Masked Desires (4 page)

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Eddie agreed, adding a flourishing signature to his cheque, before tearing it out of the book and handing it to Heather. ‘Summer’s in advertising, works on the
Reporter
. A real hot prospect.’

Seemed two could bend the truth just as easily as one. Heather just sniffed, still clearly unimpressed. ‘So, I’ll see you at the Mallory. Seven for seven-thirty on Saturday.’ She stashed the cheque in one of the inner pockets of her purse.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, would we, honey?’ Eddie pulled me close again, pressing a kiss to my lips. For a moment, I was almost too stunned to react, then I relaxed against him, revelling in the solid bulk of his body and his musky male smell, even as my mind fought to process the bizarre situation. I opened my mouth, feeling his tongue slip between my lips as the kiss deepened more than it might have had a right to. Then I broke away, flustered, hoping neither Eddie nor Heather could see the flush that had risen to my cheeks.

‘Well, I’ll see you Saturday, then.’ The words “don’t let me down” seemed to hang, unspoken, in the air between the three of us as Heather turned on her spike heel and strode out to her husband in the waiting car.

When she’d gone, Eddie smiled at me. ‘Thanks for covering my ass, Summer.’

‘No problem, but what exactly happened there? I kind of get the impression I’ve been invited to some swanky charity do, but …’ I didn’t mention the kiss. I thought it safer not to.

‘I’m sorry, I wish there was some kind of way I could have warned you, but I just didn’t expect Heather to turn up out of the blue like that. I mean, you could probably tell we’re not exactly close.’

‘Close enough that if she tells you to jump, you jump.’ I regretted the meanness of the words the second they’d left my mouth. Eddie simply acknowledged the barb.

‘My dad died when I was 11, and my mom remarried about 18 months later. That’s a difficult age to suddenly be landed with an older sister who you have absolutely nothing in common with. Someone who you know even then is way more driven and ambitious than you’re ever going to be.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘But you do have a point. I try to keep Heather sweet because it’s simplest all round. And I had promised ages ago that I’d go to this Masquerade Ball of hers; it just slipped my mind, what with having a barmaid up and quit on me and having to find a replacement, among other things.’

‘So why did you tell her I was your girlfriend?’

‘Ah, that.’ He leant back against the bar, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture. ‘Well, Heather thinks I’m a loser for any number of reasons, chief of which is that I’ve never been able to hang on to a woman for any length of time. And the ones I do get involved with, she and my mom have never liked. They’re always asking me when I’m going to meet a decent girl, not someone “fast and trashy”, as my mom puts it. So – well, I kind of lied and told them I had. Luckily, I didn’t go quite so far as to invent a name, or anything crazy like that. Truth is I’ve been single for the best part of a year now. So, rather than admit that when Heather confronted me just now, I – improvised. I hope you don’t mind.’

Mind? If that kiss had been improvisation, he could do it again any time he liked. ‘Not at all. But won’t Heather be mad when she finds out she’s been lied to?’

‘Who says she’s going to find out? Look, all I’m asking is for you to play the part of my girlfriend for the night. We’ll turn up at the ball, and have a nice evening together. The next time she asks about you, I’ll tell her that unfortunately it just didn’t work out between the two of us.’

If I thought about the plan long enough, I was certain I’d find a flaw in it, but right now, I was still too busy digesting the information that I’d be going to the Masquerade Ball as Eddie Quinn’s girlfriend.

When he said goodnight to me, I thought, just for a second, that he might kiss me again. But he didn’t. Instead, like he did every night, he watched me walk away, till I rounded the corner of Hudson Street and we were lost to each other’s view.

*              *               *

I lay awake for a long while that night, playing back the scene between Eddie, Heather, and me in my head. Eddie could have found some way of not going to the ball – hell, he could have simply made a contribution to whatever charity the event supported, but I suspected his sister would never let him off the hook that easily. Did she want the opportunity of judging his latest girlfriend, in the same way he claimed she’d judged all the rest and found them wanting? If so, what had I let myself in for – and, more importantly, where was I going to find an outfit suitable for a masquerade ball with only two days’ notice?

