A Weeend Away

"Let's go dancing tonight," she proposed. It wasn't often that she asked since he usually didn't like going out to clubs. Too many people crammed into a tight space, crappy music played at a deafening level and exorbitant drink prices did not an amusing evening make.

But since she didn't ask very often, when she did ask, he usually said yes. Plus, they were spending the weekend in Savannah and downtown always had diversions galore to offer.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Club One," she queried with a sly look.

He raised one eyebrow. "I don't want to go to the gay club." Really, that suggestion didn't even warrant a reply, but he wanted to be clear. Some of the transvestites he'd seen coming out of that place were downright creepy.

She laughed, knowing that he would shoot down that idea. "We can just hit River Street and see what's happening. Go get dressed."

Apparently that meant his jeans and blue t-shirt weren't good enough for her plans this evening. He was digging in his suitcase for the one pair of khakis she'd badgered him into bringing when she came in from the hotel suite's living area. He wasn't paying attention to her at first, dragging clothing out of his bag and shaking his pants a couple times. But he could feel her gaze hot on his skin.

She was watching him as she slowly undressed. One hand slid down the front of her shirt, slipping free buttons as it went. Shrugging out of it, she tossed the shirt on the bed and reached back, still with one hand, to unclasp her bra. It was flung onto the bed as well. Her nipples were already hard and red and he wanted to bite them. And she damn well knew it.

When it came time to remove her pants, she turned around and slid both hands down her own ass inside the cloth. He loved her ass, the curvy, smooth white skin that just begged for a good smack every once in a while. She played him, played him like a fucking virtuoso, bending at the waist so her hair flipped to the floor while from between her own sweet thighs she watched him watch her pull that fabric down maddeningly slow.

Hell, they didn't need to go anywhere but the bed. Or the floor. Or the wall. Certainly not out into public. But he didn't even get one full step in her direction before she tsked him and stepped out of pile of pants at her ankles.

"Not yet," she warned, "we're going out first."

Fucking tease. He hated it and loved it and wanted to slam her chest-first into the wall and fuck her until she came right there, right then, just to prove that she wasn't always in control. But the buildup was incredible; she would play this beguiling game all night and though he hated to admit it, once she finally gave in, the sex would be ten times better than if they did anything now. His cock would throb at varying stages of erection all night long and when he finally made her come, she'd scream herself hoarse.

Someone might even call the police out of concern for her.

Naked, she strode by him toward the dressing area. One fingernail unerringly scratched against both his nipples under the shirt as she passed, bringing his dick to full alert.

He changed quickly into a pre-approved outfit of pants and some shirt she had convinced him to buy weeks ago. Whatever.

He watched her get ready. Still nude, she dusted her shoulders and chest with some kind of powder that made her sparkle just the tiniest bit with a hint of tan. He noticed her makeup was put on with a heavier hand than usual. He liked the way her dark eyes went smoky when she lined them with thick, black color. She left her hair alone to fall straight down her back.

"Will you help me get dressed?" she asked.

He'd prefer to help her undress. Why did she need help anyway?

"Sure."

From her suitcase she pulled out a pair of slinky, skin-tight black pants and wiggled into them. Okay, no assistance necessary there. He did notice that she slid the pants on without any panties. Good to keep in mind for later. He could probably make her come on the dance floor before she even realized his hand was in her pants.

Then he saw the corset. It was dark bronze, edged in thin black lace. Down the back ran a zigzag of black ribbon. She dropped the corset over her head, then bent over and sank a hand into the cups of the corset. She plumped up one, then the second breast so they almost spilled out of the top. With one hand pressing the corset into place on her stomach, she turned her back to him.

"I need you to cinch it up, then tie it when I tell you it's tight enough."

He pulled gently on the ties where they fell out of the corset at the small of her back.

"Tighter," she commanded, sounding pretty damn sure of herself.

He started at the top and pulled taut every third crossing or so. The corset sucked in closer and closer to her ribcage. It was already more than snug, how tight did she want it?

