UNMASKED
What reviewers have said:
“Unmasked is steaming hot! The attraction sizzling on these pages is guaranteed to singe as Kate Sterling has crafted a very potent tale. The attraction between Morgan, Brianna, and Marcos has sparks flying immediately. The scenes with this charming threesome are some of the hottest this reviewer has ever read. More importantly, Kate Sterling adds an emotional depth to the story which makes Unmasked a winner!”
— Ann, CK2s Kwips and Kritiques
“The scenes within this story are sizzling! The reader will become emotionally attached to them all, wanting them all to have their love everlasting.”
— Euroreviews
UNMASKED
Kate Sterling
Copyright Ó 2007 Kate Sterling
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for you personal enjoyment only.
Editor’s Note: “Unmasked” was previously released by Aphrodite’s Apples Press as part of the anthology “Masquerade Volume III”.
Chapter One
“Make your wildest dreams come true...”
Morgan ran a trembling hand over the gilded letters of the invitation, the parchment crackling slightly beneath her fingers. The invitation to the Gods’ masquerade on Arcadia Island promised wish fulfillment for a few fortunate mortals.
“Explore your fantasies...”
There was only one fantasy she wanted to explore. It had been playing in her mind every night for the past three years, ever since she’d left Derek. It was also the reason she was currently dressed as a cross between a hooker and a raven, waiting for her signal to descend to the masquerade below.
Her fingers clenched around the parchment, itching to crumple and toss it away, just forget about the whole thing. She forced herself not to.
Derek’s handsome face rose in her mind. “Why can’t I forget you?” she whispered.
Oh, you know why, a sly little voice in her head responded. She closed her eyes as a clear image of Derek’s hard body pressing down on hers rose in memory. She gasped as a jolt of desire shot from her nipples to her clitoris, her body remembering his touch.
Oh yes, she knew why.
A sharp rap on the door brought her back to the present. She crossed the room and opened the door. The Goddess Aphrodite stood outside, impatiently tapping a foot.
“Well, have you decided? Others are waiting.”
“I... I...” Morgan stuttered, knowing Aphrodite wasn’t famous for her patience. I can’t believe I’m doing this. She took a deep breath then released it. “Yes, I have.”
“Delightful!” A bright smile quickly replaced the goddess’s frown. “This one will be easy!”
Morgan smiled, relieved. She felt more hopeful than she had in three years.
A few hours later, she was frowning at the costume Aphrodite insisted she wear as part of the wish granting. She wondered how Derek could possibly recognize her; she barely recognized herself. The black leather bustier, short red chiffon skirt, fishnet stockings and strappy black stilettos weren’t what she would have chosen, but Aphrodite was adamant. Without it, they couldn’t proceed.
But the costume wasn’t the only thing Aphrodite insisted upon—Morgan had to find Derek and convince him to come with her before midnight.
She placed the last piece of the costume—a black feathered mask—over her face, transforming her head into that of an exotic raven. Only her mouth and eyes were visible behind the mask. No one could even see her nose unless he looked up at her from underneath. She smiled then, hoping the only person who might see her from that vantage point would be Derek—naked on the bed, hard and waiting for her. Encouraged, she took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway.
She teetered slightly at the top of the sweeping staircase and prayed she wouldn’t fall in the four-inch heels. She wanted to make a grand entrance, but taking the steps face first wasn’t exactly the impression she wanted to make. She held tightly to the railing and slowly made her way down. By the time she reached the bottom step, she knew she had bigger worries than tripping. Revelers packed the ballroom, and people were spilling out from the main floor into the rest of the mansion and onto the grounds.
She gnawed at her lower lip. Damn those masquerade rules. The costumes were all so well designed she feared she might not find him before midnight. The ornate hands on the large gold clock above the door pointed to eight o’clock. Only four hours left to go. She squared her shoulders and plunged into the crowd.
Three hours and several unsuccessful attempts later, she fought back tears by the bar. She barely even had the energy left to slap away the Satyr’s hand that kept creeping toward her thigh. So far, several men had pawed her, Dionysius and Eros had each tried to seduce her, and even Artemis had made a pass at her when they danced. Morgan learned there was truth to the rumor that the goddess swung both ways.
But not once did she see anyone that she recognized as Derek. He had to be here somewhere, but where?
“Maybe I should just give up,” she muttered.
