The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica. Volume 3

The VIP Room by Nicholas Kaufmann

Flickering oil lamps lined the perimeter of the lake, suspended from wrought-iron stands and casting a radiant glow on the dark water. A welcome breeze eased the warm summer night’s air, and the glassy stillness was pierced only by the gurgling wakes of plastic paddle boats.

“This was a great idea,” Anna said as they paddled their small boat toward the center of the lake. “It’s so romantic here.”

“God bless the Quick City Parks Department,” Mark replied. “We should have saved this for our anniversary.”

“They only keep the boat pond open this late on weekends.”

“Still,” he said, “it’s only two weeks away, and this will be hard to top.”

Anna took his hand in hers and kissed it right above the wedding ring. “I know you’ll come up with a great surprise. You always do.”

“No pressure,” Mark said, laughing.

Anna looked at him for a moment, then pointed over to one of the small, wooded islands that dotted the shimmering lake. “Let’s go over there.”

Behind the low trees of the island, they stopped the paddle boat and floated in place. Before Mark could say anything, Anna leaned across the low plastic hump that separated their seats in the boat and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft, and she felt herself melting against him when he put his hands on her face, the tips of his fingers pressing against her dark blonde hair.

It felt like their lips were meeting for the first time, their tongues touching like long-separated lovers, and she felt a delicious tingle flutter through her.

She finally pulled away from him, leaned back against the low bulwark behind her and reached for the top button of her white blouse. She undid it, then the next and the next, all the way down to her black cotton pants. Anna gently pulled the front of the blouse open.

The day had been stiflingly hot and, in order to keep cool, she’d decided not to wear a bra under her top. All through dinner, Anna found herself getting more and more turned on, knowing she was completely nude under the weave of her blouse, and delighting in the feel of the silky smooth material against the tips of her nipples. She spent so much time fantasizing about surprising Mark at the lake, and about what she wanted to do to him, that she had to restrain herself from sticking her foot up his pant leg at the table.

Mark grinned and twisted to see if any of the other boats were around. He could see some on the other side of the island, through the dark cluster of trees and shrubs, but they were far away.

“Do you think they’ll see us?” he whispered.

“Let them,” Anna said, stretching and lifting her arms above her head. “Let them look.” She let her hands fall to her chest, slowly working their way down to cup her small, pointed breasts. She could feel the skin of her nipples bunching together, becoming erect. She kept her eyes on Mark the whole time.

Anna let her hands continue their journey downward, sliding along her ribcage and grazing over the flat plain of her belly. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again.

“Let’s make them jealous,” Mark said.

Anna pushed him backward, and reached down into his lap. She took the tag of his zipper between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it down. The stark white of his cotton briefs bulged out of the fly. Putting her hands on Mark’s leg, she leaned down and ran her tongue over the jutting cloth of his underwear. The bulge began to grow, and she heard Mark utter that strange noise he always made, something between a gasp and a sigh. She could smell the meaty scent of his arousal as the tender flesh expanded and stiffened under her tongue.

Mark ran his fingers through her hair, and another tingle thrilled through her. She reached through the crowded fly of his pants, pulled his briefs down, and tasted his warm, salty skin against the insides of her cheeks and on her tongue.

From her position, she couldn’t look up at his face, or look into his eyes the way she liked to when she was going down on him. In her mind, she pictured his expression: eyes closed, neck tilted back, mouth hanging open.

In Mark’s mind, with his eyes closed, it wasn’t Anna using her mouth on him. It was Arianna, the boss’s secretary at work. She had light brown hair, dark eyes and a body to die for. Mark imagined them in the copy room at the back of the office.

Arianna was on her knees, her full, round tits bared through her open blouse, her back against the Xerox machine. Mark stood in front of her, his hands deep in her thick, long hair, his pants around his ankles, thrusting his cock into her mouth so hard that her head was tapping against the copier.

He began thrusting harder in the boat, too, his fingers tightening their grip in Anna’s hair, bucking his hips up off the plastic seat and driving deeper into her mouth. The climax pulled him apart inside, then snapped him back together. Mark, grunting, felt Anna try to pull away. Still gripping her hair, he held Anna’s head down in his lap.

The way he wanted to with Arianna.

There were only two people Mark considered himself close to at work: Geoff and Tony. Every day at two-thirty they would take a coffee break together in the small conference room near their desks. The ritual never varied: Geoff drank from the grey mug, and Tony from the marbled black one. Mark couldn’t stand using the same mug every day. Today it was blue.

