The Party Favor

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue

Chapter Two

When the door opened, sound hit Jennifer in the face like a hot, damp towel. There was at once the noise of voices, yells, music and even the occasional scream. Smells were also in that noise-heavy air, the smell of food and other odors she couldn't identify right away.

They hadn't gotten ten feet before Susan Abernathy ran right in front of them laughing and screaming, topless, her breasts bouncing up and down as she was chased by a man with dark skin and blond hair. He had on only the male equivalent of a thong. The term "cock sock" burst in Jennifer's mind. Just as it registered in her brain that the cock in that sock had been ragingly erect, they were gone.

The entryway opened up on what looked like a formal dining room, with a long table piled high with food. Beyond that, and down three steps, was a huge living room that contained four couches and half a dozen love seats. There was a huge flat screen TV on one wall, that was playing what was obviously a pornographic movie.

But what captured Jennifer's attention were the women in the room ... women she knew ... women she saw at school functions, and awards dinners ... women she chatted with at the hair salon, or gym. There, across the room, was Blanch Howard, who was her own age and who had a daughter who was Tiffany's age. She was naked ... bare ass naked! And what was worse there were two men nursing her breasts like they were twin babies. One of them had his hand between her legs. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open in rapture. And off to the left was Janet Wharton, who was topless, like Susan had been, sitting on a naked man's lap, straddling him. Her skirt covered her lower half, but the way she was rising and falling made it clear she was having sex with the man.

Her eyes ranged across the room. Linda Abernathy was pressed against a wall by a big, black man, whose hands were up inside her shirt as he kissed her. Across the room she caught just a glimpse of LeAnne Jackson, stark naked, pulling an equally naked young man toward a hallway that had several doors along it. Bedrooms?

There were more, many more, and she knew almost all of them. Some were just sitting and talking to the men with them. Two were lying beside their "party favors" on the deep carpet, feeding each other tidbits from the spread on the table. Some of the women were still dressed, though most were in various stages of undress. None of the men had on more than shorts. A lot of them favored cock socks. At least half a dozen were stark naked. All of them she could see were erect.

She realized she was leaning against Josh, and his arm was around her. Her knees felt weak. How could they do this? How could all these women cheat on their husbands? It was insane! And how on earth had they kept it a secret all these years?

The answer to that came quickly. She realized that all of them were equally guilty. Josh had said some women didn't have sex, but to even be here, like she was, put the brand of slut on her. And if any of it came out, it would all come out, and every woman here would suffer for it. Nobody would tell, because everybody had the same exposure to harm if it ever got out. And she'd been hanging around these women long enough to know that if she just left, she'd be suspect ... especially if their little secret got out.

Which left her with the decision of what to do about it.

She wasn't interested in documenting the foibles of the women who, twenty-four hours ago she would have called her friends. But now she was quite sure she didn't know them well enough to classify them that way. That included Brandi, who Jennifer saw pouring drinks, her dress down around her waist while a hot young man who looked vaguely Latin stood behind her, cupping her breasts and playing with them. He was obviously grinding his cock into her butt. Jennifer looked away so that no eye contact could accidentally be made. In fact, she came to the conclusion she didn't want to meet anyone's eyes right now.

With the possible exception of Josh, whose hand lay negligently on her hip. She looked up at him, to find him looking at her, instead of the debauchery going on all around him.

"It's a lot to take in," he said, with a wan smile.

"You can say that again," she said. "I feel like I've entered a parallel universe."

"I'm used to it, I guess," he said. "Well ... not the orgiastic sort of thing going on here, but the atmosphere of estrogen and testosterone is familiar to me. I like dancing. I guess I like to tease, maybe. But this seems a bit much."

"Can I leave?" she asked.

"I wish you wouldn't." he said.

Suddenly, his arm around her felt hot ... possessive ... foreign. She pulled away from him.

"I won't have sex with you," she said.

"That's fine," he said. "That's not why I want you to stay."

"Why do you want me to stay?" she asked.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," he said. "You're an astonishingly beautiful woman. But you undoubtedly already know that. So I'll admit that's part of why I'd like to spend some time with you. But it's more than that. I'm used to women looking at me with a certain kind of look. I assume you've experienced men undressing you with their eyes?"

She nodded. "You did it when I got here," she said.

He grinned. "Guilty, as charged. You may punish me for that later, if you like. But my point is that women can do that to a man too. I'm used to that. I cultivate a look that invites women to look at me and lust after me. I try to fan those flames. And women react to me." He grinned again. "Except for a few ... like you."

