Page 3 of Mahogany 1

“Y’all have a good night. Ain’t shit over here for y’all,” he continued, sending the couple the other way.

After a few seconds, he slid his arms from around my waist and sat beside me. That was… exhilarating. The rush that flooded my being when he touched me. The assertiveness when he spoke. The dominance. The…everything.

“You alright?” He softly asked, staring into my eyes again, through the mask.

Nervously, I nodded. No, I wasn’t okay. I was a mess. Discombobulated. Filled with that heavy, invigorating energythat was not mine. My knees even buckled. My heart began to race faster as I began to wonder, what next? Fuck right at the bar? Did he want more? Was I… his? For the night? Shit. He… I wasn’t sure if I could dothatwith him. Communicate. Lock eyes again.Exist.

To relax a little, I took a long swig of my drink, finishing it, before asking the bartender where the restroom was. He pointed, giving me directions and I stood up to go. But not before he told me to be careful, with a light laugh. The guy who’d save me said nothing… just watched as I walked off. I could feel his brown eyes on me with every step I took, urging me to look over at him. Except, I didn’t. Couldn’t. Felt like if I would have, he would have swallowed me up. Figuratively. Hell, maybe literally, too.

The walk to the restroom was just as chaotic as the walk to the bar. However, this time, if my attention was pulled somewhere, I didn’t stare for too long, make eye contact or wink. The only thing I did was say a few ‘excuse me’s’. When I made it to the restroom, I was surprised to see that it was empty.

Standing at the sink, I turned the faucet on and ran my hands over the cold water to ground myself. My nerves were shot. A lot worst than what they were earlier. Pacing, I mumbled under my breath, battling again between staying and leaving. It was clear to me that Pandora’s truly wasn’t a place for me. But I wanted to thank him. And despite how heavily intimidating he was, I wanted to do more than thank him. Wanted to actually talk to him. Get to know him. To see where things could possibly go. I stopped pacing, stood at the sink, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The lady at the check-in desk said there was a VIP suite. Should I? The short answer was yes. Could I? I wasn’t sure. Maybe… just maybe after a few drinks I could. I couldn’t escape the way his hands felt, sliding against my waist, or the way hisbeard felt against the side of my neck as he whispered in my ear. I… I felt a way. Guilty for sure. But more turned on than anything.

Taking my mask off, I snatched a few pieces of paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed at my dewy makeup. The mask was suffocating but… I needed it. Maybe I’d remove it if we…What the hell was I thinking? I was tripping. But I would be lying if I said tripping… maybing…didn’tsound like a good ass time. Just one night of giving into something that was completely out of character wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

I looked into the mirror and told myself to calm down. With a nervous swallow, I decided that I’d get back to the bar and see where a few shots and the rest of the night would take me.

Sadly, when I made it back to the bar, he wasn’t there. That stool now occupied by a beautiful woman. It was almost as if he hadn’t been there at all, the way the bartender ignored me as I sat back down. Beckoning him, he chucked his chin as to say what’s up.

“Where did he go?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, my man’s? Shit, I don’t know. He got up about a minute after you left, paid for your drink, and walked off.”

Eagerly, I scanned the crowd, looking for him. There were so many men in suits that it was hard to find him from the bar and I was far too nervous to walk around. Eventually, I pushed past my nerves, got up, and walked the floor. Looking up at the second level, where the VIP suites were, I searched for him there too. It wasn’t until I looked towards the exit that I spotted him, getting his coat from the check-in desk. I pushed through the crowds, trying to catch him before he walked out. But to no avail—by the time I got to the door, he was already gone.

“Leaving already?”

Quickly, I turned around at the sound of Emerald’s voice.

“Let’s talk,” she said, before interlocking her arm with mine.

“How did you?—?”

“How did I know you were you in your mask?” She asked, as we shuffled through the crowd. She did the hostess thing, spoke to patrons, and me? I looked over my shoulder, hoping the guy had come back inside. “I knew you were you because it’s my business to know, masked or not.” She sized me up. “Looking for someone?”

“There was a guy… Tall, light brown skin, tailored dark gray Armani suit. You know him, too?”

She laughed. “I couldn’t tell you if I did.”

Sighing, I looked over my shoulder again, pissed. I… I wanted to—I wanted to what? Commit adultery with a complete stranger? Well… yes? Maybe? Regardless, I did want to thank him.

“You look amazing. I knew your curves were crazier underneath those pant suits,” she told me before hitting the up button to call for the elevator.

“Thank you. Why did you—what do you want to talk about Emerald?”

She smiled. “You.”

The elevator doors opened, and we took it up to the top floor, where I’d helped her with most of the décor. The penthouse—her office. Once we were inside, she got to talking about how the color scheme of silver, gold, and black with a touch of emerald-green was to die for. I didn’t want to talk about design. I was too upset about missing that guy to really engage. More upset by the fact that she’d recognized me. I didn’t want her to know I responded to the invite. But of course, she’d know. It was her establishment, and she had access to everything.

“You know,” she started, as she ran her hand over the backing of one of the black, suede couches. “I flagged your name.I was notified the minute you checked in. Had it set up that way because I knew you’d come.”

I watched her with my arms crossed over my chest. “How? I’m married?—“

She laughed. “Exactly. Can you guess how many married people are members here?” With an attitude, I shrugged. “Ninety-eight percent.” She shook her head and sighed, making her way over to me, standing at the end of the hallway that led us into her office. “But that’s not why I invited you. I invited you because underneath all of that charm and those forced smiles, I can see you. The truth, rather. Mahogany, you are miserable. You have the aura of a woman who’s been through too much, and not enough toe-curling orgasms.” Reaching up, she took my mask off. “So, I invited you. Something I don’t do ever. But I saw something in you and said… you know what? Fuck it. You needed to be…” she laughed. “Pandora’ed.”

“Thank you but I’m fine. I don’t need to be “Pandora’ed”.”

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