Masks
by Ann Douglas
(ann_douglas@hotmail.com)
Part One
"This," thought Taylor Stuart as she dropped exhausted into the empty salon chair and ran a hand through her long waist length hair. "Has got to have been the worst day of my life."
Sitting back with her eyes closed, the twenty four-year-old brunette reviewed the events that caused her to make such a declaration. Her first disaster of the day had actually started the night before with the sudden arrival of her sometimes lover, George Williams, at her apartment.
The relationship between the two was based largely on sex and little else. George had a cock that looked like it should be in a porn film and was, at least in Taylor's opinion, one hell of a fuck. At first she had been a little annoyed at his showing up so unexpectedly at her door.
Then George had started to turn on the charm. Coupled with the lucky absence of her roommate Donna, who had a family emergency and had to spend the night at her parents, one thing had led to another. Before long they were rocking the sheets like a couple of rabbits.
After a night of boisterous lovemaking, they started an encore presentation early this morning. Taylor had her face buried in a pillow as George plowed his cock into her. He was just about to come when he called out her name. Unfortunately, he only thought it was her name.
"God, Donna," he'd yelled, "you are so fucking tight!"
Needless to say, Taylor lost all sexual interest when she heard her roommate's name. In the hour they had argued after that, she'd learned that George had actually come over to get it on with Donna, and had settled for Taylor when he found she wasn't there. Worse yet, the fight had made her late for her job at the Salon.
Her second conflict of the day was with Anna Mugavero, the fifty-two year old owner of the Beauty Salon. This was the third time Taylor had been late this month and Anna spent fifteen long minutes pointing out that if it happened a fourth time, she might as well stay in bed for good.
Taylor suffered in silence as Anna dressed her down in front of everyone else in the shop. She knew that it wasn't just her being late that had set the older woman off. Karen and Sonny, two of the other girls had worse records than she did and didn't have to put up with half this crap. No, Anna had it in for her for a far different reason.
The previous December, the Merchants Association had sponsored a grand Christmas and New Years Party at Roselli's Catering Hall. Every business in the area had contributed to the party and it had been full of good food, good music, and really great booze. Sometime about eleven, when the party was really rocking, Taylor had gone looking for the ladies room.
After two wrong turns, Taylor thought she'd found the right door. Unfortunately, it had been Roselli's private office instead. Even more unfortunate was the fact that it wasn't empty. There, kneeling on the carpeted floor, was a very drunk and semi-naked Anna Mugavero. She was in the process of blowing the 69 year old Tony Roselli.
Giddy as she was, Taylor had taken one look at Roselli's cock sliding in and out of Anna's mouth and burst out laughing. In her intoxicated state she couldn't stop giggling, no matter how hard she tried.
The next morning, despite a first class hangover, she had gone over to Anna's apartment to apologize. Considering the things she had done drunk, Anna blowing the old man was kid stuff. Besdies, it was only the surprise of having walked in on them that had set her off. For an older man, Mr. Roselli was in pretty good shape. And as for Anna, well she did run a beauty salon and knew how to always bring out her best. She'd seem couples doing it before, and it wasn't if she'd run off and told Mrs. Roselli that Anna was sucking off her husband.
But Anna wanted no part of any apology, no matter how contrite it might have been. Since that night, neither of them had ever mentioned the incident again. Yet Anna never let an opportunity pass to embarrass her as she felt she had been embarrassed.
Problems three and four came in the persons of Mrs. Elizabeth Katts and Miss Evelyn Donacello, two of the Salon's oldest and most demanding clients. Anna Mugavero took a perverse delight in always assigning them to Taylor. Even individually, either woman was enough to try even a Saint's patience. Today, both of them had more than earned their reputations.
It was only after lunch that Taylor thought her day might be changing for the better. She smiled when she saw the name Kathleen Foster in the appointment book. Kathleen was her favorite client, the antitheses of the two women she had to deal with in the morning. Many times Anna had tried to assign Kathleen to one of the other girls, but the twenty-six year old businesswoman would hear nothing of it. It was that way with a lot of Taylor's clients and the reason Anna kept Taylor on despite their mutual antagonism.
