Party Dress

--1—

Rebecca didn't want to go to the office party. Being only one of a few women in her company she had little in common with her colleagues and she could count on one hand those she'd want to see after working hours. She already knew who would get drunk and who would argue too loudly. There would be bad chicken and a deejay playing music that she didn't like. Yet, here she was, in a hotel room, putting on a party dress.

Rebecca's husband Ben loved these events. He liked the food, the liquor, and talking with the guys from her office. He loved any chance to get out and feel sophisticated. When she showed reluctance, he insisted they go, that it was good for her career, and it was fun to dress up like adults. He booked the room at the host hotel and said they'd make a night of it.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror with no shirt on, shaving and happily chattering. She glanced at his bare, lean chest and its sparse little black curls of hair. Ben kept in shape and he loved for people to know it.

"Will Carl be there?" he asked.

"He wouldn't miss it," Rebecca answered. Carl was one of her bosses. Ben got along famously with him. They played tennis together and Ben couldn't wait to tell him about his new racket and how it would give him an advantage.

At least the room was nice. The bathroom and tub were huge, and the bedroom overlooked a long green expanse of golf course.

Usually the summer parties were casual, a picnic or a barbecue. This year someone had decided on a cocktail party. That was another reason Ben loved it. He had bought a tuxedo a few years earlier and looked for any opportunity to wear it.

The attire was another reason for Rebecca to dread it. She stood by the bed staring at her only cocktail dress, a little black one she hadn't worn in five years. It wasn't tight, but it was clingy. It had thin shoulder straps and went to just below the knee. When she bought it, she loved how flattering it was, how it complemented her blonde hair, hugged her almost C-cup breasts and clung to her long legs and trim stomach. She was now 34 and had maintained her figure by running, but she hadn't maintained her desire to draw attention to herself.

Ben kept talking while she held the dress up to the window. The fading sunlight leaked through the thin material. A wave of uneasiness washed over her. She quickly considered feigning illness and skipping the party.

"I love that dress." Ben stood in the bathroom doorway.

"That makes one of us."

"You look really good in it." He walked over and kissed her. She could smell the menthol of his shaving cream.

"Model it for me," he whispered into her ear.

"I don't know," Rebecca protested.

He kissed her on the neck. "Please."

She nodded. "Stay here."

Rebecca loved that Ben found her attractive, even after ten years of marriage. She liked that he lusted after her. It was one reason she was still in love with him.

She took her little black dress into the bathroom. She slipped out of her jeans and T-shirt and pulled it over her head. It still fit, and it still flattered her shape. She allowed herself to feel sexy, at least in their hotel room.

When she came out, Ben was standing in the room, waiting. He grinned and nodded. "Oh, my God. That is so hot."

"Thank you." She turned so he could see the back.

"I can't wait to take this off of you." Ben pulled her to him, and kissed her.

"Why don't we skip the party?"

"Why?" he asked teasingly.

"We can go to bed early," she said.

"And do what?" Ben wanted her to say something dirty. He knew how uncomfortable that made her and how good it sounded.

She blushed, but she wouldn't bite. She did, however, look forward to later, to returning to the giant king bed and hot tub, letting him pull the dress over her head, running her hands over his chest. Hotel sex was her favorite because there were no distractions, no household chores. In a strange place she could pretend to be a slightly idealized, more sexually adventurous version of herself.

Ben ran his hand up her leg, pushing the dress up until he reached the hem of her underwear.

"Um," Ben paused.

"What?"

"Are you going to wear panties?"

Rebecca said yes. Five years ago, she had worn it without panties or bra. On that night, Ben had pulled down the straps as soon as they were alone. He had cupped her breasts and licked her nipples until a busboy walked in on them. It had been exciting, and the memory had fueled many sex sessions. But that was five years ago.

"I'm just saying," he argued. "Panty lines."

She laughed, knowing his real motive. "I'll leave them off in the bedroom." She returned to the bathroom to put on her makeup.

Rebecca looked in the mirror to confirm that her bra and panties weren't visible. After what Ben said, though, she had a more critical eye, and the lines were clear to her. The pale bra straps could slip out from under the fabric of the little black dress. The outline of her panties disrupted its smoothness.

