A Game of Secrets
Autore
Zuri Day
Letto da
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Capitoli
21
One
“Lone Ranger, or Zorro?”
Jake Eddington’s body, clad in all black, physically responded to the intoxicating scent and sultry sound of a woman’s voice so close that her damp breath tickled his earlobe. Jake loved the sound of women’s voices. He loved their warm, damp spaces too. He was a connoisseur of all things female, voices in particular. That, along with natural butts and breasts and pretty eyes, like the pair that locked on him as he turned, immediately snaring him in their clutches. Brown with flecks of gold, they matched the woman’s tiger costume, a tight mini and matching thigh-high boots that showed off delicate curves and came complete with ears, tail and a long, golden mane.
And a mask, of course.
“What do you think?” While asking the question, he tried to identify what little of the face he could see behind a mask that showed little more than lips and eyes. He’d grown up in nearby Point du Sable, the uberupscale community where many of the partygoers lived or had also grown up, and had been a regular on Chicago’s elite party scene. In other words, he knew almost everybody. But what he could see of this femme fatale didn’t look familiar at all.
Jake immediately made himself a promise to rectify that.
The woman tossed her curls to one side, her expression thoughtful. “Definitely Zorro,” she concluded. “You don’t strike me as the type of guy to spend much time alone.”
A couple steps was all it took for Jake to invade the tigress’s personal space. He took full advantage.
“And you are?”
He was close enough to catch another whiff of her perfume, a spicy, floral confection that beckoned him closer still. Another step placed his mouth close to her ear.
“Besides, of course, the most gorgeous feline I’ve ever encountered.”
Her response as she leaned in and squeezed his forearm? A prolonged purrrrr.
Jake’s mouth split into a smile. At the same time, his manhood jumped. He didn’t recognize the voice or what he could see of the face. But so far, he liked her. A lot.
He repeated his attempt for personal info. “What’s your name?”
“It’s a masquerade party, so why would you ask?”
“Because it might be considered inappropriate to place a tantalizing kiss on the lips of a stranger.”
“It might also be deemed wrong for me to slap an anonymous face, but that’s what such an intrusion would cost you.”
Spunky. I like that! He also decided those delicious-looking kissers were worth a punch. He thought it best not to tell her that.
Jake placed two big strong hands over his heart in mock wounded pride. “Ah, come on now. One of the reasons we wear masks at these things is for the freedom to give in to our...carnal desires. If you’d attended these before, you’d know that, so it must be your first time.”
It was a clear attempt to find out more about her. She didn’t take the bait. For Jake, that made her even more intriguing. He wouldn’t exactly call himself promiscuous, but when not in a committed relationship, like now, he made the most of opportunities that presented themselves. In years past, these annual Halloween parties had gotten pretty wild. The later the hour and the more the alcohol flowed, it wasn’t unusual to see partygoers in various states of undress, performing get-to-knows right on the dance floor. More than once, he’d opened one of the ten bedroom doors the mansion boasted to find it occupied. The only reason it hadn’t happened to him was because of the lesson he’d learned—lock the door. Recent events had somewhat tempered the formerly carefree social scene, but he’d attended enough of his pro athlete clients’ private parties to know that grown folk still liked to do what grown folk liked to do. Jake was cautious but he wasn’t celibate. He wasn’t stupid either. Less than ten minutes or ten feet into the party and he knew he was conversing with one of the most beautiful women in the house.
“Since your name is off-limits, what can I know about you?” His eyes swept over her costume, noting breasts that looked natural, a flat stomach and small waist. “That outfit alone tells me you’re dangerous. Or at the very least up for adventure.”
“Maybe.”
“How can maybe become definitely? A couple turns on the dance floor? Sharing a plate of delicious hors d’oeuvres? There’s an awesome game room on the third floor. What do you like to play?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
She was right. Jake was asking a lot of questions. Not his normal behavior at all. In Jake’s rarefied world it wasn’t uncommon for women to do the chasing. Then again, it wasn’t every day he chatted with a beautiful tigress. Jake decided to cut himself some slack and focus on the tender morsel in front of him, the one that if he played his cards right he might get to nibble on before the night was over.
“I get the feeling this might be your first HalloMask party. I’d be more than happy to show you around.”
“Thanks, but I’m a big girl who can take care of herself.”
“Then I’ll dispense with the pleasantries of how beautiful you are and how I’ve waited all my life for someone like you to walk into it and go straight to the chase. I’d like nothing more than to peel that costume off of you stripe by stripe and see if the caramel on the inside tastes as sweet as it looks on the outside.”
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?”
Her expression was neutral, showing neither desire nor disdain. Yet Jake swore the temperature rose ten degrees. “It’s exactly like that.”
A second passed. Two. Five.
