Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (6 page)

 
    
He couldn’t wait to see Virginia in it.

 
    
Just as he’d planned the evening’s details,
he’d thought long and hard about what she should wear over the sexy lingerie.
Something short, tight, and slinky?

 
    
Virginia was elegant, classy, far above the
hooker look. He’d purchased her attire accordingly.

 
    
The shower had stopped five minutes ago.
Everything was laid out on the bed in readiness for her. Brett sat in the chair
to wait.

 
    
After what seemed like an eternity but was
probably only another five minutes, the bathroom door opened, and she stepped
out amid a cloud of steam and perfumed lotion. A towel draped her from the
swell of her breasts to the tops of her thighs.

 
    
Scenting her like a lion with his mate in
heat, Brett wondered if he could actually wait to have her until they returned
from The Sex Club.

* * * * *

 
    
“Aren’t you going to take a shower and get
dressed?”

 
    
Brett sat in the overstuffed chair next to
the closet. He shook his head slowly, his eyes an enigmatic bottomless blue.

 
    
Then he pointed to the bed. “I bought you
something new to wear for tonight.”

 
    
What looked like a classic black cocktail
dress lay across the foot of the bed, a pile of lacy underthings next to it.

 
    
“You didn’t have to do that.”

 
    
“I wanted to.”

 
    
Brett had never been one for buying her
things, sticking to birthdays and holidays, which was how she liked it.
Receiving expensive gifts would have made her uncomfortable, as if she was a
woman who could be bought by high-priced trinkets. She’d never married for
money, and she didn’t want anyone to think she was the kind of woman who did.
Especially not Brett.

 
    
But this showed real effort. He must have
checked her size, right down to the dainty strappy sandals on the carpet.

 
    
“It’s beautiful.” The dress was black
velvet, soft beneath her fingers. She was touched.

 
    
Then she thought she was having an attack
her heart pounded so hard. Her breath choked off in her throat.

 
    
An envelope lay on top of all the pretty
lingerie. A cream-colored envelope with curlicue font spelling out the name
Regina.

 
    
“I was there.” He was beside her, a warm
presence.

 
    
She turned. “Brett, I—”

 
    
He covered her lips with his fingers. “You
don’t need to explain. Just indulge yourself.”

 
    
She searched his eyes for something. A
spark of spite. Condemnation. There was only the same warmth as when he’d told
her to put her parents’ china wherever she wanted. And beneath that, a flare of
heat equal to that when he’d opened his robe on the terrace and began stroking
his cock.

 
    
He leaned forward, sucked her lower lip
into his mouth, then kissed her hard. Finally he whispered, “Think of it as an
invitation to pleasure. Get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

 
    
Then he backed away. She was still staring
at the envelope when she heard the front door of the condo close.

 
    
She’d gone to a sex club, for God’s sake,
and he actually encouraged her to go again. He’d bought beautiful clothes for
her to wear, and he’d said he’d be waiting for her.

 
    
Virginia was suddenly dying to explore a
few more of Brett’s hidden depths.

* * * * *

 
    
The dress was sexy yet elegant. A scooped
cowl neck draped her bosom, revealing nothing unless she leaned too far
forward, yet it offered the promise of what lay beneath the velvet. Sexy and
decadent. Only Brett would know about the lace-trimmed openings of the bra
through which her nipples fit perfectly. The subtle shift of the holes with her
every movement made her feel as if a warm mouth sucked at her constantly.

 
    
He’d provided a garter belt and stockings
but no panties. Her pussy was bare beneath the elegant velvet dress, wet before
she even stepped through the doors of The Sex Club.

 
    
Brett had created a fantasy for her. How
sweet. Maybe a little strange, but somehow the atmosphere at the club bothered
her less than his seduction on the terrace. He was giving her a kinky fantasy,
nothing more.

 
    
Being later in the evening than she and the
girls had arrived last week, and also perhaps because it was Saturday night,
she had to wait in line to submit her invitation. A waiter, dressed in a black
tuxedo, offered her champagne to sip as the line moved forward. Tonight,
everyone dressed as if they were attending a black-and-white ball.

 
    
Virginia smiled to herself, wondering how
the men were going to find their way beneath the long ball gowns. Her dress was
cocktail short, the full skirt resting midthigh. Brett wouldn’t have any
trouble finding the tops of her stockings.

 
    
Her turn, but when she handed over the
envelope, she was given another in return and told to open it as she stood at
the bottom of the stairs.

 
    
Formal skirts brushed her legs as she set
her champagne on a table and moved aside to read Brett’s instructions. A hand
lightly caressed her bottom, but when she turned, a sea of faces floated by.
Anyone could have touched her.

 
    
A key fell out of the envelope into her
hand, and the accompanying note was written in Brett’s neat script.

 
    
“Up the stairs to the third floor, turn
right, and enter the fourth room on the left.”

 
    
The third floor. The private rooms. Stacy
had told her about them.

