Each year, I attend the Masquerade Ball, a huge party that attracts elite people in the area. We could be sure of the most exquisite food and wine imaginable. The costumes were phenomenal, with an exuberant array of varying style.
This was my year to titillate the guests. For once, I wanted all eyes on me so I didn't just blend in with the wallpaper as I had done the last several years. Often times, my clients viewed me as a nerdy college grad. But this year would be different. Even though nobody would ever really know that I was behind the mask, it would give me great satisfaction knowing that I was the queen of the ball.
I chose a unique outfit, suitable for my long, slender figure. It was a sheer black silky-textured dress, held together by a thick belt tied around my waist, and decorated with simulated diamonds throughout. At the top of the dress, was a gem-studded collar similar to a choker, while below the collar, the bodice opened up into a revealing front, exposing modest cleavage, before dipping down below my navel where one tiny little button held the left and right sides together. The bottom portion of the dress was slit right up the middle to my crotch, revealing my thigh highs and lace panties when I walked.
To complete my composition, I applied a generous amount of ivory powder to my face, then traced my eyes with a thin line of liquid black eyeliner and deepened my long eyelashes with a thick coat of mascara. A smudge of dark gray and onyx eyeshadows gave my eyes a smoky cast. Rosy red rouge accentuated my naturally contoured cheekbones and crimson lipstick offset my amazing smile. To complete the ensemble, I donned a jet-black wig, with tiny, spiraled curls that cascaded down to my hips. Even if I didn't have the mask to hide my face, nobody would ever recognize me. I only wore make-up on special occasions, and never to work.
I admired myself in the mirror, pulling the lower opening of the dress back to appreciate my freshly shaved body, then letting it fall back into place. The black dress fit my body like a glove, emphasizing my curves in all the right places. Heads would turn when I walked into the mansion this evening.
I grabbed the hand-held mask from my dresser and slid on my black heels before whisking out the door. John, my limousine driver, stood outside waiting patiently. As I exited the old home, I could see that my appearance knocked him on his ass, so to speak. His mouth dropped open and his eyes popped out of his head as he just stood there. I gazed into his eyes and asked if he was planning on gawking at me all night, or perhaps he could open the door, as he was being paid to do.
Struggling to regain his composure, he fumbled for the door. I slid into the seat and waited for him to drive away. Finally, John made his way into the limo and began to drive. I'm amazed that he didn't wreck the car because his eyes didn't appear to be on the road at all. I considered giving him a show, but decided to wait until after the party to fuck him without a time limit. John and I enjoy a wonderful no-strings relationship. Whenever either of us felt frisky and was alone, we could go to the other for a bit of pleasure. Yet, we were still both free to pursue other interests. Yes, indeed, John would be able to savor my succulent body later.
I sat back in the car, imagining John off duty in his tight leather pants and vest. He knew it was my favorite outfit and that I became more aroused when he wore the vest without a shirt underneath, exposing his shaved chest and smooth washboard stomach. He was much taller than I and could easily crush me with his muscular arms, but was always gentle, yet firm with his embrace. Occasionally, he would throw his earring in for me to play with as I teased his ear with my tongue. He had a direct channel of nerves from his ear to his modest cock; the more I teased his ear, the more aroused he became.
Laughter broke my reverie, announcing we had arrived at the end of a long, winding drive, stopping in front of the home. I could see a steady stream of people walking in. John pulled up in front of the main entrance, walked around to open my door and took my hand, helping me from the limo. Just as I had predicted, all eyes were on me with my sexy little outfit. I walked seductively into the mansion, carefully holding the mask to my face. I don't think anyone realized who I was, which was fine by me. The more mysterious I remained, the more excited I became.
Once inside the beautiful palace, I worked my way over to the bar and was handed a glass of champagne. "Thank you," I said to the bartender in a deep, raspy, seductive voice. I had been taking voice lessons for years and fluctuated my tone to a near replica of Kathleen Turner's erotic melody. I can't say for sure, but I swear the bartender was a tad turned on. Several people standing within earshot overheard us and stopped chatting, turning their attention to me. I could feel myself becoming more aroused as their eyes penetrated my body. But, I had to keep myself under control, for John would certainly be expecting me to be hot and ready for him when we got back home.
I slid away from the bar and meandered over to the ballroom. Upon entering the doorway, once again, heads turned. I spotted several clients of mine, very prestigious lawyers, standing near the band. As I waltzed over to them, Jackson, an older gentleman in his mid-fifties, literally stopped talking in mid-sentence, his jaw dropped wide. I brushed up against his arm and introduced myself as "Felicia."
