Fauxmance

by L.H. Cosway

My mouth hovered mere inches above hers before I blinked myself out of the swell of desire.

  “You should probably finish getting ready if we don’t want to be late,” I said, my voice croaky.

  Ellen nodded hastily and stepped away. “Yes, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  I felt out of sorts, and that was not usual for me. I wasn’t the type of person who flustered easily, but Ellen (not Elodie) was getting under my skin.

  She was everything I never sought in a partner, and yet, getting to know her, peeling away her unexpected layers, was my new obsession. She’d pulled me in with the ruse of Elodie, who embodied the sort of woman I normally chased. Then the curtain fell to reveal something far more enthralling beneath.

  By the time she was ready, I’d just about gotten my perplexing feelings under control. As our taxi approached the large, period home in Hampstead Heath that belonged to the Suttons, I studied Ellen’s reaction. She was in full costume, but I couldn’t seem to see her as Elodie anymore. She was just…her. For me, Elodie and Ellen were one and the same. A kaleidoscope of a single fascinating person.

  “Big house,” she commented quietly.

  “Lots of bedrooms, I imagine.”

  She appeared to swallow, and I suspected her nerves were again getting the best of her. This was by far the most intimidating party we’d attended yet, and we hadn’t even gone inside. When the car pulled to a stop, I paid the driver and got out, going around to Ellen’s side and taking her hand. She held on tight.

  We were welcomed by a butler and two maids. I leaned close to Ellen and whispered, “It’s just like Downton Abbey, except you get body searched before you can come inside.” The butler checked Ellen’s bag for any recording devices, then one of the maids searched her body, while I underwent the same treatment.

  She gave a soft laugh. “I’m pretty sure whatever we’re about to walk into isn’t going to be anything like Downton Abbey.”

  “The X-rated version perhaps?”

  She shook her head at me as the butler took our coats and handed us each a lacy, Venetian style mask. I put mine on then helped Ellen with hers before we were led into a large dining room. There must’ve already been twenty people there. They all wore half masks, too, but even so, I recognised some famous personalities. Ellen seemed a little awestruck as she took it all in.

  “I always tried to tell myself that behind the glitz and glamour, celebrities probably live boring, jaded lives, but I’m starting to think that isn’t true,” she whispered.

  “Depends on the celebrity.”

  “Have you ever slept with a famous person?” she went on, still whispering.

  I glanced down at her, my expression wry. “One or two.”

  “Really? Who?”

  I suspected she was trying to distract herself from her nerves, so I indulged her this once. “Have you heard of Alicia Davidson?”

  She stared at me, mouth agape. “Are you freaking serious? She’s like, one of the most beautiful women in the world.”

  “Yes well, everybody poops.”

  She scrunched up her face at my response and I chuckled. “You’ll no longer be in awe of beauty if you imagine the person taking a dump. It’s a scientific fact.”

  “I don’t want to imagine any of these people doing a number two, thank you very much,” Ellen replied before Krystyna approached.

  “Elodie, Julian, so lovely to see you both,” she said, her smile somewhat predatory. I understood why when she walked up to Ellen, placed a hand on each of her shoulders, then kissed her right on the mouth—with tongue. Ellen blinked in shock and I couldn’t help my grin.

  It was certainly one way to initiate her into the party.

  I knew I’d promised her I wouldn’t let any men make untoward advances, but I hadn’t anticipated it would be a lady I had to look out for.

  Krystyna turned to me and gave me the exact same kiss on the mouth. I wasn’t quite as shell-shocked as Ellen, as I’d been expecting it. I imagined that’s what thrilled Krystyna, the fact she could shock people with her sexuality. I’d gone through a similar phase during my twenties.

  “You two are our guests of honour tonight. Come and let me introduce you to everyone.”

  “Sure,” Ellen finally spoke, but she still seemed a little out of it. Was that the first time she’d kissed a woman? The colour in her cheeks, and the way her chest rose and fell, sent a swell of desire directly to my groin.

