THREE

––––––––

They pulled up to the front door. Denver eyed the mask suspiciously. It was black velvet, with almond-shaped eye-holes. She slipped it on and felt like a budget Catwoman. It covered her eyes, and part of her forehead. Hopefully, it would be enough to conceal her identity.

The footman opened the passenger door and bid her welcome. The house's door looked ordinary. Brown with a gold knocker shaped like a fan. She stood in the chill night air waiting for Aaron to circle round the back of the car. Her heart pounded like a fist knocking against her ribs.

Aaron held out his arm. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she replied softly.

He nodded at the footman who wore a mask as well, that they were ready to enter.

With a lavish bow, the man opened the door. Flickering golden light filtered out in a warm bid of welcome.

She expected to see half-naked waitresses in glittery full body paint, but no. A gold velour curtain blocked the immediate view. The low hum of voices and soothing music travelled from the other side.

Aaron tensed. Denver could feel him stiffen and she cast a wary eye up at him. But she didn't have time to ask what was wrong. A man, dressed similar to the men outside stepped from behind the curtain. He held both hands face up in greeting. A red slash marked each palm.

Aaron raised both hands in a similar greeting.

The footman's eyes flicked over Aaron's hands and gave Denver a subtle once-over. A plumed half-mask hid his features. The red feathers even disguised the color of the man's hair. A gold clock medallion hung from a thick rope chain around his neck. “Welcome to the Exhibition. I am the Chamberlain.” He nodded at Denver. “Madam. Sir, has the lady been briefed?”

Aaron said, “She'll be no trouble. I've made sure.”

The Chamberlain pursed plump red-tinted lips. “Very good. In case of any emergencies or personal needs, you may address me or any of my footmen. Remember to choose a safe-word for the evening.”

He pulled the curtain to one-side and the thick lips smiled. That mouth reminded Denver of an old-school baby doll.

Aaron led the way through the curtain. And on the other side was more like what Denver had been expecting.

In a large foyer about forty people mingled. The men wore black tie attire. Their women glittered in floor length clingy gowns. Only the women concealed their faces. Some sported simple fabric masks like Denver's. Other female guests chatted in elaborate face gear made of jewels, feathers, or intricate colorful beading. 

A waiter, dressed in a simple and very short toga, offered them flutes filled with something gold and bubbly.

Denver took one glass off the tray downed it and reached for a replacement. “Keep these coming, ok?”

The waiter wore a white mask that only left his mouth exposed. “There's a full bar in the Roman room. Follow me.”

“No,” Aaron forced a grin, “We're good for now.”  

The waiter bowed and Denver watched his muscular legs walk away. It was then she noticed the plinths situated around the room. On each stood an ivory statue... no, wait. They were men and women wearing only white body paint.

Denver gestured with her glass. “Now that's more of what I was expecting.”  The nearest statue was a man. He remained rock-still with one arm in the air as if hailing a cab. His body was tight but on the slim side. But as Denver's eyes travelled down his form, it became obvious why he'd booked this gig. His member was flaccid but almost impossibly thick. Its head dangled next to his upper thigh.

The other two male statues weren't as endowed but muscular. The women, three in all, had varying body types as if to please most appetites. One had exceptionally large breasts, while another flaunted a perfect hour glass shape with a round, juicy ass. The third was too far across the room for Denver to identify her quirk. 

As she watched, and if on some invisible cue, all the statues changed pose.

The first glass of champagne was settling nicely in her brain already. She turned to Aaron, “Why aren't the male guests wearing masks?”

He placed a hand on the small of her back and headed to the nearest wall. “Come with me. I want to gauge the room before we mingle.” 

When they reached a nearby corner, he faced her. “Not wearing a mask means the men are men.”  He put emphasis on the last word. “Not afraid to reveal who they are and powerful enough to handle the situation if their attendance here were exposed.”

“What do you mean by handle the situation?”

“Did you see the red marks, the slashes, across the Chamberlain's hands?” Aaron watched her nod. He said, “Those marks are a metaphor for what will happen to anyone who talks about anyone or anything that happens tonight. All the members wear the red.”

Denver glanced at his hands. “But you don't have them.”

“No,” he answered bringing the champagne flute to his lips. “I'm a trusted guest tonight, not a member.”

“So, let me get this straight,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Snitches get killed? Is that what you're saying?”

He smirked. “Don't be so dramatic. But yes, there will be blood. Either the person who talked, whoever invited them, and/or their family members. It's the price of entry. But not to worry, you'll be fine.” 

