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 ï>¿Stephanie Unmasked by William_Wood

   Stephanie Unmasked Pt.  04

   The masquerade ends in unthinkable exposure for prudish girl.

   The party seemed to be rowdier than when she had left it.  More than
half the guests were dancing now, including various rather intimate looking
pairs, and circles of showy women, shadowed by a few lads trying to get
involved (and mostly succeeding).  Neither the steps nor the accompanying
music resembled something as elegant as ballroom anymore.  Stephanie Vice
spotted Mikayla dancing with two men.  Well, 'dancing' was being generous.
She was basically a piece of near-nude meat caught in a tuxedo sandwich,
and seemed happy enough to be there.

   A closer look at her made Stephanie's jaw drop.  She was slowly grinding
her ass onto the front of one man's pants, who held her there by her hips.
The other man stood close, facing her, his arms reaching past her shoulders
to lock onto his buddy's.  Mikayla was holding onto his waist, but as Steph
watched, she brushed a hand over the front of his pants.  It wasn't exactly
subtle, but apparently nobody, security or otherwise, was of a mind to
interfere.  Stephanie watched a little longer, observing how she stroked
him only ever so slowly, in time with her grinding against the man-post
behind her.

   "I suppose that's what you would call a cock tease," Stephanie said to
nobody in particular.  "I'll say it again for that woman.  Fearless!  But
where's her date?" She glanced about, and eventually spotted Jerome
Masterson's stunning white and gold getup in a quiet corner, surrounded by
a rather sober looking bunch who all seemed to want their slice of his
time. What kind of reasons they may have held for placing him in such high
esteem befogged her.  'Mysterious Leader'.  He may have denied his
worthiness of the title, but it held true enough from where Stephanie
stood. And her brief conversation with him earlier had done little to
alleviate her curiosity towards her benefactor.

   "He's not concerned about Mikayla's behaviour, though.  They really
aren't together.  Maybe, hopefully, she hasn't told him what we did."

   "Such a fine lady shouldn't be by herself, let alone talking with only
herself." It was a young man with a huge, infectious grin, and Steph found
herself returning his smile.  Like she could ever again be embarrassed by
something as trivial as holding a conversation with one's self!  The man
held up two full champagne flutes, and offered one to Stephanie.

   You've had quite enough to drink.  Time for a water!

   She opened her mouth to make an excuse, but the man stopped her with a
finger to her lips.  "Nor should she be without a drink in hand on such a
night.  Though if you're like me, you're thinking it's time to slow down?"

   "I was going to say that."

   "Well let's make a pact, you and I.  One more, and only one.  Last
chance to savour the taste of free Dom PÃ(C)rignon."

   Stephanie considered he might be trouble to say no to, but his charm was
compelling enough that she took the glass.  Though, she told herself that
she need not drink it all.

   "To charity," he proposed cheerfully.  Stephanie winced at hearing the
word, but they shared a chink and she took a small sip.

   She listened to the man's slightly impaired but largely emboldened
capacity for conversation for a while.  He was there with his girlfriend,
but he had grown weary of the dance floor since she had apparently taken to
showing him the shoulder in favour of dancing with other ladies.  Stephanie
figured he just singled her out in the hope that his wife might glance
their way and know a little jealousy.  In any case he was harmless enough,
though she had no real interest in him, available or not.

   But other men and women came by and joined in the chat, and she found
herself wandering to other groups and meeting a lot of people. 
Occasionally she stole a glance towards the Jerome Masterson fan club. 
Just once, her heart pressed against the top of her ribcage when she found
him staring right back at her.  His ivory-look enamel mask failed to
disguise the piercing hold of his large dark eyes, and Stephanie had a
squirmish thought that the fabric of her dress had turned completely
transparent under his gaze.  Perhaps through her skin and bone as well, and
right into the mischievous sexual being that was clawing its way out of her
tonight.

   She retained enough composure to look away immediately.  Well, not so
immediately that her awkwardness would be obvious.  She hoped.

   At some point she noticed Brad and Mia mingling amongst the various
little groups.  No more energetic dancing from those two, and she awarded
herself zero points for hazarding a guess as to why.  By her reckoning,
they had been absent for a very long time.

   It was 11:00pm when the music slowly faded to next to nothing, and there
came an announcement.  "Ladies and Gentleman, your attention please.  The
time has finally come, for the much anticipated charity auction!" There
were enthusiastic cheers from most of the room, though some women quieted,
suddenly looking rather nervous.  Stephanie, naturally, fell into the
latter category.

   A display stand was set up on the first landing of the elaborate
staircase that was the main feature of the Auream Grand's Great Hall and
ballroom, and an unfamiliar girl in a black skirt and jacket was arranging
stacks of large canvases upon it.  When she was done, there were two stacks
facing the crowd, with a blank sheet of paper at the front of each, so that
those below couldn't see the first images yet.

   "Please, allow me to explain how this will work," the man, whose voice
had served as announcer for the evening, meandered down to the landing with
a wireless microphone.  "At the commencement of each lot, my beautiful
assistant Lisa will reveal the full size canvas depicting the lovely lady
whose glamorous portfolio you are bidding on.  Each lot includes the prints
and portfolio only.  It doesn't entitle you to any special time with the
subject, ok, fellas?"

