Only a faint redness around her wrists proved that last night was not a dream.
She quickly pulled on her clothes and crept out of the empty house. A dark blue dawn was just beginning to lighten the suburban street and the air was bitterly cold. The limousine was idling at the curb. She knew it was silly, but as she collapsed into the back seat, her throat ached with a renewal of her tears the night before. Despite never seeing his face, the thought of another week without her Muse was unbearable. She knew it would sound insane to any reasonable person, yet she was really beginning to believe that within the kinky games of the Society, she was falling in love.
Chapter Five
“I’d like to see you after class, Chelsea.”
Professor Deveaux’s tone sounded almost reprimanding. Was she upset? Chelsea studied her as the rest of the students filed out of the classroom. Her professor’s beautiful face looked aloof and disapproving as she approached. Chelsea couldn’t understand why. She already knew she had passed her second test. She had submitted her story from last weekend and received back an email telling her to prepare for her third test. So why was her professor frowning ever so slightly?
Yet the frown vanished as she approached. Instead, Professor Deveaux smiled at her almost maternally. “Ma chère. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your story. Much better than your first.”
Chelsea broke into a sheepish grin. “Thanks, Professor.”
Her professor played with a pearl earring. “And yet… I did want to check in with you and remind you, yes, he is just a Muse. A plaything, ma chère, no one of any consequence. Your story sounded almost as if you were…getting emotionally involved. And that would be silly, yes?”
A wave of foolishness and guilt swept through Chelsea. Professor Deveaux was right, of course. She was already deeply and hopelessly attached to her mystery man. They might not have exchanged words or names, but they had exchanged a physical and emotional euphoria that went beyond words. So what? Who said she couldn’t lose her heart to such a sensitive, sexually gifted man?
“No, I’m not emotionally involved,” she said in her best reassuring voice. “I just was being…passionate in my story. It was a very erotic night for me.”
“I see.” Professor Deveaux smiled deeply, tiny crinkles emphasizing the beauty of her dark eyes. “I was just making sure.”
Chelsea’s stomach fluttered each night that week as she checked her email. Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, with the Ball where she was to be initiated. But no further instructions from the Society were forthcoming. To alleviate her restless longings, she tried to channel her energy into a story about a mysterious chestnut-haired stranger. Writing her fantasies was as close as she could get to him, but of course it wasn’t close enough. Strangely, reading her Jonathan Danvers novels didn’t alleviate her frustration either. They were just books now, a pastiche of paper and ink that were a cold substitute for the hot body that had made her come so intensely and beautifully.
She wanted the real man.
That Friday night she found the familiar anonymous email waiting for her.
Dear Chelsea,
Congratulations. Your third test awaits you Sunday night. Your driver will pick you up at eight o’clock.
And remember, the true test of erotic love is recognition.
Recognition? What did that mean? She swallowed nervously. Was she supposed to provide a clue that she knew he was Jonathan Danvers? Perhaps if she didn’t, she would fail.
Just the thought of being rejected from Erotics Anonymous formed a lump in her throat. Membership no longer mattered a tenth as much as seeing him again. She knew that her feelings for her Muse were breaking the Society rules. She was supposed to be embracing a lifestyle of erotic exploration, not falling in love. But that was exactly what was happening for the first time in her life and there was no way she was going to relinquish such a passionate experience on principle. As far as she was concerned, she would have her Muse and the Society too—if only for the networking opportunities.
On Sunday evening, she was too nervous to eat in the dining hall. Her roommate watched her closely.
“What’s wrong, Chelsea? Got a hot date with a limo later?” Nikki asked sarcastically.
Chelsea blushed, wishing that she had a thicker skin. “I’m just not hungry.”
“Why not? Is your married man taking you out to dinner?”
“Ssh!” Chelsea hissed, glancing around. “God, Nikki, I am not seeing a married man. Where do you get this stuff from?”
“I’ll wait for Valentine’s Day. Then I’ll know for sure he’s married, because he’ll have to spend Valentine’s with his wife. That’s how it works with those guys.”
