Chapter 17
Leo walked up the red carpet to the roped-off entrance, passing a long line of tourists and partygoers. A doorman, wearing a black tuxedo and a silver fox mask, stood outside with a clipboard.
Leo whispered into his ear and the man lifted the rope. Leo smiled over his shoulder as we followed him inside.
“Well, well, don’t we feel like royalty?” Shea beamed as we approached the billowy, white-curtained entrance.
“Darling, of course, we are,” Odessa said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. I loved how she claimed her power, never apologizing or second guessing herself.
Leo stopped at the entrance. “Are you ready, gorgeous creatures?” His cheek flushed, and his words softened from the Prosecco. I hoped his tipsy-bubble numbed his broken heart, at least for tonight.
“We are so ready,” Shea said, dancing on the tips of her cowboy boots. “What did you say to him to get past the line?”
Leo laughed. “The truth. I told him you beautiful women are all princesses, visiting from America.”
“I knew you saw our crowns,” Odessa said.
I loved being included as a princess from America. It was ridiculous, but it made me feel royal. Confidence moved through my body like an elixir. My shoulders rolled back. I held my head high. Leo parted the white curtains and we entered the tent.
The room pulsed with music and light. Red. Blue. Green. Purple. Jewel-tone strobe lights circled the room, bathing the walls with beams of color. This club was alive and throbbing with the colors of Carnival.
Standing beside Leo and these gorgeous women, I no longer wanted to hide under my covers. I wanted to be a part of the festival. I wanted to dance and revel in the rich color and the sexiness of the night.
For years, I had seen Carnival only as an event that attracted tourist dollars, powerful enough to make or break a business. I experienced Carnival as a Venetian, which made it impossible to see the crowds and the masks and not feel how different day-to-day life really was in my city.
That night, I wanted to experience Carnival as a woman. I wanted to stand with my lover under a glittering, silk ceiling. I wanted to feel the touch of my lover’s hand against the bare skin of my back as we danced. I wanted Dylan. I stood at the edge of the dance floor, breathless and wanting.
A series of bars, all lit by different colors, were nestled around the edge of the tent, framing the dance floor like crown jewels. A DJ stood on a raised stage in the middle of the room. His hand on his headphones, he swayed in time with a steady beat.
People wearing masks of all colors and design crowded the dance floor. There were silver birds, black angels, red kings, sequined faeries. People danced solo, eyes closed, performing for themselves. Couples moved and swayed together, their bodies bending and flowing in time with each other’s heartbeat.
The concept of gender had no place here. People dressed in all manner of fashion. Tourists in jeans pressed their bodies against masked strangers in ball gowns.
Silk, velvet, and satin, the sounds of swirling skirts added a layer of texture to their collective song. Everyone shone under this silk canopy, tiny lights sparkled overhead like stars in the night sky.
The four of us stood together just inside the entrance. A waiter dressed in black greeted us with a silver tray, offering up carnival masks like appetizers.
“Yes, please,” Odessa said, selecting a black mask. Leo chose red, Shea yellow. I chose a white-and-gold-one. The masks were paper, but sturdy, and modeled after the more expensive hand-painted masks sold at boutiques in the city.
Masks on, we joined the crowd on the dance floor. Moving as one, pairing off at times, dancing alone, it was hypnotic, sexy, and oh-so-fun. As I danced, I thought of Dylan, remembering the softness of his lips on my throat, the tickle of his tongue between my breasts and down my belly.
In the dark corners of the club, sequins glittered and shadows grew, revealing couples making out. I wished I were pressed up against a wall in the dark with Dylan, with Strand. I didn’t care what name he used, his body belonged to me. His mouth, his hands, his hard dick, parting the lips of my pussy and driving into me until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I danced uninhibited and free, sweat rolling down my back. Odessa slipped away to buy us all drinks, and eventually we drifted to an empty booth by the edge of the dance floor to rest. Dripping with sweat, our bodies hummed with electricity as we soaked in the beauty of the night.
Almost everyone in the room wore masks by now. Emboldened by anonymity, the sexual buzz grew stronger as people moved closer together with every song.
Arms and legs intertwined. Bodies bent over and on top of each other. People stopped disappearing into the dark and made out right in the middle of the dance floor. The crowd moved around these lovers like they were muses.
Shea sat beside me, eyes wide. “Is it cheating if I am fucking these strangers with my mind?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “It’s Carnival.”
“When I go home,” she said, “I am going to go to bed with Troy and make him take me ten different ways.”
“Only ten?” Odessa said.
“Not everyone does yoga, Odessa,” Shea said with a wink.
We sipped our drinks, leaning into the soft velvet of our booth, still wearing our masks. Leo returned to the dance floor and was moving hip-to-hip with a black-masked hawk.
“I hope he is doing okay,” Shea said.
“He told you?” I said. We hadn’t talked about David at all at the table.
