Page 7 of Make Believe

Everything a girl could possibly want.

The drive has spotlights to illuminate the way, and the house itself has warm light glowing from every window. I see several shapes moving behind the blinds, giving me a glimpse of what’s about to come. My heart beats faster, but it’s a good kind of adrenaline.

It might seem strange to some people, but I feel at home in places like this. I’m slightly nervous because I want to have a good time, especially after the atrocious week I’ve had. But I’m not afraid of rejection or humiliation here. It’s more like anxious anticipation of who I’m going to meet and what might happen rather than feeling worried about being exposed and then getting hurt while I’m vulnerable.

One of the husbands, Jason, opens the door and immediately looks me up and down with hungry eyes. “Well, aren’t you just the tastiest treat?” he purrs as he ushers me inside.

“I like to think so,” I agree, fluttering my eyelashes. “Are there any Daddies here tonight you think might gobble me up?”

Jason snorts. “Plenty,” he says with a wink.

Good. I’ve had it with scared little boys. Time to find myself a real man for a night of fun.

One of the distinguishing features of Jason and Markus’s parties is that they’re for everyone. That’s a double win for me. I hate going to ‘male-only’ spaces and then getting treated like shit for being too fem. Equally, parties like tonight’s keep away the kind of ‘gold star’ gays who want to toss their cookies at the mere hint of a vagina or some boobies.

It not only makes the events trans inclusive but also accepting of people of any orientation, even straight people. All kinksters are welcome under this roof. I’ll be honest, I’m almost always looking for a more masculine energy to dominate me, but I know there are those who get confused by my vibe.

There are those who think someone this pretty shouldn’t have a big, juicy cock. They would be wrong.

As usual, there’s a table in the entrance foyer with several glass bowls. Each has different colored rubber bangles inside, although some of them are looking a little diminished. Good. That means lots of people are already here. I wanted to be fashionably late. No point putting this much effort into an outfit if I can’t parade through the house and show it off before I start getting ravaged.

The colors each mean something different, like that you’re looking for a specific gender to play with or you’re open to anything. That you’re a Dom, sub, top, bottom, or again, open to anything. Water sports, bondage, pain play. There’s even one if you’re not here for sex but perhaps some age play or humiliation, or perhaps you just want to be petted and told you’re pretty.

Looking at all the labeled options makes me smile as I think of all the people here tonight feeling free and living their best lives. It makes me proud to be alive in a time and place where we’re able to express ourselves like this without fear of getting arrested or worse. It really wasn’t that long ago when queer people had no rights at all, and there are plenty of places on this planet—hell, in this country—where it’s still dangerous.

Rather than ponder on that sad truth, I select a few bangles and head straight to the kitchen for a refreshment. I’m not drinking alcohol as I want to drive home and, besides, the highs I’m planning to chase will be intoxicating enough. But I do want to stay hydrated for all the wild sex I’m hoping I’ll be having shortly, so I fetch myself a cup of the fruit punch and take a handful of grapes.

I had food before I left the apartment, but I find grapes are perfect for encouraging people to look at my glossy mouth as well as helping keep up my fluid levels. Not to mention making me feel like a cherub from ancient Greece on his way to partake in some debauchery with the god of wine and ecstasy, Dionysus.I smile to myself, secretly thanking Professor Knight for my classics education, which I’m obviously putting to very good use.

The kitchen is off-limits for sexy times for hygiene reasons, but as soon as I start wandering through the rest of the enormous mansion, I’m quickly surrounded by people in various stages of undress, passion, and wickedness.

It’s magnificent.

My cock thickens right away as I watch a veritable feast of fucking. People lying back in seats as they receive oral. Group activities. Bondage and discipline displays. Sweat dripping from skin and moans slipping from throats. The air is thick with sounds and smells, and it feels soaliveto me.

Not everyone is taking part. Plenty are watching, either resting between fun times themselves or taking in the sights like the hosts themselves. There are no rules against drinking, although there are volunteers helping Jason and Markus keeping an eye on everyone to make sure nothing unsafe happens. One of the downstairs rooms houses the main bar, where there are more people relaxing in the shadows than engaging in activities. That’s not to say there isn’tanythingdelicious happening in here. It’s just a little more chilled.

It’s a perfect place for me to take a turn about the room like a real Jane Austen heroine and survey the scene, scouting for potential playdates. My gaze is immediately drawn to an older gentleman in what my gut tells me to be an extremely expensive suit. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot him walking across the room, and I look over my shoulder just in time to see him take a free seat in a plush armchair, sipping on a crystal tumbler of an amber liquid I assume to be whiskey.

He seems like the kind of man to drink whiskey. I can’t say I like the stuff, but I know I want to taste it on his lips.

Then I study his face a moment longer, and my heart more or less stops altogether.

I know this man.

And not as in I’ve seen him around parties like this before or even met him in real life. As in I’ve seen his photo in news articles. As in he was at that protest outside the former mayor’s house last summer.

As in he’s Logan’s dad.

My initial knee-jerk reaction is to flee. The idea of anything to do with Logan being here in my safe space makes me panic. But before I can take more than three steps, I stop myself, frowning and moving into a more secluded corner of the room.

Why does this feel important? What’s stopping me from getting the hell out of here?

Because Logan’s father is extremely wealthy and famous. If it came out that he’s going to parties like this and he’s into kinky shit, surely that would cause a scandal, right?

The kind of scandal that might ruin a man…his family…his son…

Am I seriously considering this? In all my hours of moping over the past week, I’ve been so fixated on how it would feel to get the revenge I promised against Logan. But in my mind, I always skipped past the pesky ‘how’ part. Could it really be this easy? Do opportunities like this actually fall into people’s laps?

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