The Organizer
by Jill...
Denise flitted here and there about the room, making sure the concert went off as planned. A benefit for women's issues, the concert had been organized by Denise and several of her friends. Unfortunately, neither her friends nor the punk bands they preferred were among the most reliable people when it came to schedules. She'd been calling bands and verifying their attendance for the last several hours, as the easily-identifiable fans of one band, Shock, lined up outside the hall. They looked like old-time seventies' punks, with patches, safety pins and black Mohawked hair. All Denise hoped was that Shock would show up before the first act went on.
Chris came racing into the room where Denise paced on her cell phone. "Shock is here! They need help with equipment!" Denise didn't relish the task of lugging more heavy sound gear, but was glad she'd relinquished her usual wardrobe of skirts, silk and suede for a pair of decorated black jeans and a simple sleeveless sweater for the event. Earlier, the sound man (30 minutes late, of course) had come in, demanding help with all of his microphones, speakers, sound boards, amplifiers and assorted other sound equipment. Denise called down the hall to two of her other organizing partners before darting off outside. Shock, distinguishable by their fans only by their age and size in comparison to the young, skinny punk kids outside, came to the hall lugging instruments and equipment. Denise grabbed a bag with sound accessories and darted inside, breathing a sigh of relief.
The last band is here! she thought to herself. Well, almost... One local band, Fusion, still had two members apparently somewhere on the interstate. Nevertheless, with her headliners present and the fans outside appeased, the show would go on.
The doors opened, and some of the punk kids came in, along with a contingent of radicals and activists tabling for their upcoming events, and assorted friends and associates of Denise and the other organizers. Lisa Croni, a student with an acoustic guitar who played regularly at local bars, took first to the microphone, singing and playing to her fans. Still, Denise raced around, rounding up her friends Rachel and Angela to woman the money-collection table at the door (suggested donation $3 for the night's entertainment).
Funds taken care of, most bands firmly in place, Denise allowed herself a moment of rest, sagging back against the wall. I wish Jack were here, she mused to herself, listening to Lisa sing a bitter love song. He always makes me feel better, and I'm so stressed that I really do need him tonight. Jack was Denise's boyfriend, and had been for three years now. He attended school several states away, and she rarely got to see him. She loved him, and it was worth it, but when she was under stress, she wanted him there with her to put his arms around her, cradle her, hold her and erase her worries in their mutual passion. Denise sighed and stepped away. No use in musing the night away....she had a concert to get going!
Will, the sound man, had a sudden crisis: none of the electrical outlets on the left side of the room worked. This was fine for acoustic performers like Lisa, but later in the show, the heavy punk bands would require outlets for their electric instruments. Denise darted out the door to a convenience store, where she bought an outrageously overpriced surge strip before running back to the hall. The surge strip assured the left side outlets, which worked, would provide enough power for the bands' instruments.
She perused the literature on the tables around the edges of the hall, covering everything from feminist issues to police brutality to animal rights, and checked out the door, where the crowd of Storm fans still waited. Having had their hands stamped for admission, they chose to wait outside and smoke until their band of choice performed.
Suddenly, she recognized the faintly familiar face of a man she hadn't seen for five years outside, heading toward the entrance--Mark Douglas. When they'd planned the benefit for women's issues, Denise and her fellow organizers had to select a group to receive the monies raised. While searching the Internet, she'd discovered Mark's group based in her hometown, which aided poor women with housing, legal and social justice problems. She'd met him five years before during a rally or leafletting--something about cutting the military budget, or promoting national health insurance. She'd been fifteen then, and he didn't make that much of an impression on her. Nevertheless, she knew he was committed and dedicated to his work. The other organizers agreed that his fund would be an excellent beneficiary of the concert; Denise e-mailed him, reminding him of their acquaintance, and he was delighted to come and accept the money, telling her his group received few donations.
"Mark!" Denise shouted to catch his attention through the crowd. "Did you get here all right?" She'd been the one to give him somewhat iffy directions.
