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Her name was Heather Maxwell. She had gorgeous blond locks and the brightest baby blues ever to look my way. I was crushing on her hard. Like a sparkling sunset on a calm ocean, she only showed her face once a day at the most, but it was always a sight to behold. Yes, we worked in the same building, but I was always too busy in my cubicle balancing spreadsheets and proofreading ledgers to venture by the editors’ room all that often. She was one of the best editors the magazine had too, which put her leagues above me. Besides, I did not even know if she was into women or not. And if she was, why would she go for a lowly desk jockey with short hair and horrible fashion taste. Seriously, my fashion taste was simply atrocious, which might be why I was left with the accounting work since this was a fashion magazine. It’s not like I’m butch or anything. In fact, I have always been rather petite. My cup size was small little As at most, my hair was short because I never knew what to do with it long, I wore dorky glasses, and I typically dressed for comfort more than anything else. I’m not a tomboy but certainly not a girly-girl either. Most days I wore a pant suit. As much as I loved skirts, they looked better on other women than on myself. I tried to offset this with light pink lipstick sometimes, but I don’t think that ever worked.
Today was a bit relaxed for everyone though. There was cake out and everyone was getting ready to celebrate Samantha’s upcoming wedding. Samantha was the head editor of the magazine, and she also happened to be my old college roommate. She was always a great friend and, when she found out I had fallen on some tough times with my finances—student loans will do that to a girl—she was more than happy to put in a good word here with the higher ups. I was actually serving as her maid of honor in the wedding, despite my reluctance. What did I know about weddings? I never planned to have one, considering when I was growing up you simply didn’t hear of two women getting hitched. I suppose it was possible now, but still, it had never been something programmed into me like it was with so many other girls. Nonetheless, I was her best friend, so I had to woman up and get the job done. She had found a great guy and needed my help with making their ceremony into something special.
“Mm, this is excellent cake,” said Julie, one of my fellow cubicle mates, from across the way as she munched down.
“Very much so,” echoed Jimmy, another one of us. “You baked this, right, Jenny?”
“Sure did!” I answered. I knew chocolate was Samantha’s favorite.
All of a sudden I felt soft arms wrap around me from behind. It was Samantha giving me a warm hug. “Thanks for the cake, hun. I can only hope the bakery does half as good a job with the actual wedding cake.”
“I’m sure they will,” I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable as I felt Samantha’s bosom press against the nape of my neck. She was always far more endowed than most, quite similar to Heather. She knew I was both envious of them and infatuated by them, and she would often tease me about it. As close of friends as we were, she could be rather annoying in that way. She had found out my preference early in college when she walked in on me with my girlfriend at the time. Ever since then, she made it a point to tease me with little flirtations. It was fun at first, but quickly became grating. Like teasing a mouse with a piece of cheese it can never have.
“Very yummy indeed, Jen,” said another familiar voice. I turned to see that it came from Heather who had been slipping her tongue out to delicately slide a piece of cake off her fork, between her lips, and into that sexy mouth of hers. Well, I am certain it was far more mundane than that. My imagination may have concocted some of that. But I swear, the way that woman ate a piece of cake was in itself a miracle to see. Needless to say, she turned my head, arousing a blush to my cheeks that would leave them lightly stained for the rest of the day. “You should cook more often. I’d love to taste more of what you can do,” she added before walking away. Was she flirting with me? That had done me in. The sunset had blessed me a second time that day and I wouldn’t soon forget it. That’s what crushing does, I suppose. Just that tiny amount of attention set my heart a-flutter.
It was not long after that that Samantha announced that all the women of the office were invited out this Friday, just two days from now, to a night on the town at her expense. It would be a sort of hen party with booze, bar hopping, dancing, the works. I had a duty to go, being her maid of honor, but I really didn’t look forward to it until I heard that Heather had confirmed her attendance too. I went home to my apartment that evening fantasizing about her. She was in every thought to cross my mind, and my thoughts were whether mundane on average. But part of me was a bag of knots too. This was the rational part that said, “Jenny, what’s casino siteleri it matter? You will spend the entire night avoiding her just like you do at the office. Stop getting your hopes up, silly girl.” I had to concede that this was probably the part of me that was correct too, which was why when the day finally came, I did not really spend much time fixing myself up.