“We were there when the poorly timed text arrived,” Odessa said, wrinkling her nose. “I have never been a fan of dick pics, especially ones I don’t know.”
“Nobody wants to see a stranger’s ding dong,” Shea said, swirling her drink and making us all laugh.
“And what about you, Bella?” Odessa asked. “Are you dating anyone in this gorgeous city?”
“Me?” I laughed. “No.”
“That was a quick answer,” said Odessa.
“Too quick,” Shea said, pointing her finger at me.
“Well, I was engaged.” I took a sip of my Negroni.
“And you aren’t anymore?” Odessa said.
“No, I got to the altar. And…I left.”
“No,” Shea said. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” I said, nodding. “I ran. I ran out of the church. I think he just stayed there, wondering if I would come back. I didn’t.”
“My, oh, my.” Shea reached over and squeezed my knee. “Good for you.”
“Not sure I recommend it,” I said, shrugging and taking another drink. “I wish I had realized earlier that I couldn’t do it.”
“Do you wish you were married to him now?” Odessa said.
“No, absolutely not.”
“Good,” Odessa said. “No regrets. Do not doubt yourself. You have to listen to your heart, and sometimes, it takes time to understand what we really want. When you find love, you hold onto it with both hands.”
“Amen, sister,” Shea said. She held up her hand, and Odessa responded with a quick high five. Damn, I loved their energy.
“So, you two speak from experience?” I said, giggling.
“We speak as women who know that the path to love isn’t always easy,” said Odessa.
“Truth,” Shea said.
“Be kind to yourself, Bella,” Odessa said. “You shouldn’t be ashamed that you ran from the church. If people can’t accept your choices,” she shrugged, “fuck them.”
“Yes, fuck them,” I said, sipping my drink. Be kind to myself. It was such powerful and simple advice. Why did I find it so hard to follow?
That night was the real beginning of Carnival for me, although the festival would end in only a few days. Soon, the masks in this room would flow out into the streets, and everyone in Venice would be pretending to be someone else night and day.
Some of the people that night wore costumes they would wear again at the Doge”s Palace Ball. I had gone to the ball once, with Leo after we graduated from secondary school.
My memories of that spectacular night were a montage of magical moments. A golden ballroom filled with layered, lacy gowns. Half-naked acrobats suspended from the ceiling. Brides and grooms marrying in a group ceremony on the palace steps. Masks so beautiful and valuable, they were only worn in public once a year.
The beat of the music in the club slowed and the volume decreased. The DJ addressed the crowd. “Lovers, we have a special event tonight,” he said, “a surprise artist who needs no introduction. Like all you queens, he, too, should reign in Venice.”
The energy of the room spiked in anticipation of the mystery guest. On stage next to the DJ sat a single chair and a mic stand.
As the crowd clapped, a man wearing a full-faced mask, half black and half gold, stepped onto the stage. Recognition roared through my body. I knew that mask. Strand was at Eros.
He looked out into the crowd, and I couldn’t breathe. The club went wild. Cell phones flashed and glowed in the dark room. Strand bowed and picked up his guitar. I searched for signs of Dylan in the way he moved, the way he stood, but the mask transformed him.
My mouth half-open, breathing shallow and shaking, I thought of my hands running over every inch of that man’s body, but had I ever touched Strand? He strummed his guitar, and in a flash, I saw Dylan’s hands. My heart surged, recognizing those strong, talented fingers that stroked me to climax.
Stand leaned in to the microphone. “Hello, my name is Strand.”
The crowd erupted again, clapping and hollering.
In our booth, Odessa gripped my arm. “Oh, my God.”
“I thought he was dead,” Shea whispered.
“Retired,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the stage. “Five years.”
Leo rushed back to the booth and scooted in beside Shea. “So, this is crazy. I love his music. Best Carnival Ever.”
I swear, every cell phone in the room was pointed at that stage. The room glowed with an artificial blue light. I wondered if the Street family would try to control the press from this event.
Strand nodded at the DJ as his strumming formed a melody. The DJ injected a slow beat into Dylan’s song. The acoustic guitar mixed with the electronic pulse in a sorrowful and fucking sexy beat.
The shocked crowd swayed in time, unable to stay still as the music drove them forward. The people in this room wanted Strand. I wanted Dylan, my lover.
Lover, see me
His voice was hypnotic, golden.
Lover, please me
“I don’t know this one,” Leo said. He raised his mask, along with Shea. “Must be new.”
The lights on the stage rotated through the jewel-toned colors of Carnival, bathing Dylan in blue, green, red, and purple light.
The gold side of his mask changed with each shifting shade. The black side of his mask stayed constant. Was his two-sided mask a nod to the two hidden masks he wore every day?
Lover, taste me
Take me into your water
Show me who you are
I’ll ransom my beliefs
I’ll lay bare my soul
Lover, taste me
I’ll never let you go
As the song continued, I realized I knew the tune. Holy shit. Strand’s come-back song was written in the kitchen at Andiamo.