“It’s getting bad,” Geoff said. “The way you look at her whenever she walks by.”

Mark swallowed and put his empty mug on the table. “Is it that obvious?”

Geoff and Tony both laughed.

“Everyone’s got the hots for Arianna,” Tony said.

“But you’re a married man,” Geoff added.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mark said. “I think about sex constantly, and with all these other women. It’s like I need it all the time.”

“You’re a man,” Tony said. “We do need sex all the time.”

Mark shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s like I’m wired differently from everyone else. All my life I had a problem with monogamy. I cheated on whoever I was with, because I couldn’t stand the idea of all those women out there that I couldn’t have. I don’t want to cheat on Anna. She’s great; she’s the best I’ve ever been with.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s eyebrow arched up.

“She’s always game. She’s up for anything, but she can barely keep up with me.”

“She’s your wife now,” Geoff said, frowning. “Cheating on your wife is a whole new ballgame.”

Mark took a deep breath. “I’m keeping it in my fantasies.”

“Good,” Geoff said. “There’s a price on your relationship with Anna, you know. You ever cheat on her, you better make sure the price is worth it. It better be something worth losing her for. Because you will lose her.”

Later, Tony asked Mark to come to his desk for a moment, there was something he wanted to show him. Tony sat in his chair and started flipping through his Rolodex.

“Geoff is full of shit,” Tony said. “Not everything is so black and white.”

“Geoff’s affair cost him his marriage,” Mark replied. “What he said makes sense.”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe. Ah, here it is!” He pulled a bright yellow business card out of the Rolodex and handed it to Mark:

WORLD’S LONGEST CONTINUING

ADULT CELEBRATION

The Aphrodite Club. Est. 1866. Safe. Private. Discreet.

Couples only. Must be over 21. Call for more information.

“What the hell is this?” Mark asked.

“You gotta check it out,” Tony said, leaning back in his chair and grinning. “It’s basically a high-class orgy. It’s amazing.”

“I don’t know,” Mark said, looking at the card again.

Tony leaned forward. “Listen, you’re a red-blooded American man. You have certain needs that the rules of monogamy won’t let you meet. So, this is the best of both worlds. You go there with your wife, you stay with your wife, but you’re surrounded by all these other beautiful, naked women that you can look at. It’s like a real-life porn movie. And believe me, Anna won’t be upset about all the other women. She’ll be turned on. You both will.”

“You’ve been there?” Mark asked.

“I told you, it’s amazing. Listen, you said your fifth anniversary’s coming up, and you’ve been looking for something special to do with her, right? Well, here you go.”

Mark looked at the card again.

“Keep it,” Tony said.

Mark sat at his desk, absently tapping the card in his fingers. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea for Anna’s anniversary surprise. Provided, of course, he could talk Anna into doing something like this.

But would it really take that much effort? One of the things that originally attracted him to Anna, and kept him attracted to her after all these years, was her sense of sexual adventure. The escapade at the boat pond was proof of that, and it wasn’t the only time.

It was only their second date, with both of them drunk at a local bar, when she went down on him in the women’s bathroom, her mouth wet and cold from all the beer. Angry patrons banged on the door, trying to get in, demanding to know what was taking so long, and neither Mark nor Anna cared. She let him come in her mouth, and then she spat it into the sink. Their second date, for God’s sake! How could he not have fallen in love with her?

Just then, Arianna walked past his desk, flashing him a bright smile. She wore a tight black outfit, clearly defining that gorgeous body underneath. It was too tight for her to be wearing a bra, and Mark was sure he could see her erect nipples poking against the tight black top.

He smiled back, and when she was gone he let his breath out slowly. He didn’t want to cheat on Anna. He didn’t want to hurt her, or lose her. But the fantasy of Arianna’s head tapping against the Xerox machine was turning him on again.

Maybe the Aphrodite Club would be just the thing he needed to simultaneously appease and exorcise the feelings that fought inside him. Maybe the thought of Arianna sucking him off in the copy room would pale in comparison to what he and Anna would see and do at the club.

He picked up the telephone, and pressed nine for an outside line.

Mark worked from home the next day. Anna was away at her office, and Mark was checking his work e-mail when the doorman buzzed from downstairs to say a messenger was coming up.

