Girls' Nightmare Out Pt. 01

Chapter I

She groaned, aware of harsh light leaking around the curtains into her face, and rolled to the other side. Her mind registered surprise—her husband wasn't in bed with her—and dim awareness of some discomfort. There were aches all over, as if she had been working out especially hard the day before, but there was something else...

She blinked her eyes, looking around the familiar room, more brightly illuminated than it should have been in the morning. She checked the clock: 11:16! She sat up, again aware of a strange, almost painful pulling as the covers shifted on her chest. She pushed the covers down, scanning her naked body, eyes still bleary with sleep. Something glittered over her breast, at her left nipple.

She was aware belatedly that the vague discomfort was emanating from there. She blinked again, struggled to focus, and gasped in shock: it was a nipple ring. She scrunched back beneath the covers, searching the room, desperate to know if her husband had seen. How had that happened? She covered her face and tried to recall the events of the past night. She had been with Kathy, on their weekly 'girls' night out.' She remembered leaving—she had driven—but after that... Nothing.

There was no other sound in the house, and she wondered if her family was gone for the day. She reached for the bedside phone to call Kathy—maybe she would have some insight into what they had done. The shift to sitting as she reached for the phone reminded her of her aching body, though; her bladder was complaining, so she pushed the covers back and rolled to her feet, staggering into the bathroom. Her breath caught as her feet touched the cold tile, and she pranced to the mat by her vanity, looking at her torso in the mirror, then down at the real thing.

The bright silver ring entered one side of her left nipple, emerging from the other and dropping in a small loop below the deep pink flesh. There was a tiny bead at the bottom, she guessed where the ring closed. She was surprised that there was no blood, and that the pain was minimal—more an awareness of something different than anything wrong—even when she tentatively reached up and shifted the ring. There was a drop of something clear and hard on the bead, and a little experimentation convinced her it would be better not to try to remove it, as manipulating it hurt, and it didn't look like the ring was going to come out of the bead very easily.

Stepping back, she admitted to herself that it did not look bad, keeping her usually flat nipple semi-erect, capping the firm, round breast nicely. She wondered what her husband would say. And what she would be tell him. Turning to the toilet, she moved onto the mat below the stool and sat down on the cold seat, sighing as she relieved herself. There seemed to be more fluid than usual dripping into the toilet, and she reached down, fingers absently moving through her pubic thatch, which she found had matted tangles, as if she had not cleaned up after having sex.

More shocking, though, as she brought the toilet paper between her legs to wipe, was something hard, nestled between her labia. Melissa flipped the light on in the smaller toilet stall, peering between her legs. She was shocked again, more deeply than before, to find a second silver ring hanging from the mid-portion of her right inner labia. She also noticed the sparse whitish flakes coating her inner thighs, and that suddenly, the aching she felt and the fullness in her belly took on a new, horrific meaning.

She leapt up, throwing the shower on and barely waiting for the water to get hot before hurling herself into the tiny stall. She pulled the handheld showerhead off of the wall, bringing the steaming spray to her sex. She washed her crotch thoroughly if gently—the ring in her labia was more tender than that in her nipple—trying to deny that there were globs of semen flushing from her vaginal canal.

She could not ask her husband if they had had sex, desperately hoping they had, even if she had been asleep. Suddenly apprehensive, she climbed dripping from the shower, retrieving a hand held mirror from the vanity, then climbed back into the relative seclusion of the shower stall to check for any other changes. There were no hickies, scratches, or other marks. She heaved a sigh of relief, though the fear remained; what had she done?!

She climbed out and was toweling dry when her husband poked his head through the door. She jumped, biting her lip, wondering how he'd react to the changes.

"Fred called this morning. Boy, was he irate," He rolled his eyes because the other man was always ranting about one thing or another. "He was sure Kathy was cheating on him; he ranted about how she'd said she was out with you, but she'd come home with a pierced nipple and another ring in her pussy." He smiled, "Damn, hon', I didn't know you had it in you!"

She paused, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

"You like it... them?"

