They're sitting in the back of the limo, still breathing hard. The Hand of Glory glows green and sickly in its box, and the green light shines off of the sweat still on their faces
Fanny lifts a damp nylon curl off of her head limply and twists her head, just a little, to stare at Jack. "Brilliant," she says, tiredly.
"Fucking right," Jack says, twisting his head to look at hers.
"Still up?" she asks, barely lifting her hand to lift another curl.
"Yeah, but you don't see me being able to move, do ya?"
She shifts, just a little, moving closer to him, pressing thigh against thigh. "Always knew I could beat you, sweetheart."
He snorts. "As if!"
She slides her hand onto his thigh. "I'm moving, aren't I?"
He opens his mouth, but he's unable to speak because Fanny's got her tongue in his mouth and it's just like kissing girls but it isn't just like kissing girls because Fanny's been dancing all fucking night and there's the faintest hint of stubble underneath her smudged foundation.
For some reason there's music in the limo now — something low and raunchy that he swears he's never heard before but it makes his hips thrust up in time to the beat. Or is that because Fanny's got her hand carefully placed between his legs and is rubbing him?
He can feel her — his — her cock against his thigh, pressing through the miniskirt and the knickers and he's convinced that this is still part of the Harlequin's test.
That's the only reason he's doing it, right?
She's still kissing him, tasting of fruit gum and fruitier drinks, still rubbing his cock through his jeans and pants, still humping his thigh and it shouldn't be turning him on, he's not into blokes, but Fanny's not really a bloke, is she?
No bloke dances the way she does.
And fuck fuck fuck it feels so good and the E is still good and he's feeling everything and everyone and he dimly remembers that story about the girl who was dancing in the rain while on E and kept on orgasming until she was dead, and he's convinced that this'll happen to him.
"Sorry, Boy, we lost him in the limo ride. Guess I shouldn't've licked his ear like that, huh?"
He should've known something like this would happen. Especially since he fancies a girl named Boy.
Fanny's got her miniskirt pulled up and her knickers down. Fanny's got her cock out and it's a big one — he can't believe she hides it so easily — and it fits perfectly into his hand, even as she unzips his jeans and slides her perfectly manicured nails into his y-fronts.
It doesn't take long. Fanny's a pro. He should remember that, but right now, he's too busy shooting in her hand, shooting all over his jeans and her skin and fuck he can feel her come too — biting his shoulder as she curses in a near-dead language.
She slumps against the seat, laughing. He catches her eye and grins.
This The Invisibles story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.