Seduction (15 page)

IT HAD
been forty-eight hours, but Mason was still flying high from his marathon date with Terra. After leaving the hotel, they strolled arm and arm over to SoHo, and moseyed in and out of some of the most expensive galleries in Manhattan. Nothing really caught their eye, until they walked over to West Broadway, where some of the best painters and sculptors in the city sold their work on the sidewalk. As they admired the talent of the street artists, Terra fell in love with a five-foot still life painting of a half empty bottle of imported vodka and two martini glasses garnished with plumb green olives, sitting atop a long wooden bar. She said that the painting reminded her of the night at Pravda where they laughed and drank themselves silly. Watching how much she admired the piece, Mason immediately bought it for her so that she could always remember their first night together. So they wouldn't have to lug the huge canvas around town, the artist agreed to have the painting delivered to her apartment the following day.

During lunch, they shared a bottle of pinot grigio and a large bowl of farfalle with smoked salmon and asparagus at Barolo's outdoor garden. Mason felt as if they were on holiday in Tuscany, instead of in New York. Though neither broached the subject of dating exclusively, their actions spoke volumes. The way she leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked down the street, and the way he fed her forks full of pasta, it was like they were already in a committed relationship. They were so comfortable together it was as if they'd known each other for years. After a leisurely lunch, they parted ways, with Terra thanking him for a lovely afternoon, and Mason promising to call her the next day, and then they each got in separate taxis. Terra went home, and Mason went to the club.

 

THOUGH THAT WAS
two days ago, Mason couldn't get the thought of her out of his mind. Even the scantily clad members at the club couldn't distract him. Normally, he wouldn't have been able to exert any self-control as he walked through the club in search of a pair of ripe titties to suck on and a wet pussy to fuck. But tonight, he was all business as he went from chamber to chamber trying to decide which room to convert into the Poet Sanctuary.

Mason walked past the window that looked into the Voyeurism Room and saw something that caught his eye and made him stop in his tracks. There, in the middle of the king-sized bed, was a woman lying on her back, buck naked, wearing a multicolored mask with long pink, yellow, teal, red, and tangerine plumes. Her nipples were being sucked by one server, which wasn't strange at all, but what made Mason stop and stare was the dick between her legs that another server was sucking. From where he stood, he couldn't see if she was a hermaphrodite or a transgender who hadn't got the bottom half done yet. Mason had never seen a chick with a dick before—at least not in person—and watching her receive pleasure on both ends was fascinating. He stood there until the server made her climax and a stream of cum squirted out of her tiny penis. But that wasn't the end of the show. After she came, she got on all fours and knelt down on her elbows so that her ass was high in the air, turned around and told the servers to fuck her. The one who had been sucking her tits watched and waited as the other server stuck his tool up her ass and went to work. He was humping so hard that sweat poured off of his body onto hers. After a few minutes, he pulled out, so that the other server could pull up to the bumper. Mason watched them tag team her, and then in a sudden turn of events, they each stroked their own dicks and came simultaneously.

Damn, now that's some freaky shit,
Mason thought, and once the show was over, he continued on his way.

Mason stood in the doorway of the Disco, which was pumping with pulsating bodies dancing the night away, and knew that was one room that wouldn't be replaced. He then continued down the corridor and peeked his head into the Naked Pool room, which was full of members playing Eight Ball in the buff. Naked pool was so popular that Mason knew this room was also here to stay. As he surveyed the Aphrodisiac Bistro and the Chocolate Chamber, which were both buzzing with members and servers, Mason realized that he couldn't justifiably get rid of those theme rooms either. The only alternative to eliminating one of the existing rooms was to expand upstairs where his office was located. There were a couple of empty storage spaces that could be converted into the Poet Sanctuary.

As he turned around and walked back down the hallway, a member with an elaborate mask approached him.

“Hey there, where's the fire?” she asked, rubbing her hand up and down his chest.

“What do you mean?” he said, taking a slight step away from her.

“You're rushing off like there's a four-alarm fire somewhere,” she said, taking a step closer.

Mason took one look at her mask with the multicolored feathers and realized that “she was the he” or was “he the she”? In any case, it was the same chick with the dick who had just gotten fucked by two servers. He immediately looked down at her crotch, thinking that he would see a bulge, but he didn't. She wore a tight, hot pink thong, and was as smooth as a board.
Must be holding her little dick in place.
He couldn't help but stare at her beautiful 38Ds. They were perfectly round with nipples at least three-quarters of an inch long that poked through the sheer blouse she wore.

“You wanna suck 'em?” she asked, noticing him looking.

“No,” he quickly said, returning his gaze to her masked face.

She unbuttoned her blouse and began tweaking her nipples until they grew harder. She then put her hands underneath each titty and started bouncing them up and down. “They look good enough to eat, don't they?”

Mason was a breast man, and had to admit that her boobs were big and juicy, just the way he liked them. He was tempted to take a taste test, but was stopped by the thought of Terra, his true love. Even though she would never know whether or not he fucked around, he would know, and he didn't want to live with the guilt. “Yeah, they do, but I'm going to have to take a pass.”

“Since when does Mason Anthony take a pass when he could be sucking and fucking?” she asked.

How the hell does she know my name?
he thought frantically. Mason always wore his mask when he perused the club, so there was no way she could have seen his face. “What did you say?” Even though he had heard her, he wanted to make sure she hadn't mistaken him for someone else.

She grabbed his hand and put it on her titty. “Doesn't that feel good, Mason?”

He snatched his hand away. “Who are you?”

