Sara's Undoing

Awakenings

My head is jerked back to the right again. "We need to go heavy on the eye makeup Essie, smokey eyes get the guys," Tina speaks light heartedly while manual positioning my face as she pleased. I've been in front of this mirror nearly 30 minutes while she goes about her way deciding on the perfect look for this party.

Tina and I have been friends since the moment we met, similar sense of humour, similar choice in fashion and definitely similar taste in men. She calls me Essie due to my fascination with men in suits sometimes being distracting enough to make a fool of me.

Tina was the branch manager of my local bank and I'd gone in to apply for a credit card. I was simply initialing some formalities in a contract when Tina asked my name. Unfortunately however the exact moment she asked was also the exact moment her gorgeous male colleague walked past. Now with an ass that fine in that pinstripe suit, I couldn't focus on breathing let alone answering questions, no matter how simple.

I like to think I answered with my initials S.E.J.

Tina has a different version of the story but fact of the matter is, Essie stuck.

Tina and I from that day on have been inseparable. Besties like you'd have in highschool. But with alcohol. I think what makes Tina and i work so well is I'm submissive to, well, anyone. When Tina talks even in the most happy, easy going voice it's stern enough that most people know they have no choice but to do as they're told.

She's used this voice a lot today.

She used it when she asked me to take her place at a meet and greet party tonight.

"This dress is perfect," that exact tone again rings through my ears. I turned to see Tina standing at my open dresser, a tangle of clothes on the floor beside her. She has paused from the rummaging and was now holding a what appeared to be a scrap from the floor at a seamstresses workshop.

I stared in disbelief, as Tina held the black micro tube dress against her own physique

"You can't possibly expect me to go virtually naked?" I ask in hope she may show some mercy. "Leave me some dignity."

"Nonsense, risque isn't naked. Besides, you'll be the hit of the party. Trust me!" Again I knew arguing would be pointless. "This will be perfect for your figure. Just alluring enough to bait the hook." Tina pleads to me convincingly with a wink. Her sly smile always gets me.

And then she hands me the shoes she picked.

"Stilettos? Stilettos? I won't even be able to walk in these things. Seriously these are not shoes for people. These damn things should be on a stripper." Again I hope she will show some leniency.

"Come on girl, think about it. These babies will make you look even taller and enhance the shape of your legs. It's hard to improve great but with my help men won't be able to tear their eyes from you." Tina's now in full sales rep mode, the gleam in her eye and the smirk across her face showing she's already won.

" They will start at the heels and gaze upward following the lines of your beautiful calves, leading all the way to that luscious ass of yours. They'll be entranced as you walk, watching your hips sway with your strut! Shit they'll be falling over themselves like week old pups gnawin' at the teet!"

Oh! And get a Brazilian!" Tina adds as an afterthought. "Why, in the hell, would I do that. "Nobody's going to be see my naughty bits," I plead trying to avert her one track mind.

"It's not about what they'll see, It's about how you feel. The sexier you feel the sexier you'll be. You'll know what you've got and they'll be chomping the bit for a piece of it!"

"There' no way I would even..." I start before Tina cuts me off. "You might prefer to wax, it lasts longer and looks more complete. Totally worth the pain."

'That may be fun,' I think to myself and a shudder rolls down my spine.

"Baby, pain is a small price, to feel good. You need to go all out. No holes barred! GET the Brazilian." Tina thankfully miss interpreted my line of thought and continues on convincing me. "You've got to have a runway to open the possibilities. And no hose. You have Legs. Don't mask um. You're going to be showing them the whole package tonight."

She could see I was begging to back out. She gives me that look only a mother figure could give, visually asking me if i needed the lecture before the onslaught of her attempts continue. "You never go anywhere. You stay in this house all the time. It's not healthy watching Netflix all day." Tina berates. "And bringing your work home? Go out, have fun, meet new people. For heaven's sake, you are only twenty five. I swear sometimes you act like my grandmother." To me her droaning seemed endless. I rolled my eyes at her hoping she'd notice and maybe back off even a little but Tina stuck to her guns. "Plus, the tickets are nonrefundable. I'm clearly sick and can't go, so you have to do this for me."

