Afire Love

NIVEA PERSPECTIVE

"I found myself in an unconventional position, one unlike any 'job' I had taken on before. Then again, desperation for money had a way of making me overlook the need for specific details. The opportunity presented itself as a last-minute gig offered by Valerie-slinging champagne and canapés at a masked costume party. Little did I know that my roommate was secretly involved in organising these eccentric masquerade events for the wealthiest, and perhaps the kinkiest, individuals in Manhattan, New York.

As I pondered this revelation, a distinguished gentleman with snowy hair made a grand entrance down the spacious hallway. His elaborate peacock mask added an air of mystery, and he was flanked by a pair of buxom young ladies, each clinging to one of his saggy arms. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the trio wordlessly paused, allowing the ladies to lean in and share a passionate kiss. Their masks, intricately crafted from sparkly black Chantilly lace, added a touch of glamour to the scene.

In the flickering glow of the low candlelight, the girls' flawless curves seemed to dance, accentuated by the sultry ambiance.

Valerie used her keycard to discreetly open an employee door, allowing us to slip inside before we attracted any attention. Despite being masked, we were instructed to remain inconspicuous, avoiding the gaze of party guests unless actively serving them or engaged in conversation. Adherence to these guidelines was just one of the numerous rules that the 'service staff' had to comply with to ensure compensation for our services. Signing an extensive nondisclosure agreement, resembling a chapter book, was another prerequisite for a single night of temporary employment. Nonetheless, the allure of earning twelve hundred dollars for the evening made me throw caution and care to the wind.

Abiding by the rules of unusual party regulations meant that I could now afford more than just a diet of ramen and oranges for the entire month. The employee corridor, the most unembellished section of the luxurious mansion, served as a welcome retreat. This escape was particularly necessary, considering the extravagance that unfolded within the Castlerock estate.

Notwithstanding the mansion's live music and the captivating performance of a nude ribbon-wrapped stripper dancing above the pool, the hallway for the workers looked very different. The fancy clothes of the guests and the unique masks they wore, made from all sorts of materials and colours, added to the beauty of the faraway estate. From the special guests to the luxurious inside, everything in Castlerock seemed magnificent.

It was a temple of luxe debauchery for the ungodly privileged.

Another waiter scuttled past us with a tray full of heavenly-smelling appetisers to make my stomach growl. Thankfully, the gurgle in my belly was overpowered by a woman's cry of ecstasy.

"Omigosh!" I gasped at the sexual sounds reverberating through the concrete wall. "Did you hear that?"

"Shhh, quiet, you prude! You're going to get us fired!" Valerie hissed, tossing me a cheeky wink. "We're not supposed to talk about what we see or hear on the clock, remember?"

"But-!" I sputtered.

Another husky moan penetrated the wall as a spirited thumping started up from the other side.

"C'mon, Nivea!" Valerie urged as her steps quickened. "It's just a job; ignore it. Got it?"

Muted grunts and muffled wails filled the cramped hall as we tried our best to ignore the erogenous sounds of other people's pleasure. Even more shocking was the occasional rattle of chains or the distant crack of (what I think was) a whip!

"How did you find this job again?" I whispered as loud as I dared.

The titillating sounds were winding their way into my ears and arousing more than my curiosities. Heat flushed my whole body, working its way to my cheeks and warming the inside of my mask.

"Mike," she shrugged her petite shoulders, grazing the tip of her blunt blonde ponytail. "He used to work with the hosts or something like that. Just be grateful you're not serving upstairs."

"Why? What's-?" I muttered into the empty circular tray I had clasped to my chest to hide the pinch of my nipples. "Never mind."

The narrow hallway ended abruptly at a door with no handle. Valerie waved her thin grey keycard over a cubed screen to make it retract into the wall, revealing a bustling kitchen inside.

"So, what if it's a little Eyes Wide Shut? You can't argue with the paycheck!" She shouted over the clatter and clang of activity. "Am I right?"

She had no idea how right she was. I needed the unorthodox paycheck as much as I needed to stop thinking about other people having sex.

