Mass

Thank you to findingmyvoice for her thoughtful feedback and assistance.

"Hey Cynthia, is Jason home yet?"

"No, he's not. Come on in."

I tossed myself down on the couch and stretched out. Cynthia was wearing jean shorts that left her long legs completely uncovered. The white tank top accentuated her slimness and allowed a tantalizing hint of cleavage. I smiled and had to keep myself from humming as I watched her move around the house. The scenery at Jason's place was rarely disappointing. I had to tug the crotch of my jeans to a more comfortable position after she bent over to pick something up. Her ass was just fantastic. It stood out nicely without being overly large.

Cynthia emerged from the kitchen with a class of wine in one hand and a bottle of ginger ale in the other. She tossed the bottle at me as she sat on the opposing couch.

"Scott, We need to talk," she said.

"OK, Cynthia," I said as I slowly opened the bottle. I didn't want to get sprayed.

"Don't be so familiar. Call me Mrs. Gray. You need to stop coming over just to see me."

"Huh?" I asked as air hissed out from underneath the cap.

Cynthia took a sip of wine. "We both know Jason won't be home for at least half an hour." She leaned forward and I had to work to keep my eyes from slipping below her face.

"I don't like being ogled in my own home. Especially by a boy."

"I'll be nineteen in eleven months."

She rolled her eyes. "In the future, if you show up when Jason's not around, I'm not going to let you in."

My heart was pounding and I felt my face heat up. "Jason is my best friend. You're going to drive us apart because you think I look at you too much?"

"Stop whining Scott."

Anger and embarrassment swirled around in my stomach. I resented her statement about me not being a man, even though I knew it was true.

"I understand," I said as grabbed my bag and headed to the door. My first instinct was to run but I didn't want to display that level of distress. I kept my head down and walked as fast as I could without looking like I was running away. Once Jason's house was out of view, I slowed down and replayed the conversation in my mind. A rumble of thunder snapped me back to reality. Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead. Halfway home the rain started. In no time I was soaked to the bone. It was a fitting addition to my day.

My wet shirt made a slapping sound as it hit the floor. I flopped onto my bed, the box spring protested loudly. The long walk and downpour had cooled my frustration some. A touch of embarrassment still gnawed at me. Showing my face at Jason's was going to be painfully awkward for the foreseeable future.

Watching Cynthia in her short shorts and small summer dresses had always been more rewarding than looking at pictures of women online simply because she was real. Plus, she always smelled fantastic and watching her long, glossy hair swing about as she moved was almost hypnotizing. The afternoon stretched slowly into evening as my agitation prevented me from losing myself in any activity.

I was still a bit unsettled the next day. Jim flagged me down as I entered work.

"Hey, the boss wants to talk to you," he said

My heart sank. Apparently, it was going to be one of those weeks. I knocked on my boss' open door. Despite being on the phone, he gestured for me to enter.

I slipped into a free chair, as quietly as possible, and busied myself by looking at the photos of landscapes decorating the walls. Minutes passed as my boss continued to talk. From time to time he waved a hand or slapped his desk. I did my best not to listen the content of the conversation. Nervousness overwhelmed me. The click of the handset setting down pulled my attention to the desk. Grant grabbed a folder from a tray, pulled it in front of him, and flipped it open.

"Is the date of birth in your file correct?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. What's it say?"

He rattled off the date.

"Yeah, that's correct."

"Ah, so you're eighteen."

I was a little thrown off by the subject of the conversation. "Is there a problem?"

"Nah, I was thinking about asking you to pick up a package for a client but it involves booze, so that would be unwise. I'll have to ask one of the other guys."

"Ah, OK," I said and leaned back in the chair as the nervousness evaporated.

"Scott, you've been doing good work here and you really helped me out with Mr. Takeda."

I shrugged. "It wasn't that big a deal really. I just entertained his daughter for a while."

Grant smiled and gave a good-natured laugh. "Well, it was a big deal. He asks about you every time we talk. Hell, he's joked about hiring you away from me."

It was my turn to smile. "It turned out to be fun. She's a nice kid. I still exchange postcards with her."

"Well, you helped me and the company out in a big way, so I wanted to do something to return the favor," he said as he slid a manila envelope across his desk.

