The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 11

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “This is why,” Raine said. She lifted her fingers to reveal a thin wand-like instrument. It looked delicate, but unfinished. The metal lacked shine and there was a peculiar tilt to the base of the device that suggested it had been damaged at some point.

  Leonie stared at the wand, then met Raine’s dark eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  Raine flicked the wand on with a small gesture, and a pinprick of light shone from a point on the barrel. “This is going to sting a bit,” she said. “But you must hold still.”

  Leonie stiffened, fear ricocheting up her spine. She froze as the device moved closer to her. The words that Jenny had written her reverberated through her memory. Obey all instructions, she’d said, and so Leonie would. Because Jenny had asked her to, and Jenny asked her to do so little.

  She’d expected something less scientific.

  Heat and pressure threatened the backs of her eyes again, but Leonie pushed the unwelcome reaction back. Now wasn’t the time for emotion, though she supposed that she was mourning Jenny, in a way. She hoped that Jenny was, wherever she was now that she’d left the world they’d shared, happy that she’d come to the hotel.

  The so-called “sting” nearly sent her to her knees, but she kept still as fire flared across the back of her hand and then up and across her body. Her heart thumped, her breath came unsteadily.

  “It’s done,” the other woman said finally, moving to a bag Leonie hadn’t noticed previously and putting the wand away.

  Unceremoniously, Leonie sank to the carpet. She stared up at Raine. “What did you do?”

  Raine stuck her hand out, grabbed Leonie’s when she bewilderedly offered it, and hauled her to her feet with a yank. “Welcome to Freedom,” she said.

  “Sounds ominous,” Leonie said, her voice thin as her breathing evened out.

  “Be proud. Not many qualify to enter our little club,” Raine said. “Jenny argued long and hard to get you involved. I hope you don’t betray her dedication.”

  The thought made Leonie’s stomach churn. “I won’t.”

  Raine lifted her brows, but didn’t respond.

  Leonie held her tongue, though it was no small feat.

  “So, Freedom. A club, a very private club. Also a state of mind, of course. One that we dedicate ourselves to. One we work very hard to achieve. An outlook, a possibility, that Jenny very much wanted you to experience.” Raine sat on the edge of the room’s sprawling bed, sinking into the plush cover and the soft mattress. “It is unfortunate that she could not be with us to see your awakening, but this is all the more meaningful because it was, truly, her last real desire.”

  She had the sudden realization that whatever was happening was so far beyond simply Jenny and her, beyond a gift, even one extended – however unintentionally – after death.

  She suddenly felt small, and the mysterious experiences that lay ahead of her were rewritten as solemn, sanctified rituals dedicated to Jenny herself.

  The lingering annoyance at the sting of whatever the wand had done evaporated.

  “Explain this to me,” she said. Whatever it was, she was going to do it, and whole-heartedly.

  The explanation Raine launched into was long. A group that had conceived an idea so against the core concepts of the society that Leonie lived in that had her invitation proceeded in any other way . . . As it was, the thought of what had been done – the very idea of turning off her interface – made her stomach churn with apprehension.

  What if someone found out? What if something happened to her?

  The implications of Jenny’s death – the mysteries that Leonie had shoved to the side and ignored – leaped out with all their possibilities. If her interface had been disabled . . .

  “She died here,” she said finally.

  “Not here, exactly,” Raine said slowly, eyes skittering away from Leonie’s face, “but at a similar gathering.”

  Leonie licked her dry lips, swallowed. “So, what’s next?” she asked.

  “Next? Well. Next, you change.”

  “Most find that creating a persona helps one to relax and enjoy the experience all the more,” Raine explained. She’d produced clothing and cosmetics with the clear expectation that Leonie pick from among the offerings.

  “OK.” Jenny, Leonie thought, this was all for Jenny. The oddness, the confusion, the discomfort of this new situation. “Hallie. My name will be Hallie.”

