sally asked, “Like what?”
“Oh it’s a theme, you know, and everybody dresses like the theme. Like one time, it was circus, you know, acrobats and clowns and dancing girls, stuff like that. Another time all the guys were sultans and things, and the girls were supposed to be slaves, see. Everybody had to so what the sultans said or there was this headsman, right?, and he was in charge of punishing them if they were disobedient. Stuff like that. You’d love it. The guys are mmmm!”
Sally wasn’t so sure. “What did they have to do? The harem girls, I mean.”
“Oh, different things. They had to serve drinks and sandwiches and stuff. They made one girl do a belly dance in front of everybody. It was funny, she really didn’t know what she was doing so she just sort of made it up and wiggled to the music and everybody clapped. Finally she was laughing so hard she fell down and had to stop.” Judy licked her lips at the memory. It hadn’t been quite like that, at least for the dancer, but Sally didn’t have to know that.
“Wasn’t she embarrassed? Having to do that, I mean. Why did she do it? How did they make her do that”
“I guess maybe a little, but she was having so much fun she got over it real quick. Nobody made her do it. I mean, like nobody forced her, you know? It’s like the Sultan ordered it, so she obeyed. You know how it is, you get really into something and you do things you ordinarily wouldn’t.”
Sally thought it over. “I guess.” She couldn’t remember ever getting that much outside herself. She wondered who these people were, and exactly what sort of party. They sounded really weird. Did she want anything to do with these - kooks? - she wondered. A thought occurred that gave her pause. “The girl, what was she wearing? I mean, what costume? Where did she get it?
“I’m not sure where she got it. Most of the girls figure out something, but they always have a few costumes extra, you know, in case somebody gets invited at the last minute.”
“But what was it?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Some kind of harem girl thing. You know, wispy pantaloons and a sequined top. It’s a Roman theme tonight.”
“You know, everybody dresses up like Romans, in togas and things.”
“What do they do?” Sally had never been to anything like that. It sounded exotic.
“Mostly like any other party. You eat and drink and maybe dance and talk. Sometimes it gets a little wild. They make up games to go with the theme. Why? You wanna go? Oh, I forgot, you can’t.”
“Yeah. You have a date. Didn’t you come in with that guy?”
“Greg? Yeah. I did. Greg insists I come with him to all these things, then he goes and finds somebody like...” she waved vaguely toward the other room “her to spend the evening with. I don’t see him again until it’s time to go home.”
“Husbands are a drag.”
“Yeah. Well, he’s not exactly my husband. We’re just living together.”
“Sounds to me like a waste of time. You could do better than that.”
“On my salary, I can’t afford a place of my own. So I put up with him. It’s not all that bad.”
“Is he good in bed at least? Oops. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s OK. Not especially. Actually, we don’t much. I don’t mind talking about it. I don’t get to talk to people much anymore about anything, really talk, you know. Anyway, I think I could probably split and he’d never notice. He might even spend the night with that broad he was drooling over and not know I was missing.”
“Does he do that?”
“Yeah, sometimes. He tells me he’s got some big business deal going and would I mind taking a cab. Then he doesn’t show up ‘til the next day.”
“Well, if you think you can get away, we could go. Wanna try?”
“Would they let us in? I mean, who are they? They don’t know me.”
“I’ve never known then to turn away a girl. Especially a cute one. Besides, you’ll be with me.” When I bring them anyway, Judy thought. Those assholes like the girls I bring them. They’ll especially like this one, she’s too dumb to catch on until it’s too late.
“But I don’t have a costume? Wouldn’t I need a toga or something? Could I go like this?”
“They’ll have something you could wear.” Almost wear, she corrected to herself. “You really want do it? It’ll be a ball. Lots more fun that this.”
That wouldn’t be hard, Sally thought. “You really think it’d be OK? Who are they anyway?”
“Just, you know, some guys. They’re musicians. They got a band. You know, like rock singers.”
She did. “They aren’t anybody like, really famous or anything are they?”
“I don’t know. Might be. Mostly it’s backup groups, dancers and stuff, but sometimes the stars come too.” That’s it little Sally, chew on the bait.
“Really?” Sally’s eyes were getting bigger.
Sure, and they all like naive girls like you. Pretty girls who are so bored they’ll do anything they’re told if it sounds exciting, without asking difficult questions. Until it’s too late. Judy felt excited as she set the hook.
“That’s what I hear. Bruce Springstein was there one time, and Adam Ant. They tell me Madonna showed up once. Course you never know.”