"What's not to like?" he shrugged, "The younger guys at the office are always talking about their girlfriends' piercings and things. I guess it's a sign you enjoy your sexuality, so why should I complain?" He grinned, before adding, "But how long before we can," he moved his hips suggestively, "You know?"

She smiled in spite of herself. Surely he had just taken advantage of her while she was sleeping. She had not been above that a time or two, herself, although he always woke when she was trying to take advantage of him.

"Well, it's a little sore right now; I'll let you know," she dried between her legs carefully as she spoke, shivering at the chill air and as much at the morning's discoveries. "Um, when did I get in?"

"Dunno. I was asleep. You two were out later than usual, though, that's for sure. And you should see how you parked. I could barely get into the garage. Maybe take a cab next time, OK?"

She nodded, a mixture of relief and anxiety roiling in her stomach. She could really drink, she knew, but she had never been so drunk she could not remember things. And she did not drive when she was drunk; a couple times she and Kathy had taken cabs home if there was any question.

Jeff gave her a final lascivious wink, then disappeared, and she absently began to get dressed. As she pulled her panties on, she had a sudden thought, and hurried to the hamper, fearing what she might find. To her puzzlement, there were no panties. She went through the bedding, looked in the bathroom and under the bed, but found nothing. The matching bra lay beside the hamper.

She dressed, opting after the first contact of panties with the ring in her pussy not to wear any, and wisely foregoing a bra as well. She assumed she had left her panties wherever it was she had gone to get pierced, and it took only a moment to decide that she did not want to call around asking about them; the panties were a loss and she would not worry about them.

Dressed and feeling almost whole, if aware of the different sensation at her left breast, Melissa poured herself a cup of coffee and made sure Jeff and her sons were out of earshot before she wandered into her tiny office and picked up the phone. She dialed from memory, hoping Fred was as understanding as her husband had been about what they had done. And aware by what Jeff had said by by knowing Fred it would be the opposite.

He was clearly more uptight than Jeff, which seemed strange, considering Kathy was outrageously easy going compared to herself. The phone rang twice—Kathy always waited for the caller ID to identify a caller—then Kathy picked up.

"Mel?"

"Yeah. Um, can you tell me what happened last night?" There was a long pause.

"I was hoping you could tell me! Fred nearly shit when he saw... well, when he saw what I'd done. I can't remember doing it, though!"

"Me either. I don't remember anything after meeting you for drinks."

"I remember a little more than that. The club was no busier than usual. I remember having a couple drinks, but after that it all gets hazy. When do you want to get your car?"

"It's... it's here, already."

"You drove like that? Damn! I can't believe we did this. Did you ever think about... you know..."

"Getting piercings like this? No way! Jeff laughed that he thought it was sexy when we saw 1 on a 'night time cable' show, but I told him there was no way I was going to do that. And the 2nd ring... I can't believe I let anyone get close enough to do that."

"I know what you mean. This is scary, Mel."

"That's not the half of it; were you... you know, did you have sex last night?"

"You mean with Fred?" Kathy' s voice was suddenly strained.

"I guess. I don't know."

"I, um, don't remember it, but I did it sometime last night."

"Me too." Both women were silent for several moments.

"Oh God! You don't think..." Mel shook her head, not wanting to consider it.

"I can't believe it. I mean, for both of us to... but then I look down, and who'd have guessed both of us would... you know."

"I know. What should we do?" Mel considered Kathy's question. Usually her friend was the one with a plan, the one charging off without explaining her idea.

"Well... we could go to the club; ask if anyone saw anything?"

"That's a start," Kathy agreed, "Though I'm kind of scared what we might learn."

"Better to know," Melissa said, trying to convince herself as much as her friend.

"Oh, I also had a receipt in my purse from Irizumi Tattoo. There's an address for the place in the phone book. It's downtown."

"You're kidding?! That's a long way from the club; there have to be closer places to get... what we got."

"I know... And you wouldn't believe how expensive it was. $200!"

"Wow," Melissa wondered how she had spent that kind of money. Jeff made good money, and she taught elementary school to supplement their income, but that was a lot to spend on something she had not known she wanted.

"Tell you what," Kathy sounded more in control of herself and the situation to Melissa's relief. "You check the club; see what people know. I'll check at this tattoo place. We'll meet for lunch." Melissa agreed, remembering belatedly the rest of her family was at the boys' soccer games.