  It had been Jenny’s middle name.

  Raine nodded. Leonie thought her expression held a sense of approval. Perhaps she knew the source of the name.

  They picked a pink dress, and pink paint for her eyes, and a hair ornament with a huge feather and a set of jet-coloured beads that mimicked the high fashion of ten years past with their dip across her forehead.

  Leonie – Hallie – looked in the mirror.

  She had never seen the woman in the mirror before. The woman who wore such bright colours and stood with such poise and attitude. It wasn’t Leonie who stood in front of that mirror.

  Hallie. She tasted the name in her mouth, rolled it around and set it to the face before her.

  “Don’t forget the shoes.” Raine proffered a pair of teeteringly high heels. Hallie slipped them onto her feet.

  “You’re ready,” Raine said.

  She led Hallie to the stairwell at the end of the hallway, opened the door and ushered her in. They climbed four flights of stairs in near silence. All Hallie could hear were the clicks of her heels and Raine’s on the concrete stairs and the swish of the feathers that decorated the neckline of her dress.

  The floor that they exited onto was, physically, nearly identical to the one they’d left behind, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t a feeling that Hallie could put her finger on – something about the way the air moved, maybe, or perhaps something about the whispers almost beyond her range of hearing.

  “For tonight, this is Freedom,” Raine said. “And, this is where I leave you. Explore. Enjoy. You have eight hours before your circuits unscramble themselves.” She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Hallie’s lips, then slid a fond hand to her cheek. “Do Jenny proud.”

  And then she stepped forward, and was gone.

  The woman’s disappearance was initially disconcerting, but Hallie quickly figured out what had happened. She looked back at the stairwell door, then forward to the non-reality that her eyes were seeing.

  She stepped forward, and found herself in chaos.

  What had looked like a normal floor of hotel rooms was, in fact, a carved-out area of openness, full of people and temporary dividers and lights and sound.

  Raine had said to explore. And so she would.

  Hallie turned heads, here and there, but most were engrossed in their own affairs and couldn’t, evidently, be bothered with a new girl wandering through their ranks.

  Or they’d been told to ignore her. Maybe all new people. Maybe the very inattention paid her was yet another aspect of this “Freedom”. It certainly was a different feeling, the thought that those she was walking with knew nothing about her, and worse, that she knew nothing about them. That even a burning curiosity couldn’t be resolved, should it arise.

  That trust was something that actually arose from personal interaction.

  OK, she admitted as she walked between two tables of people, one a group of four playing cards, the other a handful of people seated at a table of foods such as she’d rarely seen, everyone had clearly been vetted somehow. There was definitely thought and work put into who was accepted into this society, otherwise it wouldn’t have taken Jenny so long, as Raine had implied, to get her invited.

  So there was a safety net, but there was also the unknown.

  It was very nearly terrifying.

  At least, she was pretty sure that was the proper description of what she was feeling. She had never felt this way before – her chest felt tight, her head pounded with the rush of blood going through it, and her mouth was unbearably dry. And, as she overcame her initial nervousness,
excitement infused her. Her nipples were hard as gems, buried in the thick fabric of her bodice. Beneath the ruffled, lace-edged skirt her thighs were warm and humid, the unmistakable cream of her desire a reality she was all too aware of.

  And there was sex everywhere.

  Though she wasn’t a virgin, or anywhere near inexperienced, the gyrations and manipulations that she saw were beyond arousing. The sexuality on display in the room was different somehow than anything she’d ever seen or imagined.

  She longed to be a part of it.

  “Here, you look parched,” a male voice said.

  Hallie turned, took in the man who held out a glass towards her. Tall, dark-haired, dressed all in black. Portions of his face were obscured with a black mask.

  Her heart rate slammed into overdrive. “Thank you,” she managed, and took the glass he proffered.

  His eyes were fixed on her as she drank. It was disconcerting, but somehow thrilling. She drained the glass in three sips, then held it, at a loss.

