Atonement! M

Their trip downstairs to the bar was uneventful; they split up after leaving the elevator. As he lagged behind he noticed a man leaving the bar's hotel-side entrance and moving toward the elevator. This man, one from the presumed bachelor's, party slowed to check her out from the back as she passed. Her getting ogled so overtly and so early on assured him that, 'Oh, this would be fun.' She sailed into the bar with ease and with all the equipment he'd approved; her outfit, her clutch purse, the subvocal receiver, and her typed up blue piece of paper on a clipboard. The only other things she had were in her clutch, and that was limited to a cash supply, the card key, a pen, a tube of lipstick, and cigarettes (if she wanted them, he was unsure). Once she was inside he left from beside the big plant stand that was near the elevator and headed insie himself. On the way hey keyed into the subvocal to tell her to find a stool at a bar.

"Yes, sir" came back a nicely submissive voice.

He entered and deliberately walked around a bit to feel out the layout. He located her and noticed hers was a good spot that was visible from most of the first floor. He passed her without acknowledging her visibly, but did get a god look at how well the other bars, the dance floor and the upper level would get to see her position. When he was well passed her he allowed himself to see her a bit more. She heard the vocal in her ear chime in and his voice, sounding close but mechanical, told her to relax, "now place your purse on the bar with the clipboard next to it. Face the print out and, OK, face away from the bar with your legs crossed at the knee until a drink comes. Liquor or beer?"

"Liquor, sir."

Moments later a female bartender placed a slightly colored drink on the bar behind her. "Here you go hun, there's a man at the end of this bar brought you a hairy fuzzy navel," the woman pointed, but faltered, "Oh, well there was, I don't see him now." In fact neither, of them did.

"Are you hungry?" came the voice.

"I am a little."

"OK, well, use the cash to order something for yourself. Don't want you running out of energy before the night is through." Though he'd shared with her much of his plan she came to the dawning conclusion that this was going to be a long night with more surprises to come. She called the bartender back over and ordered an appetizer sampler. When the bartender called her 'hun' again she got the inkling to wonder if that woman was aware of something, or just of Baltimorean lineage. A long night, hmm, it is just 8:30, this place isn't even really going yet. 9:00 would be quite different.

In the 8:30 world there were scant few people present, only two couples on the dance floor; shag dancers cutting it up to house speaker music. The DJ from a local radio station had arrived and was hooking up for the night, but had yet to change the music. No one sat next to her yet and two of the other bars were not even attended. Yep, early enough that food came quickly. "Can I switch to soda while I eat?"

Both his voice and the bartender's returned with a yes, and in a short minute she was sipping cold cola and munching on a chicken finger. While she snacked she looked around, still trying to face away from the bar as she'd been instructed. She didn't see him when she swept the room, but when she turned to take up another snack he was at her shoulder. He picked up one of her appetizers and snacked with her, striking the poses of a casual conversation. "At about 9," he mentioned, "the DJ will get going, shortly after I'm going to take you to dance, OK?" She nodded, sort of aware that it might not be a question. "Until then eat, face outward, have another drink, and sit with your legs uncrossed." She casually uncrossed them and sat upright on the stool. "Good, now tell me what you need, again."

"I need," go ahead she told herself, "I need dick." Thank good ness the DJ had turned up the canned music a bit to cover his work. Also, lights started to flash over dance floor way.

"OK, we'll see what we can do. You need another drink. Loosen up, have that other drink, and... unclench those knees when you look around."

"Yes, sir."

He touched her knee lightly with a finger before he moved on. She noticed that in the couple of minutes they'd been talking more people had filled in, and the sound level of chatter was noticeable for the first time. She did try to loosen up a bit and made it a point to rock her stool slightly side-to-side. While in transit from point to point she let her knees travel separately, more and more each time. When resting she left her elbow or leaned her back against the bar which gave a flash of red lace to any looking close enough her way. This posture also presented her hefted bosom past the outer black top.

"OK, the DJ's about to start up." Came the voice in her ear, "Meet me at the far entrance to the dance floor."

