Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“Come on, Lana, it’ll be fun!” Jamie said excitedly to her roommate.
“Fun?” Lana shot back, stabbing out her cigarette in the ashtray next to the open window. “That’s what you said about that ski trip to the Poconos where I broke my arm, the skydiving thing where my parachute almost didn’t open, the mountain climbing trip where I fell off that rock and damn near broke my leg, and that trip to New York City to see Phantom where we got mugged, and lost our money, ID, and train tickets home.”
“This is just a trip to Pittsburgh to go clubbing.” Jamie rolled her eyes. “There’s no danger involved. “Come on, Lana! You’ll have a good time, and you might even meet somebody.” Jamie said excitedly to her roommate.
“Sure.” Lana rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Besides, even if we did go, I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ll find something for you.” Jamie hopped up, and began digging through the large walk-in closet that they shared in their dorm room.
Lana stepped into the closet, glaring at her roommate, and watching her sort through her wardrobe.
“What?” Jamie turned around, mindful of the look on Lana’s face.
Lana rolled her eyes, wordlessly gesturing to Jamie’s outfit, which consisted of knee high black boots, fishnet stockings, a black micro-mini skirt, and a black and wine colored bustier so low-cut that you could almost see her nipples every time she took a deep breath.
“What?” Jamie asked again, going back to her digging.
“I’m not leaving this room in clothes that make me look like Bambi the wonder slut.” She growled, indicating Jamie’s outfit with a wave of her hand.
“Which wouldn’t matter, because you’re such a prude, you don’t even own any low cut shirts, or short skirts.” Jamie shot back. “I swear, if you weren’t on the track team, you wouldn’t even wear short shorts.
“Just because I don’t want to look like a cheap hooker when I go out does not make me a prude.” Lana shot back.
AH-HA! Knew you had it in here somewhere.” Jamie emerged holding a long white Victorian-style gown. Pure white, with a decorated overbust corset, long flowing sleeves, and a large hoop skirt. “Put this on, and I’ll help you with your make-up.
“You sure?” Lana asked nervously. “I mean, I made that as a Halloween costume last year, and haven’t worn it since.
“Trust me,” Jamie smiled.
“You sure about this?” Lana asked Jamie nervously, for the tenth time.
“That outfit’s perfect. You’ll fit right in.” Jamie parked the van, dug through her purse for her makeup, and touched up her eyeliner. “Besides, you haven’t even been trying to meet anyone since your last breakup with Bill. That was what, six, seven months ago?”
“Eight.” Lana rolled her eyes, and lit a cigarette. “I carry 18 credits, and a full athletic scholarship, which means, unlike SOME people, I have to make grades every semester, and I work. There’s no time to meet anyone. The hell’s that got to do with anything anyway?”
“I’m just sayin’. Find some guy tonight, get laid, release all that tension.” Jamie finished with her makeup, and continued to rifle through her purse. “I know I plan to.”
“Just what I always dreamed of. A cheap one-nighter with some guy I meet in some club.” Lana shot back sarcastically.
“God, you are such a fucking Virgin Mary!” Jamie rolled her eyes.
“Why? Because I don’t sleep with every random guy who’s even a little bit cute? Because I don’t spend an hour deciding which hole I want to be fucked in tonight while I’m getting ready for a date? Because my fantasy is a little tamer than getting fucked by three guys at the same time?” Lana shot back, now starting to get angry at Jamie for her attitude, and for dragging her out here.
“No, it’s because you don’t sleep with anyone at all. Ever. I know you wouldn’t let Bill do anything more than feel you up, and you cut him off every time he tried to get so much as a hand into your pants. We’re not in junior high anymore, Lana. That Virgin Mary bullshit isn’t cute anymore. If you want to meet a guy, you need to take the ice-pop out of your dry, tight, frigid little cunt, and spread your legs a little.”
“Anyway who am I going to meet dressed like this? A Victorian gown with a corset, a hoop skirt you can use as a damn tent, and these long heavy sleeves, all in virgin bridal white? And with this makeup? I mean, I made this for a Halloween party two years ago, which is also the last time I wore it. I have a hard time sitting down in this thing, and I can’t even imagine some guy trying to remove it. It was fine when I wanted to look like a dead Victorian bride, but for a club?”
“Trust me, at this place, nobody will look twice. Besides, that’s a great outfit for you. It shows off your boobs, hides those skinny little chicken legs of yours, and your long red hair sets everything off perfectly.” Jamie grinned confidently, fighting the urge to snap back.
