Take Your Daughter To Work Day - Version Bravo
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The girls didn't sleep long. When Monica woke, the others soon followed. The chatter between them did not include, interestingly enough, what they'd done before they took their nap. Apparently it was one thing to do that in front of each other, and something else again to talk about it.
Judith went to her father and asked if he would pay for the girls to get their hair done at the hotel salon. After what had happened, it's no suprise he was amenable, and said, "Of course."
By the time they emerged from the salon, their energy levels were appropriately high. They'd gotten the whole works, which meant, basically, a glamour makeover. Everybody who saw them now thought they were a group of twenty-something girlfriends, on a girls' day out.
The excitement only built as they got dressed for the banquet. Interestingly, this was when Francine's intuition failed. The slinky, sexy underwear had, in fact, been fun to wear, but at this point there were different thought patterns going on than what she had anticipated.
"I wonder how this would look if I didn't wear a bra with it," mused Monica, holding the dress up against her body.
Of course once she slipped her dress on sans bra, and was critically examined by both her own eyes in the mirror, and the eyes of others directly, the owners of those other eyes had to try it too.
Astonishingly, it was sweet, innocent Tiffany who ran her finger along the panty line visible on the back of Judith's dress, and who said, "Too bad that shows so well."
"That's not a problem at all," said Janice, grinning. She promptly raised the skirt of her dress and shimmied out of her panties. "See?" she crowed, whirling.
Within a minute, all of that sexy underwear lay ignored on the floor.
And it was at this time that the sexual energy began building too.
That they weren't acting "normal" isn't really that hard to understand. In this situation, "normal" had a completely different definition than it had back at school and, to be honest, what it would be again, when they got back to their more familiar surroundings. No, this was more like a dream, where anything was possible. What had already happened proved that, so it wasn't odd that their imaginations ran a little wild as they prepared to see what the night would bring.
Sister Francine finally made an appearance, carrying a bag with her own banquet clothing in it. Nobody else was aware she'd decided to get dressed somewhere other than Brady's room because she was afraid she'd never get dressed at all if she stayed there. She was flushed and her hair was disheveled. She looked, to the girls, to have slept hard. To Bob she looked well fucked.
Bob was right, of course.
She hopped in the shower and, as was her habit, simply tied up her wet hair in a bun, high on her head. She just left it that way as she got into her own dress ... with bra and panties, of course.
She was so late getting started, and so busy with trying to do herself what professionals had done to the girls, that she failed to notice the excited points of nipples pushing through little black dresses.
At least until they all gathered to go downstairs with Bob.
He whistled, and six faces turned toward him, pleased.
"No man deserves to go to dinner with this many beautiful women on his arms," he sighed, his eyes ranging over the svelte forms of the black-clad women. "You're all beautiful."
"Thank you," said his daughter, beaming. "It's your money that helped make us beautiful. Thank you for that too."
It was then that Francine noticed Tiffany's excitement through her dress. Her eyes darted to the others. The excitement was plain through the thin black cloth of every dress in the room except hers.
"Haven't we forgotten something?" she asked, in her best nun voice.
"What?" came five innocent voices.
She cupped her breasts and gave them a little bounce upward, completely forgetting that Bob was there.
His gasp reminded her and she flushed bright red in embarrassment.
"We have to go!" said Janice, surging past everyone else for the door. "We'll be late, and then everybody will stare at us when we go in."
Francine wanted to stop them, and demand that they correct their wicked ways. But she was already embarrassed by what Bob had seen. And, as it turned out, Brady was waiting in the hall. The look on his face made her want to pull him into the room and tell the rest to go on. Once again, she wondered if she had some kind of psychosexual disease. Was she a nymphomaniac? But then she remembered that it only happened with Brady. By the time she took his arm, the girls had skipped on ahead.
They weren't late, but everyone stared at them anyway. Dressed alike, and all dolled up, everyone wondered who they were and why they were all with Bob Tanner. Then it turned out that the tables had to be rearranged, because the word hadn't gotten to the banquet staff that the head coach was going to have guests. All the people who had been slated to sit at his table had to be moved to other tables, and that created a quiet furor among the staff. In the end, an extra table was brought in and set next to his, so that at least the other VIPs were in the middle of the room with him, if not at his table.
Dinner was sumptuous and decadent, which has a way of creating sexual energy in the revelers. It has been that way for centuries, though few people think of a good meal as creating the desire to later mate. That may be because the members of modern society, at least in America, tend to overeat, which has the opposite effect. If you eat too much, all you want to do after that is lie down and sleep.
