Party Animals

Eventually the woman in red confirmed what the men all claimed, they had each transferred $100 into Matilda's account, adding up to the payday she promised she would honour.

Matilda undid the clasp of the bra and pulled it away from the spray on adhesive holding it in place. She had gotten used to the slight sting of removing her bra in this way as a price for not showing off her nipples to customers, now it was the exact opposite. She placed her bra on a tray and shuddered at her exposure, her vestigial class baggage screaming at her that she was whoring herself out, that she was better than this. She knew she was better than this, but she also knew a lot of other people were better than this and still went through this experience regularly, so she silenced that voice as she peeled off her bikini bottoms and placed them on the tray. She then gathered up the empty glasses and continued into the party, internally screaming with embarrassment and shame.

...

"You sure that was a microdose?" Barnaby asked for the hundredth time.

"You're fine, man." One of Marcus' friends reassured for the hundredth time. "Come on, we can't stay in here all night. Let's go out into the party and have some fun."

Barnaby stepped out into the party and felt the world pulse with his movement. He had to admit, it wasn't the melting reality and endless colourful fractals TV had told him hallucinogens induce, instead the physicality of the world bent to the thrum of his own body. If he felt a little melty the walls would oblige, if he decided to stop and stare at a fascinating pattern, the pattern would dance for him, reality was something that simply stepped aside in the moments when Barnaby had other things to focus on.

Barnaby giggled.

Barnaby then realised the acid was swirling amongst a huge volume of liquid. He spent a moment musing about the collection of fluids sloshing around his stomach, not allowed to mingle with other fluids until they had been corrected by his bodily processes. His body had to be pretty fascist against those poor liquids. If it wasn't, he would die, but that didn't make it any less sad. Then again the processes weren't perfect, otherwise he wouldn't be tripping balls. So fascism mixed with incompetence at least means fun in a biological sense.

"Wait, where did I start again?" Barnaby said far louder than he thought he had.

Liquids...

'How would you imprison a liquid, it's all sloshy, it would just slosh through the bars. My liquids certainly feel sloshy as they wait for the Gestapo of enzymes, valves, and nodes to correct them to be productive members of the totalitarian regime of my body.'

"Pee! I need to shit." Barnaby yelled. He stopped for a second and decided he needed to take another run at that sentence, the words were right but the order was wrong. Not wrong, inaccurate, there is a difference but Barnaby forgot what it was for a second. He had also forgotten what the accurate statement he was aiming for was. Maybe the underground resistance of fluids had smuggled it away, maybe that sloshing was them celebrating a strike against the evil empire of his body, or maybe it was...

"Shit! I need to pee."

Barnaby thrummed towards the toilet, he opened the door, apologised to the door, closed the door, apologised to himself, opened the door again, stepped inside the bathroom this time, apologised to his reflection in the mirror, closed the door, apologised to the lock, locked the door, then realised he had been on the verge of pissing himself over for this whole interaction so he should have been hurrying.

He apologised to his sense of urgency.

After spending 3 years, 4 minutes, and a day peeing, Barnaby stood up and drew in a deep breath. The room expanded and contracted with his breath and he found it novel enough to take a few more deep breaths and giggle at the room moving with him.

He walked over and unlocked the door...

"Oh wait." He yelled to himself before remembering he didn't need to speak. 'Let's splash some water on my face, that's what they do in the movies.'

He went to the sink and splashed some water on his face.

'There we go, that helps, I think I'm through the worst of it. Look how the water is sparkling, that's normal. Look how the toilet roll is sparkling... wait, that's still...'

Barnaby splashed water against his face a few more times.

"Alright that fixed everything. I doubt I'm even high any more." Barnaby said to himself. He turned around and watched as a naked woman with pink hair barged her way into the toilet, locking the door behind herself.

Barnaby splashed water against his face a lot more times.

Gwen was amazed at how confusion could push even fear and mortification out of her mind. She entered the toilet to see Barnaby stare at her in fear and then begin relentlessly splashing water on his face, and she even stopped covering herself in the weirdness of it all.

"Alright, cards on the table, I took a bunch of acid and now it looks like you're naked. Now I didn't think that's how hallucinations worked and I promise I'm not trying to be a creepy guy but..."

