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2
Laney
Stretchingout in the room before me was the wildest party I’d ever seen. If you could really call it a party, that is. A better term might be ‘orgy’ or ‘kink club gathering’. All I could hear were whimpers and loud kisses. Lips on skin. Sighs and groans. Music with a heavy beat.
I opened the door a tiny bit more to see and hear better, crouching to keep myself hidden behind a tall pink and white floral arrangement which sat close to the entrance, along with a pile of clothes and shoes.
The room wasn’t huge like most of the others in this house, which made sense due to the fact it was on a hidden fourth level—probably somewhere under one of the mansion’s many soaring turrets—but it was lush and decadent all the same. A beautiful hidden paradise.
The wallpaper was dark red with an expanse of gold-trimmed fan patterns overlapping in elaborate combinations. Framed paintings of ancient Greek mythological figures lined those same walls, along with low velvet lounges and more floral arrangements. At the ceiling were strips of gold molding with curlicues at the corners, and the ceiling itself was covered almost entirely with gold leaf.
All around the room, a mixture of black, white, red, pink and gold candles lit the space, casting flickering shadows over the action.
A young woman in a gold thong, matching gold domino mask, and a pink and white rose crown atop her head was dancing to an unfamiliar song close to the center of the space, rolling her hips and flashing inviting smiles at her cheering admirers. A strange object was clasped between her hands—a staff that was shaped like a long-stemmed rose with a snake coiled around it.
Just like the pattern on the door outside.
Not far from the dancing woman and her keen admirers, men in black masks groaned as other women in gold thongs knelt between their legs, taking their cocks in their mouths with wild, gleeful abandon. More couples sat or lay on plush lounges around the edges of the space, kissing and bouncing to the deep rhythmic music as they screwed like bunnies. Others were engaged in kinkier stuff involving cuffs, tasseled little whips, or black studded paddles, and their moans and groans were an unfamiliar mixture of pain and pleasure.
None of these people seemed to have any qualms whatsoever about having sex in front of everyone else in the room.
I kept my hand over my mouth, just in case I accidentally breathed too loudly. I figured most people would’ve noticed that the door was open by now, but everyone at this secretive kink party seemed to be too caught up in the action to register anything beyond their own bodies, or the bodies they were admiring and touching.
It occurred to me then that the men all seemed to be middle-aged or older. Even though most of them wore masks over the middle part of their faces, they couldn’t hide the lines on their necks and foreheads, and many of them also had bits of white or gray in their hair. A few of them were even fully gray.
The women all seemed young. Again, most of them were wearing masks, so it was hard for me to determine an exact age range, but it was obvious from their lean, smooth-skinned bodies with perky breasts and asses that they were younger than the men.
Aside from the masks, the girls also wore rose crowns on their heads, just like the dancing girl in the middle. Some wore eccentric golden tassels on their nipples, and some wore fashionable lingerie. Others were completely naked. The only thing every single one of them had in common was the strange makeup they wore on the visible parts of their faces and bodies.
They were painted with silver and gold markings, and they had tiny faux jewels affixed to their features, too. Their glittering cheekbones made them glow and sparkle like wood nymphs or fairies from a fantasy movie.
I kept observing them from my spot, utterly transfixed as question after question popped up in my muddled brain. What exactly was this party supposed to be? Aside from the obvious, that is. Why were they hiding it in a secret room in the Connery mansion? Who exactly were all these men and women? And… why the hell was a man filming everything?
I’d just spotted him, standing on the far side of the room with a black smart phone tilted sideways. He was slowly moving it around, lips twisted into a smirk as he captured the salacious action. After he’d swept the camera across the whole room and back, he crept closer to a groaning girl and crouched to get a better view of her body as she reached back and spread her ass cheeks wide with her fingertips.
I gulped and moved farther behind the giant floral arrangement in front of me, peeking through a tiny gap in the foliage now. Fortunately, the man with the phone hadn’t noticed me or the open door, just like the others.
Anxiety suddenly gnawed at my stomach as a cold feeling settled over me, and the spinning confusion in my head quickly turned to dread.
Even though I hadn’t been caught up here and explicitly told to get the hell out—at least not yet—I knew I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t invited, and I obviously wasn’t welcome. If these people actually wanted anyone else here, they would’ve left the door to the Rose Room downstairs wide open, along with the swinging bookshelf, and there would’ve been a flashing neon sign saying, ‘Kink party in the hidden room up the spiral stairs. Come and join us!’
It wasn’t just that, either. There was something else happening in my mind, somewhere in its deepest recesses. Even though I was sure I wasn’t witnessing anything illegal, because everyone here seemed willing and happy, I couldn’t shake the dark sense that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I frowned, trying to figure out where this raw, primal fear was coming from, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Perhaps it was simply a sensory overload from being exposed to something so strange compared to my usual life, or maybe I was having a full-on panic attack. I’d suffered from panic attacks before, when I was younger, although they felt different from this—they were more of a gasping, clutching, can’t-breathe-at-all type of experience. Not this cold, hair-raising sense of dread and darkness.
Things could change, though. A doctor once told me that anxiety could manifest in all sorts of ways, even if you were used to it happening another way. Sometimes you wouldn’t even know why it happened. It would just descend upon you, right out of the blue.
That’s gotta be it, then,I told myself. Panic attack. Just breathe and figure out a way to leave this room without being seen or heard….
The order phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket, sending a small jolt through me, and I almost let out a scream before I realized what it was. I slipped it out of my pocket and briefly peeked at the screen. The person who’d ordered the French martinis had finally replied.
Sorry. Got caught up with something. We’re in the Gardenia room!they said.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. This new message meant I was right earlier. I definitely didn’t belong in this mysterious upstairs room, and I only wound up here through a series of flukes.
