Chapter One

 

There was nothing Olivia loved so much as dancing. She could lose herself, forget all her problems and worries, and just send her body twisting and rolling to the music, preferably fast music. As she worked her body to the frenetic beat of the pounding drums she could let her mind drift and achieve a kind of zen she could never approach at any other time.

Other girls took bubble baths to relax. That wasn't Olivia. Give her time to think and her mind would immediately turn to all the anxieties and worries which regularly beset her. She was, after all, treading water in life, and very uneasily, too, as she waited for the next wave to wash over her.

Olivia had been doing that so long she could hardly remember anything else. Orphaned while young, she'd moved from one uneasy, uncertain foster home to another. Abandoned at sixteen by an overworked social welfare system, with no family connections and no real education, she'd scrambled from job to job, often holding multiple part-time jobs or gigs.

She had moved from room to room until actually achieving the height of her financial success - a job as a waitress, and renting an actual apartment. It wasn't much of an apartment. It was a bachelor's apartment, with one single room, if you didn't count the bathroom. But as someone who'd had to SHARE bathrooms, she definitely counted it!

The apartment also had no bugs and no peep holes from neighboring rooms from horny guys trying to see her undressed. It had a good, solid, secure door with a bolt on the inside to help make her feel safe. It wasn't the best of buildings, true, but there were no coke heads wandering the halls, nor the regularly heard yells of "Police! Open the door!"

It wasn't as if there weren't easier paths, or that she hadn't been offered lots of help from 'generous' men, who only wanted to trade that help for her body. She had, after all, been blessed with a very attractive body and face. But those had been more of a problem than a benefit. She'd been prey to a lot of lewd, perverted men she'd run into. They saw her as helpless and innocent and were eager to take advantage of her.

She'd lost more jobs than she could remember to lecherous managers who wanted her body. And once she turned eighteen she'd been given all kinds of 'advice' from men about how she could use her body to enrich herself.

"Every woman is sitting on her fortune," one of her managers had said while sliding his fingers through her long brown hair. "You ought to try stripping. I'd pay a fortune to see you on a stage."

She'd gone home and not returned.

Though it would be dishonest to say she hadn't considered it. To someone desperate for money the kind of cash she could get from swaying to the music for a few minutes on a stage was incredible. She could dance naked in front of her mirror and imagine herself on a stage with eager, panting men looking up at her and whistling and cheering for how sexy she was. And that was kind of hot.

But of course, that also came with the requirement to do lap dances for all those gross, lewd, fat, drunken men, and she just couldn't bear the thought.

Though that thought came up frequently. So did the idea of prostitution. Oh, not the street corner kind - did that even exist anymore - but the internet kind. She liked the idea of herself as a fancy escort visiting wealthy, sophisticated men who would pay her huge sums of money because that money was nothing to them.

But those were just fantasies. She was a well-read girl, even if self-educated, and she knew that for every woman who had a successful life at such jobs there were a hundred who lived miserably. The clubs were often controlled by organized crime, including biker gangs, and she wanted nothing to do with them. The escort services had their own predators.

And she'd been paranoid and wary about all the lechers and perverts for so long it was hard to imagine just presenting her naked body to all kinds of strangers. God knows what would happen to her.

In fact, she was a natural, fair-skinned blonde, but had dyed her hair brown in hopes of making herself just a little less of a target for horny men, especially those who might be managers or have some other power over her. She often pulled her hair back tight and wore phony glasses to job interviews and to work in hopes of discouraging that interest, and wore loose clothing to disguise her body.

But not here on the dance floor. Here she could be free. Oh, sure, she was still a target here, though mainly from guys closer to her own age. But she could handle it here, where she would be the one interviewing them, and the interview was always on the dance floor.

She didn't hang around the bar or find a table and wait for men to approach her. She simply went to the dance floor and began to move. She didn't need anyone to dance with. She was quite content dancing by herself. And she was confident that the men would notice, and eventually, the braver ones would show up and start dancing.

