Page 21 of Masked Sins
Kitty shrugs, blowing a piece of short black hair out of her face. “Anonymity? I dunno. Maybe he’s famous.” She checks her watch. “Go get ready! You’re on in fifteen.”
I return to the dressing room and quickly change into the white Swan Queen costume. I’m just putting my toe pads on when Kitty walks back in with the tiara.
“I almost forgot.” She fits it on my head, securing it tightly. “Merde,” she adds, blowing me a kiss.
Like the minutes before all shows, my stomach erupts in nervous butterflies. I mindlessly start stretching, admiring the new, large bouquet of peonies my father sent today. It’s a bunch of twenty-six stems—one for each year I’ve been alive, I assume. The peonies are always so lovely, perfectly blooming upon every delivery.
They must cost a fortune.
I make a note to chide him for the lavish gift. He doesn’t need to send themeveryday. The entire theater is practically overflowing with peonies by the last performance of the week, not that I mind. Still, he’s on a budget and shouldn’t be spending money on such frivolous things.
When I pick up my phone to text him, the video of Starboy1997 from earlier pops up, distracting me. His location is different in all of them, but they’re all darker spaces that are hard to identify. In one of them, he’s not wearing a hoodie but a long-sleeved black shirt. It clings to his muscles, and without thinking, I hit “like.” His videos are educational and simple. He’s not trying to turn people on, though somehow his presence turnsmeon—a rare feeling.
That doesn’t stop the commenters, though.
Here we gooo. Another masked man to obsess over.
Daddy? Please?
How do you stand so still? And why is it so hot?
Starboy, pls, I am working.
Another video to bring to my therapist.
It’s a damn CRIME that I’m not your sub.
I’m smiling as I scroll. Sometimes Starboy responds, and sometimes he doesn’t. His replies are usually generic, but every once in a while, he throws in some praise or degradation, which makes me chew on my lower lip.
Yes, you did, pretty little cockslut.
That’s right. Well done.
Look at you… such a willing cum rag.
I’m so proud of you.
Who is this guy? And where can I find one in real life?
Someone might be surprised that my biggest sexual fantasy is to be called names. To be corrupted by someone with more experience.
Too bad I hardly ever feel attraction to the men Iactuallygo on dates with.
A quick internet search tells me I’m not the only one curious about Starboy’s identity. With over two million followers, of course people are curious about him. But there’s nothing except that he resides somewhere in the Los Angeles area. Andthatwas only discovered because of the skyline in one of his videos.
A light knock on my dressing room has me locking my phone and turning it face down on my vanity—as if the person on the other side will be able to see through my locked screen.
“Ten minutes,” someone calls from the other side.
I take a deep breath and check my appearance once more before exiting my dressing room and walking toward the stage. There, I forget about the outside world—about everything except what I’m about to do. I wrap my hand around the handle of the stage door when the side door opens, startling me.
To my surprise, my dad pushes the door in—followed closely by Orion.
My heart flutters slightly at the sight of him, but I don’t hold eye contact, instead walking over to my dad and giving him a careful hug.
“I forgot you were coming tonight,” I say quickly, breathless for some reason that has nothing to do with my stepbrother.Nothing at all.
“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?” he asks, grinning widely. “And I brought Orion. He hasn’t ever been to a show.”