“Nikki!”
“Chels, I’m not an idiot. You’re sneaking into the dorm at dawn, acting secretive, no one knows where you are… And your mystery man is obviously rich if he can send limos to pick you up. Everyone in the dorm is talking about it. Why won’t you confide in me? I am your roommate.” Nikki looked forlorn.
Chelsea felt bad. “I know, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I just… I just can’t say anymore about it. I’m sorry.”
Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, God. You’re not pledging them, are you?”
Chelsea’s stomach dropped to her feet. She fought to keep her face composed. “Them?”
“Oh God, no. I never figured you for a sorority girl, but that’s it, isn’t it? I’ve heard of that sorority house—supposedly to pledge their house you have to seduce a professor. Who is it, Chelsea? That humanities professor with the ponytail?”
“No one!” she insisted, relieved that Nikki didn’t know her secret after all. “I’m not pledging a sorority and I haven’t seduced some middle-aged guy with a ponytail. Gross.” She shoved her tray away and stood up. “I have to study. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Her heart knocked about nervously in her chest as she hurried back to her room and dressed for the night’s adventure. Lying to Nikki wasn’t fun but there was no way she could tell her the truth about the Society, Professor Deveaux and her Muse. Nikki’d think she was crazy.
At seven o’clock sharp, she slipped down to the foyer to see the elegant silver limo waiting outside. Its exhaust steamed in the cold winter night. She got in without a word and settled back in the leather seat as it bore her off to her latest adventure.
An hour later, the limo was traveling through a nearby city. Chelsea was growing more nervous as they passed through unfamiliar streets. At last the limo pulled into the curving drive of a high-rise luxury hotel. She stared up at its towering lighted windows with a feeling of trepidation.
This time the limo driver got out. She watched in astonishment as he came back to her door, opened it and helped her out of the limo. Because he was only the second associate of the Society she had met unmasked, she stared hard at him. He was simply an ordinary-looking man of middle age. Perhaps because she had passed her first two tests, she was slowly being entrusted with meeting other members.
He pressed something into her hand with a smile and returned to his door.
She stared at it as the limo disappeared. It was a key card to a room in this hotel, room 2252. Taking a deep breath, she headed through the brass-lined glass doors and into the golden-lit lobby. A bank of elevators waited down a quiet hall. She headed toward them, trying to look as if she knew exactly where she was going.
In the elevator rising to the twenty-second floor, she looked at the key. The true test of erotic love is recognition. What did that mean?
The elevator stopped at a hall with one room marked Penthouse. Well, Nikki had been right about one thing—the Society obviously had money. Uneasily, she wondered if she would be expected to pay dues once she was a member, something she simply couldn’t afford as a college student. Inserting the key card in the door, she found herself in a dark and massive suite. Tentatively, she set her purse on a nearby table and moved across the carpet, heart pounding. One crack of light seeped through
the drapes and as her eyes adjusted, she could see a sunken living room of enormous leather sofas and soft throw rugs. A basket of condoms waited on the table. She was definitely alone.
Still nervous, she opened the heavy drapes. Now that the faint pinkish light of the city filled the penthouse, she could see that no box, outfit or instructions awaited her. Apparently she was simply to wait. She leaned her forehead against the glass and looked out over the twinkling skyscrapers before her. They glittered in a carapace of ice, as pristine and beautiful as a fairyland of white. Never had she felt so alone or uncertain.
The dual sound of doorknobs turning echoed through the room. Chelsea looked to her right and her left in amazement as two doors she hadn’t noticed opened and masked men filtered silently from each.
A wild panic rose in her blood. She hadn’t agreed to this, hadn’t agreed to group sex. Once again her inner alarm went off, reminding her that no one knew where she was and that she was at the mercy of the Society.
The four masked men waited in a line before her. All were naked, all were the same height, with their faces and hair completely obscured. Each wore a mask constructed as an animal head. A wolf, a lion, a tiger and a fox stood silently before her.
