Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of an immense three-story mansion. A neatly trimmed lawn, accented with manicured shrubbery, greeted them as they arrived. Exquisite lighting accentuated the entire yard, driveway, and foliage, highlighting the property's elegance. The white façade glowed under the lights, and black shutters framed the dozens of windows encircling the mansion.
A portico, supported by four broad, white Corinthian columns that stretched from the ground to the eaves, towered over the front entrance. Above, a graceful balcony jutted out from the second story, offering a commanding view of the manicured grounds below. A pristine white wrought-iron guardrail encircled both the balcony and the front entrance's perimeter. Its intricate design added a touch of classic sophistication to the mansion's façade. Bathed in the soft glow of exterior lighting, these features stood out as defining elements of the mansion's welcoming grandeur.
An enormous oak tree towered over the house, its branches scraping against the roof on the right side.
"This is something else. Wow! It's beautiful," Celia blurted.
Barton drove the limo to the front as a valet raced over to open the door. Garrett climbed out first and then assisted each of the ladies. As Celia stepped out, she once again caught the full effect of Reagan, standing statuesque in her leopard-print gown.
"Girl, that dress is so killer on you! That wasn't a great choice; it was an inspired choice."
Reagan turned to Celia. "You're doing some killing yourself, darlin'. You'll be leaving them in your wake tonight."
Turning to Garrett, Celia said, "All right, then, show us the way, kind sir."
Garrett stepped between them and, as he had the night before, took each of their arms in his. He led them to the front entrance. They walked up onto the porch. One-foot-square granite tiles covered the floor beneath. With colors alternating between pale green and oyster gray, the pattern gave the deck a checkerboard look. The ladies' heels clacked loudly against the solid surface.
As they entered the mansion, a man dressed in a full-tailed tuxedo greeted them. He wore a black mask decorated with clear crystal beads.
"Good evening, Mr. Tyler. Welcome to the Gideon. May your evening be filled with sensual delights. We will be wearing masks for the initial part of this evening. If you and your companions would care to choose from the wall behind me."
Garrett tossed a glance at Celia. "I wasn't expecting this, but it could be fun."
Behind the concierge, a row of shelves held a vast assortment of Mardi Gras masks. Bejeweled and bedazzled with deep green, purple, blue, orange, and turquoise beading, the masks held an individuality of their own. Some had pointy ends on each side, denoting a more devilish appearance; others were more refined and polite.
Celia let out an intrigued twitter. Each step along this journey seemed to be more exciting than the last.
"There's always a twist to this party, some kind of kink. Just go with the flow." Reagan gave her a subtle wink.
The mystery surrounding this event enthralled Celia. She perused the masks.
"Oh, let me try that one," she said, pointing to the red, purple, and blue one.
The concierge handed it to her. "Excellent choice, madam."
Like a pair of glasses, the masks had two stems that reached across the temples and hooked over the ears. Celia slid the mask into place. There were flaming red feathers mounted on top, running straight up from her eyebrows. The red matched her gown. She looked to Garrett. "What do you think? Mysterious, sexy, or silly?"
Garrett tilted his head to the left, admiring her, and let out a low whistle.
"Nothing silly about this. It suits you well."
She put one hand on her hip and held the other in the air, pantomiming an imaginary cigarette holder. Twisting sideways, she posed like a 1920s flapper. "We must be off to the speakeasy for some gin."
Reagan chose a mask with a purple-and-yellow outline of jeweled beads.
The tips of the mask turned up, resembling the wings of a bat.
Garrett chose a simple, demure mask, like the one worn by Zorro, multicolored but no more than a band across his eyeline.
The concierge said, "If you would follow me, I'll show you to the main ballroom."
Fully masked, the trio followed the man through a small entryway into a large, opulent ballroom. Celia took a deep breath as she marveled at the grandeur of the room.
