Yasmin’s Night at a Frat Party

Yasmin lingered near the edge of the room, fingers curled around a glass of soda she hadn’t touched in ten minutes. Music pulsed, laughter rang out, and yet she felt as if she were behind glass, watching it all happen without quite belonging. At twenty-three, she had no trouble presenting research in a lab meeting. But at a party like this, words seemed to slip away from her.

“Not much of a dancer, huh?”

The voice was warm, teasing without being sharp. She turned and found a tall man with dark, steady eyes watching her. He leaned casually against the wall, but his focus was entirely on her.

Yasmin flushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not really,” she admitted softly. “I’m better with test tubes than dance floors.”

His smile widened. “Test tubes?”

“I’m a biochemist,” she said quickly, then regretted it. Most people didn’t want to hear about enzymes at a party.

But Richard’s expression only brightened. “So that explains it. You spend your days working with chemical reactions… and now you’re standing here avoiding the social ones.”

Yasmin blinked at him, startled into a laugh. “Something like that.”

He straightened a little, still smiling. “Well, maybe I can help you with the social experiment. Want to get out of this room?”

Her heart skipped. Part of her wanted to hide. But another part whispered that she’d regret saying no. After a breath, she nodded. “Okay.”

Richard led her through the crowd with a light touch at her wrist, weaving between groups until they reached a side door. The noise of the main party dulled when he pushed it open. Inside, the lights were low, warmer, and the air thick with something heavier than music.

On a sofa near the wall, a couple was already tangled together, their movements raw and unashamed. Around them, three others stood watching, quiet but intent, their eyes tracking every motion.

Yasmin froze in the doorway, her breath catching. “Oh…”

Richard glanced back at her, his smile gentle, his hand still holding hers. “It’s different in here,” he said softly. “Nobody hides. You don’t have to, either.”

Her pulse raced so hard it hurt, but she couldn’t deny the heat in her chest. Slowly, she nodded.

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of her black hair behind her ear, his voice low enough only she could hear. “Can I take this off you?” His fingers brushed the strap of her dress.

Yasmin swallowed hard, then whispered, “Yes.”

Richard drew the fabric down with unhurried patience, slipping it from her shoulders until it pooled at her feet. She stood trembling, completely bare, her slender, petite frame revealed to every set of eyes in the room. Her blue eyes darted toward the watchers, then back to him, cheeks blazing.

“They’re not judging,” Richard murmured, tilting her chin up. “They’re admiring. Just look at you.”

Yasmin shivered, her body taut with both fear and a strange thrill. She had never felt more exposed or more alive. Richard leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. Not rushed, but steady, coaxing her lips apart until she melted into the kiss. His hands slid along her bare arms, down her sides, tracing the lines of her petite frame. Every touch made her tremble, but she didn’t pull away. She gasped when his palm cupped her breast, thumb brushing lightly over the nipple.