Have A Drink On Me

Have a Drink On Me

By de Vere

From de Vere's upcoming collection of short stories, LET: Tales of Love, Eros and Taboo. Some stories are true, some are fictional. Some are aspirational. You decide which are which.

The names have been changed to protect the naughty.

Staring up at the crystal chandelier cutting light into all colors of the spectrum distracted me enough to bring a fleeting semblance of calm. More exposed, vulnerable, embarrassed, more aroused with excitement than at any time in my life. Too nervous to look around at all the faces staring at me, my attention instead fell upon one crystal on the chandelier that caught yellow and purple light, changing to red and orange when I turned my head ever so slightly to the side.

Momentarily considering leaping up and running from the room, away from these strangers, then I wondered whether any of them could see the shaking of my hands that I felt but could not control. No one looked at my hands, though, strangely comforted by the knowledge that everyone looked at my body, my underwear, my bare skin, not my quivering hands.

Cold liquid poured into my belly-button caused a new wave of self-consciousness to sweep over me, more powerful than before. Now I allowed myself to look down.

Maureen bent over. Her red lips press against the skin of my stomach drinking in the vodka while holding her stunning auburn hair back with one hand. Her tongue entering my navel, strong but gentle, swirling around to get every last drop, then kissed my stomach when she finished. Maureen invited me here, although her husband, Giorgio, may have been the one actually responsible.

No, she and I shared a connection that first night they came into the restaurant and sat in my section. Her blue eyes followed my every move that night. Her kiss, with those full, ruby lips lingered for long seconds, and I realized this was the first time a woman kissed me since a party in college when I ended up kissing a couple of my girlfriends, photos memorializing those kisses being my most regrettable Facebook photos.

I enjoyed her kiss.

"Giorgio, why don't you go next," Maureen suggested. She is a beautiful woman, even I noticed that right away. Probably in her late forties, elegant I immediately noticed that night I first waited on them, wearing a silk dress the same azure color as her eyes and a body every woman and man dining there that night envied.

Chatting amiably with me all night like an old friend, she made me laugh and enjoy serving them. Perhaps my size XS blouse that made it necessary to leave an extra button undone for a view of my cleavage bringing tips twenty-five percent higher than when I wore it buttoned up—and I kept track. It may have simply been that she found me pretty, but I suspected later, reflecting upon her offer, that the real reason is they desired an Asian girl.

Maureen asked me when I gave them their bill. "We are hosting a party in a few weeks, and we would be honored if you would be our special guest."

"Thank you, but why me? We just met."

"You are lovely, and it would be very stimulating. We would make it worth your while."

Sensing danger, I declined without asking for any details, but my rejection did not offend them, as they paid in cash with a hundred-dollar tip. Returning a week later, they asked to be seated at my table.

This time Maureen wore a charming white dress that looked even more beautiful than the one she previous wore. I remember the silk fabric clinging to her nipples. That night she gave a few details—not many, but offered me a thousand dollars and—when I protested—she assured me it did not involve prostitution, but the exact details remained secret. Suspecting the real reason and reluctant to fall into the stereotype of Asian women being a sexually-submissive plaything for horny white men, I again declined. This time, they left a two-hundred-dollar tip.

Giorgio stepped up to me with an expensive bottle of Tequila. His accent may have been Greek or Italian, faded with age. Tall, dark, perhaps fifty and very fit, he made a perfect companion to Maureen.

"Take this in your teeth," he said, holding up a lime wedge. I bit it with the rind down while he poured the Tequila slowly into my sternum, directly below the center of my chest. Lips wide enveloped it, his tongue wiping up my skin twice before leaning over to take the lime wedge from me in his teeth, our lips meeting for a second.

A mild buzz rose from the others, who I conscientiously avoided making eye contact with. Something arose in me, my arousal growing as it had when his wife drank from me.

The third time they came in, Maureen understood money did not motivate me, but offered me twenty-five hundred dollars for less than an hour. Assuring me I would not have to do anything I did not want to do and that I would remain in control, she then launched into her real sales pitch. "You will feel a power, as well as sensual stimulation unlike anything you have ever dreamed."