"Denise? Hi! I made out fine till just around the corner from here, but I found it. It's great to see you!" Mark looked just about the same as she remembered from five years ago; the same short dark hair, brown eyes and friendly grin.
:"It's great to see you, too." She led him past Rachel and Angela, introducing them along the way, and sat him at a table where he could place out his pamphlets and literature.
For the next several hours, she continued to pace the room, through a missing-instrument crisis, a noise complaint to the local police and other distractions. In between, she chatted with Mark. It was great to see an old acquaintance again.
"We've got this cartoon about Bush for President..." Denise giggled. Mark had a biting sense of humor as well as commitment to his work. He watched her in obvious admiration as she kept everything under control.
"You're one incredible hell-raising agitator," he said. She giggled, then dashed off to work the sound boards while Will relieved himself.
Denise and Mark talked, and flirted a bit, through the night. All the bands were present, and Denise made sure to keep tight control over the length of their performances, cutting them off when necessary with warnings. Finally, Shock was on stage, the crowd of punks were inside, forming a makeshift mosh pit by the stage, and the concert was heading toward completion. Mark leaped up and joined in the moshing. "I went to these concerts in the early eighties!" he exclaimed. He didn't look the part now, in chinos and a button-down shirt, but he assured her of his wild past.
Finally, the witching hour struck, and at midnight the concert was over. Soon the last Shock fan exited the building, and all that was left was to clean up. Denise raced around grabbing up flyers and cups on the floor, while Will packed up the equipment and Rachel and Angela counted the evening's take. Mark remained at his table, though packing up his flyers.
Denise had a raging headache by this time and was truly exhausted. She leaned back upon a neighboring empty table, laying out backwards, causing her sweater to ride up. Mark suddenly poked her in the navel, causing her to come to sudden alertness. "I didn't mean anything--" he said.
Denise just laughed. Her fellow organizers were heading home. Mark had an hour's ride back to his hometown. "Now, you have to give me the directions back," he said. While she explained the shortest route to the interstate, Mark asked her if she had a ride back to her dormitory. He offered one to her, and they left, Mark escorting Denise to his parked car further down the block.
They rode back across campus, laughing and talking all the way. Finally, they were parked across the street from her building. "Mmm, I'm so tired," Denise breathed. "Bed will feel good."
In response, Mark reached around to her back and began to knead her shoulder with his left hand. As his hand worked into her shoulder, kneading, loosening, massaging, Denise let out a long moan. His right hand came up to join his left as she slumped over the dashboard. Her neck, her shoulders, her spine....he was attacking them all with his hands, working out all of the night's stress. "See, I think this should be an activist law," Mark said.
"Backrubs for organizers!" Denise said. "Hmmm, you may be able to recruit some more that way--oh! Mmm, that feels good." They sat that way for a long moment, his hands kneading her back through the sweater. His hand coasted up to her cheek and turned her to face him, and he kissed her softly on the lips, trailing his own lips up and over her cheek.
Jack, thought Denise, oh, Jack, what should I do? I want...but I want you. I love you.
Nevertheless, Mark's fingers caressed her hair, brought her back down to him for another kiss. She knew she could just stop this if she didn't want it. He would understand. And she loved Jack. But she was hungry, and she wanted, tonight. His lips were more insistent now, his tongue reaching out to taste her mouth. Denise sucked him inside, rewarded with a soft "mmmm" from deep in his throat.
Mark's fingers traced down along Denise's side. Jack, what should I do? she thought. You've told me I could be with other people if I wanted to. That it excited you. Should I be with him and write it all later to you? Mark kissed Denise's forehead, cheek and returned to her lips. He reached around her as he kissed her, continuing his earlier massage of his shoulders. Denise shook her thoughts away and sank against Mark's chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling slightly away to look into her eyes. "Are you all right with everything we're doing?"