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. It held my attention so closely I was surprised when Grant draped a garment bag over the edge of the desk. I looked at him questioningly.

"It's part of the gift"

I opened my mouth but Grant waved a hand.

"Just shut up and let me do something nice for you. Now, there are instructions in there," he said as he pointed at the envelope, "You need to follow them or there will trouble for the both of us."

My head jerked back at the statement. His last sentence had sounded ominous and I wasn't at all a fan of that.

"I can trust you, can't I Scott?"

"Of course, Sir."

In the comfort of my room, I bent the tines upward and opened the envelope. Inside was a very ornate invitation written in calligraphy on what felt like expensive paper. I thought those kinds of things only existed in movies. Accompanying the invitation were two pages held together by a metal clip in the upper left corner. My eyes roamed over the list of instructions and guidelines. I had hoped they would shed some light on my boss' gift, instead my confusion only grew as I read them.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. What on earth had Grant gotten me into? I unzipped the garment bag. Inside, was a grey suit, dress shirt, and tie. I laid the suit out on my bed and ran my fingers over the material. I was soft, smooth, and gave me the impression it was expensive. I dug around in my closet to find shoes and a matching belt. As I set the scuffed up pair next to the suit it became apparent I would need to go shopping.

Days ticked by quickly. The sting of my confrontation with Cynthia had faded some. Jason and I met once at a neutral location, so I could avoid running into her. My mother was paranoid about visitors, so that prevented me from having him over.

After a week, my curiosity finally got the best of me. I asked Grant what the invitation was for. He smiled, shook his head, and walked away. I racked my brain but couldn't figure a way to coax the information from him. Two days of fruitless scheming made me resign myself to the inevitable. With a red marker I circled and the date on my calendar and waited.

My chest felt tight and it took me three attempts to properly execute a full Windsor knot. I took the time to put a proper part in my hair instead of wearing it swept up in the center. If my clothes were going to be somewhat adult, then I figured my hair should be as well. The suit called for sophistication, so I dug around in my drawers until I found the watch my grandmother had given me. It was expensive so I only wore it on special occasions. My mother would have never let me hear the end of it if I lost or damaged the thing. I wetted a finger with cologne and ran it behind my ears. When I looked in my bathroom mirror, I had to blink a couple times. The image presented in no way reflected the real me. Oddly enough, I kind of liked it.

I craned my neck to look out the windshield as I parked my car. The building's exterior was plain. Based on the fancy invitation I had half expected a shimmering structure of glass and steel with swans swimming around in fountains. Lighting was conspicuously absent in the parking lot area. The large man standing impassively next to the door lifted his sunglasses to scrutinize my invitation. He grunted his acceptance and opened the door.

A pretty woman in a close fitting Chinese-style dress intercepted me shortly after I entered. She ushered me down a narrow hallway and into a side room. Several masks were held up in front of my face.

"You're a young one," she said.

Not knowing how to respond I simply shrugged. She alternated between holding up two masks in front of my face. After several turns of evaluation, she handed one to me.

"This one suits your face better. I'll tie it for you."

I turned it over in my hand. It wasn't the flimsy plastic fare I was used to. The mask felt solid and kind of heavy. It closely matched the color of my suit. Two old fashioned six-point diamonds in silver decorated the side of the mask. Black lines rimmed the eye holes. I held it against my face as the woman gathered the silk ties on each side and knotted them together behind my head. She held up a small hand mirror. The mask covered my face from mid forehead to the top or my upper lip.

"Thank you," I said.

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "You have no idea what you're in for, do you?"

I frowned in confusion. She turned me by the shoulders and slapped my backside.

"Go get'em."

The narrow hallway led to an open area, where men and women, who were also wearing masks, idly chatted, nibbled on hors d'oeuvres, and nursed drinks. I made my way to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. The bartender chuckled at my order. My chest was still tight and my stomach was unsettled. The last thing I wanted to do was get buzzed and make a stupid mistake. Grant had always been fair to me, so I didn't want to let him down.