"Keep going," she urged, taking a breath then forcing it all out. The top drew in closer. He tugged a couple more times on the ribbon to be sure he couldn't get it much tighter without cutting off her circulation, inhalation and possibly her heartbeat itself, then tied a non-slip knot just on top of her ass.

"Thanks." She turned around and holy shit. Any other day her breasts were great, not huge, not tiny, a handful of soft flesh to play in. Now, with the corset cutting even more definition into her waist, her breasts just sat in the top of it, bobbling there for his own enjoyment. Hell, even breathing caused them to tremble and heave. Fuck yeah, he wanted her in a corset every damn day for the rest of her life.

"Let's go out," she said with a grin.

They walked the two blocks from the hotel to Savannah's nightlife district. The evening was warm and humid, soft with fragrance of flowers. River Street was one level below most of the city, so he carefully held her hand as they wound down the steep stairs and cobblestone ways toward the river. While she considered her shoes sexy and necessary, he considered them spindly and dangerous. Though they did look great when she wore them and nothing else. He liked it when she sat astride him on the floor with those deadly shoes.

In deference to his dislike for dance clubs, and the fact that they were in town to see some old friends this weekend, they first went to one of his favorite haunts. It was a bar where his fellow co-workers hung out and though he had been gone for a few years now, there were always familiar faces inside.

When those fellow co-workers ogled his woman and her bountiful bosoms, he decided he didn't like the corset in public. It was fine for at home, but he didn't need her boobies falling out at random times tonight, and he really didn't need his buddies staring at said boobies all evening.

Though he was glad to see his friends and share a pint or three, he frowned a lot. She seemed to like it.

Fucking tease.

But then she would snuggle up against him and his arm would fall right into those cavernous boobies and he would forget about his buddies for a second. Yeah, he really liked the corset.

She liked seeing him in this situation. It was a bar that all the guys from work hung out at and he was able to see old friends and meet the new ones who had come in after him. He was comfortable here, at ease with those of his own ilk. Usually when they were out he was a bit more focused, watching everything and everyone. But here he knew his brothers had his back and he relaxed more than usual.

They were standing at the bar and her boobs were getting more attention than she had ever imagined. She'd never worn the corset in public before, had only tried it on at the store and decided then and there that she had to have it. After buying it, she'd had to come up with a reason to wear it. A weekend out seemed the perfect rationale.

But then her mind had taken it even further. Why not go to Savannah for the weekend? It was a city they both knew and loved, plus it was far enough away from home that they probably wouldn't know anyone (other than at the bar). All the better for her night's devious plans.

She carried on conversations with the men around her, meeting new ones, saying hello to the few she had met before. But she didn't really pay attention to them or her surroundings. All of her awareness was focused on the man she had arrived with.

His arm was cradled against her burgeoning breasts, right where she had put it. His skin was hot and the little hairs there tickled her sensitive breasts. Then he began to rub, just a bit, so little that no one would even notice it. But she did. She turned sideways into him, her belly against his hip, and his now concealed hand came up to scratch against the top of the corset where her nipple was barely hidden.

Oh, that felt good. Little velvet lightning strikes lanced through her tummy and straight to her pussy. She felt her body begin to get wet, her pussy clenching and releasing around a phantom cock that wasn't there yet.

She liked to tease him, but sometimes it really sucked when she ended up on the wrong side of her own games. The evening was still long from over.

They left the bar with promises of a backyard barbeque the next day. He glared at every man on the street they passed who gave more than a glancing shot at her chest. She beamed at each one of them. This top was a fantastic ego boost.

The night was hopping; people spilled out of bars and clubs with plastic cups of beer or frozen goodness gripped in their fists. Marines were easy to spot by their haircuts, couples strolled hand in hand, groups of guys or girls or both tramped about laughing and tugging on each other. She had forgotten how much she really did like Savannah at night.

The club she wanted to dance at was on the right side of the street and she pulled him across with her. Bass thumped to the sidewalk from the three floors of music inside the closed doors. The line to get in didn't take long and before they knew it they were overwhelmed with body heat, dance floor smoke and riotous, bump and grind music.

