Sarasota Sin

1

When the doors opened, the smell of cigars, scotch, and sex swamped him. He hesitated, staring at his reflection from all four angles, his hazel eyes more gold in the artificial lighting, his black hair a dark shadow around his face. The mirrored elevator cleverly housed closed circuit cameras offering live feed for those partying below. So if he were in here, say, with a partner or two, he could get off on a bit of exhibitionism as he lowered himself into the bowels of hedonism.

But he was alone.

Stepping in, he turned to the side panel offering floors one through lucky thirteen and quickly punched the six and then the nine. He smiled at his step-cousin’s stupid pun as the elevator lurched three floors to Level 69. When the car stopped, the front doors remained closed, a security measure. Instead, a single paneled opened to the side, revealing patrons flashing too much money, dangerous amounts of self-entitlement, and sickening extents of debauched hunger. Due to the current fundraiser operating above ground on his family’s hotel property, Level 69 was tightly packed this evening.

“Avery!” A squeal sounded to his left.

He rolled his eyes behind his mask as the distinct press of breasts and nails met his side. Avery glanced down at the redhead who’d tried her damnedest to make him her fool. If only she hadn't followed him back to Sarasota.  Even in the spanning colored strobes, he could see the beginnings of her black roots showing.

“Marla,” he chastised the woman he and Dylan had shared. Their relationship lasted six months long, and he meant long. If there ever was a whining baby to be had, it was Marla. Still, her whining wasn't the reason they ended it with her. “I’m wearing a mask for a reason.” Actually, he wore it because his mother had insisted tonight’s fundraiser to be a throwback masquerade party. Those attending were masked and wearing vintage costumes, but the Easton men had only conceded to their masks. After all, their custom tuxedos weren't made to leave hanging.

“Sorry.” Marla faux pouted when he removed his mask and slipped it inside his coat pocket, her eyes slightly unfocused as she traced his tie. “I deserve a spanking.”

“You certainly deserve that and more.” Avery ran his index finger over her cheek with avid boredom. “Whoever you were just with didn’t do the job, huh?”

“No one is you.” Glaring at the blonde making her way to Avery, Marla explained, “I’ve since tried women, and not even they attend me the way you do.”

“Did,” he clarified, winking at the blonde so she’d return his way. He allowed no one to dictate his sexual life, and this certainly included Marla Fallcioni. “What’s your name, lovely?” He held his hand out for the blonde, grasping her cool fingers in his palm.

“Vivian,” she said in a smooth Hungarian accent, tiptoeing on her stilettos to kiss him. Disappointment crossed her face when he didn’t bend down for her kiss. Avery Easton didn’t kiss above the neck, a rule he’d learned from his step-cousin Dylan, a way of keeping the past where it belonged.

“I believe you model, but I can’t recall the ad,” he lied, but it was a worthy try. After all, there wasn’t any way Vivian wasn’t a model.

“Piccous,” she offered with a bleached-white smile.

“Well, they’re lucky to land you and so am I.” Pulling her to his side, he ran his hand over his blue-black whiskers, thinking. “I offer you pleasure, Vivian.” Bringing her knuckles to his mouth, he whispered over a kiss. “Will you accept?”

Her soft grip tightened in his. “Yes.”

He nodded his approval. “Then your safe word is Piccous.”

“Piccous,” she repeated.

Avery glanced over his shoulder at Marla, requital hatching in his mind. “Play nicely and you can come along.” He reminded her, “Use the safe word you never uttered when you were my mistress.” Even through his tuxedo coat he could feel Marla’s nails digging into him, his reminding her that she was nothing more than a has been mistress hitting home. Good, it should. Still, Avery knew Marla wouldn’t refuse another opportunity at his mouth and tongue. Turning to the crowd, he watched the hot meld of bodies and pressed a hand low on Vivian’s spine. “This way, ladies.”

Music blasted from all walls as they maneuvered through the main corridor leading to the opera house - another of Evan’s jokes but it was an effective environment for what he had in mind. The smell of sex increased as they neared the end of the hall, many nodding his way, recognizing him though he wished it weren’t the case. By the time they reached the far side, Avery felt as though his bones had shattered and reformed several times in the space of minutes. The blare of the music didn't stimulate him as it did the others.  On the contrary, it irritated every cell in his body. He nearly stalled. Visiting this club was one of his worst ideas in quite a while, and dread weighed him down.

Vivian peered up at him, sensing his marked reluctance. “You not want?” she asked in her broken English.

Marla smirked at her. “You can find someone else, Vivian.”

Firstly, Avery Easton never went back on his word. “I promised you pleasure, Vivian, and pleasure is what you’ll receive.” Secondly, he’d made no such promise to Marla. “Second punishment earned, Marla, didn’t I say you could come along, if you played nicely?”

