Saturday arrives, and my heart can't stop beating to a faster than normal rhythm. The butterflies in my stomach indicate the level of excitement, anticipation and nervousness I feel since they flutter stronger and stronger as 5:30 p.m. approaches.
Tracy meets me at 9 a.m., and we commence our Saturday morning routine of yoga followed by coffee. I rush home to shower, get my hair and nails done, and Tracy comes over to help me get ready. Our conversation is heightened by my nerves, and she knows I'm more distracted than usual because of the possibilities the night will bring.
Finally, 5:30 rolls around. I take a deep breath, and teetering on my stilettos, I peek out the window. Sure enough, a shiny, sleek Rolls Royce Ghost waits outside my townhouse. Tracy helps me slip on my opera gloves, tucks my phone into my clutch, and reminds me again to text her if I feel uncomfortable at any time. I give her a hug, and we step outside, locking the door behind us.
The chauffeur rounds the vehicle and opens the back passenger door. "Miss," he says as he touches his cap.
"Oh, he's good," I think. I may look younger than my age, but it's been a long time since I could believably be called a Miss. I wink, flash a big smile at Tracy, and get into the car. She watches us pull away as a mix of concern, excitement and I think a dash of jealousy plays across her face.
After about 30 minutes we arrive at a large mansion in the high-rent district of Denver. Lights softly line the walkway and steps to the front door, and I can see shapes moving behind the closed curtains. I quickly pull out my phone and am relieved to see I have strong cell coverage. I check my mask, hair and lipstick in my compact and step out of the opened door thanking the driver and offering a tip which he refuses. I make my way up the steps to the front door and with a bit of trepidation, open it and walk through.
Not surprisingly, the entryway is stunning. High ceilings, beautiful art and decor line the walls along with an extremely large floral arrangement on a table in the foyer. A greeter meets me as I walk in and takes me to a table where event staff are checking names. I give my name but apologize for not RSVPing. The planner smiles, finds my name on her iPad and hands me a long-stemmed red rose. "Welcome, Ms. Beauchamp. Enjoy the ball," she chirps in her effervescent voice.
The mansion is dazzling with lavish decor, expensive furniture, floral arrangements (some with cascading vines down the walls), lush velvet and sheer fabrics, intricate sconces holding flickering candles and beautiful chandeliers casting soft lighting throughout the various rooms. I feel like I've been transported back in time to an era when lavish balls for nobility were the norm.
People dressed elegantly in gorgeous ball gowns and tailored tuxedos mingle throughout the rooms leading off the foyer and hall. Their masks hide their faces, but I can see delight and mischief dancing in their eyes. Servers dressed in black pass hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine and champagne. I take a glass of champagne from a passing tray and sip nervously. Obviously I don't recognize anyone, but I don't usually have trouble at social engagements and can hold my own at the "booze and schmooze" events my company throws for clients and prospects. I walk up to a foursome chatting nearby when a lag in their conversation provides an opportunity.
We make polite small talk to start, and I quickly learn both men belong to this mysterious brotherhood, and the women are their wives. One, a statuesque blonde, I guess mid-30s, towers over me. I'm about 5'2", and in heels, close to 5'7". She must be at least 5'9" without heels. She has a cool demeanor but isn't unfriendly as she welcomes me and asks if this is my first event with the brotherhood. I smile as I answer and finish the glass of champagne. Almost immediately, a server appears to take my empty glass and offers me a new one which I accept. The first glass has made me a bit giddy, and I realize I should eat something. Bubbles typically go straight to my head, but I love the feeling, and the label being served is quite good. The other woman is older, maybe in her 50s, heavyset and very funny. Her reddish-brown hair is piled on her head in an elegant updo, and her neck, ears, hands and wrists drip with jewels. She's holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres, and I ask her to point me in the direction of the food. She laughs, a great laugh, and says she'll join me; she wants more. I've almost finished my second glass of champagne and am really feeling the effects. Before we can leave our group, a hand grips my elbow. Startled, I turn and am met with a broad chest in an impeccable tux. I slowly move my gaze up and am captivated by the most exquisite eyes I've ever seen accentuated by the black mask hiding his face.
He smiles confidently, and my heart skips a beat. I swallow the last of my champagne and place it on the tray of a server who's once again magically appeared. "Would you like another?" the server asks. I shake my head slowly, my gaze still captivated by those mesmerizing eyes.
The two men I've been conversing with straighten; it seems like a show of respect, so I wonder if this mystery man is an officer in this brotherhood. One of the husbands starts to say something, but mystery man gives him a look, and he stops talking. Mystery man glances to his side and motions me in that direction. I look at the people I've been chatting with and they don't seem concerned. The robust redhead grins at me, and the blonde tosses her hair. I take their lack of concern to mean he's at least somewhat trustworthy so I turn in the direction he motioned. He once again takes my elbow as he steers me out of the room.