Rebecca had to decide. She imagined everyone in the ballroom noticing her frumpiness. She unhooked the bra and pulled down the panties. Now it looked better. Very nice, she decided. Flattering, even. She also felt exposed, practically naked. She rationalized she was doing this for Ben's benefit and that it could abbreviate their time downstairs.

When she came out, he was fidgeting with his cummerbund and cufflinks.

"How do I look?" he asked, still focused on his buttons.

"Very nice," she said. "Do you really want to go to this?"

Ben smirked. "Of course." He looked up and saw her, then added, "Maybe just briefly."

--2--

They were fashionably late. About fifty co-workers and spouses were already in the small ballroom. Rebecca sighed with relief when she saw that hers wasn't the only black dress, and not the most revealing. She was also pleased that she fit into hers better than most.

"You want a rum and coke?" Ben asked, not waiting for an answer. He left Rebecca alone as he headed to the bar. She surveyed the room, looking for the faces of anyone she would want to talk to.

"Hey." A hand touched her elbow. It was David, one of the company's new accountants. David was just out of college and ten years her junior. They had worked on a few audits together and she had taught him the corporate shortcuts. He was a quick learner.

He was also attractive. Tall, skinny, dark-skinned and so young. But he had no social graces: no small talk skills and entirely focused on work. After six months, she knew almost nothing about him. He kept asking to be assigned to her group, so she guessed she was stuck with him.

"Hi, David," she said. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Really, why not?"

"You don't strike me as the party type."

He leaned slightly into her and smiled. "Normally I'm not, but tonight I'm on a mission."

"Oh, really? What's that?"

"You'll see," he said mysteriously. Rebecca hoped he wasn't planning to do something stupid, like tell off an executive, and jeopardize his career.

David was looser and more relaxed than at work. It may have been because of the nearly empty cocktail glass in his hand.

Noticing her looking at it, David said, "I started early."

Ben returned and said hello to David, who stiffened immediately. Ben handed Rebecca her drink.

"Thanks, honey." She took a sip and grimaced. The drink was more rum than coke.

Her husband grinned. "Office party special."

Ben spotted Carl, who happened to be the only other man there wearing a tuxedo, and he was gone, leaving Rebecca with David. David relaxed again.

"You look really nice," he said.

"So do you," she said, slightly embarrassed at the exchange of compliments. It was true, though. His dark blue suit was expensive, tailored and trim. It showed far better taste than anything he had worn to work.

David talked. It was more than she had ever heard him speak. He also listened and made intelligent comments. She would have felt monopolized if she weren't enjoying it. The conversation revealed to her that he actually had a personality and a life beyond work. The conversation started with small things, about the room and the hotel. He hated golf, loved camping and was also a runner. They talked about shoes and local running courses.

When Rebecca told him she ran thirty miles a week he replied, "That's why you look so good."

The comment felt slightly inappropriate and he knew it. His cheeks flushed. It should have made her uncomfortable, but she was flattered. An attractive, surprisingly charming man a decade her junior complimenting her. It probably helped that she had almost finished her "office party special" and was warm and ever-so-slightly lightheaded.

He held up his empty glass and said, "I'm going to get another drink. Can I get you something?"

She should have said no, but gave him her glass and requested another rum and coke.

Across the room, Ben and Carl were demonstrating their backhands for each other. Rebecca tried to catch her husband's attention, but he was too deep into it. In another corner the bad music started, played by a deejay with an iPod with a speaker.

David returned and handed her a drink. She took a sip and found it to be only slightly weaker than the first.

"You like it strong, right?" he said with a grin.

David told Rebecca about a camping trip he had taken before starting with the company. He spent a month traveling the Baja coast from California to Cabo San Lucas, camping illegally mostly, on the most beautiful beaches he could find. He told her about the camera equipment he had brought, the best towns for bicycling, and how, on one particular beach, he had to outrun a particularly aggressive local cop who wanted a hefty fee for his visit.

As he talked, he touched her. First it seemed accidental, arm against arm, a hand brushed against her neck as he described a sand dune. By the end of his drink, he had his hand on hers. At one point, he put his arm around her shoulder. It felt wrong, and it felt good, with good having the edge. She didn't stop him, even though she could smell alcohol on his breath. Rebecca looked to get Ben's attention, but he was now in a group of laughing men by the bar.