She scrawled a note to her husband that she and Kathy were going 'looking for some things' and to lunch, grabbed her cell phone and keys, and left. As Jeff had claimed, her Camry was cock-eyed in the garage. It was parked so badly Melissa had a hard time backing out onto the driveway. The seat was farther back than usual, and she had to readjust the mirrors as she left their guarded subdivision and got onto the highway.

As she drove, she examined the car for any clue as to what had happened Friday night. There were none. She shook her head angrily—Jeff had pointed out they usually did their night out during the week—but he and the boys had gone to a movie and he had not been angry; he had merely been warning her to watch out, saying the crowd on weekends could 'be a little rowdier.'

She thrust the thoughts that threatened to follow that line of reasoning away as she pulled into the little dance club just off of 75th street. There were a few cars in the lot, even though it was barely after noon. Before getting out, she completed her search of the car and her purse. She had a receipt matching the one Kathy had described to the tattoo parlor; barely legible writing noting 'tit/lip special' and something she could not decipher.

There was also a receipt from a bar she vaguely remembered as being downtown. The amount was not so impressive that she would expect to be blind drunk. She resolved to visit the strange bar if she found nothing else first—it was not far from their agreed on lunch site in the Plaza.

Inside the bar was more brightly lit than she remembered. She did not recognize the young men working behind the bar, although one eyed her for a moment and nudged his buddy. She blushed, wondering why after exchanging a few words they were both still staring at her. She hurried beyond the bar to the dance floor and booths at the back, looking for someone she knew.

She saw Erica, a weeknight waitress filling napkin dispensers, and after exchanging a somewhat awkward greeting, Melissa haltingly explained that she and Kathy could not remember everything that they had done the night before and were hoping to find some answers. Erica obviously did not belive her, laughing that she did not see many people have 'that good a time' at their bar, and adding that she had been 'at other bars' trying to do the same thing the night before. She realized Melissa was honestly nervous, though, and said to sit and wait, after which she walked over to the guys behind the bar.

Melissa watched as Erica spoke, and felt a wave or relief when one of the pair nodded. The other said something to Erica, then, and the waitress shook her head, talking for another moment, and indicating a height with her hand, Melissa guessed she was describing Kathy. Again the first man nodded, while the second shrugged in clear agreement. Erica turned, a strange expression on her face. She hurried back and motioned for Melissa to stay seated in the booth then slid into the other side where she had been working.

"Steve and Greg worked the bar last night. They say you and your friend were in about 9."

"That'd be about right," Melissa nodded, "What's wrong?" The waitress' expression was increasingly worrisome.

"Well, I told them I think they're thinking of different women, 'cause I know you're both married and just come in to unwind." Melissa nodded. Erica shrugged, "They insist you had a drink with a guy they'd never seen before, and a bit later all three of you left. Greg thinks it wasn't even 10, yet."

Melissa nodded, trying not to show any emotion. She waited, hiding her hands beneath the table so Erica would not see that they were shaking.

"That's not all they said, is it?" Erica blushed, but shook her head.

"Nope. They said you two were hanging all over this guy. They figured he was about to get doubly lucky."

"They'd never seen him before?"

"Nope. He paid cash, tipped all right but not great." She smiled, "In fact, they said the only reason they noticed was that he was black, and was leaving with the best looking women in the place."

Something in Melissa's expression must have concerned the younger woman, because she reached across the table, gripping Melissa's hand gently. "Is something wrong?" Melissa managed to shake her head, mumbling her thanks, and telling Erica they would remember her help the next time they were in. The sprightly girl smiled, "Don't worry, you two are some of my best customers." Melissa tried to smile in reply as she stood. She managed not to look at the bartenders, who were still watching her, as she hurried outside and to her car.

Seated behind the wheel, she sat shaking for several moments, amazed at what she'd heard-she and Kathy had left the bar with a black man? It was surreal. She started to dial Kathy's cell phone, but stopped, resolved to check out the second bar to which she had found the receipt. Digging it out of her purse, she threw some trash—used Kleenex, empty gum wrappers, and a crinkled black plastic wrapper—to the floorboard.