The ballroom radiated sophistication, its décor anchored in a striking palette of gold and black. Balloon clusters in shimmering gold and deep black reflected the light, adding a festive yet elegant touch. Draped in luxurious black cloths, each table held eight formal table settings. Gold table runners and napkins provided a vivid contrast, while the seat covers—alternating between gold and black—created a harmonious visual rhythm around the room. All the trappings melded together and glistened beneath the soft glow of overhead chandeliers.
A balcony level wrapped around the entire room. Two wide staircases, one at each end of the room, allowed access to the second level. The railing posts that enclosed the second story were white, accented by a black enamel banister.
Audio speakers had been placed strategically around the room and blasted out '60s rock music. In the center, several couples were dancing, or so Celia assumed. Their movements were ragged and awkward, lacking rhythm or style.
Come on, dude. It's the twist.
Other people in the room wore a variety of costumes or gowns. Many wore leather with studded vests and neck chokers. Some had chains dangling, while others were dressed more formally, along the lines of what she and Reagan were wearing. Celia turned to Reagan to ask if she remembered the name of that Tom Cruise movie, only to discover she had disappeared. She looked to her other side; Garrett still stood beside her.
"Where'd Reagan go?" Celia asked.
"Oh, she's off looking for adventure. I'm sure we'll hear from her soon," Garrett replied.
"I can't get over the different costumes here. It covers a pretty broad spectrum. Personally, I like our choices," she said.
Garrett said, "When you're as beautiful as you are, there's no question you chose correctly." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
Celia walked farther into the room. The infectious energy pulsated through her. She swayed with the music, almost intoxicated from the very start.
A striking spectacle caught her eye: an authentic go-go girl cage, reminiscent of the vibrant dance clubs of the 1960s, hung above the room. Inside, a beautiful woman dressed in a dazzling, fringed, sequined costume shimmered with every movement. She danced with exuberance, throwing herself into classic moves like the mashed potato, the locomotion, and the twist, fully embracing the era's nostalgic spirit.
A sophisticated lighting array swung overhead, casting dynamic beams that shifted in color and intensity, synchronized with the music. The lights played across the dancer and her cage, painting her in vivid hues and adding to the surreal, celebratory ambiance of the ballroom.
Tucked away in corners, people were making out, and in several instances, it appeared there might be more than just kissing going on. Many people were seated at the tables with drinks in front of them, occasionally breaking out in laughter.
To Celia's right, she saw a couple wearing matching steampunk outfits. These two posed as though they were statues in a park. Every thirty seconds, with smooth, deliberate movements, they would change position—a living statue presentation for everyone's edification.
The man wore a Gothic Victorian tailcoat, red velvet with gold appliqué on both lapels and an ornate gold trim design sprawled across the small of the back like a Goth tramp stamp. A white ruffled shirt poked out from under the coat's collar. There were ruffled cuffs sticking out from the sleeves. A black top hat with a small, gold steampipe extending out from the side sat on his head. On the front of the hat lay a gold clock face with hands but no numbers. Looking more closely, Celia could see that the clock's hands were working and turning at a steady pace. Additional gears and springs appliquéd to the brim gave the impression of a time-travel device. It made Celia smile at the thought. Time travel. Had she been able to go back and correct the mistakes she had made earlier in her life, everything would have been so different. She would have gone to college, played volleyball, gotten her degree, and started her career twenty years earlier. She shook her head and forced herself not to go down that rabbit hole.
The woman wore a frilly emerald dress with a fitted bodice, held tight by three leather straps that fastened along her rib cage. Leather straps ran from the waist to the hem, and she could adjust the hem to whatever length she pleased. The hem, accented with white lace ruffles, rode much higher in the front and swooped lower in back. She wore knee-high black boots with spike heels and metal studs accenting the toes. On top of the strapless dress, she wore a short, puffy-sleeved shrug that slipped on like a shawl, covering her shoulders. The bodice scooped low, almost completely exposing her modest breasts. Black studded gloves and a metal choker completed the ensemble.
Celia felt a presence behind her and turned to find Garrett watching the statue couple as well.
"That's Bill and Theresa. They'll do that for hours. Personally, it would drive me mad, but they seem to enjoy the spectacle," Garrett explained.
