by Reed, Zelda
She shrugged. “You know how guys on MatchU are. They all say they wanna meet up but cancel at last minute. I thought this guy was gonna do the same.”
“What’s his name?”
“He said it was Raymond but that’s probably a lie.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And where’s this Raymond taking you?”
My sister pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “You have to promise not to freak out.”
“Oh no.”
“I checked it out on the internet. It’s totally legitimate.”
“What is?”
“The party he’s taking me to.”
I leaned back against our front door, my legs crossing at the ankles. “What kind of party is it?”
“It’s like a masquerade…sex…thing.”
“Oh my god,” I said, tilting my head back in exasperation. “That sounds like the perfect place to murder someone.”
Laura smiled. “That’s why I’m bringing Betsey and Ross,” her codename for the pair of switchblades she carried in the bottom of her purse. She leaned against the threshold of her bedroom door. “Besides. I’ve already asked the neighbors if they can watch the twins. And if there are only two people on this planet who need a break it’s the both of us.”
“I thought casual sex wasn’t your thing.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had sex in three years. I think I need to try something new.”
“I want an address,” I told her. “And take a picture of wherever this place is and if you can, take a picture of this Raymond guy too.”
Laura smiled. “You too. And if you’re gonna fuck him, make sure you bring him back here.”
I raised an eyebrow and glanced around our apartment. "He thinks I own a successful yoga studio and this place is a shithole." Laura rolled her eyes. "We're probably gonna get a hotel room."
"I'm sure that'll make you feel so much less like a prostitute."
With a smile, I flipped her off.
***
Nick and I decided to meet a French restaurant in lower Manhattan that, to my surprise, we'd both been to. It was one of New York's best kept secrets, the entrance tucked in an alley between a vintage clothing store and an overpriced coffee shop. Dinner, with drinks, could run up to $300. I couldn’t afford to eat there if it hadn't been for Chace, who hosted Jennifer's twenty-sixth birthday there the year before.
I wasn’t invited but Chace left her gift at his apartment and called me to bring it to him. Once I was inside Jonah bought me a drink and convinced me to stay, claiming me as his plus one since his wife couldn't make it.
The food was beyond delicious and the wine and the waiters were imported from France. I could smell the fresh bread and cheese as I wandered down the alley, my heels clacking against cobblestone, velvet ropes and a deep purple awning awaiting me.
"I'm looking for Nick," I said to the smiling hostess, my eyes scanning the small space.
Six tables were in the front of restaurant, all of them seating four and occupied with aging businessmen dining with their wives or their colleagues.
The hostess checked the list before grabbing a menu. "Follow me."
She led me past the front of the restaurant and down three steps, where a rectangular shaped bar sat in the middle of the room. On either side there were eight booths, all covered in expensive red fabric, short walls between each of them for maximum privacy. At the threshold of the room I could see inside every booth. Most were filled with couples holding hands across the table.
My stomach stirred with nerves as I tapped the hostess on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sort of on a blind date. Do you think you could point what table is mine?"
The hostess's eyes widened in acknowledgement. "Of course," she said. "Your date is right over there."
She pointed to the third booth on the right where a man was bent over, picking something up from the floor. His back was curved beneath his black suit jacket and I felt foolish for finding it sexy. He slowly sat up and --
"Are -- are you sure that's him?"
The hostess turned to look at me. "One hundred percent," she said with a nod. "You're one lucky girl. I absolutely love Chace Evans."
Before my boss could spot me, I turned and rushed up the short stairs. Within seconds the hostess followed me.
"Ma'am," she said, voice full of concern. "Are you alright?"
A great shock settled in the pit of my stomach. Brownsfan6, Nick, the man I’d been flirting with for months was none other than my ruthless, careless, and cheating boss.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, taking two steps back. "I need to go."
The hostess stepped after me. "What should I tell your date?"
My back was to her, heels sliding across the floor as I made my way to the front door. Under my breath, and I was certain she couldn't have heard me, I said, "Tell him whatever the fuck you want."
Ten
I was standing on the subway platform, my arms wrapped around myself when I received a series of text messages from my sister.
The first two were photos: a large brownstone on the Lower East Side with three floors and neon lights shining out of each window; Laura wearing a feathered black mask that matched my black ankle-length dress perfectly. I couldn’t help but smile. She looked gorgeous, her nude lips pursed attractively, brown eyes outlined in shimmering gold eye shadow.
Her next text was the address of the party, letters and numbers running together without indentation, followed by: YOU SHOULD BRING NICK! She was either drunk or excited. Possibly both.
For a second, my stomach turned at the thought of revealing myself to Chace and inviting him anywhere, especially a party whose sole purpose was to give people a venue to publicly and privately fuck. But then my mind began to wander, tugging me into a back room where my legs were spread apart, dress pushed to my waist, as Chace licked up my thigh from his place on the floor. A wave of heat crept up the back of my neck as I thought about his hands running up stomach and reaching for my breasts, gripping them tightly as I titled my head back and moaned.
