Chapter 15

Party Night

I leaned over Grant’s shoulder with a brush in my hand to check on his hair in the mirror. “Is it too fluffy?”

Grant responded absently, concentrating on his own reflected face, “It’s perfect, hon. Don’t jostle me now, I’m trying to get my mascara just right.” It’s true. My very masculine roommate uses mascara to make his eyelashes look thicker and longer. He explained it to me: “People get nervous treating me as a sub, because I’m a topper. The eyelashes make me less threatening. It worked like a champ when I was cruising the clubs.”

He finished, batted his eyes at his reflection, and nodded, straightening up. He looked at me. “Wait, one of your straps is twisted.” He spent a moment fiddling with my outfit. “Watch for that when you put it back on later.”

I looked over my roommate and sighed. “You look so sensational! I’ve got to stop looking. I’ll drag you to bed and we’ll forget about the party.”

Grant grinned. “I’d love to...” He winced. “Stop saying stuff like that. You’re making me drip, and these slacks have to last me all night.” Grant had opted for a somewhat outlaw look: bright red knit shirt with a really deep v-neck, black leather jacket open almost to his navel, dark brown slacks that went well with his skin tone, brushed calfskin boots. The tight slacks emphasized his long legs, as if a guest might otherwise not have noticed them.

I looked down at myself. “At least you’ve got something down there. Don’t you think I could wear panties with this? They won’t show.” My outfit consisted of tight, very short naturally-brown leather skirt, and a complex web of leather straps that went from my shoulders halfway to my waist. They held my cups in place, forming a bra that left my breasts bare to barely above my nipples and accentuated my cleavage. It looked complicated, but I could take it off and put it back on almost as easily as a T-shirt.

Grant shook his head, brushing his hair. “It would spoil the line. And it will show if ... no when you bend over. The guests want to see pussy, not panties.”

I looked out of the bathroom as a knock sounded on the hallway door. “Who?”

“S’me.” Shawna opened the door and looked in. “I just finished...” Her eyes suddenly popped wide open, looking back and forth between Grant and me. “Wow!”

Grant and I looked at each other and grinned. I said, “Well, that’s another vote in favor.” I turned back to Shawna. “What’s up?”

Shawna shook her head as she tried to recover her chain of thought. “Oh, I was saying I’d just finished with the equipment check.” Shawna was going to be Lucas’s monitor for the party. “And I’ve been working with Perry all afternoon. He really wants to impress everybody when he hangs tonight. I feel bad about cancelling out on you, Grant. Would tomorrow at one be okay?

Shawna had been coming by every few days to practice hanging with Grant. And she’d been working with some of the other students, including Perry and Garrett. It was natural for Perry to turn to Shawna for last-minute advice. I was also helping out some students, and some were working with Grant himself, the ultimate source of all technical wisdom. A number of the first years still found Grant a little intimidating—no longer for anything Grant said, verbally or with body language, but just for his sheer virtuosity of technique.

Grant nodded. “I want to keep the focus on your desperation for now, more than the sex moves. That’s really your strength. I love how you’ve added on that quivering with tension when you’re stretched out, trying to reach down with your toes.”

Shawna beamed at the compliment. “Thanks.” She saw the clock by the bed and gasped. “Oh, I’d better get going. I asked Lucas if she’d do one more walk-through before the party starts.”

I nodded. “Sure. Good luck,” Grant following with “See you later.”

I’d already done one last walk-through to satisfy Darrel, wandering randomly around the main party hall and my assigned bedroom in the pavilion, unable to think of anything more interesting to say than “Testing one-two-three” for the microphone check.

Grant turned back to me after Shawna left. “We’ve still got an hour to kill before the first guests arrive. Any ideas?”

I giggled. “Lots, but we can’t do them. Even if we just kiss it’ll mess up my makeup. Let’s just watch some TV.”

Grant nodded and clicked the remote. “You still worried about your brother?”

I sighed. “A little, but if he can get past you, his whole sex drive must be out of whack. You can recognize him, right?”

Erland had revealed a talent for drawing equal to a professional police sketch artist. I had described Andrew to him; after studying it, Grant had said he thought he could spot Andrew no matter how dense the crowd became. “If I see anybody who comes close to looking like the drawing, I’ll look at you, and you give me a little nod if it’s him. So I won’t get sidetracked by the wrong guy. I just hope he’s there at the start. I’ll try to hang onto at least one chit as long as I can, but I can’t be rude if somebody wants one.”

