The Comedienne

And, as I looked sideways at him to see if he was repulsed or excited, I couldn't deny he was hot.

"Yes!" she said, emphatically, "you do! She does. Don't listen to her."

"Who said I want to stick anything in anyone's ass?" James said, with that huge handsome grin. Well, he wasn't repulsed.

"Are you telling me, that you, Mr. Handsome, who is clearly into little Ms. Comedienne here, wouldn't like to get the chance to fuck her ass, no questions asked?"

"Who said I wasn't asking questions?" I blurted out.

"See," Claire said, with a winning smile directed at James. "Clearly not a no."

"Jesus Christ, this so isn't happening!" I playfully stuck my fingers in my ears. "La, la, la, I can't hear you."

James took one of the glasses, and held it in his hand as he leaned forward onto his elbow. His shoulders shifted as he did, and it was just magnificent. "I want to come back around to that panty thing a minute ago," he said with a smile, "but seriously. Why comedy?"

I don't think that he could have said anything to disarm me any more completely than that. I just stared at him, unaware of the awed smile on my lips, and said nothing.

"It's not, because like, the anniversary of your dad's death was last month or anything, right?"

"Oh," I gasped, snapping back to the moment. "No. No, nothing like that."

"Are you going to tell him?" Claire said.

"I figured you'd blurt it out for me eventually."

She folded her arms and sat back a little, with a calm arch to her brow.

"Fine," I sighed. "It's just been... not a great year. The divorce has been dragging on for months now, and—"

"You're getting divorced?" he said, interrupting.

"—and," I repeated, emphatically, "you know, my daughters are getting older. They're not gone yet, but they certainly don't need me for very much anymore."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Claire snorted. "Tell him about the other half of it."

I kicked her, again, and ran my tongue along the inside of my gums. It was funny how the depressing part of it was the easier part of it to tell.

"Literally everyone in her life has been pushing her to do this," Claire said. "Me, her daughters, her mom, even my mom and they barely know each other. Oh my god, and the station she's based out of? They do a quarterly party where they show the funniest body and dash cam footage, and it's always full of Mags here making speeders and drunks look like complete fools."

"Is that true?" James asked.

"I plead the fifth."

"She's so good that they started giving her challenges to make it interesting. Work in the word Meteoric, or... What was that—"

"Rapture," I said, intuiting where she was going, and Claire gave a chuckle and shook her head. "They also tried to get me to use lightsaber, tenderloin, schmeg, ambassador, and paprika."

"And did you do it?"

"Please," I laughed, and took a smug sip from my JD and coke. "I have to give myself extra rules, like it doesn't count if they question it or seem confused."

"She's good," Claire added.

"I'm getting that," James said, with a slow smile spreading across his lips.

"Be a dear and get us one more round?" Claire asked.

James nodded and slid out from the booth, and she watched him go with hungry eyes. Then she turned to me.

"The train has left the station. You know that, right?"

"What?" I asked, blinking in confusion. "Where is this train going?" I got annoyed with myself that that was the best I could come up with.

"Your ass, definitely your ass. Listen though. Whatever happens from here, we'll meet back up for breakfast at nine at the hotel."

"How can you be thinking that far ahead?"

The lights dimmed around us, and the music faded down to almost nothing.

"This might be your first one night stand," she said with a smirk, "but it is far from mine." She leaned in close to me as she turned, watching James as he approached, and whispered, "No matter what happens, just remember that I'm doing this for your own good."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She just gave me a wink in response. "Here," Claire said, waving James over. "Come sit on this side with us so you can see the stage."

"Is there room?" he asked.

I bristled; there was clearly lots of room. I looked at him, eyebrow raised, but he and Claire were sharing a moment.

"Barely, thanks to Mag's big fat ass, but I think we can make it work. Now and later."

"I certainly hope we can," he replied. "It was very impressive up on that stage."

Claire almost bounced in her seat with excitement. "I knew you'd noticed," she said before chalking up an imaginary point in the air. "You just wait. It'll look even better later on."

I flushed inside. Their banter reached down into a strange part of me. I glared at both of them, wanting to come back with something funny, but they were still lost in each other.

