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7
Michelle
We pull up to a huge estate in Long Island and my mouth drops open as we make our way up the circular driveway. Honestly, my whole apartment complex would fit on the front lawn, it’s that big. The house has stately white pillars, as well as an elegant portico, and looks to be about three stories tall with enormous windows on both the front and sides. A fountain tinkles in the meticulously groomed garden, and we watch as formally dressed men and women laugh and chat while making their way to the red double doors.
Ben stops the car about thirty feet from the front entrance and two valets in dark overcoats immediately approach.
“Welcome, sir,” one greets. “Here for the Sim party?”
Ben nods curtly.
“Aren’t we all?”
Then, the handsome man gets out to escort me, and I slide my hand into his elbow as we make our way to the front doors. The lights are bright, and I can hear the tinkling of music even from the walkway.
Once we step inside, it’s clear that the interior of the mansion is just as lavish as the exterior. A golden foyer opens to a huge ballroom on the right, and when I glance inside, I see gleaming hardwood floors and triple height ceilings. Handsome men dressed in tuxedos stand in small groups, chatting and smoking cigars, while beautiful women clad only in lingerie smile prettily. I let out a small sigh of relief because this reminds me of a Club Z party actually. Men and women are enjoying themselves, and there’s nothing so scary about that.
“Ready to take your coat off?” Ben purrs into my ear.
I shiver and shoot him a naughty look.
“Always,” I whisper while sliding the heavy material off my shoulders. That’s when my man’s blue eyes go dark because again, my dress isn’t so much of a dress as it is a piece of lace mesh wrapped around my curves. I look down and see that the dark panel meant to cover my pussy has slid out of place, so I fix it quickly with a giggle.
“Sorry,” I titter. “Just a small wardrobe malfunction.”
Ben’s eyes gleam.
“I’ll be licking there later tonight,” he growls in my ear while handing my jacket to the coat check girl. “But come on, honey. Let’s explore a little.”
He takes my hands and guides me into a ballroom, and at first I gasp with delight at the golden chandeliers dripping with crystal, and the heavy ivory curtain swags decorating every window. But then, I do a double take because actually, there are golden pedestals set up all about the room. They’re about two feet in height, and on top of every pedestal is a beautiful woman, nude and lush. The women assume seductive poses, although they don’t make eye contact with the men surrounding them. Instead, they merely continue showing off their curves, and it’s obvious that these women are the product up for auction tonight.
My heart races as I turn questioning eyes to Ben. He merely nods, his gaze dark, while fastening a glittering leash to my collar.
“Stay close,” he growls. “Don’t leave my side.”
I nod as he pulls me deeper into the ballroom and my pulse races as I see more women posing and stroking their curves. Some women appear to love it, flipping their hair back while assuming raunchy positions. But others are more moderate, merely bumping a hip out while cupping a breast, or bending over only halfway to show off their assets.
Suddenly, a handsome man with sharp features claps Ben on the shoulder. He’s got thick blonde hair brushed away from his forehead but his eyes are a cold blue that could freeze ice. Something in the way his thin lips smirk gives me the heebie-jeebies, and I have to work to contain my shudder.
“Hey, Culver,” the strange man greets. “Glad you made it tonight.”
I look at my man and almost gasp because I don’t recognize this person as Ben. Instead of a warm, indulgent smile, this man’s features are stone-like and even cruel. Who is this person?
His lips turn up at the corners, but it’s not a smile. Instead, it looks more like a grimace.
“Vlad,” my boyfriend says in a curt tone. “How are you? I wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.”
Ah, this must be Vladimir Sim, one of the Sim brothers Ben mentioned in the car. This is likely his mansion, and his party too.
Meanwhile, the man throws his head back and lets out a laugh.
“No red-blooded American man would miss this party,” he hisses. “But it is not the men we are here to see. It is the women, isn’t that so?”
Oh my God. The wide, malevolent sneer on Vladimir Sim’s face scares me. I’m generally not afraid of the opposite sex, but there’s something about this man that makes me want to turn tail and run.
