Behind The Masque...
Put on a mask and live your fantasies. Strip your control, revel in power, let go of truth or live your darkest dreams. For this one night, your wild side shines through. For this one night, this masquerade is you.
Excerpt from Amethyst Moon by Fiona Jayde
Chapter One
With her breasts pushed up and her waist tucked into a ball gown, Gia waited. At least her feet were happy in a pair of sneakers instead of killer high heels. The long black dress she wore was made especially for her—once you relieved someone of their sparkles, sneakers and stretchy pants covered by the removable skirt were as necessary as gloves and wire cutters.
The abundance of sparkles didn’t interest her tonight. These weren’t the glittering society types with their fake breasts and Clorox smiles. The ball was a benefit for Breast Cancer research, complete with pale, cherry colored tablecloths and tiny mementos of pink sapphires for the attending guests.
She’d stuck the pin onto the ribbon at her waist and marveled at the irony. They’d given a thief jewels. Fate was one funny bitch.
Aside from that, she was nervous. The fluttering in her belly was normal before a job, but this raw case of anticipation and nerves was odd and the excitement accompanying it didn’t help.
Shadow was meeting her. And he had Scott Bastien’s face. After months of secretly fantasizing about him, after months of small talk and mild flirting, after all the attempts to speak to him once she realized he was Shadow, she finally had his attention.
Scott Bastien, owner of IntelSecurities, protected the rich sheep he used to target before he angled onto the straight path. And she, Gia Solletti, had broken into his vault and stolen from the thief they’d once called Shadow.
She wasn’t sure why she’d only taken the amethyst. Hooked to a plain silver chain, the clear stone with its endless facets was larger than her thumb and belonged on a grand necklace around a beautiful throat. And if it were, she’d probably steal it again, if only to take a closer look.
The warmth of the gem pulsed between her breasts even as she told herself she couldn’t keep it. She’d gladly give it back to Bastien for half a mil and a consulting job at IntelSecurities. He could, of course, turn her over to Interpol. Gia had no doubt he would attempt to do just that after getting the amethyst back. But there was a small matter of gossip. Imagine, Angia wanted to play a little prank and was able to break into the man’s private vault! A few words in the right ears would finish him—his firm would never provide security to another glittering function. She’d still be in jail—but he’d be ruined.
The thrill of danger made her shiver. She wasn’t meeting him as society’s darling. She was meeting him as his equal. She was meeting him as an accomplished thief finally ready to retire.
She would help the rich and bored keep their treasures out of reach from the likes of… well, her. Same money, less roof climbing.
The stone heated again. She wasn’t the fanciful type, but she could swear it throbbed with some sort of energy, warming then cooling against her skin. The long dangles of Grandmere’s earrings—a surprising match for the amethyst—seemed to echo its warmth as they brushed her neck while she walked around increasingly amorous couples.
She wondered what it was doing in Shadow’s vault. Sentimental in his old age? The idea made her snicker. Maybe it had been the only job he’d botched. Thinking about it, she tripped on the damned long skirt. She yanked, exposing her sneakers, too late realizing that a woman tucked in a murderously red gown was smiling at her.
Shit, had she seen?
Gia frowned as the woman sent her a wink before turning back to the man next to her. The heat between those two was almost palatable. She sighed with just a bit of longing. Some relished passion. She preferred the cool, smooth surface of stones.
The one between her breasts heated more as she sensed someone behind her.
Shadow. Scott.
She turned, forcing herself to keep the movement casual. Her pulse hammered in her throat.
Masked, just like her, in simple black silk. The stone pulsed at her skin as she sized him—tall, broad, gorgeous with his lean face and lush lips against a granite jaw. Too wide in the shoulder for a profession that needed speed more then muscle. Somehow, this close, those shoulders seemed bigger then she remembered.
“Angel.” His voice was smooth and mocking.
The game was on.
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Vapor by Sheri Livingston
Chapter One
Ashley moved through the crowded ballroom, a wisp of white satin amongst the men in their starched black tuxedos and the women in their bright, glamorous gowns.
Her gaze landed on a lady wedged against a circular column, her beau sucking and nipping at her neck like a hungry vampire and she gulped.
Hiding her shock, Ashley turned away, scared she’d see way more than she bargained for. She almost collided with another couple who seemed to be just as sex craved, their lips locked as they danced at the edge of the dance floor.
My God, what kind of charity ball is this, anyway?
Her best friend, Danielle, hadn’t given her any indication this thing would practically be an orgy. Or, had she? She said this event would be like no other; that something very special would happen tonight. Had she foreseen public sex, women and men acting like love struck teenagers? Surely not.
“Go!” Danielle had opened her closet door. “Lose control for one freaking night, why don’tcha’? You’re only thirty-four and you live like a damn hermit, sitting in this big ‘ole house all alone, night after night, pecking on that freaking keyboard. Ain’t no one gettin’ any pussy but your damn lesbian characters.”
Danielle took a hefty gulp of her strawberry Daiquiri and stared at the pitiful selection of clothing. “I dare you to go have one, do you hear me, just one fucking night of fun, hot, unadulterated, secret sex!”
