Penetrated by the Alien Page 5

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  Seduced by Two Magicians

  By Celia Styles

  I fluffed my hair in the mirror one last time, and dabbed at my lipstick with my ring finger; well, I might be hitting the town without my fiancé tonight, but at least I looked damned good.

  My heart did a little, unhappy leap when I remembered that Victor and I wouldn’t be spending our big, make-or-break trip together; that said, it could hardly come as a surprise to anyone who had been paying attention over the last few weeks.

  Victor and I had been together for two and a half years when he’d proposed. And it had been as romantic and perfect you could hope for; after a quiet dinner, on a bridge, in Paris, where he’d swept me away for a short surprise break last year. And of course I said ‘yes’; this was a guy who I’d been in love with for years. There was no way I was going to turn down the chance to make him mine for life.

  And then came the commitment phobia. I guess that a lot of people would argue that, since Vic proposed to me, he had quite the opposite of commitment phobia; to those people, I say it’s amazing what the prospect of actually marrying your girlfriend will do to a man. And it wasn’t as if he’d hired a bunch of prostitutes and fucked them in my living room (though sometimes I wish he had, just because at least then it would have made a good story). No, it was nothing as interesting as that. But Victor started flirting with my friends whenever they came over, spending more money that he specifically had on drink and pot, and generally doing all the low-level shitty things that dumb fiancés who haven’t thought about how their future wives might feel about all this have been known to do. And, though before I had consoled myself with the knowledge that I could get the hell out whenever I wanted with no real kickback, it was different now. I had officially said yes to spending the rest of my life with this.

  There was a nagging little voice in the corner of my mind that told me I shouldn’t have said yes, but that voice became pretty insistent by the time I picked up Vic’s phone to answer it and heard an unfamiliar woman on the other end. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad, but the look on his face when I went to pass on the message was enough to tell me that he felt guilty, even if he hadn’t actually done anything yet. Her name was India and he had met her through his work as a music promoter; she was a singer-songwriter, he was the skeevy older man who kept his number on his phone a little too long.

  I’m sure you can picture what came next for yourself; screaming, yelling, shouting, bawling. There was a falling out. There might have been some storming-off and some slamming of doors (guilty as charged). But it wasn’t long till Vic had convinced me to let him take me on an all-expenses paid trip to Atlantic City, courtesy of the label he was working for. He got to poke around a few new bands, I got to soak up the sun, sex, and gambling of this knockoff Las Vegas. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best reason to give the relationship one last parting shot, but hey, it was a holiday. So I booked the time off work and hopped on a plane, letting Vic book up an expensive hotel on the label and ordering champagne through room service as soon as we walked through the door.

  Then, of course, the reality of actually trying to pull off a make-or-break holiday set in. Within minutes, Vic was out the door and on the phone while I sipped on the cheap champagne, wondering if we would get to have make-up sex on the hotel bed. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to or not, but felt like I probably should.

  Then, of course, Vic came wandering back in, shoving his phone to the bottom of his pocket, with that look of “oops-I-did-something-bad-ask-me-so-I-don’t-have-to-bring-it-up” I’d seen only a few days before.

  “Vic,” I asked, trying to stay calm, “Who was that on the phone?”

  He looked down, scuffing his feet on the carpeted floor before he answered. I knew even before the words came out of his mouth what his answer was going to be.

  “Um, I was talking to Wanda.”

  Wanda. Fucking Wanda. After all this time, and all those rows, Vic could never quite seem to shake the allure of his ex-wife. I’d met her, and sure, I totally understood why Vic still pined after her as much as he did- she was tanned, tall, smart, with the kind of smile that made you want to split your face in half just to match her. But it wasn’t until that very moment that I realized why she and Vic had broken up; because she was way, way too good for him.

  “Vic,” I snarled, climbing out from the rubble of the suitcase I’d been unpacking.