Hours of traumatic begging, poking, prodding, more begging and a trip to the salon for a wax that did more for me than simple hair removal, I take a moment to admire myself. The image in the full length mirror before me leaves me speechless. I can't believe what I'm seeing. 'Is it really me' I think to myself as I run my hand down my curvy frame.

Damn, this dress is short, I shift while staring in the mirror, feeling the fabric caressing my skin. It's thin lines concealing practically nothing. And excessively low v cut neckline showing ample cleavage from my 38DD breasts. Completely commando to avoid underwear lines, the faint outline if my button nipples visible through the thin material.

I feel more than a little exposed.

More than a little excited.

"What did that girl talk me into?" I speak aloud although Tina has left already.

I can envision the Dinner Exposé in tomorrow's headlines, The Unveiling, Young woman flashes the crowd with a garment malfunction. Entree served, tender white breasts, with a dash of blush. I chuckle at my own mocking.

I try pulling the skimpy little thing Tina calls a dress up in the front and down in the back with no success. I quit my struggle and turn to get a good look at the curvature this mini magnifies. 'Tina was right, my ass does look hot in her little dress,' I think to myself aloud.

The stitched pattern across the bust and front of the dress camouflage my little podgy belly so as it appears it's not there. The tightness holding it in making my already large tits appear larger and my shapely ass pop. Although I'm scared as hell to be seen in public wearing this attire I feel the most sexy I've felt in years.

How in the Hell did I let Tina talk me into this? "This is foolish," Nothing good could possibly come from me going to this stupid party.

I look up at myself and realize, "I'm talking myself out of going."

I grab my keys, before I end up changing my mind. And my clothes.

'I feel ridiculous wearing this,' the self doubt prevalent in my mind. As if a sign from above, the wind hits me just right making me very aware of the situation I've gotten myself into. I am practically naked. Very exposed. A mile out of my comfort zone, sore from my waxing session and very very horny.

'How am I turned on by this?' I vocalise my conflicting thoughts. 'I work in a publishing office for Christ's sakes! I'm as low key as they come. I never wear make up. Most of my clothes as casual as a trip to the lake. I try to keep it as comfy as possible while looking nice, nothing like this. Why am I still going through with this. Why am I so compelled to take this chance.' My thoughts can't be silenced.

With my medium frame, and below average height, 5'1, most dresses are long on me. I take one last glance in the mirror. 'What was Tina thinking? This is entirely too much skin. Fuck me. I can't go out like this.' That seed of doubt ever growing in my mind.

"Shit!" if I back out now? I'll never hear the end of it.

Tina's words keep playing back in my mind like a rolodex. "You are a young beautiful Vixen. Live dangerous if only for a night." Recalling her words at will in an attempt to calm my nerves.

I get into my rusty old Camaro and my ass is sticking to the leather seats. This little piece of fabric is riding up again. I grab the ticket from the visor and glance at it. It reminds me of golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory.

"That bitch," I cuss.

I couldn't believe what I had just read. I had to look twice just to make sure. Yep, in big bold print.

Sara Johnson.

"Sick my Ass," I swear under my breath. She's planned this from the start. My anxieties and nerves smothered by anger and frustration. 'Just wait until I talk to her.'

I start my car and drive head towards the outer suburbs, cursing and plotting my revenge as I drive. 25 minutes later I pull up to the drive and check the ticket twice to make sure I'm at the right place.

A man waiting at the door of the guardhouse beckons for me to roll down my window. I comply and show him my ticket while asking if I'm in the right place. The guard nods yes and with short stern answers he instructs me where to park before opening the automatic gate remotely. The exclusivity of this place blowing my mind.

I get out of my car and just stand there. "Holy Hell!" I mutter under my breath. This is a freaking mansion. The ticket read Palais D'amour but for the life of me I didn't think they'd actually mean a palace. When I was pulled into the driveway and saw the guard house I knew this place would be fancy, but from there the dwelling was hidden behind a shroud of towering trees that lined the 8 foot stone fence. The bend in the driveway immediately after you proceed through the attended iron gates conceals it from passing eyes even where the barrier is permeable.

