Page 21 of Cross My Heart

I whirl around, startled. It’s a short man, impeccably suited, with a red silk mask covering his face. “Where are you going?” he demands, sloshing champagne from his glass. “The fun’s just getting started!”

“Thanks, but this isn’t really my scene.” I politely pull away.

He lets out a cackle of laughter. “This? This is just the prelude, my dear. Haven’t you experienced midnight before?”

Midnight? I pause, confused. “Umm, sure. It comes every night.”

“Then you’re a lucky girl,” he says, smirking. “The rest of us have to wait for that very special invitation…”

I’m just about to ask what on earth he means, when the music suddenly stops. A low drumroll sounds, and the whole crowd stills, hushing in clear anticipation.

“Here it is,” the man says with delight. “The stroke of midnight…”

The ballroom doors swing open, and a procession of masked performers in their elaborate historical costumes and wigs slowly walks in as a clock chimes midnight. I wonder if they’re about to perform some kind of dramatic reading, or musical number, but when they reach the center of the room, they pause there, as if basking in the attention.

All eyes are on them. You could hear a pin drop. And then, they each slowly move towards the performer closest to them and start to undress each other.

Unlacing the gowns. Peeling off the ruffled shirts and cummerbunds. Clothing falls to the floor—and it doesn’t stop.

Wait a minute.My eyes widen, watching as the performers closest to me begin unlacing each other’s petticoats, slipping the sheer fabric over their shoulders, and off their chests, fingers tracing softly; touch caressing bare skin and stiff, peaked nipples as the last scraps of silk drift to the polished floors.They’re not going to…

But they are.

Before the chimes of midnight come to an end, the group is standing in front of us, completely naked, save for their masks. They stand there, posing, proud, drinking in the attention of the rapt, expectant crowd.

And then the music starts, and I realize that this is only the beginning.

Chapter7

Tessa

What kind of party is this?

I stand there, frozen in thrilled shock, as the elaborate ball turns into… Well, I’m not really sure, but I’m guessing it’s the reason for the anonymous masks, and the confiscated phones. The orchestral music turns seductive, the naked performers acting like guides in this new, decadent scene of debauchery. They move through the crowd, pulling guests onto the dancefloor and into dark corners, undressing them, and pairing them off with other newcomers. One of them tries to take me by the hand and bring me to a couple who are already stripping off their formal clothes, sensually touching each other as they peel the fabric away. The woman glances up, beckoning me to join them, but I shake my head, blushing furiously, and scamper back into the shadows where nobody can see me.

What the hell is going on?

My heart is racing as I watch the party turn sensual and explicit before my very wide eyes. A woman in sheer black lingerie lays back on a velvet chaise, as two men pour champagne over her, licking the liquid from her damp skin—and then parting her legs to feast even more. Behind them, a couple is slow-dancing a tango, completely naked in the center of the room, the air between them shimmering with tension and heat. More of the guides are passing out platters of party favors, and when one comes close enough, I can see the silver tray is set with condoms, lube, and silk restraints; sex toys and accessories being circulated likehors d’oeuvresamongst the guests.

I watch it all, mesmerized. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that things like this actually happened! Between the pages of my spicy romance reads? Sure.

But in the real world?

Apparently so. If you have the right connections to make it past the door.

I grab another drink, and take a long gulp, working up the courage to venture out of my hidden corner, and stroll slowly through the crowd. My initial shock is giving way to the bright spark of curiosity now, and even though a part of me still wants to bolt for the exit, a larger part wants to drink up every shocking sight and sound that I can.

I’ve always wondered… Imagined…Fantasized. What it would be like to experience all the things I’ve only read about. How it would feel, to taste those things for myself. And now, with these incredible scenes unfolding all around me, I can’t resist.

I want to see it all.

I circle the ballroom and find that there are many doors leading off the main space into smaller rooms, more intimate environments. Hidden behind my mask, I don’t feel shy about peeking in, and discovering just what these rarified guests will do with no limits, or consequence holding them back. In one room, I find a group of women, tending to just one man. Holding him down, devouring him with their hands and mouths, riding his cock and mouth, as he writhes and cries out with hoarse pleasure. In the next, a woman is bent over a low table, her mouth wrapped around one man’s cock, sucking him down greedily as another fucks her slowly from behind: skirt flipped up and bodice tugged down to reveal pert breasts, damp with the sweat that a third masked, naked woman is licking from them.

It’s shocking. Sensual.

Sexy as hell.

And I’m not the only one observing, I realize. For every breathless couple —or threesome, or group—writhing in sensual delight, there are people just like me, sitting on the edge of the room, watching every thrilling moment. Touching themselves, and each other.

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