Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One (67 page)

“
You and me both,” Dean
heartily averred, tweaking the faint dimple on her left
tit.

Emma beamed at his presentation. He was
dashingly handsome in the dark jade suit and pinstriped white
shirt, its broad collar embellished by fancy curlicues of
threadwork. They had chosen the ensemble together, though she had
been unable to dissuade him from wearing the novelty tie patterned
with little drumsticks Manassa had found.

Next to him Mark inhabited a long black suit
jacket and shirt of darkest crimson. His tie was silver with tiny
pink circles, pinned by a metal orb. His shoes gleamed darkly. Emma
knew he would the most desirable male at the party. She was
counting on it, in fact.

Manassa was last to arrive, skipped up from
the basement with a basket of complimentary jewelry under one arm.
Emma heard both men sigh.

Her stupendous curves were jealously confined
by a sweeping red and white dress. Its knee-high hemline offered
her massive, white-stockinged calves to view. Emma stared at the
bulging hillocks of breast flesh on display above her tapered
bodice, traced the dramatic breadth of her hips under soft linen.
Her lustrous black hair was gathered by a red bow at one side and
ruby rings glittered on her fingers. She wore red high heels that
casually rendered her the tallest person in the room. Emma wanted
to compliment her but tumbled on the usual superlatives and simply
gawked with the rest.

“
All ready,” the big woman
cheerfully announced, setting the basket down next to a crate of
tattles Ione provided. Every guest would leave with one of the
little sex toys, which she mentioned were an obsession with the
Gnomon for some reason.

“
The doormen are in
position,” Dean confirmed. He had engaged a small army of
trustworthy buddies from his former place of employment to man the
entrance and referee the drinking contest that would be taking
place.

Mark stepped over to a small platform, tugged
a chain and a gnome spun him smoothly up to the elaborate gridwork
hovering over the atrium. A moment later the high-intensity light
emanating from their utility gnome was banished to reveal a
wonderland of colorful territories. The warehouse began to resonate
with slurred echoes as Dean thumbed the throw gnomes into operation
and sat behind his drum set.

“
This is crazy,” one of the
servers gaped. Emma had secured the help of a quix of women from
taverns she frequented in her off time. They were set up at the bar
lining one side of the chamber.

“
Fuck
me
,” breathed another one in
agreement.

“
Definitely. Wait till you
see the whole program in effect,” Emma tantalized. “Everyone
remember the rules?”

“
Four mixed drinks or pure
stillwater shots to remove your dress, two each for jacket or
pants, three for a bra or shirt and five to lose your underwear,”
they chorused. “One drink token to be dropped into every
glass.”

“
Right,” Emma confirmed,
checking their identical green dresses to verify they were clearly
identifiable as house personnel. “Make sure you follow the
protocol!”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, wondering
when the first people would arrive. They had arranged things such
that no one besides their handpicked crew knew the exact location
of the party in advance; the guests would report to three different
bars in the general vicinity, checked by doormen in their employ
there to ensure they met the dress standard enforced by the
mannermen near the warehouse, then dispatched in small groups to
the entrance on the shadow-cloaked side of the building. The heavy
flow of pedestrian traffic around the park perimeter at sunset
would hopefully camouflage their arrival.

The windows had been carefully soundproofed
by thick quantities of blankets culled from the mountainous supply
available in the basement and they had already verified that
nothing could be heard or seen outside the warehouse.

“
Time for the final
rundown,” Ione said, producing a sheet of paper with an unordered
series of one-word task descriptions. She called them out to
confirm everything was in readiness.

“
Guests arriving!” the head
doorman shouted from the acoustically isolated receiving vestibule
they had constructed, then shut the inner portal so the exterior
entrance could be unbarred.

“
It’s a couple of my Tower
friends,” Ione said when the first revelers emerged a moment later.
Emma snickered to herself, guessing the Gnomon’s employees had
little concept of fashionable untimeliness, then suppressed her
cynicism; she would need it for some “friends” of her own that were
coming later.

