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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
DANCING DIVA
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Chapter One
Alexis roused me from sleep. I blinked my eyes. The sun shafted
into my bedroom, illuminating all. She took my hand, gently but firmly,
lifted me up to a sitting position in my bed.
ÒOh, why have you woken me so early?Ó I asked, sleepy-eyed. I
lifted my fists to my eyes, rubbed them. Alexis drew me to the edge of my
bed and sat down beside me. Barelegged we sat, our long legs dangling
down off the edge of the high bed, toes just touching the floor. She was
naked except for little bikini panties made of felt. They looked so
delicate I feared they might fall apart if she dove in the pool and swam
laps in them.
ÒEarly?Ó she asked. She eased my babydoll nightie off my shoulders,
as if to compensate for her own bare breasts by exposing my own. ÒIt is 3
p.m., silly, how late do you expect to sleep?Ó
ÒUntil six, at least, when the sun is going down, I answered. ÒSo IÕll
have lots of energy to dance tonight.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm sure youÕll have enough,Ó she replied sweetly. She turned
my back to her and began softly brushing my long locks with a hairbrush.
It was made of ivory, from elephant tusks. ÒWhy do you like dancing so
much? You never bring any men home with you,Ó she asked. Every night
since weÕd decided to share an apartment, two weeks ago, weÕd gone out,
just the two of us. Sometimes we came home alone, other times Alexis
found a friend, bringing him along. I would drift off to sleep hearing their
travails in the next room. Always Alexis invited me to join, always I
politely refused. The men were all mesmerizingly strong, picked out for
fucking and nothing else.
ÒWell, tonight IÕve been invited to a party, in a hotel suite, rented
specially for the purpose,Ó Alexis told me. She turned, poured me tea,
offered me a cup. I glanced at the pitcher sitting on my nightstand, the
cup. She was bribing me. She wanted me to come along. I sipped. The tea
was unaccountably delicious.
ÒMmmm,Ó I breathed. I could not help myself.
ÒChai,Ó she said absently.
ÒIt tastes like spice cookies.Ó
ÒI thought youÕd like it.Ó
Sunset found us slipping out of a cab. I walked hastily, lest my
naughtiness be discovered. There was a wind in the portico, I clasped the
hem of my dress and held it tight-pressed to my thighs. It was still
blazingly hot; Alexis had convinced me to party without my panties on
tonight. ÒAre you not cooler thus?Ó she asked. I had admitted I was a
little cooler, perhaps. ÒIn any event, I got rid of that pesky hunk for you
last night, and you promised me a favor. So no panties tonight, my little
nun. You are going as my pretend slave, and I simply must make you a
little uncomfortable. All in good fun, of course. You may enjoy yourself
as you wish at the party.Ó
ÒI hope thereÕs a spare bed,Ó I replied. I had no intention of joining
Alexis in any of the trysts I suspected she had planned.
Alexis had smiled, said nothing. It was true, I owed her a favor.
SheÕd ditched a dude for me, so I reluctantly left my panties at home. IÕd
begged her to put them in her purse for me, just in case, but sheÕd
declined. I myself wasnÕt allowed a purse, being her pretend slave for the
night. That was another favor I owed her, making her do the dishes all
last week in our apartment while I played Nintendo. IÕd been smitten by
the teddy bear version of PacMan, played it constantly when we werenÕt
out dancing.
The wind caught the rear of my skirt, lifted it. IÕd wanted a leather
skirt, Alexis had insisted on soft-woven denim. I thought I heard Alexis
emit a smirking laugh as my bottom showed. A doorman opened the hotelÕs
gold-rimmed doors for us. We clattered inside, our heels announcing our
arrival to all as we stepped in. The floor was marble, brightly polished,
though carpets lay beyond. Guests and visitors looked up, men turned their
heads in amazement at our beauty, and not a few women also. There was
no wind inside, yet I faced a second worry; I wore a dogÕs collar around my
throat. Alexis had insisted upon it.
I scurried across the lobby, Alexis quietly scolding me and making
me walk a slowly as she could, trailing behind me in a gown that stretched
to her heels. She wore only a decorative ribbon around her throat. She
was calm, pleased with herself. I knew her secret, though. Behind an
artfully draped silk sash, her nipples lay bare. The gown she wore, so
elegant, sheathing her in tight black satin, rose only high enough on her
bosoms to cup them from below, leaving the top halves bare, including the
nipples. They stuck out boldly, and the excitement of having them so
lewdly, if secretly, displayed made them stiff even now. If you looked
closely at the sash hung round her neck, draping softly down over her
bosoms, you could see the little indentations where her bare nipples poked
into the fabric. Twin tents, they were, hiding two delicate tent poles. I
guessed that her legs, so smoothly encased at the moment, might be boldly
displayed later in the evening. The dress would be gone, her breasts free,
and her legs, invisible now, would be naked and spread. She had long, firm,
healthy legs, skinny almost, wrapped in black stockings that stretched up
to the tops of her thighs. There they were held in place by garter straps,
hung from a belt round her waist. Her hair, elegantly done, piled atop her
head, gave her an air of sophisticated poise. Opera-length gloves,
matching the black of her dress, added a final touch. She wore wristlets
of pearls, five pearl-studded strands binding each of her wrists as if they
were ropes. Put her to a white wall and youÕd think she was tied to it, the
pearls blended in so neatly.
