She could tell that he knew that women liked to be rescued from that wall of lesser men. He was new to dancing. He only did the most basic, mixing the basic with inside turns and throwing in a hair comb arm toss occasionally. The was how his fingers touched her hand and body was like that of a doctor. There was an eerie precision and pointedness to the touch, like his aim and knowledge of anatomy was perfect. Yet there was also that lack of warmth and familiarity with touch that doctors exude. It made her feel conscious all over her body and sensitive to the pointed touches. A gentleman through and through, his eyes were glued to her face with a soft smile. He made her feel like a refined woman.

Being away from the lesser men, she felt safe to do what she had come here to do. The side of her overall had two buttons. Their function was to create space to allow her to slip in and then to fit more snugly. She popped the buttons. The result was that the front was freer to move around. The front was like a shield covering her boobs. With it being allowed to slide around, there was a risk that she might get exposed. She hungered to feel that risk to feel that shot of embarrassment from being exposed. She loved the danger singing in her blood like it could curl at any moment. She liked being right on the edge of possibly being exposed.

And when he lifted her arm, the strap on that shoulder rode higher and the front dropped on the other side, revealing a new part of her boob. The front slipped around with her movement exposing a little bit more left, top, and right boob. It was an ever-changing mosaic that allowed watchers to get glimpses of her boob and put from those snapshots together an idea of what her breasts looked like whole naked. Her boobs that the right amount of firmness and movability.

The song changed. From the shirt of the next man, she could already tell that he was a regular dancer. And he quickly spun her around to face away from him. He held her against his body while their hips bounced left and right to accentuate the beat. His face was leaning forward over her shoulder. She knew that his gaze was plunging deeply between her boobs. From his vantage point, the front was merely covering the nipples, and the whole sea of her mammaries was his to gaze at from the top. She loved that mix of being naked privately to one person while being in public. She reached her hands back to hold onto his neck and caress his hairline ravenously. She was playing the melted woman in his arms - a beautiful picture to seduce more men to dance with her.

His skill made the dance move a lot more and more unpredictably: fast spins, chest rolls, and slides. The moves came so fast at her that all she could do was instantly react if a hand was offered to her to grip or she received a little push to move a certain way. All that motion caused her front to move a lot more and more unpredictably. Her head started feeling hot because she could tell that a boob exposure could happen. The risk was still below the threshold where she would have excused herself and fled the dancefloor, but it was there.

Then he flicked one arm behind her back into what's called hammer lock. It's her forearm crossed behind her back. Then he flicked the other arm the same way behind her back. Her arms were double-crossed behind her back. He held her hands with his opposite hands to restrain them in place. With her hands locked behind her back, she could no longer tug on her front to put it back into place. If something happened, she could no longer cover herself with her hand. She was at his mercy.

He made her do a bootie roll. He made her lean forward into a bow. Her front fell forward. Her pulse tapped like anxious fingers drum on a surface. Her boobs changed shape as they were hanging forward, looking a bit more like the udder of a cow. The top still covered the nipples, but the gap of her front and tits hanging down was significant as she was leaning forward. He sensed that there was something that she liked about this pose. Yet he was a bit innocent and unsure of what was going on. The way how she bit her lip gave it away. So he stayed with her arms locked and led her into a head roll with her shoulder dipping deeply to the side. She could feel the fabric slide across her nipple. With high alert sensitivity, she focused on feeling the fabric on her nipple to sense if it was still there. And then when it was at the the very edge, he seemed to realize and quickly released her into a turn where she had a hand free to pull her front back into place.

"Slut!" she heard in a hushed feminine voice. Fire shot into her cheeks. But she looked around. She saw another woman with a dress that had a very high slit - a constant tease that her underwear might be revealed at any moment with a dramatic step. Rachel knew that she was in a place where that was how women competed. She needn't worry about the hater being jealous.

The middle dancers quickly embraced her. There were three ways to advance towards the DJ. You could be a really good dancer. You could be very attractive. You could be visibly very willing. Her boobs were beautiful. Her body was mousy. The rest, she made up by being willing. When the middle dancers dipped her, she let her body go to allow them to bend her around how they wanted. When they made her lean forward on top of them, she allowed them to do it. When a hand made her dug her head under, she dug under. When they forced her down to kneel or bent, she went as low as her body let her go. They loved a willing female body to toy around with. And in return, they made her do ever more advanced moves to catch the eyes of better dancers.

