Post 223: Scenes from a Party, p6

“So, what’re you?” the tall, stick-thin mustached guy said, nodding and sloshing, towering over me on the dance floor, “Some kind of mini boss-man?”

“I, uh…” I began, as one of his friends, an overweight Latino guy, ‘accidentally’ bumped me.

“Yeah I think he’s the doctor, or something,” said the third, a red-haired goon with a sloppy beard. He had spilled some beer on me earlier.

“Is that right?” slurred mustache, “Are you the guy they all talk about?”

Okay yeah I’m not sure how I ended up here, either, surrounded on all sides by three lunky goons. Just ten minutes ago I’d been dragged from the powder room, taken by the hand by the statuesque blonde Amelia. Trailing after her, shorter by nearly a foot in her party heels and filmy green dress, when we hit the small dance floor at the club I was immediately swarmed by women - all taller than me. Buffeted and bumped by hips and thighs, I tried to keep up with the music which - even this early in the night, before anyone had eaten - was already loud and energetic. Amelia, Stephanie, Katie and Kori: big blondes. Then there was Bobbi and Brittni and Bianca and Bessie. Shanette and Katarina had found me again, as had Josie and Lakshmi along with a bunch of other girls that I barely knew. No, I couldn’t help but notice, Melissa...yet.

But there were plenty of others. They danced with me, they danced around me, they danced all over me. Laughing and drinking and apparently paying no mind to how closely squashed they were to me, that I was their boss, and that this was alllllll totally inappropriate. I’m not a great dancer and felt fifty shades of awkward, but apparently I was amusing enough to be the center of attention. The flagrant flirtations were bold and blatant from each and every one, and I was the shortest on the floor.

There were other guys here; I think I’d mentioned that before. The guys on the construction team had been invited, and a few actually showed up: younger guys, the braver ones, it seemed. Mostly they’d been hanging around the periphery, watching the girls from behind the bar or the shadows of the booths. But as we all danced, I slowly became aware of some of them making their way towards me.

And now I’m surrounded by meatheads. Momentarily separated from the girls, whose attentions were briefly pulled away. They were all hugging someone, crowing and clucking, congratulating them for something.

“I dunno why they all dig this guy so much,” red beard said to his friends, ignoring the gaggle of girls and the fact that I was right there.

“Yeah he’s a twerp,” added mustache.

I hated it, I fucking hated it, how weak and meager I felt. Not that I was ever a big and burly dude, but I’d rarely found myself intimidated just by being near other people. But everyone now, in this crowd, seemed so big. I was five-three, I think, and everyone was either in heels or just naturally much bigger than me. And these guys, being no exception and obviously intent on being bullies, were  starting to scare me.

Suddenly, though, they stepped back.

“Leave him alone,” came a voice, a harshly female voice from above and behind me, “Did AJ put u up to this?”

“A-AJ..?” one of them stammered.

“Y-yeah…” said another.

Suddenly hands were on my shoulders, spinning me around.

I gasped.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking me up and down with concern. Angie. New hire, in accounting. Longtime friend of Melissa’s, she’d told me. Big breasts, which had starred in the now countless, aggressively inviting little videos she’d been sending me this week. Her dress tonight was red, fitted, and low-cut to the extreme. It left almost zero to the imagination as far as her heavy chest was concerned.

“Uh….y-y-yeah,” I answered, suddenly mortified.

“Where is he?” she snapped, looking over my head to the three construction goons who I felt, already, retreating behind me, “Is he here?” I was shorter than her, but they were taller still. She looked up at them; I tried to keep my eyes from just sinking into her tits.

“Y-yeah he was dancing with that really big blonde girl…” I heard one of them answer, as my eyes helplessly, slowly dropped to the voracious cleavage Angie had on display, like they were being drawn by magnets, to a safer place. “I don’t kn-“

“Cynthia?” Angie asked, obviously annoyed at something.

“Yeah I think so…” came a male voice, as I struggled to pull my eyes up before Angie’s attention found its way back down to me. The ubiquitous perfume of these girls still filled the room, and seemed to keep my willpower crippled. Her tits were a comfortable place to keep my attention while the noisy confrontation went on above me.

“T-they went back that way…” someone added.

Angie’s eyes shifted, she turned her head and looked across the dark room, to my right. My gaze followed, and saw a dark hallway over which a sign hung: Private Lounges. Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re coming with me,” she suddenly announced, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me from the guys, dragging me out of the crowd, and down the small, dimly-lit hallway. Her thick red hips rolled in front of me with confidence but stopped in front of a door, ajar. Inside, someone was groaning as Angie peeked in. She paused, smiled strangely, and pulled the door shut.

“Who’s in th-?” I asked. What’s going on, and why do I feel, suddenly, like I’m being watched?

“Shush,” Angie stopped me, apparently unaware - or at least heedless - of the strange presence I felt hovering over us. She pulled me away with new vigor, “let’s try these other doors…”

The lights flickered.

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