A Date for the Masquerade

by Dover, L. P.

  “I was trying to learn the Batdance.”

  “I’m sorry, the what?”

  “Don’t you remember when Prince created the Batdance?”

  “Yes. . .” I let the word linger in the air, afraid of where this might go.

  “The DJ called to let us know there will be a line dance or two, so I suggested the Batdance.”

  I don’t know what hits my face first, my palm, or my fist. “Damien, what the hell? No one knows the damn Batdance.” I pick his mask up off the floor and toss it at him. Before I leave the doorway of his office, I say, “If that dance happens, I have a feeling you’ll be by yourself out there. Not sure anyone will want to talk to you after that unless there’s a Catwoman who was obsessed with Michael Keaton.”

  After I leave Damien’s office, I gather my things and head over to the hotel. I have a room for the night, and after the party starts, hotel staff will come in with a bottle of champagne, some strawberries, and they’ll spread rose petals around the room. I have high hopes, and if this fails, I don’t know what I’ll do to get her attention. I’m past the point of telling her the truth.

  It takes me just over two hours to get ready. Every second my heartbeat raced faster and my nerves felt as if they were trying to poke out of my body. When the alarm on my phone goes off, I silence it, stand in front of the mirror, fix my suit jacket, adjust my mask, and hold my empty martini glass in my hand. I hold the glass up in salute.

  “I’m one sexy looking Jay Gatsby,” I say to my reflection.

  I step out of my room and into the hall. Others are walking by, dressed up. I keep my head down, not wanting anyone to recognize me, just yet. I want to look for Ensley through the crowd and not find her randomly in the hallway.

  By the time I reach the lobby, it’s packed. The line to get in is out the door. “Holy shit,” I mutter as I look at every one. I make my way to the ballroom, and my mouth drops open. The entire space has cobwebs coming from the ceiling, each high-top table has dry ice on it, so it looks like they’re steaming. Fog machines are doing their job and hiding everyone’s feet. But what gets me is the lighting. I expected orange, but Ensley and Jordan decided to go with purple. I never thought of it as a Halloween color until now.

  With nothing left to lose, I make my way around the room, looking into the eyes of every woman I stop and talk to. A couple of them ask me to dance, and when I politely decline, one woman says to me, “If you don’t find your Daisy, maybe you like Anastasia better.”

  I don’t have a clue who Anastasia is, but she doesn’t have green eyes, so she’s not the one for me.

  5

  Ensley

  The party is a success.

  The ballroom is decorated from top to bottom and it’s a full house. The bartenders are going to make serious bank tonight with all the tips they’re getting. As I walk around, I listen in on some of the conversations. People are getting to know each other and having fun in the process. It wouldn’t surprise me if all the hotel rooms get booked up tonight. There’s something about the anonymity of a masquerade party that gets the endorphins going. Granted, most of these people are probably exchanging names, not like what I did with my mystery man a month ago.

  I walk over to the bar station and order a glass of Riesling. Jordan comes up beside me, dressed as a sexy pirate. “I’ll have a glass of the same,” she tells the bartender.

  We take our glasses and move to the side of the ballroom out of everyone’s way. I take a sip of my wine and smile. “Where’s Captain Hook?” I ask.

  She snickers. “Up in the hotel room. He says he’s going to plunder his booty when I get in there.”

  Tilting my head back, I burst out laughing. “Okay, then. That’s nice to know.”

  Jordan winks. “It’ll be fun. With all the sex we’ve been having I’m hoping to get pregnant soon.”

  I tap her glass of wine with my finger. “You could already be. Might want to stay away from the alcohol.”

  Her eyes widen and she hastily hands me her wine. “True. I need to be careful just in case.”

  Now I have two glasses of wine. The last time I drank on the job, I ended up in a hotel room with the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. What’s crazy is I have no clue what his face looks like, only his eyes. They were gray with a gold rim around the pupils. His mask covered his forehead and down over his nose and right cheek, almost like the phantom in The Phantom of the Opera, but made completely different. It was all black and elegant.