A woman sashayed from across the room on rollerblades and stopped in front of Celia. Celia saw that she had a mask very similar to her own, red and purple with feathers. However, that was where the resemblance stopped. This woman wore ruby-red rollerblades, a bejeweled G-string that glowed several shades of red, and a blood-red garter belt that clasped deep-red silk stockings. On top, she wore a velvet red corset with black ribbed piping. Black lace outlined the bottom as it curved up over her hips, exposing each to view. She had removed the breast cups from the corset, and her boobs were on full display. Her heavily rouged nipples had metal rings piercing through each. The woman looked up at Celia and, with a salacious grin, said, "I love a woman I have to climb." She popped onto her toe stops and kissed Celia on the cheek. With a sinister smile, she glided away.
Celia turned to Garrett, astonished. "It must be my magnetic personality because I am attracting some really different people."
Garrett blushed a bit. "I'm not surprised. Not only are you beautiful, but you're new. That's more attractive to these folks than a stock tip. What do you say we go explore and see what's what around here?" "Sounds like a plan. Lead on, sir," Celia said.
Garrett took her arm, and they moved toward the side of the main room. They walked down a hallway that led to another substantial open space. In this room, a few dozen people wore animal costumes that looked like footie pajamas. Some were dogs, others were cats; a lion and a bear danced wildly in the middle of the room. A DJ supplying the music wore a blue bunny suit, the ears bouncing to the rhythm of the song.
Celia began to laugh. Covering her mouth, trying not to be too obvious, she shook her head sadly.
This is fucking crazy!
She leaned close to Garrett's ear and said, "What the hell is this?" She couldn't stop giggling.
Garrett leaned close to her ear. "It's a furry party. These people enjoy dressing up like animals. I don't know a lot about it, to be honest. It was never my thing."
"What do they do once they're dressed up? Is this it?" Celia asked, astonished by the scene in front of her.
"Pretty much. There's a lot of drinking and dancing. I expect a conga line will break out before too long." He laughed. "There's not a lot of sex involved; it's more of a fetish."
"I'm with you." She squished up her face. "This does nothing for me. It looks pretty stupid, actually."
Celia said that a bit too loudly, and the panda standing nearby heard her. The furry stepped over and a woman's voice berated her, "You know what? No one cares what you think. We don't come here to listen to your judgment. If this isn't for you, get the fuck out."
Celia spewed out an apology. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't judging. I've just never seen this before. I'm sure that it gives you pleasure, but it's just not for me, I think."
The panda bowed her head and turned away. Celia didn't know whether this woman had accepted the apology.
"Damn, I feel awful. I didn't think they could hear me with the music and all that fur."
Garrett frowned and took her arm. "Let's get out of here." They continued through the room and into the hall on the other side. As they moved down the hallway, Celia looked into an open door and saw eight people sitting around a poker table. Judging by the size of the pot in the middle of the table, a generous payout awaited the winner.
The next open door had several card tables set up. People were in the middle of a bridge tournament of some kind.
Celia said to Garrett in a hushed tone, "How can people play cards with everything else going on?"
"Different strokes, my dear. That's what this gathering is all about." Garrett raised and lowered his eyebrows in a "get it" gesture. They continued down the hall.
A very attractive man in his early forties walked by. He nodded at Garrett and said, "Hello." He held eye contact for a second longer than he should have. Garrett replied, "Hello to you too." The seductive tone was unmistakable.
Oh, wait a minute! How did I miss this?
Garrett watched the man walk past and then turned back to Celia as though nothing had just happened. Celia's eyes were wide with surprise, and she said, "So, he was pretty good-looking."
Garrett shook his head and said, "Damn. I was rather indiscreet, wasn't I?"
Celia took his arm and pulled him close. "So, travel wasn't the only reason you got divorced? Am I right?"
Garrett nodded. "Let's just say I'm an equal opportunity employer."
"You looked pretty contented last night at the strip club, so naturally I thought that was your team. Nothing wrong with keeping your options open, at least from where I sit."