   "Unless I buy my wife's one myself!" Someone in the crowd blurted it
out, and Stephanie cringed.  He wasn't particularly witty; she had already
heard people talking about how they planned to win their own lots.  But in
the spirit of the cause, they would see to it that others didn't get out of
it cheaply.

   "Yes, quite," the MC-made-auctioneer agreed shortly.  "Now, as you see
on the stand, each lot has a second canvas, which we hope will serve as an
incentive for your generosity tonight.  More specifically, Lisa will only
reveal it once the bidding reaches five thousand dollars.  Think of it as
meeting a reserve in order to unlock a bonus item.  For any lots that do
not reach this reserve, the bonus canvas will instead be destroyed.  A
regrettable waste, I'm so very sorry to say."

   There were many excited murmurs from amongst the crowd.

   They can't mean - surely not.  Nope.

   The woman introduced as Lisa tore the piece of paper obscuring the first
canvas, marking the start of the first auction.  The subject was a
beautiful red-head, tall and leggy, with pale skin suitably marred by
countless, cute little freckles.  She was wearing a long gown of burnt
blood-orange.  Natalie had somehow brought out extraordinary brightness in
her blue eyes that gazed on from behind a simple, but functional mask.  The
pose was playful, with her stiletto's removed and hanging over one hand,
and the other dangerously close to tipping a near-empty champagne flute. 
Her body language suggested an intention to retire to the nearby armchair.

   The bidding started at $100 and quickly went up to $1,000, courtesy of
the woman's husband.  She hadn't spoken to them, but that fiery hair and
tall, elegant stature had caught her eye on a few occasions.  Like many
others with cheaper masks, she was no longer wearing hers.  She was smiling
nervously while twirling a ginger lock in her fingers.

   The bidding continued, with the $5,000 bid coming immediately after
$4,000.  The bidder was not the woman's husband, but that did not stop (or
perhaps it encouraged) an enthusiastic cheer from those gathered.

   Stephanie did not cheer.  She had a bad feeling about this.

   "Thank you sir, for bringing us up to the reserve for the bonus.  Lisa,
you may now reveal the subject's second canvas."

   His assistant smiled broadly, and tore the paper away.  There were gasps
among the audience, and then, wolf whistles and applause.

   Fuck.  They did.  They really, actually did!

   In the second canvas, the 'subject' had certainly made herself
comfortable on the armchair.  She appeared to be sleeping, still holding
the champagne flute, although it hung upside down over the side of the
chair from her loosely dangling arm.  However, those details were largely
out of focus.  The true subject of the photo was most definitely her legs,
and...  in between them.

   She sat towards the edge of the large armchair, and was leaning back
into a corner of the support.  One of her legs hung over the upholstered
arm, while the other was stretched out straight, creating a daring spread
that Natalie had exploited in high resolution.  The photo was taken level
with the cushion upon which the girl sat, pointed straight between her
thighs.  Her long gown should have covered that part of her, but she was
holding the hem up against her belly, deliberately exposing herself.

   Stephanie admired all the fine details in terrible awe.  This woman wore
panties.  Not a g-string - panties.  But they were the nude coloured,
seamless type - the sort that would have been perfect for Stephanie if she
had only thought to buy such a thing ahead of time.  Panties or no, the
view was highly erotic.  The pure ivory of her thighs was a striking
contrast to the darker coloured dress, and it was clear that she retained
her natural allotment of pubic hair.

   I really am the only person classless enough to have got that removed,
aren't I?

   Aside from the clear indentation of a full bush into the ultra thin
nylon, the tips of long ginger strands escaped the edges of her panties and
stood out against her inner thighs.  They probably could have been tucked
behind the material easily enough, but Stephanie wondered if Natalie had
asked the girl for the precise opposite arrangement for the sake of her
controversial shot.

   But perhaps the most embarrassing part was the dime-sized spot of
moisture that turned the almost nude coloured material dark and
transparent. Right in front of the woman's vagina.

   "This lot is entitled, 'Sweet Dreams'.  Bidding will now resume, with
the gentleman at the back currently leading with five thousand."

   The bids continued for 'Sweet Dreams', although they were trickling in
slowly at increments of just $100.  Stephanie watched the girl - the
redhead, wondering how she was coping with such embarrassment.  She seemed
ok all considered, repeatedly glancing at the photo, giggling and burying
her face in her husband's sleeve.  Each time a man in the room upped the
bid she would spin and gawk at the culprit.  She didn't seem upset with
them; her expression was more one of wonder for these strangers who found
her appealing enough to offer up such sums of cash.

   The lot was 'going twice at $7,900' to the man who first pushed it to
$5,000, before the redhead's husband finally swooped in with a panicked bid
of $8,000, securing him the win.  Even Stephanie could tell he was at the
limit of what he was prepared to spend, and that the real reason for his
final bid was the firm grip his wife had under his crotch.