“Where is this place?”
“Not too far. In Brooklyn. It’s like a private club they have.”
“I’ll tell you what. Get your stuff and I’ll meet you in the hall by the front door in five minutes. I think we shouldn’t let people see us leaving together, you know. I’ll drive.”
Sally, lost in the glow of stardom agreed. As she started to leave the bathroom, Judy stopped her. “Oh, I should tell you this, They’re really serious about the costume thing you know. You have to be dressed for it. You can’t wear your street clothes. You’ll spoil the illusion.”
Sally paused. She understood that. Why was Judy so insistent? Just to be sure, she asked, “What do you mean. You’re saying I’d have to get undressed?”
Judy hastened to reassure her. “Oh, not really, just anything that would show under a toga. I don’t mean you have to take your undies off or anything like that.” However, you will look good with your undies off, she mused. I’m looking forward to that. I wonder if those tits look as good in the flesh as they do under that dress. “Don’t worry about it,” she prompted. “costume parties are a ball. I’ll meet you in the hall in five minutes.”
Sally didn’t see the analytical look on Judy’s face, watching her as she left the bathroom, her eyes glued to the swelling hips and bottom concealed under the tight sheath. Uh huh, she thought, the first thing we’ll do is get that dress off of you. I’m sure you’ll look much better without it. After that, well...
She hadn’t mentioned that the women at this party wouldn’t wear togas. They would be dressed only in what they called stolas. They weren’t really roman – they were too short for that - designed to show off the girl underneath to best advantage. Time enough later for dear little Sally to find out about that. Judy’s face curled up in a grin at the thought. Maybe she would even like it. Sometimes it was hard to tell in advance. Not that it mattered.
They were able to park almost in front of the Brooklyn Heights brownstone - something almost unheard of. The were buzzed in and walked to the third floor up a steep winding staircase that squeaked with age. It was almost spooky, Sally thought. At the apartment door, they were examined through a peephole before being allowed in. A Roman centurion opened the door. He obviously knew Judy, but he examined Sally in some detail before letting them in. Sally had the feeling he was looking right through her dress She shuddered under his scrutiny.
“Dressing room’s to the right, slaves,” was his only comment. Sally looked to the left down the short vestibule corridor toward the sounds of partying, but the room was dimly lighted, and she really couldn’t see anything except the end of another room.
“In here,” Judy urged her guest to the right toward a bedroom. “This is where we get into our outfits before we go in.” She closed the bedroom door behind them and went to the closet, pulling out two white garments. “This is mine. I think this one will fit you.”
Sally looked dubiously at the bit of cloth offered her. “I thought we were going to wear togas.”
“The men wear togas. We wear these. They’re called stolas. The Roman slave women wore them”.
“Oh.” Sally felt embarrassed at her gaffe. “I was just surprised. I thought stolas were, like floor length.”
“Well, yeah. Real stolas were long. These aren’t. Formal ones were. These are informals.” She got very girl-to-girl confidential. “You know how guys are. They like to see legs, so we have to wear things that show us off. Come on, you aren’t trying to tell me you never wore a mini are you? There’s nothing wrong with your legs, is there?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I guess it’s OK. I had just pictured something different. What did he mean when he called us ‘slaves’?”
“Oh nothing. He was just playing. You’re new, so he was playing big shot.” Judy was busily unfastening hooks and zippers. She pulled her party dress off over her head and carefully hung it up. She stood in nothing but black frilly panties and a lace bra, checking Sally’s reaction. Sally was still contemplating the bit of cloth on the bed. “Well come on, you can’t wear that under your costume.” She dug out a hanger. “Here, hang your dress on this.” Seeing Sally still hesitating, Judy decided to press.
“Let me help with that.” She moved behind Sally and unhooked the top of her dress and ran the zipper. The dress peeled open, exposing bare back. She noted that Sally’s strapless bra hooked from behind, then urged the thin dress straps down off the other girl’s shoulders.
Sally caught the top of her dress, then, apparently deciding that she was being foolish, let it fall, pushed it off her hips and stepped out of it. She covered her uncertainty by making a fuss arranging it on the hangar.
Judy stepped back to admire. “Wow! I’ll say you don’t have anything wrong.”
Sally reddened, and unconsciously brought her hands up in a cover up gesture. The strapless, push-up bra forced her already substantial breasts into prominence. They overflowed the top of the bra in two great swelling curves, their slight separation emphasizing the deep crevice plunging between them.