Try as I might, though, I couldn’t stop my thoughts drifting back to the moment when Eddie had planted that so unexpected kiss on my lips. I remembered the feel of his mouth, soft against my own, and the tickling of his beard against my cheeks. He only ever drank soft drinks while he was on duty behind the bar, and the kiss had carried the faint taste of cola, sweet and seductive. It might have been a performance for Heather’s benefit, but I couldn’t help thinking that he’d enjoyed kissing me more than he’d expected to; the way the pressure of his mouth had increased, and his hands had clutched at my back, pulling me on to his groin for the briefest instant, gave his enthusiasm away. If Heather hadn’t been there, watching, what might have happened?

I pictured our clinch again. This time, we were alone in the darkened bar room, the jukebox switched off and silent, nothing to disturb our private moment. Our mouths locked together, tongues clashing as we kissed each other with a hunger that had been building since the moment I’d first walked through the door of the bar. He grabbed me by the hips, holding me tight to his crotch so I could feel the heft of his cock, straining to be free of his jeans. My passion stoked higher, I kissed him with sharp little pecks that were more like bites, sucking at the exposed, tanned skin of his neck above his T-shirt collar. He fumbled with my skirt, hitching it up almost to the tops of my thighs. With no pantyhose to impede his progress, it was easy for him to slip a finger under the lace of my panties and discover I was already wet. Too excited to hold back, he made to liberate his cock from the confines of his pants and press it to my waiting pussy.

Bringing myself back to the moment, I threw off the bedcovers, and reached for my vibrator, buried in the drawer of my nightstand. Powerful but whisper quiet, I’d bought it with one eye on not alerting the neighbours to my night-time self-pleasuring, though Tyler’s antics with the blonde on the fire escape made me wonder how much the neighbours might actually care if they heard the buzzing of a sex toy coming through the walls.

I flicked on the switch, pressed the domed head of the vibrator to my sticky-wet pussy, and picked up the fantasy where I’d left it. Eddie had freed his erection from his jeans. It poked toward me insistently, juice beading on its tip. He rucked up my uniform T-shirt, and pulled my breasts free of my bra. His eagerness and overwhelming need for me excited me so much I couldn’t stand it any longer. When I eased aside the crotch of my panties and pushed the head of his cock into my juicy hole, it slid in easily.

He was strong enough to support me with his weight while I wrapped my legs around his waist. He staggered back until I was half-sitting on the top of the bar counter, and started to thrust deeply into me. Every stroke slammed me back a little way on the polished wood, driving the breath from me. I clung on to him like a drowning woman, nails leaving pale half-moons in the flesh of his shoulders as we groaned and panted and shuddered together. His pubic bone ground against my clit, the short hairs around his balls rasping against the fabric of my panties, and he was nuzzling the hard points of my nipples, his face buried in my exposed cleavage.

In the fantasy, my inner muscles clamped down hard on Eddie’s embedded length. In reality, it was the rigid silicone length of the vibrator that filled me as my orgasm bloomed deep inside me and I cried out Eddie’s name, not caring if anyone heard me.

I felt sweat sticking my pyjama top to my back as I slowly came back to awareness of my surroundings. Switching off the vibrator, I let it drop to the floor.

So much heat generated from just a kiss – in my fantasy, at least. Playing Eddie’s girlfriend was going to be fun, but I had to keep my feet on the ground. All he wanted was a one-night deal, convincing enough to fool his stepsister. Anything else had to remain purely in the realms of my imagination.

Chapter Four

Friday morning found me ready to hunt on the rails of every thrift store in the Village, looking for a dress suitable for a masquerade ball. I couldn’t afford to buy a new outfit, not when I knew I’d be unlikely to ever wear it again. Luckily, Heather hadn’t specified a theme – if I’d needed to dress as a Southern Belle or Venetian lady, it would have meant an expensive trip to a costume hire shop. Men got it easy with these events; pretty much all they needed to do was throw on a tuxedo and a mask and they were good to go.