  He took it from her with a smile, set it on a nearby table, then hooked an arm around her waist and leaned in close. “No need to look lost,” he said. “Everyone here was new once.”

  “I will introduce you,” he said. A twist that might have been a smile, could she have seen the full range of the motion, curved his lips. Gently pressing on her waist, he steered her away from a crowd of people and towards a relatively quiet corner of the room.

  Everything blurred. People, faces, hands, objects . . .

  It wasn’t a chemical reaction, or perhaps more correctly wasn’t an exotic chemical reaction, Hallie thought. No, what she was feeling was purely natural, her own body reacting in this new, exciting place, the emotions that filled her, the things she saw, smelled, wanted.

  And she wanted everything.

  “Take your time,” her masked escort counselled. “It will all be here next time, and the time after that, and so on. No need to gorge yourself in one sitting.”

  Hallie suspected that if she engaged in half the decadent indulgences that she suddenly knew that she wanted to, indigestion would be the least of her worries. As it was, just looking at the things that people were doing was enough to send her head spinning.

  But underneath it all was Jenny.

  Memories swept Hallie away, brought forth the anger, the longing that Leonie felt so deeply. Leonie was lost in the room, anchored only by her loyalty to the woman she’d so loved. Hallie fought to reclaim her equilibrium, to push back Leonie’s stifling feelings and immerse herself in the experience that had been Jenny’s dream for her to live.

  Her escort misread her confusion and sadness, for he laid a comforting hand on her arm and pulled her close to his body in a wildly inappropriate physical gesture. “You will have your chance, don’t worry.”

  She tried to focus on the possibilities in his words over the weight of Leonie’s thoughts haunting the back of her mind. “So once I’m in, I’m in?”

  He nodded, the sleek black mask that covered his face sliding ever so slightly. He reached up to adjust it. “No probationary period for us, I’m afraid. You’re either in or out. And you’re in.”

  As was completely evident.

  “So, what exactly do people usually do? To start out, that is?”

  “Well,” her masked man turned them so that her back was to a corner and he blocked most of the room from her view, “most people start with little pleasures. Work their way in.”

  “Ah. To avoid the whole gorging.” Hallie nodded sagely.

  “No,” the black-masked man corrected her, “so that one’s first experiences can be properly enjoyed.”

  “It’s an encouraged method?” Hallie asked.

  “Indeed,” the black-masked man said. He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Hallie’s wrist. The heat of his touch both excited and dismayed her. He slid his fingers up her wrist, lifting her arm to his shoulder. The slow glide of his fingers on her skin was electrifying, but she felt blind. Usually the web of her interface would be burbling away small acceptances, registering temperature changes and such. Instead there was stark silence. The only things she could hear were the rush of her own breath and the pounding of her heart. The black-masked man who was causing such internal chaos showed no sign of similar physical reaction.

  It was most annoying.

  Somehow Hallie couldn’t force herself to move. She didn’t want to push him away, not really. Beyond that, however, she was lost. She was paralysed by a horrible lack of information – what would please him, what would displease him? Usually when she embarked on a physical relationship she had all that information up front.

  And now she had nothing.

  The man turned his head, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her wrist. Restless desire slid through her. He leaned closer, and Hallie felt the rough brush of his mask against her skin right before his lips touched her skin.

  “So that’s feeling,” she forced out. “What about touching. Can I explore touching?”

  Her eyes were drawn to his soft-looking lips. She wanted to feel them against her own in a heavy kiss. What would he taste like?

  She found out swiftly, as the man slanted his mouth over hers and slid his tongue against her lips then between them as she opened her mouth, helpless against the electricity of the touch. He was a stranger, someone she knew nothing about, could get nothing from. He was a dark cipher, another in a room of mysterious people who she wouldn’t know if she passed them on the street – or worked in the same office as they did.

  It was a phenomenal turn-on.