Judy just grinned at her, a knowing grin that brought even more color to the other girl’s face. Sally turned away to cover her embarrassment so she didn’t see the hungry look on Judy’s face as she stared at the smooth curve of Sally’s buttocks, nicely outlined under wispy pantyhose and a pair of thin bikini panties. Her eyes followed the crease between the swelling cheeks, outlined by the tight blue nylon, to where it plunged between Sally’s legs.
Judy pulled herself together, picked up the stola and carried it to Sally. “Here, put this on. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I meant that to be a compliment.”
As she turned back, Sally realized what a fool she must have looked like. Making such a fuss over an innocent comment like that! Thinking about it, she knew she looked good. She knew a lot of girls felt they had inadequate development, and she should be happy that she was so well endowed. Actually, when she let herself think about it, she was pleased. They were prominent without being grotesque. Just a couple of nice, generous ... handfuls? Was that wishful thinking, she wondered.
She took the white garment and pulled it on over her head. The thing draped firmly, but not too tightly over her body. Starting with a single loop over her right shoulder, it swooped down under her right arm. A separate gather pulled in the waist, from where it fell in a short skirtlet to just below her hips. She tugged at the hem self-consciously. “It’s awfully short.”
Judy smiled agreement. “I know. Like a skating skirt. But everybody else is wearing them too, so it’s not like you’ll stand out. Well,” she admitted, “maybe a little. You’ve got more of what they like to look at than most. A bunch of the girls are dancers. They’re used to working in leotards, so this is like nothing to them.”
“I guess. I’m just not used to it. Don’t worry”, she hastened to say, seeing the look in Judy’s face, “I’ll be OK. I’ll get used to it.”
There was a full-length mirror in the room. Sally looked herself over as she adjusted the dress. The stola hung rather low on her right side under her arm, but she found that by pulling the shoulder strap off her left shoulder, it would tighten up enough to just cover the side of her bra. That made the top lower and rather unstable, and exposed a little more than she was comfortable with, but what the hell, it was a party, wasn’t it? You were supposed to go a little further at a party than you usually would. “How did Roman women manage these, I wonder?” she thought. She was startled when Judy answered. She hadn’t realized she had spoken. “I don’t think they wore bras back then. At least not push-ups.”
“Oh.” It would look better without the bra, she supposed, but she certainly wasn’t going to do that! She tried to picture herself; boobs swinging freely under the loose top, threatening to pop out at any moment. An impish thought passed through her head; why not? In a hundred years, what difference would it make? It might be fun to let a bunch of guys all go nuts over her tits. She felt a little tingle at the thought. Her hand actually went for the back of the stola, where the clasp was, but she couldn’t make the next move and open it, and she turned the gesture into a back scratch. Maybe someday she would have the courage to try something like that. Not tonight.
“Let me look at you.” She turned for Judy’s inspection. “You look really scrumptious. Take off the pumps, we wear sandals.” She produced a pair. Sally took them and stared at them.
“How can I wear these? They have to go on bare feet.”
“Of course. Oh, I see. Yeah, you do have a problem. You can’t wear those pumps though. You better take off the pantyhose.”
“You are kidding? I mean ... Aren’t you ... no, you’re not wearing any, are you? But really!” Looking at Judy, she became aware that the other girl hadn’t dressed yet, and was still standing in her skimpy underwear. She really looked at the other girl for the first time. Judy was shorter, with narrower shoulders and smaller breasts, which her bra contrived to make the most of anyway. And those panties! Sally felt herself wonder if she could ever wear anything like that. They were french-cut, practically nothing but an elastic band at the top over the sides of the legs, with a little band of cloth as a sort of cache-sexe which molded itself to her prominent mound. She suddenly realized she had been rudely staring. “Shouldn’t you get dressed? What if somebody came in?”
“It would just be another girl. They’ve all seen me like this. Anyway, They didn’t have pantyhose in Rome back then, you know.” Judy had not missed the direction of the other girl’s stare.
“Of course I know that. But this isn’t ancient Rome.”
“Sally! Are you going to be a pain?” Her voice sounded annoyed. “You said you wanted to do this. I thought were into having some fun. I guess I was wrong. I guess I can take you back to Caldwell’s party. I’m sure there’s still somebody there. Maybe your friend and his blonde...”
“Please. Come on, You know I don’t want to do that. Neither of us wants to go back to that!”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to. But you could.”
“Maybe I’ll just go home.”
“All right, if that’s what you want. You can call a cab.” Judy started for the closet to retrieve Sally’s dress.