The way how her top moved precariously around her luscious breasts was a constant tease. Some of the dancers were really cautious to keep her safe and avoid twisting her body too much. This one dancer, who was a local instructor who tried a little too hard to show of his moves, didn't pay attention to her boobs. He was too busy trying to do unnecessarily complicated moves to impress people. His lead was rough. He'd grip her hand hard to jerk her into the shapes he wanted to put her in.

Then he started a complicated turn pattern sequence. The left halter slipped off her shoulder. She tried to pull it back, but he only squeezed her hands harder to show his displeasure at how little she was following. He wanted to do another turn that would tie their arms into a knot. He wouldn't let go of her hand to adjust. At first, the top stood up because the jeans fabric was pretty sturdy, but then the whole overall started slipping down her body on that side. With agony, she felt a quarter-inch slip. She tried to free her hand again only to be met by his growing ire at her indolence. The overall slipped another quarter inch on that side. She felt distressed as she realized that the overall was no more than a tube around her body with little to hold on except for the last halter.

With the next glance around the room, she could tell that she had an audience of a few people intensely staring at her, eager to see if her overall would slip the very last bit. They seemed spellbound to watch a tragedy unfold. She felt even more embarrassed. The instructor mistakenly thought that his moves were impressing the people and tried to add on. Part of her areola was showing. The very last shred of the top was covering the nipple. That's when her mind snapped - snapped into submissive space. She felt that tingle of being surrendered of allowing treatment to happen to her of losing her own will. It's a weird thing. You don't like being bossed around. And you don't like being bossed around. Suddenly, a little more bossing, and it feels good. It feels good to give in.

He noticed her front. He let go of one of her hands. She pulled the halter back up. However, her movements had become soft and surrendered. When the next guy pulled her into an embrace, she allowed herself to melt into it. When she felt his legs between her thighs from the close embrace, she allowed her pubic bone to grace the front of his thigh. It felt good. She rubbed herself on him. The dance had become sexual. He knew it. He allowed her to hug him tightly, breathe his smell from his neck, and gently grind her pubic bone on her hip. Then he pulled her off into some footwork patterns to not make it too obvious to everyone else. She looked at him with bedroom eyes, longing to be back in that warm spot on his body with the pleasure from her groin rubbing on him.

Her seduction by the testosterone and dance increased. As she was with the upper mid-level dancers, she allowed both halters to come off her bare shoulders. She no longer cared about keeping the front over her nipples. She let her body go to dance with the music. She let the men worry about keeping the front up. She let them catch glimpses of her nipples from the right angle. They were delicious, fully-shaped nipples. When her boob seemed to slip out, she took no action to cover up. She let the guys tug on her overall to keep her covered. She gave them the attitude that she was completely melted into the dance and no longer cared. "Let 'em flow freely" was her bodily expression in how she moved. And the guys knew that their honor would be destroyed if they allowed their partner to get exposed. Secure in that knowledge, she dared her boobies to pop out by ever more winding her body, rubbing on his body so that the overall would get pulled out of place. A dangerous game of creating more opportunities to get exposed while they struggled to keep her modest.

Erections were pressing at her when they were in close embrace or when they hugged her from behind in shadow position. "Cocks! Cocks all over!" was her slutty thought. She longed for Juan to dance with her, but she was stuck in the upper middle tier of dancers. The women near the DJ were too good at their game of dancing, dressing up with makeup, and teasing the guys. She felt a cock pressing between her butt cheeks. She looked at Juan slowly caressing down the body of a nubile woman, a slender black woman with the dress of a competitive samba dancer at the carnival, while he held her in a dip nearly on the floor.

Her partner held her in a close embrace now. His arm was around her back to pull her in tightly to keep her chest still while they bounced the hips side to side. She liked the pressure on the clit. Despite him blocking her back high, she let herself drop backwards. Her front stuck to his shirt. She slipped her overall down as she leaned back. She was fully exposed with both nipples - actually the whole breasts! He quickly threw his body on top of hers to over her. They almost tumbled over with so much weight forward. He didn't even have to look. The whole dance, she had acted with such abandon that he knew she wouldn't cover up. He covered her up with his body. His body clamped down in panic on hers. The shock and terror of a teenager being caught doing something bad shot into his bones. She let herself lean back to bare her boobs freely, relishing the moment of liberty and his submissive panic.

The move was so surprising. Nobody had noticed.

She knew that it was time to go home. She couldn't risk getting any more frisky. She was hot, horny, and bothered. She had gotten rid of the edge. She felt mollified and luscious. She was ready to be the furtive mouse again and do pointless research tasks in the basement.