My fingers twist against the smooth strings of the silver masquerade mask in my hand. I thought
about not coming so many times tonight. Not because I’m a prude or anything; honestly, I’m far
from it. But the idea of actually going to a sex club seemed... inte nse. Intimidating maybe?
Normally, I like my encounters to be of the drunken and never see you again variety. I guess this
place has the same allure since the club’s theme is masquerade. Everyone is required to wear a
mask, whether to provide anonymity or just amp up the kink factor. It provides a sort of sense
of comfort, though. I’d probably be scrolling on my hook - up app tonight or at the bar just down
the street from the university if it wasn’t my best friend’s birthday. Usually, twenty - first birthday
p arties are spent doing pub crawls, going to dance clubs or raves, but oh no, not my best friend.
Cassi decided that she wanted her and her closest friends to celebrate her milestone birthday
getting railed in a club together. I mean, when you put it like t hat, I guess it doesn’t sound
terrible. I can’t believe we even found this place. It doesn’t even have a name. Literally. There’s
no sign outside, no name when you look up the address, and their website is extremely vague,
promising only anonymity and a ni ght you’ll never forget. A senior Cassi was hooking up with
handed her this black card when she was talking about her birthday plans a few days ago. It only
had an address on it, but he swore we would love it. Let’s hope he’s right, I guess. So, we all
ren ted a hotel room to share in case the place was weird, and if we didn’t feel comfortable, we
could head back to the room and eat the
whole minibar. To be honest, this night seems to only be capable of good times. Still, I can’t help
but feel a rush of butterflies as we walk up to the nondescript door before Cassi excitedly
knocks. She plays with the gold mask in her hand as I glance to see our friend Naomi doing the
same with her red one. She looks excited too, but she has a flicker of hesitancy as well. She’s
always been the meek one of our group. She’s also a virgin, so the fact that she agreed to come
tonight shocked me. An imposing m an opens the door, giving our group a once over before
staring at us expectantly. “Gratify,” Cassi says, a smile full of mirth playing on her full lips as she
pushes her red hair to the side, a complete contrast to my near pitch - black hair or Naomi’s
brigh t blonde. Where Cassi is every bit the spunky redhead with the perfect number of freckles
dusting her cheeks, I’m her polar opposite. My sleek black hair, blue eyes, and resting bitch face
typically earns me the group’s resident bitch title. I’m okay with it, though. After all, I got it from
my mother, apart from the eyes, and at forty - five she looks better than most twenty - one year
olds I know. Men certainly think so, at least. The bouncer looks to Cassi, giving her an approving
nod before taking our ID’s. After he hands them back, he gestures to our masks before st epping
aside. “Masks on, ladies, and welcome to paradise.” We lace up our masks before I run a hand
down my black cocktail dress. I stared at my closet for a solid forty - five minutes before decid ing
there was literally no right or wrong thing to wear to a sex club, they don’t exactly have a dress
code stamped on a website anywhere. So, I figured the classic LBD would be perfect. I might
have made an
oversight in the shoe d epartment. My heels are so tall, I’m ready to snap an ankle at any given
moment. Hopefully, I won’t be vertical for much of the night anyways. The doorman guides us
down the dark hallway behind him, the barest glow of light leading u s de eper into the club. Just
as I almost roll my ankle for the third time, the darkness gives way, revealing something akin to
a seductive, d epraved wonderland. There is a large bar pushed to the back wall as soon as you
walk in. Lights flash and dance fro m the ceiling, dozens of chandeliers scattered
around the room, amping up the elegance of the place. At the bar, I see several people
in... unique attire, chatting to the person beside them, grabbing a drink, or passionately making
out. In the center of the room, a lounge area is filled with various couch es and loveseats, people
enthusiastically taking up every inch of them. My eyes snag on a gorgeous blonde who is
between an older man’s legs, sucking his cock like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. Another
woman is sitting completely naked on a man’s lap reverse cowgirl style, her tits bouncing with
each thrust he gives her. Now, I identify as straight, but if you can look at a great pair of tits on a
beautiful woman and not get a little turned on, then I’d straight up call you a liar. “Fuck,” Naomi
mu tters in a husky voice. “I told you guys, right?!” Cassi squeals excitedly. “I wonder where the
bondage demonstrations are.” Her eyes flit around the place before she scurries off to explore.
Naomi follows after her, a confident little sway in her hips. Go od. She deserves a little fun, even
if she says she won’t be losing her v - card tonight. Instead of following them, I decide that I
definitely need a drink first. I don’t even know where to begin in a place like this. There are no
rules, no expectations. I guess you just find the first decently attractive person and whip their
cock out? Yeah, I’m going to need to sit back and observe for a minute. When I get to the bar
top, a gorgeous blue - eyed, blond haired bartender smiles at me. “What can I get you,
sweet heart?” “Tequila, please. Better make it a double.” “Same for me,” a de ep voice rumbles
from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see a large man standing only a few feet away from
me. His shoulders are wide, arms corded with huge muscles, and hair a de ep chestnut brown.
He’s wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms in that sexy way that all
good looking men seem to do. His black mask takes up most of his face, but I can see the shape
of his Roman godlike nose, a trim beard and f ull pink lips. I also can see those eyes, de ep set and
dark. They’re so intense, so focused, and trained directly on me. College guys don’t look at you
like this, fuck, college guys don’t look like this.
My breath stalls in my chest and my mouth dries up at the sight of him. Or maybe it’s because
of the way he’s staring at me. Either way, even if I can only see a third of his face, I already know
without a doubt he is one of the best looking men I’ve seen in my life. I can tell by the way he
carries himself that he’s gotta be older. Later thirties at the minimum. Right now, ask me if I
care. Interrupting our mutual eye fucking, the bartender sets down two glasses in front of us.
“Put it on your tab, sir?” the bartender asks the masked man. He dips his head, not removing
his eyes from my own as he reaches for our glasses, handing mine ove r before clinking them
together. I try to say thanks but come up short on words, mainly because I’m not sure I
remember how to speak. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I watch as he lifts the glass to his lips, his eyes
hooded as he tips back the clear liquid. My eyes are laser focused on the way his throat works
the tequila down. Shit. Can a man taking a drink really soak my panties just like that? You’d think
it’s been years since I’ve last had sex, not days. This is different, though. So different. This isn’t
some fr at boy trying to buy me cheap beer in the hopes of getting
laid. This isn’t even a nice respectable guy that I meet at a coffee shop and then fuck in his car
before I go to class. This place, this man, the energy. Everything is heightened. The sexual
tension from this entire atmosphere is so thick you can choke on it, while simultaneously
craving more. When his eyes come back to me and he sets his drink down on the bar top, I
remember that I’m still holding my drink, staring at him like an idiot. So, I lift the cool glass to
my lips, allowing the sharp burn of the tequila to prick my taste buds before running down my
throat. The warmth I feel is immediate, and when I tilt my head forward again, I find the
mystery man in front of me staring at me with the same amount of intensity as before. Setting
the glass on the b ar top beside his, he reaches out his hand to me. It’s a large hand, though it
looks smooth and strong. Like he doesn’t have to use them for physical labor, but he could do
some serious damage with them if he wanted. Or deliver a dizzying amount of pleasur e. My
hand slides into his before I even fully decide that I want to go wherever he is taking me. It’s like
I’m not even in control of myself as his fingers lace through mine, gently guiding me through the
club.