Strange Days Pt. 01

I also admired Laura who heard the warnings and wasn't daunted. She reclined on her back with her hands clasped behind her head and feet planted on the floor. Adam and I had our fun with her for about ten minutes. We ran several cubes over her body until they melted and her skin glistened. We rubbed the ice around her throat, across her breasts, over her nipples and down her stomach and into her crotch. I would have stopped there, but we were still following the lead of Charlotte and James. When she admonished us "Don't leave it inside her for more than a minute," Adam got the message first and slid the ice into Laura's body. She winced and trembled, clenched her jaws to keep from squealing, and tensed her body to stop squirming.

While Adam was working down below, I repeated the circuit of her face, neck, breasts and belly. I stared into that beautiful face hidden behind her blindfold and, knowing what she was feeling, wondered what she was thinking. Her skin, though slippery with a glaze of meltwater, was quite warm until the ice passed over it. Her occasional twitch and shiver were not, I was sure, a response to the cold but rather from arousal and anticipation. And as I ran my hands over her luscious body, it was like a dream. In my wildest fantasies I had not imagined this. And then Adam dropped two new cubes onto her stomach and nodded at me. We didn't speak, but Laura must have known that it was I who was about to penetrate her.

I whispered "You okay?" She smiled but bit her lower lip.

By the time I had finished with her, my fingers were numb from the chill, so I can only imagine what it was like for Laura. Of course, our hosts knew their business. They provided bowls of heated water so that we guys didn't end up with frozen fingertips. Adam took over again to apply the ice between Laura's legs before, finally, she sat up and shook her head. I helped her, still blindfolded, to her feet, but she slipped through my arms to sit on the carpet. She stayed sightless for the rest of the game, listening to the chorus of sighs and gasps and moans. Some girls were quite loud while others remained stoically silent.

Kat was perhaps the most taciturn of all. While awaiting her turn, unlike the others who showed a variety of emotions (mainly impatience, I was relieved to note), she showed — dare I say it? — an icy indifference. So maybe to stir up a more impassioned response, Adam proved quite cold-blooded — okay, no more puns — as he went about his business, and I wantonly followed his lead. Our victim never flinched. As I glided the ice over her flesh, I was impressed at how rock solid were her muscles. She had a flinty toughness matching her steely disposition. When I slid my chunks of ice between her legs, I saw the tendons on her arms tighten and her lips puckered ever so slightly, but she stayed silent and immobile as I ran my fingertips through the wet matted hair — she was unshaven down below — and pushed the ice just a little bit between her folds and held it there. She brought a hand down to brush mine away and I thought she'd found her limit. Instead she pushed the ice further into her body with two fingers. It stayed there until it had completely melted and the frigid water dribbled down the insides of her thighs onto the tabletop.

By the end of this game, which James called "Ice-and-Slow", the girls needed a break. It was closing in on midnight, and for the first time a few of the couples engaged in some dalliance. No one could blame the guys in particular for taking the opportunity for a bit of intimate caressing and fondling, but everyone stayed in the room, and those of us without romantic partners relaxed, chatted, listened to music, drank some more. I was thinking that the CMNF was over; but the girls remained naked.

Laura, it didn't surprise me, was holding court with her devotees, talking and laughing with two or three guys at a time. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, giving her courtiers an unimpeded view of her glorious womanhood. Any trace of the shyness and coyness that she and the other girls might have displayed early in the evening had melted away like the ice cubes.

However, the pair who perhaps had the best time of it were Nessa and Julie, a lesbian couple. They were what might be described as a "stud-femme" and "lipstick lesbian", and they conformed to these labels. Nessa had short, spiky hair and came to the party in dungarees and Doc Martens boots. Julie wore a frilly dress and glitter-covered sneakers. Of course, both stripped off their clothes and took an eager part in the games. But those which involved male-female partnering caused an interesting dilemma. Being proudly female, Nessa was happy to be naked and certainly didn't want to be treated as a male. However, during the musical chairs she was one of the seated players. None of the women had any more qualms about performing with her than with the males, and she enjoyed herself as much as the clothing-wearers — if not more.