As I nibbled on crackers and cheese with soft jazz lilting in the background the room gradually filled with people. The men were impeccably dressed in suites or tuxedoes while the women wore several different styles of dresses. Each woman was stunning. I did my best not to stare. A woman in a red dress repeatedly drew my attention. A slit up the side of her dress exposed her long legs. She appeared to glide around the room, comfortable with her beauty, almost celebrating it.

As my eyes roamed across the room, I accidently made eye contact with a short woman in a slinky black dress. She smiled, plucked a glass of wine from the bar, and made her way over to me. Her mask was a sea foam green and curved downwards over cheeks.

"You're new?" she asked.

I nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

She smiled. The shape of her mask emphasized her full lips. They were a touch pouty without being overbearing.

"No. I'm a regular. Even with the masks you get to know heights and builds." Her lips curled at the edges. "And I would have remembered that cute butt of yours."

At a loss for words, I took a sip from my glass.

"Would you like some advice?"

I nodded. "Yes, please."

Her smile became toothy. "I like you. Follow the rules, they keep us all safe, and allow this to happen. Relax, enjoy yourself, and savor it like tonight is your last on Earth."

She drained her glass, patted me on the cheek, and moved away. I watched her hips sway as she departed. Her words ignited my curiosity. What had Grant gotten me into? I was leaning against the wall near the far corner of the room when a man settled in against the wall next to me. He was broad shouldered with a touch of grey along his temples and wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were visible through the holes of his mask.

"The scenery is impressive isn't it?" he asked.

I nodded. "It's hard not to stare. I think I could stand here and watch for the rest of my life and be content."

The man laughed and patted me on the shoulder. He held his glass up to his lips and appeared to blink in confusion when he found it empty. "If you'll excuse me I'd like another drink before the fun begins," he said as he walked towards the bar.

A short time later, a slim man in a tuxedo appeared and approached the center of the room. His mask was black with gold accents and resembled a jackal. He rang a small brass bell with his left hand. A woman with grey feathers around the edge of her mask and a long, curved bill set two bowls on a table in front of him. One was lacquered blue with silver scrollwork around the middle and form into a line. The other was red with two thin bands of grey near the top and bottom

"Ladies and Gentlemen the time has come. Gentlemen if you would? Please form up," the jackal-faced man said.

The men in the room drew envelopes from the blue bowl. I was not sure what was going on, so I followed suit. After the last man drew his envelope, the men on each side of me opened theirs and retrieved the item inside. I opened mine and found a grey key-card. A static sticker with the number thirty-eight, in black blocky numbers was stuck to it. I mimicked the other men and held my card up in front of me.

The women walked past one at a time. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry. A woman in a grey silk dress with roses on the cheeks of her mask stopped in front of me, ran her fingers through my hair, and rested them at the side of my neck. I swear she was feeling my pulse. The gesture struck me as oddly seductive. Her eyes twinkled at me before she moved on. Several women fiddled with my tie and ran their hands over my chest. A couple of women, including the short one in the black dress, stepped in close and cupped my backside. I was feeling a little light-headed by the time the last woman, wearing a dark blue dress with matching flowers on her mask, stopped in front of me, smoothed my lapels and fingered the buttons on my shirt before sliding a hand down to grab my crotch. I was so surprised I almost jumped out of my skin.

The man wearing the jackal mask rang the bell again. "Ladies, if you would be so kind."

The women lined up and drew small, red envelopes from the similarly colored bowl. Once the container was empty, the man behind the jackal mask rang his bell once more. Each woman tore open her envelope and withdrew a tile. My nervousness grew. I shifted my weight from foot to foot to prevent myself from locking my knees and passing out by accident. One by one, the women began to take positions standing opposite of a man. The woman in the black dress stepped in front of me.

"Ah, too bad," she said as she held up a tile with the number forty on it and patted my cheek. "Maybe next time."

Bit by bit the women paired off. I was beginning to think my number had been excluded when the woman in the grey dress stood in front of me and held up a tile with thirty-eight printed on it.

"Looks like you're mine," she said.