No words were really needed. Let them dance. If they impressed her, then she would talk to them. That didn't happen often.

It was a warm summer night at Night Beats when she found herself dancing to a wild rhythm of frantic guitars and thunderous drums. She was freeing herself from her latest worries - namely that she was newly unemployed, and that the rent was due soon.

That was when she found a large, well-built man dancing in front of her, facing her. He was bold, not shy, and not even pretending he was doing anything else. His presence didn't make her happy. He was an older man, easily well into his thirties, which meant he only wanted one thing - the same as they all wanted.

He was a good dancer, though, she grudgingly gave him that much. He was handsome, in his way, and his confidence was impressive. Though she didn't let that impress her. Lots of arrogant men couldn't imagine a girl turning them down.

What did surprise her was that she quickly noticed he was dancing alongside a woman. She was, like him, tall, well-built, and black. And she gave Olivia just as bold a look as he did. Neither looked poor, either, given their haircuts, their jewelry, and their clothes.

He wore black pants and a light purple shirt which went well against his black skin. She wore a wine-colored dress which was short, slit up the hip, and showed plenty of cleavage. She was lighter-skinned than he, and, Olivia noticed, was moving in rhythm with him, as much as the beat.

Olivia didn't wear skirts here. Too many of her 'dance partners' liked to slide their hands up underneath in the dark, seeing her as prey just as much as the horny older men. She wore green dance pants with an elastic waist sitting low on her hips and a loose hanging tank top which made it obvious she was comfortably endowed, and also showed up a generous amount of belly.

She was more proud of her firm, flat belly than her breasts. She'd done nothing to get the second, after all, and plenty to attain the first.

The couple dancing with her incited her imagination. She was no innocent to the lusty desires of men, for many men had gifted her with that information over the years, whether she wanted to hear it or not. Nor was she as innocent as she looked. Pretty, teenage orphan girls in New York rarely stayed innocent for long unless they were very, very lucky.

And she wasn't.

And she had ... experimented... with girls a time or two. Who didn't? It carried less potential dangers than doing so with guys, after all. But she'd never done two people at a time. Nor had she ever imagined doing a man and a woman together.

She was aware that a lot of men had fantasies involving seeing their wife or girlfriend with another woman. One or two men had even hinted at that a time or two. But she'd never been approached by a couple together. And these two, looking unusually prosperous - and thus successful - and thus unlikely, in her mind, to be criminals like so many of the poorer people she encountered, interested her.

That they were older was noteworthy, as well. Maybe they were some middle-class couple out for a sexy time. No threats. No entanglements. No problems. They were also very good dancers, especially the woman. The thought of having sex with an older woman, especially one with the look on her face this one had, was starting to make her nipples tingle.

Olivia rarely got excited at the prospect of sex. Why should she? Sex was often filled with anxieties and problems. Was he going to be any good? Was he going to turn out to be violent? Was he going to have problems and blame her? Was he going to demand information about her and stalk her afterward?

Too many men took the slightest show of interest or gentle concern as a sign of sexual interest. It was exasperating. She'd been accused of leading men on, of being a 'cock tease' several times, and always unfairly.

But this woman looked like she knew a lot. Her confident, smoldering eyes held the promise of a certain level of expertise in that department which would likely exceed her own by a pretty fair margin. It would be a challenge to be in bed with this woman! But to do with her man watching, or - yikes - taking part - now that would be - wild.

And ridiculous! She wasn't the kind of girl who did things like that! Or at least, she'd never done it before. But now she was thinking about it, her mind swirling faster and faster. Life was boring. Life sucked. This was different. This held possibilities for something deliciously exciting. It might allow her to put her problems aside a little longer.

She was also finding it a challenge, which pleased her, to keep up with and match the pair. She was certainly more lithe and graceful at her age, her body fit and toned and athletic. But they both looked like they got a lot of practice in dancing for people their age.

The woman was dancing closer, with her breasts almost touching Olivia's as they moved in time to the music. Her eyes were full of challenge, and Olivia felt both intimidated and... excited. For she didn't think the challenge was about dancing.