At least, living in an area with a high student population you were always guaranteed to find a few second-hand prom dresses for sale. In the third store I tried, I found just the thing. Strapless and made of wine-red satin, overlaid with a sheath of fine black lace, it came to just above my knees. I’d gained the impression Eddie was something of a leg man, and I intended to team the dress with sheer black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black lace pumps that lurked in the depths of my closet. When I tried it on, it was a little tight, but not uncomfortably so; as long as I didn’t cut any extravagant moves on the dance floor, I figured the seams would hold. I couldn’t help remembering the words Eddie said his mom used when talking about his previous girlfriends: “fast and trashy”. I needed to give the impression of being sweet and sophisticated, however much it would have made Delia laugh to hear me described that way.

My mask came from a little store on West 4th Street that sold cheap party goods; plain gold, I could add sparkle to it by gluing on some glitter and a handful of little crystals. Hopefully, no one would realise I hadn’t spent the $40 a similar mask would cost me from a high-end costume store.

Almost ridiculously pleased with my purchases, I treated myself to a Monte Cristo sandwich and a skinny latte in a little café, taking the opportunity to sit and watch the world go by. No matter how long I lived in Greenwich Village, I’d thought I’d never get tired of the passing parade: fashionistas chattering on their cell phones as they took their little dogs for a walk, the animal so small they could easily fit it in their oversized purse; musicians clutching guitar cases as they headed to rehearsals, or the gig they were sure would help them land that elusive record deal; students, laughing and arguing and carrying themselves with all the confidence of someone who thinks the world can one day belong to them.

Every time I considered how lucky I was to have an affordable apartment in such a desirable area, I had to pinch myself. The landlord was an old friend of my grandmother’s, and when I’d been looking for somewhere to live in my college days, she used her not inconsiderable charm on him to persuade him to let the place out to me at well below the market rate. Recently, though, he seemed to have taken notice of how much real estate had become worth around here, and was talking about selling up, and moving to some retirement complex in Florida. A new landlord would set about fixing the plumbing and giving the building the renovation it so badly needed, pushing the rent way beyond my means when the work was finished. But I’d worry about that when it happened. For now, my focus remained on making sure I didn’t let Eddie down at the ball.

By the time Saturday evening came round, I was a mess of nerves. Eddie had told me he’d call round to collect me at around 6.45, so we could take a cab up to Central Park West and the Mallory Hotel together. I hadn’t been able to share the fact we were going to the Masquerade Ball with anyone. I’d rung Delia for a girly conversation, only for her to tell me she was at her mom’s home for a family celebration, and she’d talk to me when she got back, and somehow it didn’t seem fair to mention it to Penny, who was working the Friday night shift alongside me. She’d been an employee of Eddie’s for far longer than me; by rights, she ought to be the one accompanying him to the ball. Though maybe her boyfriend, who was one of the leading lights of the NYU track team, might have something to say if she did.

For once, the water heater was behaving itself, and I’d taken a long, hot bath, exfoliating from head to toe before applying body lotion that left a hint of glitter on my skin. I’d thought about pouring a glass of wine to drink in the tub, to give me a little Dutch courage, then decided against it. In my new dress and with darker, smokier eye make-up than I usually wore – even though I knew my eyes would be hidden behind the mask all evening, I still wanted to create an impact – I felt like a different person. Someone daring; someone who gave in to their impulses, rather than standing on the sidelines, watching life go on all around them.

I was admiring my new look in the mirror, examining my reflection from all angles, when the door buzzer rang. Almost tripping over my heels in my haste to answer it, I pressed the button and said, ‘Yes?’

‘Hey, Summer, it’s Eddie.’

‘Come on up. I’m on the third floor.’ I heard the snick as I pushed the door release, and turned my attention to putting my phone and wallet into my evening bag. Eddie must have taken the stairs two at a time, because it seemed like only moments before he was knocking at my apartment door. ‘Be right with you,’ I called, slicking more gloss over already shiny lips.

