Party Favours

Disclaimer: Mature, naughty, inflatable, things contained herein. Don't be reading this if you're not supposed to.

It's sad - really, it is - to think how callously such beautiful things had their fate predestined.  Shackled, violently shattered, trampled, and then swept up off of a dirty floor and into a dustbin, they would ultimately wind up at the bottom of some foul landfill - "sanitary", they call it - hmph.  Used and forgotten after they had helped cheer up so many; why not spirit them away and give them a chance to revel in their magical buoyancy for a little while longer?

Indeed, why not?  It wouldn't be the first time she had done that.  However, the thrill of rescuing a clutch of balloons from the cleaning crew had lost much of the impact it once had.  Perhaps there was more than a bit of truth in the dictum about the effect of having "too much of a good thing" and the routine success of camouflaging one's naughty intentions by use of elaborately concocted (but plausible) tall tales had, anymore, simply dulled the excitement beyond a quick ponder and even quicker dismissal of the notion.

Mind you, she had long since passed beyond any immature need to anthropomorphosize everything, but there was something different about these balloons.  They were so pretty that she actually felt a twinge of sorrow for them.  Centered in the room with their tethers anchored to the back of a chair, the brilliant red cloud swayed gently as it was nudged around by the ventilation system.  A light recessed high above in the ballroom's ceiling bathed them so that they glowed against the darkened walls.  So shiny, so round, so buoyant - so....inviting.

***

The client had been very specific about a few things and the group's representative with whom Jane had worked over the last few weeks had made some unusual requests.  He was an American fellow, pleasant enough about the whole affair but quite firm in his insistence that every detail be followed exactly.   Ever the professional, Jane was quite experienced working with the higher social strata in planning these kinds of events, so odd requests and quirks were never really odd at all.

The normal features for such an occasion had been included: musicians, catering, a light show, and decorations.  But it was the requirement for security and how it was to be implemented that had finally piqued her interest.  It wasn't unusual to have a closely guarded guest list for these types of things, but it had been insisted upon that by eleven o'clock in the evening that the all of the attending staff - that is, everyone not actually on the guest list, be sent away.  
The closest that the security detail was to ever approach the rural Georgian manor that evening would be the perimeter of the sprawling estate.  Odd?  Definitely.  The well-to-do generally preferred quite the opposite approach.  However, the client was paying quite handsomely for high-end professional services and if that's what they wanted, that's what they got.  Odd, too, was that the cleaning staff was not to return until morning (a New Year's gift, the man had joked), but he did stipulate that Jane's presence was required as a final check that the uninvited didn't somehow manage to stumble in.  One of the beefy goons at the front gate was ready to make a mad dash to intercept any party crasher the moment Jane radioed him.  The final instructions to her before festivities began that evening were that after the staff was dismissed that absolutely nobody, including Jane herself, was to be allowed into the sealed ballroom until after the stroke of midnight.

Right.  Gotcha.  

"Shall I be on the lookout for errant glass slippers as well?" she wisely refrained from vocalizing when that particular request was made.

***

So, expecting the doors to burst open and a throng of tipsy revelers to pour out of the room, at 12:01 A.M. Jane was mystified that no such thing was occurring.  Having made her way from her kitchen redoubt, she found the foyer to be quite still.  In fact, it was so still that it was apparent that the same circumstance held true for the space on the other side of the ballroom doors.  Not even the P.A. system could be heard.  "Uh-oh" she thought to herself as a creeping dread washed over her.  "Please...please tell me there aren't two hundred corpses neatly dressed in purple track suits and white tennis shoes lying on the floor in there."  The sentiment was only partially meant in jest.

There was only one way to find out, so she cautiously approached the door and paused a moment to see if she could hear any activity at this closer range.  Still, there was none.  A quick check of her watch confirmed that yes, it was several minutes past midnight.  Technically, she was allowed into the ballroom now.  

Walkie-talkie and clipboard in one hand, she reached for the door handle with her free one and pulled.  The lock movement was deafening against the silence and the creaking door hinges made her teeth clench.  At this point, what she really feared was the angry glare from several hundred people staring back at her as she poked her head through the opened door.

Alas, the room was empty of guests: no angry, glaring drunks - no dead kooks.  Relieved, she laughed at her over-active imagination and then brought her radio up to speak into it.  "Oy. Trevor."

"Go."

"Any activity?"

"Nope."

Again, odd.  A check out back was warranted.  "Ian - how about you?"

"Clear."

"Okay, stand-by."

Opening the door further and fully stepping inside the room, the beautiful red balloon bouquet now caught her attention.  In the middle of the room it stood, a shaft of light illuminating it.  Scattered about the room were the empty tables and chairs with party favors, confetti, and assorted champagne paraphernalia.  Covering the dance floor and spilling out into the aisles between tables like a giant bubble bath were all gold and white balloons dropped from the nets high above.  But the ones tied to the back of the chair were not among the kind she had ordered for the event.  They were bigger and rounder and they glowed so beautifully in the light.  Most noticeably, they were falling up - not down.