Taylor loved working on Kathleen for two reasons. Kathleen was exactly the type of woman Taylor wished she could be more like. Confident, dynamic, successful, all the things she didn't see in herself. Despite all of that and the difference in their backgrounds, Kathleen never looked down at Taylor as some of the other clients did.
If you put the two women side by side, they shared a certain physical similarity as well. Both were brunettes of similar shades and stood five seven. Even their measurements came close, with Taylor having a slightly larger bust.
Taylor and Kathleen chatted while she worked on her hair. Kathleen told Taylor that she was going to a big Halloween Ball tomorrow night and wanted to look her best. Taylor remarked that she was going to a costume party herself, but she was sure the people at the two parties would be quite different.
Kathleen replied with a knowing smile. The sort of grin that said Taylor couldn't image how true her remark really was.
"I'd invite you to my party but I'm not sure you would..." Kathleen started to say, then suddenly gasped for air.
It was that moment that all hell broke loose. Kathleen suddenly turned pale and started to shake uncontrollably. It was immediately obvious to Taylor that her client was having a seizure. A woman in the next chair screamed in shock, an action repeated by several others, including Anna Mugavero. Panic, as always, was contagious.
Or so it seemed. Taylor, however, kept her cool. Back in high school, the beautician had entertained the idea of becoming a nurse for half a semester. She went so far as doing some volunteer work at the local hospital. Work that involved taking some basic emergency aid courses. In a flash, all of those old lessons came back to her.
"Call for an ambulance!" Taylor called out as she reacted to the crisis and made sure that Kathleen didn't choke. "Don't just stand there you stupid bitch!" she yelled at Anna when she saw her just standing there, paralyzed with fear. "Call the paramedics!"
Finally spurred by Taylor's words, Anna reached for the phone. Thankfully, Saint Mary's Hospital was only ten blocks away and help arrived in minutes. As they carried Kathleen away, Taylor could feel Anna's eyes burning into her back. She was sure she could kiss this job goodbye after her outburst.
"I'm going to overlook your impertinence this time," Anna said, ignoring the fact that it was only Taylor's quick action that had helped Kathleen. "Seeing as it was an emergency and so many people were panicking. But I still expect you to stay tonight and clean up, make up that lost time from this morning."
Taylor replied with a nod, afraid if she opened her mouth she would say something that Anna wouldn't like. When she thought about , Taylor realized that Anna wouldn't let her foil go so easily. Silently however, she resolved to find the courage to make some changes in her life. Beginning with finding a better place to work.
Later in the day, before she started to clean up, Taylor called the hospital to check on Kathleen's condition. Normally they wouldn't give out such information to a stranger on the phone. But when she explained to the Nurse that she had been the one to give first aid to the stricken woman, the Nurse felt a little more sympathetic. She told her that Kathleen was doing fine, but that they were going to keep her over the weekend for observation. That pleased Taylor. Anna hadn't even bothered to call before she went home.
Opening her eyes, Taylor happened to spot a silver and gold envelope sticking out from under one of the cabinets. Curious, she bent down and picked it up. To her surprise, the name of Kathleen Foster was on the envelope.
"This must've fell out of her purse when it was knocked off the counter." Taylor thought as she wondered what was in it. "Only one way to find out." she added.
It turned out to be the invitation to the Halloween Ball Kathleen had been talking about. The Ball was being given by something called the Sean McMurphy Memorial Fund. Taylor had never heard of before. She had, however, heard of the Grand Astoria Hotel, which the invitation showed as the site of the Ball. Only last week, Taylor had read an article about the multi-million dollar restoration of the old hotel and how it was going to have a big Grand Re-Opening next month. Evidently, it seemed that this Sean McMurphy Fund was able to book the entire Hotel for their Ball before that.
"The ticket for the Ball even comes with a room," Taylor noted as she read the rest of the papers in the envelope.
It seemed Kathleen had been nominated for membership in some sort of professional society and as part of that nomination, the society was picking up the tab for the entire weekend at the Grand Astoria.
