Edward signalled a waitress who made her way toward us with remarkable grace as she wound her way through the crowd of gyrating guests with her tray of drinks held steady. His eyes travelled from her black high heels up her long shapely legs, pausing at her tanned thighs before moving up to her brightly painted lips, only to dip back down to her cleavage, which was barely covered by the minuscule French maid costume she was wearing. 

I shifted my weight from one foot to another as the seconds ticked by, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the way he continued to appraise her barely covered body. She didn't seem to mind the attention, in fact, she seemed to welcome it. 

"So, is room service one of the services you offer, darlin'?" he drawled.

She merely smiled and pushed the tray forward. I declined the offered wine with a polite smile and turned to leave, but his arm wrapped around my middle, pulling me tightly into him. 

"Where do you think you're going, my angel? I thought you came here to party?" He grinned as he motioned toward the French maid with his eyes. "Join us upstairs."

My body stiffened against him, heart hammering in my chest as I struggled to loosen his grip on my waist, "I er... I don... I don't think that's a good idea," I stammered. Despite my protestations, I felt a strange warmth spread through me at the prospect of raunchy fun with a vampire and his French maid. It made me feel the appreciation I was craving to receive from Jack. 

"I promised Jack that I would take good care of you. You don't want me breaking that promise, do you?" Shivers ran through me as I felt his tongue dip into my ear and his hand move to cup the side of my breast. 

"I er... ohh don't do that," I replied raggedly as involuntary tingles ran from my ear down my neck. 

"Trisha! What are you..."

"Oh relax Jack, old man. I was just helping your friend here loosen up a little." I rocked unsteadily as Edward's arm fell from my waist, feeling a heated flush spread up from my neck right to my blonde hairline as his wicked grin confirmed that he was fully aware of the effect his touch had on me. 

"Jack!"

Say something, Trish. Anything. Why do moments like these always single me out as their favourite plaything?

All rational thought fled, along with my poise, as I nervously pushed invisible strands of hair from my face while avoiding looking either of them in the eye. To my chagrin I noticed Edward grinning like the Cheshire cat as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, looking every bit the charming gothic vampire, clearly waiting for the fireworks to erupt. 

Even with half his face covered by the red latex devil mask, I could tell that Jack's nostrils were flaring in anger, his lips thinned to a straight line as his cold eyes bore into me. "Let's dance." He grabbed my hand before I could reply, pulling me onto the crowded dance floor and wrapping his arm tightly around my waist, his other hand gripping my neck.

I looked around for the first time since we'd arrived, noticing the costumes around us. A clown whisked a giggling princess past us, a pregnant nun swayed her hips seductively across from Frankenstein, and Little Red Riding hood struggled to balance her basket while rocking with someone dressed as a condom. I had never seen as many outlandish costumes in one place before, and found myself smiling despite the contemptuous tone of the man hissing into my ear.

 "Not only do you come here dressed as a fucking whore, but you also act like it." 

"It's not what it..." 

There was a faint vibration against my hip just before he shoved me back and dug his phone out of his pocket. "Hello." He listened intently, then turned; I followed his gaze as he waved to a man across the room dressed as an Arab sheikh who was talking on his cellphone. "Yes, I will be there." He turned back to me, his eyes seeming softer as he stroked my arm, and sighed. "I will only be a minute. Wait for me over there." He pointed toward a candlelit alcove decked out with tables and chairs.

▼▲▼

She stood in the archway looking like a lost doe in need of shelter for the night, her gaze moving around the alcove, taking in whatever the gloom permitted. For the briefest of moments, I felt her look directly at me, even though I realized that there was no way she could've seen me in the deep shadows with none of the candles lit. The air around her rippled with the weight of her sigh as she sat down at a nearby table, even in the dark I could see the slight tremble pass through her hunched form.

Her perfume was a subtle blend of sunflowers, a vaguely familiar scent that invaded my senses and wreaked havoc with my libido.

What is it about this girl that excites me so? I have to find a way to get her attention without startling her.

I lit the cigarette I'd been considering lighting all evening and took a long well-earned drag, holding it inside for a few seconds before blowing out the plume of white smoke through my daintily painted red lips. It was working, her body stiffened slightly and her head turned; I lifted the slim black filter tip to my lips and took another drag, white puffs of smoke curling inches from her. I shifted my position so the light of the candle could reach me mere seconds before she turned toward me, obviously startled by the discovery that she wasn't alone.

▼▲▼

It was hard to take in the décor with most of the candles not lit; casting the edges of the small space into deep darkness, yet there was an air of tranquillity to the dimly lit nook. I sat down at a table half-hidden in shadow, my pulse still racing as the night's events played itself over in my head. Jack had always been quick to anger, especially when he had a big deal on the table. He had undergone a major shift in personality as well as temperament in the last few months. I barely got to see the man who had wooed me and won my heart with his charm anymore. Lately, it felt like I was tumbling headfirst into an abyss of uncertainty whenever I contemplated spending the rest of my life with the man who had proposed to me on a beach by spelling "MARRY ME TRISHA" out of seashells in the sand a year ago. Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to imagine the outburst that was to come once he arrived back there to meet me.

Movement at an adjacent table startled me; I turned and squinted to see into the gloomy shadows. All I could make out was the shape of what looked like a woman sitting with her back to the wall at the next table; I smelled the cigarette smoke before I saw the puffs of white blown out through ruby red lips. "Hiding? Or are you dying for a smoke too?" came a husky male voice. He leaned forward to extend a hand covered up to his elbows in black lace gloves as he offered me a cigarette from a silver cigarette case.

▼▲▼

"Waiting on my er... my er... boyfriend. I don't smoke, thank you." Her voice trembled as she shook her head, her expression one of quiet apology.

What did she have to be apologetic about? Or was she just nervous? Was I making her nervous?

"You sound like you should." I grabbed the vodka and cigarette case and moved to her table, settling down across from her, cigarette bobbing between my lips as I squinted against the smoke. I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes widened with surprise, yet her smile seemed warm and sincere; for the first time that evening, I regretted my costume, feeling suddenly self-conscious of my attire, or rather my lack of attire.

"I... I do?"

"Your er... er... boyfriend, eh?" I asked, ignoring her question. The crotch of my corset tightened uncomfortably and rode painfully up my ass as I crossed my legs, I had to fight down my groan of discomfort.

Fuck! Oh, fuck that hurt. Just be cool, boy... can't be embarrassing yourself now.

I smiled when I should've been wincing; gritting my teeth as I casually tapped my ash into a glass.

"Yes, he is doing some business here tonight. He asked me to wait in here for him. I don't mind waiting." Her words were belied by her soft sigh and the tension in her shoulders – her beautiful shoulders. I had to restrain myself from reaching out and running my fingers along the graceful line of her neck down to her bare shoulder.

"Honey, would you like my advice?"

Dump that ass-kissing sack of shit and allow me to show you how a real man treats his woman.

She shook her head, staring wistfully out at the ballroom. "No, not really."

"Good. I'm as bad at giving advice as I am at sucking dick. Here, have a drink instead."

Damn! Talk about dodging a bullet. How are you in a position to give anyone relationship advice, Jer?

I passed her the vodka and what I hoped was a clean glass I'd found on a nearby table. "Actually, I take that back, I'm fucking amazing at sucking dick." Her laughter was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, melodious and genuine. Pretty damn cliché, but true.

Great! I'd bet that laughter means she's picturing me with another man's dick in my mouth. Fucking idiot! Shut up while you're behind.

I took a deep swig of vodka to calm the unbearable throbbing in my groin. Let me tell you, it isn't much fun getting a hard-on with your junk pulled back with duct tape. 

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