by Amy Brent
Sammy asked, “So, what do you think we should do?”
“Two words,” I said with a smile. “Masquerade ball.”
* * *
An hour later, the plans had been made and Sammy headed to his office to call his uncle Monte to make the arrangements. Club D would host a huge masquerade ball over the weekend starting on Friday night at nine and carrying the theme through the entire weekend until midnight on Sunday. All the Escorts and Specialists would wear nothing but masks to cover their eyes and jewels to adorn their bodies.
There would even be an auction at midnight on Friday so the members could bid on the girl—or girls—they wanted to spend time with. By Monday, we’d have raised tens of millions of dollars for charity and hopefully, everyone would have had a good time.
“Hey, I forgot to ask earlier,” I said as Denny and I were walking down the hallway toward our offices. He was on one front-facing corner of the fifth floor and I was on the other. “Tell me what you know about Amy Rossetti.”
He stopped to give me a curious look. “Amy Rossetti, the consultant that spoke this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s see, if you heard her speak you know she’s obviously brilliant, not to mention very hot in a subtle librarian sort of way…”
“Is that it?” I asked.
“Who the fuck am I? Google?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes, that’s all I know about her. Why do you ask?”
“I just met her this morning for the first time,” I said with my hands in my pockets. I shrugged. “She just seemed… interesting.”
“I’ve met her a few times,” he said. “Interesting is one word you might use to describe her. Along with cold, icy, condescending, arrogant, bitchy…”
“Okay, okay,” I said, smiling, patting him on the arm. “I get the picture. I’ll see you later.”
He went his way and I went mine. My way led me to my office with the door closed and a browser open to Google. I typed in Amy Rossetti’s name and spent the next hour perusing articles she’d written, watching videos of talks she’d given, and staring at photos taken at various events where she’d lectured.
Sadly, there was no secret sex tape or hacked naked photos.
But Denny was right.
She was beautiful but looked arrogant, bitchy, irritated, and completely unapproachable.
But there was something about her.
Something in her eyes…
Sadness…
Regret…
Perhaps the ashes from a long-smoldering fire?
Fuck, just listen to me.
Who was I?
William freakin’ Shakespeare?
I was more like Edgar Allen Poe.
Regardless, I would not have been able to explain it if you had asked me to at that moment, but something inside told me Amy Rossetti was a woman I would enjoy getting to know, though sadly, I probably never would get that chance.
Chapter 6: Amy
I managed to keep Serena at bay for the rest of the afternoon because I was neck deep in a research project for MIT that was due in a few weeks. I probably should have hired a formal researcher to assist me, but I liked doing it all myself. It kept my mind occupied and my hands busy. I had never been good with idle time. My mom always said that when I was a toddler the only time I was completely still was when I was asleep. I was thirty-two now and not much had changed.
Serena came back into my office a couple of times to update me on my revised schedule, but I pretended to ignore her. I would call back the clients she had rescheduled in the morning and carry on like it was a normal day. I would NOT be going to Club D for the weekend, no matter how appealing the idea was on the surface. I was a highly-regarded expert in my field. I had contracts with the US government and a dozen Fortune 100 companies. I had a reputation to protect, and unlike most men who would chuck it all for a quick roll in the hay, I would not risk my security and reputation for any man, not even one as sexy as Isaac Hanson.
By the time I came up for air it was nearly seven o’clock and I looked around to find myself alone in the office. The only light in the place was from my computer screen and the small lamp Serena always left burning in the lobby. Serena had left hours before, leaving me with strict instructions about my day on Friday.
I’m not sure what time it was, but I looked up to find her standing in the doorway with her phone at her face, barking orders at me like a drill sergeant. “All your appointments for tomorrow have been rescheduled. Be at Terra Dolce Salon & Spa at 10 AM for hair, a facial, nails, and a bikini wax.”
I frowned at her. “Why do I need a bikini wax?”
She scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me now? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ll bet you’ve got a fucking jungle growing down there. This ain’t Australia, Amy. No man wants to go trekking into the bush looking for a piece of pussy.”
“You’re terrible,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Don’t worry. There’ll be no man trekking into my bush this weekend.”
“Whatever. You still need to get it done. I’m surprised you haven’t developed some kind of twat rash from all that hair.”
I smiled but looked in the other direction so she couldn’t see it. It was easy to see why all six of my brothers loved Serena—and were constantly dogging me to hook them up with her. She was not only “smokin’ fuckin’ hot”, to quote my oldest brother, Anthony, she could also hold her own with any foul-mouthed Italian that came along, and there were fewer Italians more foul-mouthed than my brothers. It helped that Serena came from a large Hispanic family of five brothers and six sisters, of which she was smack dab in the middle.
“Again. You’re terrible.”
“Terrible or not, you gotta get that bush trimmed,” she said, clicking her tongue. “The freakin’ health department is gonna start sending you notices you’re so overgrown down there.”
