title: Cinderella author: tim4or5 universe: playdate part: 3 summary: Strange things happen at the ball. keywords: mf, cons This story contains sexually explicit material. Email comments to twalden4 at juno dot com with ASSTR in the subject line. Copyright 2014. All rights reserved. Technical note: A gasp is a rapid intake of breath. In this story, it also means a rapid expelling of breath, since it is close to the sound I mean. Sigh, grunt, groan, pant and scream don't work. Cinderella Ash I told Bart I didn't care. My stepmother was never going to like anything I did. It didn't matter how hard I tried or that she never did anything. It was okay. She worked, and I didn't want anyone else messing around in my kitchen. Bart didn't say anything. He's a white mouse. My mother had run off with her boyfriend when I was young. After she came back, I had decided to keep living with my father. I did all the cooking and cleaning. Cooking was mostly chicken or burgers or steaks, and vegetables, frozen potatoes and whatever dessert we wanted. Cleaning was mostly filling the dishwasher, wiping the counter, folding laundry, and taking out the trash. My father made his own bed. Sometimes I ran the vacuum. He remarried when I was twelve. My stepsister did her own laundry, sometimes, but I thought she ought to clean up after herself. Especially since we shared a bedroom. She had never liked Bart. When MJ, my stepsister, had first moved in she had said he smelled bad and threatened to turn him loose. I said he didn't. He smelled like a mouse. And if she did I would buy three more. Two for myself and one for her bed. The other thing was that she told me to stop diddling myself at night. She said it was disgusting. I tried to be quiet and wait until she was asleep. I said it wasn't, and she did the same thing. She said she didn't, but left me alone after that. Which was a good thing. I had videos, in case she ever gave me any more grief. You couldn't really see much except blurry shapes in the dim light, but her movements were suggestive and the soundtrack was unmistakable. We mostly left each other alone. When I was fourteen I told my mother I wanted to take dance lessons, like MJ. Except I wanted to take tango. I never asked my stepmother for anything. She didn't pay attention to me, and my father always seemed to be busy. My mother had remarried too and had her own family, but she found time for me. We found a class and bought some shoes. I wore my usual dark gray pants. I liked them because they didn't show dirt. I learned to interact with people more and made some friends. I hadn't really had any up until then. I liked the lessons and went to some of the practicas that were held at the studio, but the problem was that there weren't enough boys. There was competition for them among the girls, and I didn't much care for any of the ones that weren't already taken. When I was fifteen I heard about a milonga held at another dance studio. It was for all ages but was mostly kids my age and older. There would be different people and boys. Nobody would know me. It would be a chance to try being somebody else. My father said I could go, I just had to be home by midnight. I knew my stepmother would tell him if I wasn't, but I didn't plan to stay that late. I told my mother about it and asked for a dress. She was surprised. I didn't wear them and don't think she had ever seen me in one. I could pay for some of it. That saturday her husband stayed with my half brother and her step kids while we went out and looked at dresses in different stores. It wasn't easy. I had a general aversion to all dresses and couldn't find anything I liked. I didn't want a little black dress. They were all either too cute or too boring. I wanted something more festive. It had to have a skirt that was long enough and loose enough to dance in, but not too long. I didn't want red. White or ivory looked like a bridal gown. I didn't want lace, or frills, or sequins. We considered some sort of dress pants, but they all looked stupid. Finally I found a fairly plain mango colored dress. I wouldn't have picked it if it was the first thing we'd looked at, but it looked good next all the others. It would do. I called my mother in tears the next day. I had tried on the dress at home and it was orange! I looked like a pumpkin! After everything we had gone through. She talked to me and calmed me down. She said maybe it was just the light, and suggested I try it on again after dark. If I still didn't like it, we could take it back. So I did. I couldn't decide. I asked Bart. He couldn't decide either. I called Chris, my friend from dance class, and took the dress over to her apartment after school the next day. She said she didn't know much about dresses. Robin was there. He said he'd never seen a pumpkin that color, it was too soft a shade. Chris's mother thought it looked fine. We all agreed there was something strange about the way the dress seemed to change color at night. I tried dancing in it with Robin. I decided it would probably be okay. Afterward, while she and I and Robin were hanging out in her room, Chris asked me why I wanted to go to the milonga alone? I tried to explain about it being an adventure and seeing what I could do when there weren't any expectations, but I could tell by the looks on their faces that I wasn't making any sense. I thought since I was making changes I might as well keep going. I dyed my hair a lighter shade. The box said blond but I didn't think so. My mother had said she would do my makeup. I didn't usually wear any. I wasn't sure what I thought of the result, but agreed she hadn't used too much. And I didn't wear my glasses. I got to the studio where the milonga was being held as it was getting dark and left my coat on a chair. I wondered if anyone would ask me to dance. A boy who was older than I was did. I was a