The grandness of the manor didn't really sink in until I was standing at the foot of the stairs, white marble flayed design that led to a piered gloss white landing. Enormous oak double doors like that of an ancient castle complete with brass lion's head knocker, makes even more apparent entry is through invite only. I take a deep breath and exhale. "HELL," I'm nervous already and I haven't even made it inside.

The outside of the house is all cut sandstone brick giving the look of something from a Dracula movie set. Several towers with high peaks rest on both sides. It has everything but the moat.

'I'd hate to foot the bill for the gardener,' I think to myself. I have no idea what any of these plants are even though I would like to think I have somewhat of a green thumb. All of these look exotic, maybe imported from South America.

My admiration of the gardens cut to an abrupt end when my phone rang.

~"Girls just wanna have fun." ~

My phone belts out the Cyndi Lauper classic I have set up for Tina. "You have some major explaining to do!" I answer immediately jumping down the phone at her. "You bitch, you had this all planned out. My name, in big bold print on this damn ticket. I knew you weren't sick." Tina giggling back down the line the only response she gives. All this did was prove my suspicions correct.

"Are you there yet?" Tina finally manages through stifling laughter. Sarcastically I inform that yes I had and although I'm more than impressed by the place I'm still peeved with her. Lamely Tina replies "I had to lie to you. You would have never went otherwise. I'm just making sure you didn't back out. Now get your sexy ass in there and live a little."

"You are off the hook for now, but if I have to listen to anyone chewing loudly I am kicking your ass." I end the call abruptly without waiting for a response still entirely unsure what the night entailed.

As I tuck my phone back into my clutch I look back to the ancient doors and am startled to see a very handsome well built butler had manifested before me. Easily 6"4' he would tower over me but given his vantage point at the top of the stairs and military style buzz cut he appeared monstrous. His light hair, not blond but not quite brown either, accents his grim facial expression making him more daunting than welcoming, the scar on his left cheek the icing on the scary cake.

Our eyes meet, and I feel his piercing gaze burning right through me as if he can see my soul. He is wearing a tailored suit that hugs his broad chest. 'What is it about a man in a quality suit?' sexual thoughts rampant despite how scary his first impression on me is. He looks dark and mysterious, like he could work for the CIA instead of a butler. "This way madam." His voice deep and booming exactly as I had expected it to be, the only surprise to it, an accent I can't quite place. He bows and waits for me to reach the landing, my eyes wandering over his physique as I teeter carefully up the stairs, cautiously as I'm not used to high heels let alone stripper heels.

I was right, easily a foot and a half taller than me, maybe more, I feel tiny standing beside him. "May I have your ticket?" The butler asks holding his hand out to me. The ticket looks so little in his masculine hands.

"This way mamm'," his voice vibrating through my chest like a subwoofer even though he spoke quietly.

"Also before you join the others I need to place a name tag. Women, men, or both?"

I find this an odd question, but don't think too much of it. Probably just seating arrangements. I fill out my name tag and tell him, "Either one is fine with me."

He smirks at my response the only sign of humour he's portrayed and pulls out a red ribbon. With his great care not to touch my body he pins it to my already attached name tag.

What's on the inside

I'm taken aback by the majesty of this the grand foyer as I step through the door. Elegant paintings of nude or scantily clad people line every wall. The most magnificent glass chandelier, thirty feet from the ground floods the room with a warm glow. There are two sets of stairs that join at the bottom, widening at their bases. They contour down with an even curve encompassing a beautiful water fountain with a cherub spurting water from his penis. 'Who the hell lives here' I think, curiosity growing inside me once more.

"This way madam" the sexy version of Lurch beckons. I never caught his name so I feel sexy lurch is fitting. He escorts me across the hall like foyer to an unnoticed door, the subtle entryway to a huge ball room.

My stripper heels click on the tan marble flooring as I follow compliantly, the acoustics of the room amplifying the sound of each step due to the high ceiling. I was slightly disappointed I wouldn't be able to enjoy the view from the balcony but a pleasant surprise was still in store.

On one wall of what appeared to be the ball room, there are three very large arched windows. "What an incredible architectural marvel," I let slip as I gawk open mouthed at my surroundings. I then notice several men and women standing around chatting, drinking cocktails, many of whom I'd assume were other invitees, but I still looked through the faces for a clue as to who the person that calls this mansion home.