“
Dean! Kick it up!” she
called.

The blond musician grinned and blew Emma a
kiss. His kit began to issue anticipatory licks and accents as the
vestibule disgorged a dox of new guests to the warehouse.

“
Hey, beautiful!” Emma
called to an acquaintance from her apartment complex. They chatted
for a moment and she introduced the woman to her friends, then the
vestibule opened again and more greetings and presentations
ensued.

“
Wow,” said a work friend of
Manassa’s named Kira they all adored. “This is just…” she shook her
head, lacking words to adequately convey her impression of the
scene.

Emma gave her a kiss and gestured to the bar.
“There’s a kinky pink waitin’ for ya, darling!” she offered,
remembering she liked cranberry.

Mark stepped near to backslap a couple of
good-time guys he knew from Dean’s old place. His friends were
legion, easily rivaling her own in quantity, and were certain to
attend. “Well, I guess we’re committed now,” he murmured in
excitement to Emma as the atrium floor was rapidly populated by
well-dressed guests. Servers were getting drinks into their hands
with brisk efficiency though no one had as yet presented enough
tokens to one of the roving doormen to lose an article of
clothing.

The vestibule opened to admit a clot of new
revelers. “So far so good,” Emma decided, impudently squeezing
Mark’s ass as she stepped forth to greet a friendly socialite from
another club. “Your dress is fantastic!” she exclaimed, was
complimented on her own regalia in return.

She was lost in a dizzy procession of
incoming guests for a term, and when she turned to regard the dance
floor again a dox or trix of men had lost their jackets. Two
hard-drinking women had even escaped their dresses. Ione swept up
to her.

“
It’s a party alright,” she
grinned. “Let’s drink.”

Emma kissed her. “About time!” They had
agreed to hold off till the event was well established.

Mark strode over trailing a stream of
infatuated women. “Look at all this vagina,” he exulted to Emma.
“Can we drink yet?”

She laughed. “Yeah. I’ll get us fixed. You
track the crack.” She threaded her way over to the bar and
requested a handful of drinks. On the way back she stopped to give
Dean two shots and a still and mint.

“
Time to break out a beat?”
he inquired, draining both shots and pocketing the
tokens.

“
Yep.”

“
Cool. Get Mark and his
friends to swing me.”

The drum bandstand was hung just off the
floor by thick chains suspended from the girders. Mark and a
handful of his bigger pals got on one side and pushed it forward as
startled guests made way. It pendulated back and they pushed even
harder on the return. Emma jumped on the clear margin at the
perimeter, one hand gripping a chain for support.

“
Hit it!” she screamed as
the bandstand whooshed grandly forth again.

Dean abandoned his so far rhythmless stylings
to initiate a regular thump on the kick drum. The throw gnomes
ranged about his drums amplified the sound to shudder about the
warehouse. A cry rose among the drinkers, and many saluted the tall
musician. Their noise was returned to them in installments from the
gnomes to reverberate woozily about the atrium. There were already
several sex of people in attendance.

Mark joined her on the bandstand. He had
already lost his jacket. As she watched he purchased freedom from
his shirt, baring the rippling musculature of his upper body. Emma
threw back a shot, took a peach stillwater from a server and
emptied it in one long draught. She palmed her accumulated tokens
to a doorman as the bandstand swung by and shrugged out of her
dress, exciting a crowd of partiers to cheer her exposure.

“
Who wants to fuck?” Mark
tipsily boomed into a throw gnome’s ear. Many women offered
themselves, but no one was yet naked enough. “Then drink,
slippers!” he roared. Dean punctuated this command with a
thunderous roll on the toms.

Ione swung onto the bandstand at its apogee,
joining them.

“
Any word from the walkers?”
Emma shouted. They had two people strolling the environs of the
warehouse at all times, ready to report any special interest or
activity by the mannermen. Ione shook her head to Emma’s
relief.

“
Weather holding up?” she
asked.