Denise didn't reply, but put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head to hers for another kiss as she slipped her fingers through his short hair, amazed at its softness. Denise heard some whirrs and clicks, Mark turned off the ignition and their seats were slightly reclined, their windows slightly open to let in the late night spring air. He kissed her with much more passion, and she leaned further across the center partition between their seats. Her tongue darted into his mouth. Jack. Jack. Jack. His name beat over and over again in her head, and she kissed Mark harder, sliding her hand over his chest, smoothing his shirt over his body. His body felt so good under her palms, his kisses so soothing. Yes, Jack, I want Mark tonight, she thought.
Mark's fingers molded over her breasts through her sweater, stroking them, holding them, rubbing them in his hands. He discovered her erect nipples with obvious pleasure, looking into her eyes. "Oh, baby...am I dreaming?" he asked.
"Oh, no, " she said, giving him a wicked glance before toying with his own nipples through the thin cotton of his shirt. Mark leaned over, running his hands up and under her sweater, caressing her stomach and navel as his tongue fluttered around her ear, his mouth enclosing her whole ear, then her lobe, then just his tongue again wetly tracing her lips, her cheek, her ear. Denise could feel the distinct stirrings of pleasure, the prickles beneath her skin as his mouth caressed her skin. He kissed the side of her neck, licking, nibbling and suckling, while he pulled her sweater up with one hand, and pulled the cups of her bra below her breasts with the other.
Suddenly his mouth was on her breast, or her other breast, or between them, licking and suckling, nibbling at her aroused reddened nipples as if to gain sustenance from them. One of his hands smoothed her hair, the other rested between her legs, the heel of his hand pressing into her through her jeans. Her hips bucked of their own accord as he suckled her, as her hand ran blindly over his chest, his back...his lips felt so good, her breasts felt full and heavy and her whole body was dense with desire for him. When he returned his lips to the back of her neck, biting and sucking hard as one of his hands toyed, pulling and probing at her moistened breasts and the other rested between her widespread legs, driving the seam of her jeans into her most sensitive places as she bucked up to his hand.
Denise's neck had always been so deliciously sensitive...and the way his hands pulled at her nipples, the way he tugged at her aroused breasts, excited her all the more. He buried his head into the hair at the back of her neck, covering her skin with wet sucking biting kisses as she shook a little in his arms, moaned a little and altogether encouraged him, pushing hard into his hand between her legs. She could feel her clit through her thong and her jeans pushing against the seam, pushing herself toward release and she came like that, with him almost feeding from her neck as he caressed her body.
She leaned back hard, relaxed, and Mark came around to face her, kissing her tenderly and pushing the hair from her face. "Can we move somewhere more comfortable?"
Denise gasped. She'd almost forgotten they were sitting parked on a public street of a busy college town where not only cars, but pedestrians and cyclists, frequently passed at all hours of the night. She idly noticed an East Middletown police car sitting across the street, apparently occupied. East Middletown was several miles away, and she was curious as to their presence.
"I'd love to take you inside with me...but my roommate, well, she wouldn't appreciate it." One room for two people wasn't much, especially when one of the two decidedly frowned upon sexual activity. Denise always thought one incident summed up their disparate attitudes: One of the girls across the hall, Julie, had walked in on the other, Marissa, having sex with her boyfriend. Denise's roommate had added in the telling, "How awful!" Denise responded, "Oh! Poor Marissa!" Her shocked roommate had responded, "What!? I meant poor JULIE!"
"Oh, I forgot about roommates, being out of school. What a shame," he said, kissing her again and brushing his hand back over her exposed nipple. "You're lucky I'm not the abducting type, or I'd take you all the way home with me tonight."
Then I couldn't call Jack, Denise thought, and finally understood the difference Jack had been talking about, between mutual pleasure and love. I love Jack, and I'll explore pleasure with Mark tonight, she decided.
"Mmm, too bad you live so far away...still, we have a little room in this car, and I assure you more privacy then we'd have in my room." Denise grinned at the new experience--the much-fabled making-out-in-a-car she'd never actually done in her high school days. Mark checked that the car was safely turned off, then slid across the console, giggling as he awkwardly straddled the cupholders and emergency-brake between the seats to share Denise's seat with her. He rolled her over on top of him in their seat, reclined back against the rear seat. "Look at those cops over there!" she said. "I wonder why they're hanging around here...I wish they'd go away and give us some space!"
