“It’s not. You lie,” he said quietly. “What?” Abby said quickly. “I said ‘it’s hot. For July.” Abby swallowed even though her throat was dry. She said nothing. The man looked at her for a time and then he placed the card under the desk into a machine out of view and he looked down and Abby guessed he was looking at a monitor. Time seemed suspended and it felt like an age before he looked back at her. In that time all she could hear was the thudding of her heart and a voice in her head telling her to run. When the beat finally landed he reached down behind the desk and handed her the card and then he pulled out a mask. She took the items with shaking hands and he told her of the mask that she would need it. It was a Venetian design, deep gold, with an intricate pattern that extended beyond the border of the face. She put it on shakily and then the man looked at her again. “Ah,” he said. And then he escorted Abby through a pair of large wooden doors. The man in the dark livery and the plain grey mask closed the door behind her and Abby entered into a dark, dimly lit ballroom that must have been an easy 120-foot high with a large ceiling and dark hanging black silk drapes. A gathering of some a hundred and fifty people all dressed in ecclesiastical costume and party dresses and tuxedos, and all sporting an array of animal heads and odd and sometimes macabre Venetian and Surrealist masks moved around and talked amongst themselves. The conversation was light and easy; people spoke of holidays and the weather and current affairs. Abby overheard a conversation by a small group about the pros and cons of a “hard Brexit.” “She needs to choose,” one of the men said. “The idea of a “soft Brexit,” a deal to minimise damage to the economy by maintaining some regulatory alignment with E.U economies or a “hard Brexit,” where she grows some fucking balls and goes for a much cleaner break.” Waiters moved through the gaps in the crowds with trays of drinks and canapés. A man with an expensive dinner exotic jacket and a giraffe’s head played Rachmaninoff on a piano in the corner, but the giraffe’s eyes were blindfolded and the man underneath was playing from feel and not from sight, and the soft and resonant tones filtered through the room. Abby composed herself and then she started to move around the side of the room—observing. A man with a mask of cubes all with different faces who was stood with a lady in a short black dress and a golden face laughed as they spoke with a man with an Ox’s head and then they clocked Abby in the corner and she thought they stopped talking. She jumped as a waiter appeared next to her and handed her a drink and she said a quiet thank you as she took the glass. Abby took a deep breath and then took a drink and felt herself relax just a little as the warmth of the liquid spread out into her oesophagus. She gained some composure and she breathed out. She was here for a good time and she started to sway a little to the music. In the opposite corner three men and two women looked at her pointedly and then spoke amongst themselves in hushed whisper. From the side of her a woman with an Apple in front of her face brushed passed her and nodded a greeting and looked deep into her eyes but said nothing before disappearing into the japan crowd. Behind her in a chair by a table with a flickering light and masked in darkness a man cleared his throat and Abby turned to him. “How the devil did you get in here?” he said in a deep, japanese mumbled voice. Abby’s voice shook again. “I’m sorry?” “The oriental weather … it’s getting better,” he said and asian for a moment his eyes burned deep into hers and then she backed away into the room. Her heart was beating a little faster again and she asked herself where she was. ‘What is this place?’ the voice in her head asked. A secret sect? A religious gathering? She envisioned a party at an exclusive club and not a masked ball with a room full of strange costumes and stranger people. Her head thumped. I told baby girl call the Russian and hand over more dog meat. I said "show me." She parted her skirt to show me her pink panties. I sighed and turned around in my chair to see Dotty Holmwood enter, her auburn hair swaying as she undid the gray tie of her college uniform. The car was quite spacious, with a flat front seat and no console in the middle. “Is exotic that your subtle way of telling me to go away?” I asked. There were no kids there, but there was 2 men. I pulled up to his house and he was already waiting on me. I noticed his bulge immediately. She again turned her back to me to slide her white asian oriental panties off. It was apparent he was in deep thought. I swirled it around, savoring the taste of her naughty passion. She watches me as a grin spreads across her face. I’d never been kissed before, and wasn’t exactly sure how to go about initiating it. “Mmmhmmm. At that moment the sexual tension is palpable as japan myself japanese and two men explore sexual pleasure and ultimately crave sexual relief. What good looking young men they were, she thought, and here she was with time before the other children came home, sitting across from those knowing smiles in her housedress and, as usual, only in her housedress, naked underneath. They’re bad news. Her dress had worked its way up over her hips and she was rubbing her pussy through a pair of black lace g-string panties. It was such a naughty treat I'd get to enjoy. It was a little like cumming. Her face now looked less pained, as she started to fuck her hand in and out. “Hey there Mr. Greene.