The Satyr who had been eyeing her with a mixture of hope and lust slid closer. “Oh yes, that’s a very good idea. Surrender to me and I’ll have you smiling again in no time.” He wiggled his tail.
She jerked away from the bar. “Sorry, I don’t do hooves.” She strode past him toward the woman’s bathroom.
“You don’t know what you’re missing!” he called after her.
“Oh, yes I do,” she whispered as she pushed the lavatory door open.
Inside, she removed her mask and opened the golden taps above the marble sink. She splashed a little water on her face, then came up startled as unmistakable moans of pleasure floated out of one of the stalls behind her. Sounds like at least one person’s fantasy is coming true. She smiled ruefully at herself in the mirror then laid a hand over her rapidly filling eyes. She so didn’t want to start crying.
“Here, dry your face and put your mask back on.”
Morgan blinked then backed up when a talking towel hovered in the air just before her eyes. “Um, okay.” She reached out hesitantly toward the towel, then gave a small squeak of surprise when a fairy came zooming around the other side of it.
“Oh. Thank you,” Morgan said.
“You’re welcome, but please hurry and retrieve your mask before anyone else sees you,” the fairy said, looking significantly at one of the stall doors.
She followed the fairy’s gaze, and saw two pairs of legs just visible under the bottom of the stall door. She recognized one pair of shoes as Artemis’s golden sandals. On the other pair of legs were satin pumps that slid up and down the back of the huntress’s calves, their movements punctuated by gasps of pleasure.
Morgan hastily replaced her mask and turned toward the door leading to the ballroom. She didn’t relish facing the crowd again, but neither did she want to witness Artemis’s conquest.
The clock above the door read eleven fifteen. There were forty-five minutes left. Maybe she’d still get as lucky as Artemis tonight. The thought spurred her forward, hurrying toward the door.
WHACK!
“Oh, no! Are you all right?” The voice seemed to come from miles away.
Morgan tried to focus on the speaker, but it was difficult as she lay on the floor, eyes closed in pain. She tentatively opened her eyes. She could make out something soft and pink above her. She blinked back tears and tried again.
A petite woman dressed in a pale rose ball gown hovered over her; one of her small, gloved hands lightly probing Morgan’s forehead and cheek.
“Are you all right? Can you hear me?” the woman’s voice sounded as distressed as Morgan felt. “Can you sit up?”
As the woman reached to help her stand, Morgan shook off her hand. “I’m okay,” she said, struggling to stand.
“Please, let me help you. I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have opened the door so quickly.”
Morgan got to her feet and rubbed a hand over her forehead. It was tender beneath the mask.
“I’ll go get help,” the pink confection said.
“No, I’m fine. I should have been paying more attention.” She tried to walk around the other woman. The movement brought on a wave of dizziness and she steadied herself against the sink.
“Maybe you should sit down for a minute,” the woman said, and laid her hand on Morgan’s arm, gently steering her toward a nearby chaise.
“All right. Only for a second, though. I really have to go. It’s getting late.”
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” the woman whispered. “Midnight deadline for you, too?”
“Yes, Now I...Shit!” She had tried to sit up, but the dizziness was too much. The costume, the ball, trying to find Derek, getting smacked in the head by the door, all of it was suddenly too much.
“What time is it now?” she moaned, eyes closed.
“Almost eleven-thirty.”
“I might as well give up. I’ll never find him in this crowd anyway. People in the mansion, in the gardens, even in the bathroom—” Morgan weakly waved toward the cubicle where the sounds of sex hadn’t stopped, not even during the commotion. To her horror and embarrassment, she burst into tears.
“Oh, please, don’t!” The petite lady in pink rushed to her side and put her arms around Morgan’s shoulders. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do since I caused you to lose time.”
Morgan smiled a little. The poor woman sounded so distressed and sincere. “Thanks for your offer,” she said, “but unless you have x-ray vision or a time-turner, I doubt you can help. I’ve been searching all night. I guess I’m not meant to find him.” She shrugged sadly and continued, “You know the saying, ‘be careful what you wish for?’ I think that’s my lesson for tonight. The Gods are known for their strange senses of humor.”
“What did you wish for?”