The house lights had been extinguished, save for the ones recessed up in the ceiling that made each table glow from their invisible cascades of luminescence.  And, there was glitter.  Egad, the stuff was everywhere - beautiful, sparkling glitter.  But it was the big red balloons that she fixated upin.  They were simply irresistible and she was drawn to them.   Entering the room, she wound her way toward them as the drop balloons surrounding her on the floor seemed to follow in her wake as she passed by.  It was then that a little spark of an impulse rekindled in her.  It had been awhile since she had stolen, er, "saved" balloons from an event and she decided that - this time - the notion would not be dismissed.

Standing before the red cloud, Jane stared up into it and gathered their strings in her free hand.  They were immense above her, dozens of them happily rustling and colliding into one another after being disturbed.  And as she pulled down on the rope of strings, they enveloped her.  Static tendrils pulled at her skin as she brought them closer.  The cocoon now enveloping her shut out all other sound and they were so warm as they embraced her in a gentle caress.  "I'm going to take you home with me" she whispered, giving them a little tug and causing them to rustle together some more.

Jane let go of the strings and the balloons shot upward.  The static bonds were so intense and that, for just a moment, it felt as though they were tugging her up with them.  Only her long hair managed to follow, briefly.  Her heart began pounding as the balloons hit the end of their tethers and momentarily, she felt faint.  "Oh, I am definitely taking you home with me."

Quickly, she began formulating devious plans;  it was easy work for an old pro.  But, shouldn't she have a twinge of guilt at that fact?  Just a little, even?  

No.  Screw-it.  A devilish little grin formed on her lips as she hastily planned an escape.  The guilty rush and the possibility of getting caught simply intensified the adrenaline flow and impaired her judgment.  She had to get them to her car without anyone seeing her do so.  Would they all fit?  She would just stuff in as many as she could and let the rest go ("blasphemy!" she mockingly scorned herself). Her car was just outside by the back entrance to the ballroom where... everyone must have left through.

"Crap" she quietly swore to herself.  "I bet they're all just standing out there taking pictures and chatting each other up."  Placing her clipboard and radio on the nearby table, she turned around and briskly made her way to the back entrance through the ocean of gold and white balloons.  Quietly, she opened the door, expecting to see the missing gaggle of drunken twits, er...guests.

Again, nobody was there.  A large group of people had obviously just passed through the doorway and out onto the lawn.  From the hundreds of footprints there, it looked like they just milled around a bit in the snow and then came back inside.  But the dance floor was dry.  No, matter - nobody is around at the moment and her car was just on the other side of the lawn.  Jane had to make her move immediately.

Almost running now in her high heels back to the table, her skirt billowed out to the sides, leaving a trail of agitated balloons behind.  Upon reaching the table, she carefully untied the balloon bunch, then gently wrapped the rope of strings about her wrist.  Too tight and the knot would be difficult to remove quickly.  Too loose and they'd all fly away.  Twisting her hand around the strings, she gathered them up again as one and then pulled balloons down around her.  Again, the static tug washed over her and she was enveloped in warmth.  She stood for a moment and closed her eyes, taking it in; the rustling toonk-toonk of the balloons rebounding off of each other, the smell of the latex, and the smooth shiny surfaces lightly brushing against her cheeks and forehead.

Briskly but carefully, she made her way to the back door, the red cloud happily dancing above.  The gold and white balloons on the floor seemed to chase along after, though they were unable to keep up the pursuit. After a quick peek outside to make sure nobody was around, she carefully backed her way out of the double doors.  It would be a shame to lose one of the beautiful orbs - not to mention that the pop may attract attention.  Out into the cold December - no, make that January - air she strode, pausing to plot the shallowest course through the snow to her Land Rover.  The moon and starlight was hauntingly beautiful on the powdery drifts.  "Okay", she whispered.  "Let's make this quick."

"Hello, Jane."  

Jane froze in her tracks and gasped audibly at the familiar voice.  Caught like a winter rabbit by a snow owl, she was. Turning around to face the client's representative, she tried her best to muster a cheerfully nonchalant oh-fancy-meeting-you-here voice.  "Oh, um, hello Mr. Smith. It's turned out to be a beautiful evening, hasn't it?"  Jane awkwardly gestured upward into the night sky.  Her heart was seemingly in her throat.

"Yeah, it sure is" drawled Mr. Smith. "Ev'rybody sure liked your party."  He had a pleasant grin on his face, but it was a grin that seemed barely to contain his amusement as he stood there, tuxedo clad in the snow.

"Good, good."  Replied Jane, her heart pounding.  Perhaps he was a bit tipsy and hadn't noticed her new accessories.  "But everybody seems to have left quite suddenly."

"Yup.  They've all gone home - didn't want to stick around afterward.  I swear, they're gettin' more boring every year."  He smiled more broadly and cocked his head slightly.  "They look good on you."

Jane flustered just a bit and the red balloons rustled above her, generating more of that intense static.  "Um, uh?" was all she could manage while furrowing her brow in an assumed look of innocent puzzlement.

"The balloons" he said, pointing up at the cloud above her.  "They compliment you."