   He was still wincing in pain as he tried to smile for the applause
following his victory.  Stephanie bit her lip, for the couple sparked her
imagination.  Would the girl show some appreciation to her rescuer later on
tonight?  Perhaps not, she guessed.  The redhead was yet to relinquish her
cruel grip on him, and he seemed to just take the punishment with a
tortured sneer, but didn't try to break free.  Perhaps this kind of
treatment was common in their bedroom?  Stephanie silently wished the man a
long and uncomfortable night of swollen, achy testicles.  He obviously had
money, so he shouldn't have even been toying with the idea of conceding
that photo to another man's collection.

   Jeez, who am I?  Where did I even come up with that!

   Lot #2 featured the giggly friend of the girl in the yellow dress from
the bathroom.  Stephanie felt concerned for her, being a bit overweight,
and subjected to something like this.  But, Natalie had captured her
looking joyous in one of her torrents of laughter, and, perhaps helped by a
seductive glimpse of cleavage, bidding soon reached $5,000.  At that point
it became apparent to Steph that each sale ought to fetch at least that
much.

   The second photograph was as shocking as the redhead's, with the girl
perched on the back of the barstool, her medium length skirts pulled out so
that she was mostly sitting on her bare thighs.  Naturally, the photo was
taken from behind and beneath.  Instead of trying to disguise the girl's
big butt, Natalie had emphasised it by forcing it to spill over the edge of
the stool.  Her ass looked huge in the photo frame!  The men loved it, and
the final result didn't fall all that far short of the redhead's.

   Next up was 'yellow dress', and Stephanie was rather relieved, but also
slightly disappointed, that the naughtier photo of her squatting right over
the lens had not been the one selected for the bonus canvas.  Instead, it
was a more candid looking upskirt shot.  The girl wore a thong, and her
buttocks were firm and nicely rounded, partially obscured by the fall of
her dress about her legs.  And then Stephanie made a connection - she had
seen those girls fairly late in the evening, and it seemed reasonable that
they were auctioning these in the reverse order from the time at which they
were taken.  As if they were printed out in a big stack, and now the
auctioneer was simply working through that stack.

   Which makes me lucky last.

   Stephanie dared enough to hope that her contribution had been finalised
hours ago, and lay at the bottom of the stack.  There was no way they would
have printed out one of those photos in the large size.  They shouldn't
have even had time.  And, Natalie had promised that she would just include
them as loose sheets at the back of her completed booklet.  However,
Natalie had never mentioned that the whole party would get to see the more
risque shots she had been asked to take.

   The auctions went on, always fetching at least $5,000, so that everyone
could hoot and holler when the upskirt photos were revealed.  Stephanie too
was drawn to the erotica strongly enough, but her anxiety for her coming
turn stopped her from sharing in the excitement of what seemed like every
other person, even the women being exploited.

   Each of the 'money shots' were bold, and sexy.  Some focused on a girl's
buttocks, some, like with the redhead's, captured the crotch area.  And
others were the classic upskirt view, the camera positioned between the
feet.  Many were especially rude in some way or another, but all of them
were glamorous.

   A few others joined the redhead with damp stamps on their panties, but
these stopped after a while (as they got to photos taken earlier in the
night, Stephanie considered).  Some had pubic hair partially escaping the
narrow material of their thongs, but despite her earlier self-chastising,
Stephanie realised that the majority of these women seemed well groomed
down there.

   When they got to Mikayla's turn, Stephanie was again taken aback by how
brazen the European beauty was, how completely uninhibited.  The first
photo, as might have been expected, had been sure to capture the golden
jewelled snakes that served as her only covering above the waist (except
for the gorgeous mask Jerome Masterson had gifted to her).  Natalie could
have posed Mikayla so that her nipples were covered for the shot, but
apparently she had instead sought to show them off as much as possible.

   The bids got up to $5,000 in short order, and the second canvas was
unveiled.  Mikayla had been standing tall on her long legs and stilettos,
but bending over to lean on the little cocktail table.  Stephanie recalled
that Natalie had told her about this, and she hadn't been exaggerating when
she said it was hot.  Her short skirt might have been enough to cover her
ass from the back, but naturally the shot was taken from a little
underneath.

   Mikayla was a model, and her bottom was nothing too outrageous to
behold. However, she seemed very relaxed for the shot, and the black string
of her thong was clearly visible between well defined cheeks.  And a string
was all it was - so barely there that the soft, wrinkled tissue surrounding
her anus was captured in a display that while frightfully lewd, conveyed a
certain innocence.  Mikayla probably hadn't realised that the photo
included a peek of that part of her.  It didn't really seem fair to
Stephanie since there was nothing amiss about the way she wore the
g-string. If it had been her, she was sure she would have been completely
ignorant.

   But we've already established I'm completely ignorant about g-strings.
Or I wouldn't have turned up to this ball a pantyless slut!

   That lot settled at $14,750, a donation that impressed everybody in the
crowd.  Stephanie noticed that although Jerome Masterson once again stood
by Mikayla's side as her date, he had not bid on her photos personally. 
Had he even bid on any lots, in that case?

   Soon after that, Mia materialised by Stephanie's side.  She seemed to
have a talent for materialisation.  She too no longer had her mask on, and
she smiled at Stephanie, who nervously returned one as best as she could.