The true test of erotic love is recognition. As the rapid beating of her heart calmed, she realized that this was her task, to recognize her Muse. It was wildly unfair and as impossible a task as Venus set Psyche. She had never seen his body, let alone his face. Yet if she did not select the correct man from these four, she would fail her test.
Four pairs of eyes stared at her from the animal masks. For a moment, she was tempted to snap on a lamp. Then she decided against it. Artificial light wouldn’t help her with a decision that would be guided largely on her feelings.
Instead she stepped up to the first man, who wore the wolf mask. She put her hands on his impressively broad shoulders and squeezed. Tonight marked the first time she would be able to touch her Muse and the freedom to explore his body at last excited her. She felt the muscles in this man’s long, well-made arms, squeezing his biceps and deltoids. The naked man before her possessed an athletic physique and she enjoyed running her hands down his smooth, waxed chest. Yet there was no true heat between them as she touched him. It was as if she were stroking a warm statue. Confidently, she decided that the wolf was not her man, though she gave his firm buttocks a squeeze first to be sure.
She moved on to the lion. He was perhaps just a hair shorter than the others and by the lighter tuft of hair surrounding his erect cock, she guessed he was a blond. That definitely ruled him out. She ran her fingernails up his thigh muscles anyhow, smiling as his cock gave a violent twitch. Lightly she fingered his balls, playing with them until his entire body tensed with excitement. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As he did, his body moved into shadow and she realized his pubic hair was really no lighter than anyone else’s. Frowning, she ran a hand up his cock, squeezing his head until he bit his lip. Yes, he was definitely a stranger. Her Muse had more control than this man.
She dropped her hand and moved on to the tiger. The tiger was her favorite animal, perhaps it was her Muse’s too, which was why he had chosen this mask. Yet as she reached to touch him, she saw the fox next to him flinch. It was a reflexive move that conveyed misery and jealousy. Instinctively, she went to him and took his hard-muscled torso in her hands, running her thumbs over his nipples. Yes, this man was beautiful and aroused by her, desperate to make contact with her in a way the wolf and lion had not been. She ran her hands down his hips, then took his shaft in her hand. She stared into his eyes as she stroked him up and down. The brown eyes staring back at her were impossible to read in the dark hotel room. But his cock swelled tightly in her hand. He was aching to have sex with her, his entire body yearned with the urge. She could feel it. She dropped his penis and took a step back, studying the length of his body.
Then something made her look back at the tiger waiting with silent patience next to him.
It was him. The tiger was her Muse. Even without touching him, she knew it from the noble bearing of his shoulders and the erect carriage of his head. A hot trickle of arousal flooded her panties as she feasted her eyes on his nakedness for the first time, from his long, muscular legs to his washboard stomach and thick, rock-hard cock.
Forcing herself to remain composed, she touched him for the first time. She ran her hands up his legs and across his stomach, toyed with his nipples, then squeezed the wonderful hardness of his shoulders. This was the body she had felt but not seen, the anonymous body that had haunted her fantasies on so many nights. She held him by the firm, rounded globes of his ass and brushed his stiff cock against her. Wrapping one hand around his throbbing shaft, she placed the other hand over his chest.
His heart was beating as fast and hard as hers.
She pulled him against her. “It’s you,” she whispered. “I know it’s you.” She bit his shoulder, consumed with a yearning so fierce she could barely breathe. She longed to remove his tiger mask, if only so she could experience the sensual kiss of his mouth again, but she knew without asking that the mask would stay on. Instead her mouth traveled over his chest, licking his nipples in a rush of sexual hunger.
The other men silently left the room. Chelsea’s whole body trembled, so excited was she to be alone with her man, her hands and eyes free to explore him.
