Different Rules

The thing that struck her most was the passage of time. Driving through town on a warm summer afternoon, wondering if she knew this person or that person. That's when it hit her- it had been 15 years since she had cruised these streets, laughing and carrying on and doing all the things that teenagers do.

Of course, back then she didn't have a car, and didn't have the perspective of college, work, the outside world. Still, it struck her just how long it had been since her school days.

The reunion was tonight, but right now she was letting the memories wash over her as she drove the streets she used to walk as a teen. She was 33, happily married and had a good job, but that was another world. Here, she was on her own, reliving her youth.

Trips were odd little creatures that way; once she got out of town and away from her 'working self', it was as if the other life was put on temporary hold. A phrase popped into her head: 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas'. Stupid phrase, but she understood what it meant. And so did hubby, which was one of the reasons she was happily married.

Heather felt a tingle. When she had brought up the possibility of going to the reunion, hubby had encouraged her to take the trip. And when she cautioned that she might run into an old boyfriend, his reply had turned her on: "So what? You'll be there, not here". Translation: do whatever you want. Different place, different rules.

"Be careful saying that," she said.

"I mean it. Have fun." He stared right at her. "But you have to tell me about it."

The thing was, he knew what reunions did to her. A couple of years earlier, she had flown off to another one, a get-together with people from her first job, before she had even met hubby. She had talked a pal into making the trip with her, because he had worked with her back then.

Probably a good thing he came along, because he kept her out of trouble, for the most part. It had been a great night, old boyfriends leering at her, lots of dancing and catching up. There also had been a lot of drinking, and she couldn't even remember making it back to her hotel room. The next morning, she had woken up in her room, her clothes neatly folded on a chair. All of her clothes: she was naked, and she knew there was no way she could have folded anything, let alone stack them so neatly. Blouse, skirt, bra, panties, set just so.

She had shrugged. If her friend had put her to bed, so be it, although she had a vague sense of... something else. She had even mentioned it to hubby, but he just laughed. And actually said to her: "Knowing him, that would have made his day."

His reply had given her an odd tingle, and here she was on another trip, anticipating who she might see, and talk to. As much as she loved the social aspect of getting caught up, there was more than a little anticipation about who might be there, and what they might look like.

But this time she didn't have a chaperone, and the tingle was back.

"So I'm about to head in."

She was sitting in her car, watching others drifting toward the main entrance of her old high school.

"Are you going to have fun?" There was tease to his voice, which made her feel a bit slippery.

"Yes," she paused. "Well, you know, I'm here..." and she knew he would fill in the rest on his own.

"What are you wearing?"

"That little summer dress you like, you know, with the buttons." He loved that dress, because it showed lots of leg. And he loved the buttons on top, because they could be undone.

"Bra?"

"Of course." Once in awhile, when she was feeling it, she went without a bra. She loved the looks she got, but she really couldn't do it here. Almost to make up for it, she had popped an extra button, even though the dress was a bit low-cut. A bit of flash, but nothing obvious. She did it sometimes at work, just to spice things up. It was fun seeing guys angle in for a bit of down-blouse.

"What else? Dolled up? Heels?"

"Yes, pervert."

He laughed, which was arousing. Hubby liked it when she 'dolled up', make-up and hair just so, and he thought heels added to it. It turned her on that he wanted her to look sexy walking into a reunion.

Heather said, "Okay, I'm off."

"Have fun. By the way, in an hour, undo a button."

"Already have."

"Another one, then."

Hubby liked it when she got the looks, too.

"Hey - what do you think?"

Steve gestured to the doorway of the gym, and Ted turned to look.

"Hmmm... I like that," he said.

Whoever it was had just walked in, alone. It was kind of funny, actually, the three of them hanging out in the corner, just like they had done so long ago. Different now, of course, each of them married -- well, Ted separated, and Ronnie wasn't happy, but still. And here they were, all these years later, ogling women. Steve loved ogling women.

Something about her, though - "Shit- you know who that is?

Ted and Ronnie shook their heads. "Who?"

"Heather."

Didn't even have to use her last name, because they would know who he was talking about.

"Ya," said Ronnie, and you could hear it in his voice. Arousal.

