|Buy The Midnight Masquerade HERE|
By Monica Corwin
In the 15th century Carnival season, in Venice, masquerade balls were the social events the royals paraded to. Many would travel far and wide to attend. The influence spread to the whole public of Italy in the 16th century and still usually featured the upper class since they could afford the costumes.
The masquerade trend spread further to Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries and still to England in the 18th century. There are quite a few occurrences of people being assassinated at masked parties. There are still masquerades held in Venice in honor of Carnival every year but a person is required to be in full costume of the time period of the ball and on the guest list. Tickets can run from 400 dollars upwards just to attend.
The Midnight Masquerade was inspired by both good and bad. I thought of the idea after re-reading Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Masque of the Red Death’. While a masque is more of a pageant or concert then a ball it still had that air of mystery the masked people lend. In addition I wrote this story just after New Year where I attended a ball in Washington DC. Putting both themes together seemed like a logical conclusion.
I hope The Midnight Masquerade transports you to a mysterious and sensual atmosphere and I hope one day you can experience a masquerade for yourself.
Rumored to be the most debauched party of the year on the East coast, The Midnight Masquerade has only two rules: no one leaves and the masks stay on until midnight.
But what kind of trouble can Hannah and two handsome strangers make before midnight?
Somehow, I’d made it to one of “the boxes” with Ashton Kane, only the mecca of debauchery in the entire country. Ben will never believe this when I tell him. I wished I’d had more to drink then maybe I might be a little smoother, more charming.
He drew me down beside him on the couch and ran a fingertip along the edge of my mask. It only covered my eyes and the top of my nose, but the detail work was exquisite. My whole outfit had been planned around it. Achingly slow, he removed his fingers and put them down in his lap. I stifled a whimper at the loss of that phantom touch.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
I smiled, despite wishing he would return his hands to my face. “I liked that.”
Shifting so his knees aligned with mine, he traced a digit across my bottom lip. I stopped myself from sucking it in. There must have been something in the air because I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted another man. He continued to caress my top lip and my breathing started getting heavy, my panties already wet.
“You like that?” he whispered.
I nodded, not wanting to speak so he wouldn’t stop.
“Where else do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere you want.”