   Does she know?  I bet she knows.  She knows I was watching them, and
she's going to call me on it.

   "Shit, that asshole!" Mia whisper-yelled harshly.  She looked
uncomfortable, squirming with her legs together, and looking down the front
of her dress with concern.

   Did Brad make good on his threat?  Was his...  stuff...  coming out of
her, and causing her problems?

   With that thought, Stephanie felt a little more powerful.  Now Mia was
the one embarrassed by the situation under her dress, and Stephanie was the
one who saw right through her.  It hadn't helped the poor girl that her
turn in the auction had been up there among the most indecent.  Perhaps
inspired by her tango performance at the start of the night, the bids went
up higher than most.  The photo under her dress had been the classic kind
of upskirt shot, but zoomed in close, creating an emphasis on an obnoxious
bulge against her skimpy red g-string.  Stephanie had of course spied on
the woman with her underwear removed, and she appreciated how her wild
pubic hair, along with the thick lips of her labia, would create such a
look.

   Though, she doesn't even have that g-string on anymore, does she?

   There had been plenty of appreciation around the room, with a few 'what
an ass!' comments within Stephanie's ear shot.  She too admired Mia's
toned, golden bubble-butt, and the bidding had closed well over ten
thousand, though not quite reaching the record set by Mikayla's lot.  She
hadn't had eyes on Brad, but as far as she could tell he had not even tried
to compete in the bidding war to safeguard his lover's honour.

   But it was Mia's discomfort in this moment that emboldened Stephanie. 
It was probably the first time she had held any advantage all night, and
she was taken by a sudden whim to exercise that power.

   She placed her hand on Mia's arm, earning the girl's attention.  Her
dark features were as wild as they were lovely.  And, following her
comment, she really did look kind of mad!

   "Mia, are you ok?  Did...  did Brad make good on his threat?"

   There was a hesitation, and then Mia's eyes widened with recognition,
and she put her hand over Stephanies and gave it a squeeze.

   "Oh my God, it was you!"

   "I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have, but I just came by and you know the door
was open, and-"

   "It's ok," Mia cut her off.  "Honestly, I was pretty fucking nervous
that someone had been watching, and it was worse that they just ran off. 
But I'm actually glad it was you, better than some random creepy guy.  But
you know-"

   Mia let her hand go, only to touch her palm to Stephanie's face, forcing
her to look straight into her big, brown eyes.  "It was you who inspired
him in the first place.  If you had made yourself known in there, he
probably would have invited you to come in and watch properly." Mia slowly
let her hand wander down Stephanie's neck, then over the front of her
dress, briefly caressing a breast on it's way down.  Stephanie blinked, but
did not move.  Mia's fingers made her again acutely aware of the clear
impression her nipples made into the soft, thin silk.  An impression surely
made upon every person in attendance at some point or other this night.

   So much for my position of power.  I just handed it straight back to
her!

   "And you know, I love him, but," Mia's eyes lit up as she squeezed
Steph's hip.  "I'm also one to share my things.  Were you at least touching
yourself?"

   "No!"

   Mia giggled.  "Oh?  That's a pity.  I bet you wanted to.  A girl doesn't
go to a party commando unless she plans on being naughty about it. 
Masturbating under your dress with no panties.  Brad would have loved to
watch that.  I would have loved to watch that."

   Stephanie was stunned, and had no words in response.  Had this woman any
shame at all?

   The wandering hand progressed to her leg, and cut across to her inner
thigh, successfully navigating the split in her dress.  Then, she turned
her hand, and started to stroke upwards.  Stephanie looked about, and
noticed a few men and women casually watching them, eyes shining with
interest from behind their masks.

   And at that moment, a waiter came by carrying a tray of empty flutes,
and Stephanie grabbed a napkin from it.  "Here you go," she said, offering
it to Mia, partly in consideration of the young woman's own little problem,
but mostly as a friendly way to put a halt to the current proceedings.  Mia
gratefully accepted the offering, and, with about as much discretion as she
could manage, reached into the split of her own dress to attend to things.
As far as subtlety went, she failed.  Their small audience still observed
silently, and she must have known it.  For all her bravado, Mia was now
bright red across her cheeks, and she no longer had a mask on to hide it.

   Well, good.  If she's not embarrassed by that, she's not human.

   "And, ladies and gentleman, this brings us to the last lot of the night.
Lisa, would you please do the honours?"

   The auctioneer's assistant revealed the portrait, and Stephanie was
presented with her own image on a 20" by 30" canvas.  She suddenly felt
weightless in her stomach, and it was like all the alcohol in there was
absorbed into her body in an instant, making her head feel empty and sick.

   It's me.  This is really happening.  They are going to bid on my photo
now, which is somehow going to sell for $5,000.  But everyone will be
disappointed, because...

   It had come up faster than she expected.  Obviously, not every woman in
attendance had found her way to Natalie's studio.  Steph had done the math
on this earlier.  Natalie would have had to have spent just a few minutes
on each girl if she were to get through them all, but she had instead taken
her time to make each subject feel special.  That, and, 50 or so lots would
have taken a long time to auction off.

   But there was something wrong with this last lot, that being the absence
of a second canvas (to Stephanie's profound relief).  There came some
general murmuring around the room, and she figured others were making the
same connection.

