Chapter 3

Heather

I step onto the white sands of the Caribbean beach and lose my breath. It’s exactly like a postcard, just as I’d imagine it – soft, silky sand beneath my bare feet, the gentle kiss of a breeze on my skin, and palm trees lined up against a wooden deck ahead.

A woman in a form-fitting pantsuit beckons to us, her red hair done up in a bun. Becky and I, and several other women, shuffle toward her, all giggling or talking amongst ourselves, dressed in our travel gear.

A first-class flight, a boat ride on turquoise waves, and now this – every minute has been worth it so far.

“Welcome, ladies, I trust your initiation on the boat wasn’t uncomfortable,” the admin lady says.

We all nod and smile at her because Mystique smacks of… well, of mystery, and we’re here. Nerves burble in the bottom of my belly, but they’re the happy kind.

“You’ll all be escorted to your villas, immediately, where you’ll change into the dress provided and attend your first evening party,” the admin lady continues. “Please, remember that masks must be worn at all times, even during intercourse.” She’s so matter of fact about it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world – sex will happen. “This is a safe space. If you ever feel uncomfortable, just raise your hand and you will be escorted back to your villa. That’s all.”

She claps her hands and men appear out of nowhere, dressed in white shirts and beige slacks. One of them steps in front of me wearing a smile that parts his lips over teeth as white as his button down.

“Hello, Miss Henderson,” he says. “Please, follow me to your villa.” He offers me an arm and I take it. I’m swept off through paradise, past buildings and palm trees, over sand and finally, onto a boarded walkway, over grass, past a trickling stream that leads to a pond between two villas.

He drops me off in front of the villa, a thatched roof construction with a single door and floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’ll pick you up here in five minutes, ma’am,” he says.

I hesitate, then slip inside. My bags have already been placed next to a double bed, which is decorated with rose petals and a single slinky black dress. It’s cut low in the front, set to expose so much cleavage I might as well walk into the party naked.

“What the hell,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.” I never step out of my shell and it’s past time I give it a shot.

I change quickly, check my reflection in the standing mirror beside the entrance to the bathroom, and flick my hair. I do a quick touch up on my makeup, then let out a low whistle.

I’m not usually dressed like this.

The girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me, or at least, not the ‘me’ I’m used to. Her long, tan legs scoop up into an ass that looks like twin bubbles beneath this cloying fabric, and her narrow midriff curve is accentuated by the dress. Her breasts gleam with a sheen of island sweat, peeking out from beneath the thin, silky neckline.

I square my shoulders and bury my nerves, but they pop up right away. I slip on the glittering mask, which leaves only my lips and eyes exposed, then walk to the exit and open the door.

The helper dude smiles encouragement and offers his arm again but doesn’t comment on my appearance. It kinda makes me feel good. Like I’ll fit in or like it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He gives me a quizzical look. “To the party, Miss Henderson.” He leads me down the long, wooden path, and the low hum of laughter and talk drifts on the air, alongside a rhythmic beat of music.

The sun is an orange orb, dipping toward the horizon and long shadows chase across the grass. We head down toward the beach again, and step onto the sand. I’m still barefoot, but I’m not the only one.

My assistant steps back and out of view, leaving me to mingle with the guests.

And there are so many guests.

Men in jeans and shirts or suits, all wearing masks in differing colors. Women in dresses similar to mine, with their own glittering masks. Waiters swerve between them in uniforms, carrying trays of drinks and bite-sized appetizers.

The music echoes down the beach, complemented by the gentle wash of waves on the sand. I grasp a wicker chair from a row nearby and ease myself into it, accept a flute of champagne from one of the waiters – also masked.

Mystery is in the air, and something else, too. It’s in the glances of the women, some of whom saunter over to the masked men, swaying their hips. It’s in the gentle caresses doled out by the men, sweeping fingers down backs, or resting them on necks or faces.

I swallow panic. Where the hell is Becky?

I glug back some of the alcohol and search for her in the crowd but I can’t tell who is who. The back of my neck prickles, I spin around, and meet the crystal blue gaze of a man nearby. He leans casually against the bar, and his gaze sweeps up and down my body, dancing over it.

My insides tighten and I jerk upright.

He tilts his head to one side, raises a finger, beckons.

I can’t shake my head. I can’t do anything but stare at him.

He’s taller than most of the men at the party, and he fills out his shirt. His biceps tug at his sleeves, his thighs are encased in a pair of beige slacks, and I force myself not to focus on his bulge.

He tugs fingers through wavy brown hair, which looks soft as silk by the light of the flickering torches pegged in the sand, and he won’t quit watching me.

Another tightening inside my body, but this is different. It’s hot and tingly, and oh, god, I actually want to go over to him. Am I crazy? I came all the way out here, but now… it’s so out there, so in my face, and I’m struggling to catch up.

A moan breaks the moment, and I look over at the source.

Two steps from me, a couple are wrapped around each other. The masked man holds one of the woman’s legs up, exposing her pussy to the warm dusk breeze. He runs two fingers between her lips, and she moans again.

I’m frozen. My heart races, my body responds – nipples pucker, tingling deep within my core. Oh, god, why is this so hot? It’s so hot!

The masked man inserts two fingers inside his partner and she slaps her hands down on his shoulders, clings to him, and lets out a feral growl this time.

Heat creeps up my neck, accompanied by the acute awareness that masked blue-eyes watches me, still.

The couple topple to the sand. He rips down the slope of her neckline and suckles on her right breast, still working his fingers deep inside her. His dick is already out, glistening with pre-cum. She fumbles for it, grasps it between her thighs, and starts stroking his shaft. The man’s breath hitches.

It’s all too much for me. Wetness drips between my thighs. I feel the need to stay and watch, even though it’s not like anything I’ve witnessed before. What if someone grabs me just like he grabbed her? Am I about to have public sex with a stranger for my first time?

I hesitate, spare one glance for the masked man by the bar, and then I run for the palm trees, away from the noises of sex and toward the crash of waves.