She felt their eyes when she walked in, and she had to admit, it gave her more than a little satisfaction. She knew she looked good, because she worked at it. Pretty well the same weight as in her teens and twenties, not even a hundred pounds on a lean frame, everything hard and tight- well, maybe except the boobs. That's why she liked wearing this dress- it showed her off. It was snug, molding to her body, and of course, that one extra undone button.

She looked good. Nice makeup, tousled hair, and Steve felt a pleasant little twitch. Her dress clung to her tits, and even from across the room, Steve caught the deep v of her décolletage. She was petite, maybe five feet in her bare feet, but she wasn't in bare feet, she was in heels, which was sort of sexy, but he went back to her dress, and her tits.

Man, he loved tits.

Whoever had decorated had done a good job, both hiding the fact that it was a gym and celebrating it at the same time. Unlike a regular high school dance, though, there was a real bar, a perfect touch for a reunion.

A band played covers, and people were dancing and drinking and milling around, in groups and in pairs. She had already caught up with a couple of old classmates, and she scanned the crowd for more. And again she felt the eyes. There were a couple of guys with 'trophy wives', hard-looking chicks with empty smiles, but she was getting the same looks, and she felt a warm glow. She loved that look, men scanning her bod, especially if they were with someone. She didn't mind seeing a bit of jealousy here and there; in fact, it turned her on when guys paid more attention to her than women they were with.

One particular bunch of guys was giving her the up and down, and she gave them a profile. Fun, and a little hot, too. It seemed to have an effect: one of them ditched his pals and wandered closer, a smile on his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't one of her old classmates. Maybe a bit younger than she was, but she couldn't quite place him-

"Heather," he said in greeting. "Steve Jensen."

"Hi." The name was familiar, but not the context.

"I was a year behind you. Fletcher's class."

Then it clicked into place. She remembered a gangly, good-looking kid who thought he was pretty cool. Still good-looking, just not gangly anymore. At all.

He was easy to talk to, and he had good sense of humor. They pointed out people to each other, and Steve was obviously enjoying himself, in ten minutes knocking back a drink and going for another. Once in awhile, his eyes did a quick scan of her boobs, but that was why she had worn this dress, wasn't it? The truth was, when she was in the mood, she liked showing herself off.

"You know," he said, looking around the auditorium. "I have to admit, some of us- and I don't mean us- haven't, how can I put this? Haven't aged well."

"I had sort of noticed." And they both laughed.

"You, on the other hand, look great."

"Why thank you."

"No, I mean, you look great." And he stepped back and looked at her. Still the socially acceptable banter, but she watched his eyes, and sure enough, they lingered exactly where she thought they might.

Man, nice cleavage on her. It was warm in the gym, and Steve noticed a slight sheen to her skin, particularly in the gap. Gee, slippery skin between tits; what could it possibly mean?

Heather felt a flush of pride. He wasn't being a pig about it, but he obviously liked what saw.

His eyes came back up, and he didn't seem concerned that she had caught him checking her out. "Uh-huh," he said. "You look great." He jerked his head to the other side of the gym. "In fact, we were talking about it."

She looked over to the wall, where the other two guys were sort-of watching them. "What are they, still in high school?"

Steve laughed. "Ah, they're doing what they always do. Speaking of which..." The music had picked up, and he gestured to the dance floor. "Wanna?"

"Sure do."

Heather felt the years fall away as she danced. It was so much better than in high school, none of the uncertainty and drama of being a teen. A lot of the others seem to be in the same mood, just dancing and having fun.

Steve was grinning like a fool, occasionally looking into the corner. She realized he was showing off for his friends, and she played it up, making it obvious she was enjoying his company. Sort of hot doing it, wondering what they were thinking.

Another song and more dancing, and Heather felt herself warming up. In both ways. It was warm on the dance floor, and Steve's obvious interest in her was a turn-on. The music slowed, and for moment they looked at each other, then he offered his hand. It was a slow dance to an old song, nothing improper beyond a little body contact. She had a quick thought- hubby will love hearing about this.

Heather was disappointed when it ended. Then Steve said, "I need another drink."

