They’d been to a few parties before. Casual, flirty, maybe a kiss here, a shared bed there. But nothing like this.
This party had a name: “Eclipse.” Held in a private loft downtown, invite-only. No phones. No names. Just colors, curtains, and choices.
Each guest wore a ribbon on their wrist. White meant “watching.” Black meant “participating.” Gold meant “open to either.”
Nina wore gold. Cole wore white — for now.
The loft was divided into zones. Lounge. Bar. Dance. And then… The Curtain.
A long velvet drape at the end of the hall, guarded not by a person, but by presence. Behind it, they’d heard, were exhibitionists. People who wanted to be watched. People who didn’t mind an audience. People who thrived on it.
Nina squeezed Cole’s hand. “Let’s go see.”
Inside was low-lit. Warm. Cushioned benches arranged in tiers, like a shadowy amphitheater. And in the center — a bed, draped in gauzy sheets, surrounded by mirrors and gold candlelight.
A couple was already on the bed.
She was laughing — unbothered by the eyes watching. Her partner, a woman with short hair and confident hands, undressed her like she’d done it a hundred times. Every movement deliberate. Sensual. For show — and also not for show.
They weren’t pretending. They were just letting the world in.
Nina leaned forward. Her breathing changed. Subtle, but Cole noticed.
“You like it?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I want you to see what I look like like that.”
“Exposed?”
“No,” she said, turning to him slowly. “Desired.”
Just then, another couple entered the stage — tall, inked, with playful smiles and bold energy. They didn’t wait. Clothes off. Hands roamed. Bodies intertwined. Now it wasn’t just a show — it was a performance.
Gasps in the audience. Some spectators began to touch each other. One woman knelt before her husband, never breaking her gaze from the bed.
Cole was hard. Nina saw it. Smiled. Whispered in his ear, “Would you watch me with someone else? Right there?”
He swallowed. “Only if you look at me the whole time.”
Her breath caught.
“You’d watch me give myself to someone?” she asked.
He nodded. “As long as I know it’s mine when you finish.”
Nina bit her lip.
“We’re not done here,” she said, standing.
And as she walked down the steps toward the curtain that led backstage — the one only black ribbons could pass — she slipped hers off and tossed it behind her.