"It's alright, that's not the acid, I am actually naked." Gwen interrupted, sensing that Barnaby needed even more help than her getting to grips with the situation.

"Ah, agriculture." Barnaby knowingly acknowledged.

"What?"

"I don't know."

There was an awkward silence that lasted somewhere between 4 seconds and 13 years.

"I suppose we should go deal with them." Barnaby acknowledged, decisively heading towards the door.

"Who? What? No!" Gwen stuttered, throwing her body in the way and physically bouncing Barnaby away from the door.

"My left bicep touched your nipple." Barnaby shamefully informed as he looked at the floor.

"It's fine, I've had worse tonight, which is why I'm not leaving this room." Gwen replied.

"We can't leave the room?" Barnaby asked, his eyes growing wide.

"I mean you can, I just..."

"Nope, don't like that. I need to be able to leave rooms I've arrived in, otherwise other rooms will be un-arrived upon." Barnaby explained, beginning to freak out.

"You can leave the room whenever you want, I'm just choosing not to." Gwen calmly explained to the increasingly agitated Barnaby.

"Well that's no way to establish your brand." Barnaby replied with the most serious look he could muster, then his face softened. "You're nice. Trustworthy. You have said nice words to this old Knickerbocker even though you didn't have to. Well I'm going to leave now."

Gwen rolled her eyes and then had a moment of guilt for what a man in this state could expect from the party.

"Before you go, a few more nice words." She sighed before he could get to the door. "This night is good and people are good..." Everything Gwen had experienced tonight said otherwise but she feared for this man having a bad trip. "Things may feel incomprehensible, but as long as you stay at the house until the acid wears off, and out of the swimming pool, and kitchen, then no bad things should happen to you."

Gwen then gave the man a hug, trying to ignore the feeling of his suit pressing against her bare skin. Barnaby awkwardly rearranged his hands to try and take in the genuine warmth of the hug without ruining it by touching something rude like her butt or shoulder blades.

"Thank you, that does make me feel stronger. I feel like I could handle anything." He announced, before stepping out of the toilet and immediately seeing his wife serving drinks naked.

...

'Shit!' thought Meagan as she snaked through the party, ignoring the occasional squeeze of her bottom that she thought she wouldn't have to deal with again when she made manager. She had just seen Matilda's husband leave the private room, humm at a vase, gurgle at the ceiling, then walk to the toilet while wiggling. 'I can see why Matilda dumped his ass.'

She felt that if she could find Matilda, she could hide her in the kitchen again until this weirdo left the toilet and found a new area of the party to settle down in. But she couldn't find her anywhere. She saw a large crowd and a commotion by the beer pong table and decided to see if Matilda was nearby, instead she arrived just in time to see Gwen peeling off her bikini and exposing her naked body to the crowd.

'She isn't one of my employees.' Meagan thought to herself. She was about to get involved when the poor girl pushed her way through the crowd and ran away. 'As much as I want to find out what is going on, that is not my most pressing problem.'

She searched mostly the outside area as that's where the big tippers were hanging out and Matilda always had a keen eye for who had means and motive to tip well. She searched every corner of the garden, getting more and more worried by the moment and never spotting Matilda.

"...So how about it sweetheart?" A drunk man concluded. Matilda's boss had not been listening to the first part of a conversation he drunkenly thought was mutual, and asked him to repeat itself. "Are all the waitresses willing to serve the party naked for $500 or was that other one special? Because I'm sure me and my friends would be willing to club together to see more of you."

"Which way did the naked waitress go?" She barked. The man stayed schtum but his eyes darted from the billiards table area back to her and then she knew.

Matilda had been uncomfortably getting on with her job since she surrendered her bikini. She was trying to rise above her humiliation through academic curiosity. The transferability of the forms of power working in inverse, whereby someone's weakness in transactional power had been converted into a weakness in reputational power and infra-political authority.

But a stranger running his finger across the opening of your pussy does tend to interrupt the train of thought.

