In a Crowded Club

This is a second prequel to The Hen Do parts 01 and 02 and is part of the larger body of work that will become "Saga of Sandra, a Seeker of Pleasure." If I ever get round to putting them all together.

The fictional Lincolns Inn in this story bears no resemblance to the Liverpool rock club of the 70s and 80s. Activities described probably happened somewhere else, maybe to someone else, or maybe in someone's fantasies. Maybe it was all in Sandra's head. Who knows for sure?

All characters in this story are fictional and any resemblance to real people living or dead is purely coincidental. (Yeah! As if). Probably best to pray that none of them reads this.

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"Oh, fuck off," I snapped, "you're turning into such a bloke!" Jay was trying to get a word in; I wasn't letting him. "A twattie one, I might add!"

"I was just saying..." Jay tried to explain as one clubber in the queue glanced around to see what the argument was about.

"You were just saying you don't like how I dress!"

"No, I wasn't. And can we keep the level down a bit?"

"What? Ashamed of being a twat, now?"

"No. I just don't want you to embarrass yourself."

We paused while Jay paid our forty-pence each entrance fee. The music was better at Lincolns Inn and was cheaper than Erics.

"Embarrass myself! You want to see me embarrass myself?" We were walking to the bar area. "Shall I take it off?" I opened a button on my shirt.

"No!" The look of panic on his face was worth every second of this argument.

Jay was the love of my life. He had been since the day I first met him at my mate's house. I knew he and Lilian wouldn't last. Well, not if I'd had anything to do with it.

"Oh! It's okay now, is it? You like this shirt?"

"No. I mean yes. It's always okay."

"Just not tonight?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Its so happens that I like wearing your shirts, Jay."

"I know. And you look incredibly sexy in them."

By now, we were at the bar, waiting for service.

"What's the fucking problem, then?"

"I just thought you might like to try something different. That's all."

"You getting bored with the way I look?"

"Stop being such a fucking woman."

"What can I get you?" the giant with the wild beard asked from behind the bar.

"Two snake bites, please," we said in harmony. I fastened the button again.

"I've got news for you, dear boy. I AM a woman. Otherwise, what have you been putting your dick in for this past..."

"Shut up. For fuck's sake."

"Jay! I think everyone will know we're shagging."

"Maybe. But..."

"What about my hippy wrap-over skirt? You want me to take that off?" I went to grab the ties.

"No!" He grabbed my hand. "I don't?"

"So, what about it? You stopped liking that as well?"

"It's sexy. I love it," his tone was less than sincere.

"Don't you dismiss me, Jay Parkinson!"

"There!" The barman plonked down our two drinks.

"Ta, Love," I said.

Jay handed him a pound note and waited for the change. It arrived.

"I'm not. I love it. I really do," Jay said, more enthusiastically, as we moved away, "I love everything about you. Whatever you wear turns me on." I wasn't about to interrupt this. "You would look sexy in a bin bag."

"Well, no compliment, really. Lots of girls do." It was the seventies, after all. Bin bags, safety pins and Mohicans were the in thing.

"You know what I mean. You could were rags and turn me on."

"Oh, do I make you hard, baby?" I grabbed at his crotch with my empty hand.

"Stop that!" He slapped my hand away.

"Not that pissed yet, eh." One wonderful thing about Jay is that he never suffered from brewer's droop. I could always get a rise out of him. What's more, he was a lot more adventurous after a pint or eight.

The argument then sort of petered out. It wasn't worth carrying on while Jay was making the cellar walls damp.

Over the couple of years we'd been attending the club, we'd made casual friendships. No one we'd invite back home, but some nice people, just the same. So we spent the next two drinks socialising and talking about nothing significant. We heard the tale for about the fifth time about some idiot having thrown a pint glass full of petrol over Big Dave's jeans and following it with a lit match at him. The story was wilder with each retelling, with Dave ending up in hospital with full-thickness burns according to one raconteur. The actual truth was that they were all pissed in the Riverside one night and someone's brother-in-law's cousin's neighbour, who knows who, thought it would be fun to fill a shot glass with lighter fuel and pour it onto Big Dave's thigh and light it. As soon as the flames appeared, Storm had thrown his pint on it, so Dave didn't even get to feel warm. Still, why spoil a good old tale with elements of truth, eh?