  He pulled away slowly and she leaned into him, wanting more. It was new and different and something that she never could have imagined. Chest tight, she eyed him. Was he breathing a bit faster? Was that a slight flush of arousal on his cheeks?

  “Would you like to make love?”

  She almost laughed, after she’d processed the question. He asked it casually, as if he’d asked her to pass him a paper, or as if he were excusing himself after he’d bumped into her while passing on the street. Despite that, the simple question reignited the fire between her legs, and set her heart pounding. Desire shivered across her body, goose bumps breaking out in the wake of the feeling. More than anything, she wanted to make love with the mysterious masked man.

  “Yes,” she answered, breathlessly. She tried for a matching insouciant response but she didn’t feel as if she’d succeeded in hitting that note. Nevertheless, he curved his arm around her waist and pulled her away from the corner, towards a section of the room curtained off by opaque screens.

  They stepped between two of the screens and into a world of their own. A low bed was made up with brilliant purple sheets and through some mechanical trick the bright lighting that had pervaded the rest of the open space was dimmed and softened to something almost romantic, and definitely intimate.

  Welcoming.

  His arms closed around her, and then he was kissing her again. She gave herself to the feeling. Pleasure, he’d said. The goal of Freedom was pleasure.

  And pleasure was what he gave.

  Undressing became an act of seduction, fingers and flitting, buttons carefully unbuttoned, zippers incrementally unzipped. Slowly, inch by inch, smooth flesh was revealed. A shoulder gleamed pearlescent in the light, a golden bicep flexed, muscles moving smoothly. Movements followed by heated kisses and lingering caresses, they bared each other to the coolness and the light. In the end, the only articles that remained between them were the mask that he wore and the body-warmed beads that peppered her collarbone.

  Hallie looked her fill.

  He was magnificent, muscled and toned and very clearly aroused. Her eyes fastened on his penis. His erection, proof positive of his desire, fascinated her. She couldn’t quantify his reaction through the interface, leaving her feeling blind and strangely virginal. The slickness between her legs was far from virginal, though. She knew exactly what she wanted, and felt no shyness about her cravings.

&
nbsp; She took his penis firmly. She liked men’s erections, liked the heated hardness, the throbbing pulse of an arousal. Liked that an erection was for her, that it reflected desire for her body, her self. And this erection reflected that desire with more truth than any fed by an interface’s biochecks and verifications, she realized with a thrill. This erection was one hundred per cent honest and true and needy.

  Responsive excitement shot through her, tightening her breasts and belly. She rubbed her thighs together. The ache between them intensified, and the musky smell of her desire drifted between them.

  She craved a taste of him, leaned to wrap her lips around his length but was halted by his hands on her shoulders, pulling her upwards.

  “Not now,” he said. “This isn’t just for my pleasure.”

  She wanted to protest, to argue that giving him pleasure would give her pleasure, but the platitude wouldn’t emerge from her lips. Touching him would give her pleasure, yes, but the pleasure she truly wanted wouldn’t come from her fingers or her tongue. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her. She wanted to know what he would do to her, but couldn’t find the words to ask over the pounding of her heart and the heavy throbbing between her legs. She was overwhelmed by her desire for the man before her.

  His eyes glinted and his hands settled on her wrists, holding her, steadying her. His mouth sank and he gave her another firm kiss. The heat of his mouth sank through her body, warming her down to her toes. Her knees weakened and she fell against him. He caught her and held her fast against him, his mouth only lifting from hers when she was totally boneless. He swept her into his arms and laid her down on the purple sheets of the bed behind them, then proceeded to devote himself to her pleasure.

  He caressed her cheek, let his fingers drift over her lips, and then moved his attention downwards. He touched her breasts, fingertips rubbing against the points of her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her. She shivered. Dark eyes intent, he pinched one nipple gently, causing her to squeal and arch from the bed and into his arms.

  He smiled, a cutting gesture beneath the mask that he still wore.