Garrett smiled at her and patted her hand.
At the end of the hallway, they found a grand staircase. It curved up to the second story, similar to the stairs in Garrett's suite. Garrett gestured. "What did you call it? The stairway to heaven? Let's check it out."
They began to walk upstairs. Celia said, "Three months ago, I would never have done this. Now, I'm kinda excited. It's so damn thrilling."
Garrett stopped her on the stairs. "Tell me, have you been enjoying this trip so far? I was worried that last night may have been too much. And now with my revelation..."
Celia shook her head in amazement. "Last night was... let's just say that I've been tingling all day, all puffed up. I'm like one of those puffer fish, you know, the ones with the spikes that blow up in the face of danger? Only for me, it's not danger, it's arousal. This whole trip has me all puffed up."
Garrett considered her remarks. "That's an interesting way of putting it.
Puffed up. I get the imagery. Good for you."
Celia squeezed his forearm. "I just feel lighter than air, all puffed up and excited to see what the evening brings me."
Garrett took her elbow, and they continued to climb the stairs. Once at the top, he said, "Let's step in here and see what's happening."
Celia followed him in. They discovered a game room. There were three pool tables, several card tables, and five flat-screen TVs with game modules attached. On the right, a bar with a giant mirror behind it dominated that portion of the room. There were glass shelves along the front of the mirror, holding dozens of liquor bottles.
"Doesn't seem to be a lot happening here," Garrett said. At that moment, his phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, he said, "It's Reagan. She seems to have gotten into a sticky situation. Please wait here while I rescue her. I'll be right back."
"Of course. I can only imagine what she's gotten herself into," Celia said with a wry chuckle.
Garrett left the room and headed downstairs.
She sat on the sofa opposite the seventy-five-inch TV and turned it on. A soft porn scene jumped to life. On the big screen, they looked almost life-size and very intimidating. Looking left and then right, not knowing exactly what to do, she froze. Should she turn it off? Should she watch? If she watched, what if she got excited? She had never really watched porn before.
This is totally weird!
She felt a presence behind her. Spinning toward the door, she saw a man she didn't know. She turned off the TV with the urgency of a first responder and faced the man, pretending that she hadn't been watching porn.
"Hi, um, I just turned it on, and that's what was playing. I didn't know. I'm sorry if I'm intruding," Celia said, embarrassed.
Taking a moment to look at this man, Celia's breath caught in her throat. She didn't think she had ever seen such a beautiful mortal. Tall, athletically built, a gorgeous specimen of humanity. He wore a black tux with a red bow tie and cummerbund. Even with his chiseled face partially hidden under a mask, she could see a near-perfect tan. His hair looked like a dense jungle of exquisite silk. A five o'clock shadow ran across his chin, and Celia's first thought was how that shadow would feel running over her stomach.
What the hell? Her thighs squeezed together. With a great deal of charm, the man said, "Not at all. Tonight, this is an open house. Everyone is welcome everywhere."
The way he said it implied an intimate connection with the house and the event.
"Oh, can I ask, is this your house?" Celia asked. Running his hand through his thick black hair, the man said, "My grandfather's, actually. But he's rather old now. I moved in to help take care of things."
Gorgeous and charitable. I am in serious trouble.
"That's a very generous thing to do. But what about you?" The man turned away and walked to the closest of the three pool tables. He set his cocktail on the rail. Turning to her, he leaned against the table and put his hands in his pockets.
He looks like fucking James Bond, for Chrissake!
A wave of warmth flowed over her midsection. Everything that had happened over the last two days had planted her on the horny side of the street. This guy was just stoking a fire ignited yesterday.
"It's nothing really. I've been running the family business for several years now. Doing it from here is not a hardship at all. And when I have to go into the city or travel, we have plenty of help on staff."