That rationale part of me did not stop me from indulging a little though. I lay in bed all night thinking of the way her tongue had wrapped around that piece of cake, and the way her ruby red lips parted for it, as if kissing the sweet deeply. I have to admit that I got a little carried away with my thoughts. I slipped a hand down the front of my panties, legs spread, and began to touch myself while thinking of her. My pointer and middle fingers parted my folds to squeeze and tease my hardening clit as I imagined her lips and tongue doing to it what they had done to that piece of cake. It was not long before I was writhing beneath my covers in sweet orgasmic bliss.
“Nice outfit, Jen” Samantha said with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. She was never one to hold back.
“Yeah, sorry. Should have put more work into it I guess,” I replied. The day had come and we were all out at our first stop: a new, premier club called Black Jet d’Eau, which was really just a bastardization of the name of a famous fountain in Switzerland in a poor attempt to sound hot and fresh. And there I was, leaning against the bar, wearing a silly light pink plaid shirt tucked beneath a soft black four-panel skirt. The skirt had been a last minute addition to try and dress up at least a little after finding out some of the places we would be hitting—I had originally planned just a pair of tight jeans in all honesty. Samantha really wanted to live it up tonight it seemed.
“Yeah, well, only you could pull something like that off, sweetie,” she giggled, rocking her tight black dress and somehow keeping from looking too silly with the bridal veil on her crown. “I don’t think I would ever look good in something like that.”
I did not know whether to take this as a compliment or a veiled insult. Knowing Samantha, it was probably both.
“I’m gonna join the others on the dance floor. You should come,” she added, but departed before I could even respond. I just continued to sit there on my stool, though, sipping my Tequila Sunrise and watching the girls have fun. Heather was out there with them. They all danced with one another and a few had even paired off with guys they had just met. Heather was one of those few, in fact, bumping and grinding with some tall man with dark hair. It was heartbreaking to watch, confirming my fears for some time that she was straight as an arrow. That killed my mood for fun before it could even strike. So, the entire time we were there, I just sit at the bar sipping my drink, trying to pretend that was not Heather.
After a couple of hours there, we all piled into the limo Samantha had rented and headed to the next location. There were eight of us total, so the limo was kind of crowded. Enough that we had to sit hip to hip. Samantha cracked open some Champaign and passed it around as I squirmed uncomfortably having been forced to sit directly across from Heather. She was the most beautiful creature there, and so help me, despite having my heart trampled back in the club, I still wanted her. Her long, smooth legs taunted me as they crossed one over the other. Like Samantha, she wore a tight black dress, but she coupled this with black sheer stockings leading up to what had to be heaven itself, and a V-neck dipping low into mountains of soft flesh that I so desperately wanted to get lost in.
“Having fun, ladies?” Samantha called out.
“Yeah!” A symphony of cheers responded. Already, some of the ladies seemed to be slurring their words. It was clear that tonight would be wild for many of them, especially since almost all of them were single themselves. That was one thing that made me feel a little better about myself.
The second club was very much the same as the first. This one was, however, an old dog. It was called simply Hot Beatz and had a suffocating 90s theme. I was into my third drink by the time Samantha once again came over and took a seat next to me.
“C’mon! Why are you being such a wall flower, babe?”
“Sorry, Sam. I just don’t know if I have the energy. Worn out from work and all,” I replied.
“Look, I get it. I’ve been busting your rump all this time making you handle my wedding planning,” she admitted. It was nice that she could realize that, but it was hardly the issue. I didn’t mind helping her.
