Body Paint at a Rave Pt. 05

This is part 5 of an ongoing series. Please read the first ones in order to make sense of it. And comment if you like it!

*****

I did not see Penelope for a while after that evening. At first I just assumed that the natural fluctuations of the party season had kept us apart. But after the weeks turned into a month, then two, I started thinking otherwise. Was she avoiding me? Had I crossed a line? Had SHE crossed a line? After all, she had been the instigator that last evening.

Finally, I saw her again. She was with her group of friends, dancing. I watched her for a while from my usual corner, hoping that she would make her way over to me. But she stayed away and danced with a boy instead. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She had a found a boyfriend, and I had lost a playmate.

I was saddened by this, trying to tell myself that I was happy for her. It didn't really work. She never came to my booth, never even looked my way. I fell into a kind of funk after that night.

Thankfully I was distracted by the growing number of gigs I was getting as a body painter. I did a few more glitzy gigs but always returned to these smaller, more edgy parties where I felt I was meeting more interesting, and sexy, people. That's how I was invited to the Moon Party, a semi-exclusive party in the desert that took place during the next full moon. I was handed two free tickets (and a map) in exchange for my work.

I readily accepted.

I also clutched that extra ticket in a palm that had suddenly turned sweaty.

The following week I searched for Penelope in the crowd. A few hours passed before I finally saw her, dancing amongst her friends. That new boy, her boyfriend, was there as well. I waited until she was at the edge of her circle of friends to slip past her, casually dancing.

"HI" I screamed over the music.

A slightly panicked look came over her face.

"I just have an extra ticket if you want it!" I held up the ticket and handed it to her. She took it, not thinking. I shimmied away, dancing the white man dance I do so well.

Later that evening I caught her watching me. She was standing against the wall, still and alone, watching me paint the half-naked body of a raver.

----

The moon party was the following weekend in a far off desert location. I had left Friday night, driving the 2 hours out of the city indicated on the map. By then the sun had set and the surrounding desert was lit only by the rising moon. I took the turn onto a dirt road marked on the map. For the next 45 minutes I drove slowly over the cragged path that lead into a knob of stone.

The Moon Party was to be held in a small valley ringed by low red hills. It formed a natural playground separated and isolated from the rest of the world by the desert, the hills and the distance. The small valley was already half filled by the party goers, about two dozen tents and RVs parked in a loose circle around the central dance area. Less than a hundred people were supposed to be here, all part of an exclusive social circle composed of the ravers, the burners and the ex-hippies that form the heart of the underground night-life. The gathering was small, but it promised to be off the hook.

I slowly made my way in the dark towards an empty spot on the outside of the ring of tents. I parked and stepped out into the cool night air. Even without lights, the valley was brightly lit by a moon that was almost at its fullest. The valley was dark; the DJ booth was in the process of being built and the lights were not up yet. The night was filled with the hushed sounds of sleepy campers. I rolled out my sleeping bag and sleeping mat, crawled in, and promptly fell asleep under the stars.

The next morning I took my time to set up. People were arriving throughout the day, filling the small valley. I planted my shade structure on the edge of the dance area, holed up between two RVs to catch as much shade as possible. Around me the camp was erupting into life. The DJ booth was up and music was starting to blast out of the towers of speakers that flanked it. There was no DJ yet , just a laptop providing an endless stream of electronic music. A few people were already dancing as the campground around them was slowly growing and transforming into a festival.

The tents and cars were slowly being covered by the banners and flags that were popping up. Colorful domes were being erected, their floors covered in dusty pillows to received the tired dancers. A forest of posts had been planted to host a nest of hammocks. A few booths had been set-up around me to host the few food vendors that had been invited in. Once again I was amazed by the ingenuity and energy found this community of drugged-up hedonists. The vendors were setting-up their displays of kambucha and gluten-free soy chicken wraps as I set up my supplies, ready to start.

As the campground transformed into a carnival, the people started transforming as well. Jeans and T-shirts disappeared as colorful sarongs, kilts, and leather jockstraps started making their appearance. The women turned into colorful birds, some wearing plumed head-dresses, neon body suits or some outfits straight out of Mad Max.

