A pulse beats between my legs, and a rush of tingles shoots down my spine.
Taunting me.
Teasing me.
Reminding me how it felt.
Electric. Ecstatic.
“So . . . how was it? Your tryst?”
“Amazing,” I whisper, uttering the first piece of my confession, one I love admitting.
Eliza grins, an eager one that says I need more, so much more. “Good. I want to know everything. And I had a feeling you were busy. That’s why I called you Cinderella, so you’d know it was just me.”
“You are heaven-sent.” I set a hand on my heart, trying to settle it as we pass a bachelorette party wearing sashes with the saying “I’m with the bride” emblazoned across them. “I’m so glad I didn’t run into anyone, even with the mask on. I wanted to just be in the moment.”
Eliza wiggles her brow. “Was it amazing, the most amazing, or ‘Holy fuck, that was so fucking amazing’?”
Laughing, I glance around the main floor, bustling with activity, then whisper, “Did you see anything?”
She laughs, tossing her head back. “No. Not a thing. But now I’m damn curious.”
I pat the feathers of my mask, needing and wanting to remain unrecognizable. We exit the hotel, heading for my car in the portico as a reel of images flicks before me. The highlights of tonight insist on replaying, and I am bursting to share. Needing to tell her.
Once Carlos opens the back door for us then shuts it, I rip off my mask, and Eliza does the same.
Her grin is wicked, eager. She’s ready for the salacious details, and I’m ready to share them, now that we’re in the car, the partition raised. She wiggles her fingers as Carlos pulls away from the Aria. “Serve it up. I’ve been counting down the days till you had a proper banging.”
Peals of laughter fall from me. I’ve missed this. Missed the chance to dish with my girlfriend. “I’m so glad to know you were rooting for me in the boudoir.”
“Hello? I’m all about positive energy and putting it out into the universe.”
I shoot her a playful look. “So you were offering prayers and well wishes for my sex life?”
She lifts her chin proudly. “I’m thoughtful like that. I asked the goddess of Os to watch over you. Did she listen?”
With a deep, satisfied breath, I flop back against the leather seat, then sigh contentedly. “She listened, and she listened well.”
Eliza grabs my arm, practically squealing. “This is huge for you. You’ve been so nose to the grindstone since the whole incident. Been so buried in work. Tell me everything.”
My lips go all crooked and naughty. “Everything?”
I kind of want to tell all.
I want to give voice to what happened to me. So it feels more real. So it doesn’t seem like smoke, curling away in the night air as we drive away from the scene of the liaison. So it doesn’t feel like merely a naughty memory, fading at the edges already.
I don’t truly know that I’ll see them again.
I have no idea if the promise of the next party is an empty one.
“So it’s obvious there’s an everything to tell?” I say.
Arching a brow, Eliza points at my mouth. “Well, your lipstick is noticeably absent, your hair is a mess, and you have that general JBF look.”
“Just been fucked. Thanks.” But inside, I’m dancing a fox-trot. I like that I look well-pleasured. I am well-pleasured.
“Am I right, or am I right?”
I drop my voice to a whisper. “Not fucked. But . . . you did say earlier some things require two sets of hands.” I wiggle my fingers. “There were two of them.”
Her jaw falls to the floor of the limo. She pretends to pick it up. “Yes. Everything. I require every dirty detail.”
And I’m dying to share every detail, because tonight was all new. Tonight was a revelation. I discovered things about myself I never expected. “I never thought I would like that. The things they did to me. Both of them. The way they touched me.” I shake my head, not quite believing it. “I want it again.”
Eliza clears her throat dramatically, then pretends to write in a book. “Dear diary, today my best friend discovered her brand-new kink.”
My smile morphs into a huge grin as I slide a hand through my hair. “What am I going to do with myself? I should shove that dalliance out of my mind and forget about it.” I wave my other hand in front of my face, the memory singeing me with its hotness. “But it’s hard to forget. I think it was the most powerful, most intoxicating sexual experience of my life. The most exquisite touch I’ve ever felt.”
Her grin is worthy of a portrait. “Good. You should feel good again. We deserve pleasure, don’t you think?”
I shrug, not sure how to answer. Does anyone deserve anything?
Eliza keeps going though. “And I know what it’s like to have to wiggle free from a past with a jackass, one who barely knew how to find his way around the female anatomy. Now you’ve got two men who know their way around, you lucky woman. It’s like you just went double on a double-or-nothing bet.”
Perfect analogy. I draw a deep breath, one that seems to flood me with another round of endorphins. That quarter-hour will feed my imagination for a long time to come, I suspect. “I feel that way too.”
“And are you going to see them again, whoever they are?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? Will they show up in two weeks? And who are those masked men? Will I know them when I see them? Will I want them without their masks? “Yes. No. Maybe. We said we’d meet at a party at The Invitation the weekend after next.”
Eliza wiggles a brow, the party planner in her sitting up, taking notes. “Then we will be going to The Invitation. And I can’t wait.”
A spark of something flickers in Eliza’s pretty eyes. Maybe anticipation? Possibly desire? Something that tells me she has her own reasons for wanting to go.
“Is there someone you met at the party?” I ask, nudging her with my elbow. “Someone you want to see again? The man with the beard, maybe?”
She nibbles on her lower lip, then shakes her head. “He’s . . .” She takes a beat, like she’s searching for the right words. “Helping me with a project.”
I give a tilt of my head. “Uh, hello? How about telling me everything?”
“All in due time, I promise. All in due time. But right now, it’s nascent. It’s delicate.”
“I can handle delicate,” I say, pouting, stomping my foot playfully on the car floor.
“I know you can. But I need to do a little more . . . baking, if you will.” She mimes mixing a batter. “I promise I’ll tell you soon.”
“You better share what you’re cooking up.”
“I will. I promise.”
We reach her condo on the Strip and drop her off, then Carlos whisks me to The Extravagant. I say good night to him. As I walk through the lobby of the hotel I own, I feel like I’m looking at everything—from the art on the walls to the slot machines, from the blackjack tables to the jewelry box sculpture—with new eyes.
With new desires too.
As if tonight unlocked a part of me.
Perhaps a part I’d been denying for too long?