  “Rachel, please, you know she called me, and-”

  “Like goddamn hell she did!” I exploded. “I know just as well as you do that Wanda has no fucking time for you any more, just like most women in the world, and that you were calling her because you wanted to make sure you couldn’t find your way back into her pants before you shacked up with me for good!”

  “Look, I admit I called her, but it wasn’t like that,” wheedled Victor.

  “Oh come on, Vic, let’s not make pretend any more. Maybe I should just fuck off for a while so you can go listen to your precious bands. Hey, maybe one of them’ll suck your dick, ‘cause I sure as hell won’t!” I snapped, grabbing a skimpy dress and heels and stuffing them in my handbag. If I was going to be stuck in Atlantic City on the brink of a break-up with my fiancé, then I wanted to at least look good. Hey, maybe I might even end up getting laid. I barely suppressed a grin at the thought. C’mon, Rachel, you’re not even out of his room yet.

  Grabbing a handful of make-up, I swung the long strap of my handbag over my shoulder and stomped past Vic. “Have a great time in Atlantic City, you douche. Don’t expect to see me back here any time soon.”

  I brushed by him and out the door, slammed it, then leaned back against the wall outside, letting out a deep, long breath. That had felt way better than it had any right to- sure, I had just broken up with my fiancé, and my heart twinged a little when I thought of it that way. But I had just chucked Vic, and when I thought of it like that, I wanted to dance up the corridor and sing out loud. It was about time that the dumb bastard got what was coming to him. I was pretty sure that this meant I didn’t have to marry him now. Thank God we never set a date or sent out invitations.

  Stamping down to the hotel lobby, I found a bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes I’d grabbed from my suitcase. A short, black and blue dress that skimmed over my curves, tight around the breasts and ass, along with some towering black cage heels that made any outfit look badass. While Atlantic City probably wasn’t the best place for a stylist like me to display her wares, it wouldn’t hurt to know that I looked smoking hot as I hit the town. Fuck it, I had nothing to lose, and I might as well have some fun while I was there.

  Slipping on my heels, I inspected my make-up in the mirror. Re-touching my eyeliner, I slicked on a layer of blackberry-purple lip stain and wiggled another coat of mascara over my eyes. Stepping back so I could admire myself, I had to admit I didn’t look half bad. Fluffing out my dark brown, breast-length hair, I pulled my dress down so it showed a little more cleavage (of which I had plenty), and smoothed it over my ass so it showed off every curve. I didn’t work this hard for this body so I could hide it every day. But the main thing I noticed in my reflection was the sparkle in my eye; the kind of look that said “hey, anything could happen tonight, because you just dumped your good-for-nothing fiancé”. And that was a look I really liked. Only one more touch- I slid my engagement ring off my finger, and left it sitting next to the sink. I didn’t need it any more.

  Marching out into the lobby, I caught a couple of heads turning to look my way- damn, that felt good. I usually avoided looking as straight-up sexy as this, but it was awesome to be noticed, and the feeling sent a little shiver of excitement through my whole body, spreading over my belly a
nd down my groin. It had been a long time since I’d last had good sex, and I promised myself that tonight I would find someone to hook up with. Maybe now was the time to explore those fun lesbian fantasies I was always having? Slow down, I thought to myself- you’ve only just broken up with him, and you’re here for three nights. Might as well spread out the debauchery a little.

  The hotel was attached to one of the bigger casinos in the area, and, as I stepped out on to the floor, I could see why this was such a popular destination. It was opulent in a completely over-the-top way, packed with gilded gold this and deep scarlet that, the whole room studded with that kind of cheap luxury that generally leads directly into dirty sex in a hotel room after a big win and a lot of cocktails. Or maybe I was just getting a bit ahead of myself. I sincerely hoped not.

  Suddenly, I spotted a large, bustling crowd across the room, packed around a garish pair of auditorium doors. There must have been a couple of hundred people, at least, and there were more people gravitating towards the crowd from across the room. What the hell was going on in there that made it so special?