"Where are we going?" I ask. He puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. "You're not going to tell me? Why should I let you take me?" I ask and stop walking. He sighs, and it's somehow familiar, but only my subconscious recognizes that. He puts his finger under my chin and raises my face so I'm once again looking in his eyes. He's tall. Even in killer heels, the top of my head only reaches his shoulder. "I..." I don't finish my sentence before his lips are on mine, firm, insistent, breathtakingly good. Wow. My heart is pounding. I should be outraged. How dare he! But all my mind registers is his heat, his commanding presence, his intoxicating scent, his strong arms as my hands reach out and grab his biceps to steady myself. My lips part at my surprise, and he takes advantage, sliding his tongue along mine, biting my lower lip, kissing me madly, passionately. We're in the middle of a hallway at a swanky masquerade ball acting like teenagers in a make-out session. I break away, trying to catch my breath. I've never been kissed like that. It was incredible. I can't look at him. I know if I do I'll melt into a puddle on the floor and ruin the carpeting.
Once again, he lifts my chin to meet his eyes. I see humor behind them and mischief and power and desire, and I'm lost. Dammit. How can I be lost to someone I don't know? All I know, is I'd follow him anywhere right now, so when he grabs my elbow and leads the way, I go compliantly.
We walk down the hallway away from the noise of the party to a door at the end on the side. He opens it, and I see a staircase leading down. I look at him, questioning him with my eyes but he just nods his head and guides me to the stairs. My brain is screaming at me. "What are you doing? He could be a crazy psychopath? Why are you letting him take you downstairs? You don't even know where you're going." I tell myself to hush and trust for once. We're at an elegant party. If there was danger, my spidey senses would be tingling, but that's not the part of me that's tingling. I'm not going to think; I'm going to feel. I know I'm under his spell, and I'm hoping he's not nuts.
We descend the stairs, and the air gets colder, the light dim. I shiver. He takes his tux jacket off and wraps it around my shoulders. I smile, but I don't know if he can see it. At the bottom of the stairs, candles flicker in sconces. The air is cool. We round a corner, and we're in the largest and most beautiful wine cellar I've ever seen. There's a large wooden table in the middle of the room, set for two with elegant place settings, several glasses in different sizes for different wine varietals. The champagne flutes have been filled as have the water glasses. I look around for servers or anyone else, but it's just the two of us. He still hasn't spoken a word.
I admire him in his black vest and white tuxedo shirt. I can tell he exercises and is in good shape but not bulky. Fit, athletic, broad chest, long torso, strong legs. He walks to the table to get the champagne glasses, and I sneak a glance at his ass. Holy hell. I swallow again. I love a nice ass on a man, and in those tuxedo pants I can tell his is spectacular. Pulling my leering gaze away I notice the artwork around the room and the many bottles of wines aging all around us. The room is circular and quite beautiful. It combines the modern and the traditional together effortlessly, and the outcome is breathtaking.
He hands me a glass, raises his in a silent toast, clinks with mine and takes a sip. I smile and sip, too. He takes my glass and sets them on the table then walks confidently back to me. He pulls me to him, leans down and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, and his coat falls from my shoulders. He grabs it in one hand while still kissing me and drapes it over the back of a chair. I'm lost in his kiss. He really is amazing, and I can feel wetness seeping through my panties from just his touch, his kiss. One hand is in my hair at the back of my neck, and the other is around my waist holding me tight against him. I can feel his arousal against my leg, and that turns me on even more. I move my hands down his back, feeling his muscles shift under his shirt and vest.
My heart is once again beating fast. His lips move from my mouth to my neck. His tongue caresses my neck, and he bites the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My knees buckle, but he holds me up and kisses me deeply again. He walks me backwards to the other end of the table, and before I know it, he's turned me around, my back to his front as he caresses my breasts over the satin of my dress. I moan and his lips find the back of my neck, pushing my hair out of the way. I bow my head to give him better access, and I'm once again completely lost in the sensations of his body pressed against mine. I can feel the hardness of his cock against my lower back, and I love that I'm turning him on as much as he is me.
He bends me over the table and caresses my ass. My arms are holding me up, palms flat on the table as I enjoy his touch, his lips on my neck as his body again presses against mine when he leans over me. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispers in my ear, and I shake my head. He kisses my ear and bites my earlobe. He raises my dress above my hips and I instinctively part my legs, raise my ass and lower my chest to the table in silent invitation. I hear his zipper, and my heart threatens to escape my chest. New wetness seeps out of me in anticipation. I haven't been taken, really taken by a man in a very long time, and I think he senses my hunger, my need for that type of man. He grabs the thin strap of my satin panties on either side of my hips, and with one motion, rips them from my body. A shiver of excitement runs through me at the violence and lust that one act conveys, and I go up on my toes, beckoning him to enter me.