"Just think of all those people at the Grand Astoria," Taylor said to the empty salon. "Enjoying shrimp and champagne while I eat cheese doodles and Pepsi at Monica's party. I bet there's a lot better class of men at that party too. At least ones who wouldn't be trying to grope her ass after a few beers."
Putting all the papers back in the envelope, Taylor thought it was a shame that Kathleen was going to miss the Ball. She imagined again all the professional men that must attend functions like that and tried to remember Kathleen ever mentioning a boyfriend or anything. Or was she, Taylor wondered, one of those women so wrapped up in their careers that they had no time for romance.
"Look at me criticizing someone else's love life." Taylor went on, "Like I've had such great luck with men."
Looking up at the clock on the wall, Taylor decided she'd put in as much extra time as she needed to make up for being late this morning. She'd half expected that bitch Anna to call from home to make sure she was still here. Tossing the gold envelope into one of the wastebaskets, the twenty-four year out headed for the door and home.
"Too bad I couldn't change places with Kathleen for the night," she mused as she pushed the invitation from her mind. "It'll probably be a hell of a party."
Taylor had locked the door behind her and was halfway down the street when she paused. A fantastic thought filled her mind.
"Why couldn't I?" she thought. "Why couldn't I go in Kathleen's place? After all, it's a Halloween Ball. Everyone's going to be in a costume. And it's not like she paid for the tickets, so I wouldn't be stealing or anything like that."
As quick as Taylor tried to think of new justifications for acting on this crazy impulse, another voice inside of her responded with reasons what she shouldn't. It finally came down to the memory of Anna's shrill voice and how she treated her like trash. If she was going to make some changes in her life, maybe a little adventure was as good a place to start as any.
With a smile on her face and a new determination in her heart, Taylor spun on her heels and went back to the Salon. Two minutes later she was again walking down the same street, this time with the coveted invitation in her hand.
"Good afternoon, may I help you?" the pretty young Asian woman behind the counter, whose nametag identified as Mei-Ling, looked up and asked.
Taylor took a deep breath before answering. What seemed like a good idea only last night, now seemed like insanity in the light of day. It had taken her over a half-hour of debate within herself to even step into the hotel, much less approach the check in counter. Right now, part of her wanted to just turn and run.
She had spent a good part of the morning trying to decide how a young businesswoman would dress when going to a hotel. Finally she decided a simple blue print would be okay.
"I'm ... Kathleen Foster..." she said in a low hesitant voice, as if afraid that bells and alarms were about to go off. "I have a reservation."
The pretty girl, who Taylor thought couldn't have been more than eighteen, smiled once more and typed Kathleen Foster into her computer. It was only a moment before the confirmation came up on the screen, but to Taylor it seemed like an eternity.
"Here we go," Mei-Ling said. "Room 314 in the west wing. A very nice room. If you'll just fill out this registration card, I'll have one of our bellhops help you with your bag."
As Taylor filled out the small card, careful to fill in the information for Kathleen Foster, she didn't notice one of the two bellhops who had been stand a dozen feet away, respond to Mei-Lings summons. If she had, she might have found it surprising that they were both young women as well.
"I can handle my bag," Taylor said automatically, "It's just the one."
""Very good," the Asian woman said as Taylor handed back the card. "Now I just need your credit card to make an imprint and you'll be on your way."
"My credit card..?" Taylor asked in terror, a sudden chill flashing through her.
"Is there a problem?" Mei-Ling asked.
"I thought, what I mean is..." Taylor started to say as she tried to think of a reason why she wouldn't have a card.
She was about to make a show of looking for her wallet in her purse and then saying she must have forgot it at home. If nothing else, she would then leave and never come back.
"That won't be necessary, Mei-Ling." said another voice from behind Taylor.
The brunette turned to see a tall, dark skilled woman with very short curly black hair standing next to her. She was wearing a navy blue jacket, white shirt and matching skirt. Taylor guessed that she was in her early thirties.