“Oh my god, I am not!” I said, though, by her standards, I probably was. Serena had mentioned in the past that she kept her bush completely shaved clean. I couldn’t imagine it. I mean, would that itch like mad when the hair started coming back in?
I held up my hands in defeat just to make her go away. “Fine. Anything else?”
“Yes, hang on,” she said, finger swiping up and down, reading my agenda from her phone. “You have a three o’clock to get your makeup done at Sephora, then… that’s it. You need to pack a bag for the weekend. There’s an indoor pool and tennis courts for the guests and staff that Mr. Lemon said you could use, so pack your gear. And make sure you bring that little black dress, you know, the one you wore to the Symphony Gala last year; the one that pushes your big tits together and shows off your legs? And a pair of high heels that make your calves look toned.”
“My calves are toned,” I said. “I’m a runner. Remember?”
“Great. And the higher the better. Stilettos, if you have them.”
“Christ, Serena, you really should be a personal stylist to the stars, you have such a winning way about you.”
“You have great tits and a great ass and great legs,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “It’s time you showed them off. No man is going to be attracted to you while you’re wearing that librarian shit you have on every day. And speaking of…” She walked to the desk and picked up my fake glasses. “Leave these fucking Coke bottles at home.”
“I need those,” I said, reaching for them. “Give them to me.”
“Amy, you have perfect vision,” she said, backing up and taking the glasses with her. “I’ll return these to you on Monday. This weekend, the only things that will be impairing your vision are alcohol and Isaac Hanson’s giant cock.”
“Oh my god,” I said, clutching my chest like I was having a heart attack. I’d had enough. I held out my hand to shoo her away. “Okay, that’s enough. Leave so I can finish this.”
She stood in the doorway, eyeing me for a moment, like a human bullshit detector. “I mean it, Amy. You’re going to become an old maid if you
don’t break out of this cocoon you’ve built around yourself.”
“Thank you, Serena. Goodbye. Have a nice night. See ya later.”
I should have been more irritated at her, but I couldn’t be because she was right.
I had built a cocoon and crawled inside and sewed it shut.
Maybe it was time to bust out and spread my wings a little.
At least for a couple of days.
* * *
The car service dropped me at my downtown apartment a little after seven. Carlton, the doorman who always wanted to make chat about my day, started to say something, but I waved him off and headed for the elevator. He already thought I was a bitch—everyone did—so I wasn’t too concerned with hurting his feelings. Besides, I always gave him a nice card at Christmas time with twelve one-hundred-dollar bills inside, one for each month of the year. I might have been a cold bitch, but I knew how the game was played. Pissing off your doorman was one thing you never wanted to do, regardless of how rich and successful you were.
And no offense to Carlton, I was simply too tired to talk to anyone. I’d been going full bore since 5 AM and was ready to drop. All I wanted to do was grab a quick bite, soak in a hot tub for an hour, and fall into bed.
I hadn’t decided what I was going to do on Friday: reschedule my appointments, take a free day, or actually prepare to spend the weekend with Serena at Club D.
I doubted very seriously the latter would ever take place.
Still, to be fair to Serena, whose feelings I did care about, I’d sleep on it and see how I felt in the morning, though I doubted I’d take the idea any more serious than I did now.
* * *
I was standing at the back of the stage, peering out through the heavy curtain. The auditorium lights were down low, but I could tell that there was no one seated out there waiting for me to speak. Had they all forgotten? Was I too early? Had the event been canceled and no one bothered to tell me?
“There’s no one here,” a deep voice whispered in my ear. “It’s just you and me. I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s perfectly alright,” I said without turning around. I didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice in my dream belonged to. Isaac Hanson was standing behind me, so close that I could feel his hot breath on my neck. My hair was in its usual bun. He expertly removed the pins to let my hair fall over my shoulders. He swept it around to the left side so his lips could kiss my neck on the right. I didn’t flinch when I felt his warm hands on my hips, pulling me back into him. His cock was hard and moist at the tip. I could feel it rubbing slowly up and down the crack of my ass. It was at that moment that I realized we were both naked. The heat of his body against mine made me sigh.
I leaned back against him and turned my face toward his. He smiled as he lowered his lips to mine. His lips were warm and soft and wet. His tongue swirled around my lips, then slid between them to probe my eager mouth. When our tongues met, I heard and felt little sparks of electricity shoot through my body.
His hands slid from my waist to my big tits. He cupped my melons and worked my nipples gently between his fingers. The pleasure spread through me like a warm breeze. My nipples plumped like strawberry gum drops.
“You’re beautiful, Amy,” he said, breathing into my mouth. His hands slid down my stomach. His fingers trekked through the thick curls above my clit. He didn’t complain about my bush. He kissed me again and slid his index fingers down the sides of my clit and pressed it between them, then rubbed slowly up and down, milking my clit like a hard, little cock.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, his lips at my ear.
“Yes… don’t stop…” I said as I reached around to take his cock in my hand. It was long, thick and girthy. I could feel the plump veins along the shaft as my hand began to slide back and forth over the muscle, back and forth, back and forth.