Mark opened the door, expecting to see some kid with dreadlocks and a bicycle helmet standing in the hallway, holding a battered manila envelope. Instead, Mark found himself almost unable to speak, his jaw frozen open for an eternal moment.

She stood in the outside hallway with the luminous poise of some ancient Greek statue of a goddess, carved with care and grace from a single slab of marble. Long dark hair framed a face of finely etched features and piercing dark eyes, then continued cascading down to touch the spaghetti straps of the tight red dress that hugged the generous curves of her slender body.

She held out a brown leather folder sealed with a gold magnetic snap.

“Thanks,” Mark said, finally finding his voice. Her finger grazed his hand as he took the folder from her, and it was like electricity running through his body, sizzling through every limb until it ultimately surged into his loins and stayed there.

She smiled and turned wordlessly to walk away. Mark’s eyes traveled down the creamy skin exposed by her open-back dress, down to the provocative swell of her ass.

“Wait,” Mark called after her. He couldn’t let her go, not yet. He just needed one more look. “Do I have to sign for this?”

She turned back to him, her exquisite lips parting to draw breath. “No, Mr Wagner,” she said in a silky voice. “That won’t be necessary.”

Back at his desk, Mark ignored the waiting e-mails on his computer screen, and opened the folder. The leather was soft in his hands, and the gold snap came apart with a satisfying click. Inside was a thin, perfectly bound booklet with crisp white covers, announcing:

WELCOME TO THE WORLD’S LONGEST

CONTINUING ADULT CELEBRATION

WELCOME TO THE APHRODITE CLUB

The booklet offered a brief history of the club, with large black text and plenty of pictures of the club’s interior and the various important people who visited throughout its history; impressive names like Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, Hugh Hefner, Marilyn Chambers.

The Aphrodite Club has been continuously open for business and attended by maximum capacity crowds since its inception in 1866.

Founded by a small group of anonymous Greek investors interested in exploring the sensual side of adult life in a safe and responsible environment, and without interference from society’s stifling rules, the Aphrodite Club instantly became Quick City’s best-kept secret.

Today, the club continues in that same spirit.

The Aphrodite Club is designed for couples – or more – only. All are welcome in our luxurious and sanitary surroundings. The rules of society do not apply here, but rest assured, the Aphrodite Club maintains the strictest policies of safety and privacy.

Call soon to make your reservations!

Mark looked in the folder again. There was nothing else, no certificates of age verification, no questionnaires, not even directions on how to get to the club.

He checked his watch. Anna would be coming home in about twenty minutes. Mark took a deep breath, then called the Aphrodite Club.

The woman on the phone said they didn’t have any reservations available for the next two months. Mark’s heart practically sank out of his body. He’d gotten so excited by the prospect of taking Anna to the club on their anniversary that he hadn’t even considered they might be fully booked that night.

And there was something else feeding his disappointment, something unexpected: the woman who delivered the package. She didn’t look like an ordinary messenger; no, she was involved in the club somehow. He wanted to see her again, and the thought of laying eyes on her once more in the erotically charged environs of the club was almost more than he could handle.

“I was really hoping we could get in,” Mark explained, trying to remain calm. “It’s our fifth wedding anniversary, and -”

“Please hold,” the woman interrupted.

A moment later, another woman’s voice came on, a familiar silky voice that said, “No problem, Mr Wagner. We’ll see you then.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat.

“It’s you,” he breathed into the phone before he could think better of it. “You came by my apartment.”

How did she get back there so fast? he wondered.

“Will you be there?” he continued. “At the club, that night?”

“I’m always here, Mr Wagner.”

“Mark, call me Mark.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying, but he didn’t want to stop himself, either. This was all too exciting to be checked.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Mark.”

“Me, too.” In the reflection of his computer monitor, Mark could see the stupid grin on his face. “What’s your name?”

“I’m called Priestess.”

“Priestess,” Mark said. “I like that.” His mind flooded with fantasies of ancient cults of women-priests in sheer flowing robes, naked women tied to stone altars and struggling against their bonds, frenzied lesbian orgies in honour of their goddess…

“Admission is paid at the door,” Priestess continued. “Three hundred dollars, cash. A copy of the directions to the club will be faxed to you right away.”

“Let me give you my fax number,” Mark said.

“That won’t be necessary, Mark. Have a pleasant evening.”

A moment after Mark hung up the phone, the fax machine started ringing.

That night, with Anna sweating and grinding on top of him in bed, Mark closed his eyes and pictured Priestess.

