The Divas Pen: Author of Sensual and Dark Romance writing as Sienna Mynx and T.A. Ford

Masquerade

Things are seldom what they seem…
Behind the masks awaits the dream…

Steve Randall is a man that is used to getting what he wants. But knowing what he needs is another matter. After a long day he ventures into a hotel bar for a drink. There he stumbles upon a Carnivale celebration and a mysterious beauty that is sure to change his night—possibly, his life.

Category: Original Fiction
Genre: Romance
Pairings: Interracial BW/WM
Warnings: Extreme Language, Strong Sexual Content
Rating: Rated R
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 5417

Disclaimer: This story, the characters, and content are solely owned by The Minx and The Divas Pen LLC. Copyright rules apply.

Steve Randall was in the mood. He strolled through the empty lobby of the hotel drawn by the faint rumble of beating drums. The Carlton wasn’t quite the establishment for such a tribal call, except for a night like tonight.

“Good evening Mr. Randall back again this year?”

“Like always,” he winked.

He didn’t stop to engage her further in conversation there was a bar ad scotch with his name on it. He rounded the waterfall and passed the golden elevators headed for the back of the hotel, noticing several others that stayed in the Carlton were doing the same. So this was where the action was?

Steve stopped before the large open veranda doors. To his left and right large white marble carved lions stood guard. Just outside the doors was a walkway with planted palms reaching beyond the arch. Dropping one hand in his pants pocket, he removed his mask—a small black bandit mask that covered just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He slipped it on, blending with the scene. Only in the Grove on a night like tonight would things be this rich and inviting.

The Miami heat sweltered despite the late hour but the ocean breeze moved over the outside tables, through the cypress garden surrounding the celebration, pushing at the large lanterns stringed above. The coolness of it was refreshing as it blew over him. His dark green eyes swept those around him from behind his mask—a requirement for the hotel guests that evening.

A calypso band tooted and beat sweet Caribbean sounds. The music was just one addition to the party which had kicked into full swing. Performing was a colorful troupe of Junk-a-nu’s in feathered neon green, yellow, orange, blue hats that stood at least three feet off their heads. Capes lined with stones left the men’s chest bare. The women wore bra tops studded in hundreds of jeweled stones—barely covered by their pleated skirts in sequined adornments. They danced in synchronization, some playing instruments and others with bodies moving faster and faster as the music picked up its tempo. Steve could feel the rhythmic beats of the tom-tom’s and tambourines going through him. A diverse group of men and women sat at tables or lingered in clusters swaying to the hypnotic performers. Then a woman with long corded dreads belted out a song.

“This beats a night with my legal briefs,” he mumbled.

He checked the time. It was just after nine and Carnivale or better known to locals as Goombay continued to spill out through the streets of Coconut Grove and through the lobbies of hotels or dance-floors of the Miami scene. For the Carlton, it’s a Masquerade celebration for hotel guest only. The Bahamian mix added flavoring. This is just what Steve wanted to round off the long day he had.

“Table?” a cocoa-browned skin beauty asked. She batted her long lashes behind a gold and silver mask, dressed as festive as the performers, skin glistened in glitter. She displayed more skin than costume, her breasts pushed up in a tempting display.

“Bar…” Steve answered. He gave a nod of his head to the left over at the bar scene. She gave him a pout and then a forgiving smile before moving on. Slipping his hands in his trouser pockets, he concentrated on the warm wind as it gently tossed the wisps of hair from his brow.

He saw her first. A vision that stopped him in his tracks. She sat at the bar on the stool with her legs crossed. They were beautiful, toned, slender legs that seemed to go on forever. Legs a man immediately put to memory. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, flawless, smooth. It didn’t end there. This temptress wore the sexiest pair of stiletto pumps legal for walking. Her foot was circled with a thin strap at the ankle. The shoe housed her slender foot with a slight curve delicately, leaving her ruby colored toes on display. She kicked her foot lightly. It caused it to sway lazily back and forth. Steve forced his eyes away. Little known secret, Steve was indeed a foot and toe man. He could always read a lot about a woman by the shoes she wore.

This woman had him intrigued.

Shapely and attractive, she sat with her back to him, her hair so dark it gives off luminance as it cascaded in layers and splayed over her shoulders. She toyed with the stem of her drink letting her hand stroke upward. Her manicured nails traced the rim of the martini glass. The action was so easy and gentle it made his mouth dry just from watching.

