by Dee Palmer
“Then allow me.” He graciously escorts me to the al fresco dining deck, and once I’m seated and he has helped remove my mask and headpiece, he turns to leave.
“I shall inform the chef and fetch you some panties.” He informs me as he pauses at the top of the stairs.
“No thongs, I don’t want to be prancing about with a wedgie from hell.” I call after him.
“Well, I may be some time selecting the most suitable garment then.” He waggles his brow playful, and I pinch the pressure at the bridge of my nose.
“Pervert!” I yell. He’s incorrigible.
“High praise indeed.” His chest puffs with pride, and he gives a showy bow before disappearing below deck.
Our sleek gondola glides through the canals. It is one of the very few that has a small cabin, a fieze, and I find myself straining to peek through the louvered windows, keen and excited to experience the city from this unique and luxurious taxi. I think the quietness is what I find so appealing. No motor noise or harsh headlights on a road this late at night, just the tranquil lapping sounds of the sea against the shiny undercarriage of the gondola and gentle undulations as we are expertly steered to our destination.
My tummy might have settled with the food, but my heart feels like it’s going to explode, the strong beat bruising my ribcage from the inside. Why the hell am I so nervous? Stupid fucking question and only one stupid answer.
“Why isn’t she here?” I snap at Eve the instant she takes her seat next to mine. We are just about to be served dessert and there is no fucking sign of either Sam or Gabriel. My stomach drops that this is a huge fucking waste of time, and I should’ve just stormed the yacht and dragged her home.
“They decided to skip the feast.” She sips her Champagne, and I fight the growl of frustration that is bubbling in my chest.
“Why? Why would they do that?” My voice is openly tense.
“Well, obviously Gabriel went into extreme detail about his private life with me.” Her flippant remark and tone aren’t helping.
“Sarcasm Eve? Really?” I snap.
“I’m here tonight as Gabriel’s employee, Jason, so contrary to what you may think, he doesn’t have to tell me shit about the whys and wherefores of his decisions.” I’m pretty sure she’s scowling at me right now from her irritated intonation.
“But they are coming?” I hate how needy I sound right now, but I’m literally going out of my mind, waiting and wasting time like this.
“I believe they are just setting off. Sam was feeling unwell so they ate—”
“Unwell! What’s wrong?” I blurt my question a little too sharply, and she recoils before she answers with a sigh of exasperation.
“Really Jason, did I not just—”
I don’t let her finish. “Yes. However, you clearly did know, so stop with feeding me snippets of information, Eve. This is killing me here.” Her eyes widen beneath the mask and her lips quirk with a sad little turn.
“You really are, aren’t you? I’m sorry, Jason, I thought this was some sort of power play. I had no idea.” She reaches for my hand, and I take a surpassing amount of comfort from her squeeze and heartfelt sentiment. “Look, Gabriel said that Sam was feeling a little poorly. She didn’t want to have to sit through a fancy meal, so they ate on the Ambrosia and left a few minutes ago.”
“So what? They’ll be here in maybe half an hour?” I glance impatiently at my watch.
“They will be here in time for the auction and the exhibition piece of course, and after that, your guess is as good as mine.” She casts a knowing glance around the richly decorated banqueting hall. The long tables have been set in a large square, seating around two hundred guests. Black tablecloths and wrought iron gothic candlesticks, with hundreds of flames, flicker aiding to the nefarious air of the evening to come. The arched and vaulted ceilings are typical of any church or basilica erected in that time, and several heavy iron chandeliers illuminate the windowless room with sensual promise and wickedness. In the centre of the tables is a chequered floor which has been laid out to resemble an elaborate yet erotic chess board with real life players. When knight takes pawn, there is no euphemism, just hard and fast fucking.
Throughout the meal, the game has played out as one continual live sex show. The pieces are barely dressed at all. Only the masks and original placing on the board give any indication which piece they are supposed to be. I have to admit, Gabriel outdid himself with the decadence and debauched theme of this evening.