   Stagnant Stephanie.

   She felt panic starting to creep in, as if she were being attacked.  She
found it incredible that so many girls had participated in the 'money shot'
effort for the fundraising.  But surely a woman didn't need to be very far
along the prudish scale to refuse such an untoward proposition!  Why was
she the only one who hadn't participated?

   Except, I did in the end.

   "Figures," Mia murmured beside her.  "In your position, I wouldn't have
agreed to the upskirt snap either.  And I'm still pretty shocked that
they've shown them off to everyone, like this!

   Thank you, Mia.  Validation is sweet.

   Despite the absence of the second canvas, the bidding quickly reached
one thousand and was steadily increasing.  Stephanie forced herself to
swallow her apprehension enough to take a closer look at the work on
display.

   It was one of the last photos taken during her first session with
Natalie.  She had been leaning her butt against the back of the arm chair,
side-on to the camera, the split side of her gown accommodating a generous
peek at a creamy thigh.  Her hands were pulling the violet silk away from
her chest, and a large amount of a supple breast was exposed, her areola
just barely still obscured from the scrutinising camera lens.  The polished
emerald surface of her mask sparkled, with the long, crooked beak turned up
towards the ceiling.

   'Little witch'.  It's fitting, alright.  And that's what they should
name it.

   The bidding exceeded three thousand, and Stephanie felt her mouth losing
moisture while ants scurried all over her skin.  They knew there wasn't
going to be a 'bonus', but they were still bidding higher than she valued
herself.  And that made her feel uncomfortable and guilty.

   At least, no bonus that they know about.  Yet.

   At this point she held no doubt that the nude photos would indeed be
included as a few loose pages added to her portfolio.  Perfectly convenient
for someone to frame for their man cave, photocopy and circulate to their
friends, scan and upload to the internet...

   Bidding did appear to be slowing down, when someone appeared in the
vicinity of the auctioneer.  A girl in a black cocktail dress.  Natalie. 
And, she was holding another large canvas.  She handed it to Lisa, and
after a brief, private conversation with the auctioneer, she hurried off.
She hadn't searched Stephanie out in the crowd, and the guilty look on the
girl's face filled her with trepidation.

   "Wonderful bidders, my gracious, generous patrons, it seems there is a
hmmm, eleventh hour development with this final lot.  We have a bonus
canvas for you after all.  Apparently, this particular young lady had been
the very first to make her contribution to the cause, but hadn't yet
enjoyed enough of the cellar's offerings to entertain all of our
photographer's requests." There were a few chuckles and giggles, and people
nodded their understanding for how Stephanie might have felt some three or
four hours ago.

   No.  No way.  No, no, no fucking way.

   "However, I'm pleased to say, our subject came around in the end, in
fact the ink on this one was barely dry in time for the sale.  It is
entitled, 'Blossoming Butterfly'.  Ladies and Gentleman, I believe we were
at $3,400, courtesy of the gentleman in the crimson tuxedo."

   Mia enquired softly by her side, "Stephanie?  Did you really?" Stephanie
bit her lip and nodded.  She tried to speak, but her tongue was now a
stiff, dry biscuit.  She swallowed, and tried again.

   "Right at the end.  I hid in the studio when I ran from Brad, and, so
that I could stay there for a few minutes-"

   "-What on earth?  It's not like Brad even chased you.  He just shut the
door and, you know...  he had more pressing needs than finding the culprit.
And that photographer - she's on a commission right?  A percent or two of
the auction sales, I heard someone say."

   Stephanie barely heard Mia's comments; they weren't helpful anyway.  The
photos had been taken for one reason, and one reason only.  Because
Stephanie had wanted it.  She had wanted Natalie to see her, along with
whichever gentleman purchased the photos.  That was the deal, or so she had
been led to believe.

   The bidding reached $4,750.  Another waiter came by, and there was one
full champagne flute on his tray.  Stephanie reached for it and virtually
poured it down her throat, surprising herself that she could so quickly
drink something that was so cold, carbonated and alcoholic at the same
time. Her head spun like a gravitron, though that may have been the case
even before the sudden influx of more poison.

   The waiter eyed her with concern, and she slammed her glass back onto
the tray.  "Please," she said to him.  "My name is Stephanie Vice, could
you be so kind as to run and collect my belongings from the cloak room?"

   "Ah, yes, certainly, Miss Vice.  You seem a little distressed, might I
ask what I'll be looking for?"

   "Just an envelope with my room keys in it.  And yes, I am in a hurry. 
Please, as fast as you can.  Kind sir!" The waiter nodded, and, with no
liquids left on his tray, cut an efficient path zig-zagging through the
crowd.

   "You're going to do a runner?"

   Stephanie nodded without facing Mia.  Her brain was being ravaged inside
a washing machine, and she didn't want to look at anybody in this ballroom
anymore.  Dizzy, she leaned her forehead into the back of her hand, which
felt quite cool by comparison.  She could only imagine how she must look;
even her trusty mask wouldn't contain her emotion this time.