“Something stupid. Just one more chance with an old flame.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Morgan looked at the petite vision before her. The woman appeared so sweet and innocent in her pink ballerina style gown, satin mask and soft, golden brown curls, that Morgan wondered what she would think if she told her the truth. The ugly truth that the old flame she was hoping to meet had gotten married after she’d left town.
“It’s just a little complicated, that’s all,” she finally said. “What did you wish for?”
“To save my marriage.”
A shot of guilt flashed through Morgan’s stomach, along with a bit of relief. Yes, definitely a good call not to tell this unhappily married pink and gold confection that she was on the prowl for another woman’s husband. “I don’t see how your husband could possibly be unhappy with you,” she said.
A pink satin-gloved hand lay lightly on Morgan’s arm. “That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t even know me.”
“So far, I know you’re very kind, generous and beautiful.”
The woman laughed. “You can’t even see me!”
“I can see enough.”
It was true she couldn’t see the other woman’s whole face, but she had a perfectly proportioned petite figure and soft golden skin. Her eyes appeared large and liquid brown behind the mask. “If your husband finds fault with you, then he’s an idiot,” she said.
“He’s not an idiot!” A quick flash of anger heated the woman’s voice, and then disappeared as she continued sadly, “He would never even say anything was wrong, I just sense it.”
“Well, maybe your spidey senses just need a little tune-up, that’s all. I’ll bet if you—” Morgan broke off as a scream came from the double occupied stall, followed by loud banging.
The back of Artemis’s sandals stuck out from under door as she knelt on the floor. The other pair of legs were nowhere in sight, but the door was vibrating in time to the sound of shoes banging against it.
Morgan and her companion looked toward the stall then back at each other. Eyes wide, they began to giggle. As the giggles threatened to spill over into hysterical laughter, they held onto each other and hurried from the room.
Back at the bar, the duo doubled over and gasped for breath, bursting into uncontrollable laughter whenever they looked at each other.
“Oh, god,” said Morgan, finally catching her breath. “I can’t see through this mask now, the feathers are all wet!”
“Me, too!” Her companion laughed, trying to wipe her eyes through the mask with gloved fingers. She stopped and took a napkin off the bar and handed it to Morgan. “Here.”
“Thanks. I’m Mariana, by the way,” Morgan said, using her masquerade name as she quickly wiped her eyes then extended her hand. “At least, I am for tonight.”
“Brianna. For tonight also,” the other woman said, shaking Morgan’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you. I just wish the circumstances had been a bit more regular.”
Brianna sobered. “I feel terrible about that. How’s your head?”
“Minor bruise, I’m fine now. The dizziness is gone." Morgan waived a hand. “Listen, it’s probably too late for me now, but we’ve still got ten minutes. Maybe I can help you with your husband if you tell me what you think the problem is.”
Brianna looked at her for a moment. “I have another idea. Why don’t you come with me to find my husband and we’ll look for your guy along the way. Maybe we can both still succeed tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.” She took Brianna’s arm and they walked out of the bar, ignoring the stares and catcalls of some of the patrons. As more than one man called out for them to join him, Brianna stopped suddenly.
“Mariana...” she began, hesitant. “Have you... um, have you ever...”
“Have I ever what?”
“Been part of a threesome?”
Morgan coughed as saliva suddenly slid down the wrong pipe.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Brianna continued quickly, “it’s just that I’ve always heard that every man’s fantasy is to be with two women at the same time, and I’m wondering if maybe Marcos and I...”
“Marcos?”
“My husband.”
“Of course.”
“Of course we should have a threesome?”
“Huh? No, I meant ‘of course’ Marcos is your husband. Um... are you sure that’s something you want to do? Maybe you should just have a heart-to-heart with him first, before you go making any rash offers you might regret.”
“You’re right. I hope I didn’t offend you. I just thought with the way you’re dressed...” Brianna trailed off, and then began again in a rush. “I’m sorry, I just meant, well, I thought you might know more about pleasing a man than I do, and Aphrodite said I should find someone who could help me...” Brianna seemed to run out of breath then. She shrugged, looking sheepish.
Morgan stared, a little offended. “Why would you think that?"
Brianna blushed, and motioned toward Morgan’s costume. "Well, you look really hot..."
Was she kidding? "Aphrodite chooses our costumes, remember?”
“She chose your costume?” Brianna sounded surprised.
“Of course. Why does that surprise you?”
“Because she... Oh, wait! I thought I just saw Marcos go into the garden with another man! What if that’s them?”
