I STEP INTO THE HOTEL, MY EXPENSIVE DRESS AND MASK ON. I felt like Cinderella. Minus the whole, Prince Charming thing, but the night was young.
There were so many authentic rich people, I started to shift in my place.
But I quickly found my seat-well, June's seat. Hopefully no one would notice me.
Of course, someone noticed me. A tall, tanned man sat beside me, his hazel eyes trained on me.
He said nothing, drinking as the night went on, the music playing in the background. Even as people got up and danced he and I were the only ones, still sitting at the table, pristine white table cloth in front of us.
"Mr. Percy, would you care to dance?"
I didn't dare investigate the sultry voice. No I kept my gaze straight on the band, pretending to be engrossed in the seemingly rhythmless beat.
"Mr. Percy?" The woman asked again.
Finally, he responded, his voice knotted my belly.
"No thank you."
"O-Oh. Next time then."
His accent made the area between my thighs tingle with want.
"What's your name?" He asked.
I finally look his way. His mask is black and elegant, with silver swirls accentuating his dark eyes.
"Call me...Jessie." I reply.
He raises a perfectly arched brow. "Jessie?" He says slowly.
"Odd. But I like it."
I smile softly, saying nothing else.
He averts his attention, and says nothing else for some time.
"It's dull here," he says, glancing at me again.
I swallow. "Why don't you dance?"
"I'm not a dancer," he replies shortly.
I nod. He looks away.
"I'm Benjamin, by the way. Benjamin Percy."
His lips tug up. "What?"
"I'm sorry I've just never heard a more posh name in my life."
He smirks. "Well, my parents are posh people."
I smile. "Was that rude?"
He shrugs. "Maybe, But it was funny. And true."
I chuckle, and so does he. I look away, tucking my hair behind my ear. I clear my throat, not knowing how to sustain the conversation.
"It's hot in here," he remarks lowly. "Wanna take a drink out to the balcony? Get some fresh air?"
I nod. "Sure, that sounds like fun."
He stands, adjusting his tux, before holding out his hand.
Holy shit. This is some real Prince Charming shit right here.
I take it, and I grab my glass as he leads me to the balcony.
I briefly wonder if he's gonna throw me off. Because rich people, according to the TV I've watched, are snobby, misunderstood, or killers.
There's no in between.
I guard my drink just in case.
"So, Jessie, are you liking the ball so far?"
I shrug. "It's nice," the cool air surrounds me.
I sneeze. Holy fuck it's freezing out here.
"Here," he takes his jacket off, wrapping it around my shoulders.
And it's a nice gesture really. But this jacket is as thin as my patience, and does nothing against the cold.
Smells nice though.
"Thank you," I smile.
He smiles back.
We stand on the balcony, and I keep my hand over my drink, slightly away from him.
I'm not getting drugged tonight. Rich people are always deviant too. They have money for sex dungeons and of the side rooms for torture or crazy sex stuff.
"So, What family are you from?"
I clear my throat. "No one you've heard of. As you can see I'm standing in."
He smiles. "Obviously."
Obviously? What do I smell like broke? What the fuck does he mean obviously?
He seems to pick up on my irritation and corrects himself. "I just mean if you were old money I'd know you. High society rules."
"High on something," I murmur.
He chuckles uproariously. I like it. He has a nice laugh. He also has a nice ass.
"So what's your impression of the ball?" He asks.
"The food was alright," I shrug.
"Yeah. Well, you pay a lot for things that sound fancy, but taste like shit. I'd rather eat McDonald's," he quipped.
"Really? Wouldn't you prefer escargot? Caviar? Things you have to develop a taste for?"
He shakes his head. "Listen, let me tell you something: anytime someone says you have to develop a taste for something it means it's nasty and you just have to get used to it."
I giggle. "Well now I know."
He smiles, his dimples poking through.
Oh he is...
"Jessie?" He says lowly, moving closer.
"Uh-Huh?" I whisper moving in as well.
"It maybe be the champagne, or the crappy music, but...I really want to kiss you. Are amendable to that?"
I nod breathlessly. This is my Cinderella moment. The kiss with the man I'll never see again except once upon a dream.
"Yes," I whisper.
He leans in, placing his lips on mine every so gently. It's beautiful. I feel electricity flowing through me, buzzing for my finger tips.
He leans in more, pulling me into his embrace deeper, as if he couldn't get enough. Hell, I couldn't get enough.
He pulls back. "I completely understand if you say no to my proposition, because it's impolite and inappropriate especially for the time we've known each other, which spans all of...60 minutes? But would you like—"
"To go to your house where we can have sex until morning after which you'll call a cab and we'll never see each other again?" I finish. "Absolutely."
He smiles. "Then it's settled. Let's get going."
"I left my purse at the seat," I tell him.
"We'll grab it on the way out, it's not like we can jump of the balcony," he grins.
He chuckles, taking my hand. We hustle past the seat where he smoothly grabs my bag and we get in a cab.
I briefly consider he could be a serial killer and that is kinda being a slut, having known him not even an hour.
I glance over at him. I'd say I'm a good judge of character but...my exes don't agree. There's like a fifty-fifty chance I'll have good sex.
But the other 50% is like...death.
"You okay? It's alright if you don't want to go through with this. Please don't feel pressured," he smiles soothingly.
I looked up at him. "I'm just considering whether you're just an attractive axe-murderer."
He chuckles lowly. "If you don't feel safe, we can just take you home."
I shake my head. "No I want to have sex with you."
"Would you prefer we stop at a third party location? Perhaps a hotel?" He suggests.
He sounds so fucking rich. It's either irritating or attractive but I can't tell which.
"I'd pay of course."
I frown. "I could pay."
"I have no doubt. But of the two of us, I'm certain I've access to a bit more funds."
Well...what the fuck ever.
"Hm...you don't know my bank account."
He rubs the back of his neck. "I think we should take you h—"
I kiss him. Maybe he'll kill me. But isn't that what we all need? A little death? I'm a millennial I've been wishing for death since I was born.
This is fine.
"This is fine," I explain.
He cocked his head. "Are you sure? Take your time. Think it over."
I nod resolutely. "I want to do this."