Opening Night: Act 04

Michelle and I were still in bed when the sun had made it a quarter of the way up the bedroom wall. I was on my back and she had curled up beside me, looking quite content with the lynx coat draped around her. Erin, our hostess, was nowhere to be seen. I strained to listen over the muffled street noise but couldn't hear any movement coming from the first floor.

"I think she's gone," I said to Michelle, nudging her furry shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Wake up."

She brought her hand up to her face to rub her eyes; the sleeve of the lynx coat almost covered her entire head as she did so.

"Erin's gone. It's just the two of us."

She rolled over onto her back and the coat opened up, falling away from her belly and sliding down her sides just enough to show the start of the curve of her left breast. Michelle's breath softly fluttered the tawny hairs of the collar that was gathered around her neck.

"I think we should go," I said, looking for some reaction. "We need to get to work in a few hours."

Her head turned to the far side of the bed, and in one slow movement she reached her right arm out to the night stand, grabbed something from beside the lamp, and as she brought her arm back across her chest she rolled on top of me. Michelle was soon straddling me, and was holding a tiny bottle of lube in her hands.

"First," she said, "we need to take care of this little problem of yours."

"But I need to pee," nodding my head forward, acknowledging the erection to which she was referring.

She smiled and flicked open the lid of the lubricant, pouring more than enough over the shaft of my penis. Popping the lid closed and tossing the bottle to her side of the bed, she reached between her legs, opened her labia, and draped them over my foreskin.

"I guess that means you will have a hard time cumming." She began to slide up and down the length of my cock. "Besides," she said, "I really love watching you disappear into this coat." She put her hands on my shoulders to hold me down, and the fur spilled onto my chest and ribs.

It felt like her sex was sucking on me, and every few strokes she would arch her back and take just the tip of my head inside her. Michelle was very lissome and could twist her hips in such a way that her sex would swallow me into her without either of us having to use our hands. She was also very adept at teasing me, and would sometimes keep me erect for what seemed like hours with simple bends and manipulations of her pelvis without ever taking all of my cock inside her.

"I don't think I will have ... any trouble cumming quickly," I said, reaching up and putting my hands under the armpits of the coat. My fingers floated through the yielding fur and finally pushed through the guard hairs and found the resistance of Michelle's body buried deep inside the pelts. "It might be quick," I said, entranced by the sweep and sway of the white and caramel shroud that sweetly lagged behind Michelle's onslaught on my senses, "but I know it will be ... incredible.

She had settled into slow, steady rhythm, like she was trying to apply an even layer of herself over the entire length of my penis. Michelle's face peaked out from between the lush band of fur that had bunched up around her ears. I could see her mouth, open enough to keep her breathing from becoming too heavy; the rest of her body I only imagined buried within the massive downy envelope that appeared to have swallowed her whole, and that was well on its way to swallowing me whole as well.

"You look so helpless."

Her voice was a whisper. She always knew what tone to use when we were making love. I had easily lost myself in her, in the coat, and thought and felt nothing but the insatiable flesh that was beautifully pulling on me and the luscious wrapping that incessantly bobbed against my skin.

I couldn't answer. There were no words that could describe the explosive ache she had created inside of me, or how weak I felt spread across the bed underneath her. My hands fell gently to the drape of the fur that had gathered around her thighs and crumpled up where Michelle's legs met the sheets, the movements of her hips almost imperceptible through the fluffy mound, acquiescing while she took whatever pleasure from me she wanted.

She let her chest collapse on top of me, bringing the full weight and breadth of the tawny fur down with her. With a slight nuzzling of my jaw she tilted my head to the left and kissed the small of my collarbone. Her hair and the lynx fur brushed against my shoulder and cheek, and as I raised my arms and began to fondle the coat that swelled and spilled across her back and seemingly everywhere I looked, dwarfing the two of us, she flicked her tongue quickly and firmly in the nape of my neck and up and down my jugular. I couldn't hold out any longer.