It felt like a bolt of electricity raced through me. I knew that voice. It was Cynthia Grey's. She grabbed my tie just below the knot and pulled me into motion. We left the others behind and stepped into a hallway lined with doors. I was slowly overcoming the initial shock but still felt confused and very lost. I watched Cynthia's hips swing side to side in the tight dress, as she walked. When she stopped, I almost ran into her. She plucked my key card from my hand and slipped it into the door's lock. When the light flashed green, she pushed the handle down, and pulled me inside.

It was a modestly appointed room dominated by a large bed. The carpet and artwork on the plain walls appeared to be of higher quality than an average hotel. Absent were the usual trappings of a television, window to the outside, or alarm clock. In fact, there was nothing in the room to indicate the time. A slight sent of potpourri hung in the air. My mind raced. The combination of my cologne, hair, and mask might prevent Cynthia from recognizing me, but the moment I spoke I she would know.

The large bed hinted at the purpose of the room and there was no way in hell I was going to jeopardize that possibility. Cynthia kept a firm grip on my tie, stepped in close, and kissed me. Her full lips were soft as they pressed against mine. The kiss, the feel of her body against mine, and the scent of her perfume set my heart racing. It was a little awkward with the masks but not enough to detract from the experience. When the kiss finally broke, I had lost all concept of time. My frantic, confused mind latched onto one concept: this was a fantasy come true and there was no way in hell I was going to miss out. I also found it a little creepy that my boss was involved in an anonymous sex club.

She pushed away and moved further into the room. I leaned against the wall and made a spinning gesture with my finger. Cynthia gave a playful smile, used both her hands to hold her hair up, and made a slow turn. The soft light from the lamps emphasized her curves. My mouth felt dry and my heart hammered in my chest. In front of me was a woman with years of experience beyond my current level of understanding. I was totally out of my depth. Before I could stop myself, I gave a low, appreciative whistle.

"I'm glad you approve," she said. There was a tone of pride in her voice.

A small tablet sat on a nearby end table. I scooped it up and after a few taps on the screen music filled the room. It took a few tries until I found something with the desired tempo. I pulled a chair directly in front of Cynthia and sat down.

A corner of her mouth curled upwards. "Oh, we're going to do this are we?"

Her body swayed to the music. Each movement was graceful and fluid. If I'd been asked to dance for a woman's enjoyment I had no doubt my performance would have been stilted and awkward. Her hips rocked and swung side to side. The undulating movements ran the length of her body as she extended her arms above her head.

After the first several minutes, she closed her eyes. Her movements became more exaggerated. I was sure she had lost herself in a fantasy of her own. Her hair tossed back and forth, as she moved her head. She turned to the side, offering an enticing profile, and then pivoted on a foot to place her back to me.

The affect of her movements was almost hypnotic. A different part of her body held my attention for moments at a time. Even the movement of her arms and hands was captivating. A hand craned behind her shoulders, found the zipper for the dress, and tugged downwards. She looked at me over her shoulder and smiled playfully. I swallowed. It felt as if my blood was on fire. With enticing slowness, the grey silk slipped free from each shoulder.

Cynthia turned to the side as the dress moved lower. A lacy bra cup, the same color as the dress, came into view. Too quickly for my taste, she turned her back to me. I gave a growl of frustration and slapped the armrest of the chair.

She pushed her bottom lip forward in a mock pout. "Men are so impatient."

Cynthia turned to face me, a knowing smile on her lips. The dress moved lower resting on her hips. I found myself unsure where to look as her body moved in concert with the music. Focusing on her breasts while she was looking at me, felt oddly rude. I decided to keep my eyes on hers. Even though I was sure it was a goofy one, I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

Despite the playful mood of the room, the eye contact seemed to create a connection between the two of us. Her smile gained a touch of warmth and her movements became more enthusiastic. Cynthia turned, slipped her thumbs into her dress and pushed it down over his hips. Her panties were simply bits of string that hugged her hips and disappeared between the cheeks of her ass.

I reached out and touched her. My fingers traced over the two dimples at her lower back. Her skin was warm and firm against the palm of my hand. Cynthia slapped my hand out of the way, planted herself on my lap, arched back against me, and moaned breathily into my ear. Her hips wagged back and forth grinding against me. She pushed herself out of the chair, caught the pool of grey silk on the toe of her shoe, and kicked it towards me. I snagged the dress out of the air.