As for the Ice-and-Slow, I wasn't paying attention, being focused on my own task, but assume that Nessa and Julie switched positions. At the end of the games they kissed and cuddled, and appeared more relaxed than the other smooching couples. This was because both were nude; and it reminded me of the mixed message behind CMNF. When the woman is naked and the man fully clothed, that can be interpreted as her asserting herself by expressing her sexuality in its most potent form; or it may be seen as an expression of his dominion over her. For Laura, always in control of her relationships, I could assume it was the former. But then, I had never seen her in make-out mode. And for a mad moment I was tempted to try my luck. Of course I resisted the urge, though it wasn't a matter of chickening out. There was still too much of a familial bond between us. I could gaze upon her naked body, and she seemed pleased to be gazed upon, and I could touch it as part of a game; but there would be no going further.

The party continued almost till dawn, albeit more sedately. The highlight was an impromptu round of Ice-and-Slow. Rachel didn't drink alcohol and I was a moderate imbiber, so we were both somberly sober and in need of stimulation. She winked at me, then lay on her back on the coffee table, spreading her arms and legs. It was interesting that she chose the marble top. She grimaced as her bare derriere touched it.

As I brushed the ice over Rachel's sleek body and satin-smooth skin, her eyelids flickered and then closed, her lips pursed, her nipples rose and the flesh between her thighs began to twitch. Even with everything which had happened that night, I had never a woman so completely in my thrall. She was softly moaning; her feet began to drum on the floor; her head rolled to one side then the other; but she kept her arms at her side, so that I would have total control. It was extraordinary how she could be so passive and yet, by her responses, so self-assured in guiding me to how far I could go. I decided to be more aggressive, teasing her most tender and sensitive parts. Her eyes opened and connected with mine, and I marveled at how wonderfully vulnerable and sexy she was, lying there naked, writhing and trying to keep from laughing hysterically as I tormented her. And when I passed the cube down over her belly, her right hand moved for the first time, to direct mine over her pubes. I was reluctant to go all the way but she pressed my fingers and the ice into her crease. She bit her lip, but in ecstasy not agony, and she held my hand in place.

At the end she sat up and stared at me. For the first time since she had stripped off her clothes, that pretty face showed a tinge of regret. We both struggled for words until she heard Jake's voice and turned away, just not fast enough for me to miss her expression of relief. They left the party not long after.

Eventually we all went home. For some time Laura and I did not talk about that night; but nothing seemed to have changed between us. So I decided that it had been just another of her "extreme" adventures. Yet there would be a sequel, and not even anything at the CMNF party prepared me for that.

In the meantime, I had my last tute group meeting with Rachel before the end of semester. It was just two days following the party. We convened on the lawn outside Lakeside Hall. Rachel took the lead, businesslike and confident in a discussion about expectations for the year's second half. She was wearing jeans and a sweater; the sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm; but whenever my eyes and hers met she shivered. She quickly looked away with a mischievous smile. I don't know if the others even noticed this. None were aware of what we were recalling — that I had seen our sanguine, take-charge group leader in a different setting, in the flesh, in all her bare-skinned glory. I had gazed upon her exquisite naked torso as she lap-danced for me, had teased that delectable body with cubes of ice, watched the rivulets of meltwater dribble from her breasts and belly. Of course, those were my thoughts. I cannot vouch for Rachel's.

Anyway, it was Kat's offbeat persona which gave me the most food for thought. I was struck by how impeccably she embodied that combination of coy and coquettish, provocative and passive, displayed by all the women to some extent. Still, it took a lot of courage to go where they had gone that night. And a way I envied them. Before that evening I would have sworn it would be the males who'd get the most pleasure from the party. And as the night progressed I might have felt superior to the females, wrapped up as I was in the accoutrements of masculinity. But it was impossible to feel any self-importance. We males were really no more than onlookers to the women's experience. Any pleasure we felt was subsumed by theirs.

And so this is how it ended, the first leg of a journey into very strange territory.