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He would grab at their beasts and pinch their nipples. One time a petite girl was in the hall area of the washroom. She was highly intoxicated and no one else was around. She was a cute gal with straight long jet black hair that fell well below her waist. Tanned olivey complexion. Flawless skin. Red lipstick. All dolled up for a night of wildness. She would get it. Sexy black shoes that wrapped up her legs and were tied in a bow above her knees. A black spaghetti strap dress that hugged her little hour glass frame tightly. Andrew came up behind her and picked her up with one arm wrapping it around her tiny little waist. She kicked a bit but was no match being only 100 pounds soak and wet and 5 feet tall. Andrew took her into the back storage room and pinned her face first down onto a table. Her hair smelled good like fresh strawberries. She kicked and screamed and tried to get up. Her little flailing legs could not touch the floor. She was too little to fight back. The loud bar music. Her shirt tucked into the skirt, its front open and her bra now showing, she licked her lips at the guys as she danced, wet a finger, and traced it down her stomach and momentarily dipped her hand out of sight under the skirt. She pantomimed rubbing her crotch, and the men gazed lustfully at this lovely dancing slut. James’ hand was already rubbing his crotch through his pants. The imp pulled the shirttail loose from her skirt, slid it off her shoulders and tossed it to the guys. She danced in her bra and short skirt, her white socks and MaryJanes. What a dream I’m in, thought James, getting hard. This is my own whore, thought John – it just gets more exciting with her every day. Mary was gradually realizing she had long been a closet-exhibitionist….and wondered if most women were this way. She recalled resenting her mother’s tutelage many years ago that ‘ladies always must sit with their ankles crossed and legs closed’. Why?! She danced closer to the couch, briefly put.
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His hand became lighter, as if evaporating. I squeezed tighter but it became even more intangible. I squeezed more and now my palms closed against each other, with nothing in between them. My eyes darted without purpose in complete darkness. There was no more presence, I was alone, I felt it with my every pore. I was safe, calm, restored. A sense one gets after meditation or a joyous feeling a glass of wine brings on – worries brushed away, sadness gone – complete clarity and peace.I touched my stomach – it was wet, my crotch was still pulsating with a recent surge of energy - it was not a dream.I curled on the carpet. The room smelled of rain, the wind had now calmed down. There were too many thoughts in my head to think them all. I listened to my breaths, one, two, three, four, five… thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…___________I woke up with a throw over me and a smell of French toast. Quinn loved French toast.When showering me, he noticed finger marks on my back, five red.

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