"Eyes forward. Ignore them," I said quietly as I noticed Sophia's wide eyes look frantically at the flashes from paparazzi cameras. This was likely her first time experiencing the irritatingly nosey paparazzi, and it was obvious she was uncomfortable in the spotlight, which I could tell even from watching her at the auction. It would make this evening all the more fun as she would soon be forced to climax as discreetly as possible with many sets of eyes on her.
I led Sophia into the Art Institute as she tightly gripped the crook of my elbow. A pair of men in sharp, black tuxedoes opened the huge double doors for us and we stepped into the foyer. The Institute wasn't a particularly fancy place by itself, but it was very old with many ornate lights fixtures on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. Several paintings from the renaissance era were on display as well as a few Roman sculptures in front of the ticket booth to the museum. But the ballroom was added on later with funding from benefactors specifically to hold this event and others like it, and was truly magnificent. The camera flashes stopped as the doors closed behind us and a woman in a suit and skirt came up to us.
"Ah, Miss Prescott! Welcome back!" She greeted warmly. "It's always a pleasure to have you here. Please follow me."
The woman led us through the foyer to another set of double doors opposite the museum entrance, the clickety-click of three pairs of heels echoed loudly as we walked across the polished granite floor. These doors opened up into the grand ballroom and I heard Sophia gasp in awe. She'd probably been to the Art Institute before, but not to the ballroom. It was off limits to the general public. Everything was huge in the ballroom, making you feel like a dwarf when walking in. Enormous gold and crystal chandeliers hung from the four story high vaulted ceiling which was supported by thick, white marble columns and arches. Tall stained glass windows dominated the walls with depictions of famous artists like Van Gogh, Rembrandt, and Dali. A giant's checkerboard of black and white marble tiles served as the dance floor in the middle of the room and was sunk 2 steps down so the people eating and socializing at the tables around the outside could get a better view of the dancers. A stage was off to the right side where a jazz band played live music and speeches would be given. And a full service bar opposite the stage with a balcony that had tall, standing tables so patrons could go up and enjoy their drinks while watching the band and dancers below.
"You two will be at table 17 this evening with Mr. and Mrs. Finch, the Mesdames Bradford, Miss Osborne, Mr. Redfield and his date, and Mr. Taylor," the hostess said, showing us around the outside of the room to our table.
I recognized all but one of those names. I was friends with Chelsea Osborne, one of the few strictly platonic relationships I had with another woman. She and I were roommates in college many years. Her father was a start up investor and the one who actually loaned me the money to start my company. The Bradford ladies I knew through business contacts, and though we weren't that close, they did invite me to a threesome one time, which of course I couldn't turn down. The Finch's were regulars at these types of events, and although I knew them, it wasn't on a personal nor business level. I also recognized Mr. Redfield and knew he was one the attendees of the Virtue Auction the day before. I wondered if his date was the woman he bought, like Sophia was my date.
We were the first ones to arrive at our table, so we thanked the hostess and I decided to visit the bar first. At such an event with so many wealthy individuals, age was often overlooked when it came to alcohol consumption, so even though Sophia was still only 18, I could order drinks for her and nobody would question it, so long as she didn't get completely inebriated.
"Good evening ladies? What can I get for you?" Asked a bartender as we stepped up to the bar. Her name tag read Marga.
"I'll have a martini please, Marga, with lemon," I said casually, then placed my hand on top of Sophia's head, careful not to mess her beautifully done hair. "And let's start this one off with an amaretto sour."
"You got it," she said with a smile, getting straight to work on our drinks.
While the bartender worked, I clicked the remote in my hand, turning Sophia's vibrator on to the lowest setting. I watched her for a reaction and saw a barely noticeable flinch as her eyes widened. I gave her a sly smile and a wink as she looked over at me. Sophia took a deep breath and squeezed her thighs together, but she managed to compose herself quite well. I mouthed the words "good girl" to her and she returned a nervous smile.
A few moments later our drinks were ready and I left a $20 bill on the bar for Marga. I grabbed my martini and turned around, leaning back on the edge of the bar to take a look around the room to see who I recognized and wanted to mingle with. Only about a third of the attendees had shown up already, so there weren't many people just yet, and nobody I felt like striking up a conversation with. Many would show up fashionably late as usual, but I was always one for punctuality. I didn't want to miss anything. Hors d'oeuvres would be served shortly, but there were already a few couples dancing to the live music.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked Sophia as she sipped on her drink.
"It's good!" She said, licking her lips.
"No, I mean of the party," I clarified. "Have you ever dreamed you'd be at an event like this?"
"No, it's a bit uh... overwhelming," Sophia admitted, her voice noticeably shaky from the toy softly buzzing her clit. "It's a lot to take in and I-I'm not really sure how to act, and I don't know if I can do this w-without making a scene."
"Just relax and be yourself, nobody here is going to judge you for how you act," I assured her.
'But they will judge me for how you act,' I silently added in my thoughts. 'Luckily I've long since stopped caring what these people think of me.'
"You're here to be my arm candy, to look beautiful and sexy, and make these men jealous that they can't have you," I continued. "And you don't really have a choice. You're committed now, and we're not going home until you cum at least once whether you make a scene of it or not. Understood?"
