Dan's Party

Dan’s Party

by Rachel Cray

An erotic romance short story in the Maybourne Series
Copyright 2011 Rachel Cray

It all began when Tony asked Gemma for a favour.
“Dan’s having a party in a couple of weeks’ time, ahead of his wedding to Paula.”
“A stag party?  Or as my American friend would call it, a bachelor party?”
“Not quite.  He doesn’t want everyone going wild: just a few drinks in a hired room in a hotel.  Quite a tame affair, really.  And a stripper.”
“And you’re invited, I assume.”
“Yes.  And he wants to ask a favour...”
“Stripper?  Oh, no, Tony.  I’m a highly-paid professional woman!  What on earth are you thinking?”
“You’ve misunderstood me.  Dan was wondering, with your network of contacts at the Maybourne Players, if any of them knew a young woman who could perform.  They’re in the entertainment industry, after all.”
“But the Maybourne Players are just a bunch of enthusiastic amateur actors.  We wouldn’t get ourselves involved in anything like stripping at an all-male party.”
“O.K.  Just thought I’d ask.”
“But wait a minute... I think I know someone who might help.   She has done it once before, but it wasn’t quite the same kind of thing as this.  Leave it with me, Tony.  I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
And so, the next day, Gemma asked me.  I’m Samantha, by the way.
“The only time I stripped off was when I played Salome, doing her Dance of the Seven Veils at an adults-only special night,” I said.  “It was supposed to be very high-brow and cultural.  But I had to get drunk before I was confident enough to do it.”
“And you did strip down all the way.”
“In the name of culture.  And not in front of a male-only audience.”
“Look, Sam, you probably haven’t met any of these guys before.  They’ll be strangers in a darkened room, and probably the worse for drink by the time you get in front of them.  They’re all professionals – my Tony works in Advertising, Dan – he’s the party host – is an accountant, and several of the other guys work in my field, Financial Services.  Most of them are in their twenties or early thirties and are married or in long-term relationships.  If any of them stepped out of line, I’d make sure all their wives and girlfriends heard about it.  Dan will have to answer to Paula.  And Tony will have to answer to the wrath of me.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Dan’s prepared to pay good money for this.”
“How much?”
She told me.
That much?  O.K., I’ll do it.”
She told me the date, time and the venue.  Tony, the best man at the wedding, had hired a room at The Swan Hotel at Maybourne for the party.
“I’ll bring my own CD with some music suitable to dance to – provided Dan or Tony can provide a CD player – and I’ll need a male escort, just to keep an eye on things for me.”  And I wasn’t going to ask one of my own family, either.  I didn’t want them to know what I was doing.  I finished with my last boyfriend a couple of weeks previously.  He’d have been jealous if he’d heard about me doing this, anyway.  “I’ll bring Len, a guy that I work with.  He’s married, fortyish, and a safe pair of hands.  He can keep everything under control for me.”
The day arrived.  I wasn’t needed until eleven o’clock, I was told; the party would begin at eight and, hopefully, the guests would be well into the spirit of things by the time I arrived. 
I dressed in stockings, belt, a sexy pair of panties, the shortest dress in my wardrobe, and a high-visibility vest – such as police and other emergency services wear – which displayed the word “stripper” at the back.  That was my only special purchase for the event, and it was pretty cheap.  I put the CD in my bag, put on my coat and waited for Len to arrive with his car.  I had already told my family that I was going to a party organised by my firm; because the guys on the late shift wanted to come along too, I said, they had decided to start the party later in the evening.
Len came with his car, and I climbed in.  He and I both lived in Thorncroft, a village several miles from Maybourne, on the other side of Buckford, where Tony and Gemma lived.  I was a little worried as soon as I heard Len start his car.
“I’ve been having a little trouble with her lately,” he said.  “It should be all right for the round trip tonight, though.”
But it wasn’t.  After driving for about twenty minutes, the car came to an abrupt stop and Len couldn’t get it started again.  He got out of the car, and started messing around with the carburettor.  I knew nothing about car maintenance, so I stayed in my seat.
“I don’t want to let these people down,” I called.  “If we’re not moving again in the next ten minutes, I’ll have to get out and walk.”
“But it’s dark,” he said.   “One glimpse of the tops of your stockings, and any passing motorist will get the wrong idea about you.  You’ll be mobbed with offers.”
I waited.  I calculated that we must be about four miles from the centre of Maybourne.  If I walked, in these heels, it would take me a good ninety minutes to get to the hotel.  And I hadn’t brought my mobile phone to call them, to let them know I’d be late.
Len’s ten minutes were up.  He could stay and try and get his car to start.  I was going to start walking.
“How are you getting back?” he asked as I began my trek down the dark road.
“I have enough money for a cab home.”
 I was crazy to walk alone down this road so late at night.  There was the occasional street light to reassure me, and there were very few cars passing; mercifully I found no pedestrian– but, being in the middle of a rural area, with no houses in the neighbourhood, that would have been unlikely anyway.