Claire moved to the edge, and I slid over, tight against her, to make room for James on my right. Claire reached an arm up over my shoulder, and after a moment James did the same. It was either like I belonged to them or was a prisoner they didn't want to escape. I wasn't sure which, and got a strange feeling it was probably both.

"Wait till you feel the thong," Claire said over me, as if I wasn't there.

"Your thong? The one that must be too small for that big ass?" James said in a husky voice.

I'd never heard anyone's voice change so drastically with desire like James' did in that moment, not even my husband.

I tried ignoring them and focused on the show, and then I felt their hands on my legs. They had each reached across, with the palms of their outer arms resting gently on my thighs. Both of them began to creep inward. My breath came faster and faster, and in the very corner of my eye I could see James staring down at my cleavage. All that heaving must have been distracting for him, especially when I arched my back a little, because when I looked down I saw Claire was having to guide James' hand between my legs and up to the hem of my dress.

"This is not happening here," I hissed, trying to squeeze them out, but their hands didn't move. They just waited there, insistently, pushing up ever so slightly. They wanted access, both of them; two hands insisting I part my legs for them. The attention and anticipation was incredible. I couldn't believe I was holding them at bay, though I had no idea what it was I was preventing.

After a moment I sighed. My resolve weakened momentarily, and I relaxed. As my legs opened to their hands, my tight dress rode up my thighs.

Claire guided his hand right to where the borrowed thong covered my pussy. Or at least, I thought it had covered me until I felt their fingers against the edge of my pussy lips. I hadn't realized just how far the wet satin had pulled up into me. The feeling of strange fingers on my lips made me panic but it was too late to try to keep them out now.

"I thought this felt good when I was wearing it," Claire whispered around me, "but it is so much better on her. Can you feel how stretched the material is? How it's clinging to her? How it slid inside her?"

Fingers—I couldn't see whose—slid up the fabric, passing over my clit and causing me to shiver, which I did my best to hide.

"She liked that," Claire said. "Feel how wet she is."

As they leaned slightly in front of me, I could see they were alternating between looking down at my crotch and up at each other.

"Anal with no questions asked. That's what you said, right?" James whispered in his new voice. God, it made me tremble, and they had to have felt it.

"No questions at all. This big fat ass is yours to do with what you want." After a moment, she added, "There, right there," as she guided his fingers to my clit.

I trembled again. Claire's choice of words sounded incredible in my head.

"You'll be her first. Her husband totally rejected her when she begged him."

"Not here," I gasped, though I'm sure it came out as a moan.

"Feel how smooth her lips are," Claire said, her fingers sliding over the parts of my pussy that weren't covered. "I made her shave for her show."

"Hang on, I want to feel this first," he said and I felt two fingers slide down past my folds, heading deeper between my legs.

I surprised myself by tilting my hips to allow his fingers to reach where the tiny satin strip pressed against my asshole.

"Fuck," he said as he moved under the fabric and pushed a finger against it.

I jolted suddenly, and grabbed the table.

"What are you doing?" Claire said, confusion in her voice before her fingers found his. I thought she'd stop him. "Oh... oh good plan." Claire purred and pressed her own finger against his. I had to hook my leg over Claire's knee to make room for them, now both pressing against my asshole. The outer ring yielded to their touch, but the inner ring was still very, very tight. "Bet when you watched her up there you never thought you'd be fingering her ass in one of the booths."

"Fuck," James hissed. "We're not in yet."

"Oh, are we actually going in?" Claire said with excitement.

"This is soo not—mmmmm," I said, words dissolving into nonsense on my tongue

"Give it a moment," Claire said, "I know she's had her own fingers in here... it's only a matter of— woah! There we go!"

And for the first time, just like that, someone else's finger was in my asshole. I felt the other finger burrowing in alongside the first, and my jaw hit my collarbone. Two different people's fingers in my dirty little asshole. I had never dreamed anything this perverted could happen to me.

"You know," Claire whispered, "I've never heard you this quiet. Not once in five years. Cat got your tongue?"