Denver turned her back on the crowd and growled up at Aaron's face. “Maddox, what the hell have you gotten me into?”

To her surprise, he reached down and gently stroked the side of her cheek. “This was necessary. Trust me.”

The slight heat from his hand felt comforting, but she locked that thought down. Instead of jerking away, she pulled his fingers away with her own. “You're always saying that, trust me. Trust has to be earned.”

“Sometimes you don't know when someone is doing something to earn that trust. It isn't always obvious.”

“You're insane, Maddox. This is what happens when you grow up in a family like yours.”  The remark was flippant, but the second after she said it, Aaron's face lips tightened into a thin, hard line.

He murmured, “You have no idea.”

Denver regarded him for another long moment. “Sorry. I'm the last person who should point fingers at the people we call family. Mine was a bunch of dirty cops.”

Aaron eyes left hers and swept over the room. “No worries. Shall we pick a safe word for tonight?”

“Why do we need one?”

He looked at her and grinned. It was the same face he'd flashed in the courthouse. And the time when he fucked her silly. He said, “How about spanky?”

“How about criminal?” Denver quipped and turned to face the room. The couple closest to them spoke in a foreign language. She couldn't tell for sure what it was nor who they were. Denver felt a small wave of relief. Not recognizing people who had the influence to kill you was likely a good thing.

“Nah, we might attract attention using that word with this crowd,” he said with a chuckle.”

She said, “Orchids.”

Aaron nodded and started to speak, but a new song issuing from hidden speakers cut him off. It had a haunting melody and a driving hard beat that Denver could feel through her heels.

The statues came to life. In time with the pulse of the music, they climbed down from their stands, and did a slow, gyrating dance towards the center of the room. They eased through the crowd, who backed away from them smiling in anticipation.

As the bass in the song grew in intensity, the three men and three women converged in the middle of the large foyer. The guests formed a loose circle around them.

The statues danced until the men formed a ring around the women. As they moved, they all kissed and caressed one another. Tongues found mouths, mouths found nipples, and hands stroked between thighs. As the crowd watched, flaccid rods came to attention.

Every statue stroked and licked and sucked until Denver thought it would just dissolve into one white-painted orgy on the floor. But no. On some hidden cue, long, streams of red silk fabric unfurled from the ceiling. 

The female statues reached up in time to catch the silks. Then with surprising strength, they scampered up like acrobats in the circus. They spun themselves about, head over heels. Once above the crowd, the women wrapped their legs in the material and did splits in the air. The white body paint concealed nothing. Pink vulvas peeked through where the makeup didn't cover. 

The male statues positioned themselves beneath their female counterparts, entwining their arms in the red spill of cloth. The women twisted their bodies into mid-air handstands as the men spun them in slow circles. Then suddenly, the females turned themselves upside down and slid down the silks. They came close to the floor but stopped just when they came level to a male's hips.

In time to the music, each woman parted ivory lips to take a male statue's penis into her mouth. Then while still suspended upside down, the women sucked on their cocks. Holding onto the red silks for support, the men rocked their hips. The woman who had the job of swallowing the colossal rod gagged repeatedly until she swapped between it and licking his balls.

Just as the men started to moan the women stopped. Two of them flipped over and climbed above the heads of the crowd. The third female statue followed, but paused at eye level. There, she did another full split with her legs suspended by the material. And Denver, who had moved closer to the action with Aaron, saw what this woman's appeal was. Though her body was on the small side with very few curves, she possessed something unique. From the folds of her labia, her clitoris protruded like a large, fat, pink, knob. 

The endowed male statue played with the massive clit. He flicked it, and her body jerked with involuntary spasms. He licked his fingers, took the nub between a thumb and forefinger, and stroked it like it was a mini-cock.

The female statue let loose little squeals of pleasure. The male played with her and every few strokes would slide a finger into her pussy. He'd pull his fingers out and shake his head, as if to say nope not wet enough, and would go back to working her over. Finally, when he did his check and pulled out two fingers drenched with her fluids, he leaned forward to take the mammoth clitoris into his mouth. He sucked and licked and then dipped his tongue into the V of her love.

The other two men came to support her legs while the other women spun arabesques and splits suggestively overhead.

The woman's moans were intoxicating to Denver. And looking around the room, she wasn't the only one affected. People licked their lips, shifted from foot to foot, and tugged at erections trapped behind zippers.

Denver whispered to Aaron. “It's like a cirque du fuck.”  But he only nodded in response too absorbed in the action.