Chace disgusted me but I wanted him. I wanted his hand wrapped around my neck as he took me from behind and this masquerade party was the perfect way to bed him without revealing myself.
A message from MatchU popped up on my phone. It was from Chace.
Don’t tell me you’re standing me up.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.
Not a chance, I just thought of something better than French food.
Oh?
Yeah. I know you’re not into the bar scene, but how do you feel about parties?
Eleven
There was a woman guarding the door to the brownstone. Dressed in a long, gold gown with a black mask painted against her pale skin, she drew eyes from every one walking along the sidewalk.
I walked up the concrete stairs and gave her a smile, her black eyebrow raising as she held out her hand and said, “Invitation please.”
“One doesn’t have to be invited,” I said, “if one lets themselves in.”
She looked away, slender fingers turning the gold knob of the front door. She cracked it open, a wave of loud, thumping music sliding out.
“The masks are located to your right and the bowl of secrets to your left. Pick one of each and make it count.”
In a massive text message Laura explained how the party worked. In the vestibule, atop two short columns, sat two bowls. One was filled with elaborate masks of varying colors, fit for both of the sexes, though some were more flamboyant than others. I chose one that was gold with a feather sticking out of the left side, the mask stretching down almost past my nose, hiding a good deal of my face. The second bowl held tiny slips of papers. Secrets everyone randomly chose to share with someone later in the night. It was a conversation starter, one that dug deeper than your standard, what do you do, or, where are you from?
I plucked a random slip of paper from t
he bowl and stuffed it inside my bra, turning to face the large mirror on the opposite wall. On the way to the party I stopped at a beauty supply store and bought a short black wig. It was itchy and hot but without my long, brown hair I was truly covert. Chace would never suspect that Veronica, the flexible owner of a yoga studio, was really his frustrated assistant.
The party smelled of sex and perfume, the low light interrupted by purple and green beams shooting down from the ceiling. The first floor reminded me of a rave, the music thumping loud as couples advanced towards corners or couches, hands reaching beneath dresses and belts, tongues sliding over lips and necks. The home was so large the first floor seemed never-ending – the kitchen, the parlor, the living room, the dining room, all filled with people. Fucking or watching other people fuck.
The private rooms were on the third floor. I maneuvered past women and men who slid their hands over my dress, their eyes dissecting my body as I walked up the stairs. I could feel their gaze on my ass and legs but paid them no mind.
The third floor was a hallway of rooms, a warm red glow bathing eight closed doors. The first and second floors swallowed up the music, the sound of beds creaking, hands slapping against flesh, and moans, the soundtrack of the third floor.
My phone buzzed.
I’m here, where are you?
On the third floor. Come find me.
I was far from the girl I was when I moved to New York. No longer shy or blushing, I tested each knob, opening unlocked rooms and apologizing when they were occupied. The old me would’ve flushed red from the top of my hair, down to my toes, stammering as I backed out and tripped over my feet. But the new me, the one who’d been hardened by the city, who went home with boys who fucked me while I was wearing a leash, wasn’t ashamed of stumbling upon strangers having sex.
I managed to avoid running into my sister, finding an empty room towards the end of the hall. My back was against the threshold of the door when Chace appeared, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit, a small white mash covering his eyes and the top of his nose.
He stared at me from the end of the hall, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. He’d shaven for our date, his skin smooth and glistening beneath the low light. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to run my teeth along his sharp jaw and make a mark prominent enough to show on Monday morning.
“Veronica?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
I pushed myself from the threshold. “You must be Nick.”
My speaking voice wasn’t my own. I lowered it and slowed down my words, my voice sliding out of my throat in a soft and sultry manner. Chace took a step forward and I turned away.
The bedroom was extravagantly decorated. Paintings hung from wallpapered walls, the desk in the corner was covered in books, a large wardrobe sat near the door and at least three potted plants were stuck in each corner. This house was someone’s home. Perhaps their grandchildren stayed here over the summer, running their hands over the lightly textured wall, sticking their head out the small window that looked into the backyard. All of them unaware of what happened when they weren’t there. Unaware of two strangers fucking in their bed.
Chace and I weren’t strangers but I didn’t know Nick and he didn’t know Veronica.
He closed the bedroom door behind him, the lock loudly clicking into place.
“Do you want to sit down?” he asked, motioning towards the bed. “I was thinking we could talk.”
I stepped close to him. My hand flattened against his chest as I said, “Don’t you think we’ve done enough talking?”
The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. “No. I want to ingrain the sound of voice into my head.”
I smiled. “You can do that while I’m moaning your name.”
A dark chuckle erupted from the pit of his stomach. “What about these secrets?” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Aren’t we supposed to do something with these?”