When I opened the door, we both stared at each other. Apart from the afternoon I’d walked into his bar and wangled the job, he’d never seen me in anything other than his staff uniform, and as far as I was concerned, he lived in T-shirt and jeans. So for a moment, we were strangers meeting for the first time.

Delia and I had had a long, Cosmopolitan-fuelled conversation one night, debating whether a guy looked hotter in smart or casual clothes. At the time, I’d asserted that nothing could be sexier than the all-time classic combination of blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and until now I’d continued to believe that. Looking at Eddie in his form-fitting black tuxedo was causing me to revise that opinion rapidly. He hadn’t gone so far as to get a haircut or shave his beard as a concession to the occasion, but that just added to his charm, at least as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t sure his stepsister would see it in quite the same way.

As for Eddie, his eyes were wide as he gazed at me, and he seemed almost too surprised to speak. At last, he said, ‘Wow. Summer – you look incredible.’

‘So you think Heather will approve?’ I asked.

‘I approve, and that’s all that matters.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, let’s go get a cab.’

I grabbed my coat, locked the door behind me, and we began to make our way down the dark, gloomy staircase, Eddie moderating his pace so I could keep up with him in my teetering heels. As we emerged on to the sidewalk, Kenny, who owned the comic book store that occupied the basement floor of the building, was climbing the black-painted iron steps, having just shut the store for the evening.

Just as Eddie had done, he took a moment to take in my extravagant appearance. ‘Hi, Summer, off somewhere nice?’

‘The Masquerade Ball at the Mallory,’ I told him. ‘This is Eddie, my boss, by the way.’

‘Oh, so you’re the famous Eddie.’ Kenny took Eddie’s hand, pumping it up and down in an enthusiastic handshake. ‘Summer’s told me how great you are to work for. Though you know if it doesn’t work out –’ he turned to me, expression sincere ‘– I can always use an extra pair of hands in the Comic Cavern.’

‘That’s a kind offer, Kenny, but me and comic books, we don’t really mix. Like Spiderman and kryptonite, you know.’

‘I think you mean Superman,’ Eddie corrected me.’

‘See what I mean? Thanks, anyway.’ At that moment, a yellow cab rounded the corner, and Eddie stepped into the road to flag it down.

‘Well, enjoy, both of you,’ Kenny said, waving us off as we climbed into the cab and fastened our seatbelts.

Once Eddie had given the driver our destination, he fixed me with a quizzical look. ‘The famous Eddie? What’s that all about?’

‘Oh, Kenny and I are always bumping into each other outside the shop, and we chat sometimes. It’s true, I told him you’re a great boss to work for, but that’s because you are.’

He said nothing, but a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though he was quietly appreciating the compliment. We travelled in silence for half-a-dozen blocks, hitting every green light as we turned on to Eighth Avenue, then a sudden thought seemed to strike Eddie. ‘You have got your mask, haven’t you?’

I nodded, pulling it out of my bag and holding it to my eyes. In return, Eddie fished a small black domino mask from his tux pocket. ‘I’m gonna feel kind of foolish wearing this thing all night,’ he grumbled. ‘I mean, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to get into the monkey suit …’

If only you knew how gorgeous you look, I wanted to tell him, but we were both distracted by the cabbie stabbing the horn with the heel of his hand and yelling a bunch of Russian-sounding curse words at the cyclist who’d just cut him up at the lights.

Minutes later, the cab pulled up on Central Park West, in front of the impressive Art Deco façade of the Mallory Hotel. Eddie glanced at the meter, opened his wallet, and handed over a fistful of bills to the driver, telling him to keep the change.

‘Let me know what I owe you,’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘This is on me. I assume you’ve had to go out and buy that outfit specially for tonight. It doesn’t seem fair to ask you to contribute to the cab fare as well.’

The liveried doorman nodded and wished us a polite good evening as he held open the entrance door for us. I had to keep pinching myself as we walked into the Mallory’s lobby, with its marble floor and ornate crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. None of this felt real; I had to be dreaming. But if I was, I didn’t want to wake up, not when Eddie was giving me the smile that never failed to turn me inside-out, and reaching to slip his mask over his head.