  I finish off one and set the empty glass down on the high-top table. Jordan giggles and places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m surprised you haven’t been bombarded with men tonight. You’re looking sexy as all get out right now. Who are you? Daisy Buchanan?”

  I look down at my shimmering silver flapper dress and smile. I even pinned my long red hair to make it look like a bob. “I didn’t really like her in The Great Gatsby, but the woman has style.”

  Jordan nods. “That she does.” She bumps me with her hip. “All right, I’m going to make some rounds and talk to people. Will you be okay here all alone?”

  I hold up my glass of wine. “I’ll be fine by myself. Go have fun and mingle.”

  She disappears through the crowd just as the DJ plays “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. The crowd goes wild and rushes to the dance floor. I’m curious to see if anyone knows the actual dance. Some of them are close, but others flail around in their attempts. It’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.

  “Having fun?”

  I’m so engrossed in watching the dancing I didn’t realize someone had come up beside me. The guy is dressed as Ferris Bueller, complete with the gold and black vest and a tan jacket over top of that. Instead of wearing a mask, he has on sunglasses. I have to say, he nailed the look.

  “I am having fun,” I tell him. “Are you?”

  He shrugs. “I would be if you dance with me.”

  Over the years, if you pay attention, most people become more knowledgeable about others. Take for instance, first impressions. I’ve gotten to where I can tell if a guy is a dirtball by his demeanor and the way he speaks. I’m definitely getting the sleazebag vibe from this guy. My mother always says to trust my instincts, they’ll never steer me wrong. My instincts haven’t let me down yet.

  “Thanks, Ferris, but I don’t think so right now. Enjoy the party.”

  His smile falls and he backs away. I’m thirty-two-years old and still single. Granted, I’ve dated a lot, but none of those men had the full package. Some might say I’m picky, but after being with my mystery man last month, I doubt anyone will ever compare to him. I haven’t been with anyone since. I’ve had a few lovers in my lifetime and none of them come close. It’s a little discouraging to think that way, but it’s the truth.

  Once I’m done with my wine, I walk around the outskirts of the room. In a way, I’m envious of how much fun everyone is having. Most of the guests look to be in their early to mid-twenties, still young and full of life. All of my friends are married and having kids right now. On the weekends, if Jordan and I aren’t hosting a party, I find myself just sitting in my living room with a movie and a tub of raw chocolate chip cookie dough.

  There’s a dark corner just behind the DJ station so I go over there to stand. The Batdance song by Prince comes on and it’s strange because everyone starts to move away from the center of the dancefloor. That’s when Batman comes into view. I’ve seen the line dance on video, but never before in person. Whoever the guy is on the dancefloor is a hoot. Everyone watches him with utter fascination.

  “You either have to have a lot of guts or just be outright insane to do what he’s doing.”

  My breath catches in my lungs. That voice. I know I’ve heard it before. Slowly, I turn my head and there he is, wearing the same mask he wore a month ago and staring at me with those gray eyes of his. His gaze roams up and down my body. “Guess I chose right being Gatsby. I see I’ve found my Daisy.”

  He’s a very sexy Gatsby, indee
d. His suit fits him perfectly. His slicked back hair in a high comb over was a popular hair style for men in the twenties. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again,” I say. His smile makes everything inside of me tighten. The need to have him is real and intoxicating. Maybe it’s because it’s been a month since I’ve had any kind of release.

  “Same,” he replies, edging closer to me. “I have to admit, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His eyes fall to my left hand. “I don’t see a ring. Hopefully, that means you’re still single.”

  “I am,” I breathe. “And with you being here, I’m assuming you are too?”

  He backs me up to the wall, his body so close to mine. “I am.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” I ask, whispering the words across his lips.

  His lips pull back and all I want to do is kiss him. “Well,” he begins, “we can stay down here and talk and dance for a while. Or…we can go upstairs to my hotel room and talk there. It’s your choice.”