Just to clarify, Big Dave was an ex-shag of mine and Storm, his real name Rory, was his best mate.

"Oh, speak of the fucking devil!" Jay didn't sound too impressed as he spotted Big Dave walking through the room. Dave immediately threw his arms around me and Jay's face immediately looked like a Rottweiler about to rip the face off a mugger who'd just attacked his mistress. Storm also hugged me, though he had a bit more respect for Jay than Dave.

Despite the obvious rivalry between my placid boyfriend and my raucous ex-boyfriend, Jay became quite chatty with the two friends after downing his second snake bite of the evening. Then Storm pulled out his stash box and rolled a five-skinner without the need of an album cover. I was impressed.

"Watch out for the bouncers, man," advised Jay.

"Where do you think I got the blow?" Storm replied.

Jay said nothing, but raised both eyebrows in surprise. The joint came straight to me after Strom had sparked up.

"Shit!" I managed to force out a hoarse whisper. "What is that?"

"Black Leb. Wonderful stuff."

"What! Did you put a fucking ounce in there?"

"Hah!"

I passed it to Jay, who took a good draw and passed it to Big Dave. A strong joint with our third snake bite was probably not our most sensible choice. So what? I thought to myself. Taxi home anyway.

The joint passed round a second time, then Dave shouted, "Blow back!" and pushed through to me. Placing the roach between my lips, he put his own lips around the hot end and blew, gently. This was a technique to increase the hit. It certainly did that.

He offered the same to Jay, who politely refused. I'd had enough for a while and said I was going for a wonder. Visiting the ladies to get rid of some of the three pints I'd downed in the previous two hours, I took the opportunity and tried sobering up a little. I didn't even mind waiting for a cubical; in fact, while I was standing near a sink, I threw some water over my face to aid the process and repeated it on my way out. The cold face wash did nothing to sober me up! If anything, it exaggerated the stagger. I even tried going to the door for some air; that didn't help either.

By the time I returned, the club was crowded, and the boys had dispersed amongst the clientele of bikers, hippies, and punk rockers. Though they weren't necessarily to be found in the same area. As I poked my head into the hippies area, the sound of Grantchester Meadows drifted to my ears. As my mind drifted to the open countryside around Ormskirk, where we would sometimes visit my favourite aunty. I felt two arms around my waist and recognised Jay's sensual lips on the neck.

"Hello, you," I said, not turning around.

"Hi. Forgiven me?"

"I'll always forgive you."

His hands drifted up to my breasts, which was not unpleasant. Sliding up higher, they slipped under the strap of my shoulder bag and unpopped one of the shirt buttons as he said, "well, you can take this off now if you want."

I spun around as I fastened up the button. "Fuck off! You're stoned."

"A little bit. But you could. Have you seen the way some of these chicks dress? No one would care."

"What? With this figure?"

"Nothing wrong with your figure."

"I weigh about twice as much as some of these stick insects."

"Bollocks! I'm leaving you too it. Go and find someone to talk to that doesn't put themselves down."

That stung a bit. I watched him wander off and stayed to listen to "Several Species of Fury Animals." Are they playing the whole Pink Floyd album in here? I thought. Why I stayed to listen, I've no idea because I didn't even like the track, but I did then wandered off to find Jay again.

With no sign of Jay, I bought a double vodka and orange at the bar because I just felt like throwing back a decent shot of alcohol. I'd finished it before I'd walked back through the bar queue. It wasn't my best decision. Though I wasn't staggering anymore, my head was certainly not in full control of my body.

The thump of heavy metal grew louder as I entered the main dancing room. The crowd had formed a ring around a girl who danced provocatively, though fully dressed, in the middle. People still danced around the outside of the circle while those close to the action all seemed to be dancing along with the girl in the centre.

The memory of the time when I was at the club with Pam came flooding back. A girl had danced in the same place but was egged on to perform a strip tease, not that she wore that much to start with. She ended up naked, groped by male and female, then joined her boyfriend for a good trouncing. At the time, I had wished that I was confident enough to emulate her; I probably would these days, given enough alcohol. I'd been so turned on by the show that I gave a punk rocker a hand job while he fingered me to a less than spectacular orgasm.

As I watched, I felt a warm breath on my neck. I would have thought nothing of it but for the hand on my arse. I turned to see Storm, a little bleary-eyed, looking over my shoulder.

