by Marian Tee
“The staff did a great job, didn’t they?” Lane beamed proudly.
“Yup,” Julieta said unhappily. The world-famous band, Minuit Rouge, had come up on stage, and as they began to play, Julieta knew their music officially signaled the start of the party’s first phase of revelry.
Dylan started to sing, and the guests clapped enthusiastically.
Oh, joy. Julieta quickly crossed herself, hoping God would understand that she was not a willful accomplice of Angelo Valencia.
Julieta was staring hard at the screen. Try as she might, she just couldn’t figure out what was wrong in the picture, but her instincts told her that she was missing something. With Angelo supervising backstage for Dylan and his band members, she knew she had nothing to worry about on that front – for now.
But was this really it?
His party was more like a political fundraiser, so what was so dangerous—
A strange sound reached her, and she jerked in her seat.
Surely, that wasn’t—
She strained her ears, but when she couldn’t hear anything, she pressed the rewind button.
Lane listened harder.
And there it was!
Her eyes widened. It had been a moan, coming from the pretty blonde seated at the end of Table 4. Why was she moaning? And if she had managed to hear it, shouldn’t the others have heard it, too?
She replayed the scene and slowed it down as well, and this time, everything became clear.
The blonde’s date was doing something to her under the table—
Something like—
Oh my gosh, he was making her come!
Her gaze flew to Julieta.
At Lane’s horrified gaze, the other girl said flatly, “That’s Phase 1. See no evil.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a challenge for the couples to make out or even have sex, just as long as no one sees what they’re doing.”
Her gaze flew back to the screen. “You mean…everyone’s doing it under the table?”
Julieta pointed to a vacant seat. “See that? Her boyfriend’s under the table, giving her the time of her life.”
“What?”
“Yup.”
“But why would they agree—”
“Because,” Julieta said patiently, “it’s what they both want.”
As Julieta’s gaze bored through her, the penny finally dropped, and Lane realized that all the couples in the basement were sadists and masochists like Angelo…and her.
She gulped.
And this was the party she wanted to attend?
This was what she was fighting to be a part of?
An hour passed, and Lane was confused to see a new set of guests arrive while most of the first batch of guests left together with the band. “What’s happening?” The few guests who were staying went back up to the receiving area and put on their masks.
“This is the party’s second phase,” Julieta informed her.
“And that means…what?” Staff started distributing masks by the door, and the second batch of guests put them on right away, as polite and charming as the first set.
Seeing Lane’s expression of wonder, Julieta explained, “Signor V is strict about how the staff is to be treated. Anyone playing the diva or acting like a shithead is immediately blacklisted.” She flashed Lane an evil grin. “Permanently.”
Oh. No wonder everyone was being so nice.
As the guests enjoyed cocktails in Angelo’s receiving area, the staff quickly went to work in the basement, clearing out the tables and replacing them with chaise lounges, love seats, and sofa beds, all of them also designed with Egyptian accents.
All of those were big enough to fit couples, Lane thought, and she felt her stomach drop at the realization.
Staff radioed that the basement party were ready, and Lane’s eyes widened when tuxedo-clad men and women in black gowns seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the receiving area. Weaving so gracefully through the crowd it was almost like they were dancing, they ushered the guests efficiently to the red carpet without making it seem like they were in a hurry to do so.
It was a masterfully executed choreography, and Lane was left in awe. Was it always like this every night?
A DJ had come in to replace Minuit Rouge, and he immediately spun a house mix that set an upbeat tempo for the party. The moment the guests started streaming in, the lighting in the basement changed, and a rainbow array of LED lights splashed on the walls of the room.
The crowd cheered, and as the DJ pumped up the volume and spun a faster, harder beat, almost everyone in the crowd started…kissing.
Lane’s jaw dropped.
Bodies were grinding against each other, and it wasn’t just couples doing them. There were threesomes, too, and all the couches, chaises, and love seats were occupied in the blink of an eye.
If the first phase was like a party thrown by the President of the United States of the America, this one was definitely organized by the president of a frat.
“The first time I found out what was happening, I thought they were trying to break the Guinness record for most number of couples having public intercourse.” Julieta grimaced. “Took me a month’s worth of exposure to understand that this is just their way of having fun.”
Fun?
This was fun?
“The masks are symbolic,” Julieta continued. “It means speak no evil, and whatever happens in this phase can’t be discussed with anyone anywhere outside this house.”
“D-Does Angelo participate in the…second phase?”
Julieta didn’t answer.
Lane wanted to throw up.
She turned to where Angelo was, and a monitor showed him shaking hands with Dylan and the rest of the band.
The thought that Angelo would return to the scene of the party made her clutch the armrests of her chair.
The band’s equipment van drove off, and a limousine came to pick up Minuit Rouge. Soon, this was gone as well.
