A Torrid Celebration!

by Whiskey Creek Press Authors

  He watched nightly at her windows, unable to go to her without prior invitation. She rarely pulled her bedroom blinds, but seeing through those sheer lacy curtains was no trouble at all for a thousand-year-old immortal with perfect eyesight. On some unconscious level, she'd sensed him watching her, played with herself, and imagined him fucking her too many times to count. His awareness of her had rapidly awakened her consciousness, and without realizing it, she'd carried her sense of him to her dreams, thereby inspiring her latest novel.

  Charles especially enjoyed the way she leisurely removed layers of clothing and caressed her silky-white skin, imagining his fingers tracing the path of hers over curves and valleys. She worked herself into a panting frenzy, circling and stroking those coral-pink nipples. Every time she pinched them and moaned, his cock steeled more. He longed to lick at their tautness, stroke every inch of her bare flesh with his tongue.

  When she opened her legs, Charles smelled her musky heat. His mouth moistened with the desire to taste her secrets.

  While she finger fucked herself, she imagined him driving into her with his rock-hard penis. He couldn't help but relent and masturbate with her. Her body undulated and rocked upon that four-poster bed, her mind filled with images of him, and the possessive streak in him appreciated her devotion. Her wildness drove him crazy; he could hardly wait to take her.

  His deprived cock ached to be inside her heat, while his immortal heart beat to her mesmeric tune. No one could ever replace her. Many beautiful humans had tried to woo him over the years and failed. He'd given his word ... and wait for her he would.

  Charles had grown very patient over the past eight centuries. This offering had to be perfect.

  "You have come back to me after eight centuries. No one has missed you more than I have...” he whispered. “No one has loved you more ... No one can sate your desires the way I can. You are mine, my love."

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  Chapter 3

  At last! Nadia's heart hammered in her chest as she stroked the gold lettering with her index finger. She couldn't remember feeling this excited in months. She sensed that something of great importance was within. Taking a deep breath, she tore open the rose-colored envelope and scanned the flawless lettering.

  This is an exclusive invitation to Club Decadent's Halloween bash, Nocturnal Offering.

  Nadia rechecked the pale rose-colored envelope. Her name glowed back at her. Why is this ball named after my present work? Why would Rose arrange such a thing without first consulting me? How did she do that? She continued to read, as the fine gold lettering caught facets of light and reflecting them.

  My Dear Ms. Kimble,

  I cordially invite you to be a nocturnal offering...

  "How can one be a nocturnal offering? I guess they can when written into a work of fiction such as mine. Rose is having a lend of me.” Nadia laughed. “Very amusing, old duck.” She resumed reading the unconventional summons.

  Unchain your passions and set them free. Ease your frustrations. Be desirous and shameless, taste wild and forbidden fruits, while remaining entirely anonymous. Choose one mate ... choose many...

  Be a whore in Eden's exclusive, abundant garden, without repercussions. Be a saint if you want, too.

  "Suddenly, I'm not so amused.” Nadia's brow furrowed and her mouth pursed; she didn't bother trying to relax them.

  A whore in the Garden of Eden indeed! What possesses these bloody people to come up with this crap? Talk about forward. Well, shag me six ways from Sunday!

  There went her mouth ... ah, thoughts again. She could hear her mother's aggravated tones right now, “Nadia, you have a potty mouth! God knows it didn't come from me; must have been your father. He always preferred the gutter!"

  Nadia shoved the exasperating thoughts aside and focused on the message.

  The host would like to remind you that this is a Halloween costume ball. Wear the most decadent nymphet apparel should you desire to attract the appropriate partner for the evening. Think baroque elegance with a twist or medieval simplicity. Think self-indulgence and Casanova lovers requiring effortless access. Think romantic seduction ... wear undergarments pleasing to the eye.

  Discover special golden keys to private chambers and sacred gardens ... unlock and explore. Let your imagination run wild. Eat, drink, and indulge...

  Please bear in mind, this celebration ball is exclusive—don't bring a friend, as desired mates will be in attendance. New toys and entertainment will be provided—the games selected and played are entirely up to the individual...