They hurried toward the French doors leading to the grounds. A tiny bubble of hope welled in Morgan that maybe, just maybe, she’d find Derek after all.
“There he is!” Brianna pointed in the direction of two tall men—one black haired and one blond, dressed as Death and a dandy, respectively—standing near a fountain.
Morgan couldn’t breathe. Brianna was rushing toward Marcos and...Could it really be...Derek? The darker man had the right height and build, the same stance of command...
“Marcos, I want you to meet my new friend, Mariana.” Brianna’s words shook Morgan out of her stupor.
The blond dandy took her hand and bowed over it, but Morgan’s eyes were on the man dressed as Death as she spoke. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She could just make out the sparkle in the dark eyes under Death’s hood as he slowly looked her over from the top of her raven-masked head to the tip of her pointy-stiletto toes.
“There you are!” Aphrodite’s voice floated over the garden, and she appeared next to the man in black. “You must come with me, you naughty boy.”
“No! Wait!” Morgan shouted as Aphrodite took Derek’s arm and drifted away, neither of them looking back. She jerked her hand free from Marcos and rushed after them. The heel of one of her shoes sank into the moist ground near the fountain, pulling her short. She yanked her leg upward to free it and pitched headlong onto the ground, her hands skidding on the grass as she tried to break the fall.
She watched in horror as Derek and Aphrodite passed from the garden into the mansion. Their exit was followed by the deep metallic bong of a clock striking midnight.
“Please, let us help you.”
She was barely aware of a voice next to her, and four hands gently lifting her to her feet.
“Why... why would she do that?” her voice broke.
“Let’s go inside,” Brianna said softly, moving her forward.
She numbly allowed them to guide her, her legs deadened. As they neared the staircase leading to the bedrooms, she stopped. She thought she could hear Derek’s voice in the distance. She looked around quickly, still holding onto Brianna and Marcos for support, but didn’t see him. Tears welled in her eyes and it took her a moment to realize Brianna and Marcos were speaking to her.
“Where is your room?” he asked.
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. “Third floor.”
“We’re on the fourth, so we’ll walk up with you to make sure you get in safely.” Brianna looked at her husband and he nodded.
“No, no, really. I’m fine now,” Morgan said, pulling away from them. “You go on, I’ll be okay. You know how it is. Win some, lose some.”
Brianna’s suddenly defeated posture reminded her that she wasn’t the only one who may have lost tonight. She put her hand on Brianna’s arm. “But if you want to come and talk sometime before we leave, I’ll be in room 307.”
“I’ll walk with you now, anyway, if Marcos doesn’t mind.”
He stared at the two women and said nothing.
“Marcos?” Brianna prompted.
“Go ahead,” he said softly, though his posture was oddly stiff.
“Are you sure?” Brianna’s voice was uncertain, the angle of her head quizzical.
Her husband nodded, and she turned back to Morgan.
“Maybe you’d better go since it’s so late. We can talk tomorrow,” Morgan said.
“I’m going to walk you to your room first,” Brianna insisted.
“Yes, well, goodnight... Mariana, was it?” Marcos asked.
Morgan nodded and he turned to go up the stairs. He looked back once, and she placed a hand on Brianna’s arm. “Maybe you should go with him,” she said.
Brianna hesitated, then shook her head. “I won’t be long. Let’s get you tucked in.”
Morgan was still protesting that it was all unnecessary as Brianna took the key from her trembling hands and unlocked the door. The truth was, as much as she hated for anyone to take care of her, Morgan didn’t think she had the strength to walk up to her room alone.
“Oh, good, you’ve got a bar in your room, too.” Brianna said brightly, after she steered her to the bed. She briskly walked over and poured two glasses of champagne.
Morgan accepted one and Brianna sat next to her on the bed.
“Here’s to a better day tomorrow,” Brianna toasted.
Morgan gave a small laugh and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
Forty minutes and several toasts later, they were both leaning back on the bed, loudly wondering whatever possessed them to accept such a stupid invitation anyway.
“Serves me right,” Morgan hiccupped. “I had my chance years ago and I blew it.”
“What happened?”
“I got scared and ran away. He was just too perfect.”
Brianna laughed. She rolled over, leaned on one elbow, and poked a small, gloved finger at Morgan’s arm. “There’s no such thing as a perfect man.”