“Take it easy, Zorro.” The woman’s mouth curved into a gorgeous smile, revealing sparkling white teeth.
Who was this woman? After a steady diet of drama queens, gold diggers and debutantes, her devil-may-care attitude was as refreshing as rain. Definitely not from the Windy City. Local women didn’t emit that type of breeze. Jake wasn’t looking for commitment, or even a constant. He was, however, open to a one-night stand, the entire weekend if the lovemaking was good enough. Especially since after this weekend his freedom would be limited, thanks to one of his friends and potential future business partner, Lincoln Trotter. Lincoln, who along with making moves to become one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs in DC was also working as a political consultant for next year’s election, had asked Jake to serve as the unofficial local escort for his fiancée, Sasha McDowell. The socialite daughter of the powerfully influential, Washington, DC–based McDowell family, Sasha was coming to Chicago to work with her godmother on a holiday event. Lincoln had entrusted his friend and possible business partner to keep sure-to-come-sniffing Chicagoan alpha wolves at bay. It was a tall order and not the type of responsibility he’d normally shoulder, but Jake had reluctantly agreed. If this was going to be his last totally free weekend until the New Year, a nice, casual sex romp would be the perfect way to spend it. But that was it. Nothing more. No attachments. No strings. Casual dating was his modus operandi. His best friend and older siblings had all settled into married life. But a trip to the altar wasn’t in his near future. Jake was sure about that.
The tigress turned to leave. Jake didn’t want her to go. Just then, a hit R & B song began to play.
“How about a dance?”
“Maybe later,” she threw over her shoulder.
Her graceful retreat gave him an unobstructed view of her juicy booty, an anatomy strong point. Her tail swished slowly back and forth. He stood mesmerized, almost hypnotized, as if a therapist had waved a wand before his eyes and begun a countdown from ten to one. He’d been hungry upon arrival and had planned to head straight for the always bountiful buffet. But a certain feline had awakened a different kind of appetite, one he was determined to assuage.
“She’s fine, isn’t she?”
Jake turned to find Claude, a former PDS resident and high school classmate, wearing a Rick James styled wig, dark sunglasses and outlandish rocker garb.
“Damn right. Who is it?”
“That’s what almost every man in here has been trying to figure out. So far, no one can place her.”
“It’s rare to see a stranger here,” Jake said, continuing to look in the direction she’d gone even though she’d become lost in the crowd. “Especially tonight.”
Claude nodded, knowing Jake spoke the truth. It was one of the reasons the partygoers felt comfortable letting their hair down, getting wild and crazy and for at least twenty-four hours, casting good home training and social mores to the wind. Those attending felt safe, knew their reputations were protected. Aside from the occasional pro athlete, model or A-list celebrity, outsiders weren’t normally allowed at the masquerade party. Most of the attendees had known each other since childhood. Trying to keep one’s identity from those who knew it best, while sometimes sharing in casual intimacies, was always part of the fun. The attendees, rarely numbering more than a hundred fifty or so, were wealthy, well educated and socially connected, and knew that what happened at the mansion would never be known outside their tight-knit circle. Still, because of the stringent rules regarding who got invited, the men knew she was somebody who knew somebody.
“I see you finally got with protocol.” Claude nodded toward Jake’s mask.
“A little bit.”
Jake adjusted the slightly uncomfortable contraption, one of the reasons that in the past couple years the party had happened, he never bothered putting one on. When arriving at these parties in the past, it was usually straight from work. Tonight, he’d had a couple hours to actually unwind before heading over. His clothing was still business casual sans suit coat, but the simple addition of a black mask had changed how he moved around the room. It had definitely increased his boldness when speaking to the tiger, leading him to believe that maybe the masks were not that bad after all.
“Being mysterious does add to the fun, I guess, though most of us can still guess each other’s identities.” He looked in the direction of where the temptress had gone. “Except for a certain feline. She’s still a stranger.”
“If I have my way, she won’t be a stranger for long.”
Claude’s comment rankled. An irrational reaction but one that couldn’t be helped. There was something about the woman that took Jake beyond his usual attraction for beautiful females. There was something about his feelings that felt intimate, almost familiar, even though that made no sense. The thought of her being with someone else was one he didn’t want to entertain. Neither did he want to consider the possibility that she might not entertain him either.
“Where’s the food?” he asked, for a diversion. “The same setup?”
Claude shook his head. “Grub is on the second floor tonight. The different flow is probably to accommodate the new game on tonight’s agenda.”
Jake raised a brow. He’d attended this party for the past four years and hadn’t bothered to read the invitation past date and time.
“Midnight scavenger hunt.”
“That’s different. Sounds cool.” With his previous ravenousness returning, Jake headed toward the stairs. As he mounted them, a plan began to form. He’d go on a hunt alright, but it would be a specific tigress, not random scavenging, that would be on his mind.