“No, I don’t really want to do that. Come on, be reasonable. How can I be in a party with a bunch of guys without ... well, you know!”
Judy said nothing, but stood holding out the dress. She watched the inner turmoil with an impassive face.
“Oh all right! If it means that much. I still think its a horrid thing to do to someone. Turn around please. I don’t want an audience.”
Judy was grinning as she went back to the closet. Not all that hard to talk you out of your pantyhose, is it girl? When she turned again, Sally stood holding out the wispy bit of stretch nylon. Now, if I could just get you to take off your bra, she thought. Maybe later, after certain - influences - had a chance to work. The auction would take care of her panties. After that, well, life was interesting. Especially with a wide-eyed innocent like this one. Some girls got jaded after a while, and the sport went out of it. It was far more fun with a new one like this who would protest and be humiliated and maybe even fight back.
Judy was good at this and she knew it. Under her guidance, any number of innocents had learned how to play rough after discovering some of the pleasures their bodies were capable of.
“Hey, Relax,” she told her obviously ill-at-ease student. “You look so up tight. It’s just pretend after all.
“I guess I’m just being silly. I never did anything like this before.”
“No, I mean ... where you have to ... show so much ... be so undressed. In public.” Her eyes got bigger was she watched Judy shrug herself out of her bra. Her nipples were bigger than Sally expected, for such a tiny girl. Judy picked up her stola and started to get into it, then paused, tossed it back on the bed and walked over to Sally. She put her hands on the other girl’s shoulders. Sally didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t back up; she was already back against the dresser. She didn’t know where to look; the bare breasts in front of her irresistibly attracted her eyes, but is seemed so ... what? gauche? to stare at them. She settled for staring over the smaller girl’s shoulder.
Judy was amused at Sally’s discomfort. (That’s why she did it, after all). What’s the matter girl? Never seen a pair of boobs before? “Let me fill you in on a few things. First of all, it isn’t public, it’s private.”
“Oh I know, but...”
“Hush. Secondly, you’re showing less than you do on the beach. Thirdly, what’s the very worst thing that could possibly happen?”
“I don’t know?”
“Certainly you do. Don’t be dumb. You attract some guy’s attention and he moves on you, right?”
“You’re not a virgin, right?”
“So you can take care of yourself. Who knows, you might come across something you like. You can tell me that little black item you were wearing wasn’t a hunting outfit, but I know better. Right?”
“Well no, not really...”
“Bullshit! You were bored stiff and hoping some guy would decide you needed cheering up. Or ... something.” The “or something” left no doubt as to what she meant.
Sally found herself staring at Judy’s breasts again, despite her best intentions. She wondered why the nipples were erect. It wasn’t cold in here. She tried to tear her eyes away. Judy pulled her closer and tipped her head up, solving the problem. She found herself now staring into a pair of bottomless brown eyes.
“Listen to mama, girl. You wanted some adventure. Well maybe something will happen to you here tonight. Maybe you’re fated to get laid tonight. If so, then it’s going to happen. You don’t have anything to say about it, the Gods will take care of it. So stop being such a prune and start acting like a woman.” With that, Judy turned on her heel and went about getting dressed.
Sally stood in confusion. She wished it was all as simple as her new friend seemed to think. She was still mulling it over when Judy grabbed her arm and led her toward the door.
The room had almost no furniture in it. There were cushions on the floor, and a few low tables made of plywood and bricks held various liquids and snacks. A platform rather like a stage about a foot high and perhaps six feet square, dominated one end of the room. Seven other girls, not counting herself and Judy, she counted. About twenty guys, she estimated. The room was dimly lit by several candles, which cast grotesque shadows on the walls. Low music played from somewhere, a driving thumping beat which insisted on action, almost irresistibly compelling the hips to move with a primitive pulse. In fact, several bodies gyrated on the floor in tempo. With a start, Sally realized there was an eighth girl in the room. She hadn’t seen her at first, because she was in a corner, almost hidden under the toga-clad body which was slowing moving on top of her. Sally felt a cold chill shake her. My God, they look like ... are they really fucking? A sudden premonition swept through her. She looked around, looking for an exit. A small vestibule behind her led to the entrance to the apartment. A typical Brooklyn entryway with a steel door, a snap lock and a deadbolt. The bolt was not standard. It was one of those things that took a key to open it from either side of the door. Those were common where there was glass in the door, to keep somebody from breaking the window and reaching through to unlock the door. But there was no window in that door. The windows across the room had burglar bars across them. She was suddenly sure they were locked tightly as well.