Eve informed me that the ‘activities’ won’t officially start until after Sam’s display. Still, it seems that hasn’t stopped several guests from reaching for their neighbour or slipping beneath the table to quell their appetites in the meantime. I don’t care what others do—never have—but right now, I just don’t want to be here. I don’t want Sam here, and as the memory of my nightmare collides with my reality, I admit to myself for the first time with absolute certainty that I don’t want to share…ever again.
“I take it Gabriel has instructed you to fix the bids?”
“You would be correct.”
“That’s fine, just make sure mine matches his.” I’ve switched from Champagne to whiskey, and just as soon as I sit down, I tip the glass up and empty it.
“If you match him, Jason, he will claim the prize as his, organizer’s privilege, I’m afraid.”
“His bid will be in euros, make sure mine is in dollars.” I clarify and she giggles.
“Sneaky, I like it, but why dollars? Why not pounds?”
“Using pounds might give me away. I don’t want Sam to suspect it’s me until it’s too late.”
“Too late?” She tips her head with curiosity. It’s actually quite a challenge to gauge people when there are no visual cues from their faces. Any nonverbal confirmations can come only from intonation and body language, although Eve is not so difficult to read.
“Until I’m at the wrong end of her whip.” I elaborate. “In a room full of people, I might just gain a few precious seconds of a stunned silence to speak to her without her running for the hills.”
“A few seconds, that’s not long.” She sniffs, and her voice is thick with doubt.
“It’s all I’ll need to know if she’s still mine.” I state this as a true fact. I will know
“You might not survive a few seconds if she’s mad at you. I’ve seen her skills with that whip. She’s deadly.”
“Oh I imagine she’ll be more than mad, but she has every right to be. I will let her do what she needs to do until…” I pause mid thought.
“Until?”
“Until she has exorcised her demons.”
“On your skin?”
“If that’s what it takes.” My response is impassive and also absolute truth.
“I hope you’re right. You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble.”
“I’d go to a hell of a lot more to get her back, trust me,” I retort, deadly serious.
“I understand. I may lose my job over this, but I feel the same way about Bianca so I do understand.” Her voice softens and her smile widens.
“How is she?”
“Just perfect and our little boy Pierre. “ She clasps her hands together, and even through the gold mask, I can see her eyes crinkle with unsuppressed joy. She reaches into the purse that is secured to her skirt, and I raise a brow, for a moment thinking she has a phone in there. Because if there is one thing that would get someone thrown in the Canal Grande it would be bringing a recording device to one of Gabriel’s Gatherings. Instead she pulls a small strip photograph out, one from a photo booth with her face squished against Bianca, a former employee at my club, and their son, a chubby infant, all grinning like happy idiots.
“I’m happy for you, Eve.” She tucks the picture safely back in her purse and beams at me.
“And I’m grateful to you for sending Bianca my way.”
“I didn’t think I would lose an employee. I was only hoping she’d pick up a bit of French while on
secondment,” I reply dryly. Still, I meant what I said, I am happy for them.
“Oh but she did.” She giggles, the sound is so light and innocent it floats above the background of muffled moans and sighs as the guests fail miserably to wait their fucking turns. Anyone would think they are all hedonists bereft of rules and morals…Oh wait…
There is a loud groan of the doors that lead down to the entrance and the great hall. All eyes turn to see who is about to emerge, fashionably late. Thankfully, here at all as far as I’m concerned. A hushed silence blankets the room, and for the first time this evening, I can hear the string quartet playing from the gallery.
My back straightens and my breath freezes in my lungs when she reaches the top step. My beautiful.
There is a ripple of applause, and Gabriel waves a welcoming hand like the fucking King himself, and I can see Sam shift uncomfortably when he turns to her and kisses the back of her hand. That’s strange. Why would she be uncomfortable unless she didn’t want to be here? And that bastard is forcing her? I go to rise from my seat, when I feel a vice-like grip on my taut thigh and turn to see Eve shake her head, and her eyes darken with warning.