“Yes, you did,” she said in a singsong, baby voice that he hated to no end. “But why can’t we get a private room?”

The reason they couldn’t get a private room renewed his determination. “I’m thinking a ball gag would go nicely with your heels.”

She gaped. “You know I don’t like those things.”

“Precisely.” He assisted Vivian and Marla up ten curving steps beneath an archway leading to the underground opera house. When they emerged on the other side, Avery familiarized himself with the turn-of-the-century opulence of gold and silver with a twist of his lips. The place was as tasteless as he remembered. Red velvet curtains were pulled back, revealing a stage filled with dominants and subs in training. Cracks of whips, cries of pleasure-pain, and sobs of never-ending orgasms reached his eyes and ears. Swings to his right, open beds to his left, this grandiose room for the horny spanning thousands of square feet was at maximum capacity tonight.

“May I take your drink order, Sir?” A pristinely painted doll wearing sparkling nipple clamps, golden leather boy shorts, and matching leather boots ending above her knees waited patiently with tray in hand.

“Whatever the ladies want,” he said, spotting Evan and Julian coming his way.

“Bro,” Julian greeted him first, considering him a brother instead of the cousin by adoption Avery was. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you,” he continued when he pried Avery from the women, raking his fingers through his golden hair. “I know it’s been rough since Dylan settled down.”

Two weeks had passed since Dylan Easton had a life altering epiphany, and his family considered him tamed, which was entirely laughable to Avery. “Now isn’t the time to discuss family matters.” Only Eastons were allowed to keep their cellphones inside Level 69, since they had to protect the privacy of the rich and famous, but he couldn’t be too carful. At any given time, the Easton's images and taken-out-of-context quotes were seconds away from the internet’s ever-reaching claws.

Evan frowned, his black eyebrows pinching in the middle. “We didn’t expect to see you with Marla. Come on, man, it’s not as though you’re in love with her.”

Because, in their eyes, love was a four-letter word and any man who fell was delusional. Avery had loved and lost. At no time had he found himself delusional, but there was always tomorrow. “Do I look like a man in love?”

“No, but Marla chucked you in the cuckold club,” Julian spoke quietly, his green eyes reddened with lack of sleep. “Last I checked you weren’t into that shit.”

“Not even for a second,” Avery reassured them. He couldn’t take a backseat to cuckolding for all the money and power in the world. Not that he needed money or power.

“Then why are you embarrassing yourself in front of this crowd by taking her back.” Marla had humiliated Avery and Dylan, when she’d fucked four members of their staff on a regular basis, right under the noses…even in their collective bed. There could have been more than four. Who knew at this point? And all the while, Marla had committed verbally to their monogamous relationship. Her reasoning was that Avery and Dylan had shared her, so she figured they were kinky enough not to mind if she got her kicks while they were working or out of town on business. A furious Dylan had placed a dictionary beneath her nose, requesting she read the definition of monogamous. When she finished, he kicked her out.

Avery pulled Julian and Evan closer, explaining what he wanted to do in vivid detail. After a few shots, the five of them found a center box upstairs offering a prime view of the stage, but that wasn’t why Avery asked for this spot. Julian leaned against a column, watching over his club with vague interest. Evan lifted a completely nude Marla onto a St.  Andrew’s cross, restraining her wrists and ankles without actually looking at her, his ebony gaze focused on Vivian. Not that Marla was anything but beautiful, with her paid-for-breasts and plush fuck-able mouth; nevertheless, Evan didn’t want her any more than Avery did. Easton men refused to fuck any fuck-ups. If they did, it was only once. So that hard-on Evan was sporting would eventually find its way deep inside Vivian, after Avery plumped and primed her.

“Lovely, Vivian,” Avery directed the Hungarian beauty, “Do you remember your safe word?”

She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“Very good, then. Strip for us, everything but your panties and heels.” Avery took each article of clothing she handed to him, folding the pieces on a small mirrored chest against the wall. Buried in the depths of its drawers, he could help himself to an array of implements. He’d leave those where they were. Julian or Evan could make use of them. All Vivian needed from Avery would be lips, teeth, tongue, and hands.

When she unclasped her bra, he waited patiently as she made a show of shimmying out of underwired lace. No matter the confidence of the woman, it still took courage to bare one’s all in front of strangers, so he nodded encouragingly. Raising his brows in obvious appreciation when high, firm breasts presented themselves. He loved all shapes and sorts of breasts, but he and Dylan preferred them heavy and quite a bit saggy. In this day, natural breasts were hard to come by, and women in their circle kept themselves pencil thin, which was unfortunate. Gently, he took her bra from her hand and placed it with the rest of her clothing.

Marla sent Vivian a scathing glance, muttering nonsense under her breath, so Avery motioned for Ethan to begin her punishment. “You’re up, Evan.”