The Duke's Affair

XVII

When Lauren finally caught sight of someone she thought could have been Henry, it was after midnight. But she wasn't sure at first because of how casually he was dressed. He wore jeans, a tshirt and a pair of converse. But he was built the same and he walked the same. And yes, those were certainly his arms, tanned and gently muscled. She swept up an empty tray from the bar and carried it aloft through the crowd.

"Can I get you a drink Sir?" she asked, and despite the fact that she couldn't see his face, she knew that he was smiling. He pulled her into his arms, gripping her around the waist. Anxiously Lauren looked around, but the crowds were so deep, people thronging about on all sides, that she was sure no one would pay them much heed.

"I don't think waitresses are supposed to talk to punters," he whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

"I don't think punters are supposed to touch the waitresses," she replied, her voice thick with the desire she felt for him. His presence was toxic and she felt herself become utterly powerless in his arms.

"Do you want me to show you what's on offer?" She pushed her hands against her torso and pulled away. "Do you want to know what else happens here?" he repeated.

Lauren rolled her eyes, unsure whether or not Henry could see them properly. All she really wanted was him, but if he wanted to show her the areas she hadn't yet had access to... "Sure," she said, feeling him take her hand in his and squeeze it.

"Where to start..." His voice faded under the throb of the music and Lauren felt herself tugged towards the private rooms, bumping against other masked bodies, naked and clothed alike. Against a pillar in the centre of the room a couple were fucking, their bodies grinding together, and Lauren was sure that if the music stopped she would be able to hear the woman scream.

Henry stopped before a closed door, and Lauren almost bumped into him, her hands on his hips as he opened it. "This is an interesting one," he said, pressing the door open and allowing her to enter first.

The lighting was low and sidelights burned dimly high on the walls. There was no music here, just the sound of groaning, shuddering pleasure. Men and women alike stood, sat or lay on the floor, none touching anyone else, each focussed solely on their own pleasure. Lauren had never seen anything like it.

"Communal masturbation," whispered Henry, pulling her towards him. "What do you think?"

Lauren was mesmerised. The mask gave her, and everyone else in the room, a feeling of safety, protection. What they did in this room wasn't really them. It wasn't the man who kissed his children goodnight or left his wife still sleeping when he went to work in the morning. This was a place of total abandon, of life and of oneself. Lauren wondered whether she could have done it. Could she have lain down amongst them and joined in?

"Have you ever?" She left the question hanging.

"Yes. Often before my father let me actually sleep with one of the women. For hours I watched, and sometimes I joined in. What harm is there in it?"

Lauren said nothing, feeling that her view of what was right and wrong, what was acceptable, had become warped and twisted.

"What else do you want to see?" he whispered, his arms snaked about her waist.

"I don't know what there is."

She heard him chuckle, feeling the movement of his chest at her back as he stood behind her. "Everything."

She spun round in his arms. "I just want you," she said.

"Would you do it if I asked you?" he said, his mask moving slightly as he smiled beneath it.