Mercedes

"That's cute." I said, for maybe the fiftieth time.

"Hm...no, that's cuter." I said again.

I pointed to the red dress currently draped over a small black chair before me. My friend Trina looked at it and frowned.

She always did this to me; she would call me over before her date, ask me to dress her, complain that she's fat, and complain about her impending date. During this time, I would get happily tipsy on the fantastic wine selection her husband kept. And yes, I did say husband. Trina was quite wealthily, and hatefully married.

Though her husband was a beautiful wealthy man, with a kind heart, he also had a penchant for other beautiful men. I really couldn't blame him; I too, was a fan of beautiful men.

She didn't mind, she enjoyed the comfort she had through his money, and she'd never really been good at staying loyal anyhow. He was happy, his family had no idea, and he had fantastic arm candy for all of his parties. Not to mention, quite unbelievably, they were very good friends.

She was tall, had flaming red hair, and a fantastic body. Too bad she had no confidence. Her lack of it annoyed me. Rather than dwell on it, I simply sipped happily on my wine.

She had put the dress on by the time I snapped out of my reverie, and was standing hands on hips in front of me.

"I look fat." She flounced down into the little black chair.

"Trina you weigh ten fucking pounds you're not fat. In fact you need a steak dinner." I rolled over onto my back, careful not to spill my wine.

She sauntered over to the closet, where I heard her rustling for shoes. "He's a doctor. Or at least, that's what everyone tells me."

This is where I get the low down on her new beau.

"Oh yeah?" I said, pretending to be interested. When in fact I was studying the fantastic architecture of the high ceiling.

"Yeah," I saw a shoe fly low over my head, "he's really sexy. Tall, dark, handsome. Apparently he does have an accent."

"How do you know he's sexy, you haven't seen him." I said.

She was very big on appearances. Come to think of it, I was too; I was just much more honest about it.

"I saw his pictures on face book."

"He has a face book..."

"Shut up! You know everyone has a face book now." Another shoe...this one pink.

There was a loud chime, from the marbled entrance downstairs, I immediately hopped up and decided to answer the door. She came at me nearly panicked.

"Where are you going!?" She shut the door, like we were conspiring.

I waved my glass of Pinot Noir at the door, "I was thinking someone should answer the door maybe, and I thought since, you have one red shoe and one black, I should be the one who did it." I felt like I was being reasonable in my logic.

She shook her head frantically, "Put my robe on!"

I stared at her, my eyebrows high. My outfit consisted of stretchy black bed-shorts, and a pink tank top, hardly competition for her red fuck-me-now dress. To humor her I put the ten sizes too tall robe on. I went for the golden door handle.

"Wait! Put a towel around your hair."

"Trina!"

"What!?"

"You are what I lovingly refer to as a 'frotch', why does MY hair need to be covered?" I had normal, white-blonde waist length hair. Nothing compared to the shimmering tresses falling from her worried head.

She shook the towel at me forcefully, obviously unwilling to bend.

"Fine." I put the white towel around my hair. Between the brown robe, the towel, and my wine, I looked like an overweight, drunken housewife who hadn't had sex in twenty years. No problems here.

I whisked out the door and floated elegantly down the stairs. Might as well have fun with it. The doorbell had yet to chime again, either he was patient, or gone. I was hoping he was patient.

I sat my wine on the small oak table by the double doors and using both hands I grandly opened them.

"How may I help you siiiir?" I asked in a drawn out accent.

She was right, he was very attractive. He had jet black hair, stood taller even than Trina's six foot one, and was wearing a very expensive suit. He was also driving a very nice, black, vintage Corvette. I know, because I was eye fucking it from the door. He cleared his throat to catch my attention.

My eyes snapped back to him. He had a cute little half smile on his face, "Is uh..Katrina ready yet?" He did that cute little look around the foyer that they all did.

I moved to the left side to allow him in. Normally she makes them wait outside but I am just not that mean. After grandly shutting the doors, I nodded my head at him, and said, "Allow me to fetch her." I snatched up my wine and swept right back up the stairs.

I managed not to die of laughter before I got into her bedroom.

Trina was staring at me with hopeful grey eyes. "Well? Is he delicious? Will I like him? Please tell me yes!"