He lunged deeper into Anna, and in his mind his fingers were unhooking the red spaghetti straps of Priestess’s dress, and letting the material peel slowly away from her naked body.

Then it was Priestess on top of him, not Anna, moaning as he pushed into her, kissing her slender neck and her beautiful, round, pink-tipped breasts.

“Oh, Mark, yes!” Priestess cried, arching her back and shuddering in orgasm. “Yes!”

And then it was Arianna, taking him in her mouth and sucking so hard her head tapped against the Xerox machine behind her.

“I love the way you taste,” Arianna said.

“No!” Priestess was on top of him again, riding him hard. “Me! There’s only me!”

He grunted, exploding inside her.

Screeching tyres… shattering glass… rending metal… the smell of gasoline…

Mark gasped and opened his eyes, disoriented. His whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Anna was staring down at him.

“Mark, are you OK?”

“You didn’t hear?” Geoff asked the next morning at work.

“Hear what?” Mark asked.

“Arianna,” Geoff said. “She was driving home last night, and there was an accident. She’s dead.”

Mark stood frozen, his eyes staring off at nothing, his heart pounding.

“Mark, are you OK?”

The next Saturday was perfect beach weather. Mark and Anna decided to take the train over to Long Island and spend the day in the surf. The beach was crowded, and they were lucky enough to find a place to lay their towels without complaining that their spot was closer to the surrounding woods than to the ocean itself.

Mark looked around as they rested after a swim. Anna was reading a book and Mark, having neglected to bring anything, resorted to people-watching.

Once he spotted the woman in the yellow bikini walking on the sand, he was suddenly glad he’d forgotten his book. She had a perfect tan, and sun-bleached hair that blew behind her in the breeze. Her eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses, but Mark could still see her high cheekbones, thin nose and perfect mouth, highlighted by the dark birthmark near the corner of her upper lip. And her body; he hadn’t seen a body like that outside of swimsuit models. She was slender and well toned, the muscles of her tight abdomen glistening in the hot sun, and she generously filled out both the top and bottom of her skimpy yellow bikini.

And then she was gone, lost in the crowds.

Mark let his breath out slowly. He turned to look at Anna – reclining in her blue bikini, the water from the ocean rolling in thin streams off her body – and thought he was going to burst. She met his eyes over the top of her paperback, and smiled.

They disappeared into the woods, deep enough to avoid exposure. Anna slipped off her tight blue bikini bottom, and bent herself over a thick fallen tree. Mark lingered, looking at the dark tangle of her wet pubic hair, smelling the thick scent of her arousal through the salty sea water that still clung to her skin, and listening to the desire in her voice when she said, “I want you inside me.”

He slid easily into her, hunching over her back and kissing the nape of her neck. Mark’s hands glided along her smooth, wet skin, up her sides and around to her chest, cupping her breasts, the wet material of her blue bikini top crushing under his palms.

His hands undid the clasp of the yellow bikini top as he embraced and kissed the woman from the beach, letting their tongues swirl around each other like snakes. The top fell silently to the forest floor.

Her tits were perfect, mashing against him, her nipples so hard he could feel them pressing into his chest. He kissed her neck and, moving down her body, kissed the hollow between her collar bones and, finally, held those big, beautiful breasts in his hands and sucked at them until she gasped.

He spun her around and bent her over a fallen tree, tearing off the yellow bikini bottom and giving her the fuck of her life.

Mark pulled Anna’s blue bikini top off her shoulders and slid it down to her waist, then caressed her small, bare breasts from behind.

The woman from the beach cried, “I’m coming!” and trembled against him.

And then she was gone.

Priestess was bent over beneath him, moving her heart-shaped ass back and forth against his pelvis and moaning orgasmically. She twisted around to look at him, ran a warm hand over his chest and said, “There’s only me.”

He closed his eyes tight as he came inside her.

Rushing darkness… bursting lungs… no air…

Mark gasped, shaking and sweating, unable to remember where he was. Anna straightened, letting him slide back out of her. She turned around and looked at him, touching his arm in concern.

“Mark? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Mark shook himself again. He was burning under his skin. “I must be coming down with something.”

It was a small news story, buried deep in the last pages of the Quick City Sentinel. A local woman drowned at a Long Island beach over the weekend, apparently caught by a fierce undertow and pulled under before anyone could help.

There was a picture of the victim, a photograph from her modeling portfolio. She had sun-bleached hair, a beautiful smile, and a birthmark by the corner of her upper lip.