"Me?" She looked at him askance. "Since you admitted to ogling me, I'll admit I looked you over too."

"Maybe, but you were circumspect about it ... polite, if you will. That's not the kind of woman I'm used to being around. I find you fascinating, and I'd love to spend some time with you, even if it's only chatting about things." He looked around. "Besides ... I think it would be politically advisable if you were seen going into some private place with me. These women need to see you as having the same ... weaknesses, shall we say ... as they have."

Jennifer was fully aware of the role of social politics in her world, and he was right about that. Since she was here, she needed to engineer it so that the others thought she was like-minded. If not, she'd have to watch her back like a hawk.

"I thought you came here for sex," said Jennifer.

"Mark is our unofficial leader, at least when it comes to these birthday parties. I guess he and Brandi go way back. That's him standing behind her over there at the table. Anyway, I gather she told him there was going to be a first-timer here tonight, and she was afraid this woman might freak out, or panic or something. She asked if any of the guys would be willing to baby-sit her if that happened. I guess none of them were, so he talked to me. He's asked me if I wanted to come in the past, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd be interested in. While I like to tease, I'm sort of a one woman man when it comes to relationships. On the other hand, I like a challenge, so I said I'd give it a whirl."

"So you're my keeper," she said.

"We are all our brother's and sister's keeper," he replied.

"I don't think any of those people out there are thinking of each other as brothers or sisters," said Jennifer.

"Oh," he sighed. "You have much to learn about your friends. You just wouldn't believe some of the scenarios I've heard about being acted out at these parties."

"You're right," she said. "I don't even want to hear them." She looked him up and down again before she realized she was doing it, followed by both chagrin and guilt that she had done so. To distract herself, she seized on something he'd said. "So how does your girlfriend manage to live with the fact that you show off to other women?"

"She doesn't," he said calmly. "I haven't found one yet who was willing to share me like that. At least not one I was really interested in myself."

"So you're not cheating on anybody to be here ... with me," she said.

"And you're not cheating on anybody with me." His smile was wide and beautiful. He held up a finger. "We don't want anybody else to know that, though, now do we? Might I suggest that you allow me to kiss you, quite publicly? And then you should drag me to one of those rooms down that hallway. I think there are also some upstairs. We can lock ourselves in a room for a while and talk, and then you can make a graceful exit, kissing me goodbye ardently on the stairs, or at the door, or by your car, or all three, and drive back to your normal life, guilty only of a little subterfuge and a few meaningless kisses."

"You have me kissing you an awful lot," she said.

He smiled. "I said I didn't come here for the sex, and that's true. On the other hand, a man would have to be insane not to try to get some token of a broader fantasy from a woman like you. You're hot, Jennifer. What can I say?"

Again she felt a flush of heat in her face and, surprisingly, in her belly as well. His compliments were so smoothly delivered that it would have been easy to think them glib, but the look in his eyes told her there was nothing thoughtless about his comments. He meant them. What surprised her was that she enjoyed them as well. She felt a twinge of guilt.

"I bet you make good tips," she said.

"I do okay," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose you want to kiss me now."

"Well, we're not exactly in the center of things," he said. "Not that I'm turning you down, if you just want to try one to see if you can stand it or something. Otherwise, I think we should go get something to eat, and take it with us upstairs. Who knows how long we'll be up there, and food and drink might make things a lot more pleasant."

"Good point," said Jennifer. "And while we're doing that, we'll be more visible."

"Exactly," he said.

"I don't know if I can pull this off," she said softly.

"Hang with me, kid. You'll be fine. And don't freak out if I touch you a little bit while we're pulling this off."

"Touch me?"

"Nothing too personal," he said. "I'll just make it look like we're having a good time."

"I know where your balls are," she said, darkly.

"I don't think you should touch them yet," he said, his face showing no hint that he was joking. "Maybe you could give them a little caress as you get in your car. Don't want to overdo it."

"Ha - ha," she said.

"What say we not joke about my balls. Let's get something to eat. I can't wait to kiss you."

They were halfway to the table, threading between two dancing couples, when his hand slid from the small of her back down to cup her right buttock. He gave it a little squeeze. She controlled her instinctive jerk, and realized that no man had done that to her since she was in college. She almost laughed, and slid her hand to squeeze his ass too, just because it felt good to be taking some kind of action.

They heaped food on plates. The spread looked delicious. At the end of the table, Brandi was still serving drinks. Her dress was gone now, and all she had on were thong panties. Her party favor's hand was inside the front of the panties and he was kissing her neck.