  Talk? There won’t be much of that going on if we go to his room. It’s crazy to even consider going with him, but I know how amazing he is. The way he held me, the way he passionately made love to me even though love wasn’t even in the equation. I’ve heard of other people’s one-night stands, most of them being fast and to the point. Our one-night stand wasn’t like that at all. I scan the crowd for Jordan and she looks at me just as I spot her. The second she sees my Gatsby, she smiles and mouths the word go.

  Gatsby holds out his hand and I take it. The electricity between us shoots up my arm like fire. “Let’s go,” I murmur.

  Bringing my hand up to his lips, he kisses it. “As you wish.”

  Hand in hand, we walk out of the ballroom and as soon as we get to the elevator, he lets my hand go and wraps his arm around my waist. My heart skips a beat and I can feel the butterflies going crazy in my stomach. We take the elevator to the very top floor where the most expensive rooms are.

  He takes me to the last door at the end of the hallway. When he opens it, I gasp as I walk in. Inside, there are rose petals scattered across the floor with a bottle of champagne chilling by the bed. He comes up behind me and presses his lips to my neck. “Are we keeping the masks on again?”

  The warmth of his lips makes my skin tremble with anticipation. “I want to say no, but I can’t.” I turn around in his arms. “Last month was the first time I’ve ever done anything like this with anyone. Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true. If we break the spell…”

  He presses a finger to my lips. “I think you are too good to be true. I want you to know who I am, but I don’t want to lose what we have here.”

  “Then let’s just have this one night. If we run into each other again, we’ll figure it out then. Right now, I just want to have tonight with you.”

  His eyes twinkle. “I can live with that.” His lips close over mine, kissing me deeply. I can’t think straight with him doing that. I don’t want to. I want to lose myself in his touch. He breaks the kiss first and stares down at me again. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  I lift my hands to his face. “Yes.”

  All it would take is a simple tug on the ribbons to unmask him. I want to know who he is, but I can’t bring myself to do it. He brushes a thumb over my lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

  My body knows what it wants. There’s no denying it. Grabbing his face, I pull his lips down to mine. “I want you. I wish you knew how bad.”

  The low growl escapes his lips making my body tighten in all the right places. “Probably not nearly as much as I’ve wanted you. There’s so much you don’t know.”

  Taking his hand, I place his fingers on the side zipper of my dress. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me.”

  His eyes darken, and he slowly lowers the zipper of my silver flapper dress. Keeping his eyes on mine, he slides my dress down my body. My skin is on fire and all I can think about is feeling him inside of me.

  He moans deep in his chest when he gazes down at me with his sexy gray and golden eyes, licking his lips. Kissing the mounds of my breasts, he lowers the fabric over one and begins to suck on my taut, sensitive nipple while reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. He shoves it away, keeping his lips enclosed over my breast. The need to have him grows more intense with every touch.

  It’s strange how my body responds to him, almost as if I’m starved for his touch. I’ve never been like that with any other man. My underwear is soaked and I’m so close to letting go. Fumbling with his pants, I try desperately to get them undone so I can wrap my fingers around his cock and feel it pulsate with my touch. He rips off his button down shirt and jacket, revealing his muscular smooth chest, and then helps me out and kicks off his pants when I have them undone. As soon as he’s free, I take him in my hands and squeeze, pumping him up and down.

  “That feels so damn good,” he groans.

  Harder and faster I stroke his length, enjoying the satisfied rumble in his chest. With his arm around my waist, he moves me to the bed and lays me down, taking off my underwear so he can spread my legs wide with his knee. Keeping his gaze on mine, he kisses me gently at first and then harder as he pushes his fingers inside of me. Gasping from the sensations, I open wider for him, loving the sound of his satisfied moans.

  “Harder,” I beg, spreading my legs wider.

