by Candy Sloane
“Maybe we’re playing pin the dick on the dick,” Tongue said, slapping Kappa’s back.
“Or pin the twat on the twat,” he quipped back.
I removed my glasses and slipped my blindfold on. I was immediately disoriented, the sounds of the restaurant a cacophony. Maybe there was something to all this.
“People used blindfolds during sex long before that book,” Allie said. “God knows I did.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, mostly because, even with my eyes shielded, I could totally picture Cowboy’s shocked face.
We were arranged into a line and directed by the maître d' to put one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us. He led us into a pitch-black room at the back of the restaurant. Well, we were told it was pitch-black, not like I could tell with my blindfold still on. I was helped into a chair. I could feel a cold plate and silverware in front of me.
“Welcome,” boomed a guy with an English accent from the front of the room. “You may now remove your blindfolds.”
I assumed it was one of the waiters. I wondered what the point of the blindfolds had been, because, even without it, I still saw black. I guess it was all part of the experience, some kinky foreplay before our meal.
I could make out muted shapes around the enormous table. We were placed very far apart so we wouldn’t stumble all over each other.
“I hate the dark,” Wheels said.
“Just embrace it,” MD said, “with your sense of sight hindered you might just have one of the most sensual experiences of your life.”
I could feel Scott behind me pushing in my chair. I could tell it was him, had been near him enough to know his touch—confident but delicate. His scent musk and mint. I wished he and I were alone for a true sensual experience, instead of this food one.
The first course was announced—a velvety corn consommé. We were handed a cup and instructed to drink.
It was warm and sweet and perfectly seasoned. I drank it down in one long gulp.
“Yum, salty,” Kappa said.
“Remind you of something you couldn’t wait to suck down during pledge week, Kappa?” Tongue asked.
“Isn’t your mouth too busy to talk for once?” he replied.
“Actually, if we’re sharing memories, this does remind me of Fallujah,” Private said. “The food seems a hell of a lot better so far, and I’m not afraid some Iraqi is going to jack me, but we ate without being able to see all the time.”
“Thanks for your take on things, Platoon,” Tongue said, “as usual, it’s like an overdose of Prozac.”
“This tastes like the cornbread my grandma used to make,” Cowboy said.
“These guys are way less interesting when you can’t see them,” Allie whispered.
I guess she was sitting next to me. Good to know.
The next course was chicken kabobs seasoned with curry. They were delicious but, honestly, I think they would have been just as good with the lights on.
“Being in the dark reminds me of ghost stories,” Kappa said, “so how about finally telling us about that girlfriend, Wheels.”
Tongue laughed.
“No one has to talk about their exes if they don’t want to,” Cowboy replied in the least country-western way he could.
“She doesn’t have to talk about her,” Kappa pressed, “she just has to tell us if she killed her.”
I should have known. You can take the Gasms out of the house, but you can’t take the douchebag out of the Gasms, or at least out of Kappa.
“I’d like to know,” Allie said. “I mean, if we’re voting, wouldn’t you, Chris?”
“We could just try and have a nice meal,” I sighed. I didn’t think it was too much to ask, but I also hadn’t been doing shots on the way over.
“I’ve killed someone,” Private said.
“No one asked you,” Kappa said.
We couldn’t see each other, but I knew all The Gasms were staring through the dark toward where Wheels was sitting, waiting for her to respond.
Wheels sighed. “She died of cancer, jerks. I just never corrected you because what do I care why you think she died? She’s gone, that’s all that matters.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“It’s fine,” Wheels replied, “you weren’t one of the assholes pushing me to answer.”
All of a sudden I felt a hand sliding up my leg from under the table. My body tensed and I screamed.
“Try to stay quiet,” Scott whispered into the receiver in my ear. “It’s me. I thought we could have a little alone time, V. Tell them you spilled water on yourself.”
Scott was under the table? Who was manning the camera? What if someone noticed?
“Chris, you okay?” Allie asked.
“Answer her, V,” he whispered against my knee.
“Yeah, just spilled my water,” I replied, spilling it for proof. Unfortunately I couldn’t see and it went all over me. It was fine, at least now every part of me was wet.
“Garrett is watching the feed, but I have the shot set from the tablecloth up. If we get caught, I’m screwed, but I couldn’t help myself, V. You make me wild and reckless,” he whispered.
A waiter came up behind me and handed me a napkin and a new glass.
“Your dress was so tight I was pretty sure you couldn’t be wearing any panties,” Scott said into my ear.
Damn, in addition to Scott’s many other talents, I guess he was also a panty psychic.
“The thought of you without panties made me so crazy I had to know.” He slipped his head under my dress and between my legs, laying small kisses along my upper thighs. “Glad to see I was right,” he crooned, starting to go at me with his tongue.
Well, who needs an appetizer?
“It wasn’t fair that you were the only one tasting something amazing tonight,” he whispered into my receiver “Stay quiet, stay hot.”
I sipped at my replaced water, or attempted to.