"You stayed!" said Brandi, her eyes bright. "I wasn't sure you would."

"How does one admit to being fascinated by something like this, without sounding ..." Jennifer paused.

"Like a slut?" Brandi finished for her. "Honey, I got over that feeling years ago. It's only once a year. I get more attention from an attentive man here in twelve hours than I get from my husband the rest of the year. If he paid me a quarter of the attention Mark does, I'd stop having these parties. It's the same with the rest of them. That's why I never invited you before. I thought you and Roger were doing better than the rest of us. I see now that's not the case, and I'm delighted to be able to offer you this brief, but needed interlude in your marriage."

"Thank you," said Jennifer. She jumped a little as Josh's hand came to touch her breast. He wasn't overt about it. He didn't cup it, but his thumb caressed the side in a way that was very familiar and intimate. She saw Brandi's eyes go there, and saw something like relief in the woman's eyes. Picking up on his cue, she added to the act. "We're going to go ... um ... explore the possibilities ... upstairs."

"Be sure to lock the door if you don't want tourists," said Brandi. She shuddered as Mark's hands found and twisted her nipples.

"Tourists?" Jennifer wondered what fingers on her own nipples like that might feel like. Roger was a wham, bam, not-even-thank-you-ma'am kind of lover. He seemed to ascribe to the fundamentalist view of sex as a necessary evil in married life.

"Open or unlocked doors are an invitation to watch," panted Brandi.

"Oh my," said Jennifer.

"I need to go," said Brandi. "I'll catch up to you later, maybe. I'm glad you decided to stay."

With that she turned around and jumped, wrapping her legs around Mark, who caught her buttocks with his hands and, while kissing her, headed for a nearby love seat. The hand disappeared from her breast, and she glanced at Josh, who gave her a smile. For the first time in her life, she understood the phrase "inscrutable Oriental face."

"Are you sure I'm safe with you?" she asked, remembering the feel of his hand on both her ass and breast.

"You're as safe as you want to be," he said firmly.

She stood for a few seconds, pondering that. He was making it obvious he was interested. That made that heat come back to her belly, but she recognized it for what it was. It was just the pleasure of being paid an honest compliment, naughty as it might be.

"Who should lead?" she asked, as she balanced her plate of food on one hand, and her full glass in the other.

"Definitely you," he said.

"Oh? Why?" she asked, curiously.

"So I can watch that fabulous ass climb the stairs," he said, quite honestly.

She found that honesty refreshing, and laughed.

"That's the girl," he said. "If you have to be here, you might as well try to have a little fun."

"I know what kind of fun you want me to have," she said.

"Guilty, as charged," he said, grinning again.

She didn't know whether it was the general atmosphere, or the fact that she'd gulped her champagne when Brandi had poured it, and then gotten a refill, but she felt a little giddy as she climbed the stairs. Part of that was knowing where Josh's eyes were. She was absolutely certain he was watching her ass cheeks rise and fall as she mounted the stairs. Then, feeling foolish, her self confidence fled. She looked over her shoulder and almost sobbed with relief as his eyes bounced from her bottom up to her face and he grinned.

A surge of naughtiness overcame her, and she stopped, bending forward so that her butt was sticking out. She watched as his eyes widened, but he was smooth as he leaned forward and kissed her skirt-clad cheek. She continued, exaggerating the swing of her hips.

"You're good at this," he said softly.

"I'm being foolish," she shot back.

"I wouldn't call it foolish," he said.

She didn't answer. She was too busy trying to figure out why she had done that. She had definitely not been thinking of it as part of their 'subterfuge' to fool the other women present. That indicated she'd done it for ... other reasons. The problem was there were no legitimate other reasons to do it for!

There was a delicate, slim, accent table on the second floor landing, where the banister met the wall. She set her plate and glass on it and turned to take his from him, adding them to hers. She turned to find him right there, eager to engage in this next step, which allegedly was part of the make-believe that was supposed to remove her as a perceived threat in the minds of the women. He scooped her into his arms, his lips coming to crush hers as his hands found her bottom again and lifted her a few inches off the floor.

She felt his erection plainly, pressing against her abdomen, and was shocked by it. When had that happened? Why had that happened? She had already told him she would not participate in this orgiastic behavior. One hand left her ass and swept up her back to her hair. His fingers slid into her long locks and his hand pressed her lips to his. She realized her arms were around his neck, and that she was pulling him toward her just as much as he was pulling her.