"What kind of party is this?"

"Some of the most elite people in the city. Politicians, CEOs, maybe a baseball player or two you will recognize."

"Does this involve sex?"

Laughing, she replied, "Not unless you want sex, and with the people there, that may be tempting. But I am not asking you for sex, nor that is not what the money is for."

After that third refusal of their offer, I did not expect another, but they returned again last Friday, and this time Maureen explained exactly why she wished for me to attend their party. Maybe I would not have accepted if I had scraped together enough change that week for my car payment, but the way she described it, so enticing and erotic without actual sex? I accepted.

That is how I found myself lying here in my bra and panties surrounded by a room full of strangers focusing every eye upon my body sprawled across the table under that chandelier. Maureen in complete control chose the next person. "Tiffany, you are next."

An elegant woman about Maureen's age with short, blonde hair stepped up and poured some liqueur that smelled like oranges into that hollow spot at the base of my neck, and then took it with what can only be described as a sensuous kiss that lasted much longer than the other two, chasing a stray drop down the side of my neck with her tongue after finishing. Several in the crowd cheered this time. She left me with a tingling feeling. "Would you like some?" She held the bottle out.

"Sure," I answered, and she poured a shot of her delicious liquid into my mouth.

The rules Maureen explained were very simple: anyone who wished to drink from my body could. No two people could drink from the same spot, so when they exhausted my front, they would drink from my back, then we would start on the front again from any spot, whether virgin or where someone else had taken their shot. No one could remove my clothing, and I could wear what I felt comfortable in.

The moment I walked into the crowded dining room in that swank mansion and she announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce you to Rose," I felt a twinge of regret for choosing my sexiest black lace bra and panties, but hadn't the guts to turn around and flee.

A man whose name I missed drank from my upper stomach, which I sucked in to make a bowl that he lapped his Scotch from. He offered me some, too, and recognizing the bottle from the restaurant's bar as costing more than $100, I took a shot of the smooth, earthy drink.

Individual voices began to make their way to my ears. Hot. Sexy. You missed some! It continued on, alternating men and women, some more tentative, others more assertive, more sensual in their kisses to my body, some tongues continuing to lick long after all traces of alcohol was gone from my skin.

I watched each person, still afraid to look into the crowd, seeing them for the first time as these strangers prepared to kiss parts of my body that only my boyfriends had ever kissed. A woman drank from one shoulder, bending low to expose her lovely cleavage, her husband mirroring her from the other side.

A Latina spread my leg as people oohed and aahed, asking me to flex so the muscle would form a pocket to drink from that failed to work. Her alcohol ran down my thigh and she licked a large potion of the interior and back of my thigh to get all of it, a sight the audience enjoyed at least as much as I did.

A man poured sticky, sweet Irish cream between my breasts and licked it from me, his tongue moving from above to below the center of my bra to get every drop.

Running out of hollow places on my body, a beautiful woman with striking green eyes poured Grey Goose into my mouth as I held it open for her, then kissed it out, a kiss I returned to applause and approving comments. "Did you get any, Rose?"

"No," I answered.

"Here, for you," she said, pouring my mouth full again, too much to swallow in one gulp, so after swallowing half, she kissed me again and we shared the rest in a long kiss.

Maureen stood over me and ran a hand down my stomach. "I believe we have exhausted the first side; are you ready for the rest, Rose?"

Rolling onto my side while still avoiding the faces around me, I rested my head on crossed arms and closed my eyes.

"Lovely," a woman's voice said.

"You've really outdone yourself, Maureen," a man complimented us both.

"She has a remarkable derriere for an Asian woman," another man said, approval of my thong that apparently offended only me, as several people agreed with his assessment of my ass. The thought that this anonymous racist may have licked my body, or might do so at any moment made my face burn, but my head had begun to spin from the alcohol, so that feeling faded as a woman's lips and tongue ran along the small of my back.

I tried to imagine where else they could find to drink from that side of my body, but a man bent my knee slightly and drank from inside of it, sending a shockingly intense feeling up my thigh as he licked that sensitive skin.

"Would you like some, my dear?"