"Ms. Foster is one of our new nominees," the black woman said. "The Foundation is taking care of all of her expenses."
"Of course," Mei-Ling replied as she typed in the proper code on the registration. "Welcome to the Grand Astoria, Ms. Foster." she beamed as she handed Taylor an electronic key to her room. Enjoy your stay."
"Thank you." Taylor said in a relief filled voice.
"Are you okay?" the woman in blue asked. "You seem a little flushed."
"Just the excitement, thats all." Taylor quickly covered.
"Of course." came the reply. "I'm Sanura Jackson, head of the Foundation's Membership Committee."
"Nice to meet you." Taylor said as she reached out to meet Sanura's outstretched hand.
The smile on her face was genuine. If the head of the membership committee didn't spot her as a fake, then she was home free.
"Do you also work here at the hotel?" Taylor asked, trying to make conversation.
"Me? Oh no. In real life I'm a specialist in corporate security. I did almost ten years with the government, then opened my own business."
"I'm sorry, I though when I saw you and the girl at the counter wearing the same pin that..."
"This pin?" Sanura asked, a touch of confusion in her voice as she indicated the gold pin on her lapel. "You must've seem one of the Foundation's pins before?"
"Of course, where is my head this afternoon?" Taylor asked herself. "It just looked a little different in this light, that's all."
Sanura seemed to accept that answer, or so Taylor hoped.
"Actually none of the people here are hotel staff." Sanura went on. "We prefer to use our own Foundation volunteers when we have functions like this. It tends to keep things more private."
"I understand." Taylor answered, as if she had the slightest idea what Sanura was talking about.
"Actually it was McMurphy Industries that bought and renovated the hotel. And since Scarlett still heads the Board of Directors, there was no problem with us borrowing it for the Ball."
Taylor continued to agree, wondering if she was supposed to know who Scarlett was.
"It's too bad she's stuck in the Caribbean by that storm. She usually never misses one of the Foundation's bashes. I hope I'm that active when I get to be her age."
Letting out a secret sigh of relief when they got to the elevators, Taylor hoped Sanura didn't insist on seeing her up to her room as well. Thankfully the taller woman stopped short of that.
"Well thanks for your help." Taylor said.
"Not really much in the way of help, but you're welcome." Sanura replied. "Maybe later, after you've settled in, we can have a drink or something. I'd like to get to know you a little better."
"I'd like that." Taylor answered to be polite, hoping that she didn't run into Sanura again before the Ball.
As the elevator doors closed between them, Taylor noted that Sanura seemed to be very pleased with her reply.
"I never thought someone into security would be that friendly with people." she mused as the indicator light turned into a three. "Guess it takes all kinds."
Once in her room, Taylor decided to take a little nap. The Costume Ball didn't start until eight. That gave her more than a few hours to kill. Stripping down to her underwear, she noted that the room she had been given was a lot better than her apartment. She didn't want to even think about what it would normally cost per night.
She undid her bra, dropping it onto the floor. Strong fingers massaged her rounded breasts, bringing back the sensation she sometimes lost when her bra was too tight. Mentally she made a note to buy some new ones, but knew that there was always more demand on her paycheck than she could afford.
"Enough of that." she laughed as she dropped on the still made bed. "I'll worry about everything else on Monday. This weekend is for having fun."
Stretched out semi-nude on the bed, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. In her dreams she could imagine that this life was hers for real.
"Oh God, it can't be morning already." Taylor groaned as she rolled over on the soft bed toward the ringing sound that had disturbed her slumber.
It took a few seconds for her to grasp that it was the phone and not her alarm clock that was ringing. The realization that this wasn't her apartment a brief moment later snapped her fully awake.
"Hello..?" she said into the receiver as she lifted the phone.
"Good Evening, Ms. Foster." said a lyrical voice over the phone. "You asked for a reminder call at six forty five."
"Oh yes, I did, didn't I? she remembered. "Thank you very much."
With renewed energy, she bounced off the bed. The nap had been a great idea. Now she felt like she could go all night.
"Well as I'm sure Cinderella once said," she laughed. "It's off to the Ball I go."