"Hello you," he said.

"Hi," I said and turned my body. His hand didn't move, so ended up pressed against my mound through my skirt. Whether drunk or stoned, I wasn't sure, but it was enough for me not to mind. "cheeky bugger," I still admonished, and he apologised, moving his hand away. I was a little disappointed.

I realised the girl had left the dance floor when the crowd moved into the circle, giving us room to dance. Whole Lotta Love started, and we moved to the sound automatically. The floor was crowded enough to push us together a little, and it was rather arousing. Damn that Mary-Jane. I was so close that I could feel his dick stiffening against my stomach. It was flattering, though a little weird.

After a few minutes and a change of track, I felt another hand on my arse and turned my head to see Jay, who pressed up against me. I was now sandwiched between the love of my life and a guy I had always fancied. Jay didn't immediately drag me away, which was odd, as he was always a little threatened by Storm. While he felt threatened by Big Dave in a way that current lovers will always feel threatened by exes, and Dave could crush jay in a heartbeat, Storm was a very handsome, charming and loving guy, a lot like Jay in that respect. Instead, he slid his hand around me and fondled my tit, which pressed hard with Storm's chest pressing against mine. My nipple instantly responded and pushed through the cotton of my shirt.

"Behave," I said, turning my head and pushing Jay's hand down.

"What? Don't want me to show who owns you?"

The expression both irked me and aroused me so, when Jay moved his hand back up to tease my nipple, I let it. Having no idea where this was going, I just thought I'd go with the flow. I hadn't thought it through, being too stoned to function that logically.

What happened next was electrifying.

Storm eased back a little, which was disappointing, as our bodies were no longer touching. Then I felt his palm on my other tit! That blow must have been powerful stuff, because Storm didn't behave like this, and I wouldn't let him if he did.

I was confused. Should I stop this before Jay noticed? Would Jay notice? Would he cause a scene? I turned my head for reassurance and found it in Jay's kiss, a kiss that lingered. He broke off the kiss and ran his lips down my neck, kissing me in the special places only he knew, while moving his hand down my body. I looked at Storm, who kissed me! Shit! No, no, no. Not with Storm. It would change everything between us. And Jay hadn't noticed, yet.

My fireplace was already roaring when Jay's hand began to explore through the fabric of the wrap-over skirt that had been a feature of our argument a couple of hours before.

I was a ball of confusion. Conflicting feelings flooded my mind as Storm stepped closer again and kissed the other side of my neck. I'd never been this close to him. Jay had always been jealous of my friendship with him and I dreaded what might happen if he snapped out of this moment and realised. I was on fire down below and willed Jay's hand to find the gap and touch me, skin to skin.

My nipple was like a pebble under the rolling of Storm's fingers. My knees trembled. They would have buckled if either of these men moved away. Frustration took over as Jay's hand moved back up to my tits again. But, wait! What? Storm's hand moved down; it moved behind the curtain of my skirt and pressed against my crotch. A finger ran down the damp valley in my knickers. Waves of electricity fired through me.

My eyes closed and time twisted and folded and turned in on itself. They flickered open, and I saw that a space had formed around us and I caught the glance of a smiling girl, who prodded the guy she was dancing with and pointed at our trio. The situation had just become sexier for being watched. Jay's hand moved away from my breasts, downward into my skirt's waistband and inside my knickers. Christ Storm, I thought, move your fucking hand. I was helpless. In a flash, Jay's fingers were on my clitoris, pressed by the heel of Storm's hand. Shit! But then Jay just carried on, knowing Storm's hand was there.

Within seconds, I was aching for release. A scream attempted to part my tight lips as I tipped over into a trembling orgasm. Now many more eyes were watching the show, but their owners continued to dance.

Jay turned me, my weakened knees objecting to the manoeuvre, and planted a passionate kiss on my mouth while Storm's hands wrapped around me to knead my tingling breasts. Jay's penis was like a cannon straining at his jeans. I lowered my hand to stroke my favourite tool. Almost beyond my control, my other hand glided around my hips till my fingers found Storm's bulge. He jerked his hips backwards in surprise, but quickly brought them back to press hard against my welcoming hand.

Remarkably, we were still dancing, in a fashion, all the while turning slowly. Some people around the room watched us while dancing, some had stopped dancing, others were oblivious.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted?" Jay called, barely audible above the music.