With one arm snaked around the waist bared between her corset and pants, he pulled her back against them as they wound their way through the crowd. His fingers tapped with the beat of the song against her hipbone. Even with the heels on, he was still about an inch taller than she, and she reveled in it; it made her feel small and protected, hard to do at almost six feet tall herself.

A bumping remix of "Butterfly" thudded through the speakers and she turned immediately toward the main dance floor. Downstairs usually had a live band and upstairs played mostly hip-hip. Her hips swung with the beat of their own volition. She loved this song.

He followed her onto the floor, and as soon as they had forced their way into a small open space, yanked her back into his body. Plastered from chest to crotch, legs laced together, they fell easily into their own bump and grind.

Bending her knees, she slid up and down his hard thigh. On the way down she writhed against him and the seam of her pants bit into her clit; on the way up she made sure to press her own leg into his crotch. Each time she came back up, his cock was just a little harder.

"Come and dance with me," she sung along. He never heard the words over the music, but he certainly saw them tumble from his lips.

One hand slapped onto her ass and jerked her high enough on his leg that her feet left the floor. He kept her there, riding his leg, and she clamped her thighs around him and let the sensation pour through. The weight of her own body pushed her hot little clit into the strength of his leg and she squirmed there to wring out as much feeling as possible.

"I'll make your legs shake," he promised. His teeth closed gently around her ear and shivers racked her. Her legs, did in fact, shake.

"You make me go crazy," she answered before sinking her own bite into the crook of his neck. She felt his growl against her lips.

There were some songs she wanted to dance to, and some she skipped. He wasn't sure of her motives, unless it was just to keep him on the edge of erection all night long. They would basically dry hump on the dance floor for one song, and when the next came on, she spin away and dance for him, but never touch him. When the third played she would decide she didn't like it, or she needed a drink, or she had to the restroom. He tried to follow her in for that little trip and was denied with a promising wink.

That corset had him worried and hot at the same time. When they danced together, he prayed for one little nipple to pop out and say hello so he could lick it. On the other hand, anytime she wasn't plastered against him, he was terrified that the boobs he considered his own were going to fall out for everyone else to play with.

She knew exactly what that outfit was doing to him. Walking away she made sure her ass swayed for him; on the way back he swore she somehow made her chest swell even higher.

They had danced to another of what she considered her "sex songs," this one "I'm a Slave 4 U" by some pop princess, when she said she wanted to walk around a bit and would meet him back at the bar. Not a problem, he would spend the next few minutes reliving the hot little belly dance moves she had demonstrated. He hadn't known that her hips could do figure eights quite like that, and decided they'd have to try that sometime soon. Alone. And naked.

He ordered an overpriced beer at the bar and turned to people watch for a moment. He spotted her almost immediately. Fuck, her body was amazing in that outfit. Her boobs were simply outstanding, then the corset hugged her ribs and cut her waist into a tighter hourglass than usual. Those skin-tight pants started well below her exposed belly button and clasped her skin all the way to the ankle, where the fuck-me shoes and their spiky heels raised her another three inches off the floor.

She was standing at another part of the bar, talking to a blonde he'd never seen before. She was fucking hot too. Long blond hair tumbled in curls down her back and she wore a shirt no larger than a handkerchief. It barely covered her own exceptional breasts and left most of her ribs and tummy bare. She was sitting, so he couldn't see her legs, but the top of her worked just fine.

Blondie nodded toward the dance floor and he followed her gaze to a group of ladies dancing together. No one was wearing a veil, so he figured it wasn't a bachelorette party, just a bunch of women out on a Friday night.

He looked back to the bar and saw his own wet dream standing even closer to Blondie, then running a hand down her arm. What was she doing now? She dipped her head toward him and Blondie checked him out. He raised his beer in acknowledgement; Blondie seemed to approve, because she smiled and returned to their conversation.

He turned again to people watch while the ladies finished their discussion. Soon he felt a presence by his side and looked down to what he was beginning to think of as his corset.