But this was a catered event, so the portions were modest. The fact of the matter was that eighty percent of the team would go somewhere after the banquet to get something else to eat.
But that left twenty percent to do what a good meal often sets folks up to do.
And the dancing after dinner finished it off, for lots of them ... including the girls.
Some of the dancers and a good number of Snooky's girls had hung around, specifically because they intended to make the money they'd been denied when the after game party failed to go down as advertised. In some cases, those girls had been invited to stay at the hotel, some staying in only one room, and others moving from one to another.
But those women had banked on their willingness to engage in bedroom sports to get them their invitations. They hadn't gone to the expense of creating an image, like the girls had.
So there was a steady stream of big, strong football players coming to Coach Tanner's table, asking for the honor of a dance with a pretty young girl.
And, because Bob still believed "What could happen?" was in force ... he let them have their fun.
The result was that BD Washington saw the same girl he'd fucked senseless in the showers. She was all dolled up this time, but he recognized her. And it was obvious she was at least twenty-one. In a fit of testosterone, went up to her and asked her to dance.
He was still huge, and still black as the ace of spades, but he wasn't so scary in an ill fitting suit. Not to mention he spoke gently and wasn't a raving maniac any more. And as excited as Janice was, when he appeared and she remembered that indescribable, wild ride - quite literally - that she'd had on this man's jutting cock, what should have warned her to say "No" hid in a corner of her mind and she stood up, smiling.
As he led her away, "Jo Jo" Nichols, a running back who came from Ohio State, came up to the table and fixed his eyes on Monica. Jo Jo was a corn fed Iowa boy, born and bred, and he somehow recognized in Monica the fact that she was from a rural area too, even gussied up as she was. Monica hadn't been raised on a farm, like Jo Jo was, but she recognized the type just from the way he talked. It was like a breath of air from home, and she stood up gladly to dance with him.
There was a lull then, until Randy Nakimura approached the table.
"I know you," said Judith, smiling at him. "You helped us in the locker room."
"Yeah," he said, smiling shyly. He looked at Kendi then and said, "Would you dance with me?"
Kendi looked at his oriental features, deciding he was cute, and said, "Will you behave yourself if I do?" He bowed. That simple, traditional bow would later get him laid.
Janice felt like a Barbie Doll in BD's embrace as they started dancing slowly to the languid music coming from the band.
"I owe you an apology," he said, softly to the top of her head.
"I agree," she said, looking up at his wide, thick-lipped face.
"I got a little carried away," he said.
"A little?" She giggled.
"I hope you're okay," he said.
"Well I'm no longer a virgin, if that's what you mean."
He stopped, frozen, and started down at her. "Seriously?" he gasped.
"No, you big lug," she laughed. "You might notice I didn't scream my head off."
"Actually, you screamed a lot," he said.
"That's because I was so happy," she said.
"Seriously?" he gawked again.
"Uh huh," she said, pushing her braless breasts against the front of his suit.
"Any chance you feel like being that happy again tonight?" he asked her carefully.
She looked up and, as she bumped her loins against him, said "Maaaybe."
She saw a sausage appear at his shoulder. It tapped him and she realized it was a finger. They turned sideways to find another huge black man standing there. He was perfectly bald and looked twice as wide as BD.
"This is Tank," said BD. "He and I are homies. Wha'chou want, Tank?"
"Can I dance with her too?" asked the huge man with the voice of a ten year old girl.
BD looked at Janice. "Tank and me share everything. He won't hurt you. You want to dance with him?"
Janice grinned. This wasn't scary at all, and she was having a lot of fun. "Sure," she said.
Tank, as it turned out, was not only gentle with his grip on Janice, but light on his feet too.
"So it's Tank, huh?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Theodore, actually," he said in that strange high pitched voice. "Theodore Busby. I'm a lineman. I knock people down. That's why they call me Tank."
"Why do they call him BD?" she asked.
"Cause he gots a big dick," said Tank, guilelessly. Tank thought he was dancing with a woman in her early twenties, which was the same age he was.
She giggled. "Really?"
"He'll show it to you if you want," said Tank. "But then he'll prolly want to fuck you."
Tank was used to talking to the usual type of girl BD hung out with. But to be honest, even if he'd have known exactly who Janice was, and how old she was, the only change in his comment might have been that he'd replace "fuck you" with "do it with you."
All this was affecting Janice's judgment which, of course, was already pretty seriously flawed.
"Do you have a big dick too, Tank?" she asked, teasing.
"Not as big as BD's," he said honestly.