It was fun and flirty and Heather was enjoying herself. They sat, drinks in hand, watching the show. Old classmates came over, and everyone oohed and aahed at each other. And at some point, Steve's two pals came over.

"Heather, remember Ronnie and Ted?"

Well, not really, but she was all smiles. Nice enough guys, although not in Steve's league. Still, it was sort of hot, because they were both giving her that look. Ronnie, in particular, couldn't keep his eyes off her boobs. They were funny, and talkative, and soon enough everyone was laughing. Every time she looked away, she felt Ronnie's eyes dropping to her cleavage. And because she was feeling the heat, she maybe gave him a few extra opportunities, twisting slightly so that her dress occasionally popped open. Every time she did it, she felt him stiffen - so to speak - when he looked into her cleavage.

Then she remembered what hubby had said.

She excused herself and headed for the bar. It was busy, but she managed to snag a drink. She ran into a couple of classmates and caught up with them, then looked back at Steve and his pals, who were leaning together in conversation. She would have bet big money they weren't talking about the weather, and the thought gave her a little bump of pleasure. Probably her tits, especially given Ronnie's wandering eye. She checked to make sure no one was watching, then popped another button. She felt the material sag open. What to hell, it fit her mood.

As she headed back, three pairs of eyes turned to her, and they all had the same look.

"Miss me?" she teased, and made a point of sitting beside Ronnie. And once they all started gabbing again, she casually leaned forward.

Ronnie stared, eyes wide. Heather's dress had popped way open, and her tits were almost falling out. Her bra was a lacy thing, cut low- and he suddenly realized it was so sheer that he could see her nipples! It was as good as some of the soft-core he saw on-line, only this was better because he knew her. She was talking to Steve, oblivious, and her nips seemed to get harder even as he watched. Ted had noticed, too, and they exchanged quick grins. She turned back, slowly enough that they weren't caught staring at her tits. Man, what he could do with those boobs.

They talked some more, and every time Heather turned away, it was down-blouse heaven. She laughed at something Steve said, and her tits jiggled sexily, straining against the material of her thin bra. But then Ronnie caught the nod from Steve, and he and Ted made an excuse to drift away, although not far enough that he couldn't catch the occasional glimpse of her dress. And her boobs.

Heather was enjoying herself. She wouldn't have minded hanging out with Steve when he was younger. He had moved away for a few years, but came back and opened a small store. He was married, but Heather read it as 'married', and who was she to judge, especially given what she was doing right now? He was obviously enjoying her company, which was flattering, and inevitably the conversation drifted back to past lives. Friends, who had seen who, who was still seeing who, affairs, all of it.

And then, "You know I used to fantasize about you."

That got her attention "Really?"

"The hot older woman."

Well, that was certainly interesting, and extremely flattering. She loved that someone way back when thought she was hot.

He nodded. "Actually, we all did."

"Sounds like a line to me."

He grinned and leaned closer. "There was one time, we were all hanging out near the lake, and you showed up. In a bikini."

It sounded like her, because she always had bikinis that fit really well. She had the body for it, and she didn't mind putting it on display.

Steve was grinning. "It was a small bikini. You looked really good. I think some of the other girls were pissed off". He took a drink. "We talked about that bikini a lot."

" 'We'?"

"The guys." He laughed and lifted his glass- a bit sloppily- in the direction of his buddies.

Heather felt a familiar little bump. It was fun talking to Steve, because of the attention, because of his obvious interest. She had downed a drink or three, which had taken the edge of, and so had Steve. She knew he was a bit drunk when he leaned in and dropped his voice, "Actually, we didn't really talk about the bikini."

Heather felt it. Yes, the gym was getting warmer, but the conversation itself had taken on some heat. She vaguely remembered hanging out at the lake that summer, but hearing how they had fantasized - his word- about her was hot.

"Then what did you talk about?" she asked. It was all light and airy, but there was more to it than that.

He looked at her, and for moment his eyes went out of focus. "The way you looked. Your bod." He took a drink, as if fortifying himself. "What we wanted to do".

Well, that was certainly specify. She almost let the obvious question slip out- "And what did you want to do?" but she maybe had an idea of what it was.