  This party was certainly going to be interesting. Though I had a feeling my attention would be all for my lovely date and not for any of the other attendees. And at a swingers party no less. How very ironic.

  First Krystyna introduced us to a well-known TV actress who’d recently won a Bafta, and her husband, who was a strikingly handsome executive. He took Ellen’s hand and kissed it, and I noticed her swallow nervously, her nostrils flare. Again, I enjoyed her reaction, though a part of me wished to be the one eliciting it.

  “Elodie, I hope I’ll see more of you later,” he murmured into the kiss.

  Normally, I was all about the free love, but tonight my possessive streak was coming out. It was coming out more and more around Ellen.

  We were introduced to several more couples before my eyes landed on a familiar face. I just couldn’t seem to shake Warren Gold these days. He approached us, a different lady on his arm tonight. Thankfully, she wasn’t an ex-client, but a famous singer. She looked young. Too young for him. I knew for a fact Warren was pushing forty, even though he’d been telling everyone he was thirty-five for years.

  “Julian, we have to stop meeting like this,” he said, all white teeth and bronze tan.

  “I can see you’ve been enjoying the Majorca sun,” I replied.

  “I just got back a few days ago. I miss it already, though London does have its charms,” he said, casting his gaze on Ellen. He took her hand, kissing it just like her previous admirer. “I’m so pleased to see you again, beautiful Elodie, and in such an opportune setting.”

  I wanted to punch him. The only saving grace was that the singer on his arm was eyeing me appreciatively. Warren noticed, too. I could tell by the slight twitch of his jaw that it bothered him. Still, I slid my arm around Ellen’s waist and pulled her to me, just to make my point clear. Warren would not be putting his hands on her tonight. Or ever.

  She gasped quietly at how tight I held her. I turned my attention to Warren’s date.

  “I’m Julian.”

  I held out my hand and she took it, giggling when she replied, “Rebecca.”

  We shook hands, but before I could say anything more, there was the clink of silverware on glass. Branson Sutton stood at the head of the long dining table. He wore a dark shirt, the first few buttons undone.

  “I’d like to welcome you all to our humble home tonight. The chef will be serving a menu of grilled figs, veal, and for dessert, well, I’m sure we would all prefer to indulge in other pleasures.”

  There was some low laughter before he continued, “I see some old faces and some new. I hope tonight lives up to every one of your expectations, for there is no higher pleasure in life than to seek the ultimate divinity of our flesh.”

  I leaned in to whisper in Ellen’s ear. “Somebody thinks they’re in Eyes Wide Shut.”

  I saw her try to stifle her laughter, and I inhaled her sweet scent. Coconut. Always coconut. “Does seem a little much,” she whispered back.

  “I can’t wait to watch him have sex. I bet he makes sure there’s always a mirror nearby.”

  She let out a small titter then clasped her hand over her mouth. We took seats side by side at the dining table, and I endeavoured not to grit my teeth when Warren pulled out a chair on the other side of Ellen.

  Just like in a period drama, a line of servers came and placed our fig starter down in front of us. I had to admit, I appreciated the pomp and ceremony. There was nothing worse than showing up to an orgy that turned out to be in a grotty bedsit, a bottle of cheap, week-old sauvignon blanc the only available
refreshment.

  I may have come from impoverished beginnings, but as soon as I started to earn money, I’d acquainted myself with the finer things in life.

  “My favourite,” Warren said in a silky voice as he leered at Ellen, picked up a fig and popped it in his cartoonishly handsome mouth. I absently wondered if he used lip fillers.

  “Fresh figs are always a treat,” I agreed, plucking one from Ellen’s plate and holding it to her mouth. She took my flirtation in stride, making eye contact as her soft lips met my fingers. She ate it right out of my hand, sending a jolt of arousal directly to my cock.

  I flicked my gaze to Warren, my expression steely. It all worked to communicate a blaringly loud she’s mine without any need to say the words.

  All through the starter and main course, Warren tried to ingratiate himself with Ellen, and I successfully cockblocked him at every turn. Ellen didn’t appear interested in him, and it pleased me that she saw through his act. Irritated that he couldn’t get anywhere with my date, Warren turned his glacial gaze to me.