Judy had left Sally to fix drinks. From a small bottle in the rear of a kitchen cabinet she took a capsule. A downer of sorts. Hypnotic. Didn’t make you sleepy, just reduced your inhibitions, made you not care. About anything. She opened the capsule and poured the contents into one of the glasses of red wine she had. There wasn’t much taste to it, and what there was would be covered and disguised by the heady body of the wine. She watched it dissolve as she stirred. Oh yes, Sally dear. You are going to like this wine.
She quickly found her guest again and pressed the glass on her. “Try this,” she said. “I know you prefer white, but the Romans, you know...”
Sally didn’t know what to do. The feeling of panic had passed, and been replaced a gnawing concern. What kind of people are these, she wondered. If I suddenly wanted to leave, would I be able to? “Why is the door locked on the inside?” she blurted.
Judy looked at her oddly. “I don’t know that it is. And why does it matter?”
Sally suddenly felt very foolish. She hadn’t actually tried the door to see if it was really locked. If she was wrong, it was a dumb thing to say. She took the glass from Judy and took a long sip. She wrinkled her nose. Peasant wine. Rough. Palatable, but just barely. “I don’t know. I just wondered if I had to see somebody when I wanted to go home. You know, to let me out.” It sounded lame, even to her.
“You just got here.”
“I know. Forget it. What is this stuff?”
“The bottle says Chianti. You guess is as good as mine. What does it taste like to you?”
Sally took another taste, a longer one this time. “I’d like to say vinegar. But that’s unkind to our host. Or hostess. Who is that, by the way?”
“It’s Buddy’s apartment.” She glanced at the couple bouncing in the corner. “I think we’ll meet him later. Hi, this is Jill. Jill, this is Sally.” Jill was a tall, willowy blonde whose legs seemed to start at her armpits. The short skirt accentuated that impression. She’s not wearing a bra either, Sally noted. She probably should be. There’s altogether too much hanging out free to be civilized. And there was no doubt where her nipples were.
Jill looked back and forth between Judy and Sally, speculatively. She seemed to make up her mind. “Hi Sally. Just get here?”
“Yeah. Has this been going on long?”
“The party? For a while. Are you from Brooklyn? I though all Brooklyn girls tawlked loike this.”
Sally giggled at the accent. She stared into Jill’s cleavage for a moment before she caught herself.
“No. I’m from New York. But I have my passport. What’s that for?” She pointed to a red ribbon pinned to Jill’s stola over her right breast. Looking around, she saw that a couple of the other girls were wearing them also.
“I guess you could call it a merit badge. Like the red badge of courage, you know?”
It was Jill’s turn to giggle. “More like Hester’s ‘A’?”
Judy came to the rescue with the explanation. “There’s a sort of ritual that some of us have gone through. It’s like a badge you get when you do it.”
“What kind of ritual?”
“Wait, you’ll probably see one before long. It’s easier than telling you.”
“Oh.” Sally drank the rest of the wine. She was surprised that the glass was empty. She’d have to be careful, she though. A little of that goes a long way. Especially on top of what she’d already drunk.
“Well, who’s this little buttercup?” The Roman couldn’t seem to raise his eyes above the level of her chest, and was maneuvering to be able to look down the front of her dress. Sally tried to turn away, but he held her shoulders so she couldn’t, so she quit trying. After all, what difference did it make if he got a peek? They all tried to. If they didn’t, she thought there was something wrong.
“This is Bob. He’s a real Roman. At least he’s got roman hands. Sally.”
“Roman hands.” That old saw was funny to Sally, but she couldn’t quite see why.
“See, like this.” His finger traced the upper curve of her breast and plunged into the crevice between. He tugged, evidently hoping to pull the front of the stola down. Sally caught his hand and gently disengaged it. She knew she ought to be mad, but for some reason, she wasn’t. She stood holding his hand. “Hey, I’m going to bid at your auction.” He leaned forward and gave her a sloppy kiss.
“Please, don’t do that.”
“Oh, not ‘till later, huh? OK love, till later.” He gave her a swat on her fanny and lunged off.
She met several other people after that, but then they saw her with Judy, they all seemed to treat her as though she were Judy’s possession. She was pondering this, but finding it difficult to understand. Must be all that wine. Her head was not working very well. She found she couldn’t pursue a single thought to a conclusion anymore. Oh well, she’d be OK again in the morning.
She was vaguely surprised when she felt Judy’s hands on her shoulders. She must have twitched at the unexpected contact, because she heard Judy’s voice behind her say, “What’s the matter kitten? You feel so tense.”
