Green Eyed Daydream #Wattys2016

Chapter 83

3 YEARS LATER

New York -- New Year's Eve

Tyler's POV

I've never liked New Year's Eve parties---a bunch of loud drunk people aggressively imposing a forced celebratory mood on others, all the while pretending to be happy themselves when in reality they're severely depressed and miserable...or maybe it's just me.

The one I am invited to tonight seems like it will be especially painful. It's a black tie affair at the Ritz, where I am staying, which I don't particularly mind, but it also happens to be a masquerade. Grown ups playing dress up is more than a little farcical, but unfortunately I can't back out of this one. I was personally invited by a potential investor, and I'll have to play nice if I want them to back my venture.

Black suit, black shirt, black tie, and now I have to wear this fucking thing....I reach for the black satin mask, and put it on, tying it securely at the back.

Jesus. I look like a damn assassin.

The mask covers a good two thirds of my face, and I'm starting to like this whole incognito thing I got going. Socially, I've been under the radar for months. The last thing I want is to engage in mindless banter with people I don't care about. The feeling of being practically unrecognizable has got definite appeal. Maybe this won't be as bad as I expect it to be.

It's nearly eleven o'clock so, I grab my room key, and head to the club lounge.

When I arrive, I am immediately struck by how seriously some of these people have taken the masquerade theme. Women dressed in elaborate gowns, with feathers, and bejewelled masks; men's masks are less ornate, but nonetheless ridiculous, with some even wearing wigs. It feels more like a high fashion halloween party than a New Year's celebration.

I take a champagne flute from a passing waiter, and continue perusing the jubilant crowd.

"James, is that you?" I hear a purring feminine voice from behind, followed by a gentle tap on my shoulder.

When I turn around I see a busty blonde wearing a revealing, sparkling red dress. Her golden mask is decorated with rhinestones, and an ostrich feather sticking out of the side. It's a little much, but I am too distracted by her giant tits to care about anything else. She smiles widely at me, her unnaturally plump lips covered in vermillion lipstick.

"I am sorry to disappoint, but no," I correct her.

"Oh, I am not disappointed at all. Look at you! You're even better than James!" she squeals, smacking my chest, and nearly spilling the champagne out of her glass. "I hope you stick around for the ball drop, because I will need someone to kiss under the mistletoe at midnight...and you most certainly will do," she says, giving me a wink.

It's clear that this kooky broad is a couple of bottles deep already, and would likely be an easy enough conquest, but I am not in the mood to entertain a drunken mess, no matter how much my dick begs to differ.

"Caroline! There you are! Come on, James is looking for you," a woman in a peacock mask yells, as she grabs the blonde by the arm, and pulls her away.

"Look for me at midnight," she tells me, before being dragged away.

"I will," I lie to her, relieved to be rid of her company.

Finally I spot Joe, the guy who insisted I come to this joke of a party. He's wearing what looks like the phantom of the opera mask, covering half of his face.

We exchange 'hellos', and get down to business. Everything he's saying sounds promising. The only point of contention is that he'd like to be a silent partner in my newly opened Napa restaurant, Tryst.