There is a short line, since I’m still pretty early. I wanted a good seat so had timed it just right, not entirely sure what the VIP ticket even meant. Perhaps my earlier thought was correct and everyone got one, just a marketing ploy after all.
But as I glance around at the others standing in line, I don’t see anyone else with a red envelope. I dig my ticket out of my belt bag so it’s ready when I get to the front.
My curiosity builds as the queue inches its way forward until, by the time my turn comes to hand my ticket over, I have butterflies in my stomach waiting to see what will happen. I hold it out to the two incredible women taking tickets.
I think they are some type of gothic clowns, in completely black and white costumes, with black-and-white striped corset dresses. Each has one white and one black leg, thick white stage makeup with creepy black eye makeup and lipstick. Even their hair is half black and half white. I can’t wait to see the rest of the costuming, and the show, with this as the preview.
The ladies exchange a sideways glance and then each give me a chilling smile. Out of the shadows steps a large figure in a hooded black robe. Peeking out of the hood is the beak of a long plague mask. As the ladies turn toward the figure, I see they each have a raven tattoo on the back of their shoulders, like the one that had been on the seal from the envelope.
I guess I’m supposed to follow the hooded figure who comes to stand in front of me. Given his size, I assume he is a man, but I can’t see anything of him except part of the mask and the swirling black cloak.
This isn’t scary as shit,I think.I hope this isn’t the start of some weird kidnapping movie. He turns and starts walking. After a brief hesitation, I follow. It’s either that or get left behind.
The butterflies have multiplied, and I am both super nervous and super excited. As we turn and walk down a dim hallway, my palms start to sweat. The figure turns into a stairwell and starts heading down.
I hesitate because this is getting creepier by the minute. He pauses on the landing and looks up at me, staring in silence while my pulse thunders in my ears.
My vision dims and I slump against the wall, trying and failing to ground myself with the feeling of the cold cinder block against me. Before I can attempt to ward it off, I’m thrust deep into another waking dream.
For the first time, one has found mein flagrante delicto.The details are so vivid, I can feel the soft fur clenched in my hands and cushioning my knees from the stone floor below. The ferocious heat of an enormous open fireplace to my side causes sweat to drip down my neck and roll down my breasts, where it drips off my nipples to the furs below.
I gasp, realizing with startling clarity that I can feel each finger in a bruising iron grip on my hips, holding me at the mercy of someone’s punishing pace. The rising need in me urges me to arch my back further, desperately trying to get closer but held immobile.
I’m so fabulously full, but something is missing–I need more. I can feel this has been a marathon session, from my ragged breathing and quaking muscles, bathed in firelight and sweat.
One hand leaves my hip to gently caress down my spine, making a series of sharp slaps landing on my ass even more surprising, but just what I need to bring me one step closer to cresting this flaming peak. My mouth drops open in a silent scream, flooded with the salt of my own tears and sweat from this exquisite and unrelenting torture.
I toss my head, dislodging the long curls that cover my face like a curtain. I must see the face of my tormentor who is keeping me on this razor’s edge of pleasure. I strain to look over my shoulder at the man who expertly thrusts behind me, shocked to find him wearing a stylized raven mask.
He fists my hair, keeping my gaze on him. The exquisite pull of my hair, coupled with his anonymity, pushes me over the edge. I feel my inner walls ripple around him, triggering him to swell and explode inside me, the sudden filling warmth pushing my own release even higher.
I barely recognize the animalistic sounds falling from my lips, only his iron grasp on my hip and hand tangled in my hair keep me from collapsing bonelessly into the furs beneath me.
He thrusts impossibly deeper, riding out the end of his orgasm and pushing me into aftershocks of my own. He stills, reaching up to rip off his mask.
The shocked gasp from the doorway reveals I am not the only one surprised to see Luke Devlin behind me, eyes fully black and smiling his cheshire grin like a well-pleased demon. It snaps both of our attention to a desolate McHottie, who collapses onto his knees, arms outstretched, reaching for me.
As fast as I succumbed to this dream, I’m back from the castle-like room to the present-day stairwell and feeling fine. I reach up to wipe the dream sweat from my forehead, but of course, there is none. None of it was real, yet I feel my pussy still pulsing with arousal.
Odd, I’ve never snapped in and out of a dream so quickly. Usually there is some type of transition period. They seem to be evolving. This was more like some sort of vision and less like my usual dreams as I know them.
Or was it a memory,I wonder.But it can’t be. I barely know my new neighbor and I just met Luke. I sure as shit have never had amazing masked sex with him.
The robed figure cocks his head, catching my attention. The hood slips back enough with the movement that in the light of the stairwell, I can see the plague mask is actually a stylized raven's mask with exquisite details. The same damn one I just saw on Luke.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath.
This night is getting strange. I have two options: turn around and run or continue to follow him. The thought of trying to outrun this robed and masked figure is the scarier of the two. So, I follow him.
The only noise is my feet clattering down the stairs. The figure I’m following is as silent as the grave.What a horrible saying,I realize as I break out in goosebumps.
I can’t decide whether I should be thrilled about this adventure in my otherwise relatively safe life or be scared out of my mind in anticipation of some Hostel-like shit happening. We go down one floor and then enter another dimly lit hallway. Fluorescent lights flicker dimly, and exposed pipes line the ceiling.
Maybe following wasn’t the safer option. I feel like we are in the bowels of the expo center now, and I couldn’t find my way out alone even if I had to.Super reassuring, Lieshe, I scold myself. The cloaked man turns into another stairwell, and now I’m wondering if he is just fucking with me.
But I continue to follow him—up two flights of stairs this time—my legs burning a little with all the climbing and walking. I’m thankful for my sneakers now.
When we exit the stairwell, I catch sight of a circus tent erected within the expo center. It is like something out of a nightmare. Instead of a cheery red and white big top, it is black and white with multiple asymmetrical curling towers. It is darkly fantastical. Our strange detour has somehow landed us closer to a side entrance, well away from the crowd waiting to get in.
