You knew this mixer was a bad idea. You only said yes because you were crushing hard on the one that asked you to come and round out the numbers on the girl's side. It certainly took no foresight semblance to see that she'd leave early on the arm of one of the boys tonight. Thankfully your opposite number had passed out halfway into his first beer, so you weren't getting hit on by someone not in your strike zone to begin with. Just drunk, horny, and lonely.

You sigh and cast your gaze on the dance floor, at least hoping for some eye candy. No-ass twerking like she'd only heard about it fourth hand. Pass. Cute faunus girl unfortunately doing something that you can only vaguely identify as dancing. No thanks.

The pair in strapless dresses and 4 inch heels intertwined as tightly as mating snakes, hands running greedily along oddly similar curves holy-

They stop, and when your eyes manage to drag past two tongues disentangling and licking opposite sides of red and cyan colored lips, they are met by one eye from each girl, each colored exactly the same shade of emerald and lust.

Without even looking at each other, the two girls disengage, hips swaying from side to side in perfectly mirrored strides as they beeline in your direction. You swallow on a dry throat and move to cross your legs. Only the red and black one halts your movement with a fingernail tracing down your inner thigh and then straddles one of your now open legs, while the white one sits side saddle on your other one, drinks your drink, then plants a hand on one of your breasts with an appreciative grope and kisses your own drink down your throat when you open your mouth with a moan.

Through the fog of alcohol and libido, you hear the red one drawl from a scant few inches away and slightly to the right.

"Melanie, who is this girl?"

You hear the same drawl again, now slightly to your left.

"I dunno Miltia, but we should teach her a lesson."

You're given questioning looks in stereo, and just barely manage a nod.

The next thing you know you're flat on your back in a private room, with a pair of identical smiles looking down at you. You try to lean up, only to feel your arm caught on something. When you look over, you see your left wrist trapped between the floor and the arch of a white heel, and a red one pinning your arm down the same way on the right. As you look back upwards, you see smiles turn into grins as they embrace each other again.

With practiced ease they begin stripping each other down to naught but stilettos, thigh highs, and panties. Each still balancing in high heals atop one of your wrists, they each lift up one slender leg and remove the other heel, shimmying their drenched panties down and stepping out of them with their unshod leg. Their now shoeless feet reach out and rub sensuously past each other as they push your opposite leg out, then lift back the hem of your skirt, exposing the growing wet spot on your own panties. As they lean in towards each other, one hand fingering their twin and the other fondling their mirrored breasts, they poke and prod at your body below them with their feet, teasing your breasts, mouth, and clit. As they intertwine their fingers and climax above you with matching moans, you feel your own soaking pussy clench in desperate but unfulfilled need.

When you finally squeak out a desperate "p-please", they relent, Melanie sits herself on your face, and just when you resign yourself to more teasing, your whole body shakes as Miltia licks up your panties and then pulls them down with her teeth. Meanie moans appreciatively as she rides your convulsions out, and opens your top to find places to scratch more shaking out of you. All the while, Miltia keeps eating you out with delicate laps of her tongue, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you white out from sheer pleasure.

You wake up not wearing any panties, but with a pair tied around each wrist. One white, one red, neither yours.

You should maybe go to the club more often.