I nodded and said, "I think you will definitely like him. He's incredibly hot, and his hair is long too."

She clapped like a child, "Really!? How long?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Uhm...like...shoulders?" I said.

"Oh my!" She fanned herself. She picked at my robe.

"What did he say to you?" She asked.

I shrugged and grinned, "Well normally people don't talk to the maid."

"You are ridiculous you know that? Stop making people think you're my housemaid, they look at me weird when we're out to eat together!"

I sighed and said loftily, "But the lack of amusement simply kills me."

She snickered and promptly left for her date. After removing my cumbersome props, I walked out onto her balcony and watched them leave before I went downstairs to the study. With Trina out all the time, and her husband away all the rest of the time, I got to stay and play at the house more often than not. Tonight I was going to go finish some writing in the fantastic room they called a 'study'. Todd didn't like to use it, he felt like it was alarming and drab. I thought it was lovely. Trina only built it because it fit the 'mood' of the place.

It was literally drawn from a classic English romance novel, complete with large fireplace and walls of books. The only difference was that there was a state-of-the-art computer system seated on the polished mahogany desk. That was where, more often than not, I wrote the books and stories that paid for me to have all the time in the world to sip on Pinot Noir in my friend's homes.

I sat in the plush leather seat and booted the computer up. But not before I refilled my wine from the convenient bottle I kept beside the desk. Believe it or not, I was not a lush. The computer started up and I immediately launched myself into my writing. I can do that. I can manipulate myself into feeling like writing. Which was good. Because it happened to be my livelihood.

I was in the middle of typing when a small chat window appeared in front of the page. My eyes unfocused and I blinked. It had literally been three hours since I'd started. Sometimes it was not unusual to be writing and have no idea what time it is. I focused my eyes on the chat bubble. Who in the hell would be up this late.

I dimly wondered if Trina ever got home.

The chat window displayed one word, Hey.

I typed back, Hey, and went back to writing, a few pages later I saw the window was blinking and reopened it.

It read, 'what are you up to tonight?' I ignored it.

After fifteen minutes of blinking I finally reopened it, 'stop ignoring me silly girl.'

I got vaguely confused, knowing for certain that I didn't ever chat on this computer and that it was always Todd's favorite past time. 'Todd's not here right now.' I responded, this time I sipped my wine and waited.

Idly I thought, if Todd wants to be called 'girl' that's his business.

Inevitably, they responded. 'haha I know, he's off in Italy.'

I scowled at the computer. So they knew it was me. Rather than play around I skipped the pleasantries. 'Who are you, and how do you know?'

'You've met me before :( '

I ignored the sad face.

'Refresh my memory.'

'But that would ruin all my fun :)'

I closed out the window, and continued my writing. But it was stilted and I couldn't concentrate. Writing romance novels required concentration if one was to keep it from being cheesy and unreadable. My mind kept drifting to my internet mystery friend. I didn't know who had been sending me messages but I really wanted to. I was naturally an unfortunately curious person. The writing saved, I waited a few moments, and another window popped up.

'What are you writing about?'

'None of your business.' I replied. My fingers angry on the keyboard. I had no idea how they knew I was writing.

'Well I was only curious. I have read most of your books.'

'Thanks. But you'll find out what it's about when you read this one.'

'Hmm. I assume it's another romance novel.'

'Couldn't say.' I sent back.

'Do you ever feel a little...warm, you write those steamy sex scenes?'

I didn't reply back to that. I'd had enough, I was certain at that point that it was just another man acting like a fool and really just trying to fuck me. I'd respect them a lot more if they just came out with it in the beginning. I heard the computer chime with another message. I looked up from my wine to read it and my eyebrows rose.

'Have you ever considered yourself in one of those roles? You know, as the main character of your novel?'

'I write from first person, of course I do. But it's not the same writing it as it is for the reader.' I said, not a little bit pissy.

'So imagine you're at home, in you fine English manor, and a masked stranger wanders from the ball that your family and friends have thrown...imagine you're hiding in the study because you didn't want to be at the party in the first place. What would you do?'

I didn't answer for two reasons.

