Strokes At Midnight Read online

  Strokes at Midnight

  Jennifer August

  Published by Jennifer August, 2010.

  Thank you for purchasing Strokes at Midnight. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All characters portrayed are of legal age of consent for sex – i.e. over 18.

  Copyright © Jennifer August

  First electronic printing July 2011

  Cover by So Write Designs

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

  Legal stuff ... done! Happy reading!

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “I cannot believe I’m about to walk out there totally naked. This is so not me.” Kelsea Pfeiffer shook her head, threatening to dislodge her precisely re-created Cinderella updo, complete with glittering blue headband.

  “You are not naked,” Terri Black, artist extraordinaire said, exasperation clear in her voice. ‘You are Cinderella, a beautifully painted, completely covered Cinderella.”

  “Besides,” Gina Patterson, co-conspirator and similarly painted Bo Peep chimed in behind her, “You’ve got a thong on.”

  “Your status as best friend is in serious jeopardy, you know that, right? Oh my God, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. My father will absolutely kill me.”

  Terri groaned and stalked away muttering under her breath about ruined gallery openings and very large glasses of wine. Or was that large whining asses?

  “Trust me, Kels, your father is never going to know about this. How could he? He’s safely at home in South Carolina, millions of miles away from New York and the City.”

  Kelsea arched a brow. “His pet watchdog never seems to have trouble finding me. You know how many promises and safety measures I had to go through just to move out of the house, Gina. After all these years, do you honestly think Father is just going to turn a blind eye?”

  “Did you talk to him this week?”

  “Yes, told him I’d be home next month for Thanksgiving like I promised.” Her heart raced as adrenalin pumped through her veins. “I’m just too used to looking over my shoulder, you know? Wondering when the Big Bad Wolf is going come in and tear me away from my fun and friends and trot me back to Father’s house.”

  “Wrong fairytale, Cinderella, even though that particular wolf is quite handsome and charming.”

  Kelsea sucked in a breath. Yeah, he was. Not to mention aloof, arrogant and the sexiest damn man she’d ever set eyes upon. Not to mention completely unattainable. She looked away from Gina, not wanting her to see the longing she couldn’t hide. He’d always be her wistful dream, her fantasy man.

  “And quit worrying, no one is going to know you’re here. Hell, I’m your best friend and even I can’t tell it’s you underneath all that make up. Terri did a great job. You actually look just like the chick in the books and stories. Uncanny.” Gina patted her bare but glimmering shoulder. “Be honest, sweetie, you’re excited. This is such a rush. No one in their right mind would believe it of us.”

  “That’s for damn sure and this thong is umm, interesting.” Kelsea resisted the urge to pull the teeny scrap of blue-painted fabric from the newly-shaven spaces it occupied.

  Gina laughed. “Wild, huh? I’ve always loved the way that feels, you know?”

  Kelsea was glad for the heavy make-up covering her face. Even if it was just stage blush, it hid the real thing blazing in her cheeks. Truth was, shaving her honey curls had been quite intense. Thank heavens she’d been able to do it herself, after proper instructions that included a freakin’ illustrated chart.

  It had taken her a long time, a very long time to finish shaving her pussy bald. She’d had to stop and finger herself to at least three orgasms before every bit of hair was gone. And she could still feel the after-moisture in her pussy.

  “Yeah, I know.” They shared a grin.

  “All right, I gotta go find my sheep or whatever Little Bo Peep has. Remember our rules?”

  Kelsea rolled her eyes. “Don’t accept drinks from anyone, get as many phone numbers as possible and be on the lookout for a great one-night stand...”

  Gina dashed a pretend tear from her eye. “That’s my girl. Back in a sec!”

  Kelsea watched her disappear through the black curtain, ghoulishly decorated with rubber skeletons and dancing eyeballs, before turning back to her reflection, the slight movement causing her slick inner folds to rub against each other. She squelched a groan.

  Though she’d grown up masturbating to late night soft porn movies, she’d never really explored her own body as intimately as she had these last few weeks. Ever since leaving her father’s house and striking out for the City, she’d learned one new thing after another about herself, but despite all the self-exploration she still had a frustrating sense of longing. Nothing she could put her finger on, literally, but something was missing.

  Tonight was just one more bit of soul-searching – agreeing to Gina’s wild notion of being body-painted like Cinderella and out on full display during the Halloween party. She’d promised it would be a small gathering with a mix of businessmen, artists, serious art buyers and party girls. All there to admire Terri’s handiwork, hear about her upcoming gallery open and partake of the open bar. Invitation Only and no one on that list would know her. The allure of anonymity gave her the push she’d needed to do it. And now, she was damn glad, if unsettled, she had.

  After her mother died, Kelsea spent years trying to be her father’s perfect little miss; raised and bred to be a genteel southern lady whose only jobs were to oversee her immaculate household, make a career out of volunteering and stand by her man. Even in college, Kelsea stayed at home, making the forty minute daily commute. That was her first taste of freedom, of the real, adult world. She reveled and rebelled, with each day bringing a new experience, a new lesson and a new insight into herself.