Just then the music started up again and everyone headed for the dance floor. Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

She went with the flow, which was kind of cool, letting him lead and she got lost in the music, enjoying the movement, enjoying the moment. Enjoying what Steve had said. Image tumbled, and she felt more heat. Getting a bit slippery, wasn't it? And those words: "What we wanted to do."

They danced, and then the music slowed right down. This time, there wasn't any hesitation: Steve pulled Heather close. Oddly, even though the dance floor was crowded- actually, because it was crowded- it felt intimate and anonymous. Steve obviously felt the same way, and his hand slid lower, brushing her ass.

They were just flirting, but even as she thought it, he pulled her closer. She didn't fight it, in fact, may have pressed her pussy up against his leg. Didn't really have a choice, with the dance floor so crowded.

The first slow song flowed into another, and it was like being back in high school again. Steve's hand slid up and down her back, slow and sensual. He pulled her onto his thigh again and she pushed her pussy against him. He obviously took this as an invitation, and his hand swept up along her side, sliding over the side of her boob. He held her like that, his hands high up, pressing the edge of his hand into her boobs. As they danced, the back of his hand caressed her boobs. More moments to share with hubby.

The music died away and they pulled apart. No on one had noticed the little grope, and that in itself sort if turned her on. They made there way back to the table, a little breathless.

"That was fun," Steve said at last. "Lots of people." Translation; no one saw a thing.

She nodded. "Lots of people." Not a word about what had just gone on the dance floor, which was as sort of hot in itself.

Heather recognized the mood she was in. Sometimes it caught up with her, feeling hot, feeling a little out of control, but enjoying it all. This reunion transported her to another time when she was young, sleek, and had all the fun she wanted. Not as if she did this all the time, but what was the harm? Didn't change who she was.

"And what did you want to do?"

Steve looked at her. "Pardon?"

"You said the guys talked about 'what you wanted to do'." Heather took a drink.

"With me."

Steve stared for a few seconds, then shrugged. "You know, the regular." And with that, he gave her a goofy grin, his eyes traveling all the way up and down her body, lingering, of course, on her cleavage.

She gave him a look. "Chicken."

He laughed, and she laughed, and they each snagged another drink from a passing friend. They talked a bit more, about the warm weather, about nothing.

When the music slowed down again they both stood and headed for the dance floor as if by mutual agreement. No hesitation this time: they came together in the anonymity of the crowded dance floor. He pulled her close, onto his thigh, and she responded, sliding her pussy along his leg. Hmmm, thin summer dress, tiny panties, slippery pussy. What do you say to that?

Then just like high school, lost in the crowd, he leaned forward and kissed her and the last 15 years fell away. They were two teenagers in the middle of a dance floor, and she necked with him, sloppily, his hand on her ass, Heather grinding her pussy into him.

Went they broke, she looked around, but no one had even noticed, because everyone else was wrapped up in their own little drama on the crowded floor. It was as if all the rules were gone, and he pulled her into another kiss.

This time, his hand slid up her side, and he cupped the side of her boobs. Not a quick grope; his thumbs moved slowly, sliding across the outline of her nipples, and Heather felt them tighten up. Steve squeezed her tits gently as he thumbed her nipples. When Heather felt his cock on her abdomen she pressed her pussy harder onto his leg, sliding up and down, increasingly turned on by the anonymity of the crowd. Steve's hand slid sideways and then into her bra and he closed on her boob, squeezing. Heather glanced around, but everyone was in their own little world and he squeezed her tit again, a little more insistent this time.

They both recognized that the music was coming to an end, and it seemed to spur them both on. They kissed, and his hands were all over her, so fucking hot, and being in the middle of a crowd was itself a turn on.

When the song ended, they made their way back to the table, and she knew she was as flushed as he was. It was sort of hot doing this, using the anonymity of the crowd, and then acting all normal. Still, she felt the slickness in her pussy.

He got them another drink, smiling with that charming smile of his. Looked around like a guilty schoolboy, and when the music started, he took her hand and pulled her up. They threaded their way onto the dance floor, which would have been ok, and fun, and really frustrating. But he kept going, pulling her through the crowd and out of the gym.