"Yes," I answered, and he tried to pour, but with my face sideways, he spilled it onto my arm.

"Let's try this way," he said, taking a drink, pressing his lips to mine so I could lap it from his mouth with my tongue, kissing for several seconds after I finished.

A woman drank from my other knee, then a man rolled me slightly onto my side and drank from the side of my butt cheek, holding it with his hand to create a small cup for himself. The woman after him followed suit on my other ass cheek, squeezing me pleasantly the whole time her tongue ran across my skin. The crowd really came alive now.

"She really does have a nice ass," a man said.

"That is where I planned to drink" a woman said with disappointment, inciting laughter and several others agreeing they, too, had wanted to drink from my bum.

The next man found another way to turn my bum into a shot-ass. Squeezing my cheeks tightly together, someone else poured into my crack and the man ran his tongue up between my cheeks several times to cheers and applause. Laughter shook my body so hard we had to wait a while until someone else could drink, so he took a shot and let me kiss Bombay Sapphire from his mouth, which ended my laughing for a second. Then I laughed again.

When I quieted, a woman's hand touched my thigh that I suspected was Maureen's, and I did not mind when she began rubbing the back of my leg, despite her deviation from her carefully laid-out rules. Other hands touched me, men and woman, gently caressing me as a woman pulled my arms back like wings and someone poured something thick and viscous between my shoulder blades and licked me over and over in long, odd strokes.

A man poured whiskey onto the side of my neck and kissed it off, licking drops that ran around the front to my throat.

Maureen asked, "Rose, would you like to turn over again?" I did, and the woman with the orange liqueur poured more into my mouth and licked some that ran out the sides off my cheeks.

"That didn't count! That did not count," she objected as everyone laughed, including me.

A man tried to drink off my inner thigh but had the same difficulty as the woman earlier, ending up licking most of my thigh.

People caressed my legs and my arms this time while others drank from me, my arms held out from the sides by several hands.

A woman bent down to drink from my sternum while I admired the ample cleavage of breasts much larger than mine. Following my eyes, she touched my breast lightly, holding it the entire time she drank, exciting me as much as anything so far.

A man licked my navel, a woman sipped from my neck as fingers and hands ran the length of my arms and legs. The room reeked of alcohol and hormones by then, and I tingled from head to foot, enjoying each hand touching me, each kiss to my body, every tongue that licked me.

A man who may have been eighty, who had once been handsome, looked me up and down before reaching to my bra latch between my breasts. "Do you mind if I undo this?"

"No, if that is where you want to drink."

"It is," he replied, unlatching it but holding it in place, allowing the ends of the hook to fall onto the exposed skin underneath. Pouring a rare Scotch between my breasts, his soft lips kissed me, he licked me slowly, then looked at me with rheumy eyes. "You are a very beautiful young woman. I wish I was young again."

Everyone laughed in appreciation of his comment, so I asked the obvious question, "What would you do?"

"I would kiss you, of course."

"Go ahead, I would like that," I said. Don't ask why, because I would never kiss a man older than my grandfather, but he looked so sweet, and he kissed me immediately, with much more passion than I ever thought possible of an old man. He kissed me for at least a minute, and our tongues danced while the crowd cheered. When he stopped, for some reason I cannot explain, I said to him, "Why don't you take another body shot."

"From the same place?"

"If you liked that spot."

"Oh, I certainly did." Everyone laughed as he carefully poured himself another shot between my breasts and his loose lips sucked every drop from me.

"Alright, you two. People are waiting," Maureen laughed. "Brandy, you have not gone yet."

A woman about my age, the youngest I had seen, stepped up, of course holding up a bottle of cognac. "Do you like Brandy?"

"Love it," I said. She poured my mouth full and kissed it from me, as I drank some, too.

Brandy asked the crowd, "Does that count?" A few thought so, but most wanted to see her drink from my body, so she looked at me and said, "Inhale."

I did, and she contemplated. "Hold it," she said, pouring it onto my upper chest. I watched her lips kiss me, her tongue licking me, her dress hanging open, her exposed breast pressed against mine as she drank from me.

