“To our thing, James.”
Except it wasn’t just a thing to me. Not at all.
***
In the shadowy alleyway across from Explicit, James Clarke transformed to Masque. He’d slicked back his hair before we’d left the restaurant, transformation phase one complete, now it was just the mask. I smiled as he fixed it on, heart fluttering at the promise of what lay ahead. Unlike usual, Masque wasn’t dressed in low-slung jeans. Masque was dressed to perfection in a fitted black suit, hugging his frame in all the right places. He took my hand unprompted as we crossed the road.
“I’ve never arrived here with anyone, Cat, not since Rachel.”
I smiled up at him. “Well, then I’m honoured, Masque.”
“Your half of the bargain now,” he whispered as we made our way up to the main floor.
“You really want me to do this?” I shot him an expression full of squick, and he smiled at me.
“It will surprise you, Cat, I promise. You’ll enjoy it.”
The lights on stage started up as we sipped our drinks, but this time Masque didn’t move us. I watched the shadows play out, a woman’s scream cutting loud across the music. I leant into the man at my side, breathing in the hot musk of his neck. “One day I want you to take me up there,” I said. “Like you did, Violet.”
“You want me to gape your cunt in front of an audience? You really are coming along, Cat, I’m impressed.”
“I want you to cane me up there,” I said. “I’m not sure about the gape thing.”
“Last week didn’t put you off all that much, then?” he grinned. “I am glad. The cane’s a favourite of mine.”
“You took your mask off for me,” I whispered. “I won’t forget that.” I slid my hand along the hard ridge of his thigh.
“I won’t be making a habit of it.”
“Even so, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Cat.” He tipped my wine glass as I was drinking, forcing me to glug it all right down.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“Trying to fill your bladder.”
He called the barman for another bottle.
***
The scene was still raging onstage as the urge to pee reached boiling point. I held off mentioning it at first, nerves getting the best of me, but eventually Masque called me out.
“You must need a piss now, Cat. You’ll be going like a racehorse at this rate.”
“Sorry, maybe I should go first? Take the edge of it?”
“No fucking way,” he growled. “I’ve worked up quite a thirst.”
“I do need to go,” I admitted. “I’ll have to try not to piss myself the moment I get off this stool.”
He smiled and took my hand. “Perfect timing, everyone’s on the main floor, which can mean only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s an empty wet room with our name on it.”
The room was empty, just like he anticipated. It was stark and plain, all white tiles and fluorescent lighting. It reminded me of a public swimming pool shower room, with a load of detachable showerheads jutting from the walls at regular intervals. One large drain sat ominous in the middle of the floor. Masque hung his jacket up on a coat hook by the entrance, un-cuffing his shirt and draping it along with it. He took my bag and placed it on a bench, and held his hand out for my shoes. I handed them over.
The room was cold, every noise echoing all about us, metallic and clinical. I caught the faint whiff of pine disinfectant. It made me feel even dirtier.
“Are you going to piss in that dress, or out of it?” Masque quizzed. “Your call.”
I opted to preserve the gown, despite what Rebecca had intended, and wriggled out of it, tossing it to him for safe keeping. He groaned on sight of my bruises, and I bloomed with a confidence that was still new to me.
I watched him undress. Every movement was calculated, every breath considered. His cock rose huge, allaying any doubt that the man really wanted this. He pinned me to the tiles in a heartbeat, tongue fierce in my mouth as his fingers found my clit.
“Trust me,” he breathed. “You’re going to feel so good, Lydia, so fucking good. Tell me when you can’t fight it anymore, I’ll be ready.”
The pressure built up, exasperated by the throbbing of my clit, but I kept quiet, forcing it back. He moved his head lower, sucking my tits into his mouth one by one. He slurped his way between them, wet and slick, teasing my nipples to life.
“I love your titties, Cat,” he hissed. “They’re so fucking ripe for me.”
I rested my head back against the wall, looking down on him through glazed eyes. I yelped as he bit down hard.