 
    
She floated up the stairs with the crowd.
Unlike last Friday night, she didn’t notice anyone having sex in the halls or
the alcoves, just couples in their fancy dress.

 
    
Unable to contain her curiosity, she tapped
a woman on the shoulder. “Is there a party I didn’t hear about?”

 
    
The woman laughed beneath heavy makeup
applied to hide her age, which had to be over fifty. Her skin was a tad too
yellow against the whiteness of her dress. “Oh my dear, it’s the Swingers Ball.
Every dance, you have to partner with someone new, and it can’t be the person
you came with.”

 
    
Virginia raised a brow. “You just dance?”

 
    
“Now that’s a foolish question, dear. This
is
a particular kind of club, you know.”
She brushed a hand down her abdomen to the skirt of her ball gown. A slit had
been fashioned up the center almost to her pubic hair.

 
    
“Of course.” Virginia kept a straight face.
“Silly of me.”

 
    
“And there’s a prize at the end of the
ball. It goes to the couple who...” She paused, smiled, then winked at
Virginia. “To the couple who enjoyed the most partners. After every...dance you
collect your partner’s card.” It sounded like some sort of tag team wrestling
match. “Don’t you think it’s a divine idea?”

 
    
The woman delved into her evening bag and
pulled out a gold card holder filled with turquoise cards, the number
sixty-three printed on them. The stack must have been at least thirty deep.

 
    
“The couple with the most cards at the end
of the night wins a Hawaiian vacation.”

 
    
For that much activity, the couple deserved
a six-month trip around the world. The candy dishes filled with condoms, which
were all over the club, would certainly need refilling often.

 
    
Virginia realized now why the line in the
lobby had been so long. Everyone was getting their numbered cards.

 
    
Did Brett have a set of cards for her
upstairs?

 
    
She hoped not. The Swingers Ball seemed
so...impersonal. She’d be one of at least sixty-three, and probably double that
number by the feel of the crowd. That certainly wouldn’t make a woman feel
special. How could a man have a chance to want any one woman desperately if he
had to work his way through every female in sight?

 
    
No, no, no. The Swingers Ball wasn’t for
her. And obviously not for Brett either. He’d ordered a private room.

 
    
And she needed to get up to it right now.

 
    
“Good luck.” Despite the peculiar
circumstances, she smiled as politely as possible at her informant. Then she
climbed the second flight of stairs and left the crowd behind, though the
voices, the merriment, and the strains of a waltz drifted up from below as she
reached the third floor.

 
    
Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to see what
Brett had planned just for her indulgence. Oddly, knowing what would occur in
the ballroom enhanced her private surprise party.

 
    
She fumbled at the door, got the key in,
then rushed into...an empty room.

 
    
Where was Brett?

 
    
The room was done in soft gold tones. A
king-size bed stood on a pedestal in the middle, with two steps up. On the
left, four steps up, was a sunken tub, steam wafting off its surface. The
mirror behind it tilted slightly to reveal a froth of bubbles in its
reflection. A bucket held an uncorked bottle of champagne, and on the table
beside it, a glass had already been filled. Cheese and fruit graced a crystal
platter along with strawberries dipped in chocolate. All within reach of the
bath.

 
    
On the corner of the porcelain tub sat
another envelope. Stepping up, she saw that this time the note had an
instruction on the outside.

 
    
“Indulge yourself, take your pleasure, then
open the envelope when you’re done with your bath.”

 
    
She tingled with anticipation. Turning back
to the room, she noticed the mirror along one wall. It reflected the bed and
beyond that, the tub. The room and the mirror were designed to produce the
maximum view. Someone was behind that mirror, which she was sure was two-way.
Maybe more than one someone.

 
    
Brett was giving her what she’d had last
Friday all over again. But this time with more luxury.

 
    
Her heart beat faster. He’d chosen what he
thought would most tantalize her. His actions the night of their wedding now
made perfect sense.

 
    
Brett had masturbated for her. He’d asked
her to do the same. Instead of freaking out like a normal husband would over
the knowledge that she’d performed for a crowd at a sex club, Brett condoned
and encouraged with his every action. The man had a delicious streak of
kinkiness she could never have imagined.

 
    
Virginia suddenly wanted to drive him wild,
and she’d do it by driving herself wild.

 
    
First, a striptease. Her back to the
mirror, she unzipped the dress slowly, exposing herself to her audience inch by
inch. A chair sat by the door ready to receive her cast-off clothing. She
tossed the dress, then stretched her arms over her head, naked but for the lacy
underthings he’d bought her.

 
    
Then she turned. God, she looked hot. She
saw what he saw, the tight beads of her nipples burgeoning from the black bra,
the blond thatch between her thighs, the stockings’ lace borders flirting with
her curls, and the garter belt high on her hips.

 
    
She palmed her breasts, plumping them for
the mirror, then stuck one finger in her mouth. Circling first one nipple, then
the other, the peaks ached. Moisture coated her inner thighs, and her clitoris
throbbed. She slid a hand over her belly to her mound but didn’t slip inside to
caress herself.