Free Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 by Jasmine Haynes

mirror at the top of the stairs
reflected the blue chiffon. The pearls at her throat glimmered in the
flickering light of the wall sconces. She’d piled her hair up in a neat twist,
and her lips were a modest shade of pink. She looked like a prissy society
matron. Except for the spaghetti strap that had fallen off one shoulder. That
one detail said it all. She was a woman, neat on the outside and melted
chocolate on the inside. Virginia ripped open the envelope.
           “Visit three rooms of your choice. I’ll be
watching you.”
           Was she to indulge herself in the three
rooms? With another man? By herself? Would she find him in one of those rooms doing another woman? A sick feeling swept
through her midriff. Not even a month ago, she’d told herself she wouldn’t let
the notion bother her. Now, she prayed that wasn’t what he’d planned for their
evening. No, he wouldn’t do that. Visiting the rooms was part of the game, the
titillation. Brett wanted her to watch other people, wanted her achingly hot
and bothered by the time he revealed himself. She wouldn’t allow her thoughts
to get in the way of their mutual pleasure.
           She tucked the note into the beaded purse
at her waist. He had thought of everything, even a place to stash her license
and car key. Three rooms to visit. Then he was hers.
           She turned left down the hall, strolling
past the orgy room. Been there, seen that. Because she couldn’t go around, she
stepped over the feet of a woman on her knees performing oral sex in the middle
of the hallway. The man’s groans filled the air, and Virginia’s chiffon
suddenly felt scratchy, rubbing her nipples to peaks and making her feel...hot
and bothered.
           Something ahead tooted, like a train
whistle. The Train Depot. She dodged a couple making out, her skirt brushing
the male backside. She was sure he liked it, the faint touch of strangers
passing by, the electricity pulsing around them, the knowledge that everyone
could see his tongue down his partner’s throat and her hand in the open zipper
of his pants.
           The train whistled at Virginia once more,
and she glanced through a gap in the onlookers. Inside, only two walls were
mirrored and half the ceiling. A plywood mock-up of a train depot filled an
entire wall, complete with painted figures dressed in Victorian clothing. She
found herself sucked inside the room by the press of bodies. An oral train was
taking off just as she was pressed onto the makeshift depot platform. Naked
bodies squirmed on the floor. A woman on her back, a man on elbows and knees,
his face buried in her pussy, his legs splayed over another woman as she sucked
his cock, and between her thighs, a female head bobbing. On and on it went in a
human train pulling ten cars. Bright clothing, naked flesh, private parts
exposed.
           Virginia plastered herself to the painted
wall. The room was close and filled with the aroma of come and arousal, but
what set her skin humming was that within all the scents, she smelled him,
Brett, musky, hot, salty. Like the taste of his come on her tongue. She
couldn’t see him, yet she knew he was watching her.
           In front of the mirror, another train
started, this one with full penetration. It gathered speed with gusto, a cock
in a vagina, a woman with a dildo strapped to her waist impaling the man in
front of her. It was fascinating in a horrifying way.
           A beckoning hand emerged from the oral
train. God only knew who it belonged to in the mass of writhing bodies.
Virginia plunged for the door. While she was moist from the underside of her
breasts to between her legs, she didn’t do trains.
           In the hallway, she caught her breath. The
crowd grew thinner the farther into the depths of the huge mansion she went, as
if the guests got mired in the first rooms they came to. She wondered if
peeking into a room counted as one of the three she was supposed to visit.