Enough alcohol had been consumed in the room to give some of Rebecca's coworkers and spouses the confidence to dance. The music was still bad, but it at least had a beat. David and Rebecca watched the dancers with amusement and commented on the worst among them.

"Do you want to dance?"

She hesitated. "I'm not a good dancer," was the excuse she gave.

"Then this is the perfect place to do it." He gestured to their older associates who flapped their arms and shuffled their feet to the heavy bass. A large woman, in a stressed little black dress, swung back and forth, her rolls of fat trying to break loose from their confines on each beat.

She agreed she couldn't be any worse. She hoped Ben would look her way because now she really did want to dance. But he was still at the bar, still laughing and, judging from his stance, almost drunk.

David didn't wait. He took her hand and pulled her out of her seat.

"I don't know╔"

David was dancing and she felt foolish standing still in front of him. She was still lightheaded and happy from the drinks, so she tentatively swayed her body.

David was a good dancer. He had rhythm and he knew actual dance moves. She bravely followed his lead and soon loosened up and enjoyed herself.

Too bad, Ben, she thought.

Her breasts moved freely, rubbing against the inside of her dress. The cool air rushed up her dress and against the bare skin of her buttocks. David watched her and she liked that. She felt flattered and sexy. She checked to see if her co-workers had noticed. They hadn't. They and their spouses were too drunk to care.

As the song ended, David leaned into her. He whispered in her ear, "You look so fantastic."

Rebecca blushed. She returned the compliment, "You're a really good dancer."

He said, "I took some classes."

Rebecca felt a little guilty at how much she was enjoying David's company. She looked over at her husband again. This time, he was watching her. He smiled approvingly, lustily. She gestured for him to come over. Ben shook his head ever so slightly, but kept watching.

The next song was a slow one, by a British boy band with insipid puppy love lyrics. David looked at Rebecca and they both started laughing.

She said, "I guess we can sit this one out, huh?"

"And waste my dance lessons?" he asked. He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers. He stepped forward and put his arm around her, placing a strong hand on the center of her back. Her head came to his chin. He moved forward, at first dragging her with him, but she quickly matched his steps and they swayed slowly. Ben watched and smiled.

Rebecca liked it. David was confident and good. He held her closely to him. His body was warm and firm. Her breasts pressed against him, their legs rubbed with each step. Rebecca's head swam as she leaned into him. His breathing stuttered.

David hand's traveled across her little black dress and down her back, at first only a few inches, then onward to the small. Rebecca's heart beat faster and her skin flushed. His hand kept moving, past her waist and onto her rear. It shook ever so slightly as it did.

"David," she said scoldingly, but also very softly.

His fingernails dug in through the thin material. The sharp sensation mingled with the heat building inside her. She sighed even though she knew this had to stop. David crooked his neck so that his lips brushed Rebecca's ears. He pulled their entwined hands in so that the back of his pressed against her hardening nipple. His other hand inched toward her heat.

"David, stop," she struggled to say, this time louder. He partially obliged and moved his hand off her breast.

"Let's go somewhere," David whispered.

Rebecca was aroused enough that some small part of her thrilled at his words, and all of her was flattered. But she didn't want to go somewhere.

She looked for her husband's reaction, but he was gone. In an instant she was angry. Angry at herself for allowing this to happen, and angry at him for not being there to stop her. He gave her that large drink. He smiled when she and David started slow dancing. Did he enjoy this?

"Hello."

Ben stood behind her. David quickly released Rebecca and stood straight, as if at attention.

"Hello, sir."

"Hey, David. Do you mind if I talk to my wife for a moment?"

"No, sir, not at all, sir."

Ben looked at his wife. She was still angry, that he had waited so long, that her nipples were visible through the fabric of the little black dress, and that she quivered with arousal.

As he led her across the ballroom, she hissed at him under her breath, "How far were you going to let that go?"

Ben said, "I think I just showed you."

She wanted to stay angry. "You're the one who tried to get me drunk."

"Tipsy. I think he likes you. I don't blame him."

