Letting my eyes wander the room, making small talk with the others, was an exercise in stimulus overload. You couldn't go more than a minute without hearing the tap-tap-tap of a razor blade and rapid snorting of cocaine. There was copious laughter. Popping Champagne bottles. And, eventually and inevitably, the sound of a zipper as a silk azure gown fell to the floor. It was Jess's. Nude in the middle of the great room, she had dropped to her knees to give Marco head. This was pure power play on his part. He knew no other man could compete with his cock size. He was peacocking, and he relished it....