“Let’s get closer,” Shea said, scooting over the top of Leo and standing in the aisle. She held out her hands to Odessa and me. “I have to dance to this. We all do. Come on, come on, come on.”
Odessa nodded, and she looked at Leo and me. “Let’s get out there and dance away both your broken hearts.”
I wasn’t sure my heart was broken, at least, not yet, but somehow Odessa knew my heart wasn’t whole. Leo stood and gave Odessa a quick hug before we followed her onto the dance floor.
My mask still on, I followed my friends in a line. We wove through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. My mask made me brave. Could I stand before Dylan and hide in plain sight?
I teetered a bit on my boots as I walked. I pulled up the sleeves of my tight sweater. Sweat trickled down my back.
Take me, lover.
Taste me, lover
Give me everything, lover.
Show me the light.
I’m so tired
Tired of the cold.
I’m so tired
Of the endless night
His voice intoxicated me. This was me, drunk on desire. The room swirled between darkness and light. As Odessa and I moved closer and closer to the stage, my body opened to his voice.
My core heated up, and a familiar pulse beat between my legs. I knew this man. I knew his touch. I wanted him.
We elbowed and danced our way to the very front of the stage. I was so close. I could reach out and touch his leg. I didn’t. Instead, Odessa, Shea, Leo, and I danced.
I moved my hips back and forth in time with the strokes of his guitar. Behind my mask, I fixed my eyes on his face and remembered the feeling of his mouth between my legs, his tongue teasing and fucking me until I came.
I remembered the feeling of his fingers, first one, two, and three, pushing me open, thrusting inside me, teasing and stroking me to the edge of pleasure.
He was mine, if only in Venice. I no longer cared what would happen beyond Carnival. I would endure any level of pain to lie next to him again, to feel his hands on my bare skin, his lips pressed against mine.
Lover, come closer
Lover, give me your gaze
Give me your body
Give me all your ages
Unravel my truth
And I’ll tell you no lies
I couldn’t follow his gaze from behind his mask, but I hoped he could see me. I no longer wanted to hide; I wanted to be fully seen by him.
Lover, I’ve waited for so long
Lover, take me to the light
I stopped moving and stood right in front of him, unmoving. He walked along the stage and paused before me. I couldn’t be sure, but for a moment, it felt as if he were looking at me, only at me.
I wanted it to be true with every cell in my body. I was wet and aching and I wanted him to feel my desire.
I’m so tired of the night
Lover, I’ve waited
Take me to the light
Lover, I’ve waited
Take me to the light
I reached behind my hair and undid the strings of my mask. It fell to the ground. Strand’s hand hovered above the strings of his guitar. He missed a beat and then continued playing.
Lover, take me to the light
Strand didn’t miss notes, but Dylan did. He saw me. I gasped, my heart echoing like a bass drum through my whole body. Dylan knew I was there.
Without my mask, I moved in time with the music, arms in the air, I never taking my eyes off of him. I moved my hands down my throat, and over my breasts. My nipples hard and tingling with sensation as I gave them a slow, sensual squeeze.
My head rocked back in pleasure. My breathing grew fast and shallow. He nodded at me, and I resisted the urge to climb on stage and kneel before him to suck him off.
I’d be such a good girl. I’d be such a naughty girl. I would be anything and everything he needed.
My hands in my hair, my mouth open with need, I was aware of no one else in the room, but Dylan. I danced through the colored lights for my lover.
His music compelled me to move for him, to show him what I craved, to telegraph my raw aching need to open my body and soul to his touch.
Lover, be mine
Yes,” I whispered.
Lover, be mine
Yes, my body answered. My pussy throbbed, dripping wet and ready for him. The song ended and the crowd erupted in applause. Strand nodded, and exited through the stage door behind him.
“Lovers,” the DJ said, clapping, “can you believe what we just saw here? Strand, sharing his first song in five years. It happened here at Eros.
It happened here, with all you beautiful kings and queens. Now keep dancing. Show me how you move.” Headphones back on, the DJ kicked up the beat and the still-murmuring crowd lost themselves in another dance.
Looking at the empty stage, desire throbbed deep inside me. Maybe he hadn’t seen me? Or maybe he had, and I was just another Strand fan to him.
Everyone with a heartbeat in this room wanted to fuck him. What made me think we’d had a real moment? Behind me, Shea, Odessa, and Leo danced.
“That was amazing,” Shea shouted above the thumping bass. “I can’t believe we were here for that.” She held up her phone, but I couldn’t see the headline in the dark. “It’s already online. You were right, Bella, a new song.”
My heartbeat thumped inside my chest. Dizzy from dancing, I needed to leave the dance floor. “I’ll be back,” I shouted.
Leo gave me a thumbs-up, and I wove through the crowd, making my way back to our booth. As I walked toward our table, Dylan stepped in front of me. His mask was off.