The Daring Dance Dilemma

Becca was barely hanging onto Mike. She was still uncontrollably clutching at her spasming sex, further inflamed by the heat now flooding into her back entrance. As she shuddered out her climax Mike barely felt her finger nails digging deep enough into his chest to draw blood.

So rapt were they in their shared moment of fusion that they barely even registered the loud crash and cries from the crowd below as the light they had shook loose from its mooring came crashing down on the stage far below them.

Becca was still descending from the heights, when Mike first began to realise something had gone wrong. It was then that he began to process what he had taken in in the moments before climax. He whipped his head around and down and saw the crowd on the dancefloor shoving back from the stage, while the DJ was looking up, terrified, the shattered light now a smoking, sparking wreck in the centre of his crushed laptop.

Worst of all, was the sudden, deafening, absence of music that now filled the hall. It was only interrupted by the cries and screams of panicked teenagers.

"Shit!" Mike practically yelled. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Mike, just give me a moment to catch my breath - " Becca began to pant into his ear.

"Move!" Mike spat at her, "We have to fucking move! Right now!"

Still dazed by their encounter, Becca was slow to react, "What? Why?"

Mike did not want to waste time explaining things. He pulled himself up using the railing. He had to lift Becca with him, as he was still buried in her ass, his dick not yet relaxed. His legs were rubbery when he stood, but hers actually collapsed as he tried to set her down.

A small part of Mike, the only part that was not screaming "I'm fucked! I'm so fucked!" Felt a little pride that he had just made a girl come so hard she couldn't stand straight. But the rest of him was already desperately looking for an escape route.

He was still so hard, he had to physically lift Becca up again to slide her off his shaft. Her body seemed to want to cling to his, and released him reluctantly and with a huge, and sudden slop of trapped semen. This too fell through the grating and must have splashed down somewhere on the stage below. More damning evidence to ensure Mike would lose everything and probably end up in jail.

Mike was scrambling now, trying to grab up his pants and jacket, and finding it impossible with the two of them standing all over it in the narrow space. Becca, meanwhile, had been mentally slapped into awareness by his sudden panic. She looked over the railing for the first time to see the devastated scene below.

She snapped into action, springing back so that Mike could finally gather up his clothes.

"Come on," Mike said, "Let's get down the ladder before someone comes to investigate."

"It's too late," Becca was looking down and Mike followed her gaze, two teachers were already mounting the stage near the DJ's booth and turning towards the ladder.

Mike and Becca were still somewhat protected by the remaining bright lights, but not for long. When someone thought to turn on the huge fluorescent lights above the gym they would have no chance.

"Fuck! Is there another way down?" Mike asked as he leapt and hopped his way back into his pants.

"No, there is only one ladder..." She paused a moment just as Mike heard the first clang of a foot on a metal rung.

"Wait. I think there is something!" She shoved him forward, in the opposite direction from the ladder, towards, what looked to Mike, like a blank wall.

"Where is it? Where is it?" Becca spoke to herself as they moved down the gangway. As she moved she intermittently pushed Mike and worked on resecuring her opened shirt and straightening her crooked skirt.

"What are you looking for?" Mike could feel the panic rising. This was bad. This was really bad. They could have killed someone. There were going to be serious consequences. Everyone he knew was bound to find out what they had been up to up here. Becca's dad would probably neuter him, kill him and have his corpse taxidermied so that he could use it as a target on the firing range.

Carol would do worse.

"Aha!" Becca exclaimed, snatching at something hanging off the side of the railing. Looking back, Mike could see the teachers had not yet made it up to the gangway, but they had to be getting close. He and Becca were now on the far side of it, in a dimly lit section that would have made it hard for them to be seen, at least for now.

"Here," Becca thrust something that felt like a complicated set of nylon straps.

"What is it?" He asked

"A harness they used to lower in Tinkerbell for the Peter Pan production last year. I knew they wouldn't have taken it down yet. No one does anything in this school unless they receive a direct order."

Still not understanding how this would help them in their present situation he sputtered, "So?"

"So," Her voice was starting to sound angry, "You put it on and I lower you to the stage below. Sure, Tinkerbell was played by a 90 pound girl, but I am sure the rig has to have a wide safety margin. Get in."