“Just wait,” she hisses softly.
“She doesn’t look like she wants to be here, Eve. I think something’s wrong,” I whisper back.
“You interrupt this, and there will mostly definitely be something wrong. Calm the fuck down and ask yourself, would Sam really do something she didn’t want to do, for anyone?”
I bite my lips tight, because as much as I understand what she’s saying and what she believes true of Selina, I know for a fact Sam did do something she didn’t want to do, for me and my brother. She took the fall for us with our mother and there’s no way she’d have wanted to do that.
“Fine.” I spit the words out through clenched teeth and look back to where Gabriel and Sam have just taken their seats at the head of the table. The chess game climaxed a little while ago, and the floor is now empty. My eyes bore into Sam, I shouldn’t, yet I can’t help but stare. She looks utterly amazing, though there’s definitely something off. Her shoulders are stiff, and although her mask covers most of her face, I can see her eyes scouring the room and her gorgeous red lips are pulled into a thin contemplative line. I look away just in time. Shit.
He’s here. I just know he’s here. The disguises and masks are unbelievable, stunning, and fail at the only job they are designed for, anonymity. For me because, thanks to Gabriel, I’m the star attraction; for Gabriel, because every single person in this room knows who he is and loves him in one way or another, mostly because of this very evening; for Jason, because in that sea of faces I couldn’t possibly recognise, I know he’s here. I stiffen and find myself gripping the thick oak table with white-knuckle effort. The hairs on my neck are dancing like crazy, and my lungs labour to draw in more air, restricted as they are with this impossibly tight bodice.
“Gabriel,” I hiss out a whisper through a fixed and awkward smile, and all eyes are still very much focused on us.
“Mistress?” He turns and I have to tip my head away from the protruding hooknose of his mask. He nearly took my eye out in the gondola when he turned to speak to me.
“Jason is here.”
Gabriel waves off my nonsense with his gloved hand. “Impossible, Mistress. I checked the guest list as we came in. Everyone here has been checked and double-checked. I can promise you he is not here.” He places a calming hand over my clawed fingers and pulls them away from the table. “Relax and enjoy, Mistress. Please, for me.”
“I’m sorry. Just a little on edge. You know, I haven’t actually done this for some time. And the hormones, well, let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of my whip this evening.” I give a faint smile, and he squeezes my hands. His huge smile spreads wider, and he practically glows with joy at my statement.
“I will have the first aiders standing by.” His lips twist with salacious intent, and his voice drops to a low grumble.
“I may be rusty, Gabe, but I will not be drawing blood tonight.”
“Mistress…” he grumbles and pouts like a spoiled child. I snort at the ridiculous expression on a grown man.
“It’s an exhibition piece, Gabe, lots of flashy moves, slicing off clothes and some loud cracks when I snap back, which will sound amazing in this place.” I glance up as much as the headpiece and mask will allow. The arched vaulted ceilings will provide an impressive echo that will probably be heard in the Piazza San Marco.
“I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.” He continues to pout, and I pat the side of his face, which is half mask and half jaw.
“Oh babe, you know I adore the begging.” I drop into character for the first time in forever. The words just drip from my lips like a forgotten favourite flavour. My skin tingles with the memory, and I welcome the familiar comfort my alter-ego never failed to deliver to my troubled heart. I may be lost and uncertain of my future but this? This I know.