The music changed, and the couple shifted apart so she had to either ignore them or turn to one or the other. Since the woman slid her fingers lightly up along Olivia's bare arms, she turned more to her. The woman smiled, showing perfect white teeth, and her hands slid up onto Olivia's shoulders.

She became aware the man had moved in more behind her, and she felt her chest tightening with an unfamiliar sense of thrill as the two caught her between them. She felt her anxieties rising, for she felt like prey between not one but two predators, but since one was a girl, well, woman, she felt reassured.

And then the couple succeeded in framing her between them. She felt the man move in closer, his hands on her hips, as Olivia's rose to the shoulders of the woman before her. The man pressed in, grinding himself into her buttocks, and the woman slid her leg in between Olivia's.

Dark, anxious sexual electricity began to crackle along her skin. She was wary of embarrassment, of what these two might do in public with her, not wanting to be part of some kind of spectacle. But it was fairly dark and other dancers were concerned mostly with themselves. Nothing they were doing was all that unique, anyway.

And at least this guy didn't have an erection as he ground himself into her from behind. Or if he did he was awfully small down there. What caught her attention more was that the woman was now breast to breast with her, and the way the three of them were moving was allowing her thigh to grind up - not too hard - against her sex.

It was, she breathlessly realized, something like having sex with her clothes on - in public!

She could feel the man's breath warm against the side of her neck as he leaned into her.

"My name is Malik," he said in a deep, warm, rich voice. "This is Tamira."

Olivia didn't trust herself to talk. Her nipples were rock-hard, and mashing them against Tamira's breasts was making them throb and tingle. The way the woman was lightly grinding her thigh in against her pussy was making her feel a flood of heat as passion rose within her.

Tamira's hands slid up and down her sides, then in behind her to cup her buttocks. Malik's much larger hands slid around her waist, caressing her bare belly. Then, after waiting, slid up higher and higher before disappearing under the loose hem of her tank top. Olivia's heart beat faster and faster as she felt them caressing the undersides of her breasts.

She had rarely found a guy who knew what to do with her breasts. Generally, they were so excited they treated them like happy children with squeeze toys. This man wasn't doing that. Nor was the woman showing any jealousy, even though she had to feel, if not see his hands under her tank.

Especially when his hands rose to firmly cup her breasts. That put the backs of his knuckles against Tamira's breasts. The woman leaned in and brushed her lips lightly across Olivia's, and her fingers squeezed her buttocks more firmly as she ground her thigh up into her sex.

Olivia's face was getting flushed, and her mind was swirling wildly with indecision, anxiety, and uncertainty. She knew this couple wanted her body, as so many men had wanted her body. But the thought of giving it to them was, as it seldom was, filling her with anticipation and heat.

"M-My name - ."

The woman put her finger across her lips.

"Don't say it. You are a nameless girl," she whispered.

Oh wow! Olivia thought.

The man's hands were squeezing her breasts more firmly, and then slid down and forced their way up under her bra.

She gasped aloud to feel his bare skin against her breasts, and her eyes rolled from side to side to see who might be watching.

"Come with us," the woman said into her ear.

***

She followed the man outside. The woman was holding her hand and smiling reassuringly as Olivia felt her anxieties and fears rising. This is insane, she thought. I'm liable to wind up in a ditch somewhere. This is way too slutty! I shouldn't be doing this!

But a dark heat was swirling within her, and an unfamiliar excitement had her chest tight and her lower belly thrumming with desire. They led her into the parking lot, to a large black sedan - a Mercedes. The doors popped and she felt another jolt of anxiety.

"W-Where are we going?!" she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.

"Our place," the woman said with a purr in her voice.

She slid into the back of the sedan, her hand firm on Olivia, pulling her in after. Olivia had little choice but to follow unless she was willing to aggressively resist, and she wasn't.

