Lyssa clattered out of her car and self-conciously pulled her French Maid costume down over her ass. She wasn't used to wearing anything so skimpy in public, but it was Halloween. She walked up the driveway to her friend's house to the costume party, admiring the costumes of the other guests arriving at that moment also. A vampire, a few celebrity costumes, some frumpy witches.
As Lyssa walked through the door, the party stilled. Every head turned. Men's eyes danced over her body appreciatively. And no wonder: Lyssa was all of 5 feet, 10 inches, and built like the proverbial amazon, with mythical 40D-23-38 proportions. The French Maid costume was particularly striking on her of all people, given her creamy complexion, aristocratic facial structure, and long honey-blonde hair. What was most attractive about her was that she had no idea of how beautiful she really was. She had an aura of both innocence (being that she was a virgin) and flirtatiousness, a combination that drove men wild.
She stood in the doorway, in her short Maid's dress, with a wiry layer of tulle under her skirt that made it stand out all around, so if she moved the wrong way, someone would get a perfect view of her black satin-covered ass. The top of her costume was obviously built for a much smaller woman, and her abundant breasts nearly spilled out, creating enough cleavage to hide a small child in. She wore black thigh high stockings and stilleto heels which added to her already impressive height. Her hair was pulled up and topped with the white lace covering typical of a French Maid. Her ensemble was completed by the black ribbon tied around her neck and the feather duster she carried.
"Wow," whispered Jake, rushing up to her from the silent crowd. Lyssa knew Jake from the club scene, and they flirted lightly back and forth when they saw each other. She had a mad crush on him, but being the timid mouse she was, had never acted on it. Jake had come to the party as a vampire, just as she knew he would. His dark hair and fair skin coupled with his costume had a seductively sinister effect. He hugged her and took her by the arm, murmuring, "Let's get you a drink." She was led away from the room of admiring partygoers.
******
A couple of hours and several wine coolers later, Lyssa was feeling quite good. Men were swarming around her, offering to fetch her another drink, which she found ironic, seeing as *she* was supposed to be the French Maid. She wasn't sure how it happened, but one minute they were making inarticulate drunken small-talk, and the next minute, each of these men had taken to kissing or caressing her. A couple of them were nuzzling at her neck. Two more were licking at her wrists. A few more were rubbing at her waist or long legs, and she thought, though she wasn't positive, she felt one of the men humping his erection on one of her silken calves.
Lyssa's eyelids were heavy and she was in a half-dream state. She imagined she was some sort of Goddess, recieving the humble, worshipful affections of these poor brutes flanking her.
"Slut."
Her eyes snapped open. She was face to face with Jake. She looked into his scornful, laughing eyes.
"What did you say?"
He sneered. "You heard me." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the couch. "Pull your skirt down, you slut, and tuck your tit back in." She looked down, a little horrified to find that her skirt was up around her waist, and her left nipple had somehow flopped out of the top of her dress bodice.
Jake dragged Lyssa to the bathroom and shut and locked the door. He grinned at her.
"I was just kidding, you know. I know you're half drunk and don't know what you're doing."
She smiled, relieved. He was holding her up, steady against the bathroom wall. He leaned in on her. She could smell his man-scent, that musky testosterone-laced scent that drives any girl wild.
Jake kissed her roughly, tightening his grip on her shoulders. She gasped and returned his kiss, gyrating into him. He let his hand flutter over Lyssa's left breast, which was still hanging out of her dress, and lightly pinched the nipple. He slid his hand down between her legs and rubbed her through her thin silky panties. She went wild on him, moaning and grabbing at him frantically.
"Looks like maybe you are a little slut after all," Jake said, laughing a bit. Just then a voice called out from the hallway, "Hey Jake, we're moving this party down the street, to the City Cemetery."