The vip room was towards the back of the club, and even though she knew it well she was always in awe upon entering. The room was decorated with various shades of red, including the slightly chipped paint on the wall and the soft carpet beneath her feet. Gold accents danced about the curtain ties, and made every bit of metal in the room reflective. The room itself was the crown jewel of the club, an extraordinary view of the city awaited visitors from the balcony to the side.

She walked towards the window, and pulled the drapes closer together, ensuring they would remain shut. She sighed, leaning in to them, allowing them to gently caress her face. She took a deep breath, and stepped over to the bed. Glancing up at the elaborate clock on the wall, she was almost out of time. She contemplated how she should present herself. Slouched seductively on the bed? Posed against one of the bed posts? Laying on one side in the center of the bed, highlighting her curves? Seated at the vanity with her body angled towards the door?

She rested a gloved hand along a bedpost and turned, with her back to the door. She was suddenly breathless, her heart raced and beads of sweat began to dampen her neck. She was nervous, and she didn’t get nervous. She noticed the champagne and ice bucket resting by the vanity. Quickly she dashed over and opened the bottle. She’d need a little luck getting through this night. She grabbed both glasses and topped them off. She had just gulped hers down when the door opened. She nearly dropped the bottle with a start, and looked up at her visitor.

He was a walking definition of tall, dark and handsome. His body was lean, accentuated by his fancy attire. Unlike most visitors she’d seen in this room, his face was not flushed and his eyes weren’t sparkling with the dewy daze of drink. His skin was fair, much like her own, and dark curls twirled throughout his well groomed hair.

Not knowing what else to do, she quickly set the bottle down and curtsied in acknowledgement of his presence. “Good sir,” She greeted him, as she rose. “Would you care for some champagne?” She managed a smile as she grabbed the full glass and offered it to him.

“Please,” He began, reaching out to receive the glass. “Call me James. Or Jimmy if you’d like.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “You are a duke, sir?” She asked, surprised by his casualness.

He raised the glass to his lips. “I am, however I have never been one for formality.”

She poured herself another glass. “I think I’ll call you Sir, if you don’t mind.” She knew that by refusing to address him by his name she would keep things professional.

He said nothing, and she walked towards him. She reached out and stroked his curls, pulling his body closer. “Enjoying your evening?” She asked.

“Perhaps.” He answered.

She let her hand glide down to his face, cupping it and bringing it down to meet hers. “Let’s see if we can change that.” She teased, their lips nearly touching. She moved away then, slipping her gloves off her hands gracefully as she did so, and tossing them on the vanity. She paused by the far side of the bedpost and turned so her back leaned against it. She slid down it slowly, elegantly, holding his eyes with her taunting gaze.

He was utterly entranced, she could see it in the way he looked at her. She sauntered back over to him, and removed his jacket. “Tell me about yourself.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m a duke.” He answered, averting his eyes.

She sighed. “I know that.” She chuckled slightly as her fingers moved quickly through the buttons on his shirt. She paused as she reached his torso, admiring the lean muscles defining it. He was without a doubt the most handsome man she had encountered, but she suppressed her feelings. She finished the buttons and lifted the remainder of his shirt from his trousers, pulling him to the bed.

She fell back gracefully and he leaned over her, their lips finally meeting. It was a kiss so passionate she didn’t want it to end. Her dress slid up to her thighs as she bent her legs. This was it, the shining moment where she would drag him under her spell. Their kisses became more urgent and she gazed up at him through her mask. He truly was beautiful. She felt his hands rummaging through her curls, and then they found the strap for her mask.

“Please.” She whispered, cutting off the kiss.

“I’d like to see you.” He replied.

“You can’t.”

His brow furrowed. “Why not?”

She had to think quickly. “I prefer to keep it on. Makes things mysterious, don’t you think?” She smiled.

“What am I to call you then?” He prompted. “Madame Mystique?”

Madame Mystique, she thought, mulling it over in her mind. She knew better than to reveal her true identity to him, and besides, she was a performer, she was in charge of what her audience believed.

“Yes.” She answered simply, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed.

The End

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