"That's so..." She didn't know what to say. She was tongue-tied and nervous, and her knees may have actually been weak. Without thought, she walked around the sofa and crossed to him. His height allowed her to look directly into his eyes, and that helped her feel more comfortable. In his presence, she seemed to have lost control of her motor functions, moving solely by rote. A thousand thoughts flew through her head. She looked into his eyes and stared. They both still wore their masks, so she studied the parts of his face that were visible.
The man had a presence, a pervasive calm about him. He looked at Celia and said, "I have to confess, I've been in this room since you walked in with Garrett." Celia blushed. "I only just met him last week. I came down here on a whim. We're just friends, really, and barely that. There's nothing going on."
The man stood, stepped to her, and took her hand in his. "I'm delighted to hear that." He reached up and brushed the back of her forearm. "You're magnificent, are you aware?" She felt his gaze intensify. "I get the impression that you don't understand how lovely you are."
A crimson blush flashed across her check and she felt herself moisten. Her butt muscles ground in a small, barely noticeable circle. The motion caused the G-string cupping her pubic bone to slide right and left, adding extra stimulation. That jolt increased and shot up her inner thighs. She reached out to steady herself on the pool table but missed, causing her to spin around and fall against it. The man stepped in front of her.
"I don't know exactly what's happening, but..." He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. His gentle, impactful touch set her on fire.
She turned away and said, "I have to be honest. I don't know you, and I'm feeling a little lost here, but..."
He stepped to her and pressed against her back. She felt the front of his thigh against the back of hers. She also felt his erection against her butt.
Holy shit! What am I doing?
His hands dropped onto her shoulders, and he spun her around. They were face to face, her breath coming in short, rapid spurts. He raised his hand again and stroked her cheek. Looking into her eyes, he leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss consumed her, and she surrendered to the moment. Before she knew it, she threw her arms around his neck, fully committed to whatever this crazy situation would bring. Pulling him close, she kissed with complete abandon, trying to inhale his entire body. She couldn't get close enough. She couldn't hold him tight enough. She wanted to open up her body and let him climb in. His hands were scraping across her back. Her hands were holding his head tight to hers.
In one move, he picked her up off the floor and sat her on the pool table. He parted her knees and stepped between her thighs. His hands dropped to her ass and pulled her toward him.
Celia's head dropped back, offering her neck to him. She felt the rough stubble of his cheek against her throat. Nipping on her neck, he moved his hands onto her front and covered her breasts. She ran her hands up and down his back and over his ass. Grabbing each butt cheek, she pulled him to her and wrapped her legs around his torso.
His right hand reached down for the hem of her gown. As he gathered the material and moved up her leg, she felt him hit the top of her tattoo stockings and touch her bare upper thigh. His touch set her leg ablaze. She feared he might scorch her skin if he lingered too long. He then repeated the same move with his left hand, under the gown and up to her naked thigh.
"You have to undo..."
She needn't have worried; a garter belt presented no challenge for this Lothario. He ran the length of the garter strap up to the belt and then back down to the clasp. He understood that the G-string wouldn't come off until the stockings had been unclipped. With a flick of his thumb, the front clasps came undone. He didn't hesitate and slid his hand under her thigh. She raised her leg to allow him access. In the blink of an eye, he unclipped the remaining restraints.
With great care, he took her shoulders and lowered her onto her back on the pool table. Reaching under the gown, he grabbed the waistband of the thong and pulled it over her hips. She arched her back to raise her butt off the table, as the back strap dragged out of her ass. The thong slid down over her knees. It landed somewhere on the floor.
Dropping to his knees, he raised the skirt and dove headfirst under it, straight to her coochie. Celia spread her legs as his tongue wasted no time with preliminaries. Lying on her back, eyes closed, she held his head tight. Celia reveled. Her hips gyrated, her back arched, and her head banged against the green felt of the pool table. Mini contractions brought her shoulders off the table as though she were doing crunches at the gym. They came without warning and often two or three at a time. She came fast and hard and with great fervor.
The man pulled out from under the gown and undid his belt, dropped his pants, and leaned in again to her. Celia never got a chance to see his hard-on before he blasted into her. She felt the girth and moaned. While she didn't have a visual reference, she knew enough at this point to know he knew his way around a woman.
