Monica knows Quinn's surprise plans for New Year's Eve are at a secret supper club and that she's only supposed to wear the new lingerie Quinn just bought for her. Good thing he hasn't seen the outfit hiding under her coat yet. She's got to have one advantage going into this since all other details are still a mystery. Keeping an open mind, she's just hoping she has the nerve to bare her bod and flaunt the very beautiful, very expensive french lace covering her body.
(from chapter "December 31 - Saturday")
The black sedan really doesn’t drive far, stopping in front of a large loft a few blocks away. They walk into a small foyer where they’re greeted by an overly attractive staff entirely outfitted in black and white waiter’s attire, but with a few twists. The women wear lacy little white aprons over tiny black skirts that either fail to cover their bottoms or are just long enough to reveal their garters and black fishnets. Their white button up shirts are tight and unbuttoned to reveal black bras underneath. The men wear tailored shirts and slacks, clearly all having great bodies stewing beneath. The kicker that makes Monica laugh is that every staff member is wearing a mask and a bowtie. Most are solid black satin, but one woman’s mask is flaunting flame red feathers that look like a flowing fire as she walks.
So Eyes Wide Shut.
“Hello,” a handsome twenty-something man says. “Welcome. Can I take your coats?”
Monica hesitates. “Can I wear a mask as well?”
“If it makes you feel good, yes,” he says in a sensual tone. A masked waitress passing by nods at his response and gives a reassuring smile.
Monica pulls out the mask in her pocket and the waitress starts to tie it on. Her fingers brush Monica’s ears slowly before she snaps a snug knot. The jolt makes her earrings swing, tickling her neck and increasing her growing arousal. Whoa, we haven’t even gone inside and I’m wet.
“Did that mask come from the shop?” Quinn asks.
She smiles before loosening her belt and takes notice of the other people starting to filter into the loft. There are a few couples in very formal attire, alluring cleavage everywhere, and another odd couple in some sort of leather fetish wear. The sexual energy in the room is intense and contagious. Monica opens her coat and allows the waitress to peel it from her shoulders. Her fingers slowly trace the entire length of her arms.
Holy shit! Quinn’s eyes flare when he sees her. His jaw clinches scanning her head to toe, knowing he isn’t the only one looking at her divine curves. He whispers, “I’ve never been more turned on in my life. I can’t breathe.”
She looks into his eyes framed through her mask, and sees shades of blue fluttering with his pulse and his breathing is heavy and intense.
“Exquisite,” the waitress says. She hands the coat to the young man.
“Absolutely,” he says.
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