The party was my idea. I'm Helen Shore. It is a Halloween costume party with all thirty-five of the women wearing the same red Can-Can dresses, with long sleeves, high necks, short skirts fringed by fluffy crêpe. I am providing violet contact glasses to each woman, because one of the husbands told me, when I called, that he could pick out his wife by looking at the color of her eyes. We all will have wigs, and red masks, so that the fellows will have no idea who they are dancing with. My two daughters will be there, along with ten of their girl friends, some married, some single.

In addition, I have invited the normal crowd that I have over to the house for New Years evening. As a result we will have an interesting mix of people who don't all know each other.

In my younger days, I was a Showgirl on Broadway. I love to party, dance, and flirt. I have kept my weight down to one hundred and twenty-two pounds, so my daughters, Cindy and Donna, and I all have an identical figure, even to the A-cup breasts.

All the women came early to be made up. Even with the lights on, it was impossible to tell who was who. For the party, the only lights that I am leaving on are slowly turning red, blue, and purple lights. There will be just enough light to dance by, find the bar, or your way to the bathroom.

I have hired the band, "Wild Knights." I had heard them before. I love their great beat. It is similar to the "Mo-Town Sound." There is an open bar, and the food was catered. A sign, that I placed on the front door reads;

"Gentlemen, the Ladies within are all French Harlots, who do not speak English. They are here for your entertainment."

After I taped the sign up, and it would only be seen by the men, I wrote in with pen, "None of the Ladies are wearing either bra or panties."

In fact, that was true. The girls had agreed to add spice to the party by knowing that nothing covered their pussies or contained their breasts.

At my New Years eve party, Danny Bird had been dancing with me. I was pretty high. He reached down to playfully grab both cheeks of my ass. When he did, his hands went below my skirt, finding my ass bare.

"Oh," he had said, as he led me down the hallway to a bedroom. In my walk-in closet, he lifted my left leg. His cock slid in me. His thrusts were hard up thrusts that almost took me off the foot that I was balancing on. It was so exciting. Danny and his wife, Joan, would be here tonight. I have to admit it, I want him to take me again. I know that he will want to. It will be interesting to see if he could find me, without my help.

"Everyone ready," I said, as the doorbell rang. Several girls giggled. Melissa Kern said in her sultry, low, sexy, voice, "Girls, you have my permission to flirt with my hubby, Terry, all night. If you do, by the time we get home, he will mount me in the foyer."

Cindy added, "I want to flirt with that Ken Spagnoletti. He is as editable as a "Chippendale."

In walked Billy Johnson, Jim Peters, Art Morse, Brent Adams, Ken Spagnoletti, followed by Terry Kern. The party started. Terry Kern, twenty years my junior, thinking that I was one of the younger girls, took my hand, directing me to the dance floor.

With subtle, smooth hand motions, as my rear precisely flowed to the rhythm, I showed him how a Broadway Baby could display her body. He knew that I was not Melissa, but that was all he knew. Between songs, I drew him close, resting my hip against his leg.

You may be wondering where my Charlie is at the moment. Charlie is a duck hunter. He is down in Louisiana for a week hunt. He is hunting. So am I.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Joan and Danny Bird, as they arrived. Or, at least that is who I thought it was. She was dressed like the rest of the women, a Can-Can dancer. He was dressed as Superman. In character, he had pants on that revealed a large bulge between his legs. I took Joan by the arm. After we were alone in the bathroom, I gave her a different wig, that was exactly like the rest of us were wearing. Even Danny would not recognize her now.

Charlie had commented that he thought that Joan was at the point in their marriage, where she could be seduced, if somebody came on to her. I noticed from the jiggle of her tits, as she walked over to the bar, that she was not wearing a bra under her costume. Her breasts were not big, but they were perky.

I watched Danny's eyes checking out the chests of the girls. The Shit was looking for small tits, thinking that if he found them, it would be me. That is what you expect from a man. Let him fuck you once, he will want it every time he sees you. I like that in a man!

I will keep him waiting for my pussy. Let him simmer some. Terry held me close as a slow dance song was played. I pressed my chest to his. His hand slid down, giving him some very quick hand-to-ass contact. To be a Bitch, I slid my leg forward, gently rubbing across his cock. He froze. That was a first for that boy, I am sure. Following it up, I kissed him on the cheek. Then, without a word, turned, to go to the bar for a drink. That would give Terry food for lots of thoughts.

I drank down a "Screw Driver." Billy Johnson, following the rules that the women would not speak, took my arm to steer me to the dance floor. As we danced, I could not help smiling. The seduction was on. Danny Bird had one of the other women in a corner dancing very close to her. As we passed by them, I saw that his hand was under the woman's dress, feeling her ass to see if she was me.

As we continued, Ken Spagnoletti appeared out of the slowly revolving lights. I moved away from Billy, just for a moment. Grabbing Ken's arm, I pointed to Joan Bird. Ken let out a low, soft chuckle, as he nodded. Downing the last of his drink, he sauntered in her direction. I knew that Danny Bird's mind was on getting some pussy. If I didn't point someone her way, Joan might be in for a lonely evening. Perfect hostess, huh?

A great "Jitter Bug" song started to play. I pulled on Billy's hand. He shook his head, No. No one seemed to be moving to the dance floor, so I grabbed the hand of one of the girls, while tilting my head towards the dance floor.

From the way that she walked, I was pretty sure that it was my daughter, Cindy. I became sure as we begin to give the dance the "Shore" treatment, with moves that I knew, and had passed on to my daughters. Several guys clapped and cheered as we put on a show. When the tune ended, we stood panting.

Danny Bird walked up behind Cindy. As he put his arm around her, he whispered to her, "Helen, you have given yourself away. No one else can dance like that." As he took her hand to lead her off into the dark, Cindy cast a glance my way, to acknowledge that we had him fooled completely.

Art Morse took me in his arms, as the next dance started, before I had time to consider just what Danny would try to do with Cindy. My two "Screw Drivers" put a rosy hue on the fun that everyone seemed to be having. I looked in the corner past the table that held the food. Jim Peters had his back to the wall, with a girl in his arms. Her dress was hiked up in the rear. Jim's hands were plainly visible holding both cheeks of her fanny. Hmmm, that looks like fun, I thought.

Of all of the girls, Melissa Kern had the nicest breasts. For this evening, she intended to wear a tight bra to hide her bosoms, but when we all decided to go braless, she shrugged it off with the comment, "In the dark, no one will see them."

Maybe not, but when dancing close, Brent Adams figured out who she was. He had seen one of the girls leading Terry Kern out the rear door into the dark back yard, so concluded that Terry would at least get some heavy petting, if not a good fuck. From her staggering gait, he knew that Melissa had consumed her share of the drinks. He pictured in his mind how she looked in a bathing suit. She was a little full in the hips. Even for her age, which he guessed to be thirty-six, her tits hung down like an older woman. She has a tummy pod from the extra stretched skin from her pregnancy. But, and this was a big but, Melissa Kern reeked femininity, sexuality, and her eyes just seemed to beg you to go to bed with her. Damn, if you got down wind of her, the fragrance that she wore would drive you mad. Brent had flirted with her at several parties during the last three years. At least twenty times, he had got the three-dollar tit view when she bent over for something. When dancing with her, he had slid her hand along the underside of a tit, or let his hand slid down her ass. He went as far as he could with socially acceptable seduction.