"Silly voyeurs...forget about them," he murmured. She giggled, and then Denise's back was against Mark's chest, and he nibbled at her ear while unbuttoning her jeans and pulling down her zipper. Her jeans were pushed down her thighs, followed by her sheer black thongs, as Mark's hand drifted down her belly to the curls of her pubic hair, combing it lightly through his fingers before dipping lower, between her lips, feeling her wetness, his forefinger dipping down lightly inside her and then circling her aroused clitoris. Her giggles died as she relaxed into the pleasure of his fingers, grinding her ass against his body under hers. She could feel his cock, hard and ready, through his pants, and she wanted it.
But for now, Denise was content with Mark's relentless circling of her clit, with his insistent finger-fucking, with his fingers tugging at her nipple and his tongue in her ear and down her neck, stimulating all of her most sensitive places with his body. She reached behind her, stroking his hair, stroking his side, wanting to touch him and make him feel everything she was experiencing, the sheer, transcendent pleasure. It's been so long, I last saw Jack three months ago, she thought.
Mark craned his head over her shoulder to look down Denise's body, over the roll of the sweater above her neck to her breasts and the expanse of soft pale skin below, to the curls of her pubic hair in which sat his hand, to the very tops of her thighs before they disappeared into her lowered jeans. "So beautiful," he murmured and stroked her again.. Denise rolled over, above him, facing him, and kissed him intensely, insinuating her tongue into his mouth as she unbuttoned his shirt, stroking his chest as it was revealed to her, coasting her fingertips over the light curls of hair sprouting here and there across his torso, running her fingernails down his arms, through his armpits, catching his nipples lightly in her fingers. She wet a finger in her mouth and circled his nipple, leaning down to kiss him again.
The breeze wafted into the car, the coolness pricking up awareness in Denise's skin. This was exciting, she thought, so very exciting. Mark wrapped his arm around her, stroking her back and feeling and squeezing the soft, full, rounded globes of her ass before dropping his hand back down between her legs from behind, returning his attentions to her moist, swollen labia, which he plucked and fingered as she rubbed her body over his.
Disengaging herself, she sat back, leaning against the dashboard as she unbuckled Mark's belt and unbuttoned and unzippered his pants. His eyes were on her, heavy-lidded and deepened with desire. They were so close together...She pushed his trousers over his slim hips, following with his soft cotton boxers, until he was as exposed to her as she was to him, his cock jutting out from his belly, hard and aroused, the head reddened to a nearly purple shade as the first beads of moisture began to slicken it. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking his hardness, reaching lower to cup and cradle his testicles, then up again to encircle his cock.
Simultaneously, he insinuated his own searching fingers between her legs once more, penetrating her, spreading her labia, pressing her thumb over and over again against her clitoris as she stroked his cock, encircling him with firm, long strokes, then tracing the veined texture of him lightly, playing over the head of his cock, enticing from him more of his moisture. He filled her with a second finger as she stroked him, her juices seeping over his fingers and his palm as he caressed her pussy, as her hand was full with his erection. She brought her other hand to toy with his nipple as he did the same for her, their hands filled with each other's most sensitive places, their eyes roaming over each other's bodies as they stroked each other, and Denise came around Mark's fingers, her body collapsing on to his in the seat.
She curled up on his chest, satiated, and returned to her business with his cock, concentrating on every stroke, until he let himself go in her hands and his semen dripped over his chest and hers. Denise kissed Mark, or Mark kissed Denise, and they let themselves lay there, nearly naked and exposed in the passenger seat of his car. "Am I dreaming?" he mused once more.
How nice, Denise thought, and I will tell Jack, and it will excite him. Or, well, whatever happens, but for now... She leaned her head on Mark's shoulder as he stroked her hair, relaxed, and watched as the East Middletown cops drove off into the night. "What a hell-raising little agitator you are," he said, and grinned, and kissed her head.