little nervous, but he danced at my level and I concentrated on what I was doing. I did okay. Then somebody else asked me. I danced with several people. I tried to be more outgoing than I usually was and flirt back with some of the boys. I may have sounded stupid but I didn't care. That was part of the point of my being here. I could tone it down later. Or not come back. Then a boy my own age asked me to dance. I said I would love to. I had noticed him dancing with other girls. He was a little flashy but moved nicely. I was afraid he would make me look clumsy but he didn't. He made me look better than I was. He said his name was Brett. I told him I was Nora. That was my real first name. I didn't like it, so when I signed my name I used N Ashley. I looked into his dark brown eyes and decided I liked him. During the third dance of the tanda I let him know I was interested. I stepped into him briefly when we went into close embrace and felt his partial erection against my belly. My lower belly. He wasn't that much taller than I was. Touching thighs was normal in tango, but this wasn't. I had never dared try it at dance class, the teacher was too observant. But nobody here knew me. It was only for an instant, and then we moved slightly apart again on the next step. If we tried to dance like that we'd trip over each other. I didn't pretend it was an accident. I just pretended it never happened. So did he. I think he was a little surprised, but it was hard to tell. We talked a little during the cortina and drifted toward the door. Then he invited me down the hall. I hesitated, because I wasn't sure what that meant and because I didn't want to seem too eager. I accepted, because it was partly a kid's dance and how bad could it be and because I was eager for whatever it meant. Almost whatever. We went out the door separately. He went first and I followed. We went past the bathrooms and around a corner. He backed me up against the wall and kissed me. He was aggressive but not overly so. Our lips and tongues meshed in a friendly way. I melted. He put his hand on my breast and I felt it moving around. He held my erect nipple between his thumb and the side of his finger. He had already felt my breast while we were dancing, sometimes both at once, but not like this. He moved his hand to my hip and I felt his fingers working. I kept kissing him. Then he had his hand inside my panties before I realized what he was doing. I wouldn't have let him if I had, at least I don't think I would have, but I liked it there once it was. What I had felt on my hip had been his fingers pulling up my dress. Now they opened me up and found my wetness. They went back to work. His erection pressed a little more firmly against my other hip and started moving. Or I did. I couldn't tell who was first. This was nice. I began to be afraid he wouldn't have time to finish, so I lifted up my leg to give him better access. It sort of bobbed there. Oh yes. I was getting close. There, uh, uh, uh, ah. I resumed kissing him while he slowed down, then lowered my leg back to the floor. I got scared when I saw another couple watching us. He took his fingers out of me and wiped them on my panties. My dress fell back into place. The other couple turned away and started kissing, and I relaxed some. They were about the same age as us. I guess older kids didn't need to use a hallway. We walked back and exchanged a brief look before I went into the bathroom. I dried myself off in a stall and then tried to fix my makeup. I didn't really know what I was doing. I was only a little dazed, but this wasn't one of my skills. I went over to the snack table for some water when I went back inside. Then I took a deep breath and put my glasses on to see what they had. There were grapes and crackers and dip and some little cake things. The nuts were gone. I snatched off my glasses when I heard Brett say something behind me. I turned around and he asked if I wanted to dance? I thanked him and said I wanted to sit this one out, then watched him walk away and ask someone else. I walked over to a chair and sat down. I looked at the clock a few moments later and panicked. It was nearly eleven thirty and I was about to miss the bus. I grabbed my coat and ran out the door. I would have missed the bus if it wasn't late. They usually were, except when they were early. I should have noticed when I was digging out quarters, but didn't realize my glasses were missing until after I got home. My father came into my room the next day and said my stepmother had told him I was late getting in. He asked if I was okay? I said yes, the bus had just been late. He said that was what he'd thought. He asked if I'd had a good time? I said yes, it was nice dancing with new people, but I hadn't really had a chance to talk to anyone. People mostly just danced. He asked if I had met any boys? I said some. There was one I sort of liked. It was fun dancing with him but I didn't know what he thought about me. I saw my father trying not to look at me but his eyes kept drifting back. I knew he cared about me even though we had never really been able to talk to each other. I seemed to make him nervous. I don't know what he saw in my stepmother, but they seemed to get along. It was just me she didn't like. He said he was glad I had enjoyed myself. I called the dance studio and got my glasses back a few days later. I washed the dye out of my hair. Girls changed their hair color often enough that nobody thought it was a big deal. I put away my dress. I told Bart I was too embarrassed to go back. I didn't tell him it was from what I had done, from letting him do it, from people seeing us, and from running out without saying anything. He didn't have my phone number and I didn't have his. Would he have asked for mine if I'd stayed? He'd had a chance. Maybe I would have been sorry if I'd given it to him. I