Kendi whirled in Randy's arms. She'd already learned that, like her, he was third generation Japanese American, and that his family had come from the Osaka region. He was also from California, and had surfed, but was more into beach volleyball than the water. She accused him of being more into looking at girls in bikinis, and he smiled, but said nothing. The music swelled and he whirled her three times in a row. She'd never danced with anyone who danced like him.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Eighteen," she said, fudging by only two years.
"Do you have a bikini?" he asked.
"Not here, you goof," she said, grinning. "I'm not even wearing any underwear."
She froze at her unbelievable forwardness, and it overbalanced them both. He had to take a step to one side and catch her as she leaned against him. To her shame, his hand ended up holding one of her braless breasts through her dress. But he didn't let his hand linger. He pulled her back against this front, and put his hand low on her back.
"I can feel that you aren't," he commented carelessly.
"I'm so embarrassed," she said, pushing her face into his jacket.
"Don't be," he said, his lips pressed to the top of her head. "I'm not wearing any either."
Monica, like Kendi, had learned enough about Jo Jo to know that she liked him a lot too. He was polite and soft spoken, and his compliments refreshingly direct.
"You're pretty," he'd said right away. Later, after an exchange of information, during which she also lied about her age, he said "You're a good dancer too."
But then someone else, a man named "Ragball" for some obscure reason, cut in. She didn't like Ragball much. His hands were all over her and she'd finally had to push away from him and say she was thirsty, before walking away.
Bob sat as men came up to claim a dance with Judith and Tiffany. He examined his feelings about all this. He looked around to see all five girls dancing. He only knew Judith well, of course. And Tiffany a little bit. He squinted his eyes as he watched Janice dancing with Tank Busby, and BD Washington, who kept cutting in on each other. He saw a third man try to enter that fray, but a word from BD sent him elsewhere.
Then there was Kendi, dancing with Randy, who Bob had thought of as "harmless" when he'd first come to ask Kendi to dance. Now, though, his hands were firmly on her bubble butt, and she was making no attempt to brush those hands away.
He looked for Monica, and saw her push away from Ragball Zuckerman, one of the tight ends whose jersey had been pressed into service to cover the girls in the locker room. She didn't look happy. She started for the table, and another man stopped her.
The thing he thought was interesting was that he didn't feel any ownership in the happiness of those three girls. They seemed to be doing fine all by themselves. He knew it was Janice who'd gotten a pussy full of his spunk, but she hadn't seemed to be concerned about that. Nor had she flirted with him.
The music changed to a fast dance, and everyone started to gyrate. He looked at his daughter, who was now side by side with Tiffany as they danced with two men on the support staff. The girls were smiling, having a good time. He imagined those men's hands on his daughter's ass, and felt the anger deep inside. Then he looked at Tiffany and felt almost the same thing.
He didn't think that was odd. Tiffany was the only one he knew at all. And that was what made him nervous. He didn't know these girls at all, and yet they had sucked his dick, rubbed all over him, and in one case, fucked him.
The music ended and three of the five came back to the table. He was flanked by Judith and Tiffany again. Monica sat down, but didn't have the smile on her face that her friends did. They noticed.
"What's wrong?" asked Judith.
"I found a guy I really like, but someone else cut in on him."
"What's his name?" asked Bob.
"Jo Jo," she said.
"Good kid," said Bob. "Got him out of Ohio State. I only played him in the last three minutes and he moved the ball forty yards. He's gonna get a lot more play next year."
"We have a lot in common," said Monica.
"So ask him to dance," said Bob.
"I can't do that!" she gasped, horrified.
"It's a different world," said Bob. "Just thinking about this afternoon should tell you that." He smiled as she blushed.
"It really was an accident," she said.
"Not saying it wasn't," said Bob. "The point is that if you want to dance with him, then ask him to dance."
"Okay, I will!" she said, getting up. She moved off through the throng as the music started again.
"You should dance with Tiffany," said Judith to her father.
"I should, huh?"
"She's got a crush on you," said Judith.
He grinned. "What was your first clue?" he asked.
"We all have a crush on you, sort of," she said.
"I can't take care of five girls," he said. "And you know I shouldn't even try."
She batted her eyes at him. "I don't want you to try to take care of five girls. I just want you to take care of me."
"Get a room, you two," said Tiffany. She stood up. "Dance with me, Bob." She leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I'm not wearing any underwear."
About a minute later, Bob's fingers explored her body.
"You little scamp," he said into her ear.
"I'm so glad we came here," she said into his chest. "I'll never forget this weekend as long as I live."
