When nine o'clock rolled around, she grabbed a cab. On her way there she told herself that if the party wasn't her scene, all she had to do was turn around and leave. She could do this. Get in, get out, don't cause trouble. Don't reveal herself and whatever she did, no contact with Lennon. None.
The cab dropped her off, and she paid her driver. It took her a couple seconds to work up the courage to step out and climb the stairs of the black-and-white three-story townhouse. Through the door she could hear the sounds of music and laughter and the usual party revelry going on inside. Before she knocked she tried the knob and found the door unlocked. As quickly and quietly as she could, Ivy stepped inside.
Oh.
Oh…
Oh, no.
Lennon hadn't been exaggerating. It really was one of those kinds of parties.
Everywhere she looked she saw couples coupling. Kissing in doorways, draped over each other on sofas and in the room to the left, some sort of sitting room, she saw a woman kneeling on her hands and knees on a coffee table while a man in a dark three-piece suit and devil horns fucked her from behind. They weren't alone in the room, not at all. People stood around watching, cheering. Someone even held a stopwatch in his hand. Cash was scattered on the table around the woman's hands and knees. From what Ivy could tell it was a contest and The Devil was contestant number two. The previous contestant had fucked the woman twelve minutes and sixteen seconds before coming. The current contestant just fucked his way past the ten minute mark. Someone in the crowd said they were neck in neck. Someone else said they were cock in cock.
Ivy stared, mesmerized by the scene. It was porn—beautiful, erotic, playful live porn—and she couldn't look away. Her nipples tightened under her low-cut dress and her pussy swelled at the sight of the woman taking the cock so casually in a room of a dozen people. Ivy flushed and felt herself growing wet, and her vagina clenched at nothing, wanting something inside it.
"Want to play?" came an accented voice from behind her. She turned and saw the man who'd spoken. He wore a military-style long coat, white shirt open at the collar, plus breeches and Hessian boots polished to a high shine. He was impossibly handsome, with shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair and a wolfish gleam in his dark eyes.
"I…no. Just watching," she said.
"I shouldn't play anyway," he said with a dramatic sigh. "I always win. Hardly fair, is it?" He lifted her hand to his lips at if to kiss the back of it. Instead he flipped her hand over and pressed his lips to the center of her palm. With a wink he walked away, no doubt seeking out more amenable prey.
Ivy turned to leave and came face to bare chest with a man wearing nothing but leather pants. Nothing. Not even shoes. He had shaggy hair, brown skin and a wicked smile. She felt a sudden pang of attraction to him.
"Oh, sorry," she said. "I—"
"You must be new," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
"I'm very new. Very, very new."
"We like newbies around here." He cupped her chin. "Tell me what you want, and I'll make sure you get it."
Ivy opened her mouth, closed it, then saw Lennon striding down the hallway toward the front door. He wasn't dressed nearly as oddly as everyone else at the party. He had on black trousers, a black vest, and a white shirt with the cuffs rolled to his elbows. His only nod to the party atmosphere was the black mask he wore over his eyes. Impossible not to know it was him, however. Not with that smile and that salt-and-pepper hair.
"Him," Ivy whispered. "I want him."
"You sure about that?" the man in the leather pants asked. She couldn't believe she'd spoken her wish aloud.
"I am."
"Then kiss me."
Ivy kissed the stranger and found his mouth warm and his lips skillful. She'd been so busy with work for Lennon she hadn't gone on a date in six months. Whoever this man was, she didn't know, but she also didn't care. He had big hands that felt good on her waist, and a girl needed kissing sometimes. Even by a stranger.
And then Ivy was off her feet. Entirely, completely and totally off her feet, being carried over the man's shoulder.
"Oh my God," she said, and the man heard her.
"I'm a firefighter in real life," he said, slapping her on the ass. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
"Glad one of us does."
"Come on, man," he said as he carried her into a room. "I caught something for you."
"Aw, you shouldn't have, Jack." Ivy recognized Lennon's voice.
"You've had a hard week. You've earned some fun."
So this was Jack, Lennon's kinky friend who dragged him to parties? Is this something they did together? Share women? Ivy wanted to be jealous if it was, but instead she found the prospect arousing, the thought of being passed back and forth between them.
Ivy gripped the sofa cushion hard and tried to get her bearings. She was in a room, a very nice but small room with antique furniture like out of Pride & Prejudice or something. Door closed. No lights on but for the fire burning in the fireplace. No bed. Fireplace with an ornate, dark-wood mantel and a low fire burning. Other than the couch she and Jack sat on, there was one armchair across from them and a huge steamer trunk that acted as a coffee table. Lennon sat in the chair and held his wine glass lightly between his fingertips. He was watching her.
"This is how it works," Jack was saying as he slowly eased her panties down her legs. "Since you're new…I do whatever I want to do to you and you say 'Red' when and if you want me to stop. And what I want to do to you is fuck you while my friend watches. Then he will do whatever he wants to do you. He won't be nearly as gentle with you as I will. Yes? No? Red?"
Ivy glanced at Lennon, who grinned at Jack's warning.
She was scared, her heart pounding, her blood pumping so hard in her ears it sounded like the roar of an ocean.
"Yes."
She whispered the word so Lennon couldn't recognize her voice. But Jack heard.
"Good answer," he said, and casually unzipped his pants to pull out his cock.
He reached for a condom from the bowl of them on the steamer trunk. She couldn't believe this was happening as he stroked himself to his full hardness and rolled on the condom so matter-of-factly he could have been tying his shoes if he'd been wearing any.
"You can say 'Red' anytime," Lennon said from his armchair. "We're big boys. We have self-control."
Ivy nodded her understanding, taking comfort in his words. It made it easier when Jack pushed her legs wide open. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lennon leaning forward, lifting his chin to see her better. Since she'd gotten a full wax yesterday, she knew he could see everything—her open labia, her clitoris, her wetness—and it aroused her even more to know Lennon was seeing her body without even knowing it was hers. Jack inserted his index finger into her and rubbed along the walls of her vagina.
"New and eager," Jack said with a dirty grin, clearly impressed by how wet she was. She realized quickly he wasn't talking to her, but Lennon. "I'll open her up for you. You finish her off. Sound like a plan?"
Lennon answered, "A perfect plan."