Stephanie's Revenge by Susanna Hughes Page B

excitement she was creating in both men's eyes
carry her away with the pounding rhythm.
    When the slow
number came this time she pulled them both to her, dancing with
them in a little triangle, until Carlo broke away, not liking what
she was making them do. She immediately closed up on Angelo,
pushing her belly into him, holding him tightly in her arms,
whispering into his ear.
    'Are you going
to fuck me, Angelo?' she breathed. 'Are you good at fucking? I need
to be fucked.'
    She knew he
didn't understand a word she said, but her tone must have meant
something. She felt his erection grow. She pushed her thigh hard
between his legs and bit the lobe of his ear. She ran her hand down
over his buttocks. His cock hardened.
    'Si?' she
questioned. 'Bene?'
    'Cosi?' he
said, pushing his growing erection against her.
    'Si. Si.' Now
it was not a question.
    She kissed him
on the mouth, a hard, penetrating kiss, her hand holding the back
of his head so she could push her lips up against his. She broke
the kiss, looked straight into his eyes, then kissed him again. His
erection felt like a bone now, sticking up between their
bodies.
    'Bello,' she
said, looking at him again. 'That's what I want, Angelo.'
    She led him
off the dance floor in the middle of the song. Carlo was sitting on
a stool, at the table. She came up behind him and pushed herself
into his back, the hem of the leather skirt, because the stool was
so low, brushing the nape of his neck. Her hands massaged his
shoulders. Then she pulled him to his feet and on to the dance
floor.
    It was
Angelo's turn to look sulky. He sat and poured himself more
champagne.
    Stephanie felt
Carlo's body against her. It was different from Angelo's. Angelo
was slim, skinny, bony. Carlo was muscled, plump but hard. Even his
hands were rough and calloused. She hugged him to her. But none of
her tricks had his penis unfurl, not the ear biting, not the hand
between his buttocks, not the seductive words she whispered to him,
which, even in another language, must have been clear in their
tone.
    The evening
continued in the same vein. More champagne was consumed. More
dancing. More sulky looks from the one consigned to sit it out at
the table, to watch the object of his affection dancing with
another.
    It was the
perfect evening for Stephanie. The dancing made her body feel
energised and alive. The tension between the two men amused her,
the champagne relaxed her, and the music reached inside her to the
rhythms and tempos that, she had recently discovered, were now
essential to her life. The lack of conversation, the need to make
small talk removed, was curiously refreshing. It was a silent
movie, a ballet of seduction.
    She played
with them like a cat, teasing them with her paws, giving them a
little nudge, a little scratch with her claw.
    At two she
decided she had drunk enough champagne and paid the bill, giving
the waiter a generous tip. Both her male companions looked
embarrassed as she counted out the money, but neither attempted to
offer to pay. Dom Perignon is expensive in any language. What the
men thought she was, or did, to be able to afford such luxuries,
she did not know or care.
    For a final
dance she took Angelo's hand and smooched with him around the dance
floor. The DJ was playing mostly moody music now, and the many
couples on the dance floor were stuck to each other, their hands
caressing arms and backs, their lips pressed to shoulder, neck or
cheek.
    'We go home
now,' Stephanie said. 'Casa...' she remembered the word.
    'Si.' He
smiled. 'Si.'
    In the bar
again, Angelo looked distinctly pleased with himself. He said
something to Carlo, who shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of
acceptance. They followed Stephanie to the cloakroom, where she
exchanged the plastic token and a ten thousand lira note for her
fur coat. Angelo held it for her while she slipped her arms into
the sleeves.
    'Bella,' he
said. She was not sure whether he meant her or the coat.
    Carlo led the
way up the stairs. They