Michelle understood the breaths and moans I made, my own unique orgasmic symphony, and knew she had finally elicited that delicious twitch from me. Her mouth and teeth sunk onto my neck, and as she sucked at me her pelvis drove hard against me and matched each shiver of my cock, pulling on me, and drawing my cum into her until she could no longer feel the gentle pulse that she suspended inside of her.

We lay together until long after my erection subsided and I had slipped out of her sex. I thought she had fallen back to sleep when she finally stirred and whispered in my ear.

"We need to go to work."

"I know."

"And you need to pee."

"And I need to pee."

-

The matinee call had sounded its last bell, and the few remaining people in the lobby ran past the ushers standing guard at the doors, smiling and nodding apologetically as they waived their tickets and scurried to get back to their seats.

Michelle and I had not had the chance to talk since we started our shift. I was about to turn off the cloak room light and lift the floating counter when a courier came in with an electronic signature pad under his left arm and a small envelope in his right hand. He looked around the lobby briefly and settled his gaze at my end of the atrium. He had the gait you would expect from a courier - quick, but in control; the pace of a guy who had double-parked and didn't want to take any chances.

He put the envelope on the counter, pulled the pad from under his arm, and without looking up started tapping in the tracking details for his delivery.

"My instructions were to deliver this to the guy in the coat check."

"That's me," I said.

"You're the only one who works here?," he asked, still tapping away at the LED screen.

"For this shift, anyway."

He finally looked up at me.

"You know someone named 'Erin'?"

I am not sure if my face flushed when he said her name but it sure felt like it did.

"Yes," I replied. "Yes, I do."

"Sign here." He passed the terminal over to me, pulled the stylus from the mount at the back, and pointed to the well-scratched rectangle at the bottom of the dimly backlit panel.

With a cursory look at my signature he tapped the screen a few more times, popped the stylus back in its place, and headed back to his delivery truck.

Michelle had been watching the whole transaction and was kind of amused by it all. Not wanting to attract any undue attention from the ushers, she just shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the envelope on my counter.

"I have no idea," I mouthed, and picked it up.

My name was handwritten on the outside in a very fine script. The only words I can write by hand are my first and last names, and would feel ashamed to even try to make an attempt at cursive writing when addressing a letter. The paper stock was quite nice and had a beautiful tooth to it. I almost didn't want to open the envelope but when I looked over at Michelle she was making impatient hand gestures for me to get on with it.

I reached under the counter and grabbed a small utility knife, squeezed out about an inch worth of blade, and slid it into one end of the top of the envelope. The cutting of the paper echoed through the foyer, and Michelle, no longer willing to wait behind her kiosk, came over to the cloak room and leaned across the countertop.

"What is it?," she asked, trying to pull the paper out of my hands.

"Hang on, hang on." I put the knife down and looked inside. "It's an invitation."

Michelle plucked the paper from my hands and began to read.

"You are cordially invited to an intimate evening with friends. A car service will arrive at your residence this evening at eight o'clock and bring you to the engagement. You will find the appropriate attire for this evening's event waiting for you when you get home."

"What kind of friends do we have who can send a car service for us?," I asked.

Michelle turned the card around and pointed to the bottom. In very elegant handwriting was a note that simply read:

"This is going to be fun. Erin. xoxo"

I looked up at Michelle and could feel my face going beet red again.

"Oh my."

"Oh my, indeed," she said, rereading the invitation. "Oh my, indeed."

-

We couldn't get home quick enough. By the time our shift ended and the last of the audience had finally left the theatre, it was just after 7PM. Michelle and I decided to splurge and took a taxi home. We had agreed that any event Erin was inviting us to was not the kind that would appreciate two people smelling like they had worked near a playhouse concession stand all day.

As promised, our outfits were in garment bags hanging on the hooks by the front entrance, and after checking which bag belonged to whom, Michelle and I raced upstairs for a quick shower. Even having done what we thought was too much primping and preening, we were still ready by 7:40 and found ourselves sitting in the living room on the main floor in our white cotton (and somewhat loose) attire, wondering what we were getting ourselves into.

