It had been three months since I had broken up with my boyfriend, and I was feeling a strong sense of sexual frustration.  Since then, I had enjoyed, if that is the right word, a few one night stands, but I knew that I wanted something more, something different.  At 27, I was still comparatively inexperienced sexually.  Prior to my recent casual sex I had been with only three men, and that had been in relationships.  I found it easy enough to attract men.   Five feet, eight inches tall and with long legs, I kept my slim figure in good shape. My grey/blue eyes drew many compliments, as did my thick, brown hair, which I wore long.  I had often been tempted to be more sexually adventurous, but had never found a partner willing to share my fantasies.

So when I saw the advert in the personal columns of a magazine, I felt a crazy urge to try it out. The wording was vague, along the lines of, “If you are interested in adventurous sex and want to try something different with like-minded people, contact us.”  After a lot of indecision, I thought, nothing ventured...  and decided to give it a try.  I hadn’t been with a man for about six weeks and was feeling really frustrated.

After I left a message with the box number, I had a reply which suggested I was in touch with a group of swingers.   What the hell I thought – I can always leave if I don’t like what goes on.

The literature I received was from an agency saying that the identity of the organisers of the group had been authenticated.  It stressed that confidentiality and anonymity were rigorously respected.

After I had paid the agency fee, and sent a photograph, I received a membership card and a password.  I nervously awaited notification of the first get-together.

Finally I received an email. It was an invitation to a fancy dress Halloween party.  The instructions stated that the choice of dress was not prescriptive, apart from the need for an appropriate mask. But of course, something sexy would be expected.

I didn’t have a clue about what to wear for a Halloween party, and didn’t know of any hire shops. But at least I managed to buy a good quality latex mask in the image of a female warlock, which, I thought, managed to look both sensual and predatory.  I was surprised at how comfortable it felt, and my eyes and mouth were clearly visible, and, I thought hopefully, accessible.

To wear, I settled on full length black leggings, which I hadn’t worn for years, under a red, flared silk skirt, which I had bought on holiday abroad.  It was a bit shorter than mid-thigh.   After trailing round the shops, I settled on a long sleeved, high necked shiny black top with some strange dragon motifs in red.  The cheap material showed every line of my bras, so with some misgivings, I decided to go bra-less. The result left nothing to the imagination, and I smiled wryly at the thought that I looked more like a tart than a witch.  A red thong and my favourite black strappy stilettos certainly completed the tart image.

Before getting dressed for my first meeting with the group, I stood before the full-length mirror, carefully applying after-shower oil all over my naked body.  The prospect of what the evening might bring had made me very aroused, and as I smoothed the oil into my breasts, the nipples rose hard and proud. I chuckled as I realised that I had lingered over