"I'm glad," he said. "I just hope nobody else finds out about it, because they won't ever forget it either."
Monica walked up to Jo Jo, who was dancing with a woman who made Monica's blood boil. She was a dyed blond, which was clear by looking at her roots. She had on a dress that showed off everything she had, and gave access to it as well. She had "tramp" stamped all over her. Monica tapped the woman on the shoulder.
"Pardon me, but you're dancing with my date," she said.
The woman stepped back and looked at Jo Jo. "I thought you said you were alone," she accused.
"Sorry," said Jo Jo, who didn't bat an eye. "I just wanted to find out what it was like to dance with a high priced call girl."
"Asshole," said the woman, and she stalked off in search of another John.
"So now I'm your date," said Jo Jo, as he took Monica back into his arms.
"Yup," she said, melting against him. "And if anybody tries to cut in, tell them to get lost."
"Wow," he said, pulling her against him. "I sure would like to kiss you right now."
"Well then ... why don't you?" she asked, looking up at him.
He did. Then he did it again. Then he asked her if she might want to kiss him in his room.
She said she did.
Kendi couldn't believe how she was feeling. Her parents had tried again and again to get her to date "nice Japanese boys" and she had resisted vociferously. All the guys she wanted to be around were blond, tanned beach bums, surfer boys who appreciated her for her skill on a board, and also because she was a girl. It was two of them, in fact, who she had "slept" with. Both had been during the last week of summer, before she had to head back to St. Clementine's. Neither had been worth remembering.
Now, though, here with this very "nice Japanese boy," she felt a hunger in her loins that almost scared her. She blamed that on all the playing she'd gotten to do with Mr. Tanner. She would later tell Janice it was all her fault too. And still later she'd ask Janice to be her maid of honor.
Feeling his hands on her ass was crazy, both because of how good it felt, and because they both knew he shouldn't be doing that. But it wasn't until he squeezed her buns that she actually said something.
"You know you shouldn't be doing that," she murmured into his jacket.
"I can think of five or six other things I'd like to do with you that I shouldn't do either," he said.
"You're terrible!" she sighed.
"I am," he admitted.
"You know, as well matched as we are, my parents will suggest I marry you," she said, joking around.
"I couldn't commit to something that serious unless I knew we were compatible," he said.
She pushed back. "We are compatible!"
"Socially, yes," he said, his face inscrutable. "But there is much more to marriage than meets the public eye."
He could see by her face that she understood what he was referring too. He wanted to smile, to lessen the tension, but she looked him up and down in a way that almost shocked him. He wasn't used to Japanese girls being this forward, not even ones born in America.
"Yes," she said, as if reflecting on something. "You're right. You might not be pleasing to me without your clothes. You might not be able to satisfy me."
She was bluffing in spades, merely having fun. The thrill of speaking in such a forward, naughty way was something she had never had the courage to do before. She hoped he wouldn't just walk away. She would be crushed if he did that.
"Then perhaps we should go back to my room so you can make an assessment," he said, his face still calm and controlled.
"All right," she said, thinking he was bluffing back. She kept waiting for him to break into laughter.
Instead, he held his hand out to her.
Janice was having the time of her life. BD and Tank were a riot. It was obvious that both of them were falling all over themselves to impress her. And yet there was no competition between them for her favor. She felt special, because a number of other men had accused BD of "hogging a good one" and in every case he had suggested that, if the suitor could produce a dick bigger than his, he'd be happy to give her up. Nobody had tried that.
It wasn't that he was crude. Far from it, in fact. She could scarcely believe it was the same man who had fucked her like a rag doll under the driving water only twenty-four hours before. Now he was polite, for the most part, and funny and seriously dedicated to showing her a good time.
Whether they danced fast or slow, it was also obvious that both men were putty in her hands. It was making her horny. The only question in her mind was whether she should try handling both of them. It was obvious to her that if she went with one, the other would be there too. And she'd never even thought about doing two men at once. She knew she could handle BD. She already had. But two of them?
Still, as rough as BD had been with her in the shower room, he was sweet and polite now. And Tank was just a sweetheart.
"Do you have any booze in your room?" she asked BD as the dance ended.
"Yeah, but I don't drink," he said.
"Nope. Our bodies are temples," said the big man.
"Would you think badly of me if I wanted a drink?"
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked.
"Because I have a feeling if you fed me a couple of drinks, I might get horny enough to take my clothes off," she said, boldly.
His eyes glittered.
"You tempt me. But it wouldn't be fair to Tank."
"Who said Tank couldn't come?" she asked, innocently.
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