  Kelsea grinned and fingered a glued-on crystal. She wasn’t sure who’d been more surprised when she announced she was moving out, but her father took it extremely well. Almost too well.

  It had taken some doing, but after a week’s worth of logical discussion on her part, a well-thought out plan of action and her mother’s stubborn streak, he’d finally agreed.

  Three months later, here she was. The big city.

  Alone.

  Free.

  Naked.

  Kelsea checked herself out in the mirror again and had to admit, she looked good. Terri had done a breathtaking job of re-creating the famous blue and white sparkling ball gown, minus a few yards of material, of course. The bodice dipped and showed a lot more than any adaptation she’d ever seen, but it was a truly sexy take on a classic. Terri had even found some small rhinestones, gluing them here and there for maximum eye-drawing placement. Despite her nudity, Kelsea felt comfortable in the coverage. Thought, the paint was lightweight, it didn’t remove easily. Terri warned them it would take soap and a bit of elbow grease to get it off. Several times already she’d touched and been touched and none of it had come off.

  The “skirt” of her gown was
painted a deep blue that gradually lightened as it swept up her legs. Terri incorporated what appeared to be the folds of the gown, making it look like the dress swayed as she walked. Over and under her tiny thong, she’d been colored various shades of paler blue, nipping her waist in even further before flaring back into the deeper blue of her bodice. Her breasts were artfully painted into the top of the gown, their round fullness neatly concealed. Her nipples, tight from both anticipation and the chilly air, were the same shade of blue, making them disappear into the top of the gown unless one looked very closely. And Terri planned to increase that visual exploration by adding shimmering bits of glitter into the mix. Straying just a bit from the royal vision, Kelsea bore faux black gloves up to her mid-arm.

  Kelsea lifted a hand to her neck, fingers hovering over the black band encircling her neck – before tonight she’d never realized that Cinderella wore it. The band looked more like a collar to her. Like the ones the models wore on the various BDSM sites she visited. A lot of the girls in the forums she belonged to had pictures that showed them in similar accessories.

  She stroked the black band.

  BDSM wasn’t something she had explored much, but the dark temptation was definitely there. She was interested, very interested, in the various aspects of that lifestyle. She’d been paying attention to what turned her on the most. Spanking, yes. Floggers, yes. Nipple clamps, ball gags, rope bondage, blindfolds, giving up control, all of it spoke to her.

  There were some things, though, that she didn’t think she’d ever be up for and that included the notion of calling some man Master. When she finally found a man, a real man and not one in her fantasy life, she wanted him to be strong, in control and yet, not looking to dominate her.

  She laughed. She wanted to play the submissive, but not be dominated. What a dork.

  “All right, girls,” Terri yelled, clapping her hands. All the fairy tale models stopped talking and faced her. “Gather up your accessories and shoes. It’s nearly show time. Remember to talk about my gallery show next week.” She reminded them of the date, time and location as Kelsea slid on her “glass” slippers made of acrylic with three-inch heels.

  Gina slipped between the girls and handed over the blue and white fan that Kelsea would carry during the BooBash. “Just what your fairy godmother ordered!”

  She flipped it open, swishing it with practiced ease, idly wondering if she’d find a Prince Charming tonight. As soon as she thought it, she scolded herself. The whole reason she’d left South Carolina behind was to find out who she really was, as clichéd as she’d insisted to Gina that was. Rarely had anyone looked past her last name and connections to the real her and she was tired of it. She suspected this was true of nearly all her old high school friends and beaus. Especially them. And she’d tolerated enough of invisibility to last her a lifetime.

  Making the move to the city was done with her own preservation in mind and that did not involve finding anyone to start a relationship with.

  Besides every woman knew Prince Charming existed only in fairy tales and fantasies.

  “Kelsea, you ready?”

  Thankful for Gina’s disruption of her thoughts, Kelsea nodded, pushing aside her fears – mostly. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Two

  “I didn’t think it would be so crowded,” Kelsea whispered, holding the fan in front of her mouth.

  Gina poked her in the ribs, the feeling odd on her bare, painted flesh. “Go, mingle, have fun.”

  With that, she twirled and left, wicked laughter trailing her.

  “Damn it,” Kelsea muttered and looked back at the curtain. Maybe she could sneak away and no one would notice. The skeletons grinned back as if silently mocking her.

  Her legs quaked, hell her entire body shook, mostly on the inside. Kelsea drew a deep breath and forbade herself from running. Tonight was the beginning of the end of running.

  “My, my,” a man drawled to her left. “I don’t remember Cinderella ever looking quite so ... inviting.”

  Oh boy, here we go.

  Kelsea snapped the fan closed and turned toward the voice, mustering a smile. “Well, it’s a princess’s duty to be welcoming, isn’t it?”

  The young blonde man stepped a bit closer, fisting a glass of champagne. His costume for the Halloween party was sparse, consisting only of a dark tie with glow-in-the-dark ghosts and goblins. “How welcoming?”

  His green eyes sparkled with what she thought were one too many sips of his drink. Uh-oh.

