Page 2 of Heart's Masquerade

Torrian relaxed a little more. He recalled what Niles had said in the car, that “his friends” were having parties where he would be safer and no doubt fit in better. Contrary to what any of these so-called friends knew, he had been born and raised not far from where he walked now. He knew these streets as well as he knew himself. Niles liked to say he no longer belonged to this world and didn’t fit in. Perhaps he was right, but Torrian recalled when they first had this disagreement.

“You’re a respected businessman in the financial district,” Niles had argued. “You rub elbows with important people.”

At first Torrian had grown angry. His chauffeur had no right to tell him where he belonged, and the only reason he hadn’t fired the man on the spot was because he had been with him for three years at that point. Niles knew his routine. That and the fact that he genuinely liked the older man. He’d sighed then, accepting that no one understood. “These are important people, Niles,” he had said, indicating the people that weren’t born to privilege. “Don’t forget it.”

“Of course. I apologize.”

Niles had been shamed and come to know he would never change Torrian’s resolution to return each Halloween, of all times. However, each year, he kept trying, and Torrian understood he wouldn’t change the man’s views. Torrian did what he wanted to, and he would probably continue even as it brought him no satisfaction whatsoever.

He stood outside the huge red brick building with the white stone arch above its entrance. Partygoers in costume poured through the doors, and he frowned, wondering. Did it seem like more of them wore costumes this year? Maybe it was his imagination.

He stepped through the entryway into the foyer, and right away was struck with the scent of hot cocoa, cinnamon, and pumpkin. Real jack-o’-lanterns decorated two red-cloth covered tables. More covered the walls, and from the ceiling hung wads of cobwebs and black spiders. So far, whoever had decorated for the party had gone far beyond what anyone had done in previous years. He was impressed.

A couple of guys bumped Torrian from behind and brushed past. Torrian recognized the redhead who didn’t bother excusing himself or acknowledging Torrian’s existence. “Damn, these decorations are wicked awesome! I knew it would be different this year.”

The redhead’s friend agreed. “Bet it was Jaz who did it.”

Redhead swore. “She thinks she’s one of us. How much you want to bet I’ll have to hit the packy later?”

“Hey!”

Both men spun around to face the sexy kitten who stood just inside the foyer. Torrian looked, too. She was a mocha-colored beauty with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. He judged her to be no more than five foot five or six, but what she lost in height, she made up in vibrancy the way she pinned her gaze on the two men.

Torrian didn’t approach but studied the woman. Small breasts, less than a handful, a semiflat belly, but round hips, and from what he could glimpse a nice ass. She waggled a finger at the men. “We have a temporary license for beer and liquor tonight, and if you’re coming to the party, Billy Montgomery, you’re going to buy your alcohol here to benefit the children, not the corner packy.”

Billy, that was his name, Torrian recalled. He’d been two years behind Torrian in school.

“I know, I know, Jaz,” Billy said.

So this woman was Jaz. Torrian would have remembered her if he’d ever met her. Tonight, she and another woman manned the table, selling last-minute tickets to the party and collecting those that had been purchased earlier. As the line dwindled ahead of Torrian, he couldn’t help staring at Jaz. She’d worn a cat costume, common but oh so sexy on her. The material hardly covered much other than her more delicate parts. She’d paired the animal-print-and-black bra and panties with fishnet black thigh-highs, hooked to garters. A fuzzy tail swished back and forth as if it were real, and on her feet she wore five-inch heels.

Torrian had met plenty of beautiful African American women he wouldn’t mind sampling, but she seized his attention and wouldn’t let go. He drew up to the table and held out his ticket. She offered him a bright smile and tilted her head to the side. “You skimped on the costume.”

He forced himself not to stare at her body up close. “I’m sorry. Not many dress for these things.”

The beauty held up a finger. “That was before I took over planning. If you look around, you’ll see even the diehards are dressed.” She leaned toward him, and he got an up close and personal view of the swell of her small but perfect breasts. “We’re giving away a great prize. Now, to make up for disappointing me, you’re going to have to give a lot.”

He blinked. For an instant, he thought she knew who he was. Then common sense returned. The yearly party at this community center benefited the various other charity events in the area and the less fortunate who couldn’t afford memberships at the city-sponsored community center.

“Uh, of course,” he agreed.

“Good.” She flashed another smile at him.

Torrian started to move away, but then he stopped. “What’s your name?”

She eyed him up and down, and he felt his cock twitch, hoping she didn’t notice. “Jazara Crane, but everyone calls me Jaz. Nice to meet you…”

“Tor,” he provided and hurried on before she could demand a last name. He’d been foolish to ask hers if he hadn’t had a fake name ready to give in return. The Donnelly name was well-known, if not for him at least for his hotheaded cousin Kenny. He didn’t care to let anyone here recognize him. A fun night among real people where he remained anonymous and then it was back home until next year. That was how it always was, and he wouldn’t change it now.

Torrian moved farther into the center and discovered Jaz hadn’t lied. Witches, vampires, ghosts, all the usuals, and even more exotic costumers cluttered the place. In fact, he found the men who had shown with just a mask like he did were in the minority. Had Jaz influenced so many in what was obviously a short time? After all, he had been here for the Halloween party last year, and she hadn’t. Who was she?

Torrian traversed through the building a few times, starting out in the main hall where the dancers convened and music blared through the speakers. Another room held tables of food and drinks. Someone had unlocked the gym so that there were demons, priests, and prostitutes shooting hoops.

He shook his head at the crowded halls and the lines to the bathrooms, and headed back to the dance hall. By then, Jaz occupied a corner, surrounded by a group of men, whom she tossed smiles at and seemed to have wrapped around her finger. Another woman, who had stood at the door with her, popped in front of him.

“Hello, you forgot your flyer,” she said.