The first being that I already knew this person knew the answer to that. Because, my second reason, is that I was writing that scene into my book when they interrupted me. I had just passed the masquerade scene. I was more than a little upset and shut the computer down immediately. I hurried out of the room and into my little guest bedroom. I put my wine down, having suddenly lost the taste for it, and cuddled into my satin bed sheets and shook a little bit. It takes a lot to startle me, I may be a small woman, but I have the attitude of a big man. I was shaken, more by the fact that they knew what I was writing than anything else. I'd been hit on before, that never bothered me. I dozed off to sleep with a frown on my brow and clutching my pillows tight.

Trina woke me then next morning, by shrieking in my ear. "Mercedes! Get up!"

I shot up in bed thinking there was a fire. There wasn't, only a frustrated red-head in a pair of expensive black slacks and a small wispy white thing she called a blouse.

"What!?" I snapped, and cradled my head in my hands.

She fell back onto the bed beside me. "I need to tell you about my date."

"Really? Before I even have coffee? Really?" I asked forlornly.

"Yes, I'll follow you to the kitchen for your stupid coffee."

Coffee was the nectar of life, and I had strong feelings on that. She stalked me into the kitchen, her heels clacking along the way. I hated her feet at that moment. But the second the Keurig released coffee into my blue mug, and the coffee hit my taste buds, I was a little bit happier inside.

"Well we started off in that horribly old car..."

"That was a classic Corvette in mint condition Trina."

She rolled her eyes, "Like I said, old. And we didn't really talk much...I mean...he was a bore. I made him bring me home almost immediately. I didn't stay at his place." She pouted.

I about dropped my coffee. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head woefully. "Anyway, I'm planning a party and I invited him. So hopefully it was the first date awkwardness and we'll...uhm...get over it." She grinned the smile of predators.

I almost felt bad for him.

"Cool, what kind of party?"

She did the jumpy clap thing women are fond of, "A costume party! Think about it! My house is the best house for it!"

I spit my coffee out.

"Really?" I asked lightly before mopping it up casually.

She was laughing at me as she walked away, "Yes really! And you're gonna help me!"

* * *

I hated parties. It had taken four weeks to put this thing together, four weeks. Of not sleeping, eating, invitations, caterers, and decorators. I swear she spent more money on that party than I'd ever thought of doing so in my life.

On the bright side, I'd yet to get another message from my unknown person since that eventful night. I was glad, I didn't think I'd have been able to handle it. It had taken us nearly a week to get organized enough to have time to pick out our costumes. Trina had decided upon Elizabeth I, and I went with her lady in waiting. I didn't feel like taking the time to care, and Trina likes it when I appear less magnificent than she. We both agreed it was for the best.

I finally got to relax the week before. We'd taken care of everything, and so far everyone she'd invited was attending. I was so happy to be able to sit in front of the computer and write without worrying about what it was I had to do the next day. Of course that had to be the time my secret chat partner appeared again.

'Hello' was all I got as an introduction. I leapt on it this time.

'Hi Todd.' I said, since he was the only one who could've known the things they did.

'Haha, not Todd, but a good guess.'

'Oh really? I think you are Todd, but you're trying to scare me.'

'No not at all. Quite the reverse, I'd prefer you weren't frightened away. Besides, you'll see me at the masquerade  '

My wheels started turning. I couldn't think of who the hell this could be. It was ridiculous. 'It's a costume party.' I typed back, 'And who invited you?'

'Why, I believe you did.'

I had personally sent the invitations out. I frowned, it was a challenge I couldn't resist.

'Oh really? Well see you then.' I shut the pc down. It was game on. No one had ever gotten the best of me, and no one ever would.

I would surprise them when they arrived.

The day of the party came too soon. I wasn't prepared, granted I had everything set up, and all the people who were invited were coming. Trina was dressed and ready to go. I was dressing when the first few guests arrived. Trina clapped her hands and swept downstairs in a barrage of red satin with her mask. I was still lacing my satin blue corset. My mask was white with pink and blue ribbons, I had chosen it because it matched my very expensive dress. The dress was made of blue satin and fit me like a glove, accentuating my breasts and the creaminess of my skin. The white-blonde of my hair. The skirt swept out behind me in a pool of aqua and pink flowers. I was actually excited as I did my hair up in pins and curls.

I'd nearly forgotten about my strange pursuer when the time came for me to descend the stairs. I however, did recall, when I noticed the hundreds of people dancing about in a multitude of costumes and masks. I was scared, I think, to descend into the unknown. But descend I did, my mask securely before my face.