He moved in and out of her in perfect rhythm. Leaning forward, he placed his hands over each of her breasts. She slid back and forth, synchronized with his pace. She came again, letting out a sound she had never heard herself make.
While she struggled to catch her breath, the man continued to plunge into her. His face contorted, then shivered, and his head rotated in ecstasy. He exploded inside her with a guttural moan. As he did, he fell forward, dropping his head onto her breasts. She clutched at him and wouldn't let go. They lay in that position for a full minute.
As her body began to relax, regular feeling and normal sensations returned.
Tapping the man on his shoulder, she tried to sit up. He slid out of her, his face registering a twinge as he did. Stepping back, he bent over and pulled up his tux trousers.
Watching him bend over, realizing that there is no gracious way to bend over and pull up your pants, no matter how rich you are, brought with it a jarring wave of shame, complete embarrassment. Celia had a crystal-clear realization of the consequences of her actions.
Her face went hot again, this time from embarrassment. She stared down at the floor, seeing his spent penis disappear into his pants, highlighting her humiliation. She turned her head to the right, then to the left.
Nowhere to run to, baby.
Her mouth moved as she tried to say something to justify her behavior.
Nothing came out.
Celia turned to him and stammered, "Look, I don't know what to say. I've never... Oh, my God... I have to go. I'm sorry to run. Uhm, thanks."
Before the man could respond, Celia grabbed her clutch and raced out of the room.
In the hallway, flushed and spent, she turned right as a door opened. Bill and Theresa, the two steampunk statue people, stepped out. They were startled at the sight of her but attempted to hide their surprise. Obviously, they were hiding something because they were acting in a very suspicious manner.
"Uhm, hi, what are you doing?" Celia said as nonchalantly as possible, which only made her look suspicious as hell.
"Why, hello. How are you? Keeping busy?" Theresa said, also sounding suspicious. They were behaving as though they had both just been caught doing something naughty. Bill gave Celia a knowing smile of approval.
"Hmmm," Bill moaned.
Celia, acting innocent, said, "What was that for?" Bill took Theresa's hand and sauntered toward the staircase. "Oh, nothing. I just like your style."
They chortled at each other and hopped down the stairs. For two living statues, they were quite nimble. They left Celia standing outside the game room. Now curious, she looked at the door the two had just stepped out of and moved toward it. A glow emanated from the room, coming from around the corner. Stepping in, she followed the light. The room was bare except for a giant glass window. It took a moment, but Celia realized that she was looking through a window into the game room. Confused, she tilted her head, and then it hit her: she was looking at the back side of the mirror that was behind the bar. A two-way mirror!
Oh fuck!
Bill and Theresa had been watching her with the mystery man.
Embarrassment, anger, excitement, rage all flowed through her at the same time.
What the fuck?
She turned in a rage and chased down the stairs after the two Peeping Toms.
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and looked in both directions. They were gone. Poof. Vanished.
Celia then searched for Garrett and Reagan. As if on cue, they came strolling around the corner, whispering low and chuckling under their breath.
"What the hell? Are you fucking kidding me?" Celia wanted answers. They both froze. Celia marched around in front of them. "You want to explain that little trick? I mean, what the hell, Garrett?"
Garrett looked at Reagan as she stared back at him, her eyes wide and riddled with confusion.
"Okay, first off, I have no idea what you're talking about. We were just coming back up to find you. What happened?"
Celia saw the confusion in their eyes and tilted her head. "You have no idea what I'm talking about?" She doubted herself. Reagan said, "Celia, are you okay?"
Celia let out a frustrated grunt and ripped off her mask. "No! I'm not okay. Garrett, why did you leave me in that room? Did you know what was going to happen?"
Garrett stared at her blankly.
"Garrett. What did you do?" she stressed.
Garrett looked to Reagan for some help; she gave him nothing. "I didn't do anything, I promise."