Matilda had thought that the errant hands were bad enough before, but now she was naked, people no longer felt the need to be restrained or subtle. Before it was mostly her bottom getting caressed with the odd brave man reaching over to squeeze her breasts before quickly making sure his hand returned to the anonymity of the surging crowd. But now that Matilda was naked, it was understood that she had fully crossed the line of consenting to be a raw sexual being, so nobody felt the need to hide their desires any more. Men would stand in her path and grab both of her breasts with their hands, kneading them for a couple of seconds without shame. Worse still, now her pussy was exposed to the world, it also found itself the target of wandering hands, the probing fingers asserting themselves on her labia as best as they could as she moved past.

Matilda hoped at the very least she was still earning tips. Everyone had eaten their fill a while ago so food service had been reduced to a table of leftovers people could go back to if they wanted a snack, and everyone had stopped ordering Matilda to get them drinks since they didn't want to earn the ire their friends would direct at them if they sent away the only nude waitress, so Matilda focussed on cleaning up empty glasses and errant plates while enduring the ongoing violation.

When she got to the billiards tables a man took one look at her and menace filled his face.

"So you're doing this for tips right? Must be desperate for money. What else would you do for a tip?"

"None of you will be fucking me tonight." Matilda sternly stated.

"Alright, alright. Misread the room much? I'm just talking about a bit of mischief. I'll tip you $50 if I can draw a penis on your ass." He offered, collapsing into laughter with his friends that was cut silent by Matilda's response.

"OK. But I want to watch you make the payment." Matilda agreed. She watched him send the tip through Cashday, then turned around and offered her ass for its humiliation. She wondered where all these Sharpies were coming from as she felt the tip of the pen gliding over her buttcheek. After a couple of moments she twisted her body to see the damage, a thick black line drawing of a penis pointing directly at her anus.

"How much to draw another one on your tits." A different man asked.

By the time Matilda's boss found her, a man was in the middle of writing 'whore' across her stomach. Meagan was too late to stop the penises drawn on her bottom, left breast, thigh, and pubis.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She yelled with such intensity, Matilda's new high rollers immediately awkwardly cleared out.

"Don't worry, I was going to pool the tips with the other servers and kitchen staff. I'm not a hog." Matilda reassured, thinking that was the main problem her boss had.

"You're naked and letting men draw on you!"

"I also have rent and bills due, we all do, so five hundred bucks for my nudity and fifty bucks a pop for the drawings means we all won't have to worry for a bit after this party." Matilda explained.

"What if this gets out? We could lose our licence."

"Private party full of lawyers who will want us at future parties, we'll be more covered than you can imagine if this somehow makes it out." Matilda reasoned. Her boss thought it through and decided as long as Matilda was taking all the flack she didn't mind raking in the tips. She almost walked away before realising the actual reason she had been looking for Matilda.

"Your husband is..."

"What the fuck?" Yelled Barnaby from the edge of the billiards area. Matilda had one moment to take in what had just happened, and another to flee out the back door and jump into the swimming pool hoping to evade him.

~~~

How Tara Tilly ended up at the party

~~~

"Do I have to go?" I asked petulantly.

"Yes, my wife gets back in ten minutes." My lover replied, anxiously packing up my things.

"Urgh." I sighed. I can't believe it had happened again. Fuck me for chatting up age appropriate men I guess. Once I hit my mid thirties it seemed the only men interested in me were either a couple of decades older, creepily younger, or married. I know I'm hot even if I have to constantly reassure myself about it all the time. Luscious strawberry blonde hair with just the right amount of curly bounce, a bit too curvaceous for the average shallow man but an almighty bust that dominated all discourse about my body, I knew I was a catch, but somehow all I could land were creeps.

This guy didn't have a ring on when I struck up a conversation in the bar. It was not a cheap bar and he kept buying me drinks so I knew I was doing well for myself. When I decided to go back to his, we got a taxi to the posh area of town and I thought I had hit the jackpot. I even took an Addyi on the road, a pleasure drug a friend told me about, so I would be chemically horned up and ready for a good time.

Then we had sex.

I can usually tell a married man by the way he has sex. It's like I'm a rally car and he's a drag racer, well tuned but for a different body. He did this thing where he nibbled my earlobe that did nothing for me, but made him smile like he knew about a secret second clitoris.