  All guests to attend incognito, including your host. Your secret is safe with us.

  Your chauffer-driven escort will arrive at precisely five-thirty in the evening, October Thirty-First to collect you from your place of residence. Do be punctual.

  Your costume will arrive via special delivery. Your publicist kindly donated your address for invitation, and she selected your costume for this special evening, looking forward to your attendance. Feel free to exchange the garment should you not find it to your liking.

  Ms. Kimble, you will tantalize your senses at your generous benefactor's expense. In short, you're an honored guest of Charles Poitier himself.

  Yours Earnestly,

  Charles Poitier

  Post Script: Said benefactor penned this invitation.

  It will be a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Kimble.

  Liberate yourself ... accept this invitation. Offer yourself up to the night and walk on the dark side with me.

  Offer yourself up to the night and walk on the dark side with me. Nadia shivered as she reread the bottom line. That line is straight out of my book. What transparent, outright plagiary. How very disturbing. He does not know me; how dare he behave with such familiarity? How could Rose do this to me?

  She rubbed her forearms, sensing a chill seeping right through her. I need to get out of this gear and into a warm bath. I'll call Rose and ask her to fix this once I'm done. Hopefully, I'll have calmed down by then.

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  Chapter 4

  Refreshed and warm after a long soak in the bathtub, Nadia picked up the receiver and dialed Rose's agency, only to be told she was out for the entire day. She hung up and called her home number. “Come on, answer the bloody thing,” she muttered into the mouthpiece. The phone rang out. She redialed, her breath leaving her in a hiss as she waited. To say she was pissed off was putting it mildly.

  Rose picked up the receiver on the third try. In her sweet, honeyed voice, she purred her name down the line. “...how may I assist you?” she finished.

  "About bloody time,” Nadia said, trying hard not to grit her teeth.

  "You're in a wonderful mood, Nadia dear. If you must know what kept me, I was shagging Bruce. I know you haven't been gettin’ any lovin’ lately. You wouldn't relate at all. So I won't bother asking if that's your problem. Your crotch has been like a barren wasteland since the dawn of time. You're quite used to the fact, and I'm all out of guesses. Do tell Rosie what bit you in the ass and caused your grumpiness this morning, Nadia darling?"

  Nadia was in no mood for Rose's sarcasm. She virtually yelled down the phone, “I don't want to be a whore in the freaking Garden of Eden!"

  "Excuse me?"

  "I'm no one's property. I don't want to wear a costume paid for by some kinky aristocrat! And I especially don't want to go to some perverted masquerade party."

  "Oh. So you've received your invitation then."

  "I assumed that was obvious."

  "No need to be all hypersensitive. Calm down, or you're going to have a coronary.” Rose's condescending tone irritated Nadia further.

  "Why didn't you enlighten me?"

  "Because you wouldn't have considered it."

  "And now you imagine I will?!"

  "The thought had crossed my mind, since I'd cajoled Bruce into acquiring two invitations."

  "Nocturnal Offering, Rose? Did you tell your lover about my
latest work?

  "I...” Rose sighed down the line. “I might have mentioned your title and a few words in passing. Nothing in-depth, mind you."

  "It appears Charles Poitier liked it enough to make use of it."

  "Don't flatter yourself, dear. Bruce coordinates all event details ... Charles Poitier instructs him, of course. By the by, you don't have exclusive rights to those two words. It's not as though you trademarked them."

  "Whatever. Please don't mention my work, not even in passing, until it's ready for advertising."

  "It's my job to promote you, dear."

  "You know the rules. I can't believe that man used a line right out of Nocturnal Offering as well. Outright plagiarism, that's what it is!"

  "Your line?” Rose sounded rather confused.

  "Yessssss. My line."

  "I didn't recognize any of your words on my invitation. Where?"

  "At the bottom.” Nadia sighed.

  "I recall seeing Yours Sincerely, Charles Poitier on mine."

  "Oh, that's strange."

  "My guess is that, for whatever reason, one of the flunkies has penned it rather badly. Nothing intentional."