‘OK, here goes,’ he said.

I mimicked his action, fixing my mask in place. We followed a stream of other guests, most of the men in simple dinner suits but the women wearing much more lavish outfits than my own, into the hotel ballroom. A table plan stood by the door, and Eddie gave it a cursory check.

‘Table 13. Lucky for some,’ he commented.

‘Lucky?’ I queried.

‘Yeah, Heather and Phillip look to be sitting on the other side of the room to us.’

A waiter went by, carrying a tray laden with glasses of champagne. Eddie snagged a couple as he passed, handed one to me, and clinked his glass against mine, proposing a toast. ‘Here’s to being whatever – and whoever – we want to be tonight.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ I replied, a pulse beating hard between my legs as my body flooded with heat. In this exotic atmosphere, identity suddenly became very fluid. Given the masks that covered everyone’s faces, no one had any idea whether they were standing next to a top executive who earned a seven-figure salary, or a lowly sales clerk. It felt like anything could happen tonight.

I took a good look round the room, trying to print as many of the details as I could on my memory so I could share them with Delia the next time I saw her. Of course, what I really wanted to tell her was not that a seven-piece band occupied a raised dais, playing cover versions of songs by Lady Gaga and Britney Spears, or that guests were able to help themselves to shots from a vodka luge, its ice sculpted in the form of the Statue of Liberty. No, I was more concerned with watching Eddie as he ran a hand through his hair, keeping a wary eye out for the possible approach of Heather. Despite his complaints, he looked comfortable in his tuxedo; I supposed the outfit appealed to the lurking belief every guy has that, in the right circumstances, he’d make the perfect secret agent.

The evening’s MC, a local TV newsreader whose voice was instantly recognisable even if his face was partially disguised, made an announcement asking us to take our places at the dinner table. Eddie and I found ourselves sitting with a party from one of the big law firms on Lexington Avenue. Luckily for us, they didn’t want to talk shop all night. Instead, they seemed more interested in learning from Eddie what it took to run a bar. He regaled them with stories of some of the strangest customers he’d had to deal with over the years, from the guy who bought a round for everyone in the bar to celebrate the fact his divorce was final to the couple who’d started off with a spot of dirty dancing to the jukebox and had to be stopped from outright fucking on the pool table. Occasionally, he’d brush my palm with his fingers, or turn and fix me with a gaze from behind his mask, keeping up the illusion that we really were a long-time couple. Whenever he did, a shivery heat ran through me, and I found it hard to concentrate on whatever was being said.

The food was delicious – a delicate smoked fish mousse to start, followed by Cornish game hens served with wild rice and roasted vegetables, and strawberry cake with white chocolate ice cream for dessert – and the wine was a cut above anything Eddie sold in the bar. During the meal, entertainers moved between the tables: caricaturists drew lightning-quick sketches of the guests, and magicians performed tricks involving cards and coins, working their sleight of hand to a rapturous reception. Even though Eddie and Heather appeared not to be particularly close, which only served to prejudice me against her, I couldn’t help but admire the effort she and her colleagues on the charity committee had put into organising the event.

As waiters appeared to remove the dessert plates and serve coffee to those who wanted it, Eddie excused himself to go to the restroom. Almost before I was aware of it, a woman took his seat. Like the rest of the entertainers, she wasn’t masked. She wore a blue chiffon top with voluminous sleeves, and silver half-moons dangled from her earlobes. I pegged her as a fortune teller before she even opened her mouth.

‘You have an amazingly vivid aura, honey,’ she told me in the sing-song tones of a Louisiana native. New Orleans, I guessed, where they took precognitive powers pretty seriously. Certainly more seriously than I did. ‘I saw it clear across the room. Bright pink, the colour of creativity, sensuality, and new relationships. May I have your hand?

I wanted to suggest she use her mind-reading tricks on someone else on our table, uncomfortable with her attention for no reason I could fathom, but that would have been rude. So I let her take my fingers in a loose grip, and waited for her to start pointing out what the lines on my palm meant.