Page 76 of Full Circle

There was something about the man that seemed familiar, but as much as I wracked my alcohol-addled brain, I couldn’t place him. Back in the day, The Comfy Cushion was a hotspot for tourists, so it was possible he had been one of our earlier patrons. Yet he didn’t look any older than me.

Our eye contact prompted him to guzzle the rest of the drink in his hand before sauntering over.

He didn’t say a word, simply held out a white gloved hand as if presuming I had already agreed to dance with him.

I rolled my eyes at Maggie. She returned my look with an evil grin, glancing suggestively at his waiting hand.

“Welcome wagon!” she mouthed.

After we found our costumes earlier, Maggie had dragged me to her old salon, where she was still good friends with the owner. They let us use one of the spare booths so Maggie could do our hair and makeup before squeezing me into the waxer’s appointments. My skin was smoother than silk on all areas of my body, much to Maggie’s delight.

Her reminder now only made me flush. I glanced at the man, who did not seem to mind my hesitation. His hand never wavered as he waited patiently for my acceptance.

Wesley’s face burst so clearly in my mind when I slid my hand into this stranger’s that I stopped short. It wasn’t my first hallucination of him, but definitely the most intense.

The man smiled. Clasping my hand firmly, he led me further onto the dance floor. Everyone parted for him easily as though he had the god given right to be in the middle of the throng. Right as we reached the center, the song changed over to a slower melody. “I Will (When You Do)” by Avery Anna and Dylan Marlowe started playing, their crooning challenge to one another echoing the challenge in my heart. I couldn’t cheat on someone who hadn’t been present in over ten years.

So why did it feel like I was?

Maybe because there was something about the stranger in the mask that reminded me of Wesley. His eyes had the same power over me, though it was impossible to tell their true color in the smoky lowlights of the room with a mask and hat shadowing his features. The tiny bit of hair I could see underneath his top hat was so slicked back with hair product that it looked nearly black. He was taller than I remembered Wes being, but then again, memories faded with time.

The stranger spun me out, then back in, stopping me just before I collided with his chest. He dipped me back low and his head fell into my cleavage. I could feel his warm breath between my breasts as I slowly returned upright, his nose grazing my skin the entire time. Just to get my bearings, or perhaps to tease him as much as he was doing to me, I turned so that my ass was pressed into his groin, wrapping one arm up around his neck. The man leaned down, letting his mouth meet my earlobe. He briefly nipped it before murmuring, “You are a vision.”

It was so low I could barely make out the words, but they sent lightning straight between my thighs. All of the drinks were hitting me at once. Desire flooded my senses, the tequila coursing through my veins amplifying the sensation.

Just once, I wanted to forget Wesley Madden like he had forgotten me. Just once, I wanted to throw caution to the wind and do something reckless like every other woman did in their life. Days were flying by in a monotony of dark grays and black; the trajectory of my life on a loop for which there was no escape.

But this masked stranger, with his hungry stare, and impressive dance skills made me see color for the first time in years. Suddenly, I was back at the Georgia Aquarium, eyes wide to the brilliant fish and sea creatures around me. It was the same sort of sensation, where the real world was a muffled backdrop against the bright joy surrounding me. I wanted to feel like that again. Weightless and carefree.

So I chased that feeling. I leaned up and kissed the masked stranger.

The moment our lips met, all I could see or feel was Wesley. Memories of our last kiss consumed me, bringing back all of the love and bliss I used to feel in his arms. My eyes shot open, and I gasped in surprise.

For his part, the man looked equally as startled. His gloved hand brushed his lips in the wonder I knew was echoed in my own expression.

“No names. Just tonight,” I panted before launching myself at him once more. This time, his lips opened to greet me, his tongue sweeping through my mouth as though committing the taste to memory. Strong arms wound around my waist, sealing off any air between us, and I had the errant thought in the back of my mind that it had been years since I last felt this safe. It was a ridiculous thought—this man could very well be a serial killer for all I knew—but the omniscient assurance that he was going to make me happy overrode any concern of danger.

Maggie’s whoop of delight behind me drew my attention, hyper aware of the hundreds of people around us. The man offered me a small smile, keeping one arm encircled around my waist before steering me away from the crowd. We reached a darkened staircase that led up to the VIP lounge, and with a simple nod to the bouncers, the velvet rope opened to us. However, rather than leading me towards the dancers and bar area in the VIP section, the man kept a firm grip on my waist and pulled me towards the outdoor balcony overlooking downtown Savannah.

Party goers were decidedly more drunk in this part of the event. An outdoor bar was lit up with blacklights and neon painted boards created alcoves for couples to have a veil of privacy. Another DJ was set up in the corner, but the dance floor consisted of people gyrating on one another. There was far more skin exposed with these dancers than the ones inside.

The man went to the corner of the bar and grabbed two glasses with a glowstick inside the drinks before returning to me. He placed one in my hand. Rather than guiding us towards the rest of the revelry, we headed towards a wood wall with slashes of neon paint glowing ominously in the blacklights. With a forceful shove, a panel of the wall opened to a narrow hallway of sorts as the hotel’s typical lattice privacy fence stood on the other side. Once he pushed the temporary wall back into place, we were enclosed in darkness, the bass from the music still rattling the floor. Stars were just barely visible overhead as they mingled with the streetlights below and the blacklights to my left.

Our glasses clinked, a sign I interpreted as an instruction to drink. Knocking back the alcohol burned my throat far more than anything I’d tasted yet. The man pulled my drink’s glow stick, a neon blue that gave off very little light, from the glass and swirled it around the swell of my breasts. Alcohol dribbled down my cleavage, and before I could suck in a breath, the man’s tongue was there, licking the alcohol off my skin as his hands crept up the backs of my thighs. I leaned back against the lattice fence of the hotel, using the branches of whatever flowery shrub that grew there to support myself, as my knees were quickly giving way to his attention.

A long finger slipped down the corset, circling my nipple. The rest of the man’s fingers pushed their way in, forcing my tits up and over the steely ribbing, so that his tongue could work its way around my erect nipple. I moaned, the sensation sending a flood of lust between my thighs.

“Shh,” he urged me in a whisper.

But there was no way anyone could hear my cries over the loud music pounding through the speakers.

The man directed his attention to my other nipple while a hand crept up to my panties. Despite my better judgement, Maggie insisted I wear a thong tonight, claiming a sexy costume demanded sexy underwear. The scrap of lace at my entrance should have dissolved from the wetness pooling there, and when the man’s fingers swept across, he groaned around my nipple.

Without warning, two fingers were shoved inside me, plunging deep. My muscles clenched tightly at the foreign intrusion. I hadn’t ever even used a sex toy for fear of Iris discovering it, so my body was no longer acquainted with the feeling of penetration. Now, though, instinct propelled me forward, letting my knees fall open as a hand snuck down to meet his and pick up the pace. His thumb joined my index finger on my clit, swirling rapidly as the two fingers pistoned in and out of me. One of his digits curled, hitting the elusive G-spot Maggie alluded to, and I saw stars. If this was what she meant I had been missing, I would kill her for downplaying its significance.

Kisses were trailing across my breasts as the man sucked hard enough to pucker the skin. There would be marks for weeks, some part of me realized, but I was lost in the growing pressure low in my belly. When the man’s mouth worked up to my neck, licking along the edge of my jawline before nibbling on my earlobe, it only took three little words for me to shatter.

“Cum for me,” he whispered.

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