  He does as I say, and I’m so close to losing control. Tightening around his fingers, he bites down on my lip and sucks as I cry out in pleasure, riding the waves of my orgasm. Slowly, he rubs my sensitive clit with his thumb and swirls his fingers in the wetness between my legs. Keeping his gaze on mine, he traces my nipples with my desire, and sucks them both greedily. Tasting me. Devouring me. My body craves him. He reaches over to the bedside table drawer and pulls out a condom. He strokes himself a few times, grinning at me mischievously, before sliding the condom down his length. He gets back into position and I can feel his cock pressing closer to my opening. As soon as he pushes in just a tiny bit, I gasp.

  “The noises you make turn me on so fucking much,” he growls low.

  Almost instantly, he pushes inside of me…hard. I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I rock my hips along with his and hold on tight, biting my lip more with each thrust. The muscles in his back tighten and flex as he works his body into mine. I rake my nails down his back, to his ass, loving the way it hardens with each thrust.

  I’m so close to losing it again, my body clenching achingly tight around his cock.

  My breaths come out as pants as the ache between my legs grows stronger, wilder. We’re both so close, and the moment I tip over the edge, I dig my nails into his back just as he grips onto me tighter, plunging in as deep as he can go, his cock pulsating with his release. Breathing hard, he takes my face in his hands.

  “Please say you’re staying longer with me tonight. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

  I lean up and kiss him. “I’m not going anywhere. Yet.”

  6

  Owen

  I’ve been awake for three hours and in my office for two, pacing the floor and watching the clock slowly tick away at the minutes. I’ve never watched the clock so much in my life until now and never realized how painstakingly slow time moves when there is something you desperately want.

  I want Ensley.

  The problem is, I’ve had her. . .twice. By twice, I mean two nights. I’m not a guy who only pleasures his woman once and bails, at least not with Ensley. I can’t seem to get enough of her. I wish she felt the same way about me because I hate waking up to an empty bed in the morning. I even “accidentally” set my alarm so I could see her in the early morning. Only when the damn thing blared at five in the morning, her side of the bed was cold. I’m going to have to learn to cuddle or something, so I can feel her slip out of my arms next time.

  Next time.

  It must happen.

  We have to happen without our masks. I can’t continue like this, but something tells me
Ensley enjoys it. Sure, there’s a thrill to it, not knowing who you’re with, but I’m really hoping she’s only like this with me. I don’t want to think about perfect Ensley screwing half of the guys in the city who are wearing masks. The thought makes me shudder.

  The more I think about the whole mask thing, the more creeped out I am at myself for allowing it to happen a second time. I wanted to tell Ensley who I was or am, and I should’ve but one look at her, dressed up as Daisy to my Gatsby, and I was a fumbling fool. But I wasn’t going to deny her. Ensley wanted to keep our masks on. Believe me, I had the temptation to slip mine off as soon as I entered her. I wanted her to know it wasn’t Jay Gatsby making her feel this way. It was Owen Jameson.

  Finally, the clock reads nine. I rush to my desk and sit. Only, the force I landed in my chair causes me to roll away from my desk. To make matters worse, I try to stop myself and take half the papers and file with me.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I look at the floor and the mess I created. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

  You’re in love.

  I look over my right shoulder and then my left, wondering where that sentiment came from. I’m not the guy who believes in an angel and the devil battling it out when it comes to my decisions, but I swear there’s a voice in my head telling me how I feel.

  The papers stay on the floor. I’ll get my assistant to sort through them for me later. And I’ll likely blame the wind or something. She doesn’t need to know how excited I was to make a phone call this morning.

  I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and let the air out of my lungs slowly. I’m centered even though my heart is beating rapidly, and my mind is conjuring up pictures of Ensley sprawled out on the bed. Naked, of course, except for her mask. At least, I know what she looks like. I pick up the receiver and dial her number, which I’ve memorized.

  Ensley answers on the second ring. “This is Ensley.”

  “Good morning, Ensley.”