A Torrid Celebration!

by Whiskey Creek Press Authors

  She felt something strange—an erotic feeling coming from the paper. What the hell?

  Regaining herself, she read the card.

  You are cordially invited to the annual masked ball to be held at The Aster Crowne Plaza immediately after the end of the Krewe of Bacchus Parade.

  The invitation took her breath away, especially the hand-written Hope to see you there.

  Ava Clinton sat on the side of her bed, her towel falling to her waist, stunned by what she held in her hand. She could not begin to figure out who'd sent the invitation but at the moment, she had other things on her mind.

  Heat coursed through her when she touched the handwriting, her stomach tightening. Who the hell are you and why do you have this hold on me?

  She lay back, trying to determine what costume she should wear. With the ball in a few weeks, she knew she'd better get one soon or there would be no decent ones left in the entire city. Different ideas came to mind and she quickly pushed them aside. She saw beautiful images before her but she didn't feel in the mood to go as a Southern Belle, an angel or anything her friends might expect her to go as.

  She knew from talk the day after the previous year's ball that masks remained on all night—a quirk of the host who had a reputation for loving mystery. Somehow, Matthew Lord, III, didn't strike her as a mystery lover unless he'd chosen to continue his father's tradition.

  Ava got up and crossed the room to where she'd put her laptop. Ignoring her nudity—it didn't matter, no one would ever know—she sat in a comfortable chair, curled up with her Dell and looked up costumes. One struck her as unique, though Ava kept looking. The more she looked, the more she settled on the unique outfit she kept returning to.

  She enlarged the picture and stared at it—a gothic sorceress. The gown had two distinct pieces—a low-cut little black dress and a sheer deep purple and black overcoat which flared out as it fell to the floor. If she got rid of the witch's hat, added the right mask and a slinky pair of black stilettos, the costume would be perfect—sexy while not slutty, wild yet mysterious.

  She tried calling the costume shop and after talking to the owner for a short while, she had the costume put aside for her to try on the next day.

  "Thank you, Mister..."

  "Lovelace,” he said, “and you're very welcome."

  Ava hung up, shut off her computer and sat back. She pictured herself in this costume, her body aroused by the idea and the possibility her mystery man would help her experience an unforgettable evening.

  * * * *

  The next day, she walked out of the costume shop with her costume and the perfect mask to accompany it. Down the street, she entered a shoe store and bought a pair of stiletto sandals to finish the look.

  "Are you sure you want to wear these all night long?” the clerk asked.

  "Right now, I'm not sure of anything."

  Ava left the store, went home and tried on the entire outfit to make sure it fit and that nothing lacked. Liking what she saw, she took it off, hung it up and walked over to pick up a robe from her dressing table chair. She stopped when she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror—her naked body wearing nothing but stiletto heels. She picked up the mask and put it on gasping.

  The sight in front of her reminded her of the movie Eyes Wide Shut with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. She remembered the countless naked girls walking around a huge mansion waiting for the caped men to give their commands. Her nipples hardened at the thought and strangely enough—she loved how she felt.

  "Maybe this won't be such a bad thing after all."

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  Chapter 2

  The next two weeks passed quickly though two days before the ball, Ava had enough work to keep her busy over the weekend. She couldn't believe how many files Lord needed for one deal.

  "Will you be able to work over the weekend?” Matthew Lord asked her late Friday afternoon.

  "I did have plans for Sunday night."

  "You may need to cancel them,” he said matter-of-factly. “This deal needs to come together within the week."

  "I think I may be almost finished getting together what you need."

  "Are you sure? Please don't say this then Monday morning tell me it's not true."

  "I'm sure,” she stated, disliking his tone with her. Usually, Lord didn't treat her like this and it struck her as odd.

  "I'm counting on you,” he said. “By the way, are you going to the ball Sunday night?'

  "Ball?"

  "The masked ball my family hosts every year. As my secretary, you should have received an invitation."

  "I did receive it but I'm not sure I'm going,” she lied.

  "I figured you would go. After all, it's my understanding the invites are coveted."

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Hmm,” he said. He stood up, threw some files into his briefcase and started toward the door. “Seriously, Ava, if you get the chance—go. It's a fun evening."

  "I'll see how I do with the work and decide then."

  "I'll be showing up late. A member of the family always shows up at the Rendezvous at Convention Hall after the Krewe of Bacchus Parade."

  "Rendezvous?"

  "It's a black tie formal reception. I hate dressing up in the monkey suit but I have to."

  "Oh,” she said.

  "I'll see you on Monday unless we run into each other at the ball."

  "I'll see,” she said.

  She watched Matthew Lord, III leave the office and groaned. Why me?

  * * * *

  Matthew entered the elevator, pushed the button for the parking level, waited for the doors to close and grinned. He had Ava so confused she'd never suspect him of sending the invitation. He needed the element of surprise on his side or his little plan would never succeed.