Carefully, we steered through stations of cooks prepping the delicacies on our trays. Blades glinted and flames flared as servers poured in and out of the whirlwind.

I peeled off from Valerie and made a beeline for the bronze armbands.

Your armband denoted the floor you served. Since she'd been working these sexy soirees longer, Valerie got to prowl the second floor, where gold armbands and the most elite of the upper crust were allowed.

Bronze stuck to the ground floor only (another of the rules clearly stated in our contract).

With a fresh platter of crab-stuffed mushrooms balanced on my arm, I found my best friend in the bedlam.

"Want to go out after this and get a drink of our own?" She asked as soon as we were safely inside another hall full of horny sounds.

"You're not going to Mike's anymore?" I broached the subject as lightly as possible. They were on and off so much that you'd think she was dating a light switch. "I can't; I've got work tomorrow."

"That was Mike's excuse too," Valerie said, rolling her bright blue eyes inside her mask. "I swear, Nivea, it's like you're allergic to fun."

I didn't retort. All evidence to the contrary, I liked fun. I just didn't have the time (or the disposable budget) for it.

"I'm sorry, Valerie," I murmured. "I know you were looking forward to seeing him tonight."

"Oh, please! It's fine," she scoffed like it was no biggie when really, we both knew better. This was typical of Mike, and it drove her batshit crazy. "At least he's willing to go out on his days off. Unlike some people, I live with."

I kept my attention on her tray while she threw me the stink eye.

"Look!" I sighed. We were inches from the door that would take us back to the party, and yet, so far from the escape I desperately needed,. "After tonight, I could probably afford to go out next week. One time though, OK?"

"Wha-at?" Valerie blurted, stopping altogether.

So, of course, I slammed into my bestie's backend.

"Watch out!" I squeaked, wobbling to hold onto my tray. "Geez! You were almost wearing these mushroom caps."

"And you almost gave me a coronary!" Valerie howled as she activated the door to step into the modern, gallery-like decor of the west-wing hallway. "Girl, I don't think you've done anything resembling fun in years!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I'd be divorced before I turned twenty-one," I muttered (not to mention drowning in someone else's mistakes). "That doesn't mean I want my terrible life choices announced out loud."

Echoing laughter danced with a seductive remix of classical music as we stepped into the opulent hallway.

"Oh, goodness!" To my dismay, Valerie wasn't finished. "Nivea, we need to schedule a shopping trip for that bush waxing! And girl, do you realise the last time we went out, you had a fake ID?"

Attempting to hush Valerie, our conversation was abruptly halted by a more pressing issue than the chaos of my personal life.

"Shhhh!" The sharp reprimand caught us both off guard, causing us to pivot in our sensible shoes. "Could you keep it down?"

The woman overseeing us, a striking blonde named Karen, lowered her handheld butterfly mask to shoot us a disapproving scowl. While that alone could have left me melting to the floor, a peculiar sensation interrupted.

A feeling of intuition gave me a curious sensation, starting at the bottom of my spine and shooting up like a firecracker. It was as if I could sense my fate shifting just before I met the stranger's intense and threatening gaze.

CHRISTAIN'S PERSPECTIVE

There's a saying attributed to a wise man that claims the most challenging aspect of life is self-discovery. Frankly, I call that hogwash. Figuring out who you are isn't the hard part; it's navigating the tumultuous journey of coexisting with yourself that delivers the real sucker punch.

At the age of thirty-six, my unapologetic existence was composed of relentless work and unparalleled privileges. The fruits of my hard-earned success translated into a lifestyle akin to that of a contemporary monarch. My brothers and I revelled in every conceivable pleasure because, well, why the hell not?

Last year, on a whim, I went 'halfsies' with my younger brother Shawn to buy an NFL team-purely because he harboured a lifelong desire to party with Tom Brady. As far as I can recall, it turned out to be one hell of a party. The only downside? I had to part ways with my Gulfstream because Shawn couldn't rid the leather of that lingering emu odour.

