The Daring Dance Dilemma

The Daring dance dilemma is a sequel to "A surprising Sunday service"

***

Mike was fucked. He knew it.

He kept telling himself it had been too good to be true. It was pure fantasy. It had to have been a dream, and he needed to let it go before it ruined his life.

But it had happened, hadn't it? The memories he had of her supple, complaint young body sweating under his were too vivid to have been just imagination.

The week following the incident had been the longest and most tortuous of his life. He had been hardly able to eat or drink in with the skin-prickling anticipation of her promise. The next Sunday he had almost physically dragged his family back to church. His wife, Carol had been overjoyed by his supposed newfound love of religion. He could not tell her that the plane of higher existence he had found was not in any sermon, but buried deep in the eighteen year old Rebecca Williams' ass.

He had snatched the first chance he had had to ditch his family after they had arrived, and fled up to the balcony where he and Becca had first initiated their tryst. But she was painfully absent. He waited up there for the entire service, retracing the steps of last week alone. He felt like there should been more evidence of what had been, for him at least, an Earth shattering event. The best he could find was a faded stain on the wooden floor behind the organ, where his seed had spilled out from inside her.

Now, from his vantage, he could see her sitting the choir stalls, eyes ahead, never looking up at where he hid, appearing every bit as angelic as her reputation. The memories he had of her ass squirming up and down his rigid cock hardly seemed real. Only he knew her hidden, wicked side.

Or did he?

Did she regret what they had done? Had she told someone?

There was an actual, physical pain in his chest. Was it from sheer desire or utter terror?

He had actually looked around nervously at that point, half expecting the police to come storming up the steps to the church balcony and arrest him.

A month had passed since then and his agonising had only grown worse. He was angry and confused. Every Sunday he returned to the place they had met, as he had promised her, and every Sunday he was bitterly disappointed.

He began to see her everywhere he looked. When he picked his daughter up from school, out in the street and at the store. She was in every flick of hair or perky bounce in every teenage girl he saw. Worst of all, she plagued his dreams, causing him to wake up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets with a hard-on he could have used to split wood.

He was growing concerned that Carol would figure out something was up. He somehow passed the turbulent nights off as stress-related nightmares, but he was unable to hide the changes that had come over their marital love-making. If anything, she seemed to appreciate the new-found vigour after nearly twenty years of married, vanilla sex. But how much longer would he hide that it was Becca's teenage body he squeezed tight against himself, Becca's tight anal passage he felt when he pumped his cock in and out, and Becca's beautiful young face he imagined as he emptied himself into his wife.

During the day he fantasized about her constantly. Was it her coltish figure he saw jogging past his house on Saturday mornings? His imaginings grew so vivid he half expected her to be there, waiting under his desk in the mornings when he got to work. Kneeling, and ready to slide down his fly and devour his aching cock.

Jesus! He needed help.

He had more or less resigned himself to this new life of constant mental torture, hoping that it would dissipate with time, when he met her again.

As with the last time, he was utterly unprepared for her.

He had actually fought with Carol about it. She had volunteered him to be a chaperone at Sara's high school dance. He had been a lot sterner with Sara since he had become more aware of the depraved sort of men that were out there, waiting to take advantage of young women. Men like him.

Carol had thought it would be a good way for the two of them to bond. Mike had known it would be a good way for him to stand around in a dark corner and watch horny little teenage creeps come up and try to get their grubby hands on his unsullied young daughter. The irony of this concern, in relation to his encounter with Becca the month previous, was not lost on him. Yet he knew that if any man did to Sara what he had done to Becca, he would chop the guy's dick off and choke him with it.

Carol had dressed Mike up in his one and only, rumpled suit and he had driven Sara and her date, a chump with the worst haircut Mike had ever seen, to their dance.

Sara ran off as soon as she saw her friend Taylor. With their dates in tow, the four of them had disappeared before he was even out the car. It suited him fine.

He snatched a nametag one of the seniors, seated behind a table set up outside the gym entrance, proffered him. Then, pausing only to offer a few cursory greetings to the other parents on duty, he slipped inside the gym.

A wall of bass hit him like he was stepping outside into a hurricane, and he took a moment to adjust, using the time to scope out all the possible dark corners of the school hall that he could lurk in.