The mood was still fairly mellow. I even took a nap in one of the gently swinging hammocks. I kept an eye on the dance floor though. One of the girls had caught my eye and was driving me nuts. She was a thin, almost wiry brunette, dressed only in a black sports bra, boots, and what looked like a wide belt from which several leather pouches hung. I couldn't tell if she was wearing anything underneath the belt. If she was, it was at most a thong. As she danced the pouches would flap around, but their weight prevented them from moving too much. They would reveal a flash of thigh, an arc of rounded ass, but no more. She was sexy in a rough, dust-covered way, and the teasing kept my eyes glued to her thighs. I was almost tempted to get up and get a better look, but I was lying in a hammock with a cup of cold-brewed coffee balanced on my tummy. I was too relaxed to move so I simply settled in and enjoyed the show.

I was startled out of my lazy reverie when I spotted Penelope. She was dressed in a onesie, one of those adult-sized footed themed pajamas. Hers was a panda, complete with a hood with little round ears. Around her neck was a broad colorful scarf. She was alone, dancing slowly at the edge of the dance floor, looking around. I waved at her.

She saw me and smiled, waving back. She started to make her way towards me. She was, still, alone. Her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. My hopes were up.

"Hi" she said brightly as she neared my hammock. "You look comfy!"

"I am comfy. That's a cute outfit you have." I said, pointing at her pajamas with my coffee cup.

What I had noticed was that the zipper in the front of the onesies was down to her belly button. Behind the folds of her scarf, I could see bare flesh. It didn't look like she was wearing anything underneath it. My hopes were definitely up.

"I dressed for comfort" she said, grinning. "Is your booth set-up?"

"The booth is up, but I'm not. I can be, though" I started to get up.

"It's okay" she said, stopping me from getting up." Maybe I'll drop by later. I still need to get settled in."

"You like it?" I said, motioning to the camp around us.

Her eyes lit up, " this is AWESOME!" she said, a huge smile on her face. "I'm gonna run around an explore, and set up my tent, and then I'll come back. See you later!" She waved and was off.

I settled back in my hammock, a big smile on my face and a slight tingle in my cock. This was, indeed, awesome.

It took me over an hour to go from the hammock to my booth. I chatted with some of the other hammock dwellers, moved on, and graciously accepted a mixed drink offered by a guy wearing not much more than a large plumed hat and a bandana around his hips. I hesitated but he laughed and confirmed that the hardest drug in the drink was the vodka. My next-booth-neighbors offered me a veggie roll, which was delicious so I bought three more. By the time my first victim sat on my stool, I was fed, slightly buzzed, and very much in love with humanity as a whole.

The deal was that I couldn't charge money for the work, which I liked. People just wandered in and got painted. There was no haggling , no hesitation. Some people got a painted version of the tattoo they never dared to get, or a simple design, and some went all the way and walked out covered in paint form head to toe.

One woman sat down to get her face painted. A black-haired beauty, with pale skin and wide lips, she sat on my stool and thrust her face out to me, a big smile on her face. She braced her arms on the stool, pushing her ample breasts out. She was wearing a bra and singlet, so her breasts were bulging out in a very distracting way. I painted her face, alternating between dots and lines around her eyes and cheeks. She turned her head, exposing the side of her neck. I took the hint and painted her neck, first one side, then the other. I let long lines of paint trace down from her neck to fade across her sternum.

With a wicked smile she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up, offering them up as canvas. I obliged and painted lines, dots, and swirls across the soft pale flesh of her breasts. I could see the pinker hue of her areolas peek from under her bra, so I painted that too. I watched as the skin crinkled under my brush. She bit her lip. I saw in her eyes the dance that was about to begin, where her inhibitions were pushing back against the urge to be seen, to be naked and worshipped.

She turned on the stool and pulled her shirt up and over her head, bunching it up under her chin. She looked at me over her shoulder.

"Can you do my back too? Just undo the strap" she said, trying to be casual, but by now I knew where this road was going.