His tongue teased her teeth through barely open lips, and instinct caused her mouth to open. The kiss became a whirlwind of emotional response. She hadn't been kissed like this in years, maybe a decade or more! The memory of such kisses flooded her mind, and she writhed against his hard body. He had said "a few meaningless kisses," but this kiss felt anything but meaningless!

Then it was over, and he was standing back, gazing at her.

"That was very believable," he said, that quizzical smile on his face again. "I'll take the food. You say something that suggests you're in a hurry, and head that way." He tossed his head toward the hallway.

"Come on!" she yipped, her fingers reaching for the buttons on her blouse. She turned and ran into the hallway.

Josh picked up the plates, arranged them on one arm, recovered the two wine glasses, and sauntered down the hall after her..

Jennifer pushed down on the first door lever she came to, pushed the door open and rushed into the room. She stopped, frozen as she saw Debby Ralston, who was lying on top of one man, apparently impaled on him, while another man lunged into her buttocks from behind her, not quite doggy style. His penis could be seen sliding in and out of her rectum. Her flushed face turned toward Jennifer, and she cried out in obvious shame.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she moaned, her eyes seeking Jennifer's forgiveness.

The man behind her halted, question in his eyes.

"Don't stop, you idiot!" she screeched. "I was almost there!"

Josh cleared his throat behind Jennifer. "Come on, baby," he whined. "You can watch later."

The man taking her anally was going again, and Debby was again caught in the moment.

"I'm so sorry," she wailed.

Jennifer stumbled backwards, into the hallway and reached for the door.

"Leave it open," said Josh. "Shake it off. Let's try farther down the hall."

Working on the theory that exited and impatient women would stop at the first vacant room they came to, Josh directed her to a room at the end of the hallway. Jennifer winced as she opened the door and carefully peeked inside. The lights were off, so she turned them on, expecting someone to complain at any second. No one did, though, so she went in. It was an empty room.

She turned, suddenly scared, and watched Josh come in and bump the door closed with his hip. They were in a bedroom, nicely appointed, and there was a makeup table against one wall. He set the food and drink down there, and then went back to the door and locked it.

Jennifer stood, staring at him as if she were afraid he might suddenly take of his outer skin and prove to be an alien.

"You must have acted in plays or musicals or something," he said, casually. "That was a realistic kiss." He pulled the chair away from the makeup table and straddled it, leaning his front against the backrest.

His attitude was so normal, so non-threatening, that Jennifer relaxed, feeling foolish. He wasn't going to jump her ... rape her. He was a nice guy. He had done everything he said he'd do, and nothing he said he wouldn't.

"This is so strange," she said softly. He was sitting on the only chair in the room, and she perched on the edge of the bed. As she felt the mattress give, she realized he had chosen the chair intentionally, so that it wouldn't look like he wanted to use the bed.

"It's pretty clear you're not the kind of woman I'm used to being around," he said. His smile robbed the comment of any insult.

"I've never met a male dancer," she said. She frowned. "I've never met a female dancer either, for that matter."

"If you went to college, you did," he said. "You'd be surprised how many girls supplement their income in college by dancing."

"Maybe," said Jennifer. She looked around the room. She didn't know what to do, now that they were sequestered. "I'm sorry I made you kiss my ... um ... ass." She felt a little thrill as she used the word. It wasn't the kind of word she used in every day conversation. It was the kind of word Tiffany used in every day conversation, but that was something Jennifer didn't approve of.

"Oh, trust me," he said. "I didn't mind. And it was the perfect thing to do. I think stable, proper Jennifer has a teensy bit of vamp in her."

"I used to," she said, automatically. "I used to tease Roger relentlessly."

"Roger. He must be my competition," said Josh.

"He's my husband," she said, darting him a dark look.

"And let me guess. You had a child two or three years ago, and a bit of the shine has worn off of having a family."

"I had a child fifteen years ago," she snorted. "And the shine got ripped off when my daughter hit puberty."

"You can't possibly be that old. Oh, I get it," he said. "Your husband robbed the cradle and knocked you up when you were fourteen. Then he had to marry you, and somewhere along the line after that he struck it rich somehow."

She stared at him. "I'm almost thirty-five, thank you very much."

"You'll have to prove that to me," he said, negligently. "You got any ID?"

"You're playing with me," she said. "Why?"

"I'm not playing with you. I don't believe you have a fifteen-year-old daughter. You're obviously educated far beyond high school. Women like you don't have children until they think the time is right, which usually means when they are in their middle twenties. I figure you're maybe twenty-eight. Hence, this daughter you're talking about is less than five years old." He smiled, as if he expected her to gasp and ask him how he knew all that.

