About Raspberry Truffle, a Torquere Menage
by Anna Bayes
When Melissa's lover, Lawrence, throws a sex party at his mansion, the only clue to each room's theme is the offering of chocolate at the door, each more enticing than the last. The final room isn't for just any guest, but for Melissa alone. What secret surprise does Lawrence have in store for her in the room with the raspberry truffle?
He is clad only in a pair of black velvet pants, leaving his muscular torso exposed. I walk over and sit astride him. "Hi handsome," I whisper, and then kiss him long and deep. His warm lips and tongue respond with fervor as his hands travel to my breasts, kneading them. When I pull away, I see his eyes sparkle.
I raise my eyebrows. "For what?"
He looks past me, over my shoulder.
"For me," a low, resonant voice replies. I can hear a smile in that voice: a smile of playfulness, and challenge.
I stand up, turn around, and meet a pair of piercing eyes. The man's pupils are so dark they seem to shine black. They are also exceptionally luminous, almost glassy. He stands at least five paces away from me, but his gaze burns into me as if he is right before me. He is tall, with a long, trim body. His torso is also bare, wearing the same black velvet pants as Lawrence. He has long, light brown hair tied up in a ponytail. His skin is very pale; I don't think I have ever seen a man with such pale skin. But he is not fragile; no, there is nothing fragile about him. Even as he stands there motionlessly, I feel a confident, quiet strength in him.
He steps forward and offers his hand, "My name is Victor."
"Melissa." I take and shake his hand; it is cold to the touch, and smooth -- too smooth, almost like a glove. There is something unsettling about this man. I cannot pinpoint it, but something seems wrong.
He chuckles -- a guttural, sensual sound. "Yes, you are astute, my little one."
I stop breathing. How does he know what I am thinking?