Who We Are and What This Is

“The Vortex Hotel” is an interactive erotic novella written alternately by Jack and Julie, two people who don’t know each other in real life. It’s not finished; we continue to add to it regularly.

As the story opens, Julie is a bridesmaid at a hotel wedding reception. Julie is a distant cousin of the bride, Michele. They don’t like each other, but have agreed to be in the wedding together to try to heal a rift in their families.

Julie begins flirting with a hotel employee, Jack. They make playful bets, with the loser having to perform a dare. At one point, Jack dares Julie to take off her panties and give them to “Grandpa,” an older relative of the best man. Despite her trepidations, Julie does so. She then returns to Jack, and they discuss their next bet, which is on who will catch the bouquet.

We very much invite your comments, suggestions and participation in this experimental art form. 

You can contact Jack at jack4rp@yahoo.com

You can contact Julie at julie.julie@lycos.com

1. By Julie

I’ve seen this tacky ritual before. The bride tosses her bouquet, and the bride then sits on a chair, and the groom removes her garter from under her dress. Then he tosses it to the guys, and the one who gets it is supposedly the next guy to be married. The girl who caught the bouquet then sits on the chair, and the guy who caught the garter puts it on her, sliding it under her dress. There is lots of banter and hooting and the band plays “stripper” music. 

It’s tacky and low-class, and I was naïve enough to think that Michele was above it, little as I respected her. But I was wrong. 

“One of the bridesmaids will catch the bouquet,” I predict, “and one of the horny bastards in the groom’s party will catch the garter.” 

“And you agree to my dare if you lose?”

I’m about to respond, when the guitarist interrupts on the mike to ask all the eligible girls to come forward for the bouquet toss. They do, giggling and jockeying for position. I turn to you again, when one of the bridesmaids grabs me by the arm. 

“C’mon, Julie!” she urges, and drags me reluctantly out to the floor. 

You watch, amused. Everyone is watching the giggling girls, but you happen to notice Grandpa whispering something to the bride. They whisper, and he pulls something out of his pocket and shows it to her.

She grins. They whisper some more, and she grins again.  

Meanwhile, I’m a latecomer to the gaggle of gigglers, so I stand near the front and wait for the nonsense to be over. 

The guitarist plays a dramatic warm-up. I stand there bored and embarrassed. Finally Michelle, with some flair, tosses the bouquet. I watch it fly through the air, and suddenly realize it’s headed straight for my chest. I reflexively reach out, and the next moment discover that without in any way trying to do so, I’ve caught it.

2. By Jack

I laugh as the bridesmaid pulls you away, yelling after the two of you, “That a girl, Julie. Don’t let her act fool ya, she was just telling me this is her favorite part!” I smirk, sipping my wine, trying to formulate a new plan. What would I have you do? 

Then the unthinkable happened. Time seemed to slow as the bouquet flew through the air and towards you. As it made it’s way down and into your hands, my shoulders and head slumped, “Well shit.” I say to myself shaking my head and suddenly cursing at what I made you did, I raise my glass to you when I catch your eyes for a moment, “You’re gonna really get me now, aren’t you?” I say more to myself, as I smile and shake my head at you, thinking that the unthinkable just happened.

3. By Julie

After I catch the bouquet, there is a smattering of applause. (Apparently I was not the crowd favorite.) But Michele does come up to me and kiss me. The guitarist asks my name, and sings “Juuuuuu-lee” as the band performs impromptu backup.

I slink back to our table, placing the bouquet on it, and letting you ironically congratulate me. I feel numb.

You’re still thinking about losing the bet. “What are you going to do to me?” you ask. 

Much as I was intent on flirting with you a moment ago, I am a little distracted. I turn to you. “Right now, I’m just a little more concerned with what’s going to happen to ME,” I say, for once not being ironic.

“Now then,” interrupts the guitarist, booming his voice in a kitschy cheesy way, “it’s time for our bride Michele to lose an article of clothing!” 

He places a chair on the edge of the stage, about a foot and a half above the dance floor, facing out. Michele, loving the attention, walks up and sits down. The crowd, by now drunk, gathers around. The horny bastards in the groom’s party stand in front. 

The groom, Mark, is supposed to slide his hands under the bride’s dress and remove her garter. But instead he lifts her hem above her knees. Michele blushes, but it’s not clear if she is really uncomfortable or just playing the part. 