  “Well, that depends, of course, on the visitor.” She scooted slightly away and he followed.

  “I’m very good,” he said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Her brows shot up and Kelsea glared at him, then sighed, realizing she was going to have to revert to all those Lady-of-the-Manor lessons she’d endured growing up. Lifting her head imperiously, she tipped her chin toward the bar. “Be a good boy, then, and fetch me something to drink.”

  “Anything,” he said and rushed away.

  Kelsea relaxed for a second before her muscles seized and the hair on the back of her neck stirred.

  “Well done, but then he’s just a young pup with no training.”

  The smooth masculine voice held a low note of authority and her heart skipped harder, like a kid with a jump rope.

  Kelsea licked her lips and swallowed hard before daring to turn around.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, staring incredulously at Gage Barringer. He’d found her! Panicked, she grabbed at her fan, exhaling a shaky breath as she held it to her face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered. She was in so much trouble.

  Gage Barringer – a.k.a. the Big Bad Wolf—stood in front of her looking as lean and dangerous as ever. Talk about fantasies. Her father’s business associate was the one man she’d never really been able to wrap around her finger, the one who never fell for her southern honeyed hospitality.

  She’d decided early on – probably just about the time she hit ten, that the then 20-year old was everything a man should be. Tall, strong, good-looking, courteous and mysterious. The few sleepovers she’d had involved a lot of giggling over him, though none of her other friends ever saw the allure.

  She hadn’t seen him in nearly three months and he looked devastatingly handsome as always. He easily stood three inches over six feet and with the wide shoulders and physique of an athlete he seemed to dominate the space, sucking out all the air. It was something she never really got used to.

  “Uh, hel, hello,” she stuttered. Holy crap, she was naked! Kelsea couldn’t stop herself from looking down at her own body, seeing past the paint to the bare flesh. She was standing in front of him naked – her own private fantasy come true. Well, she thought, not quite like this. The air turned harsh and difficult to breathe and for a nano-second, spots danced in front of her eyes.

  Then Gage smiled that dark, enigmatic half-smile of his. The one where the left side of his lips quirked up just a hint and the fullness of his bottom lip came forward. His brow rose and his deep blue eyes flashed.

  “Good evening. Would you care for a drink?” His smile widened a bit, one she knew meant he was truly amused. “Before your lapdog gets back?”

  His eyes roamed up and down her body and the hand dug deep into the pocket of his slacks moved back and forth, a sure sign he was about to pounce. She’d seen him in this exact posture a hundred times in the boardroom and it always spelled trouble for his prey.

  “My lapdog?” she repeated, stalling for time, wondering how in the world she would explain this to him. Wondering even more what he thought, because he still hadn’t stopped eyeing her. The third time he swept her visually, that magnetic gaze lingering on her breasts, Kelsea’s jaw nearly dropped.

  He didn’t recognize her!

  What in the hell did she do now?

  “Uh, sure?” Smooth, Kels, real smooth.

  Gage’s teeth flashed briefly and he reached for her arm then hesitated. “The paint won’t rub off if I touch i
t, will it? I wouldn’t want to ruin your delightful costume.”

  No way in hell did he know it was her. The knowledge was heady in its power. Kelsea relaxed and decided to have a bit of fun with Mr. Barringer. He didn’t know who she was, but she knew he liked what he saw. For the first time in their relationship, he wasn’t hooded and unreadable. Why not flirt like mad with him? At least for this one night.

  “Oh, it’s very touchable,” she murmured, pitching her voice a hitch lower than normal. She slid her arm through the crook of his crisp white shirt. “I must say, I’m parched. A drink would be wonderful.”

  He studied her for an intent moment before nodding. “In that case, shall we?”

  During the short walk across the room, Kelsea did her best to burn every word, every moment and every touch into her brain. She wanted to remember this. With subtle strokes, she wrapped her fingers around his strong forearm, absorbing the tautness and solidity. He had magnificent forearms. Muscled, lean, the kind that could catch a woman, hold her and never let her down. Or up.

  Yum.

  Each stride across the floor, she inched closer to him until their hips rubbed just the tiniest bit and their legs met. She squashed a nervous giggle and pulled her shoulders back as they reached the bar. Regretfully, she let go as he turned to order, handing her a glass of white wine.

  Even though he hadn’t asked her preference, she sipped thankfully at the wet, cool wine, fingering the long stem and globe with her thumb. “Mm, wonderful, thank you.”

  He took her arm again and eased her away from the bar, out of the flow of dressed and painted bodies. The noise level dropped as they stepped nearer a deserted alcove. “You’re welcome. Sit down.”

  It wasn’t really a question, more like a command, but her shoes were already starting to bite just a little, so she smiled and sank gratefully onto the padded bench.

  “Oh damn,” she whispered as her thong tightened. She really didn’t think she could deal with both the sensation of the material rubbing against her newly-shaved pussy lips and the over-whelming masculinity of Gage. Hell, she was already moist again, just from his presence. And her nipples hadn’t relaxed from the second she’d turned to find him behind her.