Mike looked over the side, eyes wide, "You want me to go down on this fucking thing?!"

"Yes, or we are both fucked."

"What about you?"

"Your concern is sweet, but trust me, I can handle this. I, at least, can explain why I am up here. I have keys, remember. You have no chance. Go now, or we both lose everything," she added before giving him a shove that nearly sent him toppling over the rail.

There was a clang behind them, and they both turned to see one of the teachers now stepping up onto the gangway.

"Go!" She ordered, slapping at him in frustration. He suddenly realised there was no time to fiddle with the harness or put on his shoes. These he dropped over the railing. Then, feeling terror burning white hot behind his eyeballs, he stepped up onto the railing and swung one leg over. Then, sticking his arms into the harness and trying to hold as many of the straps as he could in his hands for safety, he swung out into empty space.

If his bladder were not still in its post orgasmic shut-down, he probably would have peed himself.

For a second he dangled there, high above the dark stage below. Then he caught a glimpse of Becca fiddling with a set of levers attached to the railing he had not noticed. She gave him a sad look before saying, "It's such a pity."

"What?!" He hissed as writhed with mounting terror in his loose harness high above the black depths below.

"You didn't get to fuck me on all fours like you promised."

Flabbergasted, he began to respond, "You are seriously fucked u..." when she decided to flip the lever she held and he dropped with stomach-lurching suddenness, his last syllable extending into a high pitched wail.

He felt certain that he was about to break both his legs, or even die from the impact as he fell into blackness. Each passing instant he had time to consider what it would sound like when his own bones disintegrated, how it would feel when the landing liquified his internal organs.

Instead, a little after he had become certain of his impending death, he felt the harness suddenly jolt, nearly yanking itself off his shoulders and out of his hands as he slowed almost to a stop. A brief time passed, as he swung pendulously from the rope, dropping at a more measure pace now, until he struck the ground without warning. He stumbled, but he had not landed hard after all, he had just not been ready for it and it nearly sent him rolling across the floor. He was able to catch himself though and, taking a moment to fumble around blindly for his shoes, he slipped them on, bent low and scurried towards the front of the stage.

He dropped to his belly and lifted up the edge of the heavy curtain to peek into the hall. The room was in chaos. Students were still running around, clutching each other, one or two of them were even crying. The teachers and chaperones were frantically trying to corral the kids out the emergency doors. They all looked shocked and far too busy to notice him sliding out from under the curtain, the same way Tye and Malcolm had gone, and dropping down to the floor below. He had chosen his spot fortuitously, as he found himself mostly hidden behind one of the large speakers.

Suddenly realising he was in the clear. He dusted himself off, checked his fly to make sure he had left nothing hanging out, and then stepped out boldly into the melee. Immediately he began holding out his arms, waving and guiding students in the way he saw there other chaperones doing, as if he had been there the whole time. He was having about as much effect on the milling crowd as the others.

He kept looking up to the dark space above the stage where, even now, he knew Becca had to be. He felt a little relief that he could make nothing out through the shadow and the remaining three lights still in place. He knew he could do nothing to help her now, and he felt increasingly guilty about that. But, given what he knew of her boldness, authority and intelligence, he suspected that if anyone could wriggle out of the trap she had stepped into for him, it was her.

Just then the gym lights finally flickered into life and the room was suddenly bathed in harsh fluorescent light. Suddenly cheap dresses and suits as well as badly made-up, partially smeared and tear streaked faces were all around him, the illusion cast by the dim lighting shattered. Now there were only gawky, panicked teenagers where once there had been confident young adults.

Mike was tall, standing half a head taller than most of the others in the room. It wasn't surprising then that one girl, looking more desperate and dishevelled than the rest, caught his eye from across the room and came shoving and bustling towards him. Her round face was blotchy and streaked with mascara from tears. Mike didn't recognise her until she was nearly upon him. It was Taylor, the friend Sara has disappeared with when they had first arrived, what suddenly felt like a long time ago. Clearly the incident with the light had seriously upset her. Mike had half a mind to tell her to pull it together, no one had actually been hurt and everyone was freaking out over nothing.

