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  "Ma'am?" The large, gruff looking man said.

  "Yes?"

  "Mr. Montero wasn't able to stay, but he would like me to apologize on his behalf and ask that you visit his apartment for a party he'll be having this evening."

  He handed her a note with an address written on it.

  "Dress is formal. Please come after 9 p.m.," the man said, and then he turned and walked away.

  That night, even as she shaved her legs and applied her makeup, Hannah wasn't sure she would go. Her sister gave few words, offering little more than a slight warning, some grudging support and a lovely little red dress that seemed to put everything in the right place.

  "You won't have any trouble getting attention in that," Courtney said, as she eyed the young girl's body. "I pray for a positive outcome."

  With that, she left the room, leaving her younger sister to ready herself alone. As she styled her long blond hair, Hannah studied her reflection: the girl before her looking more sure than the one inside. In the end, she knew reason wouldn't hold against her natural curiosity to know the differences between Dominic and the other men from her past, the feel of his hard, muscled body underneath hers, the warmth of his full lips working passionately against her own.

  She took a cab to the address, the driver taking her through the Vegas strip, while she took in the explosion of glittering lights, like some wide-eyed tourist from a faraway land of drab, colorless surroundings. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at their destination: a pair of lofty twin ivory pillars that provided luxury housing for some of the wealthiest people in the city.

  The moment she stepped out the taxi, a gray-haired doorman approached and asked her name.

  "Hannah Collins," she said.

  Immediately, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a handful of cash.

  "Mr. Montero will pay for your trip," he said, before leaning down to hand the driver two one hundred dollar bills that looked bright and new as the day there were made.

  The old man then saw her inside and passed her over to the elevator attendant: a tall, square looking man with thick eyebrows that had begun to meander. Without asking her name, the second man led her to the elevator and waited for the shimmering gold doors to slide apart.

  "The party is on the roof," he said through his brambly looking beard.

  "How did you know I was here for the party?" She asked, but he didn't answer.

  They rode together, neither talking, the elevator soaring upward without any hint save for the gentle swimming in her stomach once it reached the top.

  The second the elevator doors opened, anxiety flooded her chest. The rooftop was filled with wealthy, well-dressed men, escorted by exquisite-looking women who looked as if they'd been grown in a laboratory. Tall, buxom and beautiful, they all wore colorful party masks that had fluffy feathers jutting up from one side. As she stepped out of the elevator, a man approached and looked her over.

  "I think this one," he said, and he presented a gold mask accented with a pretty little red feather.

  Without speaking, she took the mask and put it on, feeling both silly and relieved all in one moment. With that, she left the man and approached the bar.

  "Champaign or something stronger?" The young bartender said, as if sensing her unease.

  "A martini," she said.

  While she waited, she scanned her surroundings. Men huddled together and shook hands, while their dates stood quietly, their faces looking vapid and bored.

  "Ever been to one of these things?" The bartender asked, as he served her drink.

  "No."

  "There's an orgy at the end."

  She smiled at him, but he just turned and walked away.

  "Ah, there you are," Dominic said, as he approached through the crowd. He wore a dark, tailored suit that did little to hide his muscular body, and as he approached, the clean and gentle scent of his cologne caressed her senses, and her heart picked up its pace.

  "I hope you haven't been waiting long," he said, as he took her hand.

  "Just a few minutes."

  "Please," he said, as he gently pulled her hand. "Let me introduce you to a handful of my acquaintances. Some of these people are worth much in the way of amusement, I assure you."

  They approached an old, fat man who wore a deep purple scar across the side of his neck. His gray hair lay thin and combed horizontally across the top of his head, which was freckled by a mass of age spots; however, the beautiful young girl clutching his arm seemed smitten enough, despite his defects.

  "Jean Paul," Dominic said loudly, as the old man grinned in delight. "Let me introduce you to my good friend Hannah."

  "Enchanted," Jean Paul said with a slight accent that was difficult to place. "What a lovely girl you are. Dominic is fortunate to have such a beauty for company this evening."

  Hannah took his outstretched hand and he placed a moist kiss on top.

  "Jean Paul is an investor much like me, but that's not what makes him interesting," Dominic said. "He is a particularly accomplished explorer, who's been to places most people have never seen."

  Hannah raised her eyebrows in a demonstration of interest.

  "This is true," Jean Paul said. "I enjoy traveling very much and have met many astonishing people in my journeys."

  Dominic looked at Hannah and smiled.

  "You see, Jean Paul has no interest in things that lure many travelers: history, architecture, culture and whatnot."

  Hannah nodded.

  "What does attract you?" She asked.

  "Why the cuisines, my dear," he said with a grin. "Or more specifically, the rich oddities that some cultures ingest for sustenance and ritual alike."

  Hannah pinched her eyebrows together.

  "You see, Jean Paul has a unique appetite for things you and I might find repugnant," Dominic said. "Please, Jean Paul, share."