“Well, well, what are you going to do about it?” his inner voice mocked.

He took a step to approach her but another man made his move. Steve stopped. Instantly a pang of jealousy put a vice grip on his desire squeezing it from his heart. It was not easy to yield and wait from afar.

When the mysterious temptress shifted her position to acknowledge the guy who got there first, it allowed him a preview of her beauty. A clear look at her profile, stroked the man in him. For that he was grateful to the cock-blocking bloke. Despite the mask that covered half of her face, with an arrangement of dark silky feathers which fanned out of the top and blended with her jet-black locks. The upward tilt of her chin caused the diamond stud in her lobe to twinkle.

Mesmerized, his breath caught when her lips parted, a sweet ruby shine coating her supple pair. The corners of her mouth lifted in a sweet smile to the lucky bastard in her space. The man, however, smile soon faded. He gave her a polite nod then moved on.

Ah! So she has style and discerning taste?

Score one for the pretty lady. Steve’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. They moved down her curves once more. He was never shy. Not even now, when the rejection he witnessed called for it. No, he lived for a challenge and loved a woman that offered him one. Stepping over to the bar, he moved in smoothly to her left and took a seat. Beauty picked up her martini, undisturbed. She gave him no acknowledgement whatsoever. What will it take?

“Whut can I do for you, mon?” the bartender in a blue, yellow and lime-green Hawaiian shirt with a red, black and green hair net to the back of his head housing coiled dreads asked while wiping down the counter.

“Bulleit neat, oh and another one of those—” he nods to her drink, “—for the pretty lady.”

“No thanks,” came her quick sharp reply. The bartender gave a smirk, shrugged and moved off to fix his shot of bourbon. Strike one, he chuckled to himself. Steve lifted his head. He drew in his bottom lip, then spoke, “Reached your limit or just not thirsty for another?”

She turned toward him and he was grateful for a whiff of pretty. She smelled like vanilla and cream. With a slight tilt of her head she eyed him. He didn’t care about the mask. He could see her, eyes shaped like almonds, clear, with irises a deep brown that sparkled amber when her head moved slightly. Both were shadowed with long sweeping lashes. She had a nose fit for a Nubian princess and the sexiest pair of full-lips he’d wished for the pleasure to suck. Steve continued his appraisal. Her skin was flawless under the colorful lanterns swinging above their heads. He was close enough to admire the fit of her dress. It was black, slimming with a deep v-line bodice that offered him a heart-stopping, jaw dropping tease of her naturally perked cleavage.

“I’m not into accepting drinks from strange men, period.”

“Duly noted.” Steve moistened his lips. “My name is Steve, Steve Randall.”

She smiled. Now her smile was something he could get with, no man could turn away. She should bottle it and sell it. That smile would do wonders for the stock market.

“Duly noted, Steve. Now if you don’t mind…I’d like to finish my drink alone.”

“In fact, I do. I do mind, beautiful. See, I saw you from over there…before I got enough courage to approach. Imagine what that long walk over here did to a man,” he nodded toward the entrance. She looked back. The breeze offered another sample of her scent—soft and feminine—he savored the flavoring of something sultry and sensual he couldn’t discern. Then her eyes returned to his. “The first thing I thought to myself was: Steve, what would it take for a beautiful woman like her to share a drink with you?”

“Is that so?” she shifted a little uncomfortably. He caught the slight movement away from him. He had to tone it down a notch. This one he didn’t want to scare away.

“That’s so.” he smirked.

“Go ahead, tell me, Steve. Did you answer yourself? Or do the little people in your head answer for you?” she asked.

He laughed. Oh yes he loved her wit. Her charm. “That was right on time beautiful.”

She gave him a shy glance. The atmosphere thickened, temperature rising for them both. Surely she felt it too.

“I did, I answered. I said, no matter the price to your pride or your self esteem you’re going to walk over there, take a seat and give it your very best shot.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to her drink. He didn’t move a muscle nor did he look away. His attention remained wholly focused on her. But she didn’t speak. There were no more in-roads to take. He was not ready to give up yet.

“Here on vacation?”

“Are you?” she asked.

“I’m celebrating. The day has special meaning for me.”

She cuts him another look. There was silence. Neither of them moved, not even an eyelid.

“Really? Birthday?” she finally asked.

“Close, but no.”

“Ah, so you rather leave it mysterious?”