   "It's ok sweetie, everyone else had their turn, you'll be fine." It was
a male voice somewhere near her, but she didn't even search out the face to
offer him the scowl of death she felt within.

   "And thank you sir, that makes $5,000, so I'm happy to say the reserve
for the bonus item has been met.  Lisa, one last time, if you would
please!"

   Stephanie believed that she didn't want to look, but ultimately she
couldn't stop herself from lifting her eyes in time to witness the
unveiling.  Lisa had a dumb bimbo smile on her stupid face as she tore at
the paper covering, like she was presenting something as inoffensive as a
child's finger painting.

   The canvas was revealed.  And then.  Complete silence.

   But after that, an almighty cheer rose up amongst the crowd.  Someone
took her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly.  "I guess we're even, then."

   Stephanie returned Mia's squeeze, and dared to behold the spectacle at
the podium.

   There it was - her upskirt photo, and not just any.  It was surely the
very last one Natalie had taken, the one where Stephanie had done the
naughtiest pose, with her legs spread like a porn star.  A moment of such
unprecedented stupidity that she could scarcely believe it was really her.
A moment inspired by a sudden, uncharacteristic desire to advance her
participation in matters of sensuality.  Except that fate had captured her
in her brief lapse, and now punished her by sharing it with the world.

   The main subject of the photo was a clear view of her ass, spread wide
by her posture and framing her bare-naked vulva.  The silliest thing she
realised as she stared in abject horror, was that she didn't even recognise
her own genitals.  Not really, not like this.

   Her lips were delicate, pinkish-brown flanges that curled back over her
labia majora, exposing the soft flesh of her vaginal walls which were a
well of creamy girl-cum.

   "A butterfly pussy," she heard someone nearby murmur.  "And a real nice
one too."

   I thought we all just had vaginas.  Since when did men feel it necessary
to create classifications for them!

   The bidding resumed, though Stephanie barely heard them.  They seemed to
be taking their time, drawing out the worst moment of her life for as long
as possible.

   Like every other person in the room, Stephanie continued to stare at the
pornography.  The beauty technician had certainly done her job the previous
day, with not a single stray hair or millimetre of stubble for her private
areas to hide amongst.  Her labia really did look like butterfly wings,
tapered at her vagina and flaring out in line with her little clitoral
hood, which might have been the creature's soft little head.  Her lips
looked kind of wrinkly towards the edges.  She hadn't had any idea.  Had
never desired to take such a close look.

   "Are you still that wet, little witch?" Brad had at some point crept up
behind her, and his lewd remark was met with an immediate smack in the
chest from Mia.  But Stephanie found herself nodding slightly.  Her
capacity for reason had evaporated along with her dignity, and all she
could do was be honest.  To Brad and Mia.  To everyone here.  To herself.
She was Stephanie Vice, 22 years old, and she was ready to share her
precious virgin body - but she had only wanted it to be with the right
person.  As for Brad's comment - it was bad enough that the little puddle
of her concentrated juices were basically centred in the photo, but the
same thing that she had cleaned up in the bathroom had happened again as
well.

   As a lady walks, her thighs rub together.  Without underwear, things
like this can happen.  Her drippings can get worked into a lather and then
stick between her bits, and in this case that obscene silken thread was
back, adjoining one of her 'butterfly wings', onto a large smear on her
inner thigh.  It didn't really mean anything, other than that she had been
getting rather worked up down there from the untoward incidents leading up
to her second visit to that damn studio.

   But they love it.

   Bidding had already exceeded ten grand, and didn't seem to be letting
up. There were many interested parties for the grand finale.  Where was
that waiter with her room keys?  There was no need for her to stay and find
out which among these perverts was the least satisfied with having such a
good gawk now; these men who felt like they needed to revisit her disgrace
again when they got home, as often as they wanted and for as long as they
lived.

   Brad started up again, undeterred by Mia's tendency to respond instantly
with violence to any comments she deemed inappropriate.  "I have mixed
feelings about this, little witch.  I liked being about the only person to
figure out your cheeky secret.  Now everyone knows, even if they didn't
bother to meet you.  Doesn't seem fair.  But on the other hand, now I don't
have to imagine anymore.  I mean damn, you even got a cute little butt-hole
too!"

   Mia's blows rained down upon him again, this time targeting his groin.
"You're so gross!  And mean!"

   "What?  Her taint looks really sweet, and I wanna taste it.  I bet she
tastes better than you, slut."

   There was the sound of Brad suffering through some kind of agony, but
Stephanie didn't turn to look at the quarrelsome, if passionate pair of
lovers.  She could no longer care less what they said or did.  Her eyes
dragged up the image to her 'cute little butt-hole', as Brad had called it.
Another part of her that she hadn't felt a need to study before.  She had
spread her legs widely enough that her ass cheeks opened around it.  A
tightly sealed pit surrounded by pinkish-brown wrinkles.  It was her
dirtiest, most private part.  And now, exposed for all the world to have an
opinion on.

   Ok, I'm ready to check out.  Of life.

   "Thirty thousand," a voice called from the back of the room.  Stephanie
blinked, realising that someone had just doubled the bid.  Someone really
wanted this picture, and whatever other snaps awaited within the pages of
her portfolio.  They wanted it badly enough to part with an obscene sum of
money!  Stephanie shook her head to try and clear her nausea, and gazed
over towards their high roller.  And her mouth dropped.