Mark did everything he could to convince himself it wasn’t the same woman he saw in the yellow bikini, the woman he fantasized about. It had to be a coincidence.

Mark straightened his tie as he followed Anna out of the taxi. It was nine o’clock, the summer sun had set just half an hour ago, and the sky was darkening quickly. He could tell the smile on Anna’s face was fixed there by sheer will; she wasn’t happy being in this kind of neighbourhood after dark, especially on their anniversary.

The street was lined with rows of dingy tenement buildings, their rusted fire escapes casting spiderweb shadows all around them under the radiance of the streetlights. Garbage was strewn all over the kerb, walls were brightly spray-painted, and the street was practically deserted. The taxi sped off as if the driver feared for his life.

“Where are we?” Anna asked.

Mark put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We’re almost there.”

He led her toward one of the dark tenements, checking the address to make sure he had the right one. It looked no different from the other buildings surrounding it – dirty, rusty, spray-painted – but the address was right. Mark led her toward the steps leading down to the sunken metal door.

“I’m so excited about your big surprise,” Anna said, but her eyes told him she didn’t like being here.

Beyond the battered metal door was a cobblestone courtyard about five yards long, lit by strategically placed colored floodlights, peppered with tall potted plants, and lined with wrought-iron benches. At the other side of the courtyard was a red wooden door. There was also a red velvet rope, and a line of six people waiting behind it.

“Cancellations,” one of them said.

“I’ve got a reservation,” Mark replied.

“What is this place?” Anna asked excitedly. The fear was gone from her eyes, replaced with anticipation.

“My surprise.” Mark rang the bell next to the red door, and it swung open. A woman in a silk Oriental dress, tight and red and flowered, appeared in the dim doorway.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Wagner, party of two.”

Anna tugged excitedly at his arm.

The woman stepped aside and said, “Come right in.”

The door closed behind them. They stood in a short, dark hallway with tastefully flowered wallpaper and a luxuriously deep carpet. Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out three hundred-dollar bills, handing them to the hostess.

“Right through there,” she replied, pointing to the gold-rimmed door on the other end of the hallway. “Check all your clothes in the room on the left. There’s no charge.”

“Check all our what?” Anna asked.

Mark locked his arm around hers, and said, “Follow me.”

There was another short hallway with a booth in the left wall, and a black door at the far end. Another woman stood behind the booth’s counter. She wore only a semi-sheer bra and white cotton panties.

“Your clothes,” she said. “They’re held under your name, and you can pick them up when you leave.”

“What is this?” Anna pleaded, tugging on his arm again. But Mark noticed she was smiling.

“Just trust me,” he said, and started to pull off one of his shoes.

Undressing before a perfect stranger waiting for their clothes was not the erotic experience Mark thought it might be. They stripped with robotically slow movements. He could see Anna trying to hide her concern – after all, she must have chosen tonight’s outfit with measured precision, and she was probably wondering if her new Italian shoes would be safe in this woman’s care – but she was game. She was always game.

By the time they stood naked beside each other and ready to pass through the next door, they were both giggling like children. Anna took his arm again.

“I’m going to stop asking questions now,” she said.

They were both utterly unprepared for what they saw beyond the door: a cavernous room, filled with red wallpaper, gold mirrors, vibrant green plants, plush brown couches, soft deep carpeting, the fragrance of a thousand delicate flowers – and people, so many people.

Everyone was naked. Mark and Anna walked slowly into the room, turning their heads back and forth, and staring in slack-jawed surprise at the debauchery that surrounded them.

To their right, two women were giving a man a tag-team blow job. To their left, a man was kneeling before a seated woman, his face buried between her legs, while two other women flanked her, licking her breasts. They heard a high, whirring sound, and turned to see a man with a woman on his lap, her legs spread wide, with both of them holding a pink vibrator to her clitoris. When the woman started bucking away from her playmate in the throes of passion, Mark could just make out the shaft of the man’s penis engorged in her anus.

Mark stopped walking and turned to face Anna. Her eyes were wide, but she was smiling even wider, and he could tell she was getting turned on. He reached out with both arms and grasped her shoulders.

“Surprise,” he said.

Then he leaned down and kissed her, holding her warm body tightly against his, feeling the soft press of her small breasts against his chest, and sliding his hands down her back.

“Let’s make them jealous,” he whispered to her.