"What? No!"

"You've never fantasised about Storm?"

"No!" I lied.

"Never imagined him, his arms around you, needing your tits?" He glanced down at Storm's hands.

"You know I would never..."

"Of course you would. If you ever thought I wouldn't find out." Jay must have been as stoned as I was. "Enjoy it while you can."

I couldn't believe how aroused I was again. I was not a girl who could get worked up straight after a climax, but Jay's words and Storm's hands on me had brought me there within seconds.

Jay's hand found its way into the folds of my skirt and slid inside the silky fabric of my favourite loose-legged cami knickers. He kissed my neck while his practised fingers toyed with my pleasure centres, and Storm continued to knead my breasts. I stared past Jay's head and locked eyes with a redhead I recognised as the stripper girl from my earlier visit with Pam; It did not surprise me to note her skimpy attire, classier and sexier than the last time I'd seen her. She sported a tiny leather skirt and an open waistcoat that just about covered the nipples of her otherwise bare tits. This seemed to heighten my arousal and soon my knees weakened, my pleasure muscles clenched, and my skin prickled with myriad pleasure needles. I tumbled into another climax while Storm held me upright by the tits. This time I failed to stifle the pleasure moan and a couple of nearby dancers turn to look and grin. Most were too far away to hear me over the pounding rock music.

Both men eased away as I came down and our dancing became more animated, though still close. Whether it was the cannabis I'd smoked earlier, the alcohol, the atmosphere, or just the combination, I was still on fire. As we parted, as if by some telepathic connection, Jay and I both began dancing a variation of the hand jive, commonly called the "Wanker's Stomp," a particularly raunchy dance that entailed gender-appropriate simulated masturbation. Girls always seemed to actually rub their own genitals during the dance, sometimes subtly and some times not so. I was no exception, erring towards not so subtle. I may have been more enthusiastic about this than was strictly necessary.

Jay stopped dancing, came close and kissed me, and then backed off a little. Finding the knot in my shirt, he tried to loosen it. I pushed him back.

"Really! You still want to play that game?" I shouted at him.

He shrugged, still dancing, but with his hands not subtly dangling in front of his crotch.

"Well, if you really want me to..." I called, then popped open a button.

He leaned into me and called, "you wouldn't!"

I spun around, dancing like a stoned hippie, which I suppose I was. I held Storm's gaze while my back was to Jay and Jay's eyes while facing him. My dancing became a little provocative, and I looked at other dancers as I continued, and some looked back, smiling.

"It wouldn't be the first in here," I called into his ear, "and I'm overdressed compared to others."

"You still wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" I challenged.

I turned and Jay came up behind me. "No! You wouldn't. Not after the argument we had," he called into my ear.

I continued dancing and thinking about that red-haired girl whose confidence I so admired back then. I leaned into Jay. "Would you stop me?" I pulled back and popped another button. The shy little girl in me wanted him to; the exhibitionist I'd discovered lurking within didn't.

As I turned toward him, he leaned in. "No," he said. I was sure he would

"I bet you would," I said on my next turn around. By this time, I had an audience of a curious few.

"Dare you to try me," he challenged.

I turned and shimmied up to Storm. The excitement was urging me on. Turning, I held the knot, the only thing protecting my modesty now that the buttons were no longer holding, with both hands.

"Are you sure?" I mouthed as I uncoiled one loop of the knot and pulled on either side, tightening the half knot. He just grinned. I gyrated my hips in dance while opening my arms like a bat, opening its wings and turned to face Storm, who'd stopped dancing, as his eyes opened wide at what I'd just done.

"You're so naughty," he shouted.

"You think this is naughty?"

Having much less friction now, the half-knot had loosened by the time I turned back to Jay. My tits were jiggling, and my audience had grown. I leaned into him, feeling the knot loosen a little more, following the relaxing of the tension. "Stop me if you want to. I won't mind." Jay leaned back and folded his arms while the lower half of him continued a subtle dance. The fabric struggled to cling together.

In the time it took to turn a full circle, the fabric had lost the struggle and my shirt fell open, draping across my breast, hard nipples clinging onto the cotton just enough to keep them covered. Shivering with excitement, I wasn't sure I wanted to call Jay's bluff, but I knew he would stop me before I went too far.