“No. I just don’t offer too many details of myself to a stranger. You know my name, beautiful. Can I know yours?”

She sipped her drink again. The bartender returned with his, bourbon straight with no ice. He took it down in one shot and slammed the glass back on the bar. She looked at him and smirked. He winked and nodded to the bartender for another.

Evidently the Rasta had been observing his technique. He picked up the glass then leaned on the bar and spoke to him over the calypso music, laughter, and clinking glasses. “Listen heah, brotha. Dis prettie ladie done chase ‘em all away dis evenin. It ain’t hapnen.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked. She smiled and nodded in agreement. Steve leaned in closer and she looked over at him through her mask a frown in her eyes. “Well my friend, thank you for the advice. But this here pretty lady knows what I know.”

“Which is?” the Rasta asked

Steve kept his eyes trained on her. “That she should always save the best for last.”

“Last?” she chuckled, but didn’t cast those beautiful eyes again his way.

“That’s right. After me there will be no others. Now a name, before I take somebody out there hostage and you put their lives and my freedom in jeopardy.”

The bartender moved on. She straightened her posture on the barstool, causing her breasts to lift and Steve’s eyes to drop. He quickly lifted them from her chest but each time she moved they lowered again. He hoped she didn’t notice. But the sly smirk to her sexy lips made it clear that she did. “My name is Devah.”

Steve brows lifted. The name was either a stage name or fake. But he’d play along. “Devah, huh?”

“You say that as if you don’t believe me,” she retorted, faking surprise.

“It’s an interesting name for someone as demure as you.”

“Demure, now I’ve been called a lot of things, but never demure. I like that.” She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “It’s short for Devalia.”

“Now that I do like. Suits you. Cheers, Devalia. At last we meet.”

* * * * *

He lifted his glass and she did the same. As she took a sip she found herself unable to stop staring at his soft green eyes behind his lone-ranger mask. With that deep voice and that nice tan he could tempt a nun into nudity. When he first sat down, she noticed him. It was hard not to. He was one of the finest men in the place. She normally didn’t date white men or attract them, but he was different. Why? She wasn’t sure. Dressed in black pants evidently tailored for his long legs, and a loose fitted matching linen shirt, he carried such an air of masculinity it left her flustered.

“So, Steve, we’ve met…now what?” she asked, pushing to see if there was more. Of course with men there was always more but with this one she liked the cute way he worked his charm.

He accepted the next drink and tossed it back fast and clean. He was a little rough around the edges. She noticed the diamond pinky ring and jeweled bezel TAG on his wrist plus the thin platinum chain that lay against his tanned neck. A woman picks up on all the details. It was evident there was more to him that that perfect Colgate smile.

His brilliant greens shifted back to her under the cover of the mask, he licked his lips and it forced her to do the same. The guy was definitely hot. “Let’s dance.”

She knew this move. The type of dance to the Caribbean beat beyond her would mean hands, and body rubs that should be reserved for a man that knew her better than this stranger. “I think I should sit this one out,” she said giving him a shy smile.

“C’mon, listen to that music, gal. Get ya body movin’!” he chuckled, his fake accent actually rolled off his tongue quite nicely.

She shook her head. “Right, that curvy hip-wiggling boob jiggling thing that the women are doing on the dance floor.”

He looked out at the dance floor and smiled. She noticed a dimple when he did. Her body ad resistance seemed to melt at the sight of it. He was wearing her down and he didn’t even know it. Or did he?

“Well, I can’t say that I see anything wrong with that.” He looked her over. “But we can make a rhythm all our own…your pace.”

“Is that right?”

“Definitely.”

She turned in her seat. “Okay, so if you were dancing with me…mindful that we just met…what style of dancing would you find appropriate? The waltz?”

“Funny!”

“Answer my question.”

“With you?” he stroked his chin, eyes again focused on her breasts. She didn’t mind it. If any man was to stare at her chest this evening she wanted it to be him.

“With me.”

“I’d want to try every which way with you. But if you’re shy I can ease into it slow, smooth…” He put on a stern look and dropped his voice to a serious tone, “…keep a respectful distance of course…”

“Of course…”

“Then get you warmed up and then take control.”

“Ha…sounds like the tango then?”

“Tango? Hmm….” His eyes roamed the garden that circled the outer veranda. Then they focused again on her. “Shall we find a rose?”

“Nope, I’m not a rose person.”

“What flower then?”

