It had been so much easier the she expected. She slipped in right behind the other three girls. Evan was easy to spot, in the main chair in the family room. She also noticed that smack dab in the middle of comfortable chairs and sofas, a heavy, square coffee table had been cleared of everything and gleamed like a little mini-stage.
Catherine followed the girls' leads and flung her black trench coat over the side of one of the couches along with the other girls' winter garments.
My first bachelor party. This should be interesting. At the very least, it won't be boring!
Cat had thought that they would start dancing right away, but instead they were offered drinks and given introductions, but everyone offered first names only. One of the girls, the leader presumably, introduced Catherine as Candy, so she went with it. And she asked for a soda as opposed to anything alcoholic.
The girls were also offered beautiful, glittery domino masks with feathery plumes, and Cat realized this bachelor party had a theme: Mardi gras.
Gold coins and colorful plastic beads were scattered around the rooms between bowls of chips and dips and Evans of sandwiches. The large sheet cake decorated with an edible cookie tombstone and the words, "R.I.P. Evan" and, "Another Man Bites the Dust" written in icing sparkled with colored sugar in golds, greens, and purples.
Cat took her mask and put it on. And in the strangest way, it made her feel almost invisible: as if she could watch everything without being seen.
There were about 30 or so men there, all in their early to mid-thirties. Catherine could almost feel the testosterone like a tangible cloud in the room.
"I don't see the guy that hired us," one of the girls whispered. "Oh, well, his loss. Why don't we get started?"
As if on cue, the stereo system began to thump out the opening bars to The Rolling Stones' classic, "Brown Sugar." Guitar licks filled the room. If ever there was a song for dirty dancing, this was it.
"Great," Catherine said, and she and another made their way through the sea of male bodies and admiring eyes toward that large, gleaming coffee table. Cat had been keeping an eye on Evan, and she had a feeling he had already drank QUITE a bit. He wouldn't be doing anything amorous tonight.
One of the men offered a hand up, and she took it, smiling sweetly. Closing her eyes, Catherine began to sway to the music, a smile on her lips.
Smart move, putting me up her with another girl. We don't even HAVE to do anything together. It will all be implied.
The music revved up, someone turned the tunes up, and Cat opened her eyes to see that her "partner" had already removed her skirt, much to the cheers of the men.
Whoops! Time to catch up…
She worked the zipper down on her leather skirt, laughing as it snagged on her black satin panties.
Hey! This is actually kinda fun.
The skirt came off, and when Cat threw it, it landed on some guys head, like a necklace. As the songs passed, the clothing began to come off more and more. As the other girls got on the table, Cat started to notice that they were flashing the guys. Unfortunately, she was more amply endowed than the rest. Even more unfortunately, her bra unfastened in the back, whereas the other girls were wearing 'front unloaders'. And every male eye was now on Cat.
What to do?
She continued to dance around the table as the other girls got down. She was alone on the table. And she would swear she could hear every guy wonder what was beneath the black satin push-up bra.
Ah, what the heck…
Smiling a private, dreamy smile designed to drive a man crazy, Catherine began to sway to Chris Isaak's "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing".
And she reached for the hooks at the back of her bra.
Vincent Keller sat at his massive oak desk, on the phone, trying not to listen to the sounds of the party drifting beneath the door.
One of the trade-offs of being highly successful was that sometimes your day went a lot longer than five o'clock.
And he was successful beyond his wildest dreams. He and his business partner, J.T. Forbes, had designed a compact mass storage device for computers, and it took off like a shot. They had made millions with it when it went public, and they had fun doing it.
Vincent frowned. At least J.T. had managed the fun part. He routinely nagged him to loosen up and live a little, but he was a serious man by nature. That was why he and J.T. complemented each other in business.
Vincent listened carefully, and as the conversation wound down, J.T. said, "Wasn't there a party you were supposed to go to tonight?"
"Yeah." He rubbed his fingers along his temples, a headache beginning. Not a good sign. Vincent suddenly realized that he had worked straight through lunch and needed to get something to eat.
"Well, get going. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Which means open season?" Vincent grinned.
"You said it, not me," said J.T., sounding amused. "All I know, Vincent, is that all work and no play makes for a life that sucks."
"You have got a point there," Vincent said, glancing at his watch. "How's Riley doing?" he asked, referring to his five year black lab. He had asked J.T. to watch him, as Riley didn't like people crowds.
"Currently, he's licking himself. Obviously, he's thinking of you right now."
"Nice, J.T. Real attractive. Thanks for keeping him."
"He is fine. Don't worry about him."
"I will call in the next few days." Vincent hung up the phone, and then stood, stretching his long frame. He cocked his head, listening to roars and masculine shouts coming from the family room down the hall.
What the hell is going on?
He started towards the door of the den, opened it, and headed toward the family room.
She teased, tormented, and tortured them. And where she got the desire to do so, Catherine had no idea. It was as if a hidden talent she didn't know she had just burst out of her. Of course, the disguise helped. A lot. She felt like another woman. A sexy, powerful, experienced woman. A woman who could lead men all sorts of erotic roads.
She'd reached for the back fastening of her bra, then hesitated, her hands coming to her front, then drifting back, and the third time, still teasing, she'd finally unfastened her bra in back. Catherine always believed that a proper striptease was a work of art. She'd never had a chance to do one, and probably never would again, and she intended to make the most out of this wonderful opportunity.
They were mesmerized, every man in the room riveted on her hands, waiting for her to slip the bra down lower, lower and finally come off….
But she didn't. She made them wait
Cat slid the back fastenings apart let the lacy bra straps slide down her shoulders, then moved her hands so she was cupping the bra in front of her breasts.
The men were losing their minds, begging her to take it off.
She had the idea to look over at Evan, wondering how he was doing.
Evan was sound asleep.
Cat smiled, almost laughed, and continued to dance, her hips swaying in time to the music, her hands on black satin. Then she flashed the bra up, revealing her naked breasts, and swiftly covered them again. The men reacted like they had never seen breasts before.
Catherine laughed. She lifted the bra again, allowing only a slightly longer glance. Totally teasing.
The men were going, in a word, ape shit.
She slipped the bra into the crowd, straight toward a tall, dark-haired man who was coming toward her with an expression on his handsome face that was not at all amused.