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The modern tune draws me down the hall and into the glittery room, transformed into a speakeasy. Already, the room is crowded, the corners occupied with women in flapper dresses kissing men in fashionable tweeds. In the far corner, a woman in wide trousers and a silky blouse is being kissed by two men. Wait. Now three.
The Scene isn’t a sex club per se. There aren’t rooms you can reserve with thrones or St. Andrew’s crosses. The Scene is more of an anteroom. When you step into the private parties, you know everyone you meet will be into something…unconventional.
Almost everyone’s into role-play, but The Scene serves other kinks too. The events aren’t always masquerades but often simple cocktail parties catering to those into voyeurism or BDSM. I prefer the masquerades, since I’ve found role-play is the appetizer to what I like most in bed.
And what I like most requires time. Lots of time.
Hence my rookie mistake the other week. But I’ll correct it soon enough because there she is at the baby grand in a darkened corner. My pulse surges the second I set eyes on her.
Someone understood the assignment. Her hair is short tonight. She wears a jet-black wig, cut straight at the jawline, and a shimmery black mask, covered in silver stars.
Wait.
Stars.
That sense of déjà vu taps on my shoulder. Was my déjà vu that I’ve been thinking of her?
Well, no shit.
I thought of her nonstop since I left the Albrecht Mansion two weeks ago. I can’t get her out of my mind. Every night, she goes to bed with me. Every night, I take my cock in my hand and imagine the things I want to do to her body. The attention I want to lavish on her.
I roam my hungry eyes over her behind the piano. Her black dress is sleeveless, 1920s style, exposing the pale skin of her strong arms. I can’t see the length of her outfit from here, or her legs. But I let myself picture black strappy heels. Something incomparably sexy that I’d tell her to leave on as I spread her out on the bed so I could feast on her for a good long time.
My skin heats at the sight of her. And I just…need. I need to touch her, taste her, satisfy two endless weeks of lust and longing.
Two weeks that felt like forever.
I watch her from across the room for a few minutes, willing her to look my way. She has to look up, right? But even when she shifts from one song to the next, she keeps her head down, focused on the job.
I swing over to the bar to get a drink. A pretty woman in an emerald fringe dress and a feathery black mask sidles up against me. “How’s it going, handsome?”
She says it in that speakeasy side-of-the-mouth way. Don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want to lead her on either. “It’s going great,” I say, then nod goodbye and return to the ballroom with my whiskey.
Normally, I’d circulate, but I’ve already found the woman I want, so I’m content to watch. She’s heads-down through a few more songs. Tevin swings by, and we chat as I drink, but I steal glances at the musician all the while.
She never lifts her gaze. Never searches the room—it’s like she’s trying to hide in plain sight.
My gut swirls. When Tevin leaves to chat with others, I’ve got a sinking feeling. She doesn’t want to see me. What I don’t know is why.
I’m not going to cause a scene at The Scene, but I need to know if I’m wrong.
If I’m reading something into nothing.
I check the clock. If her break is the same time as two weeks ago, it’s coming up soon. When the clock strikes nine-fifty-five, I make my way to the library, but I don’t go inside.
I lean against the doorframe, gaze from behind my mask down the hallway. I’m casual on the outside, coiled tight on the inside. When the music stops at ten, my pulse quickens. A minute later, the tap of feminine shoes sounds on the marble floor.
She’s heading down the hall at a rapid pace, her gaze locked on the door at the end.
The restroom.
I feel like a stalker.
Hell, I am a stalker.
Especially since she turns her masked face to the left, avoiding the library side completely. She doesn’t want to see me, and that pisses me off. Just say it to my face.
I had enough games in my marriage. I won’t play them anymore.