   It was Jerome Masterson himself.  Her boss whom she revered as
Mysterious Leader, and the founder of the very charity he was preparing to
donate to.  The one person Stephanie had been confident would not be
bidding on her prize.  In fact, she reflected that he had not participated
in making a single bid until now.  Why now?  Why her?

   The auctioneer was very excited about the latest bid.  However, there
was otherwise general silence.  Who would want to compete with Jerome
Masterson in the first place, and especially after he had just doubled the
price of the highest previous lot?  That racy prize had featured Mikayla -
his own date that evening - and every person in the room would have noticed
that he had abstained from bidding on even that one.

   "Thirty thousand going once...  going twice!"

   And then, it dawned on Stephanie, the real reason for Jerome's
participation.  It wasn't that he was a pervert, or that he sought some
kind of extra control over her as her boss.  This was a mercy.  30,000
mercies.  By bringing the auction to a swift close, the picture would
finally be taken away.  Stephanie's humiliation would endure as a life-long
scar, but at least this present, excruciating moment would at last fizzle
out.

   "Thirty thousand going three times.  And?  Sold!  To our gracious host
and generous benefactor, thank you so very much sir!" Lisa stacked the
first canvas over the diabolical second, and added them to the stack to be
distributed among the auction winners.

   Stephanie looked back over at Jerome Masterson, but couldn't read his
expressionless, masked face.  She swallowed, and bit her lip.  She couldn't
just let this slide.  He had just committed to $30,000, just out of pity
for her!  She had to do something.  Say something.  Anything!

   And so, Stephanie Vice, the once prudish and shy clerk, plucked the
courage to worm her way through the crowd to where her Mysterious Leader
stood.  Mikayla had vacated from his side.  She didn't know where the woman
whom she had shared her first passionate kiss with was, but she was kind of
glad.  It was bad enough speaking to anybody she knew at this point.  And
just where was that waiter?!

   "Mr Masterson-"

   "-Jerome," he corrected her for the second time with a calm, kind voice.
She looked up at his face, the white and gold enamel moulded perfectly over
his skin.  She let the intimidating aura of his devilishly curved goat
horns wash over her, and she shuddered.  But, his brown eyes were soft and
human, and were focused solely on her now.  Those eyes that, only moments
ago, had been lingering over that most damning canvas.  Only a few glimpses
of his flesh were left bare by his suit - his hands, his neck, up to his
chin and around his mouth.  His skin was dark, yet glowed with the power
that she allowed him over her.

   Despite her present personal turmoil, Stephanie almost lost her breath
as she again took in this beautiful man up close.  Her humiliation had not
diminished her arousal - if anything, it had made it worse.  If her need
earlier in the night was a mild tickle that she had tolerated, it was now a
desperate itch that would be scratched one way or another the moment she
was back in her room.  Her vagina was radiating heat enough to combat the
ballroom's substantial air conditioning, and from the slickness she felt
between her thighs, she had no doubt that a few more of those obnoxious
'threads' had formed.

   "I don't know, I mean.  What am I supposed to-"

   "It's ok, you don't have to say anything.  It was my fault for allowing
this to happen.  Don't let the establishment of my fund fool you; I'm no
saint, as you can tell."

   "Umm, well, thank you, anyway.  First the mask and then the room, and
now, this?  It's too much, actually.  I'm overwhelmed.  You've overwhelmed
me tonight, Mr Jerome Masterson.  And there's nothing I can do to repay
you."

   "That's not true.  I purchased that last lot because I wanted it.  I
have a few pieces of art in my home, but nothing quite so erotic.  I hope
you won't think this affects the way I perceive you, Miss Vice.  But you
are very lovely, and I wanted the artwork for myself.  I'm going to rename
it though, may God forgive the sacrilege.  But 'Blossoming Butterfly' just
reeks of crass.  I think it should be, 'Stephanie Unmasked'.  Yes.  I'll
have a little plaque done up to accompany the two frames."

   Stephanie swallowed.  It was a good name, but she refused to admit it to
him.  "Is that so?  I guess it would be a lot for me to ask you to tear it
up the moment they hand it over." She spoke with something that bordered on
sarcasm, but he responded only with a crooked smile.  Not good enough.  She
wanted to leave a proper impression to accompany his prize, and had to
snuff out the petulance.  "Jerome?  If you...  if you think I'm beautiful,
why not ask to see my face?  I can tell you now, all of the pictures in my
'portfolio' have my mask on.  It has been my lifeline tonight, to tell the
truth.  But, I could take it off now.  You know, for my dashing white
knight."

   Oh God.  Too much?

   "Not necessary, Miss Vice.  It seems we've attracted quite the audience,
and I think you might appreciate your anonymity a little longer.  Perhaps
I'll see your face properly some other time?"

   "Miss Vice?" It was the waiter, finally returned.  "I do apologise for
the delay.  Someone had tucked the envelope into another person's jacket
for safe keeping, and I had to track them down to get to the bottom of it."