“I know. But if he’s not there right at the start, he’s probably not coming to this one. If he wants to make sure of seeing me, he’d know he has to get there early.”

“Yeah.” He reached out for my hand and we sat together on our bed, trying to concentrate on the television.

I beamed as I entered the main hall, hearing several quick intakes of breath. I’d waited in line in the hallway as the other First Years entered one at a time to begin mingling with the guests. My heart was fluttering, my eyes flicking quickly to both sides, but I concentrated on smiling and making eye contact with the nearest guests, trying to trust my subconscious to set off alarm bells at the first perception of Andrew.

I felt excited and, in spite of my worries, safe within the confines of the Academy. It occurred to me that this was the first time any outsider had seen me as a NooseGirl, and I felt buoyed by pride.

The hall looked a little different from when Darrel had me walking around to test out the equipment that would track and record my movements and conversation. The walls were hung with festive, colorful crepe draperies and balloons. Music, very muted, was coming through hidden speakers.

In the very center of the big room was a standard hanging platform, with a noose dangling above it. The platform was enclosed in a cage of vertical metal bars, spaced about eight inches apart, with a square base about ten feet on a side. When Perry was hanged here later, guests would be able to watch him from any side. The cage would stop over-excited onlookers from touching him as he dangled.

I felt a little self-conscious, knowing that Darrel was watching me now from his tiny monitoring station near the pavilion, but I tried to push it out of my mind.

The reaction that had greeted my arrival was repeated, magnified, a moment later, and my smile broadened. I knew, without looking behind me, that Grant had entered. The gasps were quite audible this time.

Above the general background noise, I could hear Jackie’s delighted laugh. I managed to catch Jackie’s eye, and Jackie flashed a grin at me, before turning back to the guest she was talking to.

An elegant-looking woman dressed in a dark blue, expensive-looking and businesslike skirt and matching jacket, in her mid-thirties by my estimation, stepped in front of me, somehow without seeming rude, and smiled at me, saying, “How are you tonight, dear?”

I quickly riffled through all my memories to try to decide whether I’d ever met this woman. I flashed her a friendly smile. “Just got here. I’m trying to get used to the noise. I’m really sorry, have we met before?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grant take up the position we’d agreed on, watching for any signals. Grant raised his eyebrows questioningly. I gave him a smile, a small shrug, and a tiny headshake. I hadn’t seen Andrew yet. Grant quickly became the center of a small circle of guests. I noticed that I, too, was starting to attract a small crowd, with three men and another female standing politely within earshot, letting the woman continue her conversation with me. There was something about her, an aura of authority, that left the others reluctant to intrude.

She smiled again and took a sip from the drink she was holding. “My turn to apologize. I should have introduced myself and not left you looking puzzled like that. My name is Grace Millan, and I know your name is Amy, but we’ve never met. I own a small company that sub-contracts with your father’s corporation. Your father has a picture of you on his desk, and the last time I was there he told me you’d been admitted to the Academy. I can tell you he was every bit the proud father.” Grace beamed at me.

I was thrilled at the idea that my father might be telling others about my Academy career—it had somehow never occurred to me that he would. “Thank you for telling me, ma’am. Now, as flattering as it would be, you can’t convince me you came tonight just to see me.”

To my surprise, she laughed nervously. I suspected she wasn’t self-conscious very often. “Well, I do come here once or twice a year. Usually I’m doing it to window shop the Third Year students, to see if I might want to buy one. But I did think it would be nice to see the girl in the picture come to life. And I have to tell you,” Grace’s eyes did a quick up-and-down on my body, giving a slight head-shake in wonder, “The photo doesn’t really tell the whole story. I know the Academy encourages physical fitness but...” The up and down look again. “Haven’t you only been here a couple of months?”

I laughed. “I guess it just seems longer, ma’am. Especially in the gym. But yes, they do like us to get in shape.”

Grace gave me a smile that looked thoughtful. “I’m picturing what you’d look like in three years.”

My eyes flew open. “Do you think you’d like to buy me, ma’am?” It hadn’t occurred to me that I might work out a purchase so far in advance, but being bought by someone who worked with my father had some attractions.

Grace shook her head, looking wistful. “I’d love to wait for you, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. I’ve been grooming my executive VP to take over the company, and he’ll be ready in about another year. I’m looking forward to being hanged and converted at a big company party—no date set yet, but I don’t think I want to wait more than about another eighteen months. I’m thirty-two.”