Something Deeper

by Shara Azod

  “This way.”

  Sky trailed, not paying attention to the smooth painted walls or the colorful artwork. Classical music seeped out of incognito speakers and floral fragrances scented the hallways. Too nervous to think about anything but her own jittery feelings, Sky kept her eyes glued to the back of Lee’s head.

  A short distance from the elevators, Lee stopped short at a room. From behind the door, nothing could be heard. The door resembled all the others. Tan with a sandy gold embossed number in the center of the frame, about eye level with Lee.

  Lee turned around to Sky, grinning with full blown enthusiasm.

  “Surprise!” she shouted. “We’re here.”

  Sky frowned. “What’s here? What’s going on in there? You didn’t hire a prostitute or stripper for me. Did you? Because I’m too old for that.”

  Lee smiled. “No, but I do want you to know two things before we step through this door. Two very important things.”

  Not a stripper? What can be back there?

  “Keep your mind open,” Lee said, holding up a crimson tipped finger. “That’s number one.”

  “I’ll try,” Sky replied, not wanting to commit to something that might haunt or harm her later. “What’s two?”

  “Keep your options, like your mind, open.”

  With that, Lee turned to the door and knocked.

  In moments, the door cracked to a sliver of dimness and a voice.

  “Codeword.”

  “Dante’s swing.”

  The door opened all the way. A rush of murmurs, low light, and incense swept out to greet them.

  Lee strutted in. Sky followed, not nearly as self assured and eager as her friend.

  Code words? Secrecy? What have I stepped into?

  Lee stopped at the hotel room’s closet and waved Sky over to her. She whispered into Sky’s ear.

  “This place is for freaks! You are going to love it!”

  Sky looked around, peering at people through pockets of cigarette smoke and shady dim lightening. In the background, playing very softly was one of Barry White’s songs. Sky couldn’t make out the actual song, but she knew his voice at once. The song was for making love and very little else. For setting a mood and at the same time announcing that doing the do was what this party was all about.

  Good Lord! Lee’s brought me to an orgy.

  Sky forced herself to breathe, and to take big gulps before she hyperventilated into unconsciousness.

  She peered all the way to the room’s far end. A panel of windows took up three-quarters of the wall, overlooking Harmon and glimpses of the Vegas strip. At the end of the wall, in a corner, was in a single high back chair. The chair didn’t belong there. Sky could tell it had been moved to that spot. It faced the room, and seated inside of it was a woman with her skirt pushed up to her waist. Her head was tossed back and her eyes were shut tight as in deep thought. Blouse unbuttoned, a scarlet bra flashed between its folds. A large, tawny hand clutched one of the woman’s breasts as she glided up and down on someone’s lap. All that could be seen of the woman’s lover were his legs still clothed in trousers and his shoes. Despite the shadows, Sky could still hear the soft moans and the gentle noises of people doing the do—and in full view.

  “Yeah, you got that right,” Sky said, reeling back a step closer to the entrance.

  Orgy. Those people are straight up fucking in the corner. Goodness!

  “Oh, come on, chica. It’s life. Can you feel it?” Lee whispered with glee. “That pulse slipping over your skin is raw human energy. Lighten up and consume large quantities of it. Have a good time for once in your life. Grab that big O before you’re really too old.”

  “You sure you haven’t had a drink already tonight?”

  “I’m going to get lucky and you are too!” Lee said.

  Her round eyes locked on to Sky’s ignoring the implication she was drunk.

  “This is our last night in Vegas. Make it count.”

  With those encouraging words, Lee slapped a wrapped condom into Sky’s palm, squeezed her hand closed around it and stepped away.

  You’d think she gave me a damn stick of gum she was so casual about it.

  Lee approached another woman who wore a crimson lace teddy, glossy stilettos that tied up to her knees, and a matching ribbon wrapped around her throat—a late, naughty Christmas gift. Her stilettos fell quietly on the carpet, and her hair had been curled into loose, supple waves. The crimson color seemed to add gloss to her toffee skin, and her firm body only served to fill out the teddy’s more prominent points and highlight the outfits’ lack of material.

  She held a silver serving tray by the handles. The tray contained dozens of multicolored masks. Some had feathers, others had streamers, but none were the same.

  “Evening ladies and welcome to Dante’s Swing. Please, choose one of the masks. Leave your life behind and emerge as a woman of mystery, of pleasure, and of openness,” she said, voice a caressing calm against the rush filling the room.

  It was an invitation to illusion. That’s the thing with Las Vegas—everything was a damn illusion. One couldn’t really trust their eyes, ears, or any of their senses. So much could be faked, bought, and sold in this city. That’s one of the reasons why people came here. It was a meat market.

  Sky swallowed the acid mix of anticipation on her tongue. She stood behind Lee fighting the urge to bolt out of the room and race down to the lobby, call a cab and call it a night.

