I would never, ever do that. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Jessica Wright, no, ma’am. Jessica Wright was a good ol’ Texan girl with a heart of gold and a strong sense of right and wrong. She would never wander off into the night with some random lion.
And yet, I did exactly that. The goose bumps grew and grew until their tingly kisses covered my entire body. With shakings hands, I clasped the lion’s dagger-tattooed hand. “Lead the way, then,” I said, a nervous tremor in my voice. I was nervous, sure. This wasn’t like me at all. I didn’t know this man. Anything could happen. My inhibitions were screaming at me to stop. But I was excited, too, precisely for the same reasons. This wasn’t like me, and anything could happen.
It was time, I thought, for good ol’ Texan Jessica to live a little.
Jessica
We didn’t talk, but we both knew where this was leading. Sometimes there is a wordless connection between two people, even strangers. It is something in the hormones, the unseen chemicals that pass between man and woman when they’re horny, and they’re going to fuck. I knew that in my bones. This lion was going to fuck me tonight, and I was going to let him, more than let him. I was going to ride him like he’d never been ridden.
The masks spurred us on. We weren’t people. We were a wolf and a lion. Even when we reached the lobby of the hotel, we didn’t take the masks off. I think we both understood the necessity of them. If we removed them, the magic would disappear. I knew something in this night had changed me—if only temporarily—because when a dozen sets of eyes in the lobby turned to stare at me and the lion, I didn’t blush, I didn’t flinch, I didn’t look down. I just followed him.
He led me to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited. He turned to me as the elevator descended. “I have a room,” he explained.
“Good,” I answered.
He nodded, and I nodded back. We hadn’t kissed. We had only danced. We hadn’t discussed going back up to his room to fuck madly. We hadn’t even hinted at it. And yet we both knew exactly what was about to happen. We knew it like we knew our own names; we knew it like we didn’t know each other’s. I was growing calmer, more unlike myself with each passing second. My heartbeat slowed to a steady rhythm. My hands and legs stopped trembling so much. My mouth was dry, but that was only the wine. I didn’t feel as drunk as before. I felt remarkably clear-headed.
The elevator dinged, and we climbed in.
The mask was magic. Girls at home would call me a slut for this—girls all over the world, probably, would call me a slut for this—and usually that would hold me back. Nobody liked to admit it, but what other people thought could hurt sometimes. I didn’t like to let other people’s opinion hold me back, but it has, and it would again. But tonight the mask covered all of that. I wasn’t Jessica. I was Wolf. And Wolf didn’t care what people though. Wolf didn’t have to look people in the eye. Wolf could do whatever she wanted, including riding Lion.
There was another person in the elevator, and old man with a bucket full of ice who stood to one side and watched us curiously. Usually, when someone looked at me, I was instantly self-conscious. I know it is a problem, but it is the truth. Someone looks at me, and the whirring, burning, invasive questions start: What are they thinking? Are they judging me? Am I fidgeting? Can they tell how nervous they are making me? Am I making a fool of myself? It had been like this ever since I could remember. But not on this magical night. Tonight, I didn’t even care about the old man with the ice bucket. It was like some social-anxiety-soothing spell had been cast on me.
We climbed out before the old man. The lion led me down to the end of the hallway, pulled his swipe card from his pocket, and swiped us into the room. The sun was beginning to set, and over the city of Bristol a cool orange light was thrown. Down below (we were about twenty stories up) I could see students who hadn’t yet gone home for the summer walking the streets. I thought about college back home, briefly wondering how I had done in my first-year finals. But then those thoughts were pushed away.
The lion’s hand moved up the back of my thigh slowly as I looked out upon the city. My eye moved from the streets below to the bay of sparkling water and on-boat restaurants and clubs and then to the large sailing ship that moved through the bay. I placed my hands on the glass, splayed like starfishes, and closed my eyes as he moved his hands over me.
His hand moved slowly, and then it was at my pussy. I didn’t realize how wet I’d become until he touched my underwear. I moaned loudly, the sound strange on my lips. I’d never moaned so freely before. There had always been someone in the next room, or I hadn’t wanted to seem over-eager, or I wasn’t really that into it. But now, I moaned loudly, not caring. He moved his fingers under my panties and found my clit.