Walking as calmly and naturally as her suddenly noodle-like legs and hammering heart would allow, Sasha made her way through a throng of partygoers. She crossed a smartly appointed living room boasting a twenty-foot Christmas tree, down a hall lined with collectible art and into one of the ostentatious home’s fourteen bathrooms. Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding, slumping down on a nearby fur-covered stool. Not at the party ten minutes and already she’d found her target, the man who’d help her implement a daring, slightly lascivious and completely uncharacteristic plan she’d cooked up only days before. Sasha wanted to experience what it was like to be free. Incognito. How it felt to move in a place where no one knew her name, or her family. No one knew her dad. No one knew the weight that rested on the shoulder of any child bearing the McDowell name. Having secretly broken an engagement the month before leaving DC, Sasha also wanted to live out a fantasy, to experience a no holds barred, no strings attached sexual encounter with a man whom she was drawn to on physical energy alone.
That was not the type of intimacy she’d had since dating Lincoln. Sex with him had been average, predictable, with her almost always left wanting. Lincoln’s bedroom antics were as conservative as his political beliefs. The one time she’d suggested oral sex, he’d been so aghast one would have thought she’d asked permission to bite off his penis. Doggy style was about as naughty as he’d get. What would it be like to feel the way those women in the Harlequin Blaze novels she and her friends used to read at school felt? To be sexed into orgasm, left shivering and weak, delirious with pleasure? Did that really only happen in books and movies?
Sasha wanted to know, and she felt that a party like the one she was now attending may be one of the only ways she could ever safely find out. Reign, a sister of Lincoln’s good friend, Jake Eddington, had told her about HalloMask during a recent phone call. She’d laughed conspiratorially as she’d shared some of the shenanigans that went on there. As soon as the call ended, Sasha devised a plan and set it in motion. She worked quickly, before rationality took over and she changed her mind. The plan worked. Now here she was, with weak knees and a wet vagina, fantasizing about how to get Zorro into bed.
There was only one potential land mine she had to watch out for—Jake, the man who would undoubtedly be Lincoln’s eyes and ears for the duration of her Point du Sable stay. Not that she didn’t want to see him. To the contrary, if she had her truest wish come true, her sexual escapade would be with Reign’s brother. But to count off the reasons he was off-limits would take all her fingers and toes. Still, from the time her godmother invited her to Chicago, she’d thought about getting closer with Jake—a difficult task given his relationship with Lincoln, one made nearly impossible after learning the very man she secretly desired romantically had been made her protector, by her ex-fiancé no less, charged with keeping away any would-be suitors. That they’d secretly broken up didn’t matter. Sasha knew why Lincoln had taken the news so calmly. It was because he thought that this time would be like the others. That a month would go by, maybe two, and she’d change her mind. He was wrong. She wouldn’t. As soon as the holidays were over, she’d make the announcement. Then her ex would know for sure.
Her desires for Jake didn’t matter, especially tonight. According to Reign, there was only a slim chance he’d even be there. The party was happening on the same night as a Bears football game, a team boasting several of Jake’s clients and against a rival team that he almost never missed. “If he does show up,” Reign had told her, “he won’t be wearing a mask.”
“Why not?”
“Probably because my cocky brother doesn’t want to cover his thinks-he’s-handsome-but-not-really face. He usually dresses up as himself.”
Upon arrival, Sasha had taken a quick turn around all three floors. There were several men there not wearing masks. Jake had not been among them. His absence, at least for now, had been a huge relief and gave her the freedom she needed to truly be this new, adventurous version of herself. It was how she’d been able to walk up to a stranger and shamelessly flirt without the fear of someone watching and reporting her to Lincoln. Or her brothers. Or her parents.
Shaking away thoughts of exes and family and DC, Sasha refocused on the task at hand. You’ve met him, your boy toy for the evening. Now what?
Good question. For the first time since putting this cockamamie plan into action, Sasha allowed herself the luxury of actually thinking about what she was doing, to question the wisdom of carrying out the ballsy plan for the secret seduction of a total stranger, of taking advantage of an opportunity that might not ever come again.
The idea had sounded good at the time. In her mind. Back in the comfy confines of her suburban DC bedroom. Just after ending the call with Jake’s sister Reign. She’d called to say she wouldn’t be there to welcome Sasha when she arrived Sunday morning, that a last-minute model cancellation had her flying out to the West Coast to bail out a clothing designer friend. While chatting, Reign casually mentioned something else she’d be missing, the HalloMask affair, one of the Chicago elite’s must-attend parties of the year. Elaborate costumes were key, she’d explained, designed to hide one’s identity from a room of people who knew each other best. That was part of the night’s challenge, to see who could stay totally incognito the longest, although Reign had admitted that before the night was over many identities were guessed correctly.