"Yes, sir." She stood and arranged her stuff. Her little clutch purse sat on the bar where the 'tender could keep an eye on it, but her clipboard... that probably had to rest on the seat of the barstool. She then left it to stalk to the place at the far side of the dance floor where the rail split and two steps descended. He was not there as the danceable music started and showlights beamed in. The overall effect of the lighting made the spot she waited in darkness, and the dance floor quite bright.

"Come on out." She heard and so she obeyed. Once at the bottom of the steps she saw him a few feet away reaching for her hand. OK, this was alright. She let him lead her to the middle of the floor, or close to it, and they began a non-touchy shuffle of just feet moving; first to one side then to the other. It was probably apparent that she was not much of a dancer.

He closed the distance to put his hands on her hips to instruct them into a dip with every other step. Once she had this motion automatic he set her lose with a push into a spin. She met him back-to-back, still dipping her hip, then touch front-to-front where he closed the distance by sliding a leg between hers, almost touching and then sometimes touching. Her thighs would close with her motion to surround his denim-clad knee. He separated again to orbit around her, but kept her crouched with a hand on her shoulder. The position turned her hip sway into a grind which followed as he eased in behind her. They fully and firmly bumped and bumped as her rear met his lap – a just right seat for her to squirm on and to feel just a little firmness of his response. His hand came across her belly, holding under her boobs to steady her as he pushed his hips and sex against her. This motion parted her thighs a bit more and the skirt rose a little with each pumping grind.

Feeling the music, the motion, the stimulation she closed her eyes and soon bit her lip gently. His pressure let up on her rear for but a moment, and that bracing arm left her hance, but then the lap and its firmness was back and bumped with a bit more gusto. His opposite hand now rested atop her thigh for bracing. The hand bounced with her slightly plump skin for a moment then turned to the inside of her leg. Her motion bounced the probing, questing hand. A bit at a time it landed a little higher and higher, now at the edge of her skirt, then inside the edge, then pressing the edge up higher, higher. Now it brushed panty and the thrill swept her from left to right and settled in her head. Now it moved down to her sex to meet the hand which stroked her panties with each rise of her hips. Soon she was sure the moisture of her excitement, her anticipation would come through the very wide mesh of her red lace. Then the hand was back on her thigh, but at the top. The rub flowed from front to back and teased her still clad labia, but it was searching for something more. It pressed against the joinder of her thigh to her crotch. Rubbing, rubbing, now hooking. It was in – just inside her panty it rubbed her bare lip on the right side and she knew her labia were drawn apart by the motion and by their own engorgement. As the song ended she felt the final two motions rub along her moist slit, then she stopped and rested her own hand on the firm hand up her skirt. Strong and wide it supported a wide bejeweled class ring. But she was sure he didn't wear a ring. Confusion set in and she snapped her eyes open. She turned to se who it really was – who'd cut in, but as the next song started with a wholly different tempo a shift took place on the dance floor. Her turn to face her mystery partner brought her to face a wall of three different men. Was it one of them? Was the groping hand already gone through the crowd heading directly off the floor? "You OK?" came the voice directly in her ear.

"I, I ... I guess so, where did you go?"

"Don't worry about it, go ahead back to your drink. I'll bet you need a good sip about now." He spoke true; she'd let herself be touched, penetration had been right at the doorstep, by a totally unknown hand. Moreover, she'd let herself back to the edge of orgasm; it was the second close-but-not-quite cum of the night. Maybe that feeling, subsiding now, had contributed to her advancing disorientation. The strangers – the place was now quite full of them – parted to allow her off the floor, and she moved back to her spot at the bar delicately looking about. Her clipboard was already off the seat and on the bar. She had a good, firm gulp of her drink as she sat. She let the chair make sure her skirt was all the way down at its proper place, and a shift of her thighs repositioned her panty's edge. But so far nothing had restored her personal edge. "Do make an obvious gesture of looking about. You're looking for something, but don't be afraid of looking small." He instructed from parts unknown. She did so, but she also spared a look to the clipboard, which had been added to. She had typed, "I have been bad and need to atone for that. Help me to see the costs of my misdeeds." Then there were several blank lines which had been filled in – just now – with a carefully made legible print stating, "I will experience tonight what only a naughty cumbucket should ever know. Meet me at room 705 after 11:30 to help." Three columns of blanks descended from that – blank except for a first name already scrawled across one.