As the band plays something raunchy-sounding, Mark slides the hem further up Michelle’s thighs. The groomsmen kneel, ostensibly so others behind them can see, but in fact to get a better view, 

The guitarist leans over and peeks. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” he says. “I think we can see what Michele’s wearing that’s blue, and it’s NOT her garter!” 

The crowd roars. The guitarist was worried that his joke was too risqué, but now he is emboldened. 

Mark slides the garter to Michele’s knee. “Oh, give us another look!” the guitarist urges. Suddenly Mike lifts the hem of Michele’s dress, and everyone can catch a glimpse of Michele’s light blue lacy panties between her slightly parted thighs. She blushes and mock-tussles with him for the hem, then he lets go and removes the garter.  

The drunk crowd cheers with delight. Michele playfully slaps Mike and walks off. “All in good fun,” the guitarist crows.  

Our table is well-situated such that you are distracted getting a good look at Michele. Finally you look back at me. Suddenly it starts to dawn on you why I’m upset. 

“I caught the bouquet,” I remind you. “So whoever catches the garter gets to put it on me. Taking the garter off the bride is usually the tame part; it’s putting it on someone else that everyone always plays to the hilt. And thanks to you … I’m … not … wearing … any … panties.” 

You look away, feeling awkward, and once again notice Michele and Grandpa whispering.

4. By Jack

The crowd continues to cheer, getting louder and louder as the excitement builds and the drinks are poured. I look again to you, seeing the panic on your face. I lean down, covering my face in the crook of my arm. Well shit, Jack, meet a girl who’s not only pretty and fun, but also adventurious and you go and fuck it up. Pat yourself on the back, bud.

I look up at you, eyes going to Mark, then back to you. I pull the chair back, “You’re going to owe me if I can pull this off…” I say moving away from our table. I pass by a table of some of the older folks gathered at the wedding and as one of the men leans forward I slip his jacket off the back of his chair, pulling it on me in one motion covering my uniform. I shake my head as I slip in behind and into the group of single men. 

I take one look back at you, to see the horror and worry on your face. Well shit, I think, that just piles the pressure on. I quickly turn around, placing an eblow to the sides of one of Mark’s friends to get him to move just enough to let me get in deeper to the horny group of men as the guitarist tries getting the crowd even more excited, “Who’s gonna be the lucky fellow to get to place the garter on our Julie, seated right over there!” He says, pointing you out.

As if you weren’t embrassed enough, almost everyone takes a look over at you, seeing you red faced as you watch your fate play out before you. You notice Grandpa grinning, looking at you unlike anyone else here.

Mark claps his hands once, drawing the attention back to him, he says something you can’t hear and then time slows for you.

The only thing you can hear is your heart beating, everything else fades into the backround. Ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, as his arm stretches out, ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, hand extending forward sending the garter flying from his fingers. You’re not sure what to watch, the garter gracefully flying through the air or the men in front, pushing and shoving for position filled on wine and testerone.

Hands reach up as the garter flies into the group, fingers trying to get a piece of it, shoving, and then someone trips and falls to their knees and the garter slips from hands, falling, the group fights for it like animals almost. For everyone else, only seconds have passed but to you it seems to last an hour. You can barely hear the guartist shouting “Who’s got it?! Who’s the lucky man?!” as your mind screams the same, ‘Who’s got it?!’.

Suddenly, you see me back out of the dog pile, as if I was pushed out, my hands going in my pockets as I turn to meet your eyes, my face telling you the whole story as I shrug, looking defeated. Your heart beats even faster as you realize your fate, a man, one you probably hate, is about to expose you to the whole wedding party.

They’re going to make you sit on the stage, as they gather around with the band playing the same tacky music they play at every wedding for this moment. The man will knee between your legs, lift up your skirt and everyone here will know what myself and grandpa already do – you are wearing no panties. This event will spread within days of this and become wedding legend, “Did you hear about the slut who took off her panties and went up on stage?”.

As you look back to me, trying to search for any way out of this mess, I bring my hand up from my pocket and with my pointing finger, call you forward as my other hand comes out, raising a garter and holding it high, I smirk and mouth the words “You owe me” to you as I turn to the stage and look up at Mike and the guitarist, “I believe you’re looking for me.” I say with a smile, before laughing at the drunk horny pile of men on the ground who all look up at me.

I take a moment to tease the group of men, imagining they’re the guys from every stupid wedding I’ve had to do, displaying confidence and cockyness, “All skill boys. Next time, maybe next time.” I grin.

