Chapter Twelve

Rose

The massive beach house—a beach mansion, really—glimmers through the window at me. I can’t believe I’m here, and now I’m going to this… wild orgy of the elites. Fake snow flurries around the roof, and the valets wear elf ears. Large, decorative boxes of Christmas presents scatter at the base of the estate. And guests pour along the beach toward the venue.

I smooth out my translucent white shift. I wear a bra and panties with it but they’re the only things keeping my privates from being totally visible. This dress is a joke, as sheer as panty hose.

“You look amazing,” Stuart purrs against my ear. One of his hands scoops around to my midsection while the other braces my hip, fitting me neatly against his groin. Ooh la la. Someone’s already packing heat.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I think I love that rock on your finger most of all.”

I smile bashfully up at Stuart, who is naturally stunning in his pure black suit and silver filigreed mask. The pure blackness and the hints of silver in his hair only make the combination more stunning. I’d believe that he stepped out of a high fashion ad if I didn’t know any better. Maybe Gucci makes Halloween costumes. You never know.

“Are you ready to do this?” he asks, and I feel the weight of my white porcelain mask slip over my face. It only fits over my eyes and the bridge of my nose, and the delicate glass is embellished with hints of baby blue spirals and sprigs. In that moment, catching my own reflection in the window pane, I lose my breath.

I do look amazing. A strange rush passes through my body.

I’ve never been the type of girl to show herself off. In spite of my tight figure, with the long trunk and the high breasts and trim, muscular legs, I like to wear layers. I was just born this way. That doesn’t mean I want to parade around in gowns that are practically made of tissue.

Except here I am.

My heart pounds faster at the prospect. I swallow, and my nipples gather beneath the material of my gown, puckering at the fabric.

“I’m ready,” I breathe. And this little part of me wants everyone there to take a good long look at this tight little ass.

I want Stuart to show me off, and for everyone to agree that he must be a total stallion to be with a girl like me.

The party doesn't appear to be too intimidating from the outside, though I can definitely hear the sounds of sexual pleasure emanating from within the walls. Even outside, if you look closely, you'll notice an errant high heel that someone lost as they scrambled to undress. You'll catch two shadows humping in the distance.

Stuart laces his fingers through mine and holds them tight, drawing my hand up to his mouth and kissing it firmly.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he reminds me. "So, try to relax and have a good time."

"I am having a good time," I reassure him, only hesitating for a split second when we reach the marble stairwell that will lead us into the mansion.

Fake snow crusts the steps, though it isn't cold, of course. It's still majestic and almost makes me feel like I'm not at an orgy, like I'm at a charity event back in New York instead. I cross the threshold and march up the steps, not letting myself think too much about the future. I can do this. I'm a big girl. Stuart is right here if I need anything.

There's a woman pressed up against a window, and some guy has his face buried in her ass. They're both wearing masks that are askew, and I recognize the man as the owner of a major tech company from LA. I saw him in Time magazine last month. And the perky ass cheeks he's so intently devouring belong to a supermodel. I don't know her name but I know her face.

"Oh, Daddy," she whimpers against the glass, her fingernails clawing.

I keep walking, I haven't even entered the foyer of the building yet but I can't. I'm frozen to the spot... and a flush is creeping its way down my body from my core. It rushes over my legs and tingles up into my face, into my fingertips. I’m hot and wet.

"Do you like that?" Stuart asks me, and I suck in my lower lip, blinking up at him. I would feel like a freak if I said yes.

"Of course not," I say, shaking my head and forcing my feet to move. "I don't want to... eavesdrop on anyone else's…"

I cross into the threshold and my mouth drops. The words leave me. I can't even fathom the debauchery of this scene.

There's a fake snowdrift piled into one wall, and I can hear moaning and see gyrating bodies but it's nearly impossible to tell who is who, to even tell how many people are rolling around in there. On the stairwell is a man dressed in the red velvet suit of Santa Claus, and he's hungrily eating out a woman in a mask and plain white dress identical to mine. In fact, she and I look a lot alike in general, and the wetness between my legs is growing. A man saunters over to the couple and tugs down the woman's top, sucking on her nipples. I wonder if she's going to come soon. She looks like she might.

"Mm, you do like that," Stuart murmurs, one of his arms snaking around my torso. His hand drifts innocently, tenderly, over my crotch, pressing into the thin fabric and finding it soaked with my juices. "I knew it. I could smell your sweet pussy."

"I didn't think I would like it," I confess in a whisper. "But maybe I do a little bit. With you here it doesn't seem so wrong or crazy."

"Wanna test it?" Stuart invites, and his fingers bow, dipping artfully between my thighs and hooking up to part my lips.

I gasp, startled at his deft awareness of my body, but it's already too late. His middle finger skims my engorged clit through the fabric of my white panties and my knees buckle.

Once he touches my clit, it's over. My brain scrambles and falls out and he can do whatever he wants to me then.

"What is testing it?"

He grinds his hand subtly into the crotch of my gown, working through two layers of fabric to stimulate me. But he won't stop. His breath catches against my earlobe and I feel his tongue, then his teeth.

His dick pulses between my ass cheeks as he rubs me. Some strangers in masks take interest in the scene, even though we are without a doubt the most clothed and conventional of the sexually active groups in the room.

"Let's see how far you can go," Stuart hisses, hitching up my skirt in a sudden movement and jamming his whole hand directly into my panties. The watchers take much more interest now that they can see my thighs and all the way up to my panties, can even see Stuart's knuckles bobbing up and down against the material.

I shudder and curl around him as he fondles me, his teeth still grazing my earlobe while his hand works.

One of the two men on the staircase—the one eating the woman out, who is dressed like Santa Claus, beard and all—rears back and grasps the bottom of the woman's dress, tearing it off. Now she's exposed, pussy on display. The Santa Claus dives against her hot cunt again, going harder now, and I watch her face. She’s close.

The other man leans back and unzips, a large erection bouncing out. He slides it between the woman's lips and she leans up to take it, like she’s hungry for it.

"Oh, yeah," Stuart groans. My thighs shake, and now there are other people watching me and Stuart.

We've become one of those animalistic couples, going at it right in front of everyone. But I can't stop. I want Stuart to make me come, and I want to watch that threesome on the stairs. I want these strangers watching to see me come, too.

The woman on the stairs cries out around that cock and gushes all over Santa Claus, which sets off her blowjob partner. He blows in time with her and it's too much, all of us building together like this. Stuart hammers my clit mercilessly and my pussy convulses, losing control. I go limp in his arms and come all over his hand, eyes rolling back in my head as the room watches.