“
Lotta storm clouds, but
we’re okay for now,” her companion replied. The possibility of rain
had been their other great concern. Emma knew that it could still
happen, but the warehouse was already packed with celebrants who
wouldn’t care at this point.

“
Cheater!” someone screamed,
pointing to a woman running naked. Emma laughed hysterically as the
offender was chased down by the doormen and stuffed into an
exquisitely frumpy ensemble she would have to drink her way out of.
Dean beat out a rousing, raunchy accompaniment to this procedure,
which struck Emma as vaguely mannermanlike in character.

She slammed another drink, already soused,
took the token and whirled her bra into the crowd. Hands reached in
a wave to feel her tits as she hurtled by. She saw Manassa over by
the ramp, surrounded by a dense knot of people helping the big
woman remove her dress. Emma stared with unabashed longing as her
great, red-pantied hips were revealed, then the packed globes of
her brassiere, determined to get her lips on the woman’s
incomparable flesh that night.

“
I did it!” one of Ione’s
prettier work friends shrieked, spinning naked about the crowd. She
looked very drunk, totally in communion with herself. A cheer went
up and Dean accelerated the tempo to emphasize the accomplishment.
Emma felt a distinct shift in the crowd’s energy as sex was
abruptly established as a feasible proposition. Mark had drunk his
way at heroic velocity to near-nakedness, and Emma watched him
throw back a shot to claim the last of four tokens needed to shed
his boner-oppressing briefs. As he did this the naked woman lurched
over to the bandstand and clumsily boarded it with their
help.

“
I wanna suck it!” she
screamed, holding his penis like the handle of a strange machine.
Emma remembered her name was Amanda.

“
You’ve never had the
pleasure?” Emma inquired in surprise. The other woman shook her
head. “I’ll help you get started. On your knees!”

Emma got her positioned before Mark, then
with one hand on the support chain she stepped forward to straddle
Amanda’s head, grinding her pantied crotch on her bent neck. As the
crowd shouted encouragement she guided her face to Mark’s
erection.

“
Now let me do the work at
first—you just swallow the penis and learn the rhythm!” Emma
shifted her hips forward to ease the woman’s head onto the cock,
let her suckle it for a moment, then withdrew. Ione was staring
down in amused fascination, missing her own dress now.

Emma took her hand for support and swung
Amanda’s face deeper on the penis, letting her feel its heat to the
back of her mouth. She worked her hips back and forward again,
feeding the woman’s craving for a thick boner in her jaw, letting
her own stymied sexuality experience it by this vicarious
route.

“
That’s it. Let it in deep!”
Ione encouraged. Dean had synchronized the beat to their sultry
fellatio and Emma slowly sped the tempo of Amanda’s headgiving till
she was hip-hammering the other woman against Mark’s studly
muscle.

“
That’s it, sweetie!” she
crooned. “You feel the technique?”

“
Mmmmmssssss…” she assented,
a soused, slurping hole gathered between Emma’s hardworking
thighs.

“
Faster!” Ione
shouted.

Amanda tried to cope for a little longer,
then Emma let her out, laughing indulgently.

“
I wanted him to come in
me!” she exclaimed, but Emma wagged a finger.

“
You have to earn that,
sugar lips!”

A trix of their guests had achieved total
nudity now, and they were rapidly identifying each other for
intimate interactions. Emma jumped off the platform at the limit of
its travel and stalked over to one of them, a cute customer from
the Dowser’s Club.

“
Try the taker!” she
encouraged, pointing up. “Grab the swing!”

With the help of a few enthusiastic friends
nearby they raised her up to grip a lateral bar hanging from chains
overhead. Emma put a taker between her heels; a long, foot-gripped
dildo. As they watched from below she maneuvered the head of the
toy to her vagina and carefully drew her legs up, knees drawing
wide from the maneuver. The dildo slid into her twat as a look of
ecstasy softened her features.

“
Swing!” Emma shouted, and
the woman addressed herself to this additional complication. She
was soon gliding lazily overhead, euphorically cramming her vagina
with the long penis, thighs flexing in a dreamy, adductive
syncopation.