Startled like being flashed with a bright light in the pitch black dark I begin to notice the other things occupying the room. There are three beds placed randomly throughout. 'Unusual to see in a room setup for dancing and dining' my internal dialogue. Several bench style couches filled spaces along walls, some occupied by fellow partygoers chatting idly while awaiting for the evening to commence. The strangest thing though. A long wooden table that could easily place for twenty people, dead centre of the room but not one single dining chair. 'Maybe they will serve us standing,' mentally trying to work out how this would work as a dinner party.

Unprovoked, a man holding two glasses struts over and stands next to me. Sexy lurch has vanished silently while I was mesmerised by my surroundings. He casually extends one of the glasses to me. "Gin and Tonic, I hope you don't mind me getting you a drink. I noticed you didn't have one. You are obviously new here." The stranger speaking matter of factly, statements as opposed to questions.

Caught off guard, I'm unable to vocalise a reply instead smiling at him and accepting the drink he presented me with.

"Let me introduce myself, I'm Chris. I come to all of SirRethlake's parties. Is this your first one?" I notice Chris isn't much taller than me with a decent build. Not built like the monstrous butler but definitely takes pride in his appearance to the point of putting in several hours at the gym.

"I'm Sara, and yes this is my first time." I reply courteously although unsure of expected social etiquette while I sway back and forth on my feet nervously. I'm not sure of the protocol here, my logic driven mind determined to depict what my next move should be. 'Do I shake his hand?' 'Give him a hug?' 'Focus girl,' I pull myself up. "Nice to meet you," I offer as my hand naturally protrudes to shake Chriss's.

I'm about to retract my hand from this pleasant handshake when the sexiest man I've ever seen taps on his Glass and begins to speak "Thank You all for coming out this evening. I hope you all enjoy the party." Lost in my thoughts I'm left mindlessly shaking hands with Chris who'd now become concerned with my vacantness. "A bucket with numbers will be passed around and we will take off from there." the gorgeous speaker continues through my awkwardness. "Oh, may I remind you all, only pick a number that's colour matches your ribbon."

I almost didn't hear a word he said, too busy ogling over him, almost as embarrassing as the bank epidemic. In my defence he is gorgeous. He has it all, tall, muscular, pouty lips, hazel eyes, the strong jawline and a crooked nose that some would say is a flaw. To me, it adds character to this sexy mysterious man who is now taking a number from a small silver bucket.

The bucket gets passed to Chris by another well dressed middle aged man. He digs briefly for a pink number before handing it to me. "Let's hope you pick number eleven," he chuckles pleasantly as I reach my hand in to pick a folded piece of paper. I open it up and see the number seven.

A beautiful woman walks up to Chris and kisses him on the cheek. "I've never seen so many beautiful people in one room before," the words slipping out before I could stop from embarrassing myself further. "I'll take that as a compliment," the blonde bombshell smiles, "I'm Samantha, I see you've already met my good friend Chris. Her golden hair reflects off the long sequined red dress. An upper thigh high slit showing off her long toned legs. "Hey, Samantha, what number do you have?" Chris asks giving her a big cheesy grin. She looks me up and down before saying "seven."

"Seven? I have seven." I say to her holding up my number with a little too much gusto. A natural reaction when I feel intimidated standing next to someone as gorgeous as Samantha. Like a fool I stand there holding out my piece of paper for her to see.

"Nice, but have you ever been with a women?" At first I don't understand what she is asking me then I look around and see everyone pairing up.

My mind screams out, 'oh shit,' so loud my thoughts may have been heard. Everyone is making out. Men and women, men with men, women with women everyone kissing and exploring each others bodies.

I look up at Samantha and realize what she's meant. I'm in complete shock. What in the hell is Tina involved in. "Is this a swinger party?" I ask.

"By the look on your face I can tell you weren't expecting this." Samantha laughs slyly. She takes me by the hand and leads me to one of the empty couches along the eastern wall opposite where I'd entered. As we crossed the floor my eyes scanned the room. People already naked and making love are sprawled throughout. Chris and another younger man sat together, watching and enjoying the show provided by a blue haired man and a busty red haired woman.