I could see the side of her chest, where the ribcage disappears under the first folds of her breast. I undid the clasp of her bra and watched as the cups, released, fell forward, revealing a heavy curve of flesh, still mostly hidden by the bundled shirt. I started painting. Whether she knew it yet or not, she would go further. She had too. Once painted, her back could not be covered by her shirt again or the paint would smudge. So I painted again, painted a dream pattern of dots and dashes across her spine and sides, trailing paint across her rib cage. She let her head hang down.

In a single motion she pulled her shirt and bra off. She turned and offered me her breasts, not daring to look at me, keeping her head and eyes aimed up. She had magnificent breasts; full and heavy, almost perfectly round, tipped by dark nipples that were hard and erect already.

I continued trailing dots across her ribs, between her breasts and over her sternum. Her breasts were almost glowing in contrast to the paint. I laid a double row of dots down to her belly button, another series of dashes across her hip bones. She looked almost more naked now. Her breasts were the last unpainted part of her body. Her nipples were rock hard and pinched.

I took a different brush and dipped it in a watery mixture. Wiping the excess first, I started applying a thin, almost translucent layer of paint across her breasts. The paint didn't hide anything; it merely turned her skin blue. I let the soft brush play across her nipples as I watched her face, watch her lips tremble under the touch.

I drew more broad swatches of color across her sides, shoulders and arms, unifying the design. She looked great, less obviously naked, but a strange sexy alien.

"All done" I said.

She sat there for a second. I moved the small mirror I had propped up so that she could see herself. She smiled.

"Looks great" she said, in a husky voice.

"I could do your whole body like that" I said, pointing at her legs. She laughed and stood up, now dressed only in her shorts.

"Maybe later" she said before waving goodbye and walking away. I took that as a yes.

I took a break form painting to watch the crowd of dancers. By now the sky was darkening as the sun barely crested over the low hills around us. The valley had filled up with people, a good hundred or so, all clustered around the open-air dance floor. The DJ booth had grown, sporting towers of lights, fog machines and video projectors. And the party had not even started yet, even though music had been playing all day. The night was the signal for the real party to begin.

I grabbed a beer from my cooler and sat by the dance area, watching Penelope dance. She was easy to spot. In the heat of the desert the onesies must have felt cloying. She had unzipped them and wrapped the arms around her waist, leaving her upper body bare. The large scarf was tied in a loop around her neck, hanging down to her belly. It covered her breast as long as she didn't move too much, but it left her back bare, letting anyone interested enough know that she was topless.

I had half a mind to join her on the dance floor, but refrained myself. She knew where I was. If she wanted company she could simply walk to my booth. She was enjoying herself, enjoying the dance and the interested glances she got from the men around her. I finished my beer and went back to my booth.

As the sun set a hush settled over the crowd. The music was turned off. Everyone turned towards the sun and watch as it made it's way down between two peaks in the surrounding hills. Nature had provided us with a natural time keeper. Within a few breaths, the sun disappeared. The crowd cheered.

A loud, booming note rang out from the DJ stand. A man was standing behind the music console, one arm raised, the other controlling the volume as that one note grew louder and louder. Finally the music came crashing on, lights flared and the party was on. The crowd roared and everyone was on their feet dancing.

The next hour was a blur. The entire camp was at a fever pitch of excitement. Everyone had changed into their best raver outfits, strapped lights and glowsticks to their clothes and launched themselves into the dance floor. Within a half hour of the sun setting the desert was pitch black, making it difficult to see anything. A half hour later, the full moon rose, and suddenly became a second sun, flooding the small valley in a pale silver light. Between the music, the glow sticks and the pulsing lights coming from the DJ tower, it was like being in a dream, on Mars.

Penelope appeared at my booth. She was sweaty and smiling, still dressed in her onesies.

"Hi" she said as she stepped into the booth.

"Well hello! Is it time for some painting?" I replied, motioning her in.

"I think so. I thought it was going to be much colder out here. I'm boiling in this outfit."

"It looks very cute on you." I replied. I couldn't help but look at the swell of her breasts barely visible beneath the fabric of her scarf. I tried to be casual. "So, I guess you have a boyfriend now" I said, feeling foolish and juvenile the second the words left my mouth.

