Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 3)

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Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 2)

<Pt 1

There was a man stationed just inside the entryway to the ballroom where the guests were gathered.  He wore a mask, but it was a flat, uninteresting gray, and he was garbed in a red suit that seemed to indicate he was staff, not guest.  He greeted me with a nod and extended a hand for mine—I let him take it, and we glided into the room, he leading me through a warm crowd of party-goers.  They were all in masks all the same style and design, but in a myriad of colors.  I saw silver, green, royal blue, all glittering and sparkling in the dim golden light shed from the chandeliers overhead.  My mask was the only one with detail and accessory, and the same went for my outfit: all of the men wore simple, rich red fraternal robes, like monks.

Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 1)

The latest Hump Day Request story deals with more masquerade fun, hidden identities, and secrets revealed.  Enjoy this brand-new story, my lovelies!

The address on the little slip of paper in my hand belonged to an austere, officious sprawl of a manor on the Gold Coast, a big, dark building of cool stone and creeping ivy.  I took a long moment to appreciate it as I stepped out of the gleaming black limousine that had come out to my humble apartment to fetch me: perhaps I should have known, given the invitation I’d received to tonight’s event and the detailed instructions contained within.  This wasn’t going to be just any old party.

Of course, no party is any old part if I’m invited.

No Update This Weekend

So sorry, my lovelies, but there will be no update to Foreplay and Fangs this weekend.  Unfortunately my computer has decided to give me problems and I have to have it fixed.  It's a relatively minor repair so I don't foresee any long-term troubles, but it just happens to affect my ability to type and transcribe, so the story I was GOING to post this week (a sexy masquerade party courtesy of my latest Hump Day requester) has to be put off until I can reliably transcribe it to Word.  Hopefully this will be taken care off before next weekend.

On another note, it's my wedding anniversary this weekend, so frankly I'd rather be getting it on with my one and only, anyway.

See you next week!

Dance of the Paper Dolls (Pt 3)

         <Pt 2

          “What are you?” she asked.  “Why are you doing this?”

          “Just the natural order of things, sweetness,” said the dark-haired girl.  “We had to make sure Genesis hadn’t killed you, or we’d have had to punish her, but now that we know you’re alright, we can get on with the party.”

          “Party?”  She was still groggy, her mind still slowly coming awake.  “I don’t… want a party…”

          The girl laughed—it was like ice and glass, hatefully biting.

          “Sure you do.  Colt’s been waiting ages for you to come along and play, haven’t you, Colt?”

          “Sure have,” the male agreed.  “But it’s all right, Cleo… let her catch her breath.”

          He smoothed back her hair; her shoulders relaxed a little.  Devilish as he looked, he seemed gentle.

          “There now.  You are pretty… no wonder our little puppy likes you so much.”

Dance of the Paper Dolls (Pt 2)

 <Pt 1

 

           She went to the window and poked her head out.  They were there, just as she’d imagined them: Darry in the same shirt and jeans—they were even dirtier now—and Genesis, standing behind him, her hands clasped demurely behind her back and her face upturned with a knowing, winking smile.

           Thankfully, though, no fangs.  And she wasn’t wearing that red kimono… just jeans, Doc Marten boots and a violet, laced-up-the-front corset top.  Her hair was pale blonde, but it wasn’t white.

           Maybe, Winnie thought to herself.  Maybe I am overreacting.

           Maybe I am a little jealous.

Dance of the Paper Dolls (Pt 1)

Darry had missed classes for over a week; she’d left him message after message on his cell phone and hadn’t gotten so much as a text in return.  Winnie was just about to contact the police to make a missing person’s report—something she knew she should have done from the beginning—when, amazingly… he returned.

She caught sight of him from across the student union—he was sitting in the teal nylon sofa chair he always sat in, waiting for her as if he’d never left.  A rush of sudden excitement filled her and she picked up her pace to join him, practically dropping her tray of food as she did; as she got closer, though, she realized how strange… how incredibly different… he looked.