Interestingly enough, our foray into hosting erotic masquerade parties was born out of a wager among the three of us. One evening, as we played billiards, I laid down a bet with Wade and Shawn, asserting that we could rake in a fortune by hosting exclusive BDSM gatherings for our uptight acquaintances. Little did we know that this gamble would plunge us into a world of decadence and desire, where the boundaries between pleasure and business blurred with each masked reveller that crossed our opulent threshold.

I argued that those old rich perverts would pay through the nose to get on the guest list as long as we kept our events strictly anonymous, we charged by the head, and the party was classy as fuck. It's sort of like an exclusive club for men and women who want to explore their darkest fantasies in a safe (and sanitized) environment.

Being the entrepreneurial deviants they are, my brothers went all in, and we've been raking in millions from our sexy side hustle ever since.

Even our father (much as we hated him) would've been proud of what we'd managed to build out of his ashes. Not that anything we did was with that impossible fantasy in mind, and not that he would have said as much.

Our old man was only capable of caring about himself and whatever sweet young thing caught his eye. Mom looked the other way because she chose to see the good in others, especially her own family. It was arguably her worst, and best, quality.

We understood from a young age that the Bart dynasty was like a hydra, a multi-headed monster growing stronger with each new generation. And much like the mythical beast, our blood was so virulent that we managed to taint all that we touched, including relationships.

Which is why I didn't do them. Relationships, that is.

For me, our iniquitous masquerade parties offered exactly what I needed. A chance to get my rocks off on the regular without having to go through the soul-crushing motions of pretending.

Personally, I'm not one for pretence. Wading through the incredibly shallow dating pool of our inner circle took interest and patience (and time) that, frankly, I didn't have.

I've never lost my head over a woman, and I've sure as shit never been in love because it's a myth. A chemical farce masquerading as temporary insanity.

Perhaps that's because I'm a realist. Or maybe it's because I'm old enough to remember when my parents cared enough to try and save what was left of their sham marriage.

Of course, their relationship eventually decayed into toxic indifference, which suffocated any affection (or empathy) they still had for one another.

By the time my brothers were big enough to crawl, all of us were walking on eggshells. By the time I graduated high school, we had lived through one of the most contentious divorce settlements ever documented in New York. And by the time our grandfather realised how far our dad had run his company into the ground with his boozing and his bad deals, it was too late.

We almost lost everything, except the people that mattered most.

My mom never remarried or did anything resembling dating after that. Instead, she focused on her family and her children and getting our lives back on track.

Our grandfather, much like my father, never embraced retirement. He dedicated himself to salvaging what remained of Bart Enterprises, working tirelessly until a major heart attack struck him down in his office.

During that challenging period, I uncovered my purpose. I comprehended the immense effort and commitment required to revive our grandfather's legacy and restore our family's tarnished reputation. My mission became clear: to erase the stain of my father's transgressions, reclaim what was rightfully ours, and rebuild from the ashes.

In this endeavour, I acknowledged that cultivating a romantic relationship would only serve as an impediment to my goals. As the eldest, I recognised the responsibility of being the unwavering support my younger siblings relied on-a beacon of integrity sorely absent in our biological father.

This isn't to say that I didn't engage in youthful indiscretions. In my earlier years, I was a curious young man with a variety of burgeoning appetites that needed satiating. However, I remained unattached, refrained from leading women on, and never obscured the truth about my identity.

Every one of my partners knew my romantic limitations upfront.

Some called me cold-hearted. Others deemed me cruel. A few were even foolish enough to try and change my mind (or lock me down). None were successful.

That's because I'm as dominant in the bedroom as I am in the boardroom.

I have to be.

Eat or be eaten. It's the law of the jungle, right? We were raised knowing that, win or lose, there is no draw. It's all a game of give and take, but to a man like me, it's a ruthless takeover.

At least, that's what I told myself.

Then that young seductress waltzed into my world and upended everything.

A few seconds was all it took to make me question the dogma that drove my every decision.

Fuck me, I could've gone another lifetime without the gut punch of her toothy smile.