Once he found one that suited, he resigned himself to staying there the whole night, doing his best to ignore the kids sipping from stolen hip flasks or returning from the bathrooms reeking of smoke.

The dance was, for the most part, organised and run by the seniors. They had handed out the name tags, and they were also dotted around the hall, helping to keep the horny teenagers from dry humping each other to death. They were easy to spot because, unlike the kids in Sara's year, dressed in overly flamboyant gowns and ill-fitting tuxedos, the seniors were attired in the school uniform, even down to the blazers and ties.

Mike leaned against a wall and allowed his unfocused eyes to pass over the gym. It was dimly lit, but near the dance floor, colored lights pulsed from some point high above the stage, casting the dancers into ever shifting spectrum of hues.

Time passed slowly.

Mike could not have said how much had actually gone by when his ears suddenly pricked up. Had he just heard someone say Becca's name nearby?

Curious, he casually slid along the wall he was leaning on, closer to where two boys were half shouting at each other over the music, not far from his reclusive corner. He recognised the two of them slightly. The gangly one with the pimples was Marcus, or Malcom? That was it, Malcolm.

Mike knew him because he had once been called into the school to meet with Sara's fourth grade teacher, as well as Malcolm's parents. It turned out that Malcolm had had a little crush on Sara and he had chosen to show his affection by pulling her hair, shoving her in the playground and calling her names. Mike did not like the kid, but he thought of him as fairly innocuous.

The other kid, Tyson Hess everyone knew. He was in Sara's year too, and, from what she told Mike, Tyson was a proper little asshole. If the parents of the other students could have taken a vote to kick one kid out of the school it would have been Tyson. But his parents were even bigger assholes, so everyone felt too bad for him to really fight to have him kicked out, even though he had been caught doing some pretty bad things.

"Bro, have you seen her tonight? I would hit that shit. Even in that prissy uniform. She is tight." Mike tuned into what Tyson was saying and immediately regretted it.

Had he heard right the first time? Was the "she" in this poetic tale 'his' Becca? Mike whipped his head around the room almost as a reflex, desperately seeking out her sweet face. Sour disappointment boiled inside him when he failed to spot her.

The long-necked, spotty Malcolm replied, "Like you have a chance, bro. She's the fucking ice queen."

"I don't know. I have heard some shit." Mike felt jealous heat creep up his neck. He knew Tyson was a proven liar and thief, but was there a chance Becca had been lying when she said he was her first? Why did it bother him so much?

"Come on," he had to tell himself, "She is not my girlfriend. She is practically a kid. I should not care this much about who she does or does not date. I am a happily married man." He was, anyway, before he had met Becca.

"Oh yeah, what have you heard, Tye?" Malcolm asked.

"My cousin reckons he has seen her with some college guys. Apparently she puts out if you know what to do. Say what you like, man, but I bet you I can get a piece of that, if I play things right."

Malcolm gave a slightly effeminate laugh, "Bullshit, man. Nobody in here has a chance. Fuck, if someone did they would award him a fucking presidential medal or some shit."

Mike nearly coughed when he heard this.

"Check it out."

Mike could not see what the kid named Tye had inside his jacket, but his friend seemed impressed.

"Woah!"

"It's the good french shit. A client of my dad's gave it to him, but he's on the wagon right now, so he won't miss it for a while. I'm telling you, she is going to practically fall on my dick when I offer her some."

The pimply kid laughed, but looked nervous. With an even bigger, and more awkward laugh, Tye threw an arm around Malcolm's shoulders and pulled him towards a vacant table, cutting Mike off from the rest of the conversation.

Had it been Becca they were talking about? Either way, Mike made a mental note to bust their balls sometime if he ever got the opportunity.

"Jesus, Becca." He moaned softly into the dark, "What are you doing to me? "

He nearly leaped a foot on the air when a voice, her voice, spoke in his ear, "Hi, Mike."

He snapped around to look at her, suddenly right by his side. Where had she come from? Had she heard what he had said?

