“Well, faceless, yes,” he laughs and caresses his bulge again. “But what I’m seeing is doing insane things to me. You have a perfect body; I will never forget that.”
“I’ve been with exactly zero men and no women if your imagination is trying to fill in that blank. So, no matter who you are or how many meaningless nights you’ve had with your parade of randos, you will always be my first. So…” Jesus, I am about to cry. Why am I so emotional? “Just let me know when the hour is over.” I take another drink and wipe the tears from my eyes.
He pauses for a moment, probably now wanting me to leave. I feel so uncomfortable, so vulnerable, so unaccustomed to my own skin—like my body is suddenly a foreign country.
“Okay,” he says softly and settles into the couch with his scotch in hand, not standing up to escort me out. “Here’s the issue. You are a virgin in your twenties. At some point, you should, as an independent woman, own your sexuality.”
“Just because I haven’t had it, doesn’t mean I don’t own it.”
“Let me rephrase this. I’m an expert; I understand a woman’s body better than they know themselves. I won’t tell you why, but I have more than a sexual interest in human beings. Our bodies are like mysteries, like poetry, like outer space. I love them, especially women’s bodies. I meant it when I said yours is the most beautiful I’ve ever beheld. Team that with your sparkling grit and honesty, and you, Red, are a whole incredible package. One day the right man will have the honor of marrying you, and when he does, I hope you remember me. What I teach you tonight will help you and him be incredible lovers.”
“You know you’re talking about a man who doesn’t exist, right?”
“He will. Trust me, Red, you're the kind of woman who will be married, and hopefully, he’ll treat you like a queen.” Fuck, why is he saying the right things? “Tonight, I’ll pretend I’m him. Will that make you feel better?”
Would it? If he treats me like I am something special, if I am his queen, his wife for the night? Would I be able to get through having incredible sex with the hottest guy I've ever met and walk out one hundred thousand dollars richer, never looking back?
“What do you mean by that?” I am shaking—with excitement, with arousal, with all of these fucked-up feelings.
“Just like I said: tonight we’re wearing masks. I’m Mr. Cock and you are Red. We’re going to pretend we’re a couple. I’ll breach your virginity with gentleness and skill—two things I have in abundance. I know exactly how to make this evening perfect for you. Then I’m going to get your bank details and give you money as I would if you were my wife. The only difference is you and I will probably never see one another again. I’ll remember you, never fear. As a bonus, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t plan on being married, so tonight, with you, will be the only time I have sex with ‘my wife.’” He uses air quotes to make sure I know this is a fantasy. “So, you’re not a rando.”
Wow, that is quite an offer—fake as fuck—but the fact that he is willing to pretend makes me feel better.
“Would you really do that?”
“It would be my honor. I'm not usually a very good man, so tonight will be fun for me. I get to pretend to be someone's hero, and I don't actually have to do anything that heroic. Come on Red, don’t deny yourself the best sex you’ll ever have.”
“Modest,” I laugh.
“I don’t have to be.” He stands up.
Definitely now has the bulgiest bulge I’ve ever seen. Shit, is that all going to go inside of me?
I stand up too, because, well, I guess we are standing up. “I gotta say, I’m a little terrified.” I am.
He smiles warmly, and what I can see of his bright green eyes through the gold fox mask is a sparkle and sheen that radiates genuine delight.
“First, don’t be nervous, please. I’ve got this.” He raises his long, beautiful index finger and curls it to beckon me over. “Come here.”
I take a deep breath, pulling my skirt down instinctively. This makes him laugh as I walk over to stand before him. His warm hands brush my hips, and then he smooths them over my ass and brings me closer to him. Again, I take a deep breath. With determination, he kisses me softly, then kisses my neck, making his way down my body. He kisses my sternum, bypassing my breasts that are begging for him,and kisses my belly. Sitting back on the couch, he lifts my skirt and kisses the top of my black satin panties, then each thigh.
“Mr. Cock,” I breathe, hating his nickname and his rooster mask.
Why is it all so literal? It’s as if this is his plan: Find a vulnerable woman, give her the moon, and have a night of sex and pleasure with no strings attached. While it feels deliberate, I find myself unable to resist him.
“Let me do this, Red.” He kisses the inside of my thigh, then farther down my left.
His hands continue the journey as he gently removes my broken shoe from my foot. His eyes widen on the glue holding the heel in place, and he frowns.
“Have you been wearing these all night?” he asks, stepping out of character for a moment.
“I didn’t have time to change them before you abducted me.” I offer a sly grin.
He turns the shoe over in his hand, and his frown deepens. “Do you have shoes that aren’t glued?”
“I have a pair of Crocs in my bag downstairs.” I flash him a grin.
“I don’t know which is more horrific,” he sneers.