  "Hmm.” Nadia could see her point.

  "By the way, the world doesn't revolve around you, dear.” Rose's tone had taken on that bored pitch.

  "Let's just drop it now."

  "Good idea."

  "Stop implying that I'm a narcissist."

  Rose cleared her throat. “I wouldn't dream of it, dear."

  "Ha!"

  Rose's laughter roared through Nadia's ear. She held the receiver away. “It appears,” Rose continued, “that Mr. Poitier granted your invitation without a second's thought. According to Bruce, he's simply dying for you to attend this Halloween celebration. He wants to discuss your works. It appears you have a devoted fan.

  "Oh, great.” I was right.

  "Nadia, you don't sound so enthused. He does appear to like you quite a bit. He may even masturbate over you nightly. Who knows?"

  "Funny one, Rose."

  "Your attitude is what brings me to behave like this."

  "I sooooo want to talk about my works with a demented psychopath whose interests, aside from me, include bloodletting and drinking."

  "Now, don't you go getting all worked up about such an absurd rumor."

  "Absurd rumor or not, I still don't like the man's manner."

  "Manner?"

  "The contents of my invitation were rather improper."

  "Everyone invited received the same invitation as far as I know. It's possible he wrote you a special invitation, but highly unlikely. He has others to perform such tedious tasks. I know I wouldn't if I were in his shoes."

  "Oh?” Nadia shook off the inexplicable disappointment. Get your shit together, lass. Now is not the time to start behaving like a scatterbrained ninny."

  "Apart from being a well-off recluse, the man's reputation is a mystery. People are bound to make up stories about such a guy. You of all people should know that, Nadia."

  "Hmm ... right. True, for some."

  "Your problem is that you write about vampires and the paranormal and you dream about them. You're not very normal yourself you know."

  Nadia nodded to herself, a grin sliding up her mouth.

  "Anyway, the demented psychopath has offered us the use of Château Poitier while you're in Paris for the Nocturnal Offering book signing. The chateau's only a thirty-minute drive from the city, so he said we could hold a publicity soirée as well if we wish to. Bruce passed the info on to me. Sooo, say thank you to your fabulous publicist instead of whining, dear."

  "Hmm..."

  "Nooo. Say thank you."

  "I don't know about this. We'll see..."

  "Thaaaank yoooou, Rosie."

  "Thank you, Rose."

  "Much better.

  "Anyway, the man's a honey. If you give him the chance, he'll have you doing the wild thing in no time. And that's something you're in dire need of.” Laughter echoed down the line.

  "Not bloody likely!"

  "You do realize the great privilege bestowed upon you. Thousands of women would kill to be in your position."

  "I'm not into diamonds, fur, or drinking blood. I accept that's his thing. However, it's not mine. I'm sure he can find many other adoring women to offer themselves up to his kinky methods."

  A hum of annoyance chimed from Rose.

  "Pretty boys don't interest me much either. There has to be a real man beneath the surface. One who knows how to really romance a woman."

  "I'm sure your fictional vampire lover is going to appear from the pages of Nocturnal Offering, just to romance you off your feet, and then shag you senseless,” Rose interjected. “You don't have a clue what a real man is."

  "So now you're judging me because I have high personal standards?"

  Another unambiguous sigh came down the line. “It's Friday; didn't you visit your shrink this week?” Rose asked offhandedly.

  Nadia hated the term shrink, and Rose darn well knew it. “Yes, I visited my therapist if you must know. My mood has nothing to do with lack of counseling."

  "Stop being soooo fucking dramatic, and Rosie will ditch the sarcasm,” Rose replied.

  Nadia sighed. Rose had a point. If she maintained better control of her emotions, then Rose would lay off.

  "Nadia, listen,” there was a pause on the line, “Bruce just climbed out of bed, and he's looking very randy. Matter of fact, he's beckoning me and waving his cock in midair."

  "Ewww ... gross!"

  "No. You need to be reminded what it's all about before your pussy closes up, dear."

  "No."

  "He's jerkin’ off now."

  "Too much information.” Nadia shuddered.