His bad rhythm barely changed as he fucked me doggy style, like he was used to a woman whose body swayed and reacted in time with his own. So when he was done I was left worked up and unsatisfied, abandoned to his ringing phone, then told to leave as quickly as possible. Not the worst one night stand I had ever had but in my bottom five.

I'd taken revenge on these cheating assholes before and decided to do it again. I got dressed and went to his bathroom despite his protests. Then I rolled my knickers down under my white summer dress and left them in the medicine cabinet.

Next I clumsily removed my bra, pulled it out from the sleeveless shoulder of my outfit, and left it dangling behind the shower curtain.

'She's bound to find one of them and then that prick will have some questions to answer.' I thought to myself as I strutted out of the bathroom.

"Come on, come on, let's go." He ordered, banishing any lingering crumbs of guilt I had.

"Did you book me a taxi?" I asked.

"No, my wife is going to be here any minute, she can't see a taxi." He garbled in a panic.

"Cool, I'll just walk home then, I bet these high heels make great hiking boots." I sarcastically yelled back as he used charades to beg me to keep my voice down. I decided I wasn't going to get anything out of him and walked to the front door, then was tackled like a president with an over cautious security detail as headlights shone in the front garden.

Now I was on the same page as him. I was happy to ruin his marriage but the number of women who blamed me when their shitbag husbands pretended to be single was absurd. What am I supposed to do, keep a register of marriages with me at all times to cross reference my potential lovers on before I go home with them? I wanted out of there before fists started flying.

I ran to the back garden and he opened the gate leading out into the dark rolling hills of the night time countryside. Then I was alone.

'Fuck!' I realised with a start, 'that asshole still has my handbag.' I wondered what to do alone on the foothills with nothing but my dress and the high heels I now held in my hand as my bare feet took one step at a time on cool dewy grass. 'Where do I even go?'

At that moment, by way of response a huge cheer rose from a neighbouring house. They were having a party, hopefully they have some heart for a poor woman wronged by a fucking asshole. Hell, if I was lucky I could stay there tonight and venture back to his place in the morning to retrieve my stuff.

Plus before one of them gives me a lift home, maybe they can actually fuck me to orgasm. It certainly wasn't helping my state of sexual frustration to be walking commando in a summer dress, feeling the fabric caressing my skin and my unclad nethers tingling every time the wind picked up enough to lift the skirt. The Addyi was doing its job far too well and every step just made me hornier.

It took some time but eventually I arrived at my new destination, ravenous with surfing lust. There was nobody gatekeeping the entrance so I just walked in.

This party was wild, there were girls in bikinis, wild games, people at all various stages of fucked up. This was the dream party of some of the teenage boys who had tried to cast me as a cougar in their coming of age fantasies.

'Alright.' I thought to myself, 'maybe I'm not that much in a hurry to head out.'

I grabbed a glass of wine from a bar, then realised I had some catching up to do after the sobering experience I had just been through so drained a couple of shots of something that tasted like fermented unspecified fruit. As I headed outside to the pool, a confident man in a suit stepped in front of me.

"Naughty naughty, you're not on the guest list." He cheekily chastised. "And I would know, my name is Marcus Selassie and this is my party."

He was being cheeky and casually throwing his status into the conversation. This man was interested, and maybe if he threw parties this wild, he'd be just as wild in the bedroom.

"Tara." I replied by way of an introduction. "I was in the neighbourhood and couldn't help but come inside."

"I can tell you're going to fit right in. I need risk takers like you to kick this party up a notch." If this was insufficiently wild for him, I was filled with wonder and dread about how far he wanted to go. "How are you at twister?"

"Terrible." I honestly replied downing my drink. "But always up for practice."

"Alright then. I'm going to get you another drink then we'll meet at the twister mat. I'm also going to use that time to think of a good forfeit for the loser." Marcus announced, snaking his way into the party and leaving me optimistic and thrumming with anticipation, I was learning first hand how horny drugs interacted with too much alcohol.

I walked around the perimeter of the pool towards the twister mats, my mind racing with possibilities and clouding with intoxication. This night may go from bottom five to top three, I hadn't had this much excitement since I was at college, this is going to get freaky.