“Daisy…”

He moved in closer. “I like Daisies.”

She laughed. “You say that to all the girls.”

“Dance with me…” he whispered again. She ignored the shivers she felt from his breath against her ear. “One dance…please.”

“One dance, that’s all…just one.”

He sat back. “Just one.”

She sighed and rose. He reached in his pocket pulling out bills, tossing them on the bar to cover both their drinks. He didn’t wait for change. Again women noticed the slightest of things. His hand found hers and before she knew it they were headed out to the dance floor. There was a mixed bunch already gathered. The performers were mingled among the guests, serenading and dancing at different tables. The song-bird before them switched up as soon as Devah’s feet hit the linoleum squares. She began singing a Stevie Wonder tune with a reggae flavor, slow enough for him to pull her into his arms.

She melted again but this time from his hold. He was smooth that way. Her hands rested on his shoulders as she tilted her head back to see him, the mask now becoming cumbersome. Funny thing was neither of them had bothered to remove the facial intrusions. She held to him, swayed with him, brazenly pressing against his hard frame and enjoying it. Okay, this chance encounter required her to have more self control, but she had such a burn for him.

“How’s that? No booty-wiggling?”

“Perfect,” she said.

“Then you won’t mind me holding you closer,” he said in a husky tone that made her pulse race. Before she could answer his hands slid down her back stopping just at the rise of her butt. His face lowered and nuzzled her neck as he held her close.

* * * * *

Contact.

There was no gentler testing of the waters. He went for it, and she responded. He inhaled her then fought the urge to run his tongue over her sweet smelling skin. His mask was uncomfortable as it pressed against his face cutting into his cheekbones but he didn’t mind it. He feared even the slightest movement would cause her to slip away from him.

She began to work her hips against his pelvis sexily once the song picked up in tempo and his body responded instantly. She was killing him. He lifted his face and drew in a sharp breath. He felt his balls tightening just like her nipples that teasingly rubbed against his chest.

She surprised him by tilting her head back, offering her mouth. Maybe he misread her. Either way it was too late. He acted on the movement without thinking. Her body tensed all over in response. Mouths open, tongues searching, reaching, deeply taking, possessing. He kissed her and she kissed him back. Her hands lifted and her fingers threaded through his thick hair as he held his face to hers.

Someone should have warned him that it would feel so good.

* * * * *

Mask be damned. It pushed up her nose, blocked her vision as their mouths fused together. Instinctively, she clung to him. The warmth in her belly sharpened to a desperate ache. She wanted this kiss so much. A wash of heat dizzied her as she felt him swell to a very noticeable erection, stiff, protruding at the front of his pants. She tilted her hips in the dance and ground hard against it. The dance floor crowded with so much of a denizen mix of dancing couples no one noticed. But damn it, she wouldn’t care if they did.

Then he jerked back abruptly. “Stop it, beautiful. You’re killing me,” he gasped.

She smirked, fixing her mask, reaching to fix his. “See why I don’t dance with strangers,” she said, breathless. “Things can get personal um…” her eyes lowered to the erection he tried to shake off. “Quick.”

“Does that mean we’re more than that?”

She smirked, “For tonight, it’s all a masquerade. We can be whatever we want.”

He stared down at her. She stared up at him. Despite the band and flurry of movement all around them time suspended with the offer that lingered between them. She waited for his next move and held her breath, hoping that her boldness wouldn’t backfire.

“What floor you on?” he whispered, but she heard him over the blare of the music, rather she read his lips and heard it that way.

“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him away, through the crowd, into the hotel and then the elevator. As soon as the doors closed he was behind her, on her, feeling her up in her barely there dress, causing it to rise almost to her hips. Devah, pulled at the hem tugging, giggling, “Slow down, lover. We’ll be there soon,” she laughed.

“Mmmm… I want a preview. Tell me what do you do beautiful? Model?”

She turned in his arms throwing her arms around his neck. “I teach kindergarten, here in Miami on convention.”

“Wow, my kindergarten teacher was never this hot.”

She smiled. “What do you do?”

“Defense attorney, here for a convention too.”

“Ah, for gangsters?”

He laughed, “No, mostly white collar. But hey I’m always open to new things.” He squeezed her behind.