As for myself, I had a boldness of my own. I wore a smart-looking
jacket. It matched my dress. Denim, but thin, stone washed Ôtil it was
almost threadbare. (Though not quite, thank God! IÕd have refused it if it
was see-through, favors be damned!) My arms and chest were enclosed in
the jacket, but it left my tummy bare. My belly-button was teasingly
visible, my tummy browned by lying in the sun. Below this was my skirt,
so low on my hips it looked like it might fall off. And below the hem of
my skirt, which reached just to the tops of my thighs, was bare leg. I
wore stockings, black nylons that ran up my legs to mid-thigh, with
elastic tops to keep them in place; but between my stocking tops and the
hem of my skirt there was nothing. Just smooth, neatly tanned flesh.
Leg-flesh. My flesh. So I had a kind of exposed band of naked skin both
above and below my skirt, while the rest of me, from my leather booties
right up to my collared neck, was clothed. Alluring, to be sure, and
another reason for me to hurry across the lobby.
We reached the elevators, at last. We stepped inside. We did not
hold the doors open for the men rushing to join us. Quietly the lift rose. I
looked at Alexis, she at me. We were alone together. She reached out,
took my hand in hers, squeezed it. We exchanged smiles.
The elevator doors opened near the top floor. Alexis peeked out, saw
no one. We felt cautious suddenly, shy. Together we stepped into the
hallway. We followed a row of doors down to a number; 96. Alexis
knocked softly, her gloved hand protected from the hardness of the wooden
door. Voices. The door cracked, opened. A woman gazed out. She was
auburn-haired, dressed in a skirt and vest. It had long sleeves but was
open in front. Her bosoms shifted loosely beneath it. There was no blouse,
no tell-tale bra strap crossing between the open halves of the vest. Yet
she was covered, if she moved gracefully, carefully. Unless a gentleman
chose to lift her vest, perhaps, to inspect the stiffness of her nipples
inside, tenting the fabric in obvious twin little points.
ÒCome in,Ó she breathed. ÒIÕm Elizabeth, and you must be?Ó
ÒAlexis,Ó my partner replied. ÒAnd this is Lisa.Ó I smiled, did not
want to disappoint her. She smiled back. A perfect hostess, save for her
indolence in forgetting her blouse. She closed the door behind us and
slipped a chain across its edge. We were the last to arrive, I guessed.
There would be no more. Room service would have to get special
permission to enter, lest they break the chain. I remembered now; ÒDo not
DisturbÓ had been hanging on a tag from the doorknob.
ÒCome in, please. Meet the others,Ó Elizabeth urged. She turned to
me, I thought she would put her arm round my waist. Instead she slipped
her hand up underneath my miniskirt. I jerked as I felt her palm touch my
heinie. ÒAh, you have come well prepared,Ó she smiled at me. Frankly she
palmed me all over my tush, as if evaluating it. She traced my cleft with
her finger, dividing my cheeks herself with her lightly-pressing digit,
drawing it up my behind until she reached the band of my dress underneath.
ÒVery fine,Ó she whispered. With a swish of her long auburn locks she
turned her head to Alexis. ÒA fine bottom, suitable for whipping.
Demanding it, really, donÕt you think?Ó
ÒIt is hers to do with as she wishes,Ó Alexis replied, not turning to
look at our hostess. Her dress swished regally round her ankles. I loved
her for her taunting, her refusal. We teased them yet did not agree to
their terms. Perhaps she would be punished for it. Perhaps she wanted it.
A large living room opened before us. We stepped from the entry hall
into it, gazed around. We were sheep, come to dance with farmers at
shearing-time. Handsome men and women greeted us. The men in tuxes,
the women in gowns or skirts, depending on their mood or their age. Some
wore collars, some not. The men betrayed their hopes for the evening with
significant bulges in the groins of their expensive trousers. We were
offered drinks, accepted. Quietly we mingled, chatted, Alexis and I always
staying near each other. All the faces were strange, new. I shivered. I
did not want to think about what might lay ahead, yet it tempted me to
speculate. The women looked at me with knowing eyes, admired my
jacket, my skirt. No others touched me, though, save Elizabeth, who now
was safely removed to the far side of the room, chatting with some man
she favored. Yet their eyes, their eyes undressed me, I thought; though I
myself couldnÕt help but stare sometimes at the menÕs groins. Large and
protruding they were, drawing my attention. The men did not complain,
seemed to treasure my glance, hoped for it, accepted it with gentlemanly
pride. Did they stand with their hips thrust out a bit? I fancied they did,
just for me, though I could not be certain. The air seemed strangely still;
moist and hot, despite the soft purr of an air conditioner somewhere.
30
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