The female statue pulled away from the male's lips. He gave her pussy a final long lap before she clambered back up the silk rope.

The other males returned to their position beneath the female statues. One of them gave a mighty leap, clasped the cloth, and climbed hand over hand towards one of the women.

The other male, stood beneath one of the swinging females as she made a slow descent to him.

The final male, the one with the goliath tool, lay down on the tiled floor. He'd grown a little soft, so he stroked himself slow and steady. His mate now hovered high above him.

Soon the engorged rod stuck up in the air like an arrow. Without warning, the woman dropped down the fabric, legs wide, headed straight for him. The crowd gasped. But just as she got a foot above him, her wild slide stopped. Then using the silk as support, she lowered herself on top of him. The audience watched mesmerized as his enormous cock disappeared inside her opening.

Up above the crowd, the male statue braced his legs and arms in the red fabric, fashioning a mid-air seat. His female counterpart sat on his lap, her legs sticking out behind his back. She gyrated her hips, as he pumped upward in small controlled strokes, his buttocks tightening with the motion. 

The third couple used the bottom loop of the fabric like a swing. The female statue lay on her stomach ass up. The male entered her from the back, pumping vigorously while gripping her hips.

The couples fucked in synch to the pulsating music. And as the beat grew faster, so did the thrusting of hard cocks in and out of slick, hungry cunts. The woman statue with the huge clit cried out as an orgasm rocked her from toes to head. But she wasn't done. She went right back to rocking back and forth on the immense shaft. The male statue spanked her swollen clitoris in time with her thrusts.

The collective pulse in the room rose until the heat was almost palpable. People licked their lips while their hands drifted to brush against a nipple, or sprouting hard-on.

Across the foyer, a man with a touch of silver at the temples exhibited no shame as he put a hand down the front of his date's gown and massaged her breast. A woman in a floor length red dress, ground her backside against the bulge in her partner's pants.

Aaron brushed up against Denver. It may have been an innocent accident, but Denver reached behind her and wrapped a palm around his zipper. She coaxed the growing boner in his trousers.

The statues were reaching a crescendo. The female riding the huge stud came again with a loud groan. Then in one smooth motion, she grabbed the silk fabric and used it to turn herself around on his penis like a corkscrew. Then she rode him reverse cow-girl style, her ass bouncing as he pounded into her.

Denver's eyes drifted to the couple in midair just in time to see the man shudder. His muscular thighs and buttocks clenched as he orgasmed. Even with the paint and odd angle, his body was beautiful.

“This is so hot,” she said under her breath. Aaron squeezed her waist in response.

The music cut off. In the prevailing silence, the hard breathing of the audience filled the room. Some people looked around as if to ask, what's happening? But the couples moved now as if in a trance. They untangled themselves from one another and from the red silk fabrics.

The woman on the floor lifted off of the huge stud. As her pussy gave his cock, a final kiss and let go, it sent him over the ultimate cliff. He body jerked once, and a stream of cum spurted out of the fat head. Quickly she dropped to her knees and his creamy load decorated her tits.

Half of the men in the room moaned.

It didn't take long for them to finish. When his orgasm eased, they stood. The other statues had gone rock-still but when the last couple joined them, they all moved in unison. With slow and deliberate movements, as if they were turning to stone again, the statues retraced their steps back through the crowd. Finally, they climbed back on top of their individual plinths and froze in place.

The crowd broke into a loud applause. Denver could feel her quickened pulse as she clapped too. 

A glint of gold caught Denver's eye. She turned to see the Chamberlain crossing to a large set of double doors. As soon as the clapping died down, he raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen. We hope you enjoyed the appetizer of our living statues. The Palladium is now open.”

Denver lifted her eyebrows at Aaron. “Appetizer? What's the Palladium?”

Aaron put a guiding hand on her lower back. “From what I've been told, it's a safe place, where almost anything goes.”

“Is this the part of the evening where you needed a woman with certain tastes?” She scanned the crowd as they all moved toward the double doors. Who were these people?

“Yes, this is the part,” he replied.

“If I see a horse or a dog, I'm out of here.”

He smiled and gave shake of his head. “From what I understand few things are off the table at these gatherings, but animals are not on the list. They only take the Greco-Roman theme so far.”  Aaron scanned the assembly of people. He frowned.

Denver noticed his expression and followed his line of sight. At first, she saw nothing amiss in the crowd of people moving through the doors. Then just a second before he passed out of view, she spotted a familiar side-profile. Ian Poole. The Maddox's rat-face family attorney.

She said, “We might have a problem.”