“You just startled me, that’s all.” That must be what it was. The hands felt nice against her skin, she really didn’t mind the contact. She wondered why Judy was standing so close, lightly touching her with her body. Sally was aware of the warmth of the other woman, so close.
“I think you need to be more relaxed. Don’t you think you should be relaxed at parties?”
Now that she mentioned it, Sally agreed. She should be more relaxed. The fingers gently worked at her shoulder muscles. “Let me give you a back rub. You’ll feel so much better.”
Judy’s trained hands worked on her back, finding the tenseness in the muscles and urging it away. Sally was unsure about the physical contact; that was something that always made her uneasy, but it felt so good ... Anyway, it was a girl doing it, so that was all right.
It felt so good she didn’t even protest as Judy guided her toward one of the mats and laid her down on it. The hands rubbed the broad expanse of bare back exposed by the skimpy gown, and discovering all the little tensions and kneading them away. The hands worked their way to her waist, dissolving worry.
The effect on Judy herself was quite different. The physical contact of her fingers on the bare flesh of the other woman sent chills through her body. The process of touching was part of it, but anticipation of what might be to come ran rampantly through her.
Sally lay face down on the pad, self absorbed in a languorous, fuzzy trance. She was not really aware (or, truthfully didn’t really care) when the magic fingers moved down her back, carrying the shoulder strap and the back of her gown down with them, exposing more and more skin. It felt so good. For some reason it didn’t occur to her that there was anyone else around, anyone avidly watching more and more feminine skin appear. The other girl’s hands were working under and around her bra strap, and she murmured something in response to a half heard question. She was vaguely surprised when a tension about her chest loosened, and the hands were free to massage where they had difficulty before. She had one arm under her head and tried to raise up on the other one to see what had happened. She was vaguely aware that her breast was bare as she rose, the hands firmly pressed her back down and continued their work.
Judy was completely aware of the exposure. She arranged Sally’s free arm over her head, out of the way. She spent a moment admiring the curve of it, the hollow of the carefully shaven armpit leading to the variegation of ribs, the soft swelling breast, compressed under Sally’s weight so it expanded sideways out from under her. Judy felt herself growing warm and moist from the sight. Later, she thought. No too fast.
Sally was not aware that a number of the guests were watching from various parts of the room, but Judy was. She shifted subtly to improve their view. She worked over Sally’s waist and upper hips, soothing, invigorating. As Sally grew more languid, she moved lower, straddling the girl as she massaged. The hips, avoiding the buttocks. Much as she wanted to glide her hands over those silken globes, it was too soon yet. Down the legs to the feet. Slowly, oh so slowly. Slip off the loose sandals. Massage the bare feet. Careful not to tickle. The arches, the instep, the Achilles tendon. Gently. Then back up to the calves. The back of the knees. That special place there, that only she knew about. Judy moved Sally’s legs, and now knelt between them, gradually creeping up as she worked her way higher. Opening Sally’s legs, but so naturally she didn’t notice. Preparing. There, the backs of the legs were done.
It was but the work of a moment to flip the little skirt up, uncovering the tiny bikini panties. Judy took a moment to enjoy the sight. Then her fingers continued at the very top of the female legs. They moved up the sides of the hips, but with a difference this time. This time her hands rested right on the beautiful cheeks, flesh contacting flesh. Then flesh contacting nylon. Judy’s breath was short and her face flushed as she contemplated the tiny bit of cloth which disappeared between the other girl’s legs, bulging slightly, with a faint hint of the furrow beneath it. She knelt between Sally’s legs, pressing them apart, stretching the tight panty crotch which she longed to touch, but knew better than to. That was sure to spoil a beautiful moment. A few stray hairs crept out past the elastic, blonde as the hair on sally’s head. Several people had moved closer for a better view.
Judy’s fingers worked so close, yet not close enough. Make her want to be touched, long to be touched, but deny her the satisfaction. Bring her to a boil, then let her simmer. Her keen eyes told her she was succeeding when a drop of moisture stained the exposed panty crotch. She smiled as Sally’s hips moved almost imperceptibly as she pressed herself harder against the pad, trying to ease the building itch. A few more moments of stroking, just missing the critical areas would do it. Judy’s fingers moved knowingly. Sally’s hips moved back and forth against the pad. She would have closed her legs if she could have; that way she could have applied pressure where it would do some good. But Judy knelt between them still, pinning her legs apart, denying her that release. The wet spot on the panty crotch grew larger and wetter still.