The elevator stopped, but he didn’t. She wiggled out of his hold and sashayed away. When she looked back her masked man followed. She was almost giddy with excitement. Her hand fiddled with the key card, shaking with nervous excitement. He put a hand over hers and helped her slip it in. She felt like a schoolgirl. She was so nervous. Pushing it open, they entered. She turned on the light in the bathroom and then went to the lamp near the bed.

“We don’t need it,” he said.

Looking back she found him leaning against the wall his mask off. Finally, she could see his face. She knew in that instant that he was indeed the last man standing. The prince she’d been waiting these past 32 years for. Lifting her mask she pulled it through her tangles and dropped it to the side. He stepped away from the wall.

“I’ve wanted to ask you to remove that all night.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Rules of engagement, had to get an invitation first,” he said, touching her face lightly. She almost giggled at the words. The way he spoke, teased her, it left her feeling desired.

“You are exquisite. More beautiful than I could have imagined.”

There was still a small part of her brain that insisted she had taken leave of her senses by playing these games—that she didn’t need them to answer her heart desires. But it was overruled by the dull ache that throbbed low in her pelvis and radiated outward. Every cell in her body clamored to be possessed by him.

Oh how she wanted it, as he kissed her brow, nose, and tasted her lips with his tongue. She wanted him to throw her on the bed, rip her clothes off and spread her legs far and wide. She wanted him to take her there, all the way there. She had such big hopes for the pleasures she was sure a man as sexy and confident as him would bring.

He found the zipper to her dress and eased it down, the fabric dropped off her curves to her feet. He stopped to look down at her, totally seeing what she was offering.It caused him to give another sly smirk, and lick to his kissable lips.

He reached behind her, and unfastened her bra then tossed it aside before cupping her breasts in his big warm palms.

* * * * *

Steve felt a surge of satisfaction at her muffled gasps when he trailed his lips down the smooth mounds of her breasts and stroked his tongue back and forth over one nipple then the next. He swept her in his arms, breathing heavily, and walked her over to the bed deposited her on top. Shedding his clothes he could see her in the dimly lit room, every perfect inch of her.

To think, all night long she sat on that bar stool, danced up on him, swayed those hips in front of him and she wasn’t wearing any panties. He groaned at how that excited him. The additional delay of doing away with his belt and trousers had him grunting, desperate to dwell between those thick thighs of hers.

She automatically reached above her head and gripped the rails of the headboard, parting her legs for him. She was such a sex kitten that he couldn’t take the delay any longer. His plan for an unhurried exploration of her body would have to be shelved. His reasons or expectations of this seduction suddenly seemed unimportant compared to the hunger that burned through his loins.

With a muttered oath to go for seconds and thirds later he dipped his tongue in her navel and ran it up over her taunt belly between the perfect naturally swollen pair of breasts of hers. He needed to be inside of her now. He needed to bury his shaft deep. He needed to feel her tightness and get snugly fit between. He stretched out over her to begin his passionate assault, taking her mouth once more with a deep, sensual, caress of her lips and tongue.

He ran his hands over her curves, stopping again to rub her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until her hips twisted restlessly beneath him and she groaned for his entry. He ran his hand down over her shaved mound to cup her throbbing vagina. He parted the velvet folds to find the slick wet heat that told him she was ready.

* * * * *

His fingers created a spiraling knot of tension low in her pelvis. She managed to barely breathe under his soul wrenching kisses. Reaching between them, she found him long and erect and began stroking him. He grunted against her mouth and said her name against her lips.

“Steve now, now, please…” she begged, stroking him harder, unable to wait.

He grabbed her arms and pinned them up above her head. She reached for the headboard again holding on for support against the welcomed assault. The savagery of the first thrust startled her. Her audible gasp caused him to pause. He searched her face to see if he had hurt her. She licked her lips and moved as an answer. There was no way she would let him stop now. He smiled, understanding her message. He worked his hips and gave her thrust after thrust until she had him fully. She felt her vaginal muscles close around him. He gave a hard shudder.

He pinned her left leg back to her shoulder and raised his hips to pump his ass and drill his dick deeply. She sighed, as her quaking sex went into distress and she was seized by pleasurable contractions as he opened her.

“Beautiful, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He panted stealing another kiss. Then grunting and working her over. He lifted. His chain hitting her face. It got so good to him he released her leg. She locked them around his hips and gave a secret smile of feminine triumph when the last vestiges of his control splintered. He drove himself in and out of her slippery channel with a pagan rhythm that sent them both spiraling higher and higher toward the edge of bliss.