  “How is Rose doing these days, Julian? I was always fond of her.”

  She’s happily engaged to a movie star and living on a remote Scottish island, far away from you.

  “She’s well,” I replied congenially, not providing any details.

  “Please tell her I was asking for her,” he went on, sipping smugly on his wine.

  I didn’t know why he felt smug, since he’d never actually gotten anywhere with Rose. It was a typical Warren style head game. I held my tongue and ate a slice of veal. The food was delicious, but I would’ve enjoyed it more in better company. As people finished their meals, they started to leave the dining room, partnering off in search of private nooks around the house.

  I rose from my chair and held my hand out to Ellen. Relief flashed in her eyes. I knew she feared being approached by another attendee and propositioned. Like I said, Ellen was a people watcher. I sensed she wanted to be here to observe how the attendees interacted, witness how the whole thing played out.

  It would take time before she felt comfortable taking part. These sorts of sexual exploits were something one worked up to. You didn’t just go from ordinary, everyday sex to swinging. It was a gradual process, which was why I wouldn’t allow her to do anything tonight that she wasn’t comfortable with.

  There was also the fact I felt possessive of her, but that was something I tried not to delve into too much.

  I led her to a cushioned window box just off the dining room. We sat down, and from our vantage point, you could see directly into the study, where a man and two women were entering into foreplay. The man kissed one woman’s neck, while the other woman started to unbutton his shirt. When Ellen saw what I was seeing, her eyes got big and she glanced away.

  “Are we supposed to be watching this?”

  “They would’ve closed the door if they hadn’t been hoping for an audience,” I replied, studying her reaction. Her breathing quickened as she bit her lip. “Voyeurism is a large part of all this. In fact, some people like to watch and nothing more.”

  “Oh. That’s…interesting.”

  I enjoyed the physical responses she gave off. She continued to bite her lip, eyes flicking to the scene in front of us and then away. Despite her persona as Elodie, she was a fish out of water.

  The man, shirtless now, spread one woman out on the desk. He pushed up her skirt, pulled down her underwear and proceeded to eat her out. Ellen emitted a quiet, startled noise, but her gaze never left the scene. She shifted in place, squeezed her thighs together and let out a long, shaky breath.

  I wanted to touch her.

  Without thinking, I reached out and pushed her hair over her shoulder, revealing her smooth neck. The urge to kiss her right in that hollow curve was maddening. I leaned close, then whispered in her ear, “Do you like watching them?”

  She didn’t respond right away, goose bumps rising on her skin, then said, “I think so.”

  I sat back. “Then we’ll stay.”

  She appeared disappointed when I didn’t touch her again, which was expected. Watching the threesome, she was aroused. She wanted someone to soothe her aches, but I didn’t trust myself to stop once I started.

  The other woman let her dress drop to the floor, her eyes on the two as she removed her underwear. She sat down on a velvet armchair, spread her legs wide and began stroking herself.

  “Oh, my God,” Ellen whispered.

  My pants tightened, which wasn’t surprising, though I wasn’t very interested in the threesome. It was how Ellen reacted that turned me on. A flush rose on her chest, the dress revealing a healthy dose of cleavage that I could hardly take my eyes off.

  The woman pleasuring herself produced a dildo from a nearby handbag and plunged it inside herself. The man tongued the other woman’s clit and her moans of ecstasy trickled out into the hallway. She opened her eyes, saw that Ellen and I were watching, and smiled in pleasure. She’d definitely hoped for an audience.

  Ellen’s voice was croaky when she spoke. “Have you seen anyone you like?”

  Only you.

  I levelled my gaze on her, hoping she got my meaning. “Perhaps.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Who?”

  I grinned coyly and wagged my finger. “Now that would be telling.”

  As though a force was pulling on her, she looked back to the threesome. How I wished I could feel what she was feeling right now. When I was young and new to sex, I was like a kid in a candy shop. It became an addiction, just like most things for me, and I couldn’t get enough. Over time, it took more and more to excite me.