Again, faking innocence, she cast her gaze upward as if just noticing what was over her head.  "Oh, those. Yes.  Thank-you."  Maybe some tap dancing right about now would help the embarrasing situation.

Mr. Smith grinned wider and chuckled in a way that plainly indicated that the jig was up and he reached up and pulled one of the balloons down, removing its string.  Holding it by the valve, he gently bopped Jane on the nose with it, then slyly pulled it down along her front and pressed it into her waist.  The touch was electric - literally, she could feel the static cling build as the balloon slid down the front of her sweater and felt that she was as much drawn to it as it to her.  The balloon was soft and warm and her hands unconsciously accepted it, pressing it into her midriff.  She stared intensely into the man's eyes and her heart pounded so forcefully that she simply neglected to take offence at the proxy grope.  It was all so overwhelming.  How much did this guy know?

"Consider them a New Year's gift.  We hoped that you would accept them."  He smiled kindly, returning her gaze with worldly eyes.  "We'd sure love to have you join us next year.  As a guest, of course."

She stammered, synapses angrily shouting at each other across her brain.

Gently placing his finger on her lips, he preempted any response.  "Give me a call tomorrow."  He flashed a small card and then placed it in the waist pocket of her blazer.  Closer to her now, he leaned forward and spoke softly. "And, it's not Mr. Smith, by the way."  Drawing closer still, into her ear he whispered a message in confidence, then pulled back and smiled affectionately at her. Stunned at the revelation, Jane returned the smile along with a euphoric gaze.

"And don't worry, they'll be taking you home" he said a bit more formally.

She bristled slightly, some genuine puzzlement reaching through the euphoria.  The man reached into his pocket and pulled something out; something that looked like...sand?  No - glitter!  A small pile of it rested in his left hand and with his right, he grabbed a pinch and tossed it up over her head.  It descended over both her and the balloon she held in her hands, glowing in the moonlight as it settled on her.  Was this some sort of greeting or farewell?

The man leaned forward again and gently kissed her on the forehead.  Stepping back a pace and smiling, he again seemed amused.  Jane stood there for a moment, not sure if she should turn around just yet and continue on over to her car.

But there was not need to wonder.  It hit her like a warm tingling wave from deep inside her abdomen, quickly radiating outward.  She shuddered for a moment, gasping slightly and leaning forward into the balloon in her hands.  It was like the most intense case of butterflies she ever had; orders of magnitude above anything she had experienced before.  The cloud of balloons closed in about her head as they followed the wrist they were attached to.  Astonished, and mouth agape, Jane looked up at the man, who continued smiling.

The tingling butterflies were soon followed by a gentle, radiating warmth and then...something else.  A hiss that sounded like the helium was escaping from the balloon she held. No - not escaping: filling it.  Jane could feel the balloon getting bigger, softer, pushing her hands apart and pushing into her as she leaned over it.  The tendrils of static flowed out from the balloon, dancing across her clothing and skin.

The balloon continued growing and Jane could feel it taking more of her weight as she leaned over it.  The man in the tuxedo looked on, a knowing smile adorning his visage.

Her attention was now directed at something else.  As the static in her sweater and skirt gently caressed her skin, she could feel every swoosh of the shifting fabric.  Now almost hugging the balloon, she could feel its surface sliding and growing beneath her.  It was then that it dawned on her - it wasn't just the balloon that was inflating!  A quick peek down to her chest confirmed that, beneath her sweater were two growing balloons of her own.  And that wasn't all.  The fabric sliding over her hips and bum told her that she was growing, no - inflating there as well.  Her stockings tightened as she felt her thighs ballooning, too.

A slight panic washed over her and she cast her gaze up to the smiling man, pleading in her eyes.  "Wha - how?"

"All in good time, my dear."

Her breathing rate increased as the static tendrils embraced all about her.  Soon, the final change began.  She could feel her tummy gently push out against the waistband of her skirt and down onto the growing surface of the now giant balloon.  Her breasts squeaked together beneath the sweater as did her thighs beneath her skirt.  All about her, it seemed her body was inflating, though not as quickly as at first.  That's when she noticed her hair start to float up in the static, reaching for the balloons above.  She began to feel light all over - and warm, too, despite the cold winter air.  Her pneumatic breasts seemed to shift upward, now...floating?  The balloon in her arms continued to grow, pushing her squeaky thighs apart.

And then, without even noticing it, Jane realized that her feet were no longer touching the ground.  She had made her last footprint in the snow for the evening;  one lasting impression to join all the others made there that evening.  Her posterior seemed to be pushing for the sky more than the rest of her and she tried the best she could to wrap her legs around the big red balloon, now almost completely beneath her.  It was when the perspective on her vantage point to the tuxedoed man changed that Jane realized she was rising, floating into the night sky.  Slowly at first, she was at eye level with the man, then above.

He smiled; keeping his gaze fixed upon her as he pulled a pipe out of his pocket and lit it.  Up and up she rose, now almost even with the roofline.  Was this really happening?  "I...I...." She tried to speak to him from the ever-growing chasm betwixt them, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I know, I know," he shouted back.  "Welcome to the club, Miss Jane."