Ben led her into the hallway. He then took her down a second, empty corridor. She knew what came next and she wanted it badly. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her against the wall. He put his weight into her and kissed her aggressively. She met his open mouth and swirled her tongue around his. His hard cock pressed against her belly.

Rebecca giggled. "He called you sir."

His grip held her against the wall. He kissed her flushed chest. He asked in a low, ragged voice. "Do you want David to fuck you?"

She answered, "I want you to."

Ben kissed her again. He let go of one wrist and used his hand to pull her left breast out of the little black dress. It felt exquisitely indecent and the air conditioning further hardened her nipple. He dipped his head. He ran the rough softness of his flat tongue over her flesh and then sucked the nipple into his mouth. He bit gently and Rebecca moaned.

She held his head against her and ran her hand through his hair. He pulled up her dress and dragged his fingernails up her thigh, over her short pubic hair and then slid a finger between her legs. She spread for him.

"You're so wet." He guided the finger between her slick, swollen lips and her body tensed at the pleasure. He ran it back and forth. She arched her back so that his palm covered her venus mons.

Rebecca saw movement at the end of the hall. She saw a crescent of dark figure disappear around the corner. She imagined it was David, he was watching and wanting what only Ben could have. That idea drove her lust even higher. She pressed harder against Ben's exploring finger.

"God damn, Becky," Ben muttered, pushing his finger deep inside her. "Let's go upstairs."

"No." She shook her head. "Let's go outside."

--3--

They made themselves presentable, tucking things in and smoothing down her dress before reentering and crossing the ballroom to the French doors. Nothing could be done about her nipples, though. They still tented her dress. And right now, the idea of crossing the ballroom crowded with drunks with them poking out turned her on.

David stood just inside the ballroom door. He looked away quickly when they entered, pretending he hadn't been waiting. That confirmed her suspicion. She smiled at him as she and Ben crossed the room hand in hand.

The night was warm. The fairway was wet and smelled freshly mowed. Rebecca and Ben peered into the darkness.

She spotted a bench tucked into a grove of pines two hundred feet away.

"People can see us there," Ben protested.

"No, they can't," she lied. She thought, unless they're looking.

They ran across the grass. The wrongness of what they were doing and the possibility of being caught by a groundskeeper excited Rebecca even more. When they reached the bench she made him sit down.

She leaned over him and kissed him while her hands unhooked his cummerbund. When she pulled down his pants his glorious, hard shaft sprung up. She was eager to wrap her lips around it, to kneel before him while he watched her obscenely lick it from base to tip.

"What are you doing?" He whispered.

"I'm going to," she paused, "give you fellatio."

"You mean suck my dick?" Even now he teased, trying to get her to say something dirty.

Rebecca answered by kneeling on the wet grass. She placed her hands on Ben's thighs and finally took him between her lips. His breathing deepened. Having him inside her mouth didn't give her a physical release, but it fulfilled a desire. He groaned softly as she enveloped him and wetted his veined skin with saliva.

Ben pushed the front of her little black dress down until her breasts came free. She arched her back to improve his view and access. He fondled them with his rough hands and rolled the nipples between his fingers while she swirled her tongue, making wet barber pole stripes, up his shaft and back down.

Suddenly, Ben pulled back his hands, alert. "What was that?"

Rebecca kept sucking.

"I heard something."

She heard it too, but she said nothing. She also saw movement. Among the pines was a tall, thin body silhouetted by the hotel lights. This was exactly what she had hoped for.

Rebecca pulled him out of her mouth just long enough to say, "You're imagining things."

Rebecca bobbed on her husband's shaft until he relaxed. She squeezed her own breasts and pinched the nipples. It sent jolts of pleasure through her. Partly it was the sensation, mostly it was because she knew two people were watching her do it. She looked at Ben and asked, "Do you like that?"

"Shhhh," he looked around. "Someone will hear us."

She asked, just as loudly, "Do you like how I'm sucking your big cock?" She let the word hang in the air.

"Yes," Ben whispered, his eyes wide in surprise. His dick twitched in her hand.

She returned her mouth to his cock, taking in as much as she could. She kept her breasts pushed up against his tight balls, and his pubic hair tickled her nipples as she went. For the sake of her audience, Rebecca put her whole body into the motion. She reached behind and hiked up her dress to expose her ass.