There was more than a receipt, she realized; there was a matchbook with the address. She breathed a sigh of relief that nothing was written on the inside. Clenching the matches in her fist, she turned onto 75th and a moment later was headed north on I-35.

The Edge was a techno club, the latest incarnation in a string of glitzy but short-lived themes. The success of the club Melissa had heard depended on its 'varied' clientele, a polite way of calling it a gay bar. So she was not surprised to see both men and women watching her as she entered the place, which even in the afternoon was dark, with black lights and dim neon lights hanging from the ceiling in chaotic arrays.

She approached the bar, where a bearded man was wiping glasses and hanging them on the overhead rack in preparation for the night's customers. He looked at her once in passing, then again, staring at her, holding a glass in his hand.

"I thought I told you I didn't want to see you in here, again."

"I'm sorry?" Melissa blinked, "I don't understand."

"Look, lady. You're a knock out and so was your friend, and I know we have a lot of interesting people around here, but you can't behave like you did last night. I coulda got closed down; and you 2 shoulda got arrested."

"I'm sorry," Melissa stammered again, blushing fiercely, "I'm just... My friend and I? We don't know exactly what happened last night. I was hoping you could..." The man shook his head.

"I shoulda known. Tried something new, last night? Booze ain't enough to get you up anymore?" Melissa did not answer—did not know how to answer. "You waltzed in with this big black guy, had a couple drinks, and flirted with the bartenders and waitresses both. That's cool; we expect that. I don't even mind when you get up on the tables to dance if you're good, and you two were. But I can't have you flashing your tits in here. And I certainly can't tolerate public sex acts."

"Public sex acts!" Melissa's voice rose in outrage.

"Yeah, that's what I call blowing the guy at the edge of the dance floor. I swear, condom or not, I can't have that going on out here. It's bad enough when you people use the bathroom for your quickies..." His tone softened as he saw Melissa trembling, "Look, I don't mean there's anything wrong with what y'all did; you just can't do it in here like that." She nodded numbly. The bartender waved the rag and glass he was holding dismssively, "The guy didn't put up a fuss and you left without any problem when we asked. So we want you back... just not acting like that." Melissa nodded, her voice sounding tiny as she spoke.

"Uhm, was there anything... unusual about our flashing people on the tables?" The guy stopped wiping the glass and stared at her as if she had made no sense. She blushed more deeply, "I mean did you see did we have any strange rings or piercings... or anything?" She covered her mouth with her hand, too embarrassed to say more. The guy shook his head.

"Honey, if you're that far gone, you need help. Trust me, this life will eat you alive." He looked pointedly at her left hand and her wedding band, "Go home. Be with your family. Don't let this ruin your life." Melissa's legs felt unsteady as she nodded, mumbled a 'thanks,' and rushed back out to her car, wondering what the man ad meant.

As she drove she began to wonder if he knew something he was not saying, but he had seemed honest. In reality, what he had told her—what he had seen happen—had left her so numb with shock that she had not really been processing the rest of what he said. She still was not thinking clearly at all. She checked her watch, hoping Kathy would have some answers.

Lunch at the Classic Cup was subdued. Kathy had her head in her hands over a cup of coffee when Melissa sat down. Her friend looked up and Melissa was surprised to see that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" she had a sudden fear she did not know the worst of it. Kathy shook her head, waiting until the hovering waiter took Melissa's drink order and disappeared. Kathy kept her eyes on her coffee as she spoke,

"God, Mel. I don't know where to start. We were there last night; and we weren't alone. There was a black guy with us, according to the guy in the shop who did this..." she gestured vaguely at her chest, and then down, "Can you believe I let a strange man do... this to my pussy." She glanced around self-consciously; tables at the Cup were close, but no one was seated nearby. "He said... he told me we'd come in asking for 'matching work.' The guy with us suggested we should get clit rings, but when the guy in the studio mentioned there was a sale on 'tits and lips'—doing a nipple and labia ring—the guy said that sounded good and we agreed. He showed me where we signed. No waver or nothing; it's our signatures."