Reagan spoke with apprehension. "What exactly happened? Were you hurt?" Celia grunted again. "No, I wasn't hurt. I just... oh, fuck!" She cried the last part.
Garrett took her arm and slid down to hold her hand. "Celia, tell us what happened."
Celia pulled her arm away and walked back and forth, shaking her head in frustration.
"Okay, so I meet this guy, the one who owns this place. One thing led to another, and bam, we're fucking on the pool table."
Garrett and Reagan both let out a cry of surprise. "You fucked a stranger on a pool table?" Reagan said, not quite believing what she was hearing. "Celia, the shy little Celia who just went to her second strip club ever?"
Celia looked at her and heard herself for the first time.
Oh shit! This is weird!
"It sorta just happened. I mean, he looked like fucking James Bond, and he had on that mask and..."
"You were wearing the masks?" Garrett had recovered enough to say. "Well, tickle me, Elmo."
Celia dug herself deeper and deeper into a hole. "So, long story short," Celia said.
"It's already too late for that," Reagan chimed in. "I got embarrassed and ran out. I guess I ran out faster than people thought because I caught the steampunk statues coming out of the room next door. Come to find out..."
Garrett interrupted, "It's the two-way mirror behind the bar. They watched the whole thing."
The three of them exchanged looks as they all shook their heads in disbelief.
Then Reagan started to laugh.
Garrett looked at her, outraged, but it took only one glance before he started to laugh as well.
Celia wanted to get mad, to yell at them, but she couldn't get there. A smile forced its way onto her face, and in an instant, all three convulsed in laughter.
Celia snorted out, "Oh my God, what did I do?" and continued laughing. They were stumbling down the hallway, and the hysterical trio wound their way to a staircase and finally sat down. Reagan, tears running down her face, turned and hugged Celia.
"My God, girl, you are not who I thought you were." Celia responded, "I am not who I thought I was!" The two collapsed into laughter again.
Celia let Reagan continue the hug. "I just felt guilty. And wanted to find you guys. That is so not me!" She wanted to be outraged, betrayed, humiliated, but she couldn't stop laughing. And to be honest, she didn't feel betrayed or humiliated; she just didn't care. As she thought about it, she realized she hadn't been naked; they just saw a skirt flying around and her legs in the air. They might have gotten a peek at the guy's penis, and Celia felt a bit of jealousy. She sure as hell hadn't— at least, she hadn't seen his erection.
As she pulled away from Reagan, a new realization hit her. Instead of feeling outraged and hurt, her gut told her something else. Her gut held a warm glow. The idea of being watched while having sex had never occurred to her. Having fallen victim to her own desires at the most inopportune time, she felt like the star of her own porn movie. She rather enjoyed the feeling.
Garrett leaned into them both. "I have to say, that is more of an experience than I thought you'd get tonight."
That made Celia laugh. "I don't know who the hell I am anymore." Reagan fell backward laughing.
A big smile crossed her face. She hugged both Garrett and Reagan. "Oh, you guys!"
All of them had had a night, and they headed out. Riding in the back of the limo, Celia's body still had a shiver to it, but she had other thoughts on her mind. Retracing their steps through the mansion, she visualized the furry room, the main ballroom, the game room, and all of the other themed suites that they had seen. Turning to Garrett, she said, "Garrett, how much different would it be to design and build a luxury suite compared to a fantasy room?"
"Not very, just a little more imagination and different furnishings," Garrett said, not making the connection.
Celia nodded and kept the concept alive in her head. She could feel a legit opportunity and let it simmer in her mind. A little research would be necessary, but if it worked like she thought it worked, she might just be on the precipice of a truly brilliant idea. She wiggled with excitement and, at that moment, realized that her garter belt flopped freely against her thigh, unclipped from her stockings. In her mind, she could see her lace thong lying on the floor beneath the pool table.
I'm going commando under a thousand-dollar silk gown.
The image of Rod's skanky girlfriend's purple panties on her closet floor crashed into her head.
"Hmm, I guess that's how it happens," she said, shaking her head as she laughed at herself.