She reached in back of her head and untied her mask. “Don't you recognize me?”

Mason searched her full lips, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes, but he couldn't place her face. “No, I don't.”

“It's me, Rico,” she said.

He squinted his eyes and looked at her hard. “Rico?”

Mason had met Rico Sanns in college. He had been at Champaign, Urbana, on a four-year football scholarship, studying premed, and Rico had been a dance major. At the coach's suggestion, the varsity team took a semester of dance to help with their dexterity. While Mason was the star on the field, Rico was the star on the floor. He was a graceful dancer and could perform the most difficult moves with ease. Most of the other dance majors found the presence of the clumsy football players intrusive and resented them taking up space in their domain. But not Rico. He welcomed the beefy athletes and did whatever he could to help them with their dance routines. Mason stood out from the crowd, not because he was the cutest player, but because he was the clumsiest, and Rico immediately gravitated toward him.

Mason had taken one look at Rico prancing around in his super-tight leotards and belly shirt and knew that he was gay. Mason had a gay uncle, so he was familiar with the mannerisms of an overtly feminine man. Having grown up around the rainbow coalition, Mason didn't take offense when Rico tried to befriend him, but he made it clear that he was straight and had recently started dating Heather Scott, captain of the debate team. As it turned out, Rico and Heather had known each other since freshman year and were quite close, so the three of them often hung out together. Most weekends, Rico could be found camped out on the couch in Heather's off-campus apartment.

One Saturday evening, while Heather was at her sorority house for a meeting, Mason and Rico were at the apartment drinking beer and watching basketball. After polishing off nearly a case of MGD, they both passed out drunk on the sofa, and when Mason came to, Rico was between his legs sucking his dick. At first, Mason thought that it was Heather, but when his eyes finally focused, he realized that it was Rico. Mason wanted to tell him to stop, but Rico was sucking his dick and licking his balls like no woman had before and the sensation felt beyond good; it was like a natural high. The liquor flowing through his veins clouded his reasoning. He wanted to get up, but his body wouldn't move, so he closed his eyes and pretended like Heather was giving him head instead of Rico.

Over the course of the semester, from time to time, Rico would beg Mason to let him suck him off, and against his better judgment, Mason agreed, because he wanted that supernatural feeling again. They would meet at Heather's apartment when she was in class, and Rico would do all the work, while Mason laid back and got his helmet buffed.

Feeling guilty about letting another man suck his dick, and cheating on his girlfriend, Mason finally ended the one-sided affair. That was Mason's first and last time experiencing oral sex with a man, and once he graduated, he left the memory of his sordid sexual act behind him on the college campus, and never thought about Rico again.

“Yeah, it's me,” Missy said, dropping her high-pitched voice and sounding more like a man.

Mason was so full of questions that he didn't know where to begin. “How…uh…where…” he stammered. “How did you know it was me behind this mask?” he finally asked.

“Initially, I didn't know, but after I sucked your dick in the Aphrodisiac Bistro, I started putting two and two together.”

Mason looked totally confused. “What?”

“Remember that night in the bistro, when my friend Princess—she had on a pewter and gold mask with black feathers—and I took you to one of the booths in the back? I sucked your dick, while you sucked her titties?”

As she described the encounter, Mason began to get a visual of that night and silently cursed himself for fucking around with the members, but it was too late for brow beating. He reluctantly nodded his head yes.

“Well, I thought I knew that dick, but I wasn't completely sure, so later that night, instead of going home, I waited for you to come out of the club. You didn't have on your mask, but I knew you were the same guy that I had just sucked off, because I recognized your tight jeans and wife-beater. Anyway, I followed you home, and when I saw your picture on ‘Page Six,' I started thinking about old times and wanted to reconnect,” Missy said, her voice now back in the higher register.

“When I got your note, I was wondering how you knew where I lived,” Mason mumbled more to himself than to her.

“I've been waiting for your call, so that we could pick up where we left off, but then it occurred to me that you were not coming to me, so I had to come to you. Besides, I have another more important matter to talk to you about,” she said, taking a step closer to him.

“Look, Rico, or whatever your name is now—”

She cut him off. “It's Missy. My new name is Missy.”

“Whatever. Look, we're not picking up anywhere, and I don't care what you have to say. What happened in college is ancient history, and I have no plans of revisiting the past,” he said sternly, and started to walk away.

Missy grabbed Mason's arm. “Wait a minute. You're not going to dismiss me like you did in college. Before you walk away, you should know that I have a few mementos from back in the day that the tabloids would love to get their hands on.”

“And why would the tabloids care about information on me? I'm not famous.”

“I know you're not famous. That's why I've held on to this stuff for so long, because up until now it was meaningless, but now that you're dating a celebrity it's finally come in handy.” Missy smirked as she watched Mason's expression slowly turn to one of horror. “I'm sure that the tabloids would be interested to know that Terra Benson's ‘buffed beau,'” she said, using the term from “Page Six,” “likes to get his helmet ‘buffed' by the boys.”

“There's no way you can link me with Terra,” he said, panicked. “That picture in
The Post
didn't even have my name in the caption.”

“Oh, I can link you all right,” Missy said, taking out a set of digital pictures from her purse and showing them to him.

Mason snatched the pictures out of her hand and stared in disbelief. He and Terra's entire day in SoHo had been documented, from the moment they stepped out of the hotel, to their romp on West Broadway, and even their cozy lunch. And unlike the picture in the paper, which only showed them coming out of a lounge, these pictures clearly showed that they were an item. He ripped the photographs to shreds and threw the pieces at Missy. “That's what I think of your pictures.”