“That’s not it,” I said, twisting in my seat to look back toward the dance floor. “It’s just, you’re getting married and I’m stuck here single as always. It’s just like back in college. Every week you seemed to have a new boyfriend, and I couldn’t get any attention from anyone,” slot oyna I sighed. It was easy to be honest with her. I had broken up with my girlfriend not long after Samantha had caught us together. I still do not know what happened. I thought we were in love. But she just stopped coming around and started to ignore my calls. It was like she became a different person. If Samantha had not been there to be a shoulder to cry on, I think I would have went mad. Needless to say, I had been single ever since.
Samantha bit her right cheek in a bit of a concerned pout, then leaned in and patted my knee. “Just get out there, Jen. I know some lucky girl is waiting eagerly for her chance. Trust me.” There was an edge to her tone, though. Something I could not quite put my finger on. Something telling. Then, just like before, she hopped from her seat and quickly made her way back out to the dance floor, swaying to the music, arms in the air. The crowd seemed to swallow her whole before my eyes.
“The hell with it,” I muttered, downed the last bit of my drink, and then made my way out to the dance floor. It might have been the alcohol loosening me up a bit by that point, and likely was, but I felt that I deserved a serious slap in the face for being such a downer. So what if my crush was straight? So what if my best friend was settling down before me? I could still have fun, damn it!
I was quickly swallowed by the crowd just like Samantha, losing myself in the ocean of bodies dancing to bad 90s pop. I honestly think it might have been “The Thong Song,” but thankfully it was hard to focus on the music with all the cheering from the bride-to-be’s direction. As I made my way toward them, a guy tried to dance up on me, pressing himself right up into my space and even putting his hands on my hips. I rolled my eyes and escaped between two other swaying bodies, both women with whom he seemed happy to forfeit his time with me to be with. This freed me to join the others, or so I thought.
No sooner had I escaped this stranger did I encounter another just like him. This one was dressed a bit odd. He had on a strange little red bow tie like he was trying to be some sort of hipster but failing miserably. So, in other words, he was a hipster. And he was even more forward, grabbing my hips tightly and pulling me back against him as he danced. I could actually feel his erection poking me. I think he honestly expected me to just bend over then and there. I was horrified, but not very much surprised since this was what most the people had been doing out here. I just wanted to find my group and dance with them. I had no intentions to do any sort of dirty dancing here—at least not with a guy. But even as I tried to pull away, he seemed to not get that picture. Worse, even, was that one of his hands started to slide down my backside, cupping my ass. I turned instantly and slapped him. His eyes lit up in anger as he stared at me ready to lay some obscene curse on me for daring to not grind against him.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” a voice sliced the space between us. I turned to see it was Heather. She looked at the man with a smile and continued, “sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to my friend here. I’m sure she would love to dance with you another time.” She shot him a sarcastic grin, grabbed my hand, and dragged me away before the guy could react. I was in total awe of how well she handled the situation, and total shock at the fact she had just mysteriously appeared and rescued me. I looked up at her when we stopped, but she was craning her neck to peer around me, no doubt double checking to make sure the man had not followed us. I assumed he had not since she then turned her attention to me.
“You need to be more careful. Some of the guys have had a bit too much to drink.” I refrained from telling her that I probably have as well.
Assured we were away from him, she started to dance and, out of instinct, I followed her movements. I noticed we were away from the rest of our group still though. “Thanks for coming to my rescue back there,” I said, a little embarrassed to have had to be rescued in the first place.
She didn’t say anything else though. Instead, she danced, just as she had been doing all night. I was starting to understand the kind of woman she was. And it was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. This was just a natural thing for her. Her body seemed to flow with the music in a way that put all others to shame. Her curves accentuated each beat, her blond locks bounced up like vapor rising with the heat of the dance floor, and her hands, those soft finger tips, as I quickly realized, had not left me. Even though we were safely away from the drunken buffoon, she had continued to hold me, had in fact pulled me closer to her without me even noticing at first. That beautiful sunset that I only saw once a day was now touching me, burning me, and consuming me. Her hands slid up my arms, beckoning me to sway canlı casino siteleri with her as they came to rest, locked together, around my neck, her own arms draped on my shoulders. I took the chance. I grabbed her hips and pulled closer still until our bodies kissed, my skirt rustling against her dress. It was amazing. I wished that she would have looked down at me, would have met my gaze and returned it, but she seemed very much in her own world. One of the things that always pushed me over the edge when I fantasized about her was imagining her baby blues staring back at me, staring deep into my soul as we embraced, as she touched me, as she kissed me, fingered me, ate me out, did everything my mind could think of to me. But I did not get that gaze. Not in that moment.
It didn’t matter. This was still a dream come true. I was dancing with her. With Heather. The most beautiful, sexy, amazing woman I had ever known. I could feel her hips moving against my own, her left leg sliding softly between my thighs, her ample bosom pressing to my modest chest. I forgot all about her dancing with the men from earlier this evening and focused only on this moment. I wanted to push things a little though. See how far she would go. So I slid my hands around and cupped her ass through her dress. She reacted perfectly by arching her body back against my hands and pressing into me all at once. This angel had a certain wicked streak and I was eating it up.
This tight together, I could actually feel her upper thigh rubbing against my mound. It pressed the cloth of my skirt up against me, so, sadly, I had that and the white and pink silk panties beneath blocking me from the skin on skin contact I was craving. But it was still enough to make me squirm against her. And that is exactly what I did. I squirmed. Helpless to my lust. She must have known by this just how I felt toward her, and it would have been beyond embarrassing if not for the fact that she pressed, apparently deliberately, even harder against me. I was blushing up a storm. This goddess could no doubt feel my arousal against her leg, and she was indulging it. Purposefully creating friction as she danced with me. My hands dug into her ass cheeks tighter and I let out a whimper in her ear. “Heather,” I whispered in bated breath, but she did not reply. Not with any words, anyway. She, instead, slid her own hands down to my hips. Their presence there elicited a thrill through me. She squeezed and guided my now rolling hips up and down her thigh. I took this as the final sign that she not only knew what she was doing but was as into it as I was. I tugged the back of her dress up, not even thinking about others seeing, and gripped her bottom directly through her panties.
I must admit that I was curious what kind of panties she had worn tonight. I often wonder this. Lingerie was simply a weakness of mine. I was not disappointed either when I felt the lacey undergarments that so delicately molded to her round bottom.
I wanted to return the pleasure. Since I was the shorter of us, I had to actually hike my leg a little to slide it high enough between hers to touch her. She was hot down there. Just as hot and wet as I was it seemed, and she was just as happy to grind herself back against my leg as I was hers. If people had not been too busy with their own dancing, they might have noticed that our dancing had devolved into what amounted to dry humping—only it was anything but dry. She was definitely the leader though, using her firm grip on my hips to decide the pace. She would drag me toward her and push me away. I did not have to grind. She was grinding me on her herself. I wanted to kiss her now, but every time I made the attempt, she would move her head to the side, leaving me breathing hotly into her ear. She moaned in mine in return. It was the sound of celestial bodies. And it made me melt. “Heather,” I whispered again, feeling her pushing me close to the edge. I was, in fact, trembling like a weak, wilting flower buffeted by a strong gale. A moment longer and I would be screaming her name right in the middle of everything.
She must have sensed this, because she pulled away. I wanted to cry out for more but managed to bite my lip instead. She finally looked in my eyes as she backed up. There was a wicked smirk on her lips, like she had enjoyed every bit of what she was doing but perhaps not for the same reasons as me. A smirk like she knew that my very soul yearned for it, and it was that that got her off. A smirk like she knew, even if she used me, I would let her. And I would. “I’ve got to hit the ladies’ room. Wait for me. I’ll be back,” she said breaking her silence. And then she was gone. I wanted to follow her. I wanted badly to live out the fantasy to its fullest. But she had told me to wait, and I was powerless to her request. So I continued to dance a little, feeling a bit carte blanche now that I had come so close.
That feeling dissipated as I realized she was not coming back.
The next time I saw her was when Samantha had gathered us all up again and we were piling into the limo to hit the third and final club for the night. She, again, was seated directly across from me.
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