didn't know. At least now I wouldn't have to wait for him to call. It was a good thing he had only had his finger inside. I would have ended up looking like a pumpkin, with or without my dress. Brett She left first. I followed a minute later and waited. We went down the hall when she came out of the bathroom. I backed her up against the wall and kissed her. She responded well. I had to back them up quickly enough that they got excited, but not so fast that they felt overly threatened. I put my hand on her breast. She didn't object. I felt her softness and yielding nature. Her nipple got hard quickly. At the right moment I moved my hand down and tickled her hip. I kissed her a little harder to distract her and started pulling up her dress. When I reached the hem I slid my hand into her panties before she knew what I was doing. This was the critical point, but since I had already gotten this far she would probably let me stay. She did, and was getting excited before she had time to change her mind. She had shaved everything off. Nora had left all or most of her hair in place. It had felt incredibly sexy. Other girls shaved themselves into cute patterns. But sex was about how a girl felt, not about how she looked. How she looked was for signaling. If she looked too good it meant she was. You were allowed to look a little but not touch. Girls who were really interested let you know by how they moved, even if they didn't realize it. But it had to be a subtle movement. A slight pout meant you could kiss her, a little jut or jiggle of the breasts meant you could feel her up, a twist toward you or hint of sway in the hips granted you access, a gentle thrust meant she would go all the way. Larger movements warned you to stay away. They were just supposed to get you excited. I had looked for Nora when I got to the milonga, and been more disappointed that she wasn't here than I had expected. I had danced with other girls and waited. When she didn't show up I had invited someone else down the hall. And now here I was with my hand in her underwear and thinking of Nora. She wasn't the first girl I had invited down the hall, and obviously not the last. But there hadn't been a lot. My ideas were more speculation than actual experience. Most didn't let me put my hand up their dress. They figured out what I was doing or moved away too quickly. None of them would give me their phone number. This one thanked me after she came and went back to the dance. I washed my hands and followed. I kept thinking of Nora. Why did I like her? Other girls had bigger breasts and more powerful orgasms. Why would she like me? I was just some idiot who took advantage of her. And why hadn't I asked for her phone number? I asked another girl to dance, but when the tanda ended I asked if she knew Nora, a girl who had been here last month? She said she didn't. I tried the same thing a few more times with no better results. By then everyone must have known I was looking for Nora. People talked and rude behavior wasn't well tolerated. I had about given up when a girl came over to where I was sitting and asked me to dance. Girls don't usually ask boys to dance the tango, but there is no rule against it. I led her out onto the floor. I had seen her dancing and noticed that she was new here. She said her name was Chris, and I said I was Brett. You don't get much chance for eye contact during the dance, I had to watch where we were going, but I saw her looking at me while we were in open embrace. I smiled back a little. Afterward I asked if she knew Nora, a girl who had been here last month? She said yes, she did, and invited me to sit with her. After I did I asked her for Nora's phone number. She said she couldn't give it to me. I asked if she would give her mine and ask her to call me? I wanted to see her again. She said if I was so anxious to see her, why had I taken another girl down the hall? I hesitated. There wasn't any good answer for that. I said I had looked around for Nora but hadn't seen her. I hadn't realized how much I liked her until I was, um, committed. I didn't see any point in denying what I had done. I said I was sorry. She said really? I looked at her. Then I sort of shrugged and said well, no, not really. Only if it messed up my chances with Nora. I asked if she would give her my number? She said she would do that and turned to borrow her friend's phone. Afterward I asked her what she thought my chances were? She said fair. I found that encouraging and felt relieved. I smiled and thanked her. Then she said this was Ash. I should ask her to dance. So I did. She moved well. She felt familiar, but I had danced with lots of girls. I kept thinking of Nora. I apologized for being distracted and said I would try to do better. She said it was okay. Her voice sounded a little strange. During the third dance she bumped into me when we went into close embrace, and I felt her belly pressed up against my erection. I stopped. The world kept swirling around us. I looked at her. She was wearing glasses, but I reached up and took them off. I was the one who was blind. She had on a pale blue shirt and dark gray pants. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her hair was a darker shade. And she hadn't looked at me until just now. Her eyes were the same olive green. She said Nora was her first name, but she didn't use it much. We stepped apart so we could dance into the center of the ronda, then stopped again. I already had my arms around her. All I had to do was kiss her. So I did. Maybe if I had tried this with all the girls here I would have found her sooner. Wasn't there a story where a man went around sticking something into something? I closed my eyes but had to open them again. The room spun around so much I thought I was going to fall over. Ash suggested we go find a wall somewhere to steady ourselves. next: 7dwarfs.txt