  One thing he hated with a passion had always been hope and expectation dashed because something went wrong. He hoped she wouldn't bog herself down in the file room—his orders to her not meant to keep her away from the ball. Unfortunately, the work came up last minute and despite the fact he hosted one of the biggest galas during Mardi Gras, he still had a business to run and employees to worry about.

  Sunday afternoon, he went by the florist's to order several dozen roses to be delivered to the penthouse suite at the Aster Crowne Plaza Hotel. If things went as planned, he'd shower her with roses and champagne and maybe...

  Matthew went by the cleaners to pick up several suits including the Armani he'd wear for the reception then the ball. Having two major affairs in one evening—no, make that three—did not leave much time for changing clothes though he marveled at the way Reba, Cher and some of the others accomplished the same task at their concerts. He chose this way as a matter of convenience, not vanity.

  He walked into Magnolia Place, the centuries’ old family home, and immediately met his mother. Victoria Lord helped him take the dry cleaning upstairs to his room where she then asked which suit he planned to wear and went about laying out the shirt and accessories to go with it.

  "Mom, you don't have to..."

  "Old habits die hard. I always did it for your father."

  They'd been married fifty years when Matthew, Jr. died on a fishing trip. Ten years later, she remained a widow who doted on her son. He worried about her if his plans proved successful.

  "Mom, what are you going to do if I find someone to marry?"

  "Have you?"

  "Maybe."

  "Hmm, good question,” she said. “What's she like?"

  "I think you'll like her."

  "Will she be at the ball?"

  "Hopefully."

  "Blind date, I see."

  "Mother!"

  They laughed, Victoria hugging her son.

  "I wish you luck, Matt. I'll be very happy if you've found someone."

  She left the room before Matthew got into the shower then dressed for the evening ahead. Here goes nothing.

  * * * *

  Ava walked out of the office o
n Saturday afternoon, relieved she'd been able to finish the job Matthew Lord had given her. She could tell he rued making her work over the weekend—especially because of the masked ball on Sunday night. She'd always been fairly good at judging someone's feelings though only after she'd gotten to know them. Initial judgments didn't help her at all—Steve a prime example. She gave up trying to determine how she goofed that one.

  She went to Victoria's Secret and bought some last minute things for her costume—sexy lingerie and thigh-high stockings in black. As much as she loved her reflection when she tried on the costume, she knew she needed more. You are a lady, her mother always told her. She picked up something for dinner then went to her condo where she laid out the costume she'd wear the next evening.

  She ate then watched some television before she woke the next morning where she'd fallen asleep. She smiled, the memories of her dreams about a sexy mystery man making her feel hot and needy. She went to the invitation, ran her fingertips over the writing and sighed. Heat coursed through her but went unanswered. Hopefully...

  * * * *

  Sunday evening, Ava parked her car near the hotel and walked to where the concierge held the door for her. He nodded before she entered, Ava feeling strangely wonderful and naughty.

  Ava Clinton had never been one to flaunt herself or wear suggestive or even sexy clothes. She'd always wanted to but remained true to her Southern upbringing. Now, she walked the streets of New Orleans during Mardi Gras in an outfit she'd bought on a wild whim. She hoped it wouldn't backfire on her.

  She presented her invitation to the man at the door of the Grand Ballroom on the second floor of the grand hotel.

  "Miss, all masks remain on throughout the evening to keep the air of mystery at its height."

  "Thank you,” she said, taking back the card and placing it in her clutch. She put on her mask, made sure she could see without a problem and entered the ballroom. Inside, she saw a myriad of costumes and even though she recognized some of the people wearing them, she didn't talk to anyone.

  A waiter offered her a glass of champagne while another held a tray of hors d'oerves. She thanked them then ventured further into the room. She found a seat at a table near the wall hoping her mysterious host would find her.

  This will definitely be interesting...

  * * * *

  Matthew made it to the ball in record time after getting tied up at the reception then attempting to get through traffic. After-parade revelers continued to fill the streets, the party never ending. God, I love this town...

  He entered the ballroom and went to the head table where he greeted his mother and the others seated with her. He sat down then quickly took a look around the room to see if he could spy his guest. The receptionist had told him what she wore though he had some difficulty in finding her. Then he saw her, sitting at a nearby table and his body reacted. Once he knew exactly where she was, he kept an eye on her for the rest of the evening.

  Several times, she danced with other men. Matthew Lord felt jealousy's evil side rear its angry head but he held it at bay. The time when he would try to sweep her off her feet drew near and he had to stick with his plan. Finally, he could take it no longer. He got up, excused himself from the table and crossed the room to where she stood speaking with an older woman.

  "Would you excuse me? I couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

  "You have me at a disadvantage,” she said.

  "Masks tend to do that but I've been admiring you the entire evening."

  "I see."

  "Would you care to dance?"

  "I'd like that very much,” she said.

  Matthew placed his hand lightly on her back and steered her to the middle of the dance floor. He jolted feeling heated shocks jumping between them. His cock throbbed as if it knew something he did not.

  The band kicked into a Latin number, Matthew pleased. He pulled her tight and led, her body answering his commands and his silent call to her. She is definitely the one—why did I wait so damned long?