"Let's dance," she said and pulled him back to the dance floor. He saw no signs of Blondie.

Again they forced their way into an open spot in the crowd. He was just get into the song when Blondie showed up.

"Amanda," he heard her yell over the music, "I'd like you to meet Zach."

Zach? Who the hell was Zach?

"Zach," she called, staring at him intently, "this is Amanda."

"It's really great to meet you and Taylor," Blondie Amanda shouted. Damn the music was loud. But he figured out who Zach and Taylor were. Apparently they were under alias for the remainder of the evening.

"You too," he answered.

Then his Taylor slithered up his body and licked his ear.

"I've invited Amanda back to the hotel with us tonight."

His world stopped spinning.

It wasn't often that she could actually surprise him, but this seemed to have done the trick quite nicely. The plan had hatched not long after the purchase of what was quickly turning into her favorite piece of clothing. He had asked about a threesome previously, but it had taken her awhile to find her own boundaries for such a situation. A city hours away from home, where some random chick didn't know their real names, seemed like the best plan. That way there was no chance of said random chick going stalker-psycho later on and trying to kill one of them or boiling rabbits or committing any number of other unsavory acts.

Amanda had been watching them all night. Mostly staring at him, but often her gaze would catch on her too. Or maybe the corset. It didn't matter. When she approached the blonde at the bar it hadn't taken but a few sentences to turn the conversation where she wanted it to go. Amanda swore this was the first time she had done something like this, but that was almost laughable. The girl was way too comfortable with the situation for this to be a first time.

Of course, her alter ego Taylor seemed pretty damned comfortable as well, but she was very good at playing a role and bluffing her way through obstacles.

Zach, and she would have to think of him so for the rest of the night, still had his mouth dropped open when her absolute favorite sex song began to throb through the speakers.

"You let me violate you," she whispered and dropped to her heels in front of him. Amanda seemed to catch on pretty quick and slipped around behind him. A nice little Zach sandwich was formed.

Zach liked sandwiches and pulled Amanda's arms around his waist. She writhed against him from the back while Taylor slowly brought herself up to full height again, grinding against him wherever she could, nails scratching up his pants and into the sensitive skin at the vee of his thigh. She could see his dick getting hard again, and she was pretty sure it would stay that way for awhile now.

All in, she told herself, and grabbed a handful of erection with one hand while the other gripped Amanda's fingers and pulled her around front. In the little triangle they formed, she surreptitiously pumped her hand up and down on Zach's cock, while Amanda leaned in to lick a hot path across the top of her breasts. When she dropped her head back in abandon, he attacked her mouth with his own.

"I want to fuck you like an animal," he and Trent Reznor told her at the same time.

She didn't really remember leaving the club, but she knew it was very soon after mentioning Amanda's invitation to Zach. They might have stayed through the end of "Closer," but Amanda had a very skilled mouth and Taylor's memory was shot.

Zach was still gentleman enough to help them both over the cobblestones and up the stairs to Savannah's main level, then he dropped his arms around each of their shoulders and they trooped on to the hotel like three friends, not three people ready to fuck themselves blind.

The hotel lobby was brightly lit after the soft darkness outside. Inside the elevator car, jazzy muzak played incongruously as the three of them stared straight ahead at the oak doors. They walked down the hall to their room, and Zach ushered them into the suite after unlocking the door.

Taylor was just about to get really weirded out by the whole situation and call an end to it when Zach spun her around for a deep, hot kiss with lots of tongue. Then she felt Amanda behind her, lifting her hair out of the way and slicking a hot path on the nape of her neck. And Taylor was fine with it after all.

Zach felt Taylor start to tense beside and him and figured he had to do something to keep her in the mood. There was no way in hell he was going to let her renege now. He gave her the kind of kiss she loved, not quite hard but certainly not gentle. He used his tongue to taste her entire mouth while rhythmically pushing his erection into her stomach. She softened immediately. He was vaguely aware of Blondie Amanda somewhere behind Taylor, but wasn't really paying attention to her.