Midnight Masquerade

An erotic short: Two women. One night only. A glamorous masquerade ball.

The ballroom shimmered like a living jewel, every inch of it decked in golds and silvers, with deep crimson drapes framing floor-to-ceiling windows that looked toward the glittering lights of the Los Angeles skyline. Olivia Muñoz stood at the edge of it all, half-hidden behind a large palm frond, bent over the railing of the grand marble staircase, nursing a flute of champagne that had grown warm in her unmanicured hand. She scanned the crowd, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the moving sea of masks and gowns, their colors and laughter echoing just beyond her reach. Somewhere in this mob of opulent small talk, there was a story. She just needed to find it.

The masquerade was exactly the kind of event she hated—too many egos, too much pretense, and too few real conversations. Yet here she was, sent by Pulse magazine to cover the gala, a charity fundraiser disguised as a networking event for Hollywood’s elite.

“Keep your eyes peeled and your ears open,” her editor had said. “You never…