  Wandering over to one of the many bars peppered around the casino, I casually glanced over at the sign over the auditorium door. In glittering gold letters, it read “White & Brown”.

  Well, even for me, those were two names that didn’t need any introduction. White and Brown were one of those double-acts that became eponymous with the industry they were working in; Laurel and Hardy for comedy, Woodward and Bernstein for journalism, and White and Brown for magic. I had never been much of a fan of magic myself, but the thought of getting a few cocktails and shooting glances at handsome strangers as the night wore on was very tempting, so I casually wandered over and joined the queue. It was surprisingly liberating to be doing this by myself.

  Suddenly, the crowd surged forward in one motion as the doors opened. There was a rush for seats near the front, and I idly wandered to the middle till I found a one-seater table that gave me a perfect view of the stage. Catching the eye of a passing waiter, I asked for a rum and coke- make that a double- and settled back in my seat. Now that I thought about it, I remembered spotting White and Brown posters up at my local theatre, and almost losing my train of thought as I ogled at the pair of handsome men that stared back at me, grinning mischievously. Hmm. Maybe I wouldn’t have to look too far to share some meaningful looks tonight. The waiter arrived with my drink, and I took a long sip, trying not to grin to myself, as the lights went down. Damn, that was quick; I wanted to scope out any surrounding hotties to flirt with during the show. Oh well, I would just have to try and enjoy the magic for what it was.

  Then, of course, I saw them.

  When Eric White and Oliver Brown stepped out on to stage, it was if the whole world was holding its breath for a moment. And then there were cheers; thundering, explosive cheers, the likes of which I had never heard before, as the room rang with applause and whistles. But I couldn’t move. These were two of the best-looking men I had ever seen in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I was staring with openly carnal appreciation at these two fantastic specimens of male beauty. Eric White was definitely the more conventionally handsome of the pair, with a strong jaw and long nose that spoke to generations of good breeding, and Oliver had the more distinctive face; with big brown eyes and a face-splitting grin, I could have sworn that he looked directly at me in those few moments before the applause died down. They were both wearing old-fashioned tuxedos, dressed to the nines, and I felt glad that I’d put on my best dress. Shifting up in my seat, I stared at them, hoping for another glance or a look. Hell, if they needed an audience participant, they could be damn sure that I would be beating off anyone who dared tried to get in the way of my big moment. Eric held his hands up, calling for silence. The noise in the room slowly dimmed down to nothing.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I am Eric White, and this is my partner, Oliver Brown. And tonight, we want you to be the first to enjoy our new show- Tales of the Unexpected.”

  He was momentarily drowned out by a spontaneous round of applause. I was surprised by how passionate people seemed to be, but then, this was a packed-out show for two of the most instantly recognisable magicians in the world. Just because it wasn’t the first thing I’d have chosen to do didn’t mean that some people weren’t crazy about it. I pulled my brain back into focus as Eric continued to talk.

  “Over the course of this evening, Oliver and I will be weaving many a tale- from tales of loves lost and found again, to tales of wanton debauchery the likes of which most of you will never even be able to imagine.”

  Try me, I thought.

  “So, settle in, and be prepared for a show which will have your mind doing somersaults and your eyes playing tricks on you. Are you ready for a night of magical entertainment?”

  There was a deafening cheer from the audience around me.

  “Very good. Oliver, shall we begin?”

  Eric turned to his partner, and they exchanged a tiny smile, the kind you could only see if you were sitting as closely and watching as intently as I was. I wondered what kind of relationship they had; friends? Lovers? I shivered a little at the thought; the image of these two perfect men, naked, enjoying each other’s bodies, struck me in a way that I didn’t expect it to. I shifted my weight in my seat, hoping that my sudden shock of arousal wasn’t showing.

