Chapter One
The blaring sound of techno-pop thundered through the speaker system of the hotel conference room. The DJ spun tracks from a small corner, but no one really danced except for a handful of partygoers encouraged by booze and bravado. That would change as the night went on. Dante Divine stood at the back of the room, closest to the three sets of entrance doors. Snacks lined a set of fabric tablecloths, but all around the room, sofas, loveseats, and sectional furniture had been situated for more intimate encounters later. Most of the room’s light came from the whirling light show and strategically placed nightlights. Alcohol and laughter permeated the air, made it feel alive and animated. The collective nervousness left, and the hum of conversations rose as an undercurrent to the music. Dante stood back to observe her work as another freak party commenced. Positioned like elegant vases on pedestals, big fishbowls filled with multicolored condoms waited. Her security detail—dressed incognito—roamed through the room, watching the guests closely. Tomfoolery had no place here. Sure, people signed a waiver that reiterated no meant no , but that didn’t stop some of them from lying or acting on their baser instincts.
“Y’all look divine in here tonight!” the DJ shouted into his microphone.
A wave of cheers whirled in response.
Dante smiled, but it melted just as quickly as it had arrived. Nowadays she had to work hard for the fake wattage.
Years ago, she would’ve been one of them—actively walking around in her black lace teddy and six-inch stilettos, surveying the clients, looking for someone to become her own nightly entertainment. Well not just her own, but someone to play with her and her lover, Marcus. Marcus. A pang in her heart banged before she closed it up again. She’d kept the stilettos but dropped the lingerie and Marcus. For her, the costumes, the theatrics, and the drama of freak parties had diminished. None of the pleasure lasted. After thousands of parties like this one, Dante’s desire had been hollowed out, worn down by the sheer monotony of it.
She sighed and sipped some champagne from her gold leaf-rimmed flute. How could something so beautiful and emotional become so mundane and apathetic? She hungered for more—something that mattered. This was a Divine party, which meant everyone had to wear white, blond, cream, or royal purple. Rocking a cream V-neck blouse and ivory dress pants, she still managed to collect invitations from people to join them back in their rooms.
“Even fully clothed, you ooze sexuality.” Kenshin Sato offered his unique type of invitation. His warm tenor was like silk across her neck.
Suppressing a sigh at the feel of his voice, Dante swallowed her more immediate reply. “Ooze? Like a rotting sore?”
“No. Like it’s so tangible and thick, a seductive honey everyone wants to taste, to savor…” He purred this last into her ear, instantly making her hot.
Closing her eyes to stave off the flash of desire, Dante took a deep breath, adjusted her weight to her other leg, and tried to resist him. Kenshin was a flirtatious client, a regular at both her Inferno and Divine parties. Tonight, he wore an ivory mask à la Phantom of the Opera . It covered all but his pink lips, but she knew his voice too well. His dark hair fell like a curtain around his face.
“There are over a hundred people in here—all ready to get their freak on. But I am not one of them.” She gestured to the crowd of people congregating around sofas, food, and television. Already some pairings had taken place. Kissing, touching, and all-out foreplay erupted between couples and sometimes groups. She paused and listened. Already the soft moans and gentle noises of people shifting into various stages of engaging their lusts sounded in her ears.
She opened her eyes in time to see the frown on Kenshin’s face. Almost immediately, it was gone. The playful, jolly persona he sported at
The blaring sound of techno-pop thundered through the speaker system of the hotel conference room. The DJ spun tracks from a small corner, but no one really danced except for a handful of partygoers encouraged by booze and bravado. That would change as the night went on. Dante Divine stood at the back of the room, closest to the three sets of entrance doors. Snacks lined a set of fabric tablecloths, but all around the room, sofas, loveseats, and sectional furniture had been situated for more intimate encounters later. Most of the room’s light came from the whirling light show and strategically placed nightlights. Alcohol and laughter permeated the air, made it feel alive and animated. The collective nervousness left, and the hum of conversations rose as an undercurrent to the music. Dante stood back to observe her work as another freak party commenced. Positioned like elegant vases on pedestals, big fishbowls filled with multicolored condoms waited. Her security detail—dressed incognito—roamed through the room, watching the guests closely. Tomfoolery had no place here. Sure, people signed a waiver that reiterated no meant no , but that didn’t stop some of them from lying or acting on their baser instincts.
“Y’all look divine in here tonight!” the DJ shouted into his microphone.
A wave of cheers whirled in response.
Dante smiled, but it melted just as quickly as it had arrived. Nowadays she had to work hard for the fake wattage.
Years ago, she would’ve been one of them—actively walking around in her black lace teddy and six-inch stilettos, surveying the clients, looking for someone to become her own nightly entertainment. Well not just her own, but someone to play with her and her lover, Marcus. Marcus. A pang in her heart banged before she closed it up again. She’d kept the stilettos but dropped the lingerie and Marcus. For her, the costumes, the theatrics, and the drama of freak parties had diminished. None of the pleasure lasted. After thousands of parties like this one, Dante’s desire had been hollowed out, worn down by the sheer monotony of it.
She sighed and sipped some champagne from her gold leaf-rimmed flute. How could something so beautiful and emotional become so mundane and apathetic? She hungered for more—something that mattered. This was a Divine party, which meant everyone had to wear white, blond, cream, or royal purple. Rocking a cream V-neck blouse and ivory dress pants, she still managed to collect invitations from people to join them back in their rooms.
“Even fully clothed, you ooze sexuality.” Kenshin Sato offered his unique type of invitation. His warm tenor was like silk across her neck.
Suppressing a sigh at the feel of his voice, Dante swallowed her more immediate reply. “Ooze? Like a rotting sore?”
“No. Like it’s so tangible and thick, a seductive honey everyone wants to taste, to savor…” He purred this last into her ear, instantly making her hot.
Closing her eyes to stave off the flash of desire, Dante took a deep breath, adjusted her weight to her other leg, and tried to resist him. Kenshin was a flirtatious client, a regular at both her Inferno and Divine parties. Tonight, he wore an ivory mask à la Phantom of the Opera . It covered all but his pink lips, but she knew his voice too well. His dark hair fell like a curtain around his face.
“There are over a hundred people in here—all ready to get their freak on. But I am not one of them.” She gestured to the crowd of people congregating around sofas, food, and television. Already some pairings had taken place. Kissing, touching, and all-out foreplay erupted between couples and sometimes groups. She paused and listened. Already the soft moans and gentle noises of people shifting into various stages of engaging their lusts sounded in her ears.
She opened her eyes in time to see the frown on Kenshin’s face. Almost immediately, it was gone. The playful, jolly persona he sported at
Similar Books