"What do you see?" asked the voice

She looked around unsure, "I can see you're serious," she visibly swallowed, " can see I'm going to be busy – got my work cut out."

"OK, adjust yourself."

"What?"

"Your boobs, hike them a bit, and keep your legs open when you revolve on the stool."

"I ... yes, sir." She sat like this awhile and finished her appetizer sampler and a drink. "Another, please." She beckoned to the new bartender, a man with blond hair and a nametag that announced 'Sam'.

Came the voice in her ear, "I think you're ready for the next step."

"I am?"

Oh yeah, now this might be tricky because I want you to do this slowly, and yet nonchalant..."

"OK, yes, sir."

"Facing away from the bar, take off your panties."

"What?!"

"I want you to take off your panties. Any trouble or do you need help?"

"Yes, sir – I mean n-no, sir." She sat very still a moment. That was a new twist she hadn't thought would happen. Not that it would be the boldest move of the night he'd layed out before her, but it certainly ... it certainly linked what he had described to a sense of the real. Even more than a finger along her pussy lips this signified that this night was happening.

And she did it.

It was hard to do nonchalantly from sitting down. Either way this would involve reaching up into her skirt, hiking up her skirt or a combination of the two.

So first she pinched her mid-thigh skirt halfway higher. The she waited, looked around a bit to see who was looking. Such a furtive look was futile, though, against the unusual and changing lighting. She reached in at the center with both hands and hooked her lace at the crotch. She lifted her butt with two bounces while pulling with her fingers and freed the panties from her weight.

Passing groups pressed close and she extracted her fingers and lowered her hem all in one motion. Well, not too technically her underwear was off; only skirt covered her buttocks, and only her own thighs closed over her vagina now. However, the task was not done. "Well, how's it going?"

Instead of answering she looked around at people a moment longer, then opened her purse on the bar. She reached up the sides of the stretchy skirt and fingered the band of her panties, hooked it and slid them efficiently out. They were loose enough that once at the knee she could lift her right leg , and her foot was free. That little maneuver surely showed people to the right something. Still keeping her eye on her work she crossed her left leg over her right and used one finger to drag the red lacy bundle down around her left foot. Perhaps people to the left had even been able to catch a glimpse up her skirt. She now turned to the bar and, shying up a bit, dropped her panties into her small purse and closed it. She still faced the bar and fought embarrassment, or the potential for it, by sipping her drink and resting her face on the back of her hand. "OK," she finally said, "it's done. And I suppose I ..."

"... that you know how I want you to sit for the next few minutes?"

"Yes, is that next?"

"Show what you've got."

She slowly rotated the stool, her legs still crossed at the knee. Before she was 180° around she slowly uncrossed and then finished her turn. She had been sitting upright but now, with the bar at her back, she could lean back. Taut-held breasts propped up by the arch of her back, legs slightly apart, head absently high, she let herself sway the revolving stool left-right-left with the music. A bit of air noticeably moved past her private place and she felt a flush there. She wondered if anyone was watching her pussy, but didn't dare to look directly to see. Had this excited her so that her labia had swelled? Moved? Could anyone tell from here? She absently thought of reaching in and spreading herself open with her fingers, and a wave of horniness walked across her nipples. She didn't do it, but the thought occurred. Now she allowed herself to look out, catching a glimpse that her nipples were noticeable despite the shirt and bra. 'oh, boy; what am I getting into?' It was a thought she'd last had at a gentlemen's club on ladies night while visiting the men's room on a dare. That's how she was treating this – like a dare. And god knows she was a sucker for a dare. For a reminder of what she was getting into she looked back at the clipboard.

"Are you there?" She murmured after a couple more shots at her drink.

"Yes, what do you need?"

Can I go to the bathroom?" The sensation of having to pee had crossed her path like the cool breezes down below from the air conditioning.

"Well, that's a good idea," came the reply, "Hey, do you have your lipstick or Chapstick in your purse?"