She pulled him to her again, locking her lips against his so tight he almost couldn’t breathe.

A gloved hand fell on his shoulder. “Mr Wagner?” came a voice from behind him.

Mark turned around to see a short, rotund man in a tuxedo standing there patiently.

“So glad to see you’re getting into the spirit of things, Mr Wagner,” the man continued. “If you’ll follow me to the VIP room.”

“The what?” Mark asked.

“It is your anniversary, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anna said.

“Then only the best shall do. Follow me to the VIP room, please. There’s no extra charge.”

Mark and Anna shrugged at each other, and followed the diminutive butler. He led them through the enormous room, then around corners and through corridors and other rooms, all similar to the first. Mark began to suspect, impossibly, that the Aphrodite Club was larger inside than the tenement could conceivably hold.

I wonder if she’s here, he thought. I wonder if I’ll see her.

Tony was right; it was like a porn movie come to life. They saw a man ejaculating all over the face and tongue of his girlfriend; a redheaded woman lying on the carpet with a man straddling her torso and thrusting his penis between her ample breasts, while a second woman, a brunette, ran her tongue between the redhead’s legs; two moaning women, one on top of the other like a yin-yang symbol; everything Tony said it would be.

Anna leaned toward Mark’s ear and whispered, “How do they keep this place clean?” She touched his arm while she whispered, and her hand felt hot on his skin.

“Here we are,” the butler said, stopping before a thick oaken door with a polished brass knob. “Inside, you’ll find complimentary champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries, as well as private restrooms.”

Mark opened the door, and the butler followed them in.

The room inside was much smaller than the others they’d seen, spanning roughly eight hundred square feet. The walls had the same deep red wallpaper, the floor had the same thick carpeting, but the couches looked bigger and more comfortable. There were a dozen other people in the room, some resting, some making love, and all oblivious to the newcomers’ arrival.

A black door stood at the far end of the VIP room.

“Where does that one go?” Anna asked.

“A room designated only for our most special guests,” the butler replied. “Certain personalities whose privacy must be maintained. I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there. We sincerely hope you enjoy your time at the Aphrodite Club.” And with that, the little man in the tuxedo was gone.

“Jesus,” Mark said, looking around. “Where do we start?” His eyes went to the nearest sofa, where a man with a blond beard was getting a blow job from one woman while making out with another.

“Let’s have some refreshments,” Anna suggested, pulling a bottle from a standing silver cooler nearby.

They sat across from the bearded man and, sipping champagne from crystal flutes, watched as he ejaculated in one woman’s mouth while kissing the breasts of the other. Mark found himself getting so turned on he couldn’t wait any more. He grabbed the glass out of Anna’s hand and placed it with his own on the endtable.

Remaining seated where he was, Mark pulled Anna on top of him, letting her straddle him, and slowly lowered her onto his erection. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, gasping as he penetrated her.

Anna looked more beautiful than ever, writhing and moaning in his arms. Her mouth still tasted of champagne, and her tongue had the slightest hint of chocolate from the strawberries. Mark cupped one of Anna’s breasts in his hand and lifted it toward his mouth, kissing the nipple and running his tongue around the small, pink aureole. Anna moaned again, bucking her hips against him.

From the corner of his eye, Mark saw the black door slowly, silently open. At first there was only darkness beyond, but a shape began to materialize out of the shadows, walking forward into the doorway: Priestess. She wore a loose red silk dress, with a plunging V-neck that went all the way down past her navel. She stopped just outside the doorway, looking at Mark with a slight smile, her hand grazing along the exposed skin of her torso and just slightly revealing more of one perfect, round breast.

The moment their eyes met, Mark’s body was racked by the most intense orgasm he’d ever had, starting at the base of his penis and moving outward into his entire body. He cried out uncontrollably as he violently ejaculated into his wife. Anna practically screamed in climax, then collapsed against him in a sweaty heap.

Looking over Anna’s shoulder, Mark’s eyes stayed on Priestess. She didn’t break eye-contact.

He finally forced himself to look away when Anna straightened up again and said, “That was amazing!”

Mark nodded, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m going to use the women’s room,” she continued, getting up off him. There were two doors near where a woman was pouring champagne on her breasts and letting her boyfriend lick it off, and Anna went through the one with the picture of a naked woman on it.

Mark waited until the bathroom door shut, then looked back at Priestess. She was still there, smiling at him. He got up and walked over to her.

“Hi,” was all he could say.