  "Yes, Dominic is correct. I have eaten things you might consider odd; however, to the people who eat them on a regular basis, they are like your hamburgers and French fries." He took a sip of his drink and peered at her thoughtfully. "For example, in Europe, as you may know, they enjoy blood pudding, which is comprised largely of coagulated blood drawn from pigs, cattle, sheep or what have you: earthy, meaty like iron. In Asia, they have bat paste, where a live bat is forced into a vat of boiling milk until it becomes malleable enough to be mashed into an edible pulp. Elsewhere, balut, hasma, jellied moose nose, countless dishes consisting of fried or boiled rats, hornets, spiders, roaches and other anthropods."

  Hannah put a hand to her stomach and grimaced.

  "Ah, a common reaction, my dear," Jean Paul said. "However, had you tasted some of these cuisines, you would assuredly change your opinion; some are quite tasty once you get past the textures. In fact, I've adopted many to my usual menu. Casu marzu, for instance, which is made when the rind of a whole Pecorino cheese is removed to allow flies access to inject their larvae. As the maggots consume the cheese over a period of time, the acid from their digestive tracts works to break down the fat in the cheese, leaving a particularly unique flavor. Currently, this cheese is banned by the European Union due to ridiculous health concerns, so it must be procured on the black market; however, it is a treat worth pursuing, I can assure you."

  Hannah looked at Dominic who was smiling with sincere amusement.

  "Tell her what else you've added to your personal menu, Jean Paul."

  A wry little smile trickled across the old man's face.

  "It's ok?" He asked Dominic, who nodded and put his hand out.

  "Please."

  Hannah furrowed her brows as Jean Paul cleared his throat.

  "Well, you see my dear, throughout my life, one of my largest curiosities has centered on the consumption of human beings, themselves, by other human beings. So I made a point to explore regions of the world where this was said to still occur. More often than not, these turned out to only be rumors; however, occasionally, I found success."

  He squinted and licked his
lips.

  "The way it was prepared by natives left it stringy and tough and somewhat sour; but since then, I've found if you soak the meat in milk prior to consumption, the flavor is much better."

  Hannah moved a little closer to Dominic.

  "You eat people?"

  Jean Paul smiled.

  "No one you know, my dear."

  The old man chuckled and put his arm around his date's slender waist.

  "You see, one of the privileges that comes with money is the ability to demand things outside the reach of the general populace, and so it is the case for me."

  An awkward silence fell upon their circle before Dominic finally spoke.

  "Well, we should mingle elsewhere," he said. "Jean Paul, as always, thank you for entertaining us."

  Jean Paul nodded and held out his hand.

  "It was a pleasure."

  Hannah placed a reluctant hand atop the old man's wrinkled fingers, and he pushed another warm, moist kiss against her knuckles.

  "Nice to me you," she lied, and then they were off to meet other guests, who all seemed perfectly comfortable describing their own individual bizarre lifestyles and habits.

  By the end of the night, Hannah's mind was reeling.

  "Have you not been entertained?" Dominic asked with an arrogant smirk.

  "I guess you could say that."

  A large man approached and whispered something in Dominic's ear. He frowned and set his drink on a table.

  "I'm sorry to say I must leave you for a moment," he said, and then he and his associate walked away.

  Hannah watched them weave through the crowd which had thinned considerably in the last hour, and then they both disappeared behind a big black door. She swallowed the last of her martini and returned to the bar.

  "Where has everyone gone?" She asked the bartender.

  "To the suite one floor down for the after party," he said. "The elevator attendant will take you there at your request."

  She looked around at the sparse crowd and saw Jean Paul grinning at her from across the room.

  "Perhaps I will investigate this after party."

  With that, she ordered another drink and headed toward the elevator. The attendant asked her floor, and when she told him, he seemed to give up a wry little smile. When the doors opened, he gave a gracious nod, and she stepped out into a beautifully decorated hallway cast in dim lighting. Quickly, a large man stepped forward and asked her intentions.

  "I was told there was an after party on this floor?"

  "Yes," he said politely. "Just down the hallway and through those doors."

  She nodded and proceeded the rest of the way, but as she approached the doors, something stopped her. It was noise: strange, muffled noises the origin of which her mind could not resolve. She looked over her shoulder toward the man, but he only smiled and raised his eyebrows.

  Without responding, she turned back toward the doors and took hold of the knobs. With a sudden jerk, she pulled them open to reveal a mob of nude men and women engaged in an astounding array of fleshly acts.

  She froze in the doorway, while her eyes took in the scene: women sucking testicles, while other men took them from behind, men engaged in anal intercourse, others sitting in chairs watching it all, cigarettes dangling from their fingers, serious looks on their faces.

  In one far corner, a man held another man's head as he devoured his penis; a few feet from them, a lovely woman lay sprawled, while an even lovelier woman massaged her clitoris with her bright pink tongue.

  On the other side of the room, a young black girl struggled to please three men at the same time, her mouth and hands working furiously, their dicks hard and throbbing and pale against her beautiful dark skin.

  Nearby, a pale-skinned girl with bright red hair struggled to cope with an enormous penis, its astounding size unreal, like nothing Hannah had seen or imagined before.

  The center of them room was like one mass of skin, mouths, genitals and writhing legs. Women gave head indiscriminately, often switching from one cock to the next without ever making eye contact with its host.