When the doorbell rang promptly at eight o'clock, Michelle and I almost jumped from our seats and ran to the foyer. We both took a few deep breaths before opening the door. The driver, as mentioned on the invitation, stood on the front step, cap and all, and held out two black masks.

"Erin hopes that you found everything in order."

"We did," I said, and took the masks from him. "Thank you."

"You may hold onto these for now and put them on once we arrive at The After Party."

"We are going to an after party?," Michelle asked.

"Of a sort. That is simply what it has always been called for as long as it has been around."

I was very curious by this point.

"How long has it been around? What happens at these after parties?"

Up 'til then, our driver had been very professional - he had acted exactly as one would expect a chauffeur to act, and he brought you into the world of someone who deserves to be driven around by someone dressed just like him. My questions seemed to unsteady his routine for just a second and when he regained his chauffeur persona he looked at me and spoke firmly but with a mildly apologetic tone in his voice.

"I am not allowed to discuss the nature of The After Party. To do so would jeopardize the benefits I receive in my role as one of the few drivers they use." He paused to make sure that we all knew that the topic of discussion was now closed, and then gestured to the open door of the awaiting limousine.

"Shall we away?"

-

I did my best to follow our route as our driver took us through the city but after going through many alleyways, parking lots, and what were probably restricted city access routes, I gave up and tried to enjoy the ride. When the limo finally stopped it was about 8:30PM. The right-hand passenger door opened and a hand reached in to help Michelle out of the backseat.

"I hope you enjoy your evening," the chauffeur said, closing the door behind me. "Erin will call me when you are ready to leave." With that he tipped his hat, got behind the wheel, and slowly drove up the street and out of sight.

Michelle pulled the invitation from her purse and we both looked for the address. It wasn't printed on the card.

"Where the heck is the address?," I asked aloud, looking for some street numbers on the buildings beside us.

Michelle flipped the card over and looked up and down the row of houses in front of us.

"It's not on the card, and I don't know if you have noticed but there are no numbers on any of these places."

Before we could get too concerned about being dropped in the middle of nowhere with no clue where we were supposed to be, a door two stoops up from us opened and a woman in an outfit identical to ours stepped down towards street level.

"You must be Erin's friends." She motioned for us to meet her on the landing. "Please, come in out of the cold."

Muffled conversations and quiet music could be heard gently spilling out the door that framed her silhouette. Although every window of the brownstone was fully lit, the muted light suggested a very cozy setting for the party inside.

As the heavy wooden door closed behind us, the concierge took our invitation and Michelle's purse and put them in a small locker in the cloakroom to the right of the doorway.

"No need for a claim ticket," she said before we could say anything to her. "We are all friends here."

"Where is here, anyway?," I asked. "The limo driver could only tell us that this was simply called 'The After Party,' and that we would have to wait for someone to explain what that actually meant."

"I am glad to hear he didn't ruin the surprise for you." The concierge smiled, and the way she smiled caused me to blush heavily. She was attractive but that was not what was appealing about her. She gave off a certain aura, one that made you understand that you had just met one of the most genuinely sexual people in the city. Even if she had not been my type I would have still found her extremely alluring.

"'The After Party' is an evening of like-minded people who come together every so often to get to know each other a little better. Some have attended the party for years, and sometimes we welcome new friends, like yourselves."

"But what are we doing here?" Michelle seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time since I met her.

The overseer put a tray of arm bands on the counter in front of us.

"You are here to make friends in any way you wish. These colour-coded arm bands will let the other guests here tonight know what level of," she paused to make sure her choice of words was exactly what she wanted to say, "engagement you would like when you are mingling. If you wish to be approached by only men then you would choose a blue one; if you wish to be approached by men with the chance of something happening then you would choose a blue arm band with the red patch on it." She looked at us to make sure we were following her instructions.

"And I guess the same principal applies to the pink arm bands? Solid for a nice conversation and the red patch for a really nice conversation?"