Her last conscious thought as waves of intense climatic sensations closed over her was that this was where she was meant to be—in his arms. Her body joined with his in the most fundamental of ways.

He was still drilling her with strong hard strokes. His pace had increased, became more urgent, their bodies slick with sex, sweat, his member coated with her essence. She relished the thundering beat of his heart through his chest. He threw back his head and snatched in air to his lungs before he gave an orgasmic cry to the ceiling of how sweet it was.

She opened her eyes to see his face shadowed and mysterious in the enveloping darkness. His head lowered and his eyes fell upon her. They held each other’s stare while he rocked in and out of her. She knew he was trying to prolong the moment of release but in that exchange he surged into her one final time. He kissed her as his body became racked with his orgasmic quakes while his rigid shaft jerked hard and deep within her. A hoarse groan of ecstasy muffled against her lips as he claimed her mouth with a final searing kiss.

And he was done. She held him to her, their kiss continuing, though his erection faded and his body spasms ceased. She playfully enticed his tongue into a lazy ritual. Panting, he kissed her eyes and nose once more, then lips again before falling over to her side.

Bereft of heat from his body leaving hers, she was chilled all over. Pulling the sheets up over them, she worked on her breathing, listening to his.

“You’re incredible, Devah. I’ve never felt such an incredible hunger for a woman.”

“Mmm…” that was just the warm-up, she said sliding up against him. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her.

Morning

When Devah opened her eyes the next morning it was to the harsh light flooding the room. She squinted against it. The bright glare shocked her system. She yearned for the return of the moon filled darkness.

“Morning, sexy.”

“Is it?” she groaned. “You kept me up all night; I barely got a good two hours sleep. Close the blinds.”

“Nope, time to rise. Besides, I have to leave soon, before my wife misses me…”

She drew her arm down. “You’re married?”

“Oh, I didn’t mention that?” he replied.

“No.”

He smirked. She rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, you should have said something, I’m married too.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t mention it?”

“You didn’t ask.” She smirked back.

He shook his head. “We make some pair.”

He jumped her on the bed and she giggled, as he drew her into him. “I ordered room service,” He whispered, against her ear. She looked back at him. “Why?”

“Because you need to eat. That’s why! All those drinks last night, I counted two. What did you have, three?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. Before she gave him a quick reply, the phone next to the bed rang. She watched as he took his pinky ring off his finger and put it on correctly as his wedding ring. “That’s sneaky!” she said pointing at his hand. He chuckled and picked up a slice of bacon munching, lifting the tray to bring over to her.

She answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Mommy….” A soft voice came on.

“What is it baby?” she shot up.

“When you coming home?” her little boy asked.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked curiously.

“It’s my son. He’s upset.”

“You have a kid?”

“Two kids, a four year old and a two year old…my husband keeps me knocked up.” she said covering the phone with her hand.

“Lucky guy.” Steve said.

“Mommy will be home soon baby, I promise.”

Steve ran his hand up and down her thigh. “You’re too fine to have had babies. What’s your secret?” he asked, drawing down the sheet and burying his face between her legs. She gasped pushing his head away. “Stop! Stop!”

“Mommy! I want my daddy!”

Devah sat back in the pillows, knocking Steve’s head away. “Hold on baby.”

Steve frowned. “What is it? Something I can do?”

“He wants his daddy.”

Steve smirked, accepted the phone. “What is it, sport?” he asked lying back between her legs. She scooted beneath him so she could hold him.

“Daddy, when are you and mommy coming home?”

“Soon, we’re going to the park remember?”

“Yes. You going to bring me something?”

“Sure will. I promise. Now you be a good boy for Julia and we’ll see you soon. I promise, okay.”

“Let me talk to mommy.”

Steve passed her the phone. She gave Steve Jr. air kisses and told him she will be home soon. Then she finally reached over and hung up the phone. Her husband rolled over to his back so she could reach down to kiss him. “Happy Anniversary, baby.” she said.

“Happy Anniversary.”

“Same time and place next year?”

“You know it.”

He pulled her into his arms. She could feel his erection, time for a final session before they made the trip home. Five years ago on this very day at this very hotel, they met under the guise of the masquerade. That night she invited him back to this very hotel room where their fates were sealed. They married three months later. Steve Jr. was already in her womb. Now, every year on their anniversary they arrive, and relive that splendid moment that brought them here.

No wonder people tell you Masquerades can be so much fun.