Nausea struck, and Lane’s grip tightened on the armrests as she fought to keep her gaze glued on the screen.
Angelo turned towards the mansion.
Please, Angelo—
He looked up, straight where the security camera was.
Her breath caught.
It was like he was looking directly at Lane.
His lips curved in a challenging smirk. Ready, my Lane, that look on his handsome face said.
Ready for what, she wanted to cry out.
Most of the monitors showed couples still making out and making love, and the sight appalled and fascinated her.
In one screen, she saw Angelo pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Lane automatically reached for her phone, which she had laid next to the control panel.
But it was Julieta’s phone that rang, and the other girl jumped in her seat in shock. “Madre di Dio!” She glared at the monitor, muttering, “Damn you, Angelo Valencia!”
Lane swallowed back a nervous laugh.
Answering the phone, Julieta snapped, “Yes, Signor V?”
Lane’s head turned left and right between the two. Angelo was the only one speaking, but the security camera in his area didn’t have any audio and Julieta listened to him in silence, her face giving nothing away.
When the call ended, Julieta said reluctantly, “I’m afraid you’re on your own from here.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Why do you have to leave?”
But Julieta had already gone.
The door clicked automatically shut behind her, leaving Lane blinking in stunned silence.
Her phone suddenly buzzed in her hand, shocking Lane back to the present. “H-hello?”
“How are you feeling, tesoro?” His voice was a seductive purr, traveling down the line to caress her body with its sound.
She swallowed hard and managed to say, “O…kay, I guess?”
“Even after what you’ve seen?”
“Y-yes.”
“What did you think about the first phase?”
She couldn’t answer, didn’t even know what to say.
His voice turned low and husky as he asked, “Do you think you’d be able to host it with me next time?”
She gaped. Host? He didn’t just want her to join him? He also wanted her to host it?
Oh. My. Gosh.
“As hosts, the guests will expect us to dictate the tone of the party.” He paused. “You know what that means, don’t you, my Lane?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late.
Her mind had already conjured the most explicit images.
Angelo seated beside her at the table, countless guests surrounding them—
Angelo touching her, with her face visible to everyone—
His hands moving under the table—
Oh, but what if he himself was under the table so he could do wicked things—
She whimpered.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Through the phone, she heard Angelo suck his breath hard. “You’re wet now, aren’t you, my Lane?” His voice was harsh with desire, and she whimpered again, realizing that he was right.
She was…wet.
So, so wet.
She had never been this wet, never even thought it was possible to have so much moisture flooding the core heat of her body.
And he hadn’t even touched her!
The realization made her dizzy.
“Tell me how wet you are,” he commanded.
She choked out, “So much.” Lane watched him breathe hard on the screen at her reply, his powerful chest rising under his suit, and unable to help it, she zoomed in on Angelo so she could see—
Her fingers stilled as his face filled the entire screen – beautiful, hard, the embodiment of a fallen angel.
The fallen angel who was making her oh so wet—
A moan escaped her as she felt wetness gush out of her, soaking her panties completely.
Angelo’s head jerked up in the screen, and his gaze seemed to capture her through the monitor.
Oh. My. Gosh.
“You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Or are you ogling me?”
Oh. My. Gosh.
“Aren’t you, tesoro?”
The way lust thickened his voice made her shudder, and all she could do was whisper the truth. “Yes.”
His laugh thrilled her, made her feel hotter and wetter at the same time, but it was his next words that completely owned her.
“Will you spread your legs wide for me, my Lane? As wide as you can, please.”
Oh.
“W-why?”
“Because I say so.”
Aaaaaaah.
The simplicity of his command, the arrogant belief that he would be followed—
It should have repelled her, but it didn’t.
It made her want to obey him.
And so she did.
Slowly, she parted her legs, wider and wider until her butt slid halfway down the seat.
“Done?”
“Y-yes.” Her legs started to shake and ache at the uncomfortable position they were in, but she found herself welcoming, even relishing the discomfort.
“Do you feel wetter now?”
Oh. The moment he said the words, she realized that it was true. The new position had also forced her folds to open, and with her facing the screens, it was almost…oh, it was almost like she had opened herself to Angelo…and all the guests at the party.
“Oh gosh.” This time, the expression slipped out of her mouth.
Angelo’s sexy dark chuckle made her feel wetter and even more exposed. “I’ll take that as a yes.” A pause. “I’ll put the phone down now—”
Shocked dismay rocked her.
“But before that, I want you to promise me one thing, and if you can do this for me, I’ll give you what we both want.”
Her throat went dry. “W-what we both want?”
“My cock taking your virginal pussy, and you crying in my mouth the entire night.”
Aaaaaaaah.
“So are you ready, my Lane?”
“Yes.” She practically sobbed the word out. His words had turned her world upside down, and she knew she would do anything to make those words come true.