After walking what seemed an eternity, I finally approached Maybourne, lit up ready to welcome me.  I looked at my watch; it was 12.20, and I was nearly ninety minutes late.
When I arrived at The Swan, I announced myself to the night reception staff, and I was escorted to the room where the private party was being held.
I walked in to a darkened room and had to wait a minute for my eyes to get accustomed to it.  Dan and Tony introduced themselves; I handed them my CD and I was about to explain why I was so late, but they had turned away, put on the CD and then pointed to where they wanted me to start dancing.
I moved to my spot, and got into the rhythm of the first number, I’m So Dizzy.
There was an interruption; one of the hotel staff came back into the room; Dan and Tony looked at each other, and both left the room.  “Carry on – just dance!” Tony called, and the music started.
In the low lights, I counted nine or ten men.  And only one guy there looked anywhere near sober.  The rest had fallen asleep in their chairs, their heads cradled in their arms on the table. I had arrived late – if they had started drinking at eight that evening, it was no wonder they appeared intoxicated.
And there was only one guy sufficiently awake to enjoy my performance.  But I had been paid half the fee in advance, so I was under an obligation to continue.
Along with the rhythm of the music, I gyrated, my hips wiggled, I pulled up the side of my skirt to reveal the stocking top; the first thing to go was the high-visibility vest identifying me as their stripper.  After a little longer, my top came off and I pretended to play with my nipples through my bra.
Next, I dropped my skirt to the ground, and began thrusting my crotch at the one-man audience.  He was sitting behind a table, fumbling with himself.  Nobody else was watching me; what a waste, I thought, but at least I’m earning good money.
I beckoned him forward.  He obeyed.  From the way he walked, I guessed he was completely sober.  Had he been on orange juice all night?  I pulled up a chair in front of me, and gestured to him to sit down.  I twirled my high-visibility vest round my waist provocatively.  I was going to give him a special one-man show.
The next track was Lola – it had a different rhythm but was just as suggestive. 
My bra was the next item to be removed; I knelt down, with my back to him, inviting him to unhook me.  His fingers never faltered.  I stood up again, and noticed he was playing with himself.
“Get it out and give it some air,” I said.  “I won’t mind.”
He obeyed.
“You’ve got a nice one there,” I smiled encouragingly.  His cock was already stiff and he began caressing it openly in front of me.
I decided not to take off my stockings; I was planning to invite someone to unclip them but, since the only surviving member of the audience already had his hand busy, I pulled down my panties, walked up to the guy and thrust my crotch in his face, two inches from his nose. 
I looked down at his dick.  He was still busy masturbating.  This was getting me horny, too, but I was working here: I must not reveal any sign of weakness.
“You need some help to finish off?” I asked.
He nodded.
I picked up my panties from the floor, and handed them to him.  “Wrap these round him,” I said.
He complied.  Then I sat on his lap, clamping his dick and my panties between the top of my thighs, and gyrated with the music that was still playing.  I felt him thrust in time with my motion and, very soon, I heard him groan.
I stood up and turned to face him.  “Was it good?” I smiled.
“The best I’ve ever had.”
Just then, Dan and Tony came back into the room.  The music stopped.  “Do you know a man called Len?” Tony asked.
“Yes, he’s my driver.  He broke down, and I had to walk the last few miles.  That’s why I arrived late.”
“And I’m sorry we missed you.”
“Do you want me to do it again?” I asked.
“No.  We’ve organised someone to go and get your Len moving again.  And we’ve got to get you home, too.”
“Just so long as Len’s not taking me home in that broken-down dustcart.”
“What are you going to do?” asked my solitary survivor in the audience.
“Get a taxi home,” I said and, turning to Tony, added “Tell Len not to bother coming here to pick me up.”
“It’s late,” said Survivor.  “We’ve all booked rooms here for the night.  I have twin beds in my room upstairs– and one’s not occupied.  You’re welcome to take it for the night if you like.  No funny business.  Unless, of course, you want some.”
“I think we’ve already had some, haven’t we?” I smiled.  I looked at Dan and Tony; thankfully, they hadn’t realised what I meant.
“It looks like the party’s over,” Survivor observed.  “Can you guys wake up these Sleeping Beauties and help them get upstairs to bed?  I have a lady guest here to entertain.”
I picked up the clothes I had discarded, and quickly put my top and skirt back on.  I carried everything else; Tony and Dan handed me back my music CD, together with a wad of banknotes representing the balance of my fee.  I’d enjoy counting that later.  Survivor escorted me out of the room.
“I’m Vince, by the way,” said Survivor, finally introducing himself.
“I’m Sam,” I smiled.  “But you probably know that.”
“You were billed as Samantha.  Probably sounds just a bit more exotic.”
“You’re welcome to call me that, if I get to call you Vincent.”
We went up to his room.  “You’re a great dancer,” he observed, as we walked side by side along the corridor.