  The show was a truly magnificent one, the kind that drew you in and didn’t let go. It was clear the two of them had spent months practicing the old-style vaudeville act, with each smoothly taking over from the other as they wove tales about saucy housemaids who wound up sawn in half by jealous wives, rich husbands who lost their money to secret lovers, and other tales that seemed plucked from an eighteenth-century penny dreadful. The way they bounced off each other, sliding into roles and taking on personas with ease, kept me enraptured; their chemistry together was really something else. And, of course, it didn’t hurt that they looked as damn good as they did. I pressed my knees together as my mind drifted without permission to the thought of being with one of them; the feel of their strong hands on my ass, their teeth on my breast…

  Then came the binding trick. That was the one that stuck with me. The one that made me want to come back for more.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the story of the disappearing submissive.”

  My ears perked up. What did he mean by that?

  Eric continued. “Only a few months ago, in one of the sex dungeons of this very hotel, there were a couple of fantastically gay deviants…”

  There was a small whoop from a table of well-dressed men sitting a few feet away from me. I grinned, amused, and Eric glanced at them, politely waiting for them to finish. Oliver had stepped behind a large board, disappearing for a moment as Eric spoke.

  “…who were rather well engaged with the world of BDSM.”

  It was at that moment that Oliver re-appeared. My mouth practically dropped open when I saw him; dressed in nothing but a pair of tight boxers, his body was on full display for everyone to see. And my God, did I wanted to see it- he was stunning, a perfect example of toned, taut manhood, with strong arms and lightly defined abs that I wanted to run my tongue across. Damn, no wonder the whole room had gone quiet. I couldn’t imagine I was the only one practically salivating at the sight of him. Once again, I thought that Oliver’s eyes flickered over me, sending a spark of electricity down my spine. I sat up straighter in my seat, trying to get a better look.

  “So, one of these days in their dungeon-away-from-dungeon, things were going as normal…the dominant had tied up his submissive, using all manner of leather and cuffs and bondage…” Eric continued, his voice caressing every word, as he gently pushed Oliver back against the board behind him. It was then that I noticed that it was covered in cuffs, cuffs that Oliver obediently arranged around his wrists as Eric strapped him in. God, that was hot- the sight of him all tied up and helpless, at the beck and call of his gorgeous partner. I tore my glance away fro
m him for a second, and focused on Eric- the look on his face said it all. Even as he spoke, filling in the details of all the depraved things that this imaginary couple usually did to each other, the way his gaze lingered on Oliver said more than his words ever could.

  Strapping his wrists and his ankles down, Eric’s hands lingered over Oliver’s glistening flesh, as if savouring it inch by inch. When he strapped a leather belt across his chest, Eric’s fingers caressed the strong muscle beneath, bringing out a momentary, involuntary shiver in Oliver that seemed to amuse his partner. That soft, easy chemistry had built into something more certain as Eric teased Oliver with tiny touches and caresses, and I leaned forward to see the minutiae of their expressions and reactions. I had never realized how hot the thought of two men together would have been to me, but here I was, practically panting at the thought of these two getting it on.

  The trick continued, but I was mesmerised by the two men and their interactions. I missed chunks of the story, and only barely remembered to clap when Eric spun the board around to reveal that Oliver had vanished. It was an impressive trick, no doubt, but their chemistry had been what had kept me interested. I caught the waiter’s eye and ordered another drink. I knew if I got up to get one myself I would have to squeeze my legs together to keep from revealing the extent of my arousal.

  As the show went on, it was clear that the nature of their chemistry had taken a turn. Even when they were both dressed back up in their smart tuxedos, looking every inch the handsome young magicians that they were, there were still touches here and there, little moments and shared looks that seemed to imply something more. I supposed that they could just have been close work partners; after all, they must spend all day together working on new acts and in close physical proximity. But I allowed myself to revel in the notion that they might be a little more than just friends, if only because the thought was enough to make me want to slide my hand between my legs.