“Do you like my big cock?” His fingers slid further down, between my pussy lips. Hot juices were flowing out of me now, like a river about to flood. My juice flowed over his fingers. I could feel myself gushing, streams of hot sex running down the insides of my thighs. Isaac slid two long fingers inside me and began working them in and out.
“Fuck me… with your big cock,” I said, moaning the words, the breath catching in my throat. “Please… Isaac… fuck me now.”
Without a word, he put his hands back on my hips and I leaned forward with my ass out and my hands on my knees. My big tits hung from my chest and swung freely as I breathed. I could feel his cock, the head swirling around my juicy hole, lubing, probing, exploring. When he pushed into me, I could feel my hole expanding around him, the walls of my pussy giving way for his girth.
“Easy,” I moaned. “Slowly… fuck me… slowly…”
“No,” he said, fingers tightening on my sides. “I’m going to fuck you hard, Amy. Like you deserve to be fucked. Like you want to be.”
Before I could say a word, he thrust into me with such force that the breath was pushed from my lungs. His cock filled every inch of me, stretching my pussy, the tip slamming into my cervix. My body was suddenly on fire from the pain and pleasure. Sweat washed across my face and tits. My pussy responded by gripping him tightly, milking the long shaft like a thousand little fingers.
“Oh… fuck… that… feels…”
“Amazing,” he said, thrusting in and out steadily, shoving his cock in hard as far as it would go, only to withdraw it slowly and thrust in hard again.
I could feel him everywhere inside me.
My cunt…
My tits…
My throat…
My brain…
Isaac was fucking me hard and fast and deep like no man had ever fucked me before. And I fucking loved it…
“God… I’m... going to… cum…” I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my ass back toward him, daring him to go in deeper, harder, faster. I was on fire… I could feel the orgasm building from my curled toes… It crept up my legs like a thousand spiders… It rammed into my cunt with the force of a hurricane hitting the shore… My pussy exploded… Gushing wave after wave of hot juices over his long cock and balls… Shooting lightning through me… fuck…. Isaac… fuck…
“Oh… jeeeeeeezzuzzzzz…” I whined. “I’m cumming… fuck… Isaac... cum with me… fill my pussy with… your hot… milky… cum…”
I heard him grunt like an animal as he rammed his long cock into me as far as it would go. He held it there for a moment, his fingers digging into my sides. My pussy grew hot as his load filled me. I came again from the heat. I came again… again… again…
Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.
I was suddenly again standing alone at the back of the stage.
The auditorium was dark.
I was naked and very cold.
Alone.
Again.
Always alone.
I woke myself up crying, as I’d done many nights before when the realities of my world interrupted my dreams.
I dried my eyes on the sheet and looked at the clock.
It was 3:18 AM.
I knew at that moment what I had to do.
Serena was right.
I had to make a change.
Chapter 7: Isaac
Only a handful of people really knew what went on inside the hundred-fifty-year-old estate that housed Club Votre Désire. Tucked in the mountains north of San Jose, the main house sat nearly a quarter of a mile from the winding road that led up the mountain, and in the summer time was barely visible through the thick rows of trees that lined the narrow drive.
There was a large stone and iron gate at the road that was guarded 24/7 by a team of armed guards that no one in their right mind would dare fuck with. Big boys, mean looking sons of bitches, with round shoulders and thick necks that strained against the black, tactical outfits they wore, like our own private SWAT team. In truth, it was mostly for show. Mostly. They were all Sammy’s former football buddies who moonlighted for us as guards and security per
sonnel. They wouldn’t hurt a fly… unless the fly gave them cause to. Then, pity the fly.
It was all part of the deal. When you often had senators and congressmen and a vice president and other assorted politicians and world leaders on hand, the security had to be high. There were many weekends where we had the Secret Service and Interpol patrolling the grounds around the estate. They weren’t allowed to come into the main house, but I knew they were always close by.
The main house—if you could call it a house—sat on fifty mostly-wooded acres and loomed four stories tall. It had once been a grand hotel built by some rich steel baron out of New York, with over 55,000 square feet of indoor space, now divided into thirty luxury suites on the top three floors. The bottom level housed a full-blown 5-star restaurant, an enormous bar, a dozen small meeting rooms, and the main banquet hall, which was the length and width of a football field. There was a 10,000-square foot guest house out back of the manor house with thirty double rooms for the employees who came to stay each weekend. The place was like a small, self-contained city. All you had to do was ask for it, and it could be found at Club Votre Désire.
We treated the place like a fortress because that’s exactly what it was: a fortress that housed the deepest, darkest secrets of some of the country’s most powerful people, myself included. I was not just an owner. I was an active participant at Club D. I drank and fucked and made a bloody fool of myself as much as the next guy. I certainly didn’t need that brought up the next time I did a TED Talk on Net Neutrality or Say No To Porn.