“I’m glad I got you excited.”
“It was very intimate.  Like you were just dancing for me.  As if I had hired you as my personal dancer for the night.”
“I was dancing just for you, Vince.  Nobody else seemed interested.”
“You might be forgiven for thinking that Dan, Tony and I could have spiked their drinks.”
I laughed.  Vince didn’t laugh.  “Are you serious?”
Vince smiled and put a finger to his lips as he opened the door to his room.
I hadn’t really been able to get a good look at him downstairs during my performance in the darkened room, and it was only now that I turned to him and had a chance to study his face.
I recognised him.  “I know you,” I said.  “Where have we met before?”
“We did a course at college together a few years ago.  Remember?”
“You’re Vincent Waverley,” I gasped.
“The same.  Samantha Rowlands, I presume?”  He held out his hand and I shook it.  “And now I must make an extraordinary confession.  I had a huge crush on you, and always wanted to go out with you.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I thought you were going steady with that red-haired fellow.  Forgotten his name.”
“So have I.  He belongs in my past.”
“Like me, I suppose.”
“No.  You’re in the here and now.  With me, in this room.”  I still felt horny.  I had watched Vince masturbate in front of my naked pussy.  I wanted more.  I threw my clothes on the bed.  I was only wearing my shoes, stockings and belt.
“You’ve given me a great deal of pleasure,” he said.  “May I pleasure you now?”  He went down on his knees and faced my pussy.  I leaned against the wall, and felt him press his head against me, and his tongue caressed my clit.
My legs buckled slightly, stimulated by the soft, velvety feel of his tongue as it nudged its way round me.  I could feel my moistness swirling round as my clit grew more and more stimulated.  His hands rested on my buttocks to steady me; one finger approached my anus and that made me feel even more and more wild.
His tongue worked hard, and it did its job well to satisfy me.
“Please... enough...” I gasped, feeling on the verge of reaching my climax.
He reached his feet and faced me, his hand reaching down to masturbate me; I felt another hand reach behind, and two fingers push gently up my vagina.  I moved my body in the same rhythm as the motion of his hands and, within a few moments, the orgasmic power finally smashed into me, forcing the huge pulsating excitement through my whole being.
“That was gorgeous,” I whispered.  And it was indeed gorgeous.
“I’ve wanted to do that to you for a very long time,” he smiled.
“Have you got your strength back for another come?”
“I don’t know.  Would you like to try?”
“Between my legs again.  But standing up, this time.  ‘Knee-trembler’ style.”
I put on my panties again – stained with his come from the episode earlier – and stood with my back to the wall again, while he faced me, putting his cock between my legs, rubbing against my silk underwear.  Our lips met and our tongues explored each other, forcing their way through into each other’s mouths.
His firm hands held my buttocks again as we thrust and withdrew in perfect time with each other.  I was getting wet again; I could feel him hardening between my legs.
“Can we try something different?” he asked.  “Can you face the wall, with your legs slightly apart?  I’ll come through your legs from behind.”
I preferred this position because he was able to put his hand down inside my underwear and rub my clit; I felt his other hand play with the fastening at the top of my stocking.  I felt his dick becoming even firmer and attempting to push upwards against me, trying to gain access to either hole.  But my panties barred him from entry.  He continued thrusting forward; I leaned forward and began to feel his dick pushing against my clit.  I felt a finger from his other hand move gently upwards to explore inside my anus.  This was heaven.
I came.  A wave of erotic senses engulfed me; I could hardly continue standing.   I cried out “Yes!  Yes!”
And he came.  He called out a primitive, animal sound, in a forced whisper, and I felt the throb of his cock as he began to ejaculate; I put my hand down to my pussy and felt him shoot his warm, creamy sperm into my palm.
“Had enough?” he asked.
I nodded.
“There’s room in my bed for two.  And, if you feel like more during the night, wake me.  I am your obedient servant.  But please don’t take off your stockings.  They’re one hell of a turn-on for me.”
“May I ask one last question?  Did you, Dan and Tony get together to plan this?   I want the truth about everything.”
“As soon as Tony told me that he had engaged you as a stripper, there was a last-minute change of plan.  But we hadn’t planned for the long wait.  You were over an hour and a half late.  We were all ready to call it off and to go to bed.”
“And Tony and Dan left the room while I was stripping, so you had me all to yourself.  Was that planned?”
“They were looking for an excuse.  Your friend Len happily helped us out.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Alcohol?  Nothing.”
“So it’s as I suspected.  You’re still sober.  I’m not sure about Dan and Tony.”
“Having to go without alcohol for one night is a small price to pay for the pleasure you’ve given me tonight, Sam.”
“Thank you for waiting, Vince.  You’ve made it worthwhile for me, too... and I’m not talking about my fee, either.”
“Does this mean...”
“You want to go out with me?  I’m free on Saturday.”


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