"Yes."

"Take it out and bring it with you."

"Which one?"

"You pick, mix it up for me, eh."

"OK."

"The restroom is on the second floor."

"Ok." She slid off the stool and, being a bit short, she was aware of having to hike the back of her skirt down wondering if she'd showed a bit of the bottom of her butt. To get upstairs she had to climb a wide curved stairway with people lingering against the wall in conversation. This made her have to navigate up the middle of the stairs and half way to the second floor she became aware of a man in all white following her a few paces back. 'Is he really following me? What does he see from there? Does he have a view?' She was aware of her flushed thighs and labia again. She was answered, in part, when she got to the top step. The women's room had developed a line that reached that far. Stopping there to wait she noticed that this man behind and below her, paused for a moment of indecision before actually aware of the possibility of being caught sniffing her out. He actually turned back to descend the stairs.

Her wait in line was about 10 minutes to get into a stall. As she entered he spontaneously tickled her ear with, "Do you whistle?"

"God. You scared me. Yes."

"OK, do that while you pee."

"OK uh," and she whistled a little bit with the song that pumped in from the dance floor. She practiced in the tradition of hovering over the seat – who knows what that thing had seen/beheld. "OK, she whispered, I'm done."

"Finger yourself a bit after you wipe."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Oh, yes sir. Do you want me to cum or something?"

"No, no just get a bit wet."

"OK, well I am a bit um, umm." She said acknowledging a little thrill was already there from everything that had happened so far. Still she fingered herself as she checked and felt that her lubrication was still there. But a moment of humoring him and then, "What next?"

"OK, I want you to exit the stall," she did as his voice bade, "Now apply the lipstick."

"I brought Chapstick..."

"That's even better, you're not putting it on your lips."

"What? Where?"

"Put it on your other lips while you're still in the restroom."

"What?"

"Yes, what?"

"Oh ... yes sir." She walked to a sink and uncapped the tube, "Um, there are other women here ..." some of whom began to look at her as her mumbles were amplified to almost audible by the restroom walls.

"I know."

"And I'm wet."

"I know, I guess you'll have to wipe with a paper towel..."

There were some coarse restaurant towels nearby and she pulled a small fistful. She sized up her reflection a moment as she seized up something within. As she turned about she reminded herself, 'he won't know if I fake this.' But then again, 'I know, but it won't be the same.' Turning brought her face-to-face with a stern-looking short haired brunette who was standing in line. Without a word she flattened her paper towels and reached for the edge of her skirt. She had to look down for a moment and bend her legs apart to reach up and dab at her moistened crotch. She was obvious, as one could only be. He skits hiked up an inch or so, the edge trying to bend and fold upward. Her eyes came back up and met the gaze of the brunette. A furrowed brow and the trace of a sneer belied how that older woman felt. The newcomer, caught observing, averted her eyes. 'that's Okay, lady, the rest of you bitches will surely catch a glimpse of this.' She reached down and assumed the same posture to apply the Chapstick.

"How's it going?" Having difficulty she didn't respond, instead she jostled with getting the Chapstick up her skirt.

Thinking 'Fuck it!' she adjusted her approach, hiked the bottom of her skirt up to just an inch below her cootchy and leaned back against the sink. Someone trying to see would watch her apply directly to skin with only a little bow of their head. And so she did roll out a bit of the balm stick and matter-of-factly rub it onto her labia, several coats being required to coat her swelling lips. 'Uh oh,' something was welling up. No, something surprising and shocking and ... a sting as the mentholatum had touched a bit of her inner lip. She bit the lips of her mouth to hold back a rush of breath as the sting rose up; not harmful, but disconcerting. As she adjusted her skirt back into place she noted that several other women in line had definitely observed her and there were mixed reactions. A couple of them just couldn't contain their flabbergasted looks, some quickly cast their gazes elsewhere, and one pair of college aged girls smiled and whispered something between them demurely. Braced against the breezy sensation at her twat and the urge to exclaim 'Whoo!' she straight shoulderedly strode from the bathroom. She about bumped into a slender redhead with a catty smile as she strode through the doorway.