The party was just as how it was described, a return to the opulent days of monarchs. The guests mingled in their masquerade costumes, each one more extravagant than the next. The masks of pure gold or silver were encrusted with jewels. The costumes made of the finest silks, satins and lace, the men regal in their attire, the women queenly in theirs’. The ballroom was expansive and nearly filled to capacity. Chandeliers of the finest crystal hung from the ceiling. The floors were of a marble reserved for the kings of an age long since past.
They allowed the guests to glide along in their waltzes with minimal of effort. An orchestra of the finest classically trained musicians played on a staged in the center of the room on the left of the entrance. Up ahead, at the top of the room, were thrones chairs reserved for the host, his wife and two daughters, one of them an adopted girl of seductive color. The party was in their honor, a celebration of their maturing into women. Tonight was their night of celebration. Tables lined the other side of the wall, where windows stretched from floor to ceiling, exposing a view of the gardens and ornate fountains.
Nearly all the guests had arrived and our host, a Mr. Diego Salvador felt it was time to commence with dinner. He summoned the servants to begin informing the guests that they would be sitting for dinner soon and notified the orchestra to end the waltz and begin playing dinner music. Mr. Salvador sat in his throne with his wife to his right, one daughter to his left and the other to right of his wife. The servants then brought out a table and proceeded to place settings for the four of them. As the settings were completed and the guests were finished sitting, Mr. Salvador rose to address his guests.
Everyone devoted his or her attention to Mr. Salvador, but just as he was about to speak he stopped before the first word. Standing at the entrance to the ballroom was a newly arriving guest. He was dressed in the blackest of black silk with a cape that hung nearly to his ankles. The contrast of the black against his ghostly pale skin was eerie. His mask was of an onyx stone, trimmed with gold. It did little to hide his hauntingly, piercing eyes. He stood tall at over six feet. His hair seemed to be as black as the silk that caressed his body. His hands reflected him as a man that has not performed a laborious task in all his life, fingernails perfectly manicured, extending beyond the fingertips to a sharpened point. A servant arrived to remove his cape for him and in a motion that guests thought they missed due to a blink he had removed the cape and placed it gently in the outstretched hands of the servant. As he walked, he seemed more to glide. Every step was effortless and every movement fluid. He was guided to his table, already occupied by two elderly couples. When he arrived at his, before he sat, he bowed slightly to Mr. Salvador as if to apologize and to command him to continue.
After the stranger had taken his seat Mr. Salvador began to address the guests. “Ladies and gentleman, honored guests, we have gathered here tonight in celebration of my daughters’ twenty first birthday. Today they are women. Today they take their rightful place in society as the torchbearers of a legacy built over four hundred years ago when my ancestors first arrived in the land of Queen Isabella. Tonight we celebrate. Tonight we revel in the dawning of the new generation. I thank you all for your attendance of this most celebratory occasion. And now, let us enjoy.”
The stranger sat his table, his gaze locked on the two women he was there to celebrate. His eyes seemed to penetrate their souls. He locked onto them as if he attempting to communicate with them telepathically. Just then a servant poured him a glass of red wine. Without removing his gaze from the strikingly beautiful woman he began to caress the rim of the glass with a finger, as if he were circling the outside of a nipple of one of the women. As he circled, the daughter on the far right of Mr. Salvador, a Miss Belicia Salvador became flushed with desire. She felt a rising underneath her silk and lace. It was the rising of a nipple.
Belicia Salvador was the biological offspring of Mr. Salvador and his wife Arabela. She inherited all the physical beauty of her mother and all the mental capacities of her father. She possessed a smooth, flawless, pale skin that gave her long, sinewy body a translucent air. Her breasts, small when compared to her sister, were ripe and luscious with long protruding nipples. It was her left nipple that was betraying her tonight, rising in desire, causing her to heave in hopeless silence. She closed her eyes and clutched her dress underneath the table as she felt a finger slowly, languidly make its way around her erect, aroused nipple.
One of the guest at the table with the stranger felt it necessary to interrupt him in an attempt to be polite, if he really wanted to be polite, he would have left him alone so that he could continue his seduction from afar of Belicia Salvador. “My name is Luis, good sir. Luis Amaya.”
The stranger slowly diverted his gaze from Belicia towards the interruption. He smiled when their eyes met. “Amaya, means night rain, am I correct? My name is Andres de Santos, it is an honor to meet you good sir.” And with the completion of his sentence and smile, Andres lifted his glass of wine in a gesture of salute and fluidly sipped from the glass. When he placed the glass down he left a small drop of the intoxicating liquid on the rim of the glass. He then returned his finger to stroke along the edge, but this time his gaze moved over to Mr. Salvador’s other daughter.
Mr. Salvador’s other daughter, Miss Abeni Salvador, was adopted by the Salvadors when she mysteriously appeared in the crib next to Belicia. She was rumored to have belonged to an unwed servant of the Salvadors, but no one could prove that any of them had ever been pregnant. The Salvadors, primarily Mrs. Salvador, had decided to raise her as if she were their own. At that moment, she became their daughter and younger sister, by merely a month, of Belicia. She had grown up into a voluptuous, rubenesque beauty. Large full breasts were corseted high to give the exaggeration of cleavage. Her hair was long, like her sister’s, but it was a raven black in contrast to Belicia’s golden, blond locks. It fell down past her shoulders in soft wisps of curls. Belicia’s hair was just as long, but contained not a curve to it, instead falling straight down.
As Andres guided his finger around the rim of the glass Abeni could feel her nipple betray her the same way Belicia’s had her. It became hard, with the slight feeling of moisture from the spirit finger that traced it’s way around her ample bosom. Her breathing, too, became quick, laced with passion. Her loins were engulfed in a flame that moistened the folds of her perfectly groomed delta. She was very familiar with the feeling, as she had spent many a night exploring her body with her hands and fingers. She loved to stand in the mirror and allow her hands to roam free over her body, leaving her skin ablaze with desire. Abeni was becoming bold, her hand was making its way under her scarlet, satin and lace dress when a voice spoke to her inside of her lust filled mind, “I have come for you, “ it said.
Abeni jumped at the voice. She looked sheepishly at her mother, whom was sitting next to her, but it was a man’s voice that spoke to her. She looked passed her mother and to her father, but the voice was to soft to have traveled such a distance. Also, it didn’t appear to have come from outside of her, but from the inside. She looked around the room, frightened by the realization that someone may have entered her mind. Again, the voice came to her, softly; “I have come for you and your sister.”
Abeni looked past her parents at her sister to gauge her mood. Belicia looked Abeni at the same moment and they locked gazes as the voice spoke again, to both of them, “I have come for the both of you. You will fulfill my hunger tonight and I yours.” The sisters looked frighteningly at each other, coming to the realization that the other also heard the voice inside their heads. They didn’t know what to do. Their bodies were over taken by lust. They could no longer control the desires they had felt on many a nights in solitude. Images of a phantom figure filled their heads, walking towards them as they coward on the bed, clutching the other.
