I'm dressed to the nines. Black lace-up heels, my short, flowing black dress which displays my long, shapely legs below and makes a warm, tantalizing shelf of my tits above. My hair is loose and parted to the side, a delicate chain hanging loosely from my neck accentuating my chest, the line of my collarbones tracing the way to my bare shoulders. I come down the stairs, admittedly a little shyly, to find you and the boys waiting with anticipation. Every man in the room is just as dressed up, with clean shirts, ties, dress shoes and slacks, freshly groomed and preened. All for me.
There are whistles of appreciation as I reach the landing, and you approach me with a grin, pulling me in to you by my hips. "Well, you look ready!" I match your grin, a little nervously, and nod. "As much as I can be, I think." I look around to the faces of these other men, good friends and occasional lovers, every one. "Are we ready to have fun?" I ask. They each wear their own unique expression of anticipation, affection, and a hint of lust. I won't lie, even with this kind of reception, my adrenaline is running high. "Relax," you say, "We're going to have a great time tonight. This is all about you, Lover." The focus of the room on me makes me squirm a little in my heels, but also awakens the warm, excited gratitude for this experience coming together.
We step into the late-summer night and pile into the car, and I'm steered into the middle back seat, with you to one side of me, and D on the other. The sun is going down as J slides into the front passenger seat, and M starts the car, pulling us out onto the darkening road. Your hand rests on my thigh, a finger or two gently tracing paths up and down that sensitive run of skin towards the inside. D's arm wraps casually around my shoulders, and as the conversation and joking rises through the drive, I feel his fingers begin to trace patterns as well. My heart is still pounding hard, but I join in the laughter and joking. I realize in a sudden moment that J has turned in his seat, eyeing me with suppressed hunger in his face. He reaches down and lifts my ankles up over the shoulder rest between the two seats. New fingers trace new designs into my calf.
We get to the restaurant in time for the reservation, and I am escorted in by this motley pack of men. M pulls my chair out in a gentlemanly fashion, and the jovial tone continues through the menu reading and ordering. Time rolls by, and the food, the wine, the company could not be better. We share stories of remember-whens and did-I-ever-tell-you's, and at some point I realize my wine glass has never been empty, despite my diligence in bringing it to my lips. My nerves have eased and the room swims slightly, the smiles and laughter and affectionate looks and comments of these lovely men doing backstrokes along my spine. The comfort and relaxation is irresistible.
Dessert is considered, but then waved off by all in unspoken consensus. It doesn't seem to be what anyone's hungering for "I think it's time to get going, eh?" you say a little more quietly. Even through the wine haze, that brings the electric adrenaline back. The others grin subtly and nod agreement. Coats are collected, and I'm escorted back out to the street, a man on each arm, feeling like a billion dollars. I try to head towards the car, but instead the arms I'm attached to turn me down the street. "Ohhh no," says M, "Not yet. Not quite yet." He grins broadly. I acquiesce to being led down the lamp-lit road with evening traffic rolling by beside us. The joviality continues, but there's a slight edge to it now...
Several blocks later, M turns left down an alley. Moments later, I'm steered by the other three into the same dark tunnel between the tall buildings. J and D leave me with you by the first dumpster we encounter, and continue to walk further into the blackness. You ignore me momentarily, bringing a spliff out of a case in your coat, bringing it to your mouth and lighting it, the brief flame illuminating the features of your handsome face, curled mane and beard momentarily. You breathe in deeply, wrap your arm around my waist, and pull me in for a deep kiss. Well-trained, I readily breathe in the musky smoke you empty into my mouth, and the nicotine and weed land like a warm bath. I feel numb and enraptured as you hold the spliff up to my lips, and I obediently take a drag. "How are we doing, babygirl?" you growl quietly.
"So good," I moan. "I'm having so much fun!"
"Any going back?"