It was a super private affair. But getting the details was easy. Reign had been more than happy to tell the suddenly super-interested Sasha all about the swanky mansion, the detailed invitation and the four-digit code that only invitees knew. She was a dear family friend who wasn’t even going to be in town until Sunday. What could it hurt? A plan began hatching almost immediately. One that would allow her to do something bold and uncharacteristic, to shed the very public, controlled persona that as the daughter of an ambassador, a prominent insider on Capitol Hill, she was perpetually chained to. As far back as she could remember, Sasha’s every move had been monitored, her life carefully planned. Her wardrobe, schooling, even love life was scrutinized and rid of any potential scandal. Even her fiancé had been parent-encouraged and approved, which was why a month after ending the relationship, the breakup was still tightly under wraps. Her now ex had asked her to keep this new development a secret. “Until you return from Chicago,” he’d added, undoubtedly thinking she’d change her mind, as had happened the other times she’d tried to end something that had never truly worked for her. This time was different. She was different. Yet she agreed to wait to break the news, partly because he’d asked but mostly because she wasn’t looking forward to ruining everyone’s holiday season, or the family fallout her decision would cause.
Less than an hour after hanging up with Reign, Sasha had changed her flight plans, hired a car service and booked a room at one of Chicago’s upscale hotels. She then phoned her godmother and let her know that she wouldn’t need picking up at the airport, but would join her for the scheduled brunch at the Eddington estate. Her fiancé, Lincoln, hadn’t questioned the change in plans. Her parents didn’t know about them. They loved and trusted Lincoln and would assume the night before flying to Chicago she was with him. They’d never think to guess otherwise. To them, she was still the shy, sheltered boarding school student who obeyed all the rules, not the confident, daring woman of twenty-four who’d once sneaked a boyfriend into her all-girls Swiss prep school or who, on a dare, had traveled across Europe alone.
The plan had been implemented perfectly. She’d arrived in town, gotten checked in and changed at the hotel and been driven over to the swanky neighborhood where the party was held. Only a tad of apprehension had entered as she placed fingers on the keypad and tapped in the code. When the door opened to a crowd of people, the sounds of music and laughter and the smell of amazing food, socialite Sasha felt at home. She’d gotten familiar with her surroundings and then spotted Zorro, everything a girl could want in a fantasy, and a whole host of butterflies had begun swarming again. She’d known immediately. He was the one. No way a man who could make her melt within seconds and without touching would not be frickin’ awesome in bed.
There was only one thing more frightening than putting together a ridiculous scheme. Going through with it.
Someone jiggled the door handle, rousing Sasha from her thoughts. “Just a sec!”
Sasha rose from the stool, wet one of the rolled towels with cold water and gently cooled her flushed face. She pulled lipstick and a powder compact from the furry clutch she’d purchased to match her outfit. After freshening her makeup and fluffing the waist-length golden wig, she took a deep breath and opened the door. A completely masked Black Panther was there to greet her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, as she stepped right to pass him.
Panther cut her off. “Whoa, slow down there, you sexy kitten. What say we get to know one another, you know, cat to cat.”
She placed her arms in the superhero’s popular pose. “Wakanda Forever!” she replied, before backing away.
“Hey, wait!”
Sasha hurried down the hall and up a flight of stairs, where what looked to be a fully-stocked professional bar was positioned at the far end of the room. There were fewer people up here and no sign of Zorro. Taking a deep breath, she slowed her pace and crossed over to get a glass of wine from the friendly bartender, then sat in a chair nearby. The accent chair was partially hidden by another of the home’s large Christmas trees, a perfect vantage point from which to check out the crowd and plot her next move. For the next thirty minutes, Sasha enjoyed playing the voyeur—sipping a second glass of good vintage vino and downing a small plate of scrumptious finger food. Reign had been right about the costumes, as clandestine as they were outlandish. Lots of wigs, sunglasses and full-faced masks boasting superheroes, celebrity look-alikes and movie characters; most identities were indeed hidden. Since he was wearing all black paired with a simple mask, Zorro’s costume had been one of the more revealing.
She’d hardly finished thinking of him when her tempting target appeared at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t alone. Cardi B was beside him. Or perhaps it was a long-haired Rihanna. Whichever star the woman’s costume was meant to copy, she looked beautiful in her skintight sequined gown, oversize shades, long black wig and five-inch Louboutins. She hung on to his arm and from the looks of things, his every word. Sasha felt an unwarranted stab of jealousy and was relieved when the woman laughed at something Jake said, squeezing his arm before walking over to a food-laden table. Sasha knew it was time to make her move, let him know she was interested before someone else staked a claim. In his costume, he might be mistaken for Zorro, or the Lone Ranger. But if this party was anything like some that she’d been to, he wouldn’t be alone for long.