The drink has been flowing and although the rooms aren’t technically open until after my show, this is very much a free-for-all by the looks of what’s occurring around the room. Around the tables, laid out as they are, I can see several guests kneeling on the floor, one lady is perched between two men and has a cock in each hand, while nimbly darting between the two to take each down her throat. The men have their legs stretched wide and are carrying on a conversation as if they weren’t getting head. The only tell is a clenched fist every now and then. Some of the servers are drawn into amorous embraces, both male and female, and one of the female servers closest to us has been laid out on the table, her Domino robe pulled up to reveal her fully naked body. One of the female guests is kissing her and another is leaning over between her spread legs. She’s slowly pushing her fingers inside the naked woman as her legs are held elevated by two male guests on either side. If I wasn’t hot before, this debauched tableaux is making this costume unbearable. I can’t quite believe I have gone from never witnessing a live sex show to being up close and personal with two in the space of a few months. It’s been an eventful year so far.
“Remind you of anything?” Gabriel leans in to speak, keeping his ‘nose’ forward, and I follow his line of slight and nod. I tilt my head with a silent query. La Rose D’Amour. “I saw you were reading my copy of The Pearl.”
“Ah yes, your Victorian porn. Man, those guys were adventurous.” I sniff with a light laugh and glance back at the scene before me. “Is that what gave you the inspiration to host these Gatherings?”
“Actually yes. Such a civilised and decadent way to indulge. An orgy isn’t an orgy unless you are playing dress-up, and what better place than Venice.”
“Well, you’re obviously doing something right, your PA said the tickets were twenty-five thousand a pop, and you are always sold out.”
“They get fed,” he retorts dryly, and I blurt out a deep, throaty laugh. I don’t think I’ve done that in a while either, laughed. Maybe I should slip Selina back on more often. She seems to be able to handle my sorrow much better than I.
“Yes, Gabriel, they come for the food.” My tone is thick with sarcasm. “Do the servers get paid extra? I mean are they professional?”
“Actually they are guests that don’t make the list. They have the option to attend as servers but they are not allowed to refuse a guest’s advances. That’s the deal.”
“Seriously, they aren’t allowed to refuse anything?”
“Really, Sam? We’re going to have the safe, sane, and consensual conversation here of all places.”
“Sorry, my bad.” I grimace with the apology. This is not the place for naïvety, newbies, or innocence by the look of it. “So they sign up for this then?”
“Actually some invited guests prefer to play the role of server so it’s a mix.” His voice drifts off, and as fascinating as I find this, he’s obviously bored with my interrogation.
“You don’t have to stay with me, Gabe. You can go and play. I’m a big
girl, I can take care of myself. Besides, I have this.” I pat the coil of my bullwhip.
“I have all night, Mistress. After my whipping, I shall indulge, have no fear, suffice it to say that until then I will not leave your side.”
“I’m not going to argue. So when’s the auction?”
“Eve will open the bids in about half an hour.”
“Bids?”
“Sealed bids, Mistress, nothing as crass as an open auction.”
“Frightened someone might outbid you, Gabe?” I tease.
“No. I just don’t leave anything to chance when it’s something I want.”
“You know, with all you’ve done for me, Gabe, I could’ve been persuaded. I mean I know I said no, and still, all this effort. It’s a little crazy.”
“Mistress, please this is nothing. Besides, you know I like to win, and what is a greater prize than your final performance.”
“If you say so. God, I wish I could have a drink.”
“I have told you one glass will not hurt your little parasite.”
“Gabriel, take that back right now!”
“My apologies.” His head drops and his tone is seriously contrite. My clenched jaw relaxes as a flash of worry widens his eyes.
“I’m sure the baby would survive a glass of wine. Nevertheless, I don’t drink when I’m planning on using the bullwhip. Too much can go wrong.”
“Pfft, I have never seen skills like yours, Mistress.”
“So tell me, do you know everyone here?”
“Hmm, let me see.” He takes his time surveying the room, before slowly turning to me with a knowing glee in his eyes. “No, I don’t know a single person.”
“Liar,” I scoff, but it doesn’t matter to me, he can keep his secrets. I understand the need for discretion. Given the type of people Gabriel mixes with, there could be royalty and presidents about to get their kink on for all I know. Not that I’d tell….