She was yelling at him though, before he could open his mouth, "Mr Mitchell! Mr Mitchell! You have to come right now. We've been looking for you everywhere."

Mike felt a sweat break out on him at the thought that people had noticed his absence. Had they noticed Becca was gone too? Did they know? It had to be impossible.

Taylor had him by the arm and was tugging him insistently. "You have to come! It's Sara! You have to come now!"

Mike was still trying to think of excuses he could make without incriminating himself, when his mind flicked back to the mention of Sara's name. His Sara. Was she in trouble? Suddenly Mike was no longer being pulled along by Taylor, he was running beside her, shoving people out of the way as they made their way to an exit. The fear he had seen in her eyes, and dismissed as the overreaction of a teenage girl, now spurring him into action.

"What is it? Is she okay?" He demanded, as they shoved through into the foyer and then into the cold night air.

"I don't know. She is, like, really out of it. I think she's really sick or something."

Mike cursed himself for being away, seeing to his own pleasures while his own daughter had apparently needed him. He became aware that he was crushing Taylor's arm. She kept looking down at his hand, the discomfort registering plainly on her plain face. Obviously intimidated by his sudden aggressive manner she did not register any complaint. Realising this, he immediately released her and jogged besides her as they ran alongside the outside of gym, through the parking lot. He cast about desperately among the many figures that were now wandering aimlessly outside the gym

Then, under the light of one of the parking lot lamps he saw them, three figures. One was a teacher of Sara's he vaguely recognised, the second was a girl he did not know, but she kneeling down and waving a hand ineffectually over the face of the third figure, who lay prostrate on the ground. Mike felt a spike of terror as he saw it was Sara. She looked dead.

Her skin was pale, her bangs matted at the front. He took her to be lifeless from the limp way she was spread across the ground, half in some bushes. Her dress, which he had paid far too much for, was torn. One shoulder strap was gone and it hung down, revealing a padded white bra.

Mike felt desperate anger course through him. He rushed over, and nearly choked out tears of relief when he saw her head move and her eyes open slightly before closing again. He nearly threw a punch at the male teacher, simply for want of someone to lash out at.

Sensing his anger, the teacher took a step back and held up his hands defensively.

"What the fuck happened?!" Mike demanded. Both of the two girls with him were too taken aback by his fury and cursing to say anything. The teacher did his best to calm him, replying in an unhurried voice, keeping his hands up in a calming gesture.

"It's okay, Mr Mitchell. She seems to be alright. She is breathing and her pulse seems to be normal."

"Are you a doctor?" Mike spat the man. He didn't even look at him, he was kneeling besides Sara now, holding her clammy hand and trying to see into her nearly closed eyes. He could tell now that she was breathing, but she looked terrible, almost unrecognisable as his daughter.

"I am sorry, Mr Mitchell. It seems like maybe she, like a few of the other kids here, was drinking. At least that is what I can gather. It is something we can talk about at a later time though, perhaps you should take her home?" The man's tone was questioning as he looked around nervously. No doubt the parents and students were starting to notice the miserable little tableaux. Mike could not have cared less, he was intent on Sara.

Looking again, he could see a wetness to her mouth and dress. Her could smell it now too. Clearly she had been sick.

"This is bullshit. She wouldn't. She couldn't. He enfolded her limp hand in both of his and spoke to her, "Baby, it's dad. Are you okay? Can you talk?"

The teacher tried to speak to him again, saying, "Mr Mitchell, She will probably be okay, but I really think you should take her home." No doubt the man was considering the image of the school.

Mike was felt himself about to rise up and punch the man when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He glanced sideways and saw it was Becca. She had obviously got out of the situation he had left her stranded in atop the gangway.

It was astonishing the immediate calming effect her presence had on him. He felt as if she were the adult in this situation, and that with her arrival suddenly everything would be resolved somehow.

By her composure, she did not look like someone who was in trouble or about to be expelled. He wanted to ask her what happened after he left, but that would have to wait. He knew he could have been mad at her for dragging him away from the dance when he should have been looking after his daughter, but any chance of that evaporated when she gave his shoulder a subtle squeeze and said, "I came as soon as I heard. What happened?"

