by Jesse Joren
Natalie was pulling on a sexy red lace mask that perfectly suited her brown, hooded cloak.
"By the way, nothing came back on those things you asked me to check," she said. "Are you sure that word was Strathshade? I ran every possible misspelling."
A lot had happened since that terrible night in the woods. Some of it might be vague, but Hex raving that strange word over and over was burned into my mind forever.
"Positive. Maybe it's good that nothing came up," I said,
"Probably it was mind-junk, like the crap people say when they're drunk. I'll keep looking. Hex or Stephen or whoever he is better show up soon, or I'm going to call that Del guy and tell him you've reconsidered."
She had a point, but the idea of anyone else, even someone as sexy as Del, had no appeal. Especially when I remembered Hex's voice in my ear as I rode waves of pleasure in the deserted elevator.
He might show up tonight. You're going to smell like an old tire.
Natalie went to my closet and came back with a pair of thick cotton socks. She balled them up and threw them at me.
"Put these down your pants. If you're going to be Darth tonight, you need swagger."
I went into the bedroom and arranged the socks down inside my black pants.
"How's that?" I asked, pulling up my cape and sauntering into the bathroom with a hip-thrusting strut.
"Lower," she said drily. "It looks like you have an abdominal tumor."
"Give me a break. I'm not a guy."
"Obviously."
Did I really want Hex to find me with a bad case of cotton crotch? It was too late now, plus he probably wouldn't show up.
If he did then he could take me as I was. Socks and all.
--
The Moonlight Masquerade was the most elegant event I'd ever attended, set against the lavish backdrop of the Buckhead Grand Hyatt. Tickets to the year's best charity event were expensive and hard to get.
As the key patron, Phillip bought tickets for anyone at the firm who wanted to go. Rumor had it that Stella wasn't pleased with his democratic gesture, but he held the final decision.
The proceeds went to a dozen Atlanta causes, and since Phillip was in charge, the money would end up where it belonged. A good thing that Stella had no interest in dirtying her manicure with any cause except herself.
Not that it stopped her from showing up to be seen among the glitterati. As we entered the high-spirited crowd of costumed guests, Natalie gestured toward a throng at the bar.
"Check out Stella," she said with a snort. "Sometimes there's truth in advertising. What a witch."
"Where?"
"The Maleficent chick with her boobs hanging out."
It was Stella without question, her sliver-thin mask designed not to hide her identity. Her skin-tight black costume plunged to Florida in the front and Cuba in the back, her fingers gleaming with diamond talons.
"Wasn't there some actual fabric on the Disney version of that costume?" I asked.
A waiter offered me a fluted glass from a loaded silver tray. The champagne was cold and sweet, but I could only drink by raising the mask to my nose.
"At least she got the horns right," Natalie said, taking dainty sips from her own glass.
Her sexy costume was a flashing beacon, drawing guys like moths to the flame. A couple of Stella's early fawners took one look at my friend and immediately came running, much to Ms. St. Clair's displeasure.
It's going to take a lot of Botox to fix that frown.
Natalie was fending off guys left and right, so there was no chance to talk. Big crowds weren't really my thing, but tonight it was fun to be anonymous under my heavy mask.
Stella's sour expression as Natalie owned the room already made me glad I was here tonight. All I needed was Hex, but so far there was no sign.
--
By ten-thirty enough booze had flowed to make the self-conscious early dance moves become club-worthy. No one was feeling any pain except maybe Stella, still looking pissed that Natalie had stolen her thunder.
Phillip appeared on the stage, thanking everyone and praising the charities. The cheers and catcalls when he finished his speech made him grin and wave, disappearing before any of his admirers could leap onstage to help him out of his tux.
"Did I see you dancing?" Natalie yelled, even though she was standing right beside me. The music was really cranked.
"A couple of girls asked me," I yelled back. "They couldn't resist my power."