She didn’t ask him to speak. Instead she tugged him toward the sofas, where she resumed her examination of his beautiful body. Her Muse had other ideas. He eased her hands away from him and pinned her back to the sofa. For a moment she feared she would be asked to play passive again tonight. She didn’t think she could bear that. Yet her Muse only pulled off her clothes, tugging at her silk dress and panties with a rough haste that matched her hunger for him. Moments later she was as naked as he, the warm splendor of his body covering hers.
Hungrily they caressed each other, reveling in the feel of each other’s smooth skin. Her desire to explore every inch of his body battled with the desire to roll him onto his back and straddle him. A primitive demand was already burning between her legs and as his fingers drifted southward, her pussy began to pulse hotly. Yet her insatiable curiosity, so long denied these cold winter nights, won out. She had to look at him, touch him, know him. She reared up on her knees and rolled him onto his stomach to begin with his rear view.
And what a rear view it was. His powerful back tapered down to narrow hips and a firm, masculine ass that looked so luscious she had to squeeze it several times. She ran her fingernails down the back of his thighs, making his muscles clench. Then she picked up his bare feet and brushed them over her naked breasts. He jerked beneath her, burying his face in the sofa cushions to stifle what sounded like a moan. Chelsea smiled. If she could make her silent Muse emote, she knew she was doing something right.
She lifted his feet to her mouth, sucking his toes one by one into her hot, soft mouth. As her tongue stimulated the most sensitive parts of his feet, he shifted again with almost angry helplessness. That’s right, she thought. You’re in my hands now. Not in control now, are you? The tease in her enjoyed the delay; it was punishment for her powerlessness on their other nights. She leaned over him, letting her nipples brush the skin of his legs, ass and back with torturous lightness. She brushed his thick chestnut hair to the side so she could kiss the back of his neck. She rubbed his shoulders as her mouth sank into his skin, her teeth following her burning lips.
Roughly, her Muse rolled over to face her, his dark eyes smoldering through the mask. Tonight he was the one frustrated by the silence imposed between them. She could read the lustful frenzy in the heat of his eyes and the strain of his hard cock against his stomach. Like the tiger whose mask he wore, her Muse itched to devour her alive. And she sensed the only thing stopping him was an impatient acquiescence to her curiosity.
He wouldn’t wait much longer. That was clear from the trembling in his muscles and the blood-darkened stiffness of his cock.
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Chelsea stroked his shaft as if it were her greatest treasure. One drop of pre-come glistened in the faint twinkle of the city. She rubbed it over his head with her thumb. His cock throbbed in her hands in response. Long, silky and hot with desire, the feel of his erection flooded her with the sensation that they belonged together on a level far deeper than the erotic game they played.
She bent over and sucked him into her mouth, her hair falling onto his stomach. She hadn’t intended to use her mouth on him just yet, she had wanted to play with him some more, yet the masculine beauty of his penis was too mouthwatering. Holding him firmly at the base, her mouth rose and descended on him several times before she tightened her lips and swirled her tongue around his head. His hips twisted beneath her in wordless supplication as she licked him with hard, fast strokes, then resumed her smooth, tight sucking.
His balls waited high and tight for attention. She ran her fingernails across their sac, enjoying the tension of his thigh muscles around her ears. Yes, this was the most aroused she had ever felt him. Making him come now could be just a matter of moments. Yet the gifts of her mouth would have to wait for another night. Right now she wanted a more thorough union; she wanted his cock to fill her until she felt complete. Taking control again, she let his shaft drop from her mouth and straddled his narrow hips. As she reached for a condom, his swollen head pushed between her upper thighs with exciting forcefulness.
Chelsea pinned his wrists to the sofa and leaned close to his mask until their eyes were only inches apart. “I want one thing from you,” she whispered. “And it’s nothing you can deliver while wearing a mask.”
She knew he understood her meaning. She wanted his love, his voice, his personality, all of him revealed when the mask came off. She knew that wouldn’t be tonight. That was okay. She could wait. But it was imperative that they both acknowledge the sensual power between them, Society rules or not.
Erotics Anonymous - A Strangers in the Night Story Page 5