I listened as the waiter described the next course: grilled endive and calamari, but, with Scott’s tongue working me over, all I could taste was metal. My heart felt like it was going to fly out of my chest—it was impossible to keep still. I wanted to rock against him, to moan, to tell him I liked it, hell, I fucking loved it, but I knew I had to stay totally motionless, totally silent. It was like his mouth was a heat source, and I was trying to keep from boiling over, when the whole point was boiling over.
“Calamari, that’s octopus, right?” Cowboy asked.
“It’s squid,” MD said, “same genus, different species.”
“Whatever, it tastes like a condom,” Tongue said.
“What do you think, Chris?” Allie asked.
“I think…” My words were labored. Scott didn’t even stop, if anything, he went faster like he wanted me to respond with my opinion of what he was doing to me. I could feel him sucking on my clit, kneading it in his lips, stroking me with his thick, wet tongue.
“It’s amazing, ahhh…”
Scott stopped.
“Stay quiet if you want me to be able to finish you off,” he whispered into my ear piece.
“Amazing, ah-mazing. Sorry,” I said, trying to recover, “I’ve just never tasted anything so good.”
I definitely wanted Scott to be able to finish me off. I wanted it more than anything. I saw the release his tongue offered like a light at the end of all this darkness, a blinding, stupefying light.
“It’s okay,” Allie said. “I wouldn’t scream out its name in bed or anything.”
Scott, I screamed in my head, because I would scream out his name in bed. I wanted to scream it out now, to beg him to continue. Scott, make me come the way only you can.
“I don’t eat anything that had more arms than I do,” Private said.
“Good girl,” Scott whispered, going right back to licking me like mad. A heat bloomed up from my core. I steadied myself against the table with both hands.
“What about things that have no arms?” Tongue asked.
“Ev
erything has arms,” Private said.
“Fish don’t,” Wheels replied.
“Fins are arms,” Private said.
“I think the doc would disagree with you,” Tongue replied.
“What do I have to do to get another drink around here?” Kappa asked.
“Make that two,” Allie said.
“You taste so good,” Scott hummed. “Come for me.”
I bit the inside of my lip and the tang of blood hit my tongue, the pain matched only by the pleasure I couldn’t show.
He went at me harder. My orgasm started to escalate, a deluge of burns being doused, Scott’s tongue igniting a flame that my willing body flooded out. My insides convulsed like they were clapping for him. All I could do was hold on tight and enjoy the ride, and I did again and again.
“Who’s ready for dessert?” the waiter asked.
“I just had mine,” Scott whispered into my receiver. I felt him slink out from under the table, taking his place back behind the camera while the Gasms and Allie continued to demand more drinks.
I reminded myself to breathe—my lungs, my heart, my head a puddle. The Orgasm Virgin was far beyond a virgin now.
Episode Seven: Very Dirty Dancing
I woke up and found a small pink box tied with a white satin ribbon outside my door. I hoped it wasn’t a parting gift from Wheels. After finding out she hadn’t really killed her girlfriend, I’d felt safe enough to send her home at last night’s elimination.
Besides, she’d always seemed like she wanted to be here even less than I did.
I stared at the box. Maybe she had really killed her girlfriend and she actually wanted to be here. Not only be here, but be with me. Maybe this was a lock of her hair, or a bag of her toenails, or her ear.
I brought the box into my room and sat on the bed. I cautiously opened the white ribbon like it could have been any of the things that had gone through my mind, or it could have been a bomb.
But when I lifted off the top I found a pair of red vinyl underwear and a note from Scott: Wear these today and think of me on your date with Private.
I held them up and examined them. I guess he wanted to know I’d have panties on this time. They were the kind of thing you might wear if you were a stripper, a dominatrix, or even a superhero, but definitely not a librarian. But maybe he saw me as having the potential to be any and all of those things—at least when I was with him.
That day’s episode was dance lessons, and I’d picked Private to join me, mostly because I knew he would be a gentleman, and I had nothing close to sexual feelings for him. Easier to hang out alone with the Gasms I was not attracted to at all, like him and Kappa, than to be with the ones I could actually consider being with, like MD or Tongue.
After my shower I slipped the panties on, well, really, wrenched them on. The crotch was thicker and less malleable than I would have liked, and they were as shiny as a candy apple, but Scott wanted me to wear them so I was wearing them.
I was doing whatever Scott wanted me to do, clearly.
If he was risking everything for me, the least I could do was wear some seriously awkward vinyl underwear that reminded me of a bowling bag.
The way he took me last night at the restaurant was the hottest thing I had ever experienced. Ravaging me in front of everyone and not being able to make a peep was beyond anything I’d ever fantasized. I was starting to realize that orgasms with another person had different levels and even with the same person had different intensities. I couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for me next.
Private and I headed to the dance studio in the network limo, the crew behind us in the bus. I was sitting a little weirdly from the vinyl underwear and I could swear they were squeaking like a new pair of shoes whenever I moved, but no one mentioned it. Not when I entered the limo, or even when we arrived and I struggled out of the car and headed into the dance studio.
Of course, what would they say—I think you have a mouse in your pants?
For once I was thankful for wardrobe’s choice of a black tank top and matching long black A-line skirt. It camouflaged the vinyl underwear so it didn’t look like I was wearing a big red diaper. I might have sounded like I had a rodent down there, but at least no one could see it.
