“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?
A part that was eager to come out to play . . . and that had found not only one playmate but two.
When I arrive in my suite, I unlace my boots, set them in the closet, then put my mask on a hook on the wall. I reach for my hair so I can unclip my barrette, but it’s not there. I pat my head, searching for it, then spin around in front of the mirror, looking.
I check the folds of my dress.
Search my mask again.
My heart speeds, hammering too fast.
That clip is from my parents.
Have I lost it?
Panic kicks in. I need to find it.
I call Carlos, asking him to search for it in the car, but he says he comes up empty. With a racing heart and worried nerves, I call the Aria and ask the front desk to look for it.
They tell me they’ll keep their eyes open. I say a prayer to the universe that someone will find it and turn it in.
Thanking them, I take a breath, then do my best to put it out of my mind for now.
But I can’t do the same with tonight.
The memory of the alcove keeps me up for another hour.
I’m wired, tuned to a new frequency, one I didn’t know I could reach.
As I slide into bed in a cotton tank and panties, the memory tangos in front of me.
Two men. Two sets of hands. Two hard bodies.
The way they touched me. The way they knew how to hand off to each other, to trade me, to treat me as theirs.
I shudder, my whole body lighting up as those last few seconds in the alcove replay.
The American’s hands. His fingers.
The other man’s lips. His words.
My skin tingles, and I slide my fingers inside my panties, where I’m wet and aroused beyond reason.
I’ve already come hard, harder than I thought possible, and yet I want more. More bliss, more touch, more bodies.
More stolen trysts in alcoves, with crowds nearby none the wiser.
That’s what I imagine as I