Taylor closed her eyes as she stepped into the shower and warm water splashed against her skin. It felt great after her nap. She was as excited as could be about her little adventure. There was such a forbidden nature about it all.
Running her hands down her soapy body, down between her legs, Taylor discovered she was aroused. Normally she didn't get that way again until a few days after she and George had one of their marathon screwing sessions. Yet as she played her fingers over her body, she suddenly felt as horny as if she'd been celibate for a month.
"Must be the new me." she laughed to herself. "Hope I find a cute guy tonight to take care of my itch. But just in case..."
Taylor again stroked her breasts, bringing her pert nipples to a familiar hardness. As always, her touch felt so good. Soapy hands glided down across her slim stomach, finding their way to the light brown bush below. She continued down between her legs and then around to the cheeks of her ass, leaving a soap trail of bubbles in her wake.
Taylor let out a soft sigh as her fingers rubbed against her mound. Running her other hand across her firm breasts once again, she gave them a playful squeeze.
With a practiced hand that began to learn it's skill when she'd first masturbated at 13, Taylor parted her vaginal lips, quickly finding the prize within. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the wall and began to rub herself.
"Oh yes." she purred as a familiar tingle spread out from her cunt. "That feels nice."
She slid a finger up within herself, followed by a second and a third. It was a poor substitute for a hard cock, but it would have to do.
It wasn't long before she was furiously pumping her fingers in and out, stoking the tiny flame between her legs into a roaring fire.
The warm water had turned to hot, filling the bathroom with steam. The heat of which paled to that radiating across her quaking body as her fingers caressed her love canal in an orgasmic frenzy.
With water running down her face, her lips let go a quiet sigh. Taylor felt her legs and arms go weak as repeated waves of delight rippled up and down her naked form.
Long silent moments, broken only by the splatter of the shower drops, passed as the brunette rested against the now warm tile. The water washing away the traces of her climax.
"Oh that felt good." Taylor said as she filled her hands with water and splashed it across her face.
Wrapped only in a towel, she stepped back into the room. Taylor opened her bag and laid out the costume she had brought with her. It was the outfit she had originally planned to wear to Monica's party. Not for the first time, she wondered if perhaps it was a little too daring for an upscale party like this one.
"What the hell," she concluded. "It's too late to get a new one now."
Undoing her towel and tossing it on the bed, Taylor changed into her third identity of the day.
The costume, what little there was of it, was a bright flaming red. Appropriate enough considering who she was supposed to be. The hem of her skirt ended less than six inches below her crotch, showing an amount of skin only exceeded by the amount of cleavage a very plunging neckline exposed. The thin material clung tightly against her braless breasts, holding them in place and at the same time, displaying all their charms. You didn't have to get too close to see the outline of her nipples pressed against the fabric. Hanging from beneath her skirt was a short, forked tail. On her forehead, held in place by spirit gum, were two small horns.
"You little devil you." Taylor laughed as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.
As a final touch, she pressed a small raccoon type red mask against her face. That and a small pitchfork completed the ensemble.
Turning around to check her rear reflection, Taylor saw that any onlooker would have little trouble telling that she had left her panties behind with her bra.
"Might as well live the part," she laughed. "What's the worst they can do to me, ask me to leave?"
She walked out into the hall and called for people already there to hold the elevator. The doors of which were already closing.
"Thanks," Taylor said to the woman in the 1920's flapper outfit who had held the door for her.
"No problem." came her reply.
"Nice costume." Taylor said.
"Yours too." the flapper said, taking the time to really take in what Taylor was wearing, or what she wasn't wearing.
Turning to the other woman behind them, Taylor no longer worried about any improprieties of dress. It was impossible not to stare at the well-endowed redhead. She was going to the party as Eve, a costume Taylor remembered Debbie Thomas wearing last year. Unlike Debbie, this woman wasn't wearing a bodystocking. In fact, aside from a smile, all she was wearing was a g-string shaped like a fig leaf.
"This party is going to be more interesting than I thought." Taylor concluded.