The dance studio smelled like baby powder and wood and the instructor was a small, crisply dressed Spanish man named Eduardo. Before we started shooting, the makeup crew came around to freshen us up.
Garrett hadn’t come that day. He sent Scott and the crew alone. I wondered if he stayed back to spend time with Allie, or if he was just so bored with my progress that he couldn’t even stand being with me for what was his job.
After makeup was done, Scott came over to mic me. He moved his lips to my ear and whispered, “I hope you’re wearing the panties I gave you.”
“I am or, really, they are wearing me,” I said, pulling out a not-so-sly wedgie.
“I know they are a little extreme, but they are connected to this.” He flashed a remote control. “Private might have his hands all over your body during your lesson, but I have a direct line to your clit.”
He pressed the button.
I felt a vibration—short, jolting, sensually intense. If he kept it going for much longer I might have broken in half.
“Is it your aim to give me orgasm after orgasm on-camera that only you know about?” I asked, trying to smile. I was a little nervous, my stomach fluttering. He was taking me to places I never thought I would venture. I mean, I’d used a vibrator before, but not one I wore all day long. Not one that worked via wifi.
“It wasn’t, but it is now,” he said with a determined grin. “We’re going to play this like a drinking game. Any time someone says the word “one” you get the buzzer.”
“We’re taking dance lessons. Counting is, like, fundamental.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I could change it to anytime someone says any number at all, but you’re going to need to be able to talk for the cameras.”
“This is crazy.” I laughed uneasily, adrenaline pumping through my body like an alarm clock with no snooze button.
“I know,” he said, his eyes immersing me in an intense but secret expression. “It is. I have never been like this before. I can’t help it. You do things to me, V.”
“Clearly,” I said, snapping the waistband of the panties, “you do things to me, too.”
“If any of this gets to be too much, just tell me.”
I tilted my head in thought. Yes, this was new and a little intimidating but, as long as he was leading the way, I would go anywhere. “Do I get a remote for you?”
He shook his head, and his lips sparked into a smile. “Just think of everything you’ll get to do once the show is over to pay me back.”
I swear my vagina ached as I thought about it.
“This goes at your pace; if you want me to stop, just say….” his face glowed mischievously, “…Gag-ett.”
“What if I want you to keep going?”
He smirked and opened his mouth to respond when Eduardo clapped his hands and announced in a heavy Spanish accent that we were about to begin. I wondered if Scott would consider “uno” as “one.”
I hoped so.
Private and I stood in the center of the dance floor, mirrors all around us. Not only would what Scott was doing to me be recorded by cameras, it would be reflected—tens of me being manipulated into ecstasy.
I wished Allie were here to make a multiple orgasm joke.
Allie.
What would she think of this?
What would she think of last night?
If the stories she’d been telling me for years were Cosmo magazine level sex, what I was experiencing with Scott was Penthouse level sex, or at least everything you did before you actually had sex.
I couldn’t believe I still had that to look forward to.
“Action,” Scott announced to the camera crew beside him. I guessed that word was probably meant for me as well.
�
��Have you done much dancing?” Eduardo asked.
“At the USO, but never one…” Private started.
I felt a buzz, my whole body tensed, ignited.
“On one,” he continued.
And, another, deep and warm, sending shockwaves of a need as base as hunger through me. Scott was staying true to his word. I would never see the number one the same way again.
“You?” Eduardo watched me. I wondered if he could sense the dance party in my pants.
“A little,” I replied, my voice raspy.
“Okay, first thing,” Eduardo said, transferring his attention to Private, “one…”
Holy shit, another vibration; my whole body melted. Scott might have been worried about me being able to speak in front of the cameras, but I was more worried about staying upright. At least I had Private’s strong arms to hold me up.
“Arm around her waist, one…”
Another buzz, longer, allowing my desire to build enough that I longed for it to continue once it had stopped.
“Holding her hand pushed out like an arrow.”
Private pulled my limp-as-spaghetti-arms into position.
“You seem nice and loose,” he said.
He had no idea.
“Very good,” Eduardo praised, “let’s start easily. Just walk together across the room, one…”
Another jolt, more sustained this time, powerful enough that I felt it in my throat. My mouth watered. My teeth chattered. I longed to do something with my lips. I directed my gaze toward Scott. His eyebrows flickered, a look that said You can tell me to stop but you never will.
“Two three four,” Eduardo continued. “One…”
A low roar purred from the underwear. Scott kept it running. I felt it roll up to the base of my neck, flood all the way down to my toes. I was afraid my hair might stand on end, it felt so good.
“Two, three, four.”
I’d forgotten that Private was taking me across the dance floor with a hand at my back. All I could feel was where Scott was taking me, the vibrator still running against my swollen clit. My feet weren’t moving so much as Private was sliding me along.
“Very good, Chris, back straight,” Eduardo said.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible when my knees were jelly. Scott had stopped waiting for his next signal and was just running the vibrator. It was hard to breathe. It was impossible to keep my back straight. My skin was so hot my glasses were fogging up.