She was a breath of fresh air, like walking in springtime. A hidden hope amongst the devils and demons with which I routinely dwell. A misguided shot at salvation none of us deserved, least of all me.

In other words, she was everything I never knew I wanted and the last thing I fucking needed.

Especially not after her friend's crass comment about waxing her pussy.

Jesus! Imagining the natural wonder between her peaches-and-cream thighs was going to keep my dick hard for the foreseeable future.

Then there was the way she nibbled on the swell of her puffy bottom lip when Karen caught them gossiping like a couple of schoolgirls.

I couldn't afford any distractions. Not now, and not ever.

So how in the hell did a stranger in a mask see straight through me? I swear, she saw right down to my rotten core. She saw past my hard-ass exterior and my intimidatingly large portfolio, surrounding me like a suit of armour.

I'm pretty sure she saw down to the cracks in my foundation. To my anguish, I've compartmentalised and buried myself in the recesses of my memory. To the things, I keep locked away because I have to.

She saw the real me, and it left me shit-scared. Our eyes locked, and I lost my damn mind.

She had no business being that beautiful in a mask. She and that bombshell body that no man (or woman, for that matter) could ignore.

She had no right to recognise the deepest parts of my pain so quickly.

And what the fuck was with her eyes? The iridescent greenish-blue of her irises shifted and shimmered like a mirage under the bland hallway lights.

I didn't even know the woman, and it was like she had my head and my chest (not to mention my balls) in a goddamn vice.

It also took far too long for me to realise that I was still ogling her like one of the lecherous billionaires I counted as some of my closest friends and enemies alike.

NIVEA'S PERSPECTIVE

My chest constricted, wrenching a startled gasp from my lips. While Karen teetered on the brink of spontaneous combustion, it was the imposing figure, dark and commanding, that almost sent me reeling.

The mysterious stranger's unwavering focus possessed an enthralling yet unsettling allure. Amidst the surrounding chaos, he stood motionless, emanating raw power that flowed off his broad shoulders in unrelenting waves. Unperturbed by the unfolding commotion, he maintained a laser-sharp concentration.

His dark mask with a wolf design didn't hide the strong presence he exuded, along with the intense and ominous look in his eyes. Interestingly, the powerfully dressed man's focused gaze was directly on me.

I remained ignorant of his identity and the potential cause of his displeasure. The realization struck when the pulsating beats of the music and the ambient chatter of the crowd were replaced by an oppressive silence. It felt as if he had twisted my thoughts and tangled my tongue into inescapable knots, while the irregular thudding of my heart reverberated fiercely behind my eyes.

My mind urgently urged my hands to reach for my inhaler, but they remained unresponsive. It was as if my entire body had shut down, panic surging up my constricted throat, drowning out any trace of rational thought. The rush of blood thundered between my ears, amplifying the overwhelming sense of dread.

In a fleeting moment that stretched into what felt like an eternity, the intense gaze that had ensnared me finally released its grip, turning towards the lively party. Suddenly, a brief respite allowed me to recall the simple act of breathing. The music flooded back into my ears, and I inhaled deeply, attempting to steady my heart, which raced with palpable intensity. However, my moment of relief was short-lived, as Karen's quietly seething reprimand pierced through the soundscape.

"What in the actual hell is wrong with you?" Karen hissed at Valerie, her frustration cutting through the air like a knife. My hand instinctively sought the comfort of the inhaler that I habitually kept within arm's reach.

"I'm so sorry, Karen," Valerie pleaded urgently. "It won't happen again! I swear!"

Valerie's hurried apology echoed in my ears, and that strange feeling started again along my spine. It felt like a tingling buzz at the back of my head. It happened right as Valerie's words turned into a weird noise in my mind, making me uneasy with the sense that something more than what I could see was happening.

As if guided by an unseen force, my eyes, against my better judgment, involuntarily returned to the enigmatic gentleman. Yet, to my bewilderment, he was nowhere to be found. The powerful stranger had seemingly vanished into thin air.