  Lee would never forgive her running out on her “present.” Her best friend wouldn’t lead her into something dangerous. After all, she’d been twice and liked it. How bad could it be? Really?

  She looked over at Lee, who of course, picked a fuchsia spotted, fake fur-trimmed one. The ivory fur traced the curvy top of the mask like a lazy caterpillar, fluffy and without care. She wasted no time stretching the elastic and pulling on her mask. She actually shimmed once she got it on.

  This is why she had insisted we wear our hair up tonight. To get the masks on without messing up our do’s.

  “And you ma’am,” the hostess said to Sky, presenting the silver tray toward her and bowing slightly, giving Sky a shot of her cleavage.

  Sky picked an ink-like one with fake pearls lining the top. Satin trim curved along the base. The mask covered all of Sky’s face except her mouth. It reminded her of the Phantom of the Opera’s white mask, only darker. Only Lee knew her and with the mask, she could be anyone.

  So could everyone in this room.

  Sobering to that realization, Sky followed Lee’s lead, and put on her mask as well, careful not to break the thin piece keeping it attached to her face. Amazingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable and she could see through the eyeholes with clarity.

  “Your cards,” the scantily clad hostess said having set down the tray, she now held a bone china plate with a series of cards and miniature pencils scattered over it. “Select one card and one pencil.”

  The cards were no larger than playing cards. Lee took hers, snagged a pencil, and promptly darted off to the suite’s living area.

  Sky took a card and pencil too with her hands trembling. A list of names, if one could call them that, ran down the left hand side of the card. A box was on the right for each name. There were no directions.

  “Excuse me,” Sky said quietly, trying hard not to stare at the hostess’s large bosom which threatened to spill from its fragile confinement and out into the soft warm air.

  The coffee toned breasts called to Sky’s curiosity. They were so firm and big. Supported by the sheer strength of underwire, the hostess’ package was on top display, like mangos at a market. A valley of coffee toned flesh had been pressed into cleavage so stirring, Sky thought the woman had some surgery to achieve it. Cinnamon dark areoles pressed against the thin lace, the nipples tiny stones fighting to be freed from their confinement.

  I shouldn’t be staring at this woman’s chest like that. God!

  Coughing out her awkwardness, Sky asked, “What is this f
or?”

  The hostess smiled—a kind, but kinky smile. One that said she’d suck and lick anything Sky asked her to, or anyone in the room for that matter.

  It made Sky’s heart thunder and to her horror, her panties damp.

  A faucet turned on—rusty as it was.

  “You new?”

  “Y—y—yes,” Sky managed around her rapidly closing throat.

  “Good,” the hostess purred, raking her nails across her cleavage. “It’s always good to have someone new to try.”

  She smiled again—a hungry one. Her eyes drifted over Sky’s satin dress, down her legs, across her toes and back up to her face.

  “Well, for one thing, suga, you’re way overdressed. For another, there are plenty of men here who like a woman with a little umph and age.”

  “Excuse me?” Sky balked, hands on her hips, rearing back in insult.

  “You know, your umph in those hips and thighs, and right around your waist. Men here like that too. All kinds of flavors and sizes are welcomed at the swing. You get me?”

  Sky blushed. Yeah, she got it.

  No woman had ever looked at her with such raw lust. If it had been a man, well, Sky would’ve blushed too, but having a woman do it, turned something on inside her. Not quite sure how she felt, Sky gave the hostess a nervous smile.

  Referencing Sky’s body as one with umph made her feel appreciated. Wow. At least she didn’t have to deal with that expectation tonight. Ted, her ex-husband, used to call her a fat, pudgy, porky the last fifteen years of their marriage, which was why he was an “ex”.

  No, you aren’t going to spoil this Ted. Get out of my head!

  “The card?” Sky asked, trying to get herself together, and leave the strange feelings and Ted’s attitude out of her system. “What’s it for?”

  “Oh, yeah, that. It’s a checklist. This is a freak mixer. Once you meet the man on the list, you mark on your card if you’re interested in, uh, learning more. Simple as that.”

  “And if I am?”

  Though the thought terrified her a bit, she had to ask. A freak mixer? Holy Christmas! She wasn’t a freak and well, what if all the men here expected her to be?

  The hostess smirked at her.

  “Honey, if you interested and he interested, then go get your freak on.”

  Feeling the plastic edges of the condom wrapper press against her palm, Sky drifted off to the living section. She glanced back and caught the hostess’ eyes on her ass. Now she really felt more vulnerable and on display. She didn’t think she should like a woman checking her out, but maybe she was secretly thrilled someone was. At 39 it didn’t happen often anymore. The hostess’ lustful looks turned on Sky’s yearning and her clitoris beat against her panties, panties that shouldn’t even be close to being as damp as they were right then.

  She blew out a stream of air. If she was already horny, what would these men think? They’d be circling her faster than sharks with blood in the water.

  I’ve got to settle down and not jump at the first man who shows an interest. Yes, it’s been awhile, but I can do this. Yes, I can.