She gave me that melting smile again.

"You are absolutely correct."

Michelle and I glanced at each other and then down at the tray again.

"What happens," Michelle asked, "if you aren't sure what you want to do? Which one do we wear if we just want to sit back and get a feel for what this place is all about?"

She pointed to the gray bands.

"A neutral colour for a neutral course. No one is asked to do anything they are not comfortable with. The black masks are optional if you want to feel a little more anonymous. That being said, would you like me to give you a few moments to think about your options?"

For what was supposed to be a nice evening out this sure was turning into one of the biggest decisions of our lives.

"Yes, please," we both let out at the same time.

-

We were still fiddling with our pink arm bands and masks when we got to the top of the stairs.

I had just finished smoothing out the folds of my shirt underneath the added circle of fabric when I heard Michelle gasp as she stopped at the threshold.

"Ho-ly crap!"

I lifted my head and turned to see her mouth hanging open, and then turned to see what made her go white as a sheet.

"Holy crap!"

The street façade for the building was just that, a complete fake meant to make the space we were in now conform to the rest of the neighbourhood. The interior of the house extended three units up the street, and the second floor was completely missing making for a grand hall that was open but was decorated in such a way that, even if were devoid of people, would have felt quite cozy. The architecture, however, was not what had left Michelle and me awestruck.

We had walked into the most elaborate, most decadent costume ball ever imagined. And any one of the outfits that filled the room before us would have made the most enthusiastic and discerning fur, fluffy, and feather fetishist swoon with delight.

"This explains why it felt a bit chilly when we came in," Michelle said, nudging my arm.

I remembered that she had said something but it didn't register. Nothing registered except for the sea of tactile delight wafting across the floor in front of us.

"What?," I said, not so much speaking the word as letting it piggyback on a breath.

She nudged me harder this time and I looked over at her.

"I said this explains why it felt cold when we walked in the front door. They need to keep the temperature down so everyone doesn't overheat."

I thought I muttered it quietly enough when I said that I was about to overheat but I guess I didn't because Michelle replied with an equally muted 'I bet.'

I don't know which one of us saw her first but neither Michelle nor I could look at anything else in the room as soon as we noticed a woman in white walking towards us. Her costume was phenomenal - were it not for the fact that it was all white she would have fit in perfectly in Hell.

She wore a goat mask with small horns poking up from beside her ears and short black boots that must have been specially made to look like hooves and gave her an extra three inches in height. The bodice of her outfit was a knitted, gauzy angora body-hugging masterpiece - it wasn't made from angora that you would find at your local craft store; it was thick and fluffy and the hair bobbed and flowed as the woman approached us.

The bottom half of her costume was what caught my attention the most. Her pants were made of angora goat pelts; they bulged out at the thighs and tapered down to her ankles to give her the appearance of having extremely powerful legs. The whole effect was that she looked like a mythical god, one for which I would have gladly sacrificed myself.

"I see you are looking for some conversation," the goat said to us, pointing at our arm bands.

Michelle and I were still stunned by the gorgeous body that was covered by the formidable costume standing before us.

It wasn't one of my more intelligent openers but I somehow managed to come out with "What?"

The woman in white smiled down at us.

"I said that I see you and Michelle decided to choose the pink arm bands. The conversation starters. I figured you would both take the more modest approach to the evening."

We finally clued in that it was Erin who was towering over us.

"Your outfit is ... ." Michelle paused to look our hostess up and down again. "It's breathtaking."

Erin smiled at the compliment and twirled around to give us the full effect.

"I am a Sagittarius, you know. I have always had an affinity for the story of the half man, half goat." She smiled and ran her hands down her chest, her fingers almost disappearing in the fluffiness of the loose-knit angora as it allowed her nipples to poke through the fuzz just for a second, and over her flat belly to her pelvis. "Half woman, I should say."

I couldn't help but think 'all woman,' but didn't say it aloud.

She waived her arms, inviting us to leave the safety of the doorway behind.