A handsome man in his mid-forties went next, whose name I missed. "Do you mind if I drink from your cleavage?"

Looking down, my breasts flat as I lay on my back, I laughed. "I don't have any right now."

"If you press them together, I think you will make lovely cleavage."

"Or you could try," I told him. He looked like a gentleman and touched me as one, to my disappointment, his hands outside my bra, still open and lying loose over me. Gently pressing them together, he created cleavage that someone poured alcohol into. His face pressed against my breasts, tongue licking them, and sucked it off my chest above it, where liquor pooled.

Maureen sent another woman, beautiful, in her thirties, maybe forty, with eyes black as mine. "I want to drink off your breast," she said.

By now, I would stop no one, so I told her she could. Lifting one cup of my bra to reveal my right breast, several people applauded as she dripped a few drops onto my nipple, licked them off, then a few more. She sucked my breast, repeating it several times. My eyes closed involuntarily as her experienced tongue circled around me, sucking hard.

Hands squeezed my thigh, caressed my arms and stomach, filling my senses with unimaginable sensations.

"Thank you; you are lovely," she said when she stopped way too soon.

"You are, too," I said, meaning it. Someone tipped a bottle of raspberry vodka to my lips and I sucked some down.

A man I would never have allowed touch me any other time took my thighs and pressed them together. He had the look of a serial killer, at least as I imagined them. "You have a very large gap."

"Is that good or bad?" I really did not know.

"Bad if you want to drink from your lap," he said, but he poured it between my thighs and licked it away, his tongue running from just above my knees to an inch or two below my crotch, where they separated despite the pressure from his hands. His nose pressed firmly against the lace of my panties as he licked the upper portion of my thighs.

Maureen stepped forward. "I believe that is everyone. Has anyone not gotten a chance to drink from this lovely woman?" Her hand rubbed my inner thigh as if to rub away the saliva from that last man, then slowed into a caressing rhythm. "No? Rose, can we offer you anything else?"

Her beautiful eyes locked onto mine. I could not blink, I only nodded. Her hand rose higher with each rub until she reached my panties. I nodded again.

Cupping me in her palm, she found my panties moist, even though no one had poured anything on them. Rubbing gently at first, increasing until she firmly gripped me and her fingers pushed the lace into me, she continued. The lace scraped against my clit in a way that sent waves through my core.

A hand touched my exposed breast, but I did not see whose because my eyes were closed. A man's hand. He squeezed me, running his fingers softly across my nipple. A woman's hand slid under the left cup of my bra and took my other breast, doing much the same, only she knew to do so more firmly than the man.

Hands covered me, rubbing, touching, fingernails scratching gently up one arm. Maureen's finger rubbed the lace against me with growing intensity. Someone's lips took one breast, stubble on the chin revealing those lips and that tongue to be a man's. Another took my other breast, a woman, from the feel of it, and began sucking.

My arms and legs both wide as hands touched me from ankle to neck, fingers traced my lips, fingers I licked with flicks of my tongue. Every nerve in my body stimulated now, I could not hold back another second.

My knees twitched, my lips began to move, furiously licking those fingers, one slipping into my mouth for me to suck, that is the only reason I did not scream when the contractions began inside my body, that unidentifiable part where orgasms start. Soon, by entire body, my breasts, my wetness all felt the warmth as these hands, these lips brought me to an ecstasy unlike any I had felt before. Then another.

No one stopped, not one hand lifted from my skin, each continuing until I came for a third time.

I saw the faces in a group as I walked past them, hooking my bra as I walked.

"Goodbye."

"Thank you."

"Lovely woman."

No one touched me, no one asked for my number. Maureen walked in as I had my dress almost on. "You were fabulous, really. Truly incredible. Thank you for coming. I have put something extra in the envelope for you."

"Thank you."

"Are you fit to drive?"

"Yes," I answered hopefully. I stayed on back roads all the way home, because I should not have been driving. My head would have been light if no one had poured liquor into my mouth, but perhaps ten had, so I would have blown well over the legal limit. I lay in bed wishing for hands and lips to still touch me, kissed me, hoping that Maureen would invite me again.

Next time, I resolved, I would not accept a penny.

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