Nine

We walked back into the house, my stomach in nervous knots. I was glad for the disguise, for the layer of protection it gave me. Brad held my hand firmly, guiding me as we moved through the noisy crowd, chatter, laughter and murmurs surrounding us. There were a few long glances, a few friendly smiles, but no one approached us or said anything as we passed, and I was grateful for that. I needed some time to adjust and figure out what was going on. We left the packed foyer and walked down a few steps into a darkened great room. The couches were set at different angles, some facing the windows, some open to the center. A round stage had been set up in the middle of the room, a chrome stripper pole coming out of the middle and stretching all the way to the top of the vaulted ceilings. Two women, both nude, danced on the stage, twirling around the pole and caressing each other. This room had a definite club atmosphere, laser lights creating a harmony of colors on the ceiling and techno music pumping from speakers. A woman untangled herself from a sea of bodies on a couch and stood, walking over to us. She had fire-engine-red hair and wore a black leather mask and matching minidress. I took a discreet peek at her feet and tried not to swoon. Black spiked Louboutins. She gave me a big smile and wrapped Brad in a tight embrace, brushing her hand lightly over his package in the process.

“I’d know this hunk of meat anywhere, even with that creepy hood,” she cooed. Reaching out a hand to me, she gave me a blatant once-over, causing a blush to spread over my face. “I’m Beverly Franklin,” she said, with no trace of snobbery. “I must say, you are utterly gorgeous. Not that I’d expect Brad to show up with anything else,” she added with a grin, squeezing his big arm. “Brad, you go sit down, I’m going to give your friend the grand tour.”

I had a brief recollection of a strip club tour, one that had conveniently pulled me away from Brad a few weeks earlier. My eyes flickered around the room, at the numerous sexual possibilities in front of him. I felt momentary panic at the thought of being alone, away from him, and him away from me. “I, um...” I faltered, looking to Brad for rescue.

“Stick to her, Bev,” he said, stepping backward, his face impossible to read behind the black cloth. “She’s new. Remember that.” He nodded at me and lifted his glass, and I frowned at him, swearing that I could see his shoulders shaking in a laugh. I turned to Beverly and smiled tentatively, downing the rest of my champagne with a strong gulp.

* * *

BEVERLY, THOUGH IN her forties, had an ass like a supermodel’s, and the leather clung to her perfect body as if it had been painted on. She was bubbly and friendly, not the stoic and snobby host I was expecting. She wrapped her arm in mine and navigated us out of the laser-filled great room.

“I didn’t catch your name, sweetie.”

I tensed, my thoughts bumping around in my head until I grasped a hold of a name and blurted it out. “It’s Jessica.” The tattooed makeup artist had unknowingly rescued me.

“Jessica, Brad said you were new. Is this your first party?”

“Yes. At least, of this sort.”

She laughed, a musical giggle that floated away as we walked through the kitchen, a granite-filled masterpiece, full of chefs and shirtless men who were filling hors d’oeuvre platters. Off the kitchen was a hall, and she pulled me down it, the lighting discreet and dim.

“This is what I call the sex hall—there are four bedrooms off it, and if you want to play privately, or with other couples, these rooms are available.” We peeked in the first room and I froze.

A man knelt, na**d and beautiful, his back a chorus of tanned muscles, candles throughout the room creating flickering shadows on his skin. In front of him stood another man, black and na**d, a dark leather mask, similar to Beverly’s, obscuring his face. The black man was huge, Brad’s size, but not as cut or defined as Brad. His c**k was long, dark and in the kneeling man’s mouth. A woman, stunning, dressed in an azure-blue floor-length evening gown and a huge feathered mask, stood on the other side of them. Her elegant attire was contrasted by a leather riding crop, gripped tightly in one hand. As I watched she stepped forward and slapped the kneeling man, hard along the buttocks. Her voice, calm, controlled and authoritative, rang out in the quiet room.

“Suck it harder. All of it.”

The man obliged, and the black man groaned, his legs tightening. I saw a c**k twitch in the darkness and realized the white man was hard. Very hard.

I felt Beverly tugging on me, and I blinked, stepping back, but not before my eyes locked with the woman in the room. She smiled, slowly and securely at me, and then I heard her speak to the men. “Now. Get up, both of you, on the bed. I want you to use those hard cocks on me.”