"I don't know," Mike replied, his voice cracking, "Something happened to Sara. This asshole," he pointed to the teacher "Thinks she is drunk, but she would never do something that idiotic. She knows better." But even as he said this he caught the look that passed between Taylor and the, as yet, unnamed girl.

"What is it?" He demanded.

"Uh," Taylor hesitated.

"Spit it out," Mike spoke more gruffly than was strictly necessary. When he caught Becca's eye she shook her head a touch, but without reproach. He sighed, took a deep breath and tried again, "Please if you know anything about what happened to her, I would really appreciate it. She is my daughter. I need to know what happened."

"She did drink," the girl Mike did not know suddenly blurted.

"Ruby!" Taylor scolded.

"I'm sorry, but she did."

"That's not what happened."

Mike was about to shout out, "Well, what the fuck did happen?!" but he felt rather than saw Becca's continued attention on him. He breathed again before prompting, "No one is going to get into trouble here."

When the teacher looked like he was about to protest, Mike glared him down, the man's half raised hand fell back limp to his side.

"Go on," Mike urged.

"It was just a stupid dare. There was some kid going around with a bottle, offering a drink to some of the girls. No one was taking anything, but then Sara dared me to. I said I would if she went first."

"But then you chickened out," Ruby added.

"You did too," Taylor snapped back, "Besides, she only took a sip. It was hardly like she could be drunk."

"Did you see anything else?" Mike was digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood, in his attempt to remain collected.

"Not really, we kind of went off in different directions after that."

"You were making out with Tony Harper, you mean," Ruby muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Ruby!" Hissed Taylor.

"What?" She protested, then, completely misreading the interest of the people around her added, "He was Tricia's date. She is going to be so pissed."

"Girls, focus!" His barked command stopped Taylor's retort. Mike felt the string that tethered his patience fray to its final chord.

After a hateful look at Ruby, Taylor continued, "Sara went to go and find Finley. That was the last time I saw her until the bomb, or whatever went off in there."

It took Mike a moment to remember that Finley was Sara's date, the one whose haircut seemed designed to emphasise his large and oddly shaped head.

Taylor continued, "We were near the door when it happened and we just ran out here. I lost Tony, but found Ruby and together we tried to call Sara."

Ruby joined in again, adding, "We thought she might be in the bathroom or something, we wanted to tell her to get out. Only, she didn't pick up. Instead we heard something ringing nearby. We thought we saw something in the shadows. When we got close somebody ran off, crashing through the bushes, but we could still hear the phone, and we saw Sara's shoes sticking out and ran over."

Ruby finished, "I saw Mr Davies and Mr Jones, they were trying to organise the kids who had run outside, so I called them over," She nodded her head in the direction of the man Mike had nearly punched twice. "When I told Mr Davies what happened he ran off in the direction we saw the figure going. He hasn't come back yet."

The man, who by process of elimination, Mike deduced was Mr Jones, cleared his throat and added, as if to justify his presence, "One of us had to stay and look after the girls. You know, to be safe." By his skeptical tone Mike guessed he did not believe the story about the mysterious figure in the bushes. To him Sara was just another dumb teenager who drank too much at a dance.

Mike decided to ignored the man entirely, before he lost all restraint. Instead he prompted, "And Frodo?"

"Finley," Taylor corrected, gathering his meaning.

"Whatever. Where did he go? I am going to kill that little turd." Mike growled, half rising and looking around, as if the boy might be standing nearby.

"Hold on," Becca spoke softly, but it gave him pause. "Who gave her the drink?"

"Ugh," Ruby gave a disgusted look, "It was a bunch of dweebs I don't even know their names. One of them kept bragging about this fancy champagne he stole from his dad. He kept trying to get us to drink it. We all told him to get lost, but Sara said we should taste it, to see what all the fuss was about."

The subtle change to her story was not lost on Mike, but he decided not to acknowledge it for expediency's sake.

Instead he looked up and, in the moment he met eyes with Becca, he knew they were coming to the same conclusion. His interest in Finley was gone in a instant. He had a good idea who was responsible for this now, and seeing the suspicion confirmed in Becca's look of realisation was all he needed.