"Keep your apologies; I've had enough of you two," Karen declared haughtily. "You're fired!"

A wave of irrational grief washed over me, extinguishing the sparks that the heated gaze of the impeccably tailored suit had ignited on my skin.

"Hey!" Karen snapped her fingers inches from my face. "Are you even aware of what is going on?"

I tuned our irate boss back in.

"Both of you need to get off the main floor, now!" Karen's bright blue eyes looked me up and down in disdain. "You're done."

I wasn't aware of what was going on, really, but I was after that!

Karen swished the long, shiny train of her designer mermaid dress as she walked away, putting her mask back on just in time to greet a group of guests entering the hallway.

"That bitch!" Valerie spat while I processed the news. "I can't believe she just did that!"

"Me either." My heart rate was falling along with my hopes for a more comfortable month. "C'mon, let's go."

I was already scraping by, living paycheck-to-paycheck. Now, it seemed I wouldn't even have the means to afford the cup of coffee essential for staying alert during my shift at my day job, which loomed less than ten hours away. Preserving employment was crucial, considering it was the only income source I had.

The threat of losing my position at the garage loomed heavily, leaving me with no alternative means to meet the relentless barrage of bills or escape the persistent reminders from my bank about overdue payments. Valerie, with her usual audacity, activated the employee door, providing us with a discreet exit.

"Hey!" I protested when I felt her swipe a couple of mushroom caps from my tray. "Cut it out!"

"What are they going to do?" Valerie chuckled between bites of partially chewed food. "Fire us? Come on, Nivea, indulge for once."

Unable to resist temptation, I seized one mushroom cap and popped it into my mouth before my inner resolve could intervene.

"Whoa!" Valerie observed my momentary rebellion with a mischievous grin. "Feels good to let loose, huh?"

The bite melted in my mouth, igniting my taste buds with a delightful array of sensations. I savoured the freshness of snow crab, so tender and sweet it resembled a candied cloud, intertwined with savoury herbs and a hint of horseradish that left me yearning for another.

Valerie took a third, and then a fourth.

"Do it!" She goaded, curling her lips into a wicked smirk. "You know you want to!"

"Screw it," I mumbled, taking another and stuffing my guilt into the back of my throat.

I groaned and took my time with that mouthful, enjoying the different regions of my tongue and reacting to the most flavorful thing I'd eaten in a long time.

"Jesus, Nivea, take it easy!" Val hooted. "We should get a room! Let's sneak upstairs!"

"Are you nuts?" I covered my mouth to keep from spraying her with masticated food. "You heard Karen. We're done, so we need to leave. Hey!"

It was no use.

I was yelling at Valerie's butt after she dropped her tray of oysters and ran. I'm not entirely sure why, but I kept my tray balanced on my arm and jogged after her.

"Val!" I hissed as loud as I dared over the salacious sounds of the hallway. "Come on! This isn't funny! We could get caught!"

"So?" She countered over her shoulder. "Nobody knows Karen fired us yet, and Mike showed me a couple of the super-secret passageways in the walls. They'll never even know we're here! You have to see what these rich perverts get into up there. It's like Caligula!"

My cheeks burned with the heat of my lungs (and my curiosity) as I tried to keep up with Valerie.

Most people assume that my asthma limits me from sports or physical activity because of my hellish attacks, but they're wrong. According to my doctors, my anxiety actually triggered the excruciating choking fits that labelled me a 'freak' before fifth grade (and forced me to carry an inhaler everywhere I went).

"Valerie! Wait!" I huffed unsuccessfully, gulping to save most of my air for movement.

Keeping up with a former high school track star like my bestie was pointless. She was about to get us in way worse trouble, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it.

Valerie zagged around a corner and sprinted for a distant door up a gradual incline while I slowed to yank my inhaler from my pocket. The quick puff of medication opened up my airway almost immediately to keep me from keeling over.

"Two minutes, then I swear we'll jet!" Valerie sang from too far away. "You at least need to see the gimp hanging from the chain-link spiderweb!"

I couldn't even process what she'd said for fear of choking on the spot.