  But Ellen wasn’t jaded like I was. She was looking at it all with fresh eyes and I absorbed her experience like a man drowning of thirst.

  The woman pleasuring herself came loudly. I loved how intently focused Ellen was, like she’d never seen someone bring themselves to orgasm before. The man turned his attention to her, stripping off his pants to reveal a large, throbbing erection. He fisted himself, pumped up and down, then climbed atop the woman and shoved himself inside her.

  Ellen sighed.

  I wanted to swallow it. I wanted to absorb every little thing she felt. I wanted to push inside her, make her sigh with my cock.

  The man fucked the woman hard and fast. The other woman, who was lying on the desk, fingered herself now, pinching one nipple and then the other.

  Ellen exhaled heavily. “I think we should probably leave.”

  My mouth curved. “Why? They’ve just gotten started.”

  She rubbed the goose pimples on her arm. “It just feels…”

  “Lewd? Naughty? Arousing?” I provided.

  She frowned, cheeks rosy, then said, “Invasive, too.”

  “I already told you, they want to be watched.”

  “Yes, but, it’s a little frustrating.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Would you like to join them?”

  “No!” she blurted, then lowered her voice to a whisper again, “I’m just a bit conflicted.”

  Now I grinned. “You mean horny?”

  Her face showed embarrassment. “Okay, yes. I’m horny,” she said in the quietest voice imaginable.

  Impulsively, I took her hand and pulled her up. “Come with me.”

  I led her upstairs, peeking in several rooms (where lots of sex was happening) before I found an empty bathroom. I closed the door behind us then lifted her up onto the counter by the sink.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Open your legs.”

  “Julian!”

  My voice held a low edge as I spoke in her ear. “I just want to help you, Ellen.”

  She swallowed at my use of her real name and I palmed her thighs, gently pushing them apart so I could stand between them. I took her hand in mine, then lowered it to the fabric of her underwear. “Are you wet?” I asked, my voice soft, intimate.

  She closed her eyes, throat bobbing as she swallowed, then nodded.

  “I can’t hear you,”
I prodded and bit gently on her earlobe.

  “Y-yes,” she breathed.

  “Feel yourself,” I urged, guiding her fingers past the elastic of her underwear. She didn’t resist, but I felt her hand shake a little. I was rapt, taking all of her in. I saw her uncertainty and endeavoured to reassure her.

  “Make yourself feel good.”

  My hand was over her knickers, coaxing her fingers to move. I knew the moment she properly touched herself because a small whimper escaped her. The tiny sound thrilled me. I moved my hand, pressed it tight to her. I was going to come in my pants when she moved her fingers in circles over her clit.

  “That’s it,” I whispered, frustrated by her closed eyelids. I wanted to see what she looked like when she orgasmed.

  She moaned and buried her face in my neck. I relished the feel of her lips when they brushed my skin, but I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or if she was simply lost in the moment.

  My hand yearned to join hers, but that wasn’t what this was about. Her pleasure was my pleasure. “Julian,” she said, voice strangled. Her hand stilled as several tremors shook her body. She gripped my shirt as she came, her hot breath on my neck, her thighs clenching around my hips. I was hard as a rock, but I wasn’t frustrated. Delayed gratification was a heady thing.

  When she finally drew away from me, her eyes were round as saucers. A million thoughts flickered across her face, like she was talking herself around in circles in her head.

  “Feel better?” I asked. She looked away, flushed.

  She stared at a bar of fancy soap by the sink, then spoke quietly, “I want to hire you.”

  I blinked at her, frowned, then replied, “You want to what?”

  She seemed to steel herself. “As an escort. I want to pay you to have sex with me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellen

  As soon as I saw his expression, I knew I shouldn’t have said it. Julian looked stunned at first, then offended, then he just seemed pissed.

  I hopped down off the bathroom counter and spoke in a nervous ramble. “Um, forget I said that. I didn’t mean it. It was a moment of temporary insanity.”