  Their hips swayed together and when he spun her around, his body felt the separation. Pulling her back to him, he felt their heat and prayed. May the luck of Bacchus shine down on us ... At one point, his forehead touched hers and even through their masks, he could feel it. Undeniable scorching heat and he shared it with one woman—Ava Clinton.

  When the music ended, he escorted her to her table and handed her a flute of champagne.

  "What do you think of the party?"

  "It's amazing,” she said, hoping he'd hear her over the music and endless conversation.

  "Good, I'm glad,” he said. “Will it be possible for us to get together later? Someone's trying to catch my attention."

  "Sure,” she said quickly while flashing a brilliant smile.

  "I will see you later then."

  "Until then."

  Matthew walked away from her, his body hating being away from hers. He ducked out of the room once he saw the time, then returned without mask or costume to officiate at the closing speeches. On his way to the stage, he caught a waiter and asked him to give a note to Ava. After describing her then pointing her out, he watched the man hand it to her and saw her reaction.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, may I take this opportunity to..."

  * * * *

  Ava could not help but feel the heat surging between her and the mystery man dancing an erotic Latin dance with her. She'd felt it the moment he placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her onto the dance floor.

  They barely spoke, words unnecessary. Their gazes spoke volumes, nothing else needed. She molded her body to his, feeling lost when he spun her around but the second he pulled her back against him, she felt the heat and comfort. Why do I feel this way about someone I will never see after this evening?

  The dance ended, her mystery man escorting her back to her seat and handing her a flute of champagne. She drank it, a heady sensation overwhelming her.

  They talked about the ball, yelling over the music and the people talking around them.

  "Will it be possible for us to get together later? Someone's trying to catch my attention."

  "Sure,” she said quickly.

  "I will see you later then."

  "Until then."

  She watched him disappear into the crowd he'd come out of. She felt lost without him, a feeling she hadn't felt with any other man she'd shared moments with throughout the evening.

  Shortly before the host of the evening's gala spoke, a waiter handed her a note.

  If you'd like to continue the dance, come to the penthouse after the ball.

  She looked around, unable to see who might have sent it. She felt the same thing with this note as she had with the invitation, her stomach tightening. Who the hell are you?

  "Ladies and gentlemen, may I take this opportunity to..."

  Her heart slammed into her chest upon hearing his voice. She looked at the man speaking and, though the microphone distorted his voice a bit, she knew immediately who she'd been dancing with. Oh, my God...

  Her mind racing, she never heard anything he said, his words blending together to caress her body and her heart. She stared at him, unable to take her eyes off him. She watched him leave the stage and head for a table where he hugged an older woman. Immediately, she recognized the elegant Victoria Lord—his mother. Her head spun more. This cannot be happening...

  "Miss?” a waiter said a short time later.

  "What? Oh, I'm sorry, what can I do for you?” she asked, removing her mask.

  "It's time to leave so we can clean the room."

  "Yes, of course. My apologies. I may have had too much champagne,” she said, trying to come up with an excuse for remaining well after most of the guests had left.

  "You might want to take a room for the evening. I hear there may be one or two left."

  She thanked him then left, the note tightly clutched in her hand.

  Finding a bellman, she asked him how to get to the penth
ouse. He led her to the elevator and pressed the button for her then waited for her to enter it. The doors closed and the elevator easily took her to the top floor of the hotel.

  Nerves overtook her—her butterflies feeling like dive bombers as her father would say. She watched each number change and had second thoughts which she quickly banished. No, if Matthew Lord wants this, then who am I to ... What the hell am I thinking? What if he expects me to do this as part of the job? No, Mrs. Cleary never had to or...

  Her mind raced. A shred of her sanity told her Matthew Lord was an honorable man and would never put her in an awkward position. She had to hold onto that one bit of hope or she'd never be able to face herself again.

  The elevator stopped then the doors opened. Slowly, she walked out onto the carpeted floor and looked at the doors to two penthouse suites. One stood ajar as if inviting her inside. She took a deep breath, praying she hadn't made a mistake and gently pushed it open.

  "Hello?"

  "Ah, you're here,” his beautiful voice said. “I was afraid you'd changed your mind or had second thoughts."

  "I did have them—all the way up in the elevator. I'm not sure this is..."

  "Trust me, if you want to leave, I won't stand in your way but I would appreciate it if you'd hear me out."

  "All right,” she said, walking a little farther into the luxurious suite of rooms.

  He handed her a cup of tea and motioned for her to sit down on the sofa while he took the chair across from her.

  "Ava, it's like this..."

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  Chapter 3

  "You cannot be serious!” she gasped, nearly dropping her teacup.

  "Actually, I'm very serious,” he assured her. “If our time on the dance floor is any indication..."

  "But you're my boss,” she exclaimed. “How is it you haven't even given me a clue?"

  "I wanted to protect you. I know how those women gossip every chance they get. I'd hate for you to be the topic of their malicious chatter."

  "Even in your office, you've always been so ... professional."