  "Indeed. He says hello."

  "Right back at him."

  "Well, now is not the time to discuss the other matter. How about I pop over this evening and take you out to dinner?"

  Nadia knew why Rose wanted to discuss the matter over dinner. She wanted to avoid an argument.

  "Better still, I'll book a table at Susanne's Haven and you can meet me there."

  Even better still! The notion of voicing her thoughts seemed rather appealing, but obnoxious. How appropriate of you to choose a relaxing, upmarket restaurant known for its charm and tranquility. Plus the cuisine is divine. Her mouth watered at that thought. In fairness to Rose, Nadia also happened to love the place, which was probably why Rose chose it.

  Nadia choked back a mouthful of sarcastic words and cleared her throat. “Fine. If you can acquire a table."

  "Done."

  "Alright.” Nadia looped the phone cord around her index finger, mentally perusing her wardrobe.

  "I'll see you at seven in the evening then?"

  "Fine."

  "Fine then. Do get a grip on your attitude problem by then.” There was a click, and the line went dead.

  Nadia placed the receiver down with a sigh. “And, no, you're not going to mope all day. You have work to do,” she muttered to herself, tightening the belt on her dressing gown. Time to change into daywear. She always did things the wrong way round, that was one of her many peculiar idiosyncrasies. She pulled on a woolen jumper and jeans and made for the kitchen once again. Today she wasn't going to write in her dressing gown. Nadia prepared a pot of tea and placed it on her favorite silver tray, two small jugs of milk—one was for Muffie—and carried it down the hall to her study.

  While gulping down her tea, Nadia quickly marked edits. She drank far too much tea and really needed to cut down.

  She poured a saucer of milk for Muffie and set it down by the rug. The cat stretched and meowed, rolled, pawed its ear, and went back to sleep. “I want your life, Muffin."

  Nadia got right to work on the next chapter. She worked tirelessly through the day, only stopping for a salad lunch.

  "Another chapter done.” She pushed her chair back and sighed in relief. Glancing at her watch, she let out a loud exclamation that would ha
ve burned her mother's ears. She shut down her computer and hurried to get ready for dinner.

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  Chapter 5

  Stepping back from the mahogany antique dresser, Nadia took a long look in the mirror. Catlike green eyes stared back at her. She was a tall, slender redhead with small breasts. Her best features, she'd been told, were her pale skin, long straight hair, full lips, and high cheekbones.

  Nadia considered her complexion a bit too pale and her mouth too wide, but she was okay with her flaws. She didn't mind freckles either. She didn't like to dwell on her looks too much, though. Such habits nourished unhealthy obsessions.

  These days, she hardly cared if, at the end of a date, a guy wasn't partial to some of her features, or, for that matter, if he didn't like her manner. She wasn't about to conform to some guy's perception of an ideal mate to get a second date. Nadia was sincere and straightforward—true to herself and her friends—and expected no less from those whose company she kept. That's what set the individual apart from the clone drone. The bottom line was, no one was perfect, and acceptance was the key. As far as Nadia was concerned, Relationship Street ran two ways. She no longer tolerated those who just took, giving little or nothing in return.

  She respected and accepted herself, just as she accepted and respected those around her, no matter their sexual preference, race, beliefs, and so on. As long as their behavior didn't encroach on the levelheaded folk around them, she tolerated it. This didn't mean she hung out with anyone and everyone, however. She selected her friends wisely—loyalty, honesty and compassion were must haves.

  Nadia didn't like to complicate things—life was far too complex without adding more shit to it. Her shoulders were broad enough to carry her own baggage—not that she had much these days. Her therapist was happy with her progress. She only had a few man issues to deal with. In light of what she'd been through, she'd weathered her troubles rather well.

  Honestly, Nadia would give up singledom for a real man who knew how to give and take, both emotionally and monetarily. All she needed to do was work on choosing the right men to be around, and, hopefully, she'd find one who wouldn't abuse her trust or hurt her fragile heart. Looks weren't everything to her and, certainly, they weren't what drew her to see the beauty of a man.