“Never take your eyes off me.”
And then the phone went dead.
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
Lane’s fingers trembled as she slowly placed her phone on the table.
She looked back at the screen, watching silently as Angelo went back inside the mansion. His stride was swift and powerful, and when he entered the basement, it was like seeing a current of electricity go through the entire room. The level of excitement rose dramatically at his presence, reaching a feverish peak as the DJ yelled on the mic, “Angelo Valencia in the house!”
Cries of excitement and sheer rapture erupted from the crowd.
A devastating beautiful smile curved on Angelo’s lips, and it was like the Pied Piper playing a tune.
All of a sudden, women were clamoring all over him.
And he was letting them.
A twinge of pain pinched Lane’s heart at the sight.
They flirted with him with their gazes, their words, the seductive sway of their hips, and Angelo allowed all of it.
The twinge turned into an ache, but still she stared, never taking her eyes off him. She watched him chat and smile with women a hundred times more beautiful and sophisticated than she could ever dream, and the pain in her heart became an agony that made her throat tighten.
She watched him circulate among the crowd like the perfect host, and her heart stopped when a female guest waylaid him…right next to a vacant couch.
No!
With the music so loud, it was impossible to hear what the girl was saying. Lane could only try her best to read the woman’s lips as they moved—
Would you like to play…with me?
Lane paled, and she hadn’t realized that she was already halfway to getting up from her chair when she saw Angelo’s lips move.
I’m sorry, perhaps another time.
She sat back down, trembling with relief and not a little confusion. She had really thought that he would accept the woman’s offer, had thought this was the reason why he hadn’t wanted her to come to any of his parties.
She looked back at the screen. Another girl had blocked his way again, and this one was more aggressive this time. Holding Angelo’s hand, she drew it to her breast.
What the—
But again, Angelo refused the woman, and Lane didn’t have to read his lips to know it had probably been something so charming that the woman wouldn’t take offense. She inhaled and exhaled, wondering how long this torture would last.
The woman walked away.
Thank God!
And Angelo’s gaze suddenly lanced hers through the security camera.
Oh.
It was like he was staring at her, asking her in that velvety voice of his if she was doing what he had asked her.
Never take your eyes off me.
Lane bit her lip hard.
The chase continued, a parade of women coming on to him almost every minute, and he let them. But it was different this time because now she realized what she had missed earlier.
While the women made their advances, Angelo’s mocking gaze would occasionally find Lane’s through the camera—
Never take your eyes off me.
And slowly, it became clear to Lane, this pain that made her heart hurt in a terribly exquisite way—
Her body reacted to the knowledge, her breasts swelling under the wired cups of her dress and aching for his touch.
Oh, how so clear it was, and this time she welcomed the pain.
Pain that had wetness gushing out of her like she would never stop wanting him until he came.
Pain so tortuously sweet because now Lane knew this was what being a masochist was all abou
t.
She looked at Angelo, and it was like seeing him in a brand new light, and she wanted to laugh and cry at the twisted beauty of it.
He never had a plan to take any of the women up on their offers.
Never.
Not any of them.
All of this was Angelo’s sadistic way of giving her pleasure.
To taunt her, to hurt her, to make her want to cry, but most of all, because he knew she was what she was—
A masochist.
He did it to make her wet.
He did it to make her want him.
He did it to make her happy.
She reached for her phone.
When he answered, he said with a sigh, “It took you long enough to figure things out, tesoro.”
She quickly covered her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping.
“I’ve been bored out of my mind flirting with all those women.”
Oh.
“Say something,” he suddenly gritted out, and Lane realized too late that he had misinterpreted her silence. “You’re calling me because you understand, si?” His voice hardened. “Because if you are calling me to say you’re leaving, we must talk and—”
“No.”
She saw Angelo whiten on the screen.
She swallowed. “I’m calling to ask how long before you can make good on your promise—”
“Hold that thought.” Angelo cut the call.
Right.
Lane put the phone back on the table and swiveled her seat to face the door, heart thumping hard against her chest. She took deep breaths, but it didn’t help at all. She placed her hands on her thighs, which were still trembling and aching. She was so, so wet. And she wanted him—
Lane heard the door clicking as someone unlocked it from the other side.
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
And then he was there, her fallen angel, Angelo.
The doorway framing him like he was a sculpture made real, Angelo stood still, the corner of his lips turning up at the way she stared dazedly at him.
Did I just blow you away, his smirk seemed to ask, and of course all she could do was mentally nod. Yes, you totally did.
“Hello, tesoro.”
“H-he-yo.” She couldn’t quite make up her mind if she wanted to say hey or hello, and Lane felt her cheeks heating up when the words ended up jumbled. The corner of Angelo’s lips turned up, and Lane turned even redder.