I gave my attempt at Vader-breathing. It sounded like a defective vacuum cleaner, but it had proved very attractive to girls with several drinks down the hatch.
She was laughing. "Any sign of your guy?"
"Not yet. I'm glad you made me get out of the house."
For once it was true. Parties usually sent me home early, but this had turned out to be a good time, rubber mask and all.
"Who's your friend, Natalie?"
Not this. Not tonight.
"Hi Stella," Natalie said, her eyes sparkling wickedly behind the red lace. "You know him by reputation. Darth, meet Malevolent."
"Maleficent."
Now I heard the slur in Stella's voice. The fumes of her breath came right through my mask.
I made a sound like an asthmatic bulldog. She gave me an appraising look before turning back to Natalie.
"Where's Little Miss Eva tonight?" she asked.
Natalie gave me a quick side-eye. "She couldn't make it."
"The evening just got better," Stella sneered. "Phil only promoted her because she's always wiggling that big ass all over the office."
Natalie's eyes dropped to Stella's plunging neckline. "It’s tasteless when someone is so obvious," she said.
"Eva probably couldn't get a date and stayed home alone," Stella said. "By now she's eating her way through the leftover Halloween candy, or babysitting someone's dog. That's a better job for her than a business analyst."
Natalie gave her a murderous look and opened her mouth to speak. She was cut off as "Only Girl in the World" pulsed through the grand ballroom.
Stella took my arm. "Let's show this room some moves, Darth."
She gave a sudden, hard shimmy that turned several heads. Maybe some deep male instinct sensed that nipple-slip was coming soon.
My mask had crappy visibility through the narrow eye slits. Even so, I saw Natalie bent double and laughing as Stella dragged me onto the dance floor.
Chapter Seventeen
Why does this always happen to me?
Stella's heels made her taller than me in spite of my boots, but even a short Darth Vader was apparently a winner in her book. I tried to pretend that it was normal be wearing a rubber suit and dancing with my drunken boss.
"You're not bad!" she shouted, shaking her moneymaker for the benefit of everyone in the room.
Her words about me still stung. Did I have a big ass? Was I wiggling it at the office?
Gradually the music slowed and morphed into "Let's Get it On." Halloween horror surged through me as Stella pulled me close.
"You don't say much. I kind of like that," she purred.
She rubbed against me, feeling the sock bulge down my pants.
"So you like my dancing, huh?" she smirked.
While she was grinding, I looked for a low-key escape. People would notice if the Dark Lord of the Universe ran away while screaming like a little girl.
"I've got a room upstairs," Stella said. "Why don't we go up and show each other what's under our costumes?"
In desperation I brought my boot down on her foot, pretending to stumble. Her yelp was that of a Yorkie caught in a slamming car door.
"Are you drunk? That hurt!" She glared at me.
Good. Say something else about my ass.
Part of me wanted to rip off my mask and reveal myself, but that would humiliate me as much as her. Not to mention that it would be a one-way trip to the unemployment office.
Someone bumped into us, creating a welcome diversion. It was Natalie and
her current dance partner, jostling us even though the floor wasn't that crowded right now.
"Sorry," Natalie said, not looking sorry at all.
Her partner was in a mascot-style full costume, complete with oversized head. On closer inspection, I recognized Wile E. Coyote.
Stella sneered and turned away from them, dragging me with her. For a drunk society gal, she had some strength. She re-applied her bear hug, bringing her face close to mine.
"That tramp works for me," she slurred. "Probably thinks she's hot, but I'm hotter. What about it? Want to go up to my room?"
I shook my head as the song ended, prying myself out of her death grip. With a brief wave, I started off the dance floor.
"You little jerk!" she yelled. "Who do you think you are? I bet your cock is even shorter than you are!"
People were starting to stare. Right at the edge of the dance floor, Stella blocked me. She drew back with a dramatic sweep to slap me.
