I bend my head and come out of the children’s playhouse. I think I’m in shock. I have never done anything like that before. But something about Brock just makes me do these crazy things. Ever since I met him, I’ve been doing all these weird things that are totally unlike me. Now, all I can think of is getting to our suite and having my turn. Letting those big hands of his spread me open and taking that massive cock deep inside me.

He appears next to me, his face flushed and his eyes glittering.

I bite my lip. “Do we look like we…did it?”

He doesn’t laugh. “Why should we? We haven’t done it yet.”

We walk quickly hand in hand through the grassy area and enter the huge room once again. The party is in full swing.

As we are about to exit the room, Charlotte calls to us, “Hey, wait up.”

Both of us stop and turn around.

She comes up to us laughing. “Where do you two think you’re escaping to?”

“I have a headache. I’m just going upstairs to lie down for a bit.” See what I mean about me doing all kinds of crazy things ever since I met Brock. I’m not a fan of liars, but that lie just tripped off my tongue.

She rearranges her face into one of empathy and pity. The fake bitch. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. You’re going to miss a great party.”

“Yeah, I guess, I will. Sorry.”

“Nevermind.” She grabs my wrist. “At least have a chocolate before you go. They’ve been specially flown in from Paris just for our engagement. I swear, it would have been cheaper to give out gold to our guests.” She smiles and holds out a box. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

The chocolates do look very fancy with an entwined C and T on them.

“Go on, take one,” she urges.

I pick one and pop it into my mouth. It’s good. Very good. The truffle center melts on my tongue.

She offers the tray to Brock.

He shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood for chocolate right now. I better get Dani back to bed. Don’t want her headache to get any worse.”

“All right then. Run along both of you. See you both tomorrow. Good night.”

I turn to Brock, surprised. “That was very civil of her.”

“Yes, I thought so too.” He presses the button on the elevator panel and turns to me. “Jesus, I can’t wait to get you back to our suite.”

With a smile, I get into the elevator. Two women come in behind us. They get off at the second floor. I smile wickedly at Brock and he slides his arm around my back. I look up into his blue, blue eyes as his head starts to descent.

At that moment, I feel an itch on my on the inside of my knee. “Hang on,” I whisper and bend to scratch it. I lift my head and the area feels hot and itchy again. For a second, I think I must have stepped on some poison Ivy or something in the garden, and then I feel an itch on my stomach and I know. Oh, shit.

“What’s the matter?” Brocks asks with a frown.

“Strawberries. I’ve eaten strawberries.”

“How?” he asks, horrified.

I don’t even have to think. “It must have been the chocolates.”

“What?”

“Charlotte must have swiped the chocolates with a piece of strawberry or something.”

Fury replaces the lust I’ve seen all evening in his eyes. “Do you have the necessary medication?” he asks urgently.

“No, I didn’t bring my antihistamines.”

“Damn that bitch,” he swears under his breath.

“It might not be her.”

“Of course, it’s her,” he says, his jaw clenched tight.

“Well, we can’t prove it anyway.”

The doors open. He lets us into our suite.

By now, I am full on scratching at my skin. He rushes to the phone and orders a doctor to come immediately, and asks him to bring an allergy kit with him.

For the next twenty minutes I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from scratching, and Brock paces the floor like a caged panther until the doctor arrives. He gives me a injection and makes me better almost immediately, but by then neither of us are in the mood.

I just feel tired and grubby and Brock is just tight-lipped with fury. I say goodnight and close my bedroom door.  

* * *

After a cool shower, I turn up the air-conditioning. Cold air always helps. My skin is full of red patches. I apply the soothing aloe vera gel to all the angry red patches on my body. By tomorrow, I know I will be fine again.

Then I go to stand at the window and look down.

The strip is so beautiful. Sparkling. I wonder how many people are down there, wagering everything they have. Or just living it up, having the time of their lives. Or getting married. So many people with their stories and the things that matter to them.

And me, watching from my window. Alone in my room. My extremely extravagant, elegant, comfortable room. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I feel like a queen up here, looking down on my subjects while wrapped in the plush bathrobe included with the suite.

How many people have worn this robe? And were they as mixed-up as I am?

There were no more dances after that first one, which is a good thing. Maybe instead of being angry with Charlotte I should be grateful. Maybe it is better this way. I drank too much alcohol and it went to my head. It’s a good thing I didn’t sleep with him.

My mind starts playing out the evening. Going back over all the crazy minutes, the looks, the little touches and caresses, what we did in the children’s playhouse. It’s almost enough to make me angry with myself.

“Cut it out,” I hiss, shaking my head.

As I stand there shivering in the cold air, one thing is clear. I’m only making things harder for myself. It’s easy for him. It’s all a sham, a game, and nothing more. Sure, he’ll have to get over Charlotte. I can’t imagine that taking much longer, especially once she’s married and he’s seen it happen with his own two eyes and that’s the end of that.

I, on the other hand, will have to nurse this lust or whatever it is for a long time. The memories of his hands on me, his cock in my mouth, will pop up at the worst moments. Like tonight, while I’m trying to sleep.

While he sleeps in his own room, nursing a heartache of his own.

For Charlotte.