Only a few hours of constant contact with people I suspected of being my chat villain and I'd had enough. I fought through the crowd, past a frowning Trina, who stood next to a man that had to be her date from the other night. I finally made it into my study. Well...Todd's study, but since I used it most, I thought maybe it was mine by default. I stood before the fireplace, the dancing flames calming my disquiet. My dress rustled with my breath and I dropped the mask on the floor. I couldn't do it.

There was no finding this person. I didn't know if it was a man, or a woman. I didn't know if they were actually here or not. For all I knew I had hallucinated the whole thing while drunk on my wine. My hands went to the mantle and dug into the marble. I needed to get a grip.

I was finally settling down until a hand touched my side. I froze, mid-jump. I looked down at the hand, thinking it may be Trina, but it was a large, blunt fingered hand. The hand of a man. My breath quickened in fear...and curiosity.

The hand simply rested on the curve of my hip, not moving. I saw a sleeve of black velvet resting above the wrist and I was afraid to follow it with my eyes. I did so anyway, and found my eyes traveling a long arm up to a set of wide shoulders and a broad chest. The jaw line beneath his mask was unmistakably masculine in nature. The mouth that was framed was fantastically beautiful and thoroughly kissable. Though his face was covered in a simple white mask, reminiscent of the phantom of the opera, I recognized it and the little half smile I'd seen before. I froze a little, my hands still on the mantle, and stared at him. My face not masked at all but bare and full of shock.

I recognized him, though his hair was pulled back in a queue, it was still a black that was hard to forget. I stuttered, his hand still on my hip, his chest a simple breath away. "I know you!"

He grinned the half smile that he'd had when I'd opened the door for him weeks ago. Though it was quite different when directed at me. "That you do."

His English accent was familiar as well; I planted my hands on his chest to push him away. "You're Trina's date!" I gasped.

"Well it's not Trina that I've been talking to late at night is it?"

His hand began creeping to the small of my back and pulling me closer, I bent backwards a little to look into his masked face. "No. You're my internet harasser!"

He chuckled and resisted my persistent withdrawal and put another hand at the top of my arm. "Yes. I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out yet."

I started feeling chills creep up my back, and they weren't bad chills. But I knew Trina would be upset if I closed in on her territory, so I pushed away again, this time he let me go. I paced toward the bookshelf.

"I can't, you have to go, Trina is a jealous red-head and I don't even know your name." I made a slashing movement with my hand and shook my head, which meant I was serious.

Apparently, he didn't care, because he stalked me around the desk like a hunter. "I don't care what Trina thinks, you're more to my tastes. Your writing is amazing, your mind thrills me, and even in a bathrobe and towel I find you beautiful. Now? You look like you've stepped from my fantasies. And your own, if your writing is any indication." He trailed his hand along the desk that I'd sat in front of for the last however many years.

I shifted nervously, the satin rustling with my movements.

He slowly closed in on me, giving me plenty of time to retreat but I didn't want to. At the same time, I did. I'd caught myself in my own trap. I still didn't know his name; I skittered away at the last minute, and was rewarded with a wolfish smile.

"Then what's your name? I know it's not English man with a beautiful car."

He chuckled, "So you like my car?" He was still walking toward me; I was still backing toward the fireplace.

"Yes. I love a pretty car."

"Adam."

"What?" I was scattered, I was confused, and I was vaguely turned on.

"My name?"

"Oh."

He caught me by the upper arms, and I let him, as his mouth descended toward mine, I shivered and leaned toward him. He kissed me hungrily, like a starving man. I returned it just as eagerly. His left hand skimmed up my arm and closed lightly around my neck, like a promise. I sighed into his mouth and he tightened his grip.

I felt something hit the backs of my thighs and realized he had backed me up against the desk. Before I could say anything though, he grabbed me and flipped me around, I was soon eye to eye with the wood grain, and I gasped because I was unprepared in every way for what I thought was coming.

Instead I felt his fingers nimbly unlacing my corset. Soon it was gone, and his large hands cupped my breasts. I arched back into him and nearly purred like a cat, my ass rubbed roughly against his erection, which was almost intimidating in its size. I liked it, so I rubbed again.