Volume 8: Party Glitter
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The dress code for Mom's parties - and for many other social events in her circle, I'm told - demands exquisite elegance and at least some clothing. Mom does not approve of unadorned nudity at her soirees, although the interpretation of "clothing" can be very broad, to say the least. For example, the statuesque black woman adorned with matching nipple tassels, gloves and long boots was considered entirely acceptable. So was the white-blonde ice fairy with silver body paint and lacy wings held in place with white Letherz (TM) straps around shoulders, waist and thighs. The wings could actually make her fly, at least for a few moments - she would demonstrate several times during the party - thanks to some fairly elaborate and probably quite expensive VAPAware. A very debonair satyr entered the room and was immediately greeted by Mom. The thick curly hair which covers his Kind from waist to ankle was neatly coiffed and set about with jewels, offset by a formal white shirt, black jacket and bow tie, polished black shoes and a burgundy cummerbund demarcating the line between Norm skin and hairy coat. After welcoming the satyr effusively - probably an old friend, I imagined - Mom introduced him to a curvaceous woman with a mass of dark ringlets on her head and a patrician's nose, who was classically dressed in a white toga and smoking a long brown cigarillo. She eyed the satyr speculatively, clearly impressed by his urbane elegance - or perhaps the immense penis which could just be made out nestling in that dark fur. I thought I caught a glint in Mom's eye as she whispered a remark in the other woman's ear. The satyr affected not to notice, but extended a formal elbow and escorted the Greek goddess towards a couch in a far corner of the room. The goddess had arrived with a friend also adopting an Olympian appearance. He was also wearing a white toga and simple sandals, set off by a mane of white hair and a long beard. He had a deep and commanding voice which I could make out across the room, even over the buzz of conversation. Mom had introduced this god-like figure to a woman wearing a long coat of Reel Fur(TM) fastened with a single loop at the front - the mock fabric two shades lighter than her auburn hair - and teeteringly high and strappy shoes. It was abundantly clear that she wore nothing else underneath the coat, and the curve of her breasts and her smooth pubic mound were highlighted by tiny jewels which glowed with intermittent illumination. I could see that her intimate lighting was keyed to her emotional reactions, through the agency of some VAPAware, no doubt, judging by the way the lights flashed brightly just after the Olympiad whispered some exciting suggestion in her ear. Next to arrive was a man of medium height and build, with well-trimmed dark hair graying slightly at the temples. He was wearing a tailored dressing gown and smoking a pipe. I suspected he was of a Kind known as a Hefner - otherwise close to Norm, he would have insatiable sexual desires which made him very popular in certain circles, since he would be capable of energetic and prolonged sexual activity. I had heard gossip that said that Hefners were at risk of being driven to a frenzy of frustration unless they had sex every few hours. This seemed unlikely to be a problem here, since Mom's guest was surrounded by three clinging and giggling women, all dressed in the fashionably archaic style of bunnies - complete with floppy ears and fluffy tails - all held in place by the automation, it seemed, since they were otherwise naked. The room had been filling steadily was the guests made their appearance. Here were a pair of tiny women - evidently athletes and gymnasts - who looked as if they might be of Chinese origins. There, a trio of elegant women in long and stylish dresses, the skirts slit to the waist and deeply plunging necklines which barely concealed their pert tits. Yet another woman wore a short one-piece dress, strapless and cutaway both front and back - I could not imagine that the garment could possibly stay in place without the full-time intervention of the PA. Mingling amongst the guests were a number of bloggers and journalists - those who wrote in a journal every day for their own - and others - amusement. They were easily identified by the slightly distant appearance - preferring to observe rather then to interact - and their tendency of murmur observations into hidden recording machinery. The presence of these commentators is always a plus for a social event - while anyone could find out endless details through the PA, these professionals added insight, wit and editing skills for the consumption by a much wider readership. There was a sense of energy in the air, the electric buzz of conversation at risk of drowning out the music (managed of course by the automation) as the alcoholic drinks and other stimulants in circulation raised voices and reduced inhibitions. It was, truly, a wonderful party, with the guests circulating - greeting and chatting, flirting and petting - and all underlain by the subliminal motion of the automation, making sure glasses were filled, cigarettes were lit and that scraps and debris were removed instantaneously. It looked like being an event to remember.
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Part 1