  Releasing a deep breath and shooting the hostess a tight smile, Sky started toward the larger section of the suite.

  Here we go.

  The living area was intimate with warm red and earthy tones splashed about in contemporary décor. A low ceiling and even lower lighting made it all feel seductive and sexual, intimate and interesting, all at the same time. Two loveseats, both tan, a round bistro-style table with two chairs, a queen size bed, and a bathroom rounded out the suite. All around people were in pockets and moving between those pockets in hushed tones and quiet conversations. Not that she could make out much. The room felt private because the organizers had made it a point to create chasms of privacy.

  It looks more like a brothel or harem would in some exotic movie.

  It all felt much too public to be so private.

  So, she let out a brave sigh and searched around the densely peopled room for a possible candidate or better yet, Lee. The guy couldn’t be within any range of her students. Just because there wasn’t supposed to be anyone here under 18, didn’t mean there weren’t some young-thangs lurking about.

  She scanned the list and groaned at the names. Mandingo. Mack Daddy Jones. Prince of Players. Great Dane. Cashmere.

  And this is what I have to work with?

  Sighing, she had to admit to herself that finding a partner for the night wouldn’t be too terrible. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

  Why am I here? I should be back at my hotel, packing.

  Sky realized that her skin was tingling. Feeling someone’s eyes on her, she looked over to the queen bed, which was closer to her and at the edge of the suite, like a gateway before descending to the living area of loveseats and chairs. Dressed casually in a shirt of some color and dark slacks, the gentleman was hidden in the gloom cast by a neighboring candle. Unable to make out anything more from this distance, Sky knew one thing for certain. He was not just glancing around.

  Nope, he meant to look at her.

  He moved then, scooting closer to the candle’s illuminating arc and his face fell into view.

  As their eyes timidly met, her pulse zipped as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Without waiting, Sky glanced away, cheeks warm from being so bold as to stare at a man—a stranger. Women her age didn’t gawk with their mouths gaping like a fish.

  Vegas. She reminded herself. This is Vegas. Live!

  Somehow the voice in her head sounded a lot like Lee, but Sky shook it off. The truth couldn’t hold her back, nor could it set her free. And the sad truth was she was afraid. Fear had frozen her to the spot. She didn’t want to be hurt anymore. Taking chances were for the brave, the bold, and the young, not for emotionally scarred school teachers.

  When she had convinced herself to try, she looked again. The gentleman patted the spot on the bed beside him where he sat Indian fashion, encouraging her to come over.

  Live!

  Okay, here goes nothing.

  Starting for the bed, Sky tried to slow down her thundering heartbeat. It seemed as if she’d been injected with pure adrenaline, just from one single eye contact. All over, she shuddered. This was so new and strange and awkward.

  Don’t be an idiot, Sky. It’s only a look. A single, solitary glance.

  Her body didn’t take it as a simple anything. Beyond the hammering of her heart, her skin felt aflame, and she’d broken out in a sweat. The dampness between her legs only served to increase her elevated hormonal state. Without even thinking about it, she squeezed her thighs together, relishing the shuddering sensation as it flowed over her. Sky drew her lower lip between her teeth and did it again. The sheer lace of her bra rubbed against her now stony nipples, making them harder. She sighed in spite of herself. Physically shaking, she planted both hands firmly on her waist to steady herself as she walked.

  What’s wrong with me? It was only a look!

  What had she been thinking? Vegas. Yeah. This was Vegas. The V-bug had bitten her. The thought had become a litany in her head. And here she thought it was going to be a stripper! Nothing could have prepared her for this surprise.

  She reached the bed and sat gingerly down beside the mysterious man. Up closer, she could make out that his hair was a little too straight to be fully African American. A light chestnut, his hair was long, and straight as an arrow. Tousled a bit, it fell to his shoulders.

  Outside of that, she couldn’t make out much. He too wore a mask, and like hers, it was black. Unlike hers, tiny feathers lined the left side of the mask running down to the edge of his jaw line. The other half of the mask was shorter, ending at the end of his nose, revealing a lighter complexion than hers along his cheeks and thin lips. Coupled with the shadows, and his hair, Sky couldn’t make out the rest.

  About the only thing she knew for sure was that he was younger—way younger. Mid-twenties at the most.

  “You must be new,” he sa
id, his voice like silk brushing across her body. “I haven’t seen you before. A virgin.”

  “What? I beg your pardon,” Sky asked, sitting up straight, her teacher voice set to on.

  I’m probably old enough to be your mother! Watch your tongue!

  She didn’t say this last out loud, but it tittered dangerously close to escaping her lips.

  He laughed, a soft musical sound. “No, no, I meant virgin as this being your first time to a freak party.”

  “Oh, oh, sure. My first time.”

  “On your list, my name’s Cashmere,” he said, so calmly, but with a hint of naked sexuality.