Her purse was in her car, locked in the trunk. There was a keypad on the door to let her in, so she didn't need to take anything inside when she went to ... parties. The only thing she had was the locket around her throat. The picture was three years old, but it would have to do. She reached for the pendant, manipulated the catch and opened it.

"Here," she said. "This was taken in the Catskills, three years ago. As you can clearly see, Tiffany is not a five year old."

He got up and came over. She saw his eyes flick to the locket and examine the picture, but then they slid off and went to her breasts. She looked down to see that, in leaning forward to show him the locket, her blouse had fallen away from her chest. The lavender bra she had on, lacy and thin, because it made her feel feminine, was plainly visible. Her hand automatically went to push the fabric against her chest. She felt her cheeks warm up.

"I'm shocked," he said, standing up.

"Why?" she asked.

"Are you sure that's your daughter?"

She stared at him. "I was there when she was born," she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"She just doesn't have your looks," he said. "That's all. She'll never turn men's heads like you do."

"You are so full of it," she said. Immediately she thought it odd she'd have turned that phrase. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used it.

He ignored her. "So Tiffany is fifteen. That still makes you nineteen when you had her. Don't tell me you're one of those whiz kids who started college at sixteen and finished with a masters three years later."

"Of course not," she said. "We weren't planning on Tiffany. It made it hard, but we got married. We both finished school."

"So why didn't you have more kids?" he asked. "If you were my wife I'd have kept you barefoot and pregnant until ..." He shrugged. "I guess you'd still be barefoot and pregnant."

"You sound so much like an American," she said, marvel in her voice. "But your looks don't go with it."

He put his hands together and bowed. "So solly, missy. I tly to sound mo like a chinaman. I tly leally hahd."

"I'm so sorry," she said, horrified. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm not racist."

"Of course you are," he said. "You just made reference to my ethnicity, which means you noticed my race. If you notice my race, you are by definition, racist."

"Hogwash!" she said vehemently. "Simply recognizing someone's race doesn't equate to racism. I don't think I'm any better than you, or that you're inferior. Both of those traits are inherent in real racism."

"Then why did you apologize?" he asked, smiling.

"I stereotyped you," she said. "That's not the same as being racist."

"You apologized for sounding racist."

"I apologized because I said something thoughtless!" she insisted. "What do you want me to do?"

"Kiss me again," he said. "It will prove you're not a racist."

She blinked. She couldn't tell if he was teasing her or not.

"I already kissed you ... out there," she said. "In front of all those people," she added.

"That was under duress. It meant nothing," he said, waving a hand at her. "That was merely your effort to pull the wool over your friends' eyes."

Jennifer remembered that kiss. It hadn't felt like it was under duress. And it certainly hadn't felt like it meant nothing. There was a twinge of conscience as she realized she'd enjoyed that kiss. Then she felt distinctly guilty that the idea of kissing him again wasn't in the least way repugnant. Suddenly she realized he had suggested it, even though she had insulted him.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said, slowly.

"What am I trying to do?" he asked.

"You're trying to seduce me."

"Oh good grief," he said. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?" she asked.

He snorted, as it to say a blind person could see his point. "I'm trying to get you to seduce me, of course," He rolled his eyes and said "Is that deep red your real hair color?"

She was still trying to make sense of his first statement, about her seducing him, but she got the "joke."

"I'm not blond," she said.

"Oh, believe me, I know that."

"What? How do you know?" She felt like she was losing control of the situation.

"Because a blond would have kissed me by now." He grinned.

He was impossible not to like. That's what it boiled down to. He was killer cute, intelligent, funny and a real gentleman, for the most part. It was no wonder she'd liked kissing him. She remembered the feel of him lifting her, and of his bulk against her abdomen.

"Do you have an erection right now?" she asked, impulsively.

He blinked. She took that as a sign that she'd surprised him and felt peculiarly proud of herself.

"Not exactly," he said, carefully.

"How can you not exactly have an erection?"

"I didn't have one, but as soon as you asked me if I did, it started perking up."

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'm not. I love having erections."

"What an odd thing to say."

"Not at all. Remember, I'm an exotic dancer. I have erections for a living."

"That just sounds so ... I don't know," She shrugged. "I can't believe I'm sitting here having a conversation with an exotic dancer about his erections. It's just bizarre!"

"Are you having a good time?" he asked.

"What?" She looked confused.

"Do you desperately wish you were somewhere else?" His face was calm.

"Well ... no. I guess I don't." She blinked. "How odd is that?"

"Thank you," he said. "I'm having fun hanging out with you, too."

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