  While women arched their backs against crippling orgasms, men ejaculated on their colorful masks, on backs, on legs, on other men.

  At last, Hannah drew the eyes of some of the men, and a few stood, their erections growing even firmer, their faces hungry, like wolves at the sight of fresh meat.

  Without thinking, she turned and fled down the hallway, past the security guard. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word dropped from his lips, she had successfully summoned the elevator and made her escape.

  Chapter 4

  An hour later, Hannah sat at the rooftop bar, sipping a martini and mindlessly listening to the bartender talk about his school studies. She was beginning to think Dominic would not return at all, but just as she contemplated leaving, a man arrived with a message.

  "Mr. Montero wanted to me to apologize for leaving you unattended for so long and would like you to join him for a drink in his apartment suite three floors down."

  Having delivered his message, the man turned abruptly and walked away.

  Hannah finished her drink and left a tip for the bartender.

  "Thank you," he said with a smile that brought a unique appeal to his ordinary face.

  "Can you tell me which apartment suite is Mr. Montero's?" She asked.

  "Three floors down," he said, as he wiped the bar.

  "Yes, but which one?"

  "No," he said. "He occupies the whole floor."

  When she met the elevator attendant this time, he greeted her with a familiar smile.

  "You, again?"

  "Me, again."

  "Mr. Montero's floor?" He asked.

  "How did you know?" She asked, but instead of answering, he simply pressed the floor and crossed his hands.

  When the doors opened, another man stood before her, this one short, his dark face ruined with pock marks and scars from whatever it was life had tossed his way. He greeted her with a smile, exposing two gold teeth near the rear of his lower jaw.

  "This way, miss," he said in an accent she couldn't identify.

  They crossed through a hallway, the walls pale so as not to detract from the paintings that adorned them. Finally, they reached a large wooden door, which seemed wide enough for a car. The man approached a keypad to the left of it and tapped in a series of numerical codes, the buttons glowing green with every tap. When he finished, a soft click went off and the door popped open. At this point the man took a large step backward and turned his palm upward.

  "Please," he said.

  Hannah nodded respectfully and entered, closing the door behind her.

  Inside, it was all white leather and tasteful extravagance, a tiny fire burning within a massive fireplace, a candle in every direction.

  "Have a seat," Dominic said from behind the bar situated in the far corner.

  She put her head down and crossed the room, his eyes tracing her every step, studying her as she smoothed the backside of her skirt to sit down. He finished making whatever it was he was making and approached her, a single drink in his hand. He looked as if he'd just come from the party, the belt gone from his black slacks, the tie from his white shirt, two or three buttons undone to reveal the upper portion of his muscular chest. He sat beside her and leaned back, his knees spread open as if he'd known her long enough to expect anything and everything without asking.

  "Would you like a drink?" He asked, as he sipped his.

  "Yes, thank you.”

  He lowered his eyebrows and swallowed, a shallow hiss escaping from his damp lips.

  "Help yourself."

  She smiled as if he was joking, but his demeanor remained unchanged. Finally, she lifted to her feet and made her way over to the bar. He watched her the way, noting the ticks of her high heels against the white tile. She surveyed the liquors: everything you could imagine. She'd drink anything he'd put in front of her, but he wasn't offering; so she made a martini and sp
lashed a pair of olives inside.

  She returned with her drink in hand, while he took in all her subtle movements through lazy eyes, each one framed with dark rows of thick eyelashes that made them uniquely bold, uniquely his.

  In her absence, he had moved to the center of the couch, and his face flashed a cunning little smirk that made him look cute. She shook her head and sat beside him.

  "Aren't you sly," she said, as she sipped her drink.

  He laid his arm over the couch behind her and leaned in closer, his fingers lightly touching the ends of her long blonde hair.

  "I've been thinking of this moment all night," he said, as he moved in for a kiss.

  She lifted her chin to oblige, their mouths coming together flush; his soft, full lips skilled and practiced; her body awash with chills and warmth all at once.

  For several minutes they went on this way; and, then, without even realizing it, she was atop him, her legs spread over his lap, dress pushed back over her knees.

  He took her lower lip between his and sucked it, while she clawed her fingers through his thick, black hair. As she worked his mouth, his hands explored her body, his fingertips traveling slowly from her bare shoulders down to the small of her back; the sensation of his touch so overwhelming, her head felt light.

  Finally, his appetite grew unruly, and he pushed her dress up over her hips and past her panties, her body wriggling to oblige his desires.

  While she writhed atop his lap, he offered subtle, measured thrusts, the feel of his erection against her clitoris making her shiver, her lips against his ear, offering tiny little moans that drove him to the edge of sanity.

  Suddenly, he lifted her entire body as if it were completely weightless and placed her on her back. With complete confidence, he pulled down the top of her dress and sucked her breasts, one of his large hands grasping the back of her neck, the other rolling her panties down her thighs. While he enjoyed her body, she ran her fingernails over his back, the smell of his unfamiliar cologne making its way through her nose and into her mind, like some kind of invisible narcotic, her eyes rolling back, body growing warm.