Her grin was wide and her eyes sparkled with amusement. He felt like she had gut punched him, her beauty struck him so hard. She, like the other seniors, was dressed in uniform. But she somehow made it look both innocent and incredibly sexy at the same time. He wanted to rip it off her. She was in black leather shoes, black stockings and a grey skirt that ended above her knees. Her navy blazer covered a white shirt and tie, but could not hide his memory of her tumbler sized, up-tilted breasts.

"Becca?, he managed to croak out hoarsely. It was as if he was questioning her existence. He had half a mind to reach out and touch her to see if his hand would pass through her.

"Christ, Mike." She laughed, "Are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost."

"No, I..." He stumbled over his words, she seemed to have that effect on him, "I just wasn't expecting to see you again. Not after, you know..."

"Oh my God, Mike. I am so sorry." She hid her embarrassed smile behind her hands, "You probably waited for me on Sunday."

"No, I..." But he couldn't lie. He just shook his head, an rueful smile creeping onto his lips.

"I am so sorry, Mike." He thrilled at the soft touch she placed soothingly on his elbow, "I tried to get away. I really did, but that bitch Desiree suspected I was bunking my Sunday duties. I had to go back and pretend to be with the choir. Jesus. I have thought about you, like, everyday since then."

"You did?" The boyish glee in his voice was positively cringe-worthy.

"You rocked my world, Mike," She said as she playfully elbowed his side. He looked around to see if anyone was watching them, but everyone seemed to be focused on their own conversations.

"God, Becca. I can't stop thinking about you. You're killing me." He nearly seized her by the arms in his confession, but stopped himself just short, all too aware of where they were.

"Aw, poor Mike," she made a playful sympathetic face, pushing out her swollen lips, "Maybe I can help?" He felt something brush against his crotch. He looked down and when he saw her hand cupping his already semi-hard bulge he jumped back, his head snapping around again to see if anyone had noticed. The hall was filled with milling students, teachers and parents. Practically everyone here knew him and if he were caught with Becca...

He did not even what to contemplate it.

"Relax, Mike. No one is watching," She stood on her toes to say into his ear in a throaty stage whisper. He felt the surge in his trousers when he felt her warm breath tickling the hair on his neck. She smelled of the fruit flavored gum she was chewing. He felt his self-control melting like an ice cube in a blast furnace.

For a moment her eyes narrowed then, after a quick scan of the room, her expression turned into a parody of a scheming cartoon villain. Mike suddenly had a sense for what all prey animals must feel moments before the jaws of a predator close around their throats.

She slipped a cool hand into his, saying only, "Follow me."

Meekly, he did just that.

Mike looked around as he was dragged forward, his eyes landing on where Sara was talking to a group of girlfriends.

She did not see him, but she was laughing, so she was clearly having a good time. She had also instructed him earlier in the evening that she would, "like, literally die if you come anywhere near me," at any point during the entirety of the dance. For once, he was inclined to obey the wishes of his daughter. Besides that, at this point, if Becca had asked him to follow her into a cage filled with hungry lions he probably would have done so.

As they stepped out of the deep shadows Mike had been hiding in they both automatically released their hold on each other. There were plenty of other parent chaperones standing around or near to student chaperones, so it looked fairly natural that he and Becca should be walking off together in the direction of the stage. Perhaps it was coincidental, or perhaps they had both seen something notable and were moving to deal with it. Who could say?

The school gym have been turned into a Greek themed banquet hall for the occasion. Styrofoam pillars in the doric style had been carefully placed, and the brick walls had been covered up by by huge swathes of white fabric. Mike had no doubt that Becca had probably, in some large capacity, been responsible for organizing all of this.

Becca led him to the front of the hall. There it ended in a raised stage, on which some low cost DJ was getting paid to do a job the shuffle setting in Mike's iPod could have done better. Seriously, even Mike thought the music was old and cheesy and that, as his family seemed all too eager to remind him, was his favourite genre of music.

They had just gotten to the front of the stage, when they were confronted by an enormous pair of speakers, one stacked upon the other. Mike could feel the beat of the terrible music in his chest. He could practically sense it seeping into his suit, devaluing it with each moment he stood there.

Uncertain of what to do next he stopped. Becca give him another reassuring smile and took his hand in hers once more, giving it a little squeeze. His head automatically snapped around yet again to see if anyone had noticed them, but the kids were all too wrapped up in each other and themselves, apparently, to see him and Becca.