My eyes locked on his as my fingers dipped into my bra, pulling out the sweaty piece of paper. “Do you wanna go first?” I asked.
Chace took a seat on the edge of the bed. He leaned back against his elbows, his familiar smirk spreading across his lips as he said, “After you.”
I couldn’t stop from myself glancing down to his lap, the beginnings of a bulge tenting there. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting him.
“My secret is,” I opened the slip of paper. “I’ve never been in love.”
His head quirked to the side. “Is that true?”
It was. “Never, ever.” My secret carelessly dropped to the floor as I climbed on the bed, my body inches away from Chace.
I slithered behind him. My fingers curled around his shoulders, Chace leaning into the touch, his head almost rolling to the right when I said, “Your turn.”
His fingers were tight around the slip of paper, crisp and neatly folded in the middle. “My secret is…” His words died out on his tongue.
Beneath my hands I could feel his shoulders slumping forward. He balled the secret in the palm of his hand, lifting his hips to shove it into his pocket. He whipped around on the bed, his knees pressing into mine.
“You’re right. Who cares about conversation?”
My knees slid across the bed as I crawled away from. “I didn’t, until you brought it up.” My back hit the wooden headboard and my legs spread out in front of me, knees and ankles pressed together. The tips of my toes slid against Chace’s legs I crossed my arms. “What’s your secret?”
Chace’s jaw tightened, his mouth twisting into that familiar scowl. For a moment I thought he recognized me. He pushed himself off the bed, tugging at the bottom of his blazer. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Isn’t that what people do on dates? Talk? Open up?”
“You didn’t want to talk.”
“Now I do.”
He leaned forward, bending at the waist, hovering over the bottom of the bed. “Now I don’t.”
“Did you kill someone?”
Even behind his mask I could see Chace’s eyebrows furrowing. “What?”
“Is that what your secret is? That you’re some sort of murderer?”
He scowled. “No.”
“Are you secretly married?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Enough,” he growled, his teeth grinding against another as his hands formed fists at his sides.
Alice would’ve never responded but Veronica was bold. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I said.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, wandering towards the side of the bed. “Not anymore.”
He took a seat and I pushed myself from the headboard, resting on my side. “What happened?”
“She was crazy.”
I laughed. “Isn’t that what all men say?”
“If we all say it, doesn’t that mean it’s the truth?”
“No,” I said, lips pursing around the word. “It’s just what you tell yourselves so you feel less guilty about being inattentive, or unlovable, or cheaters.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, turning to look at me. “I’ve never cheated.”
Chace swung around, his stomach resting against the mattress as he slid closer to me. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, the sound it loud enough to deafen. His mouth was inches away from mine, the tips of our noses almost touching. He was staring directly into my eyes, his own electric and dark.
“I’m finished with this conversation,” he said. He rested his hand on my thigh, sliding it beneath my dress. I sucked in a breath and his grin spread wider. “How about we get started?”
Twelve
“Oh god, yeah, just like that,” Chace moaned. The guttural sound slid into my ears and traveled down to my stomach, forming a wave of pleasure that swam straight to my clit.
His jacket and tie were off, discarded towards the foot of the bed along with a pair of his most expensive shoes. (�
�Be careful with them,” he told me when I pulled them off.)
I tried to imagine what he would’ve said if he knew it was me kneeling between his open legs, his dress pants and briefs pooled around his ankles, his cock slathered in my spit as I bobbed my head up and down. He would be full of criticism, his hands resting behind his head as he directed me on how to properly suck his cock, throwing in a few yawns for good measure.
With Veronica he could barely speak, his head thrown back, exposing his Adam’s apple, as he reached down to grab the back of my wig, saying, “Fuck. I want to cum in your mouth, baby.”
Baby. He threw the pet name around like a song, chanting it from the depths of his chest as one of my hands gripped his muscular thigh, the other sliding softly around his balls.
His cock was long and thick. A sight straight out of a porno and he knew it. When he first dropped his pants his eyes were trained on my face, devouring the way my eyes widening in shock, licking his lips when I crossed my legs to stop my clit from throbbing. My mouth couldn’t handle all of him but I wrapped my lips around as much as I could, tongue pressed against the underside of his dick, the tip sliding dangerously close to the back of my throat.
Every time his cock slid deeper Chace’s back rose from the bed. The muscles in his arms tightened, sharp veins popping out of his skin. I’d never seen a sexier sight, his tanned skin flush red, his full lips parted open.
When his eyes met mine, I slid my lips from his cock and lapped at the head, my tongue sliding across the slit, a growl growing in the back of his throat. His hands found my head again, lowering it as he lifted his hips, swinging them up, down and to the sides, maneuvering his cock back into my mouth.
I could barely hear him whimpering, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” his eyes alternating between being closed and staring at his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. I slapped his balls, a wicked smile spreading across my mouth as he moaned in surprise and pleasure.