CHAPTER 4: TITAN'S LAST DANCE

TRISTAN'S POV

Tonight, it felt like a countdown. Tonight, I wasn't Tristan, an aspiring trauma surgeon trying to make ends meet. Tonight, I was Titan, the hottest male companion and dancer in the city, my last dance before I traded the thong and chains for scalpel and surgery tools. Tonight was Titan's swan song. Six months of chains, masks, and carefully curated anonymity had lined my pockets, but it was time to hang up the red robe.

I glanced at the address card again, its embossed lettering mocking my apprehension. A secluded Conti villa. Mafia bachelorette party. Wild doesn't even begin to describe what I expect.

The cab pulled up to impose wrought iron gates. I paid the driver, the villa looming before me, a fortress of privilege and secrets. After being cleared by security, I was led to a guest room, the air thick with the scent of rich mahogany and anticipation.

My costume was laid out: the mask, the chains, the boxer briefs. A red robe with a hood completed the ensemble. I made sure my cologne was just right – a subtle hint of sandalwood and danger. I steeled myself. This wasn't Tristan anymore. This was Titan.

Standing outside the massive acacia door, I could hear the music and the rising tide of female voices. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. One last dance.

The intercom buzzed. "Titan, you may enter."

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The cheers were immediate and deafening. The room was bathed in a red glow, filled with about fifteen women, dressed in everything from slinky dresses to playful lingerie. A single woman wore a white dress and a sash emblazoned with "Bride-to-Be." This was Julianna Conti's bachelorette party, and I was the entertainment.

"Titan!" someone screamed. "Yep, mafia money bought the best."

My routine was ingrained in my muscle memory. The slow, deliberate removal of the red robe, the flash of skin and steel beneath, the carefully choreographed movements designed to ignite desire. I was a master of seduction, and the crowd was my canvas.

As I moved through the room, giving lap dances and indulging in some very willing body shots, snippets of conversation reached my ears. I caught names, whispered