I glared sideways at her, eyes wide, as the two of them probed the very edge of my asshole. My actual asshole, right there in the packed comedy club. It wasn't even as if I was a nobody! My name was on the billing and the management knew who I was! Low risk for Claire and James, maybe, but extreme risk and exposure for me. Little me, who'd always stuck to the tame side of life, who'd always behaved and followed the rules! Part of me was still in complete denial, that nothing of the sort could possibly be happening, and yet the other part, the part that I pretended didn't exist, fucking loved it. All of it.

"Apparently all I've gotta do to shut you up is stick a finger up your ass." Then she grinned devilishly and added, "I'll have to remember that."

I glared at her for a moment as my overloaded mind fought for a comeback. Claire raised an eyebrow. I got one ready. It wasn't good, but it would work, and just as I opened my mouth to speak, Claire pushed her finger in much deeper, burying her knuckles well beyond my inner muscles and deep into my rectum. The words died, and my face must have registered my shock. A moment of adjustment, slight pain, and then a wave of pleasure. Oh God, it bathed me in warmth. I looked at Claire, hoping my eyes were pleading for mercy, hoping that they showed my desire not to do this here. Not like this.

Claire smiled at me in triumph. She knew she owned me in that moment, and I was hers. All it had taken was one finger to make me her puppet.

She reached up, laid a fingertip against my chin, and pushed me back against the cushion. They then leaned in front of me and kissed each other. The sound of it was everywhere, and I felt James' finger slide deeper to join Claire's inside me. Their fingers seemed to dance together inside my asshole, and I imagined their tongues doing the same. That was the moment all my sense and propriety vanished.

I closed my eyes, wishing I was anywhere else, though when I did all I could focus on were those fingers in my ass. It felt so much better than my own fingers. I rotated my hips slightly to push the fingers deeper, and hoped they wouldn't notice. They were already deeper than anything else had ever been. The pads of their fingers curled and pushed, and I squirmed magnificently. I opened my eyes to watch them and it was, all at once, the most amazing thing to see. They were kissing as if I didn't exist.

My eyes popped open again when I heard glasses clinking on the table in front of us. A waitress in a plain black shirt had just started to walk past us, having collected our empty shot glasses, but she paused when she met my eyes. I don't think she'd realized I was behind the other two, and didn't know what to do upon finding me. She was pretty, and... embarrassed. I tried my best to look like I didn't have two fingers worming away deep inside my asshole, and hoped she couldn't see what they were doing under the table.

"Ignore these two," I said to the waitress, hoping my voice sounded normal.

She looked back at them and flashed me an apologetic look that said something between get a room and friends can be a nightmare, huh?

"Tell me about it," I said with a grin.

One of their fingers, I assume it was Claire, slid out of my asshole and found my clit through the thong. It might not have been meant as a punishment, but either way it was pure torture.

"Fuck," I hissed. The pure pleasure pushed the words out before my brain could stop them. My cheeks ignited.

"You okay?" the waitress mouthed silently. Claire's finger moved unrelentingly.

I couldn't do anything. Any attempt to move was surely going to cause me to groan unceasingly. It took all my willpower to avoid cumming, right there under the waitresses gaze. I tried to keep my mind blank, clear of the thoughts that would push me over the edge, and I did a pretty good job too. I held off until the waitress shot me a parting look as if to say you guys are weird, and then as she turned her back I felt Claire press her finger back into my ass at the same time as she pressed her thumb into my clit.

I came, right there in the middle of the comedy club. I closed my eyes, and my head fell back onto the cushion. My chest tightened, my back arched, and my tits squeezed out against the dress. The threading around the zipper threatened to pop, but held. I remained still as a statue for a long moment, utterly overwhelmed, and gulped a huge intake of air. Claire moved her finger again and I repeated the process. Chest tightening, breasts straining, and another barely stifled moan.

This time when I opened my eyes, James and Claire were both looking at me in awe. My cheeks were so flush with color that I couldn't have been any redder, though not for lack of trying. I quickly scanned the room in a desperate check that no one else had noticed. Part of me imagined the whole room staring at me, and that made my stomach do an ass-over-tits tumble, but everyone's eyes were on the stage.

"You just came from that?" Claire gasped as both fingers slid from my asshole and left me feeling empty.

I nodded.

"We need to get you somewhere private," Claire whispered. "This is gonna be epic."

"Please," in a weak voice, was all I could manage.