Quickly, she stepped into the narrow gap between the speaker and the wall. It was small enough that both of them had to turn sideways to get into it. When she reached the white, curtain clad wall she turned back long enough to give Mike a wink, before yanking it aside and revealing a door. She pulled a small set of keys from an inside blazer pocket, rapidly flicked through them and then fitted one into the door to unlock it. She grinned when she saw his impressed expression.

"There some benefits to being on practically every organising committee. Free rein of virtually the entire school," She said before she spun the keys with an unnecessary flourish and slipped them back into her side pocket. Then she was gone through the door, leaving him on his own.

He paused a beat, taking one last look around. There seemed to be no one watching. He did not have time for a final confirmation, however, because Becca's hand shot out and grabbed his tie, hauling him in after her.

Off balance, he tripped into the room, accidentally shoving her back until she was pressed into a chain link fence. Worried he might crush her, he tried to push back off the fence, but Becca sank her hands into the hair at the back of his head and pulled him in roughly for a kiss. He resisted only at first, worried he was leaning on her too hard, but then melted into her sweet, fruit gum flavoured mouth. Somewhere, during the brief time she had been alone in the room, she had managed to ditch the gum, his tongue only finding hers, and nothing else.

She was too short, or he was too tall, and they had to tilt their heads awkwardly to maintain the fierce kiss. But his beast was awakened now, and he gripped her tiny waist and lifted her bodily off the ground, pinning her to the fence with his out-thrust crotch. She, in turn, raised her hands up and hooked her fingers into the wire links of the fence. Though he strained a little to keep her there, he found he could now kiss her with ravenous ease. Her hot, wet tongue swam in his mouth, her teeth and lips nipping playfully at his.

"God, she drives me wild," he thought, feeling his breaths coming deeper and heavier now. He could feel her heat through her panties, where his rigid cock was now pressing up against her unclaimed sex. He was unable to stop himself making short little thrusts against her. She responded by wrapping her legs around him. He could feel the heels of her school girl shoes digging into his ass as she pulled herself into him with matching eagerness.

It was all too much, too fast. "I am going to come in my pants like one of these fucking schoolboys she has such disdain for," he realised. The feeling of growing dampness between them, as much from her as from him it seemed, was pushing him over the edge. With one huge effort he brought himself back from where he teetered, pushing them away from the fence. She remained wrapped around him, still furious in her lust, until he, fumbling blindly, found a box and dropped her, with a little bounce, on her backside, and managed, as best he could, to break the kiss.

She still had his bottom lip in her teeth when she growled out, "What the fuck are you trying to do to me, Mike?"

After a hard glare she released his smarting lip. All he could do at that moment was shake his head.

"Stopping a girl just moments away from achieving her first decent climax in over a month is a very dangerous game to play. People have died for less." She tilted her head at a slight angle and said, with narrowed eyes, "Is this some power trip? Do you want me to beg for it, Mike? Because I will." Her face changed, eyes widening and bottom lip protruding in mock abjection, "Please Mike, please make my little pussy come like you did in church."

Her words and pathetic expression suddenly made him laugh. He could not help himself.

"What? Stop being a jerk, Mike," She flared.

He let out a deep breath, saying, "Sorry, Becca. It's just, this still feels, you know, wrong. As much as I love this, and I really do, you're practically a kid, and I am married."

She gave him a narrow-eyed stare, "Jesus, you really are about as dumb as the rest of them. We've been over this, Mike. You don't have to feel bad. This the perfect situation for me. I do not have time for a boyfriend. They get all needy and clingy. They require time and patience and, quite frankly, I have my life and future career to put first right now. What I do need, however, is for someone attractive, this is you Mike, in case you haven't guessed, to fuck me or make come in some depraved way that fulfills the dark fantasies in my mind. They build up in there like thunderstorms, and I don't want to know what I will do if I cannot let the thunder and lightning out every once in a while. As for you being too old, if I were to choose someone my own age, like one of those puff-chested virgins," she swung an arm out to encompass the entire male population of the school, "Firstly they probably wouldn't have a clue what they were doing, and secondly they would probably announce it in the school paper directly afterwards."