   He handed her the thin package, bowed, and left.  Stephanie bit her lip,
as she had many times tonight.  Usually right before she did something
stupid and against the grain of expectations that was the established,
'stagnant' Stephanie Vice.

   That's right, I have two keys now.

   She had left hers in the hotel room, and had acquired the spares from
reception.  There were three adults booked in her suite, so the hotel had
prepared as many key cards.

   Stephanie opened the envelope, and took a slice of plastic from it.

   Time to do something stupid!

   "Perhaps, Jerome, you would like to see me...  'unmasked' sooner than
later?  I'll never be dolled up this well again, I assure you." She
stretched her arm out to him, offering the spare key to her room.  She was
sure he wouldn't take it, and that all she would accomplish was to dig her
great old hole even deeper.

   He wants pictures of your vagina for his art collection, but he doesn't
want to know you.  You're just an employee, a lowly clerk.  What do you
hope to achieve with this, the dumbest stunt you've pulled all night?

   But Jerome smiled, took the card from her gently, and added it to his
jacket pocket.  His skin was refreshingly cool compared to her own mess of
burning flesh, and she resisted the urge to grab onto his hand.  "If you'll
excuse me, Miss Vice.  I have lots of farewells to attend to, and thanks to
you - I'm sure there will be many curious enquiries to quell."

   He didn't say anything about what she had just done.  Did he just take
the card to be polite?  Before too many people noticed what the pantyless
vixen was up to now?

   No more questions.  Time to go.

   Steph turned from Jerome, who was already engaged with the first
'curious enquiry', and headed for the grand stairs that were her path to
the elevators, and her room.  Every step of the way, the guests noticed
her, paused their conversations, and allowed her passage.  They treated her
to encouraging smiles, and many made comments regarding her 'beauty' or
'courage' or 'generosity'.  Stephanie didn't care for their paper-thin
gestures of support, and flatly ignored the throngs of people,
unapologetically leaving it all behind her.

   And as she climbed the great staircase, she was again all too aware of
the cool air caressing her naked, wet sex beneath her dress.  But this
time, every person at the party could see through her.  She could feel
dozens of eyes watching her bare back, and her thinly veiled posterior.  As
she treaded higher, above their heads, she wondered if they could see up
her dress.

   Though they needn't bother, not anymore.  There is no more mystery to
me. I might as well lift my skirt up to my waist right now.  Amuse them one
more time for my grand exit.

   Stephanie did no such thing of course, but she did in that moment catch
herself smiling.  What she could possibly have been pleased about, she
couldn't explain.  Only that the thrill she had felt for most of the night
was still following her as she departed the ballroom.  Everybody had 'seen'
her, and she had survived.  In the moment she had fancied that she would be
better off smited from existence, but now that her humiliation was
downgraded to a memory, albeit her most recent one?  Embarrassment was no
longer her prevailing emotion.  A certain need had become pressing indeed,
and she had best make good time back to her room, lest it start to drip all
the way down her leg.

   Steph rode the elevator alone, and took the time to again consider what
clothes she had brought along for such a brief trip.  For going to bed in.

   I might receive a late night visitor.

   Other than her travel clothes, and what had turned out to be painfully
redundant sets of knickers, she had only her dull flannelette pyjamas.  She
scrunched her nose at the thought of ever wearing those again.  Stephanie
Vice had changed in a way there would be no going back from.  She
understood this in a moment of clarity as she considered her sleep attire.
There was a mirror at the back of the lift, and she found herself admiring
the menacing look of her mask one last time.  The emerald enamel reflected
the bright light above; it exuded a radiance to match the excitement
boiling within her.  She traced that cruel looking beak with her finger,
and cracked a sly smile.

   "Stephanie Unmasked, eh?  I can work with that." Jerome Masterson had
come up with it, but he hadn't been referring to his fine gift to her a few
weeks prior.  But, certainly, many masks had been peeled from her mind and
body over the course of this adventure.  And that led her to a decision
regarding her bedroom attire.  The moment she was back in her suite,
Jerome's beautiful gift would serve as her sole article of covering.  Her
heart raced.

   What if he really comes!

   Steph's mind did a throwback to several hours ago, when she had been
interrupted while entertaining this very scenario, only then it has been
nothing more than an innocent fantasy.  It seemed like much longer ago, but
she hadn't forgotten how good it had felt to touch herself in the bathtub.
She blushed to recall how that indulgence had been to blame for her
accidental exposure to the hair and makeup artists.  In hindsight, that
private time of self discovery had set the precedence for the entire
evening.

   Perhaps I should go back there...

   Yes!  She would refill the bath, and continue where she had left off. 
No holding back this time.  She thought of Brad and Mia in that private
little office, and how audible Mia's complaints had been after she invited
him to fuck her hard over the desk.

   Maybe I'll be a little loud, too..

   She giggled to herself, and said aloud, "well, why not?  It's late, and
there won't be any interruptions this time."

   Except maybe one...

   *Ping!*

   The elevator doors opened, and Stephanie sauntered out and down the
hall. The fancy brass handle to her luxury suite was in sight.  "If he does
come?  Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She laughed, and called out her
final challenge.
   "Stagnant Stephanie indeed!"