"Where is your room?" Claire asked James.

James smiled and nodded, saying, "Not far."

Just like that, my fate was sealed.

X

I felt like a prisoner being led to a cell, like Lee Harvey Oswald with two sheriffs just behind him. All it needed was Jack Ruby to come out of the bushes, fire off a quick shot and I'd be done.

There was no one coming for me, of course, and I had no one to blame but myself. The whole way I kept hoping there would be someone, something... some distraction. A bus full of nuns to strike me dead, or, God, even a mugger. Then I could have peeled off in pursuit, a perfectly legitimate excuse.

I was on my own.

The earlier drizzle had stopped and the sky had cleared, but for some reason that just seemed to make the sound of my heels absolutely deafening. The staccato clip-clop echoed off the surrounding buildings like gunshots. It was like my heels were screaming out, Hey, whore here, in slut heels, walking to a stranger's hotel room to have a sordid liaison with my best friend and the aforementioned stranger! Come look at the whore! I couldn't work out why Claire's heels weren't doing the same kind of advertising. How was it fair that her much-higher heels would be so silent compared to mine. Why was I the one being singled out?

The reception counter was as empty as the Bates Motel Counter at shower time. I looked around, listening for any sounds coming from a bar. I tried to veer in that direction, to give me some sort of excuse to slip away from my captors and avoid my fate, but Claire corralled me with a devilish smirk.

"Maggie, did you bring your handcuffs with you?" Claire asked.

I glared at Claire so hard. So, so, so hard.

"Why would she have handcuffs for a comedy show?" James asked, clearly a little worried.

"Don't worry soldier," Claire replied. "I'm not thinking of using them on you. They'll be for Maggie, and it's just one of her delightful little Trooper quirks. She takes them everywhere."

My glare intensified. "First of—" I began.

"Shhhhhssssst," Claire said with a smile.

I blinked at her, mouth open.

"Shhhhhsssst," Claire repeated, her eyes even more emphatic.

"Bu—" I stammered, stupidly. "You... you can't—"

"I can shhhhhhhsssssst you," she said, with a delirious grin, "and I just did. Also, I gotta be honest, I'm surprised it worked. Clearly having a couple fingers in your ass has tamed you a little bit."

My face burned and I quickly glanced around the room to check that no one else had heard. The lobby was still empty; no witnesses, but also no rescue.

The elevator opened with a ping. I stepped in, keen to be out of the lobby even though it took me closer to whatever was waiting upstairs. Which, apparently, included handcuffs now.

Claire added, "And I had to shhhhsssst you, because no doubt you were about to give some long spiel about not wanting to be handcuffed because it would be against some code, or rule, or some other nonsense."

"Maybe I was just going to explain why I had them in my bag?" I countered.

"Were you?"

"No," I admitted and the elevator doors closed.

X

James' room was really nice. Far more so than any hotel room I'd been in before. You know those hotel rooms you see in films with multiple bedrooms and sofas, and you think, that could never be real. Turns out they are real, and James had one.

"Did you get this just to see my show?" I asked. "I mean, I'm really flattered."

James smiled at us both, slipped Claire's coat off her, and then moved to take mine. I paused for a moment, for some reason worried about being exposed, then remembered I'd worn that dress on stage in front of a packed comedy club.

"This is a great room," Claire said. "What is it that you do?" Claire made good money, but even she wouldn't have been able to afford a place like that. Then her eyes widened, and she said, "There's a fucking piano in here!"

"And? Since when can you play the piano?" I fired back.

"Maybe James can," she said grinning to herself as she quickly ran to the grand piano and climbed on it, lay flat on her back with her head dangling over the edge, and in her best sultry voice sang, "Happy birthday, Mr. Pressssss-ident!"

James smiled at us both, though I couldn't help noticing his eyes lingered on Claire, as she collapsed into a fit of giggles, for a lot longer than on me. Then again, she was lying on the piano showing off how good her denim-clad legs looked.

"I can play a little," he said with a grin, "and I have an IT start-up. So far, it's going okay."

Claire rolled onto her front and brought up both hands to support her chin. "I've never met an IT guy that wasn't glued to his phone screen," she said, eyes narrowed playfully, "and I haven't seen your phone even once."