Wile E. Coyote was suddenly there, catching her hand in mid-swing. He guided her arm back down to her side, waving a naughty-naughty finger in her face.
"Get your hands off of me! I don't need a babysitter," she said, jerking loose. "And go to hell, Barf Vader."
The charm was simply oozing from her tonight.
She stalked from the dance floor as I gave Wile an exaggerated shrug. His oversized head bobbled as he gave me a thumbs-up and did a little shuffle with his enormous feet. He grabbed Natalie and led her back for another dance.
The ornate ballroom clock said it was only half an hour until midnight. With any luck I could avoid Stella if she returned to hit me or hit on me.
Neither was a good way to finish the evening.
--
"Three…two…one...masks off everyone!" a female voiced trilled over the loudspeaker. "Reveal your secrets!"
Masks of every type were being removed. Stella's deadly gaze seared me from across the room, so I decided to stay masked.
Natalie and her buddy the coyote were next to me in the crowd. Wile made a great show of removing the over-sized hands of his costume and pulling the red lace from around her eyes.
"Off with your head!" Natalie laughed, motioning for him to reveal himself.
He shook his head, kissed her hand, and danced into the crowd.
"I thought you knew him," I said. "Are you going to just let him walk off and not even get his name?"
"He didn't step on me once, even in those ridiculous feet. Did you see any sign of your mystery man so far?"
"No," I said, trying to keep my voice bright. "It was kind of a long shot that he'd show up on anyone's schedule but his own."
"I'm starting to think that his guy of yours needs some competition. If you took off that godawful costume –"
"Hey, I need some fresh air. Stella's perfume is still stinking up the inside of my mask," I said.
On the far side of the ballroom, Phillip was back and heading toward the stage.
"Text me when you're ready to leave," I told Natalie. "Gotta keep moving."
"You better hurry. Stella looks ready to come over here and rip off your non-existent balls," she laughed.
--
The Hyatt's Zen garden was deserted and quiet, dimly lit with flameless lanterns. I found a stone bench in the darkest corner and sat down, hearing the music's thump in the distance.
The disappointment I'd been crushing all night rose up inside of me. What had I been expecting? That Hex would appear like Rhett Butler and carry me off to a romantic midnight supper?
This had to stop. Natalie might have a point. Maybe I should go back to the party and let myself have a good time.
I still had Del's card, and he might still be in town. We'd dance and laugh and maybe get a room. It would be better than tossing and turning all night.
But who was I kidding? Hex had claimed me, whether he made good on that claim or not.
Around the edges of the lush foliage, I saw a police officer in full uniform coming up the dark path toward me. I had ignored the sign saying that the garden closed at ten, seeking some peace. Now I shrank back, hoping he wouldn't see me.
No such luck.
"Garden's closed," he said gruffly. "Got ID?"
With effort I forced a smile to my lips, jumping to my feet.
"Gosh, is it? Sorry about that, I –"
With one pounce he was on me, pushing me deeper into the leafy little alcove and pulling my arms behind me.
Too late I remembered something Phillip had said. Something about the combination of Halloween, masks, and Atlanta's elite gathered in one place making the police very nervous.
So what was I doing? Skulking alone in a dark, closed part of the hotel in a Darth Vader mask.
Darwin called. He wants his award back.
"I'm really sorry. Let me take off my mask," I said as he held my arms behind me.
"I thought you'd be taller, Vader." His gruff voice shifted to a cool, authoritative tone that made me catch my breath.
"And you don't sound very sorry," Hex said in my ear, "but you will be."
Chapter Eighteen
His low voice cut right through the throb of music. The scent of him surrounded me now, so much more potent than a secondhand whiff from a coat.
Automatically I looked around to see who else might be around. The garden was still deserted, but my face was on fire, with other parts catching up fast.
"I told you we were moving this to the next level," he said. "What's the matter? Are you not the daring girl you pretend to be?"
"Just being practical. There's probably a camera around here."