I tried to stifle a gasp, and followed Beverly, her hand tugging, pulling me to the next room. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I felt my panties sticking to me, wetness pooling.

Ten

Brad leaned against the wall, obscured by the shadows, invisible. He watched the two women walk away, watched Julia, her face as she looked in one of the bedrooms with Beverly. He saw her expression change and wondered what she saw. Maybe it had been a mistake bringing her here. Maybe she wasn’t ready.

Movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn and he watched as a girl entered the room. Alone, wearing white, her face covered with a veil. Even in the dim light he could see through the sheer fabric of her dress, erect ni**les and bare skin underneath, nothing else. She was nervous, tentative. She gripped a glass of white wine tightly in her hand and looked around the room. He stood upright and moved out of the shadows, his steps sure and confident.

* * *

“I’M SORRY, WHAT did you ask?” I had missed whatever Beverly had said, my mind still filled with images from the first room.

“I was saying that we decorated the four bedrooms in color themes—kind of to fit different fetishes. Me, myself, I just like straight sex with different men. I don’t travel too far outside that box. But I like watching all sorts of things. That room back there was the red room.”

I nodded, vaguely remembering that the room had a red theme—dark red walls, cream carpet, red lamps and bed coverings. In another world it might be considered designer disaster, but in this setting, it fit the mood of excess.

“This next room is the blue room. I find more mellow couples tend to use this area,” she whispered, pushing the door open farther. We peered in.

Now, aware of the color schemes, I noticed the room itself first. It sported robin’s-egg pale blue walls, white furnishings, and large abstract art on the walls. There was discreet uplighting, but the room was mostly lit by candles. Two couples occupied this room, one on the bed and one on the floor, cushioned by large pillows. Both couples seemed to be caressing and kissing each other, hands gently moving everywhere. We moved on, me needing less encouragement this time.

The black room was next. “Whips and chains?” I asked, reading into the color choice.

“Not here,” she laughed. “S and M is a whole other culture, one we don’t participate in. Not because we don’t agree with it. It just has its own groups and parties. What you saw in the first room—that’s as dominant as it gets here. The black room is mostly for GB stuff. It’s the largest guest bedroom we have.”

I didn’t have a chance to ask what GB stood for, and didn’t need to, once we peered in. Six men surrounded one girl. She was voluptuous, with large natural breasts, a soft but slim stomach and wide hips. She was bent over, on a large bed, two men at her feet, one in her pussy, another in her ass. She screamed, loud and in pleasure, and they both moved in unison, f**king her deeply, then pulling slowly out. She supported her body with one hand, and used the other to jack off a skinny man who knelt, na**d, before her. The other men touched her, squeezing her breasts, smacking her ass or waiting impatiently for a chance at her mouth. Everywhere I looked in the room, there was movement, skin-on-skin, mouth-on-skin, and sounds filled the space. Slaps, moans, muttered phrases.

I watched, transfixed, as the woman came, long and loudly, her body shaking with the exertion and clear juice squirting from her pussy. The man who had been f**king her, a thin man with a c**k like a f**king Clydesdale’s, swore in amazement at her gushing pu**y and pulled out, using his fingers to finish her off. He wore a dark green mask, and pulled the mask up to get a better view. His handsome face was filled with desire and wonder and sex, and I felt sudden familiarity, as I realized that my emotions matched his. What was I doing? Standing here gaping! I had an image of what I must look like and turned away suddenly, ending the view of the room and my hidden fantasy.

* * *

KATE WAS RUSSIAN, in the States on a six-month visa. A visa that could be extended if her boss—and sponsor—Mr. Gunter, agreed to continue her employment and fill out the necessary paperwork. Mr. Gunter had strongly suggested that Kate accompany him tonight. Her hesitancy at his request had displeased him, and the request had turned into a demand, complete with consequences if she did not comply. So she had yielded, and now here she was.

Earlier she had stood in front of him, na**d, washed thoroughly by his staff, and he had picked out this outfit, a ridiculous white mesh dress that showed every part of her, and a white veil that did nothing to disguise her young face. He had dressed her, slowly, touching her skin and groping her curves as he pulled the material over her body. He had not tried to have sex with her. Not yet. But tonight must be the night. Here, at this party, where Americans were ha**g s*x everywhere, on couches, in pools, against the wall right next to her. She saw movement in the shadows; then a hulk of a man appeared, stepping into the light.