“Well,” Lana shot back “if nobody’s gonna look twice, how are you gonna get me laid?”
“Just fuckin’ trust me. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Cebeci Escort So what I look like an Irish Banshee, or a bride about to commit suicide by jumping off a cliff into the ocean.” Lana shot back.
Jaime wrenched open the van door, and stepped out. “You need a hand there?”
Lana opened the van door, and tried to gently set herself down without getting her skirt caught in the door, or on the car parked next to them. After a few minutes of careful work, she guided the huge skirt between the two vehicles, and they were off to the club.
“This is the place.” Jamie said, as Lana watched small groups of heavily made-up of men and women in corsets, fishnet, PVC, leather, cloaks, black T-shirts, skirts, and a large assortment of piercings, and heavy metal jewelry, including spiked bracelets, studded dog collars, and chains approach the door in groups, and wander in.
Jamie opened the door, and Lana was shocked to be greeted by silence. It was a long hallway, lined with carpet, with one man sitting on a stool at the far end.
“You sure this is the place?” Lana asked nervously. “Thought it’d be louder.”
“Soundproof hallway.” Jaime whispered. “Lot of clubs have ’em in the entrance.”
The man at the door, a large man in a black T-shirt and studded collar, with multiple piercings in his ears, nose, and lip, checked their ID’s, stamped their hands, and pointed to a door down the hall.
Jamie yanked open the door and, as they made their way down the small flight of stairs, they were greeted by a woman’s loud, high, wailing shriek, and when the shrieking stopped, a second of dead silence. Then the drumbeat, guitars and keyboards picked up, and the band on stage launched into another song without so much as a pause for water.
“COME ON, LET’S GET A DRINK, AND HIT THE DANCE FLOOR!” Jamie shouted to Lana over the music.
“OK!” Lana shouted back, and they worked their way to the bar. Jamie, only having to slip and slide through gaps in the crowd, got there quickly, but Lana, who had to be mindful of her massive hoop skirt, which elicited a few stares, and several compliments from people who saw it, and had to shout to be heard by others over the music, took a long time to negotiate the crowd, and work her way to the bar. They ordered their drinks, and Jamie guided Lana to a little table just off the dance floor. They finished their drinks, and decided to head out to the dance floor. Jamie fit in at this club like a natural, Lana thought, watching her friend move through the crowd on the dance floor like she owned it, greeting a random person here or there with a hug, or some variation of a salute, handshake, or gesture, depending on who she saw. Lana, still struggling to move through the crowd with her skirt, was enjoying the music, and for what little she could dance in the corset and skirt, when the crush of people gave her enough room to do so, was having an OK time on the dance floor, and did quite enjoy the several compliments from men, women, and occasionally, a person who was so androgynous looking that she couldn’t tell. But after a few songs, she grew tired of bumping into people, and frustrated with the effort of trying to move around the dance floor in her skirt, and tight corset that made it hard to breathe, and slipped off the dance floor, back to the table she was sitting at with Jamie earlier.
She sat down, and surveyed the dance floor, watching the people, and trying in vain to order another drink when a waitress came by. She dug into her purse, eventually coming up with her cigarettes and lighter, lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. She gazed out over the dance floor. Jamie was nowhere in sight. Typical, she thought, taking another drag on her cigarette, in an attempt to calm down.
As her eyes wandered over the crowd, she noticed a guy, or was it a girl, coming off the dance floor, moving through the crowd as smoothly as Jamie did, despite the fact that he was limping heavily, moving as if he was afraid to put much weight on his right leg. He made his way to her table, which happened to be the one closest to the dance floor, and collapsed into the chair across from her. From close up, it was clear, that in spite of the make-up, skirt, and long hair, it was definitely a guy. Normally, she would have said something about his just presuming he could sit down there, but from the serious limp, and the look in his green eyes, he was in a lot of pain, and she wasn’t about to make him get up and drag himself to another table. Besides, he was kind of cute. About five feet, eight inches tall, and skinny, with long stringy black hair, white face make-up, wearing a pair of eyeglasses with black frames, heavy black eyeliner, lipstick, and nail polish, wearing a black fishnet shirt which showed off his otherwise bare chest, bound at the wrists and neck with spiked bracelets, a spiked collar, a belt that hung with various rings, metal, and pouches, a floor length black skirt, and a pair of steel toed combat boots.