"Four in the garden alone, and one is right over us. They're no more of an issue than the ones at the Ritz."
He turned me around and pulled off my mask, cupping my face in his hands. The dim light made his eyes dark gray as he looked at me.
"Whatever we do is for us," he said. "No one else."
His fingers slid down my body, skipping lower to brush against my thighs. Crazy or not, it always felt right when he touched me like this. For a moment it was exquisite, his hand sliding up to cup between my legs, stroking me as I pressed against him.
Too late I remembered the socks. He reached down into the black pants and pulled them out, looking at me without expression.
"It was sort of a joke," I said. "Natalie was teasing me that if I was going to dress tough —"
My words dried up. I felt like a fool.
Then his lips were on mine, tracing my mouth in shivery little strokes that sent tingles all the way down to my toes. It was the most natural thing in the world to feel his tongue against mine.
"You taste like champagne," he said into the kiss. "How the hell did you drink in that mask?"
"It wasn't easy."
I pushed off his policeman's cap, sighing in relief to find the thick ponytail tucked underneath. "I was afraid you'd cut your hair for your act. You make a good cop."
He laughed and took a step away from me. "Wrong. I'm the bad cop. Get rid of the costume."
I untied the cape and let it drop before unsnapping the fake upper body and letting it fall too. It was a relief not to have the stifling rubber pressing against me.
"Now what?" I asked flirtatiously.
A slow glitter came to his eyes. He reached into the pocket of his uniform and came up with what looked like a pocket knife with a button. When he pressed it, several inches of wicked-looking blade sprang out.
He pushed me back into the alcove until a wall touched my back, the branches of a Japanese maple closing around us. With light pressure he ran the knife' along my jaw, the cold edge making me flinch.
"Exercise your right to remain silent," he said, "and shut the fuck up."
The words sent a quiver of recognition through me. I had heard them somewhere, but it didn't matter as Hex began cutting off my shirt with quick, deliberate motions.
"Someone is going to have a surprise when they find this tomorrow," he said, taking off the buttons in one pass
of the blade. "Not even any footage from this camera to help figure it out."
Two long strokes of the knife down my arms split the shirt into two pieces that slid off into the floor. My bra was black lace, designed to enhance rather than conceal.
"I remember this," Hex said, slicing the thin satin straps and making my breasts spring free. "It looks even better in the floor."
He made quick work of my pants, cutting and tugging until they were also a heap of scraps. The pretty black panties suffered the same fate as the bra, leaving me in nothing but my boots.
Only then did I meet his eyes. The raw reality of being naked with the sounds of hundreds of people partying not far away was terrifying, but thrilling. My whole body was on alert, teased to awareness by the cold strokes of the blade.
"You never leave my mind," he said, "but it still keeps surprising me just how fucking sexy you are."
I reached out and touched his face, tracing his smooth, tanned skin and the wonderful roughness of dark blond stubble. He caught my hand and kissed my palm.
"Back at Walden, I told you that when you whistle for the Devil, sometimes he shows up," he said. "Well, here I am again."
For the first time I noticed he was wearing a black knapsack. He reached behind him and came up with something soft and white.
"I've been saving this rope," he said. "Tonight it will get used, and so will you. Hands behind your head, and bend over."
His comment about exercising my right to silence clicked into place. A dirty little fantasy of a mouthy girl who got pulled over while speeding. And then…
"The Book of Eva, Volume 2," I said.
"Exactly. Page ninety-one."
My breath was uneven as I laced my hands behind my head and leaned over. The heavy sway of my breasts seemed amplified with every breath.
Hex passed the rope around the base of each breast like a lasso, tightening the knots just enough to make me wince. He wrapped more circles of rope, with each pass making the binding tighter, stretching my nipples tight and flat.
Several lengths went around my ribs, with several more looped over my shoulders. He was wrapping me in a rope bra, stretching everything tight and bringing every sense to high alert.