“Mark,” she replied. “I’m so happy to see you again. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Me, too. A lot.”

She ran her hand idly along her torso again. “You want me, don’t you?” Mark couldn’t answer that. He looked away, toward the door of the women’s room. Priestess took his hand. Her skin was warm and smooth. “Come with me, Mark,” she said, pulling him into the dark doorway.

Mark couldn’t resist the fire her touch sparked in him. He followed her into a hallway, and the door closed gently behind him. It was dark, but he could still see her. A thick metal door stood in the distance. Everything else was black.

Priestess leaned back against the wall and pulled Mark close. “Will you let me kiss you?” she asked.

Her breath was sweet and cool against his face, and she smelled like flowers. Their bodies were so close together Mark thought he could feel electricity arcing between them.

“I’ve been waiting so long for someone like you, longer than you can possibly imagine,” she said. “I knew it from the moment we met. When our hands touched in the hallway outside your apartment, when I heard your voice on the phone, I knew we had to be together.” Her eyes bored into his. “I could feel you fantasizing about me.”

“I did,” Mark said.

“I liked it. So much passion. I can’t stand the idea of you thinking about anyone else so passionately. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Mark. You have so much energy. Raw. Uncontrollable.”

“No one understands that about me,” Mark said, falling into her eyes. “No one but you. I need constant…”

“Variety,” Priestess finished. “An endless diversity of partners and positions.”

“Yes.”

“You’re always looking for something new to keep you excited. I’m the same way; it’s why I came here from Greece all those years ago. I can give you an eternity of satisfaction, Mark, and all you have to do is love me.”

Mark leaned closer until all he could see was the smooth porcelain skin of her face. Priestess grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in.

It was like no kiss Mark had ever felt before. It started on his lips, then travelled to his tongue, his whole mouth, down his neck and through his entire body, as if his soul was merging with something divine, something godlike, through the meeting of their lips.

Anna, he thought suddenly. What about Anna?

The one thing Anna had always adamantly refused him was a threesome. She said she didn’t want to share him with anyone, and five years ago tonight he had sworn to forsake anyone else.

He could feel Priestess moving against him; could feel the soft flutter of her dress as it fell off her warm body and landed at their feet. She pulled him closer to her, their naked flesh crushing against each other.

Geoff warned him there was a price to pay, that he would lose Anna forever if he cheated on her. Was Priestess worth the price? To be with her meant never holding Anna again when she was sad, never hearing Anna’s comforting voice after a bad day, never feeling Anna’s hand in his hair on a lazy Sunday morning in bed. Could he live with that?

Priestess looked up into his eyes.

“You’re thinking about her,” she said.

“It’s our anniversary.”

“I’m a jealous woman, Mark. I can give you everything you want, but your heart must belong to me.”

“She’s my wife.”

Priestess shook her head. “No,” she said. “There’s only me.” The bathroom was completely mirrored from floor to ceiling, and Anna found it disorienting as she washed her hands in the marble sink.

The door opened behind her, and Anna glanced into a mirror, expecting to see another woman come in. Instead, she saw the short, tuxedoed butler enter the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

She spun around, trying to cover herself with her arms.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a seven-inch, serrated knife.

Anna screamed as he leapt at her, and caught his arms in her hands. The knife hovered inches from her body. The butler had a surprising amount of strength in his small frame and, as Anna’s arms started slowly bending, the knife moved closer to her bare skin.

He sank the blade into Anna’s chest, all the way up to the hilt.

The little butler opened one of the mirrored panels in the wall, and stuffed her body into the space behind it.

“There’s only me,” Priestess repeated, pulling Mark toward her and kissing him again.

Mark knew she was right. No other woman could give him everything he wanted, everything he needed; not Anna, not Arianna, not the model on the beach. He belonged with Priestess. He belonged to Priestess.

“Come see,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the thick metal door.

The enormous room beyond it was black, too. An unearthly green light filtering through the darkness.

A wretched orgy filled the center of the room. Mark was certain the desiccated, spent things writhing like snakes on the floor had once been human. The ravages of time and endless exertion had turned them into dry, withered, furiously copulating mummies.

Their jerking movements told Mark they had no control over their actions.

Their wasted shapes told him they would have died long ago if someone – something – wasn’t keeping them alive, keeping them fucking.

Their dead eyes told him to run.

But Mark’s legs wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t move at all.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Priestess took his hand, bringing him forward to join the fray.