He Kolej Escort wasn’t bad looking, and unlike some of the people she saw, didn’t have anything in the way of facial piercings or tattoos, and if he did, he certainly didn’t look as downright scary as some of the people she had seen that night, but it didn’t seem like he had noticed her yet, if he noticed the table was occupied at all. He waved a waitress over, then stretched his leg out, grabbing the knee with both hands, and massaging it as best he could. When she returned with the drink, which she noted was something gold-colored on ice, dug into one of the pouches on his belt, popped out a bottle of Advil, popped a couple in his mouth, drank half the drink down in one shot, slapped it back on the table, shook his head, and looked up.
“Hi!” He leaned over the table to make himself heard. “Mind if I sit here a minute?”
“Go ahead. Saw you limping your way off the dance floor. You OK?” Lana asked.
“Once the Advil kicks in, I’ll be fine. Just my damn knee, giving me hell as usual. Should be used to this shit by now.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Lana asked.
“Ah, hurt it when I was a kid. Had to have surgery. It’s mostly OK, but if I push it too hard, it hurts like hell.” He sipped on his drink. “Hey, can I get you something?”
“Jack and Coke, if you can find a waitress.” Within seconds, he flagged down the waitress who had been ignoring her since she sat down, ordered the drink, and the waitress returned almost as quickly.
“She’s been ignoring me since I sat down. How’d you get her to move like that?” Lana asked, half confused, half angry.
He tapped his injured leg. “My friends and I come here a lot. I have this knee, and one of my friends is in a wheelchair. If we’re flagging down a waitress, it’s usually ’cause we can’t get up and go to the bar.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Your friends here tonight?”
“Yeah. We all came down here together. They’re around here someplace.”
“How do you find each other at closing time?” She asked, again scanning the throng of people for Jamie.
“We always park on the fourth floor of that parking garage a block from here. And we all have cell phones.”
“Ah.” Lana thought of her own phone, in her purse, and felt more re-assured. “By the way, I don’t think I got your name.”
“Hi. I’m Lana.”
“Love the dress. Where’d you find it?” he asked.
“Made it myself.”
“Wow. Must’ve taken a lot of time. I mean, the detailing on the corset looks like it took a week by itself. And that hoop skirt’s so big, you could hide a whole other person under there.”
Lana laughed. “It’s a big skirt, but I don’t think it’s THAT big.”
“Twenty bucks says I can fit under that skirt, and nobody notices I’m there.” Tony grinned.
“I’ll take the bet, if you’ve got a way to prove it.” She grinned back.
He glanced over towards the stairs leading to the entrance door. “Damn, the normal club test won’t work here.”
“Usually, when you do something like this, it’s with a cloak, trench coat or costume, to sneak someone in without having to pay the cover.” Tony laughed. “To do that, we’d leave, you’d hide me, and we’d come back and see if the bouncers caught on. But we can’t do that here because of the stairs.”
“You’ve done this before?” Lana asked.
“Nah. Every once in a while you see someone here who’s clearly underage, or without a hand stamp or bracelet, and most of ’em have a story or two.” Tony looked around the club, not letting his eyes fall any one place, trying to get an idea. A worried look crossed Lana’s face, as she began scanning the club for Jamie again, more franticly than before. She dug through her bag, hunted up her cell phone, and called Jamie. It rang five times, then went to Jamie’s voicemail.
“Shit!” Lana slapped the phone shut angrily.
“Something wrong?” Tony asked.
“Yeah. I have to pee like a racehorse, but I need another pair of hands to help me with this skirt, and Jamie’s not answering her phone.” Lana growled.
“You can’t deal with your skirt by yourself?” Tony asked, confused.
“There’s three buttons in the back that secure this thing at the waist. In this corset, I can get the skirt off OK, but putting it back on takes a second pair of hands, and if I don’t do it right, it’s sliding off my hips all night.”
“I think we’ve just solved how to decide our bet, and solve your problem, if you’re game.” Tony stood up, and began bending his knee, and putting weight on it to test it.
Tony pointed to a table on the opposite side of the room. It was a long, empty table, the club used when doing promotions or giving away free stuff, covered with a large black tablecloth that hung almost to the floor, and pushed into a back corner, near the wall.
