The Masquerade

• Title Page
  
• 1 – Rick
  
• 2 – Vee
  

THE MASQUERADE

(The Rental #0.5
, a prequel)

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RICK

My little brother, Justin
, pointed his gangly finger at Genevieve Wyland. “Remember her?”

I
tugged on his arm. “You idiot. Don’t let her see you pointing.”

She was the
gorgeous, poison apple of my life looking so fucking sweet in a floor-length gown—blue, draping skirt; lace bust; and a high, choking neckline. I wanted that to be me, my hands where her dress began, sliding down her porcelain skin, tightening at her waist. A black-lace mask hid half her face, the mysterious effect enhancing her lips and her delicate neckline. From her long blonde locks to the tips of her heels under the dress, she looked angelic—and unattainable—standing there by her friends, who were all clad in ass-hugging skirts.

It was the first time I saw
Genevieve in weeks. Months. I clasped my hands over my hard-on as I watched her from the opposite side of the party room. The birthday boy called tonight
Mark’s Masq
. The invitation promised a wicked night with a portrait of Cinderella in a cut-off dress, slutty heels, some sparkly-shit eye mask, and red blowjob lips.

I felt the need to shield
Genevieve from it all, but she wasn’t mine to protect.

“That’s the
point,
you pedo, so she gets the hint I want her,” Justin said, clueing into my staring.

I punched his shoulder. “Quit saying stuff like that. Dad would kick your ass for that filth.”

“Dad?” Justin said, pulling out a rollie.

Oh, how fucking classic. “
Jus
…”

He circled
a hand over the end and ignited the lighter. The stench of the weed filled my lungs as he whispered, “Mmm.”

“You’re fifteen, dude.”

He inhaled
a long drag looking at her side profile as she tilted her head back and chuckled. “And that would make you …” he made a Mexican wave out of his fingers, counting, “nineteen.”

Indeed. The fucker said it like they were four cock-blocking years. “Only by a couple of weeks.”

But it didn’t change anything. She was still fifteen. I was
still nineteen. I shouldn’t crave a girl how I did with her. How I wanted to brush her hand under the table. Or excuse myself past her, hands reverent on the small of her back. Maybe lean into her ear to tell her a secret.

I gritted my teeth and exhaled ragged breaths.

I just … could
n’t.

Too many obstacles existed between us, the least of which included long sofas, a TV
as big as a normal wall, and pillars announcing the ten-foot high French doors to the grass terrain out back. It wasn’t as if she stood near enough to smell the stench of ‘idiot’ on my brother, but if I could see her, she could us.

M
y heart lurched out of my chest, and I fidgeted my clasped hands over myself, making sure to hide any outward signals from Justin. Wanting her spurred a competitive interest in him. I’d lose that fight.

I could
n’t.

I just could
n’t—

I snapped my eyes back to him. His lip had shriveled up on one side. If she were my poison apple, he was Judas, the silent trouble.

“Want a drink?” I ask
ed him. “Since you spent Mum’s pocket money on
that
.” I indicated his smoking.

He considered
the girl, inhaling deeply. Fuck, how I wished I could clench my fist and eliminate that smug—

“Nah, I’m good here.”

Yeah, I bet he i
s.

I, however, needed a drink. All whiskey. Hold the coke.

A couple of minutes later
, I had pushed and weaved through the crowd and leant my arm on the bar as I waited to be served. The bartender took a couple of minutes to come as she was busy preparing a drink for herself. Finally available, I reeled off what I wanted and slapped my note on the bar counter.

She
snatched it, and a sour expression twisted in her features. I didn’t blame her for being shitty. My mates told me she either had to volunteer this gig as a favour to her cousin, Mark the birthday boy or Mark would tell her father she had her belly button and nipples pierced.

“Nasty,” a soft voice
purred in my ear.

I shudder
ed, not having heard her voice so close. Tilting my head, I smiled by way of saying ‘hi.’ Her vanilla scent had assaulted my nose and robbed me of my voice. I wanted to bury my face into her chest and breathe her in.

“You eighteen? Mind getti
ng me a cosmopolitan?” She leant in—right under my chin—and whispered into my ear, “Nasty Pants there might not serve a fifteen-year-old.”

I gulped, thinking
cock block
.

In the
end, I ordered. The red drink came in a cocktail glass garnished with sugar along the rim. Genevieve darted her tongue along it. I looked away.

“…
Rick?”

I returned her gaze, piercing grey-blue irises shadowed by dark make-up under her mask. “What?” I said, not catching the start.

