Chapter 34 Aida
Aida
“Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.”
—Milton, Paradise Lost
Okay, so I am fucking terrified.
I committed a huge own goal when I put my producer hat on over my real hat, which is that of a forty-something woman who’s seriously out of practice. I chose theatre over security.
The problem is, I couldn’t resist the lure of the spectacle that is the Alchemy Masked Ball. If we can pull off the footage we need in the crazy tight time constraints we have, it’ll provide the perfect carnal backdrop for my coming of age story.
It could be the high point in my on-camera story arc.
Because what could be more alluring than this intrepid middle-aged adventurer stumbling upon the ultimate bacchanalian orgy? Paradise Found, indeed. It’s the mic-drop moment the production team and I have been searching for, and it’s fallen into our laps.
I partnered with Alchemy for a reason that had less to do with its overall offering and more to do with the seemingly safe confines of the Unfurl programme. But the deeper I get, the more the filmmaker in me wants to push the boundaries.
If we’re pursuing a story about sexuality, doesn’t it follow that Alchemy is a natural climax for that story?
And if I’m exploring my sexual hopes and dreams and possibly, just possibly, giving air to my darkest, most carefully hidden fantasies, doesn’t it follow that keeping things nice and safe and choreographed with Cal might not be the apex of my adventure?
That participating, even in the most marginal way, in a full-on orgy might?
I always knew my story would unfold chapter by chapter as I set out to tell it. I was aware that I didn’t know the ending. I still don’t, obviously.
But I know a damn good climax when I see one. Pun intended. And if I’m gonna do this insane thing and put myself out there on television, I’m gonna fucking do it.
I stand by all of the above. Unfortunately, none of it does anything to make me feel like less of a sacrificial lamb.
Weirdly, the only thing that really gives me courage is Cal.
The same Cal who’s asked me a couple times since that team meeting to reconsider.
The Cal who seems stressed as hell that our first time naked together will be at the kind of event he clearly lives for.
Because I have a feeling about this guy. About this beautiful, funny, generous, thoughtful man who I know is only showing me a part of himself. He’s been in mentor mode, and he’s smashed it, and I’m deeply grateful for the care and consideration he’s shown me so far.
But I don’t want to be a pity fuck for him.
He tells me he’s attracted to me, and it seems to be true.
We get along great, and the chemistry between us is smoking.
But I can’t shake the sense that the only time I’ve really seen behind his charming, comedic persona is during those few minutes when he held my head and fucked my mouth with the anguished desperation of a man on the brink.
That’s the guy I want to see more of. That’s what I want for the first time I get fully naked with someone new and let them fuck me.
I don’t want polite, considerate, careful sex.
Jesus, no. I want to put myself in Cal’s hands and I want him to show me what I’ve been missing.
But based on the amount of times he’s apologised for the face fucking he gave me, I’m guessing that’s not what he has in store for me.
Tough shit, because that’s what I want.
* * *
My dress is red.
My lips are red.
And I’m ready for whatever tonight brings.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m terrified. Far more terrified than I was of the PM yesterday (though arguably less terrified than he was of me by the end of our half hour together).
But I have my eye on the prize, and the prize is Cal in a room, naked on top of me, and I’d say that’s a dazzling enough prize to justify the quest.
His texts this week have been less filthy and more logistical than I would’ve liked. He’ll remember something, and start to panic, and shoot me a message when he’s out and about.
Exhibit A:
There’s a cloakroom just inside The Playroom so people can leave their clothes if they want to take anything off
Because they have to be fully clothed in the bar beforehand
And we don’t want anyone’s Chanel or Gucci going missing when it’s been stripped off them
Not that you should remotely expect to take off any of your clothes in The Playroom
I just wanted to mention it in case you were bringing a coat or something
OK I’ll shut up now xx
See what I mean?
He’s been in major Mother Hen mode all week, and I actually feel bad for inflicting this on him, because he has enough on his plate orchestrating this party without me commandeering it for filming purposes.
I console myself with the thought that I’ll have to ensure I make it worth his while.
* * *
When I show up at the club, the bar is already pumping. The music is louder than last time I was here, every single person is masked, and the dress code is far higher octane. The men are mainly in black tie or all black, allowing the women to shine.
And shine they do.
There are sequins everywhere, glorious dresses in silver and gold and red and purple, micro minis and full-length gowns slashed to the navel and the thigh.
Other women are wearing tuxes or corsets with leather pants.
But the real focal point comes from the masks, because they are simply beautiful. Stunning, intricate, and beguiling.
I cast my eyes around the room. Disco balls hang from the chandeliers, casting the room in a constantly rotating glitter bath that bedazzles everyone’s skin.
While some of the masks are classic Venetian in style, others are more modern.
More abstract. Then there are the guys who’ve gone full Ghost Face, which is far hotter than it should be, and even a couple in full-on balaclavas.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I guess I shouldn’t be at all surprised that Alchemy’s guests have interpreted what sounds like a glamorous but innocuous theme in a super kinky way, but I am.
I surreptitiously eye up one of the balaclava guys.
He has a similar build to Cal and is wearing fitted black dress pants with an equally fitted black dress shirt that’s tucked in but opened almost the whole way, revealing a ripped chest.
Jeez, I wonder what kind of stuff Balaclava Guy is planning on getting up to tonight.
He probably has kinks I’ve never even heard of.
Kinks I can’t conceive of. The thought should make me run a mile.
Instead, my skin flushes with heat and a staccato pulse begins to thrum insistently between my legs.
Hold on a sec—he’s coming over.
What—?
Oh, Jesus fuck.
I think it’s Cal.
I’m frozen to the spot, but he keeps coming, walking towards me with what is definitely Cal’s swagger. He has a crystal tumbler of scotch in one hand, and the grotesque mouth hole in his balaclava is large enough to show his lips curving into a smile.
That’s definitely Cal’s smile.
Shit.
He stops in front of me and looks me up and down, openly appraising my body.
‘Well, you look good enough to eat,’ he drawls.
I swallow. Get your shit together, Aida. ‘I thought you said you were wearing a Phantom mask,’ is what I come out with.
‘Changed my mind.’
No shit.
‘Mmm-hmm. I see you’ve gone for terrorist chic instead.’
He grins broadly, and it’s disarming to see his gorgeous smile and crinkling brown eyes under a mask I associate with hardened criminals. ‘I’m not planning on terrorising you tonight. Unless you want me to. Your tits look amazing. That dress is fucking stunning.’
‘I—thank you.’
‘I like your mask. Glad you’ve left your mouth free.
’ He dips his head and kisses my jaw, his warm skin brushing mine as the cheap, nasty fabric of the balaclava scratches me lightly in a way that should be fucking creepy and instead, it seems, is quite the opposite.
It sends delicious danger signals scattering over my skin in the guise of goosebumps.
It sends equally delicious visuals stampeding through my brain.
Cal in that thuggish mask, pushing me to my knees.
Cal, shoving the sumptuous crimson silk of my two-thousand-pound dress around my waist as he forces my legs apart and eats me through that hole.
Fucking hell.
I tilt my head, affording him more access. ‘Looks like you’ve kept your mouth free, too,’ I tell him as he kisses down my neck.
‘Certainly have.’ He nips lightly. ‘Want a drink before we go through?’
Definitely.
I need a drink before we go through.