Penelope turned away, visibly irritated and disturbed. She shook her head, mumbling something about being far away. I had broken the fantasy. I wasn't her friend, I was not supposed to share her private life. I was the one who allowed her to make her exhibitionist dreams come true. If I got too close I would stop being safe. She didn't flash her friends, I realized. I could be her painter, or her friend, but not both.

I turned to the small air compressor and turned it on, letting the small droning sound it made fill the awkward silence. I held out the airbrush.

"What'll it be?" I said in my best pirate voice.

She smiled as she looked up, any sign of distress wiped from her face. She stepped closer, pushing the stool away so that she could stand in the middle of the booth.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked.

"Of course" I replied.

"This is the only outfit I brought. It's all I have to wear." With that she unzipped the onesies further, past her belly button until the shaved mound of her pubis was revealed between the fuzzy panels of her costume. She was naked under her costume, and had planned on being naked all weekend, with no way to change.

"But it's too hot." I said.

"It's way too hot. What am I going to do?" she said, looking at me straight in the eye.

"Boy shorts?" I replied.

She smiled and let the onesies fall to her feet.

She stood in my booth, the onesies pooled around her feet, dressed only in a scarf. Her pale smooth belly flowed down into the crevice of her thighs, the bare lips of her pussy peeking out. I had seen her naked before, but every time felt like a revelation.

She placed her hands on her head hand thrust her hips forward, ready to be painted. Her breasts swayed under the scarf. Her gaze became distant, her eyes half closed as she settled into what was by now a well known but still pleasant experience.

I started painting her, nothing fancy, just a block of black paint that gave the illusion that she was wearing tight-fitting boy shorts. The painting was quick, but it had been so long since the last time I painted her that the old thrill came back in full force.

She stood with her legs slightly parted so that I could reach everywhere. I swept the nozzle of the air gun over her belly and thighs, holding up a board to keep my lines square. When I swept the nozzle over the hood of her clit, at the top of the puffy rise of her sex, she inhaled sharply. The old pleasures where there for both of us.

I guided the jet of air and paint over the bare lips of her pussy in long slow strokes. I nudged the stool closer and she immediately got it. She placed one foot on it, raising her leg and opening herself more to me. I quickly finished the inside of her thighs before returning to the folds of her pussy. I could tell that they were already swollen. A bead of liquid, like a tiny clear pearl, had emerged from between the pink inner lips and hung there. I didn't dare disturb it and painted around it, leaving a dash of pink in what quickly had turned into black painted skin.

"Turn around" I said.

She did so, offering me her perfect round ass. Again I quickly painted her, drawing the shorts. I pushed gently on the middle of her spine. She bent forward, her rear end splitting further open and revealing the puckered rose of her ass. Beneath it, her pussy opened in slow motion, the lips peeling apart and revealing their deeper pink insides. The clear pearl had grown. The full length of her folds was slick with her juices now. I painted away, leaving only her wetness untouched. If she ever bent over, she would be revealing the most intimate part of herself. I considered warning her about it, but held my tongue. She probably knew anyway.

After all, if you bend over wearing only paint for shorts, what else are you doing but offering yourself to someone's eye?

"All done" I said. She turned around and gently placed her hand on my head. I stayed kneeling, my face inches form her pussy. But I was looking up into her eyes. She bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

She broke the spell and jumped back.

"I feel so much better! Now I can dance!" she yelled out excitedly. With a wave she pranced out of my booth and onto the nearby dance area.

I watched her for a while as she danced and jumped on the dusty space in front of the DJ booth. She appeared and disappeared in the crowd, but I would spot her and a shiver would run across my body. She was beautiful, and naked, and no one lee knew it but me, and her. Her large scarf fell in front of her chest, hiding her bouncing breasts but making it completely obvious that she was topless. That fact alone attracted several other dancers who tried to share her space. But she would flitter away, dancing by herself, completely self-absorbed. They would watch her dance away, staring, like me, at her swaying ass.