She grabbed my mask and flipped
it up, peering along my nose up to my eyes. Sharp nails dug into my forehead. I suppressed a groan, imagining other places and those same nails.

“Oh, sorry,” she sai
d and sat back. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I asked if that was you, Rick.” She beamed. “It is.”

“Yes. Hi, Genevieve.”

I mashed my lips together and clenched my jaw at my stupidity.
Yes. Hi, Genevieve,
I thought, mocking myself.

“It’s just Vee. Everyone calls me that. You can, too.” At long last, she sipped her drink, smiling into it. I hoped the smile wasn’t for the drink, but even if so, my insides twisted together at the thought of something I bought her made her that happy.

“Vee it is.”

“Oh
, and also …” She plunged her hand into the side of the top and reached … her breasts?
Christ
. I gulped down half my whiskey, relishing the burn at the back of my throat. It was hard and palpable, something I could absorb.

S
he tapped my arm with the back of her hand. In it, she clutched a ten-dollar note. I raised an eyebrow.

“For that.” She flapped
the note at her drink.

“No, keep it. I bought it for you.”

“No way. Please,” she said and flapped it at me.

“Vee, it’s a gift. Accept it. Don’t give it back.”

Something in
my words halted her. I wasn’t sure what it was, but she deliberated, holding the note to her breast.
Oh, fuck this
. I grabbed my glass and took care of the rest.

With her money
tucked back inside, she glanced at the empty drink and back to hers, then swallowed the whole thing. Empty, she slapped the cocktail on the bar and cringed, thrashing her head.

“Nasty
?” I teased.

“No. Strong. Very
strong.”

Before I could say anything
else, a girl stumbled into Vee, tipping her glass onto her shoulder. She mumbled something that sounded like sorry as she stumbled off in a different direction, all of which passed in an instant.

“Yuck!” Vee cried and pulled her long hair over the
opposite, clean shoulder.

I patted down her shoulder and asked, “Where did she get you?”

“Just there,” Vee said as the pads of my fingers moved across her shoulder and pushed beneath the lace trimming at her back.

“Hold on.” I grabbed a wad of napkins. She stood statuesquely, the portrait of sheer beauty poised with her hair swept over her farthest shoulder, her neck tilted away, exposing her creamy neck. I blinked and swallowed hard, wanting to lick her clean with my tongue. I leant into her and inhaled. The shoulder smelt of lemonade, thankfully, and not cola or something as pungent.

Vee’s
back faced my chest, so she couldn’t see the way I gazed longingly down her dress at the shape of her hips. Taking advantage of her position, I looked down the delicate curve of her shoulder. I grazed my teeth along my lip, witnessing her breasts rise and fall rapidly. I wished her heightened state of arousal was for me, yet my heavy heart reminded me it was due to the shock of the spill.

“Err, Rick?”

“Yes?” I rasped.

“Are you going to use those napkins or should I?”

I didn’t reply but mopped up her shoulder. I dabbed around to her back and lifted the lace to swipe there, too. “Good as new. I think it was only lemonade, so your dress shouldn’t stain.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide in wonder, then over herself and patted down her dress to check.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I hoped she wasn’t hurt.

“Fine.” She stared at my hands as I wrung them on the last napkin, soaking up the dampness on my skin. “I think I’m on high alert. That cocktail, that girl bumping into me …”

“But you’re not hurt?”

She smiled and said, “No, Rick. I’m fine.”

“Have you ever …” I drifted off, inspecting her expression. Her eyes glimmered, and she licked her lips as if she could still taste the buzz from that one drink. Like she’d never … “Ever drank before?”

She shook her head causing her hair to sway. Fuck, how I wanted to grab hold of it.

“I’m a bad influence.”

“Would have happened anyway.”

“But
much
later on when you’d be older and wiser not to take a drink from a strange guy.”

“You’re not a stranger, Rick. We’ve seen each other. And I like that my first was you.”

Someone burst between us
, and we lurched back. Justin cried out, “My big brother here was your first?”

She blushed. “
Drink
.”

“Now that’s some context,” I said, chuckling, though I didn’t feel very funny.

“What other firsts are left for me, princess?”

“None if you keep calling me that.”

“What,” Justin teased, slinging his arm over her shoulder, “
princess
?”

She struggled under him. With a firm grip on his shoulder, I plucked him off her. “Time to go. Nasty Pants is giving us evil eyes.”

“Nasty Pants?”

Vee and I chuckled.

And Justin, feeling vulnerable outside our joke, looked deep into my eyes to a place I didn’t want him perceiving.