“We go over to that table, I drop something, and go under the table to retrieve it. You go behind the table, to see if it fell back there, I sneak under your skirt. You sneak Yenimahalle Escort me into the ladies’ room, I can help you with your skirt, and you cover me and sneak me out again. We’ll see if anyone notices.”
“If it gets me into and out of the bathroom without this skirt falling off in public, I’m willing to try it.” Lana said nervously.
They made their way through the tables, chairs and people, over to the empty promotions table, and Tony, who had been fidgeting with the cap on his Advil bottle throughout the conversation, capped the bottle, and let it roll to the floor. When he got on his knees to pick it up, Lana went behind the table, covering him with the skirt. Tony pulled the skirt down over him from within, leveling it with the floor, and, moving slowly, as Lana had all night to make sure her skirt didn’t catch on anything, or bump anyone, made their way to the relatively empty area around the outside of the dance floor, and to the door at the back of the club that led to the restrooms.
Pushing the restroom door open, Lana was relieved to see that, though the restroom was filled with women at the sinks, gossiping and fixing their makeup, and more in the closed stalls, the individual stalls looked like showers rather than restroom stalls, each stall painted black, with walls that went all the way down to the floor, and a thick velvet curtain to close the stall rather than a door. She took one of the larger stalls, which had the advantage of being at the far end, yanked the curtain shut, and let Tony out from under her skirt.
As silently as he could in his boots, he slipped around behind her, and undid the buttons securing the skirt around her waist. She pulled at the waist of the skirt, tugging it down over her hips, and letting it slide to the floor. As she and Tony slipped by each other, to allow her to get to the toilet, he noticed that she was wearing white pantyhose, white panties, and white platform boots, which made her about an inch taller than him. Still able to hear voices and the sounds of movement from the outside, he bit his tongue, rather than risk being caught because he made a comment about the dead virgin bride motif to her outfit. As she slid her panties down off her hips, he caught enough of a glimpse before she sat down to know that she didn’t shave her pussy, and that she was a natural redhead. This whole adventure was getting him very turned on, and part of him just wanted to bend her over and fuck her right then and there, and damn who saw or heard. He kept his spot against the far wall, and she sat down on the low bowl, which put the very noticeable bulge of the now hard cock in his skirt just below Lana’s eye level, where, in the tight confines of the stall, she couldn’t help but notice. It was a decent sized bulge, she noted. Maybe not the biggest she ever seen, but nowhere near as small as her last boyfriend had been. Seeing how turned on he was started to get her horny as well, and she had to resist the urge to tug on the very noticeable bulge of his cock, knowing where that would lead. The thought of him having to get back under her skirt to get out of this room started her mind spinning as to how she could take advantage of the situation, as she felt the heat and wetness start to build between her legs.
She finished, and with a fair amount of tugging and struggling, they managed, between the two of them, to get the skirt back into place and securely fastened. Then Tony slid back under it, and they made their way, slowly, out of the restroom and back out to the club. Even with the small steps Lana was taking, so not to kick Tony in the back, she could feel her pantyhose start to twist, and ride uncomfortably up her ass as she walked. Coupled with the thought of Tony tearing off her clothes, and licking her until she screamed making the heat and wetness between her thighs more pleasant and unbearable at the same time, she had an idea. She walked behind the empty promotions table, and leaned against the wall. The first band had stopped playing, and the second band was setting up their equipment, and starting their sound checks. It was still pretty loud, with the occasional drum solo, synth chord, or guitar riff interrupting the buzz of conversation, but it was quiet enough, and the spot was isolated enough that Lana felt safe talking to Tony.
“Tony.” She stage-whispered.
“Yeah?” he stage whispered back.
“Before you get out from under there, I need you to do something for me. I didn’t really have a chance to get everything on straight, and now my pantyhose and underwear are riding up my ass when I walk. Can you see if you can fix ’em for me?”
“Sure. I’m gonna need to slip out to get turned around though.” Tony struggled for a moment, but between the skirt and the table, was able to get himself turned around, and back under Lana’s skirt. He reached around her waist, attempting to twist and turn her pantyhose back into place. As Tony struggled with the pantyhose, each breath he took was like a hot breeze, causing Lana’s already wet pussy to tingle with anticipation every time he exhaled. She could feel her juices soaking the crotch of her panties, and was sure that he could see, smell, and almost taste her arousal from his vantage point. Only the uncomfortable feeling of her underwear still riding up her ass, kept her from having a gushing orgasm right then and there.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32