Ashley blinked back her best friend’s pleas, scooted around the oblivious couple, and approached the bar. The bartender dragged his gaze away from another couple lip-locked at the far end of the counter. The expression he shot her announced he wasn’t happy about her diverting his attention from the free show.
She ordered a rum and coke and gave him a free token, which he tossed into a basket. Turning away from her in complete dismissal, his sights weaved over the crowd before landing on the couple very close to needing a room.
Dear God, is everyone drugged in this place?
She took a casual stare down at her glass, half expecting to see white foam dissolving in the center. There wasn’t.
With as much grace as she could muster, she wove her way back through the crowd, noticing more couples along her path, all who seemed to be in some state of sexual fog, hands groping, mouths sealed.
While she searched for an empty table, her gaze fell on a woman and man who weren’t so free with their display of fondness.
The man stared down at her as if she were a t-bone steak. Against her ample cleavage, squeezing over the top of her black top, rested a purple stone penetrating with light. It glowed, then dimmed, as if life rested in its core. Ashley gazed down the woman’s dress to a pair of white sneakers. She stifled a smile as the amethyst brightened, pulling her sights back to its magic.
Ashley found herself enthralled, staring at the throbbing brightness. Was it real? Or some kind of costume jewelry she hadn’t heard of?
Either way, it drew the man’s attention like a magnet, casting the same hypnotic sensation on Ashley.
A couple bumped into her, almost spilling Ashley’s drink.
She scowled as they skirted around her, parting the crowd as they rushed toward the exit.
With a grunt, she found an empty table, sat down, and crossed her legs.
She restlessly shifted, watching the sheer tattered strips of her white satin dress slip off her knees. She arched her foot in the air, loving the snug fit of the white-ribbon stilettos climbing her legs, crossing over her shins, tied in a single delicate knot at her lower calf. She smiled as she remembered where she’d discreetly hidden the pink sapphire ribbon the hostess had given her in the lobby. Would anyone get the chance to see it, to remove it?
Isn’t that what she was here for? Even if it was a dare that pushed her to the charity ball?
The dress was a big change from her normal everyday attire of frumpy over-sized t-shirts and snug blue jeans.
She made a mental note to remember the exact way the material of her dress caressed her skin, the way it revealed a tantalizing peek of her upper thighs as she moved her legs. Descriptions were important. Her readers depended on them to bring the words to life, to add color to the black and white pages of her creations.
With a sigh, she let her leg fall back over the other, and glanced around the crowded room. What was she doing here, really? Rarely did anyone meet their knight in shining armor in surroundings like these. Or, in her case, a warrior princess in tight fittin’ jeans.
Not that she was looking for Ms. Right. She’d already met her, fucked her, then ran like the coward she was. That story was a closed book now, literally. Nor was she too proud to say she’d found love at first sight, even if she didn’t know her name, and had felt it clawing its way to the surface of her soul. It might be a myth to some, but she knew the truth. It was real. And it was gone.
She sipped her drink and watched as women glided across the dance floor, the strobes of light catching their gems and sequins, held tight in the arms of their dates. They didn’t seem caught up in whatever aura floated around the couples sucking face and fondling each other.
Lord, again, why had she come here tonight?
Danielle. That’s why. She thought Ashley would balk at the dare.
Well, she came, she saw, she watched. Wasn’t that good enough to say she’d attended? All she wanted right now was to get the hell out of Dodge and back to the unfinished pages of her current book. Didn’t she have an editor tapping her email every other day, reminding a deadline fast approached?
Besides, isn’t that where she got her rush, in the very tales she created? The characters left her breathless as she unfolded their lives. She carried them through their conflicts and black moments, to their peaks and fireworks and, of course, the happily ever after climax.
This ballroom filled with swishing, colorful gowns and starch-stiff tuxedos wasn’t giving her a damn thing, not a single spark of interest for a new plotline, and sure as hell wasn’t helping her find a night of mind-blowing sex. However, by the looks of it, a few couples would be banging the headboards very soon.
What the hell was she thinking letting Danielle, the wannabe cupid of romance, as well as brilliant suspense author, talk her into this? Ashley should have thrown her invitation in the trash where it belonged, or better, made Danielle cancel her book signing to attend with her.
Ashley would give anything to be with her right now, smiling up at her fans from her card table as she autographed her newest release. Damn, there wasn’t anything in the world like having lesbians, fems, butches, and hardcore dykes, eagerly wait for her John Hancock, some who let her know quickly they wanted more than just a copy of her imaginations, though she never took them up on their flirting.
Well, except for one. Ms. Right.
A smile tugged her lips at the memory. God, how long ago had that been? Two years? Three? Right here in this very town.
Before she was at the top of the best seller’s list, that’s how long.
She’d been a newbie, still climbing the rungs of success, shoving her manuscripts into agent’s hands, the ones pretending to give lesbian erotic romance a shot in the dark.
When the big dogs continued to sadly shake their heads in dismissal of her work, she set out to make her own name sparkle, deciding to self-publish her own book, and schedule her first book signing.
There her mystery woman had been, eyes full of want, holding her book like a prized possession.
Please remember that 100% of net proceeds will go directly to breastcancer.org
Todays drink:
In honor of Sheri today drink...Crown and Coke.
After all, what's a Ball if it doesn't have a queen?
Cheers!