He had impossibly broad shoulders and muscular arms that his expensive dress shirt couldn’t hide. Standing, silent and sure, he looked straight at her, waiting. She took a few steps forward, tentative, wanting to see more but needing to be closer to do it. He turned slightly and was fully illuminated by the light.

He wore a black hood, simple dark loose fabric with two eyeholes cut out. She wasn’t sure if it was the hood or his body, but danger radiated from this man. His eyes, the only part of his face she could see, were dark brown pools of sexual intensity, blatant arousal in them. She paused, scared of him and the sexual heat that emulated from him, even with ten feet between them. Then she felt a hand on her back.

Mr. Gunter’s voice purred in her ear and she stiffened, closing her eyes briefly. Thin hands ran down the sides of her body and then moved up her front, squeezing her br**sts and massaging them. She opened her eyes, looking into the eyes of the hooded stranger briefly, then looked away, ashamed, her lip trembling. She tried to be strong, tried not to cry. The hands moved up and gripped her neck, turning her face, and she felt Mr. Gunter’s pursed lips on hers.

* * *

I WHIRLED, RUNNING into Beverly’s big breasts, our faces almost colliding, and she took a step back with a wince. “Sorry,” I whispered. “Are you okay?” The girl’s squirting pu**y was imprinted in my mind, and I clenched my legs together, wanting Brad here, now, instantly.

“Sure,” she said slowly, looking at me intently. “Is this too weird for you? It can be a lot to take in—”

“No,” I interrupted her, shaking my head and trying to smile. “I like it here. I just remembered something I wanted to ask Brad about.”

She shrugged. “Okay. You don’t need to see the last room. I can just tell you about it.” She looped her arm through mine and leaned close, her breast touching me. “It’s called the snack room, and is a lot of fun to visit during the party. It has lots of fun food you can eat off each other, or you can lie on the buffet table and have everyone nibble and lick things off you.”

I smiled politely, trying to listen but not able to get my mind off the woman in ecstasy and the circle of hard, waiting cocks.

The bedroom hall led back to the crowded foyer, and as we eased through, Beverly was stopped by several people. I finally leaned to her and whispered in her ear that I would see her later. She nodded gratefully to me and started chatting up a couple by the bar. I moved quickly through the crowd, avoiding eye contact and beelining for the great room. I stopped at the entrance, my eyes adjusting to the change in lighting, trying to find Brad in the dark, pulsating, room.

I saw him, alone by the window, huge and imposing, and felt a flood of relief. He was watching a couple on the couch—a young blonde with an older man—Brad’s eyes unreadable but dark. I quickly walked to him, and he slid an arm around my waist, pulling me to him.

“How was the tour?”

“Good. Interesting.”

“Good. Interesting,” he mocked, his hand trailing down my hip, teasing the skin at the bottom of my dress.

“Stop that,” I muttered, trying not to lean into his touch. “Yes, it was interesting. Beverly is very sweet.” A breath caught in my throat as his hand traveled higher, pushing up my hem. His attention was focused on me, thoughts of everything else disappearing, and the intensity was unnerving. “Why don’t we find a private place and—”

He grabbed me, shoving me hard against the wall, yanking my dress up till my lace panties were exposed, and spread my legs expertly with his knees. I sputtered a protest, but all that came out were whispered curses, my desire to not draw attention to us overriding my need to get him to keep his f**king hands to himself.

“Why don’t we skip the private place?” he said, his voice strong in my ear.

He slid two fingers in me, his eyes flickering at my soaked wetness, his fingers moving in and out, his thumb gently making delicious circles around my clit, the sheer fabric increasing the pleasure. I protested, quietly but fervently, but my words dropped off and my legs weakened. Sagging, I let my head drop back as I entered an unworldly plane of pleasure and arousal. He pulled on my dress, sliding the red fabric off my shoulders, and I felt the silky material fall away from my skin, leaving my br**sts exposed, my ni**les puckering in the open air. I looked around desperately, worried about who might see. My eyes met with one man, then two, who watched with aroused interest before my head dropped back and I felt an orgasm hovering.