The man got in the front, and the car started with a throaty growl as the woman leaned into her and kissed her. This was a lot more soulful than the one in the club. Her lips were warm and soft and full and light, at first, but grew more and more insistent.

Olivia gasped into Tamira's mouth as the woman slid a hand down through the waistband of her pants. She instinctively grasped her wrist, but the long fingers had already slipped into the front of her thong, and pushed a bit lower, finding the top of her smoothly shaven sex.

She felt she ought to stop, to protest, to say something, to at least... well.. try to get to know these people! But Tamira's mouth was hungry and demanding now, her tongue dipping and darting as she leaned in, her breasts pressing against Olivia's chest.

"Sexy girl!" she purred, her right hand sliding through Olivia's hair.

Olivia gasped as she felt her hair tugged back, then Tamira leaned in, chewing and kissing her way along the nape of her neck even as her fingers rubbed skillfully at her sex.

This is insane! she thought wildly.

She rolled her eyes forward and saw Malik watching them in the rear view mirror, and felt another rush of emotion. It was... embarrassing and exciting at the same time.

Tamira released her hair and slid her hand out of her pants, but only to grip her loose tank top and peel it up over her breasts. With how loose her bra was the woman easily pulled it up too and Olivia squeaked again, her arms going across her breasts as she stared out the windows, and at Malik!

But the windows were darkly tinted, and Malik's eyes sent a dark, wild flurry of heat through her body even as Tamira tugged more sharply at her hair. Olivia gasped, her hands raising to grasp the woman's wrist, whereupon her own wrists were captured instead, and pinned casually in place with her own hair wrapped around them.

"I... wait... T-Tamira!" she gasped.

The woman giggled and then bent over even as she pulled back. Olivia gasped as her head was forced back, her back arching, and then gasped again to feel the soft, full lips around her nipple, sucking and licking as long, slender fingers kneaded her breast.

"Gorgeous breasts," Malik said from the front seat.

She shuddered at that, at her nudity before him, at the wild dark thrill of what was happening, and breaking all the rules. She felt the woman's hand sliding back into her pants, her fingers moist now, as if she'd licked them. They rubbed her clitoris, and Olivia moaned under her breath, the muscles in her lower belly spasming.

Heat flared wildly inside her and her nipples burned as Tamira sucked hungrily on first one, then the other. Her teeth bit into the soft pale flesh surrounding them and her tongue swirled and lapped at each stiff, crackling nipple.

Suddenly, everything changed.

Tamira abandoned her hair and breasts, both hands going to the waistband of her pants as the woman slipped forward and onto her knees on the floor. She tugged sharply on the pants, pulling them down under Olivia's buttocks, and even as the startled, half-dazed girl grabbed at them she pulled them over her knees and then down her legs.

"Tamira!"

The woman giggled and pulled them off as Olivia again looked wildly around, and saw Malik's eyes boring into her.

Then she stared down at Tamira as the woman spread her legs wide and began to lick her through her thin thong. The woman's mouth opened wide as she lifted Olivia's legs up and apart, and her tongue licked hard and fast up and down the line of her sex.

The thong was lingerie, not underwear, made to be seen. It was thin lace and microfiber and offered little protection. Still, when Tamira tugged the crotch aside and her tongue found Olivia's bare sex the sudden extreme increase in sensation made her cry out loud.

Her mind churned with heat and uncertainty, for this was a wildly slutty thing to allow to happen, and completely unlike her! Yet it was thrilling like nothing else she'd experienced lately, and she found her breathing getting more and more ragged as Tamira tugged her panties down and off entirely, spread her legs wide, and began to lick.

And there ahead of her in the mirror were Malik's dark eyes.

Heat overwhelmed her, and her hips began to grind helplessly up into the woman's mouth.

Tamira slid her hands upwards, pushing aside Olivia's hands, kneading her breasts as her tongue licked skillfully at her clitoris.

The sexual pressure inside her began to make her feel like trembling and shaking, and Olivia moaned in a low, guttural voice of animal heat as she felt herself nearing orgasm.