Silently, on the inside, I’m sweating bullets, feeling my heart thumping against my chest. Don’t forget to buy a lottery ticket today, Jack.

5. By Julie

My whole body experiences relief as I discover that you have the garter, but I have only a moment to enjoy it before the guitarist calls me to the stage. A moment later I’m seated in the chair, facing the crowd, the groomsmen in front, and Steve, the best man, cracking jokes among them, and ready with his camera. 

All the groomsmen were obnoxious, but Steve was the worst. I do believe Michele had shared her annoyance at being forced to have me as a bridesmaid, and had encouraged the groomsmen to make me as uncomfortable as possible. But Steve, I think, was almost pathological, and had a pronounced sadistic streak. 

The first time I was alone with him and a couple of his friends, at a party at Michele’s family’s house, he asked me if it was true that Michelle was putting the bridesmaids in strapless dresses. I said yes. He asked if it was hard to keep up a strapless dress if you didn’t have big tits. He stared at my chest. “What are you….34b, maybe?” he asked, then grinned like it was a playful joke. 

Another time he asked me what color panties I was wearing, explaining that the guys had made a bet. At the rehearsal dinner, where I was wearing a short dress, he sat next to me at one point, reached under the tablecloth, put his hand on my knee and started sliding it up my leg. I got up and went to the powder room. 

Behind me, the band struck up more raunchy music. The crowd cheered. My heart pounded. You slid the garter up under my dress, revealing nothing. There were some scattered groans and boos. 

“Oops, Jack!” said the guitarist. “That was the wrong leg! It goes on her other leg. Sorry, you’ll have to take it off and start over.” (A classic trick for this game.) 

There’s no good way out of this, so you again slide your hands under my dress. This time you stop, with my legs parted for you and your right hand sliding high up along my thigh. Our eyes meet, and you smile. You’re my white knight, and I can’t begrudge you a moment to savor the situation. Then you slide the garter down over my high heel, and begin on my other leg. 

As the garter slides over my knee, and nothing is revealed, the guitarist gets frustrated at your gallantry. “Here, let me help!” he says, and he stands on the other side of you and grabs the hem of my dress, lifting it over my knees. My hands go straight to my lap, and a struggle ensues as he tries to yank the hem to my waist. 

Fortunately, you move quickly in front of me, and as the flashbulbs and video cameras go off, all they can see is your back…saving me from becoming a YouTube sensation. You join the struggle on my side and eventually pull my hem down. Then I stand up and walk off. I suspect the guitarist could probably tell that I was au naturel, but the damage was limited to him. 

There is a smattering of applause and some more groans and boos as we sit down. My heart is pounding against my chest. 

I look at you. “I do think you owe me for that. Big time,” you say. 

I look past you for a moment and see Steve walking by, shooting me a look. It says, “You dodged a bullet there, Julie, but I’m going to get you tonight. Just you wait.” I look around. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I sense a similar vibe from the other groomsmen…..Grandpa…..Michelle…the guitarist…. 

At this point I want to go upstairs to my hotel room and lock and barricade the door. However, before I can do that, I realize I have a very large debt to repay. 

“Yes, I owe you big time,” I say to you, smiling the most engaging smile I can manage. “What can I do to make it up to you? Your wish is my command.”

6. By Jack

Coming off the stage behind you, I wince slightly feeling my side. One of Mark’s friends gave me an elbow, and I don’t think it was an accident. I follow you back to our table, stopping off at the other table on the way to return the jacket I had lifted.

I slide into the seat next to you and turn to you, “I do think you owe me for that. Big time.” 

The way you smile at me, I suddenly wonder if I’m being played. Are you smiling at me so I’ll go easy on you or are you just enjoying our little game that much? I smile back, thinking of what I could have you do, the possibilities, “Anything?” I say, my smile turning into a slightly lop sided grin, drumming my fingers on my chin, pretending to think, teasing you.

I see Steve walk by and get a scowl on my face as I pretend to flip him off. Fucker, I think turning away from you, drilling holes in the back of his head with my eyes. Realizing what I was doing, I turn back to you and quickly apologize, “Sorry, hate that man with a passion.” I say as I slide my chair closer to yours, my knees brushing against yours under the table. 

As I look into your eyes, I slip my hand down and place it on your knee. Seeing you just still smiling at me, I maintain my gaze. If anyone watching from across the room looked over, they’d think of us as just a young couple in love, never having an idea what I was doing with my hand.

I move my hand up slightly, fingers dragging along your skin, up from your knee to your lower thigh, “My any wish might be dangerous, are you sure?” I grin. Before you can answer, my grin vanishes. I remove my hand from your leg, my whole body language changes, confusing you as I slide back and stand up, bending over, “Boss alert.” I say picking up your glass, “Refill miss?”

I smile at you, a curious look coming across my face, “You know what,” I pat my pocket, “I think I’m gonna hold onto this wish for a little longer.” I pick up your plate and my own, and then as I look at you, the most interesting look you’ve seen comes across my face. 

A mixture of a smile, happiness, but also a slight boyish embarrassment, “I think I might save that wish for something truly special…” The look is suddenly gone, replaced by a smirk, “Besides, I think you won your bet first. So by right, your wish is my command.” I wink playfully, “And I’ll be right back to hear what revenge you’ve dreamed up for me.”

I head off to drop the dishes off and get you a refill. As I walk off, I wonder and smile, are you looking at my ass? I laugh, shaking my head, feeling like I’m a kid again on my first date, reliving everything for the first time.

7. By Julie

As you walk away to refill my drink, I gaze at your backside. So it’s my turn to give YOU a dare, is it? That creates a lot of possibilities. 

However, I’m still feeling paranoid, especially when you disappear and I feel a lot of eyes on me. I really want to get out of here. 

By the time you return with the drinks, I’ve decided on my dare. 

“Bring your drink and follow me,” I tell you. 

We walk out of the ballroom and through the hotel. I lead you through the lobby, then down one long quiet passageway after another. Finally we come to a set of glass doors. We walk through. 

It’s the outdoor pool. It’s set apart a bit from the hotel, and since it’s late and the pool is closed, it’s dark and quiet. You look around. There are elegant pool chairs and tables and a chic bar. 

“So what is my dare?” you ask.

“It has three parts,” I say. “Part one: You have to strip down to your shorts.” 

“You’re kidding! Here?” 

I just grin. 

You set your drink down on a table, then begin undressing. It takes a while, since you’re wearing a tux. I sit down and watch, grinning. Finally your shirt comes off. You fling it off stripper-style, and I cheer. Then you hesitate. 

“Waiting for anything?” I ask. 

You take a deep breath, and slide your trousers off, adding them to the pile on a chair. You’re wearing dark blue boxers. 

Wow, I think to myself. This was a really good dare. 

“Part two,” I say, “Dive into the pool.” 

You hesitate again. “How will I get back to my room?” you ask. 

“There are towels here. You’ll be fine. Dive in!” 

You walk to the edge of the pool, hesitate, then do a very athletic dive. A moment later your head appears from the water. 

‘Very nice form,” I say, and I definitely mean it. 

“And part three?” you ask, a little concerned, or pretending to be. 

“Oh, yes, part three…” I say. “Part three…..Part three is, toss me your shorts.” 

“That’s an extreme dare, Julie.” 

“Not as extreme as if you had to take off your underwear and give it to Grandpa,” I say. 

I’ve got you there. 

You slide off your shorts and toss them on the cement. 

I grin, staring at you in the water, unable to quite see anything clearly, but enjoying every moment of trying. 

I pick up your boxers and fling them to the far corner of the pool area. 

Then I pick up my drink. 

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask. 

“Immensely,” I say, sipping and gazing. 

Suddenly there is a noise behind me. 

“Someone’s coming!” I whisper. I move away from the pool. You slide down in the water in a corner, so in the dark you are not very visible. 

“Well, well…look who’s here!” says a male voice. 

I turn and look. It’s Steve. 

“I suppose I should congratulate you on catching the bouquet,” he says, walking toward me. 

“I suppose you should,” I say, backing away. I look at the door. There’s only one door out of the pool area. I quickly plan to draw Steve away from the door, then make a run for it. 

“I had hoped to catch the garter myself,” he says. “I had it, too, but that boyfriend of yours grabbed it out of my hands.” 

“Did he?” I ask, still backing away, playing for time. 

“He did. Now that was very unfair. I was the rightful winner.” 

“I see,” I reply. I turn and start to run for the door, but instantly stop. I can see two of the other groomsmen, Steve’s friends, standing at the door, blocking the exit. 

“And so I think I deserve the spoils.” As I stand frozen, Steve pulls out a cigar and lights it. 

“Beautiful night for a swim,” he says, sitting down and staring at my body in my little strapless dress. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ve got all night.”

8. By Jack

I wade in the dark corner for a moment, listening to your conversation. Fucking Steve, I think, as I hear the smugness in his voice. My brain working over time, what to do? Say something from the pool? Ha, real brave, Jack.    I see the towels towards the other side of the pool. Grab one of those and go punch Steve’s lights out? Might work, and then I get my butt kicked. Suddenly a fight I had in high school with Bill Conner flashes through my head. Damnit, why can’t I think of a fight I actually won at a time like this? Or… I could… Hmm… Might just work… I quietly swim closer to the edge. I see you standing there, arms crossed, trying to cover yourself, looking so uncomfortable, as Steve sits puffing away, his eyes piercing your body with his stare. Seeing you standing there solidifys my course of action. I take a deep breath, reach up, palms on the edge of the pool and making a sound as I pull myself out of the water. All eyes turn to me as I stand up, the water dripping off my naked body as I confidently walk over to you, my nudity causing some discomfort as a look of shock and surprise plays across Steve’s face for a moment. “Hello Steve,” I say with a nod of my head, stepping to your side, putting a wet arm across your shoulder, fingers on your upper arm pulling you closer, “I agree, it is a very beautiful night for a swim.” I smirk at him, “And if you wouldn’t mind, I believe Julie is enjoying HER spoils.” I maintain my smirk at him, feeling my heart pound as I wonder, is this crazy stunt gonna actually work?

9. By Julie

YOUR heart is pounding? What do you think MINE is doing?! 

Well, I believe Steve wanted to see some nudity, but I don’t think this is exactly what he bargained for. 

My eyes were riveted on you as you got out of the pool and walked toward me, but once you put your arm around me, getting me all wet, I looked at Steve’s face. His eyes wandered down to your manhood. I could tell he was….well, as impressed as I was. 

Steve, I had learned, was a master chess player. As I watched his eyes, I could see him analyzing the game. He was a knave, and supported by two pawns he had attacked what he thought was a defenseless queen. But in a surprise move, the king positioned himself next to the queen in defense. So…should he continue the attack? 

“Well, well, it looks like skinny-dipping is the order of the day,” he imagined himself saying. As the pawns detained the king, he would capture the queen. Holding my wrists with one hand, he would pull down my zipper with the other. My dress would fall, and all I’d be wearing would be Michelle’s garter. 

Would the attack work? It would…IF he could count on his pawns not to be afraid that word would get back to the wedding that they had been outside wrestling a naked wet dude. Steve glanced at his foot soldiers, who shuffled their feet and looked uneasy. They had enlisted to share the spoils, but they were hardly paragons of unquestioning loyalty. 

Steve was beaten…for now. “I see you two want some privacy,” he said. “As for me, I promised another bridesmaid the Chicken Dance.” And they withdrew. The pawns went back to the party, but Steve doubled back and found a hidden second-floor maintenance space where he could watch the pool area unseen. 

I stepped back and looked at you, my eyes running down from your face to your chest to your…anatomy. 

“My knight in shining armor,” I said. “Only without the armor.” 

“I think now you REALLY owe my big-time,” you said. 

“BIG…time,” I repeated, distractedly, staring. Then I looked at your face. “What can I ever do to repay you, good knight?” I asked, curtseying. 

I could tell you thought Steve was routed and wouldn’t return. I knew better. I had learned that he was a true sadist, who genuinely enjoyed humiliating people. He was also a chess master, who was imaginative, competitive and hated to lose. 

Whether I liked it or not, the game was on. So far, I had been threatened twice but had held him to a draw. Of course, I had a great ally. 

But in chess, sometimes your greatest strength can also be your biggest vulnerability. If Steve could distract you, detain you, or win you over to his side, I’d be at his mercy. 

And how much could I trust you, really? I barely knew you. What’s more, it wasn’t Steve who got me to give my panties to Grandpa; it was you. It wasn’t Steve who caused me to be on a stage with no underwear, or who slid a garter on my thigh as the guitarist and I wrestled over my hemline; it was you. Could I really trust you? 

Too much to think about, I decided. I would have to figure it out later. For now, I had a very large debt to repay, and I needed to focus on that. 

I finished my curtsey, looked up into your eyes, and awaited my instructions.