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Part 4: Sex Sells
by Shayla Pandava This is Part 4 of our ongoing story, Sex Sells. If you missed Parts 1 - 3, they are alive and well and living in our archives. You can look them up and read them there. But til then, here's where we left off last week in Part 3:

["I'm enjoying myself."

"I'm not a bodyguard," he said. He put his arm around my shoulder. "Let's go."

It was all so gentle and caressing, and so... well, sure of itself. He simply had the kind of charm you don't want to say no to. I had started to love the way he seemed to have everything under control. Yet this other dark, beating energy that had taken over the house, this hint of danger and of something wild intoxicated me. And I knew Jim was just trying to get me home safely and get his tip -- not fuck me. So I was about to test Jim's charm to the limits.]

[And now for part 4:]

"We're staying," I told him. I smeared my hand across the belly of a passing serving girl. The straps of her bikini top hung down her arms. When she stopped, she gave me a devilish look and I tossed it back at her. I took two drinks from her tray.

When I handed him his drink, he kissed my hair, "You sure you don't want to go somewhere else for drinks?" he asked.

"Only if you say you'll fuck me after."

He gave me a kind of melted smile.

"I just don't want you to get into anything you'll have to pay for later," Jim said, as I took his hand and led him toward the gathering crowd. "You make a living with these people, right?"

"Those people have gone home," I said. "Now it's time to cut loose." I was smarting from his rejection and I wanted to get myself into trouble with the horny, hungry men who were gathered on the dance floor breathing heavily over half-dressed women. I wanted animal action, partly because he'd made me horny as hell and partly out of spite. I started off down the hall and one of the model/waitresses came up to me, touched me softly on the arm.

"Do you ever let him off his leash?" she asked me nodding towards Jim.

It took me a minute to get what she was saying. "What do you have in mind?" I asked finally.

"The girls have been eyeing him up all night," she said. I had noticed this one, the one who was talking to me, eying him up. Through the night, she had managed to drop in on every conversation he'd had when I wasn't around. In fact, I thought, being as beautiful as she was, she had probably incited the other girls' heat. They would find him hot because this babe found him hot.

"Yeah, he has that effect on women," was all I said.

"Are you up for a little group action?"

I thought to myself that this bitch was rather brazen, but on the other hand, I had this devilish thought. Like, what would he do? Would he spill the beans -- that he was a pro -- it would be against the contract. I could get my money back -- at least in theory. So…

"No, I'm not up for group action," I said.

"Do you mind if we have a go at him?" she said. I had an ornery urge to say no, but instead, I said, "Sure, you can keep him busy for awhile. I didn't care at that moment -- with the music pounding at my ribs, a sweet taste of wine on my tongue, and those pent-up hormones from my attempt to seduce him, from when he was so close as to tuck his cool fingers between the lips of my pussy, with all that and some smooth alcohol stirring up tension just inside my cunt -- raw animal action was the only thing that would cool me off.

"I'd like to go check out some of the other flavors of testosterone around here," I said to the horny vixen.

"Go have a good time," she said. "We'll take good care of him." She was tall, all thin and bone, and what little flesh she had was quite rolling out of her bikini. I had to laugh. Take care of him -- when all played out, who would pay for whom?

I chatted with a young, zealous neophyte in the business world who obviously didn't get it that the business part of the gathering was over. I positioned myself so I could watch both the dance floor and Jim, drink in hand, glancing toward the hallway where I'd left him. And I could also watch the sassy model rounding up her friends.

One of her friends was doing back bends on the dance floor. She was so thin that her pubic mound bulged fatly into the air and made you want to grab it. A second model was pulling the bikini string down the first girl's arms, playing with the little bra-top. Finally, as the girl was backwards and upside down, her smooth legs tight with musculature, the second girl reached underneath the bridge of her back and undid her bra and stripped it off, letting her breasts go free. The girl doing the backbend kind of bounced from the hips to make her tits roll and shimmy. A circle of men gathered around her, nodded to the music, watching. She kept thrusting that cushy mound up into the air. She looked like she wanted to fuck, bad. The guys roared as her breasts danced and her mound rose and fell. The tiniest patch of bikini latex covered her hole -- you could sense all those spears circled around her aiming for the slot. One man tipped his glass over her belly so the brown liquid of his drink dribbled into her navel. Another pawed her skin slowly. The second girl was fondling the tits of the girl doing the back bend when the model who wanted Jim approached them and whispered something as she rubbed the first girl's nipples, caught them between her fingers, and let go with a snap. I wanted to press my fingers into her hole and see how wet she was. The lead model made nodded a signal.

The three of them left the dance floor, leaving a wake of confusion among the men. Some of them attempted to follow, but the model gave them a nasty look, while at the same time, a new girl took the floor. Her hair was lush, long, black. When she did her backbends it swept the floor. Her breasts were fuller than the last girl's and as she shook her shoulders they swayed and heaved against her stretched top. It was just a matter of time before they broke loose. The men standing around got more touchy and grabby.

As I watched their hands, I wanted it to be my body they were groping and kneading, my my plump breasts, my pussy. My nerve endings started to demand the feelings that went with what I saw.

For one second, I glanced back to where Jim had been standing, expecting to see him surrounded by a group of sexy models. But no one was there, neither he nor they. It did not occur to me to panic. He'd become a drag in those last few minutes and I was now horny beyond control. The magnetic pull was coming from the dance floor. Some strange magnetic force was leading me by an invisible leash through my cunt. When I looked back, the new dancer's top had been stripped off. Her breasts were beautifully full and they rolled langorously over her chest. The men handled them firmly; a man squeezed each breast; a third man pinched the ruddy nipples to make them stand. Two men had lifted her up, one by each leg and another had clasped his arms around her waist to hold her firm. The two at her legs spread her legs open. A third man tried to strip off her bikini bottoms. Held by all these men, the girl just let her head drop way back and down, her thick long hair brushing the floor. I could see the sweat gathered between her breasts and rolling down her neck. If it had been me, my skin would be tingling for those men at my crotch to break my pussy out of that tight bikini. The had her legs spread so wide, the bikini bottom was not about to slide down easily for them, and so they tore at it, shearing it away right where her dark cunt split, in a nervous smile. The girl's mouth hung open; I knew she had to be moaning. But the music drowned her out. A red light flashed on and off her skin, making her look searing hot with a demonic lust to be treated like a she-bitch.

I wanted to be on the dance floor, in the middle of those fevered men, letting down my guard, letting them paw me all over, offering up my private holes to their dumb fingers. Such is heat and wine, I guess. But I thought I was only fantasizing.

Until, without so much as a glance to see where my stingy-assed whore was, I found myself unbuttoning all the buttons of my blouse down to the waistline of my skirt, to signal I was for the taking. And I jumped right into the pack, into the thick heat of hardened cock.

In terms of women still on the dance floor, there were three lanky models, one curvy, round-breasted model -- all gorgeous and nearly-naked -- two other horny business girls like myself, one older woman who was dancing bare-breasted, but keeping her business skirt and nylons on. The models all wore spikey heels. The rest of us had on pumps, and we seven ladies were amid about 30 hungry men. Most of the men had their shirt buttons undone and tails out of their pants. A couple of the younger ones were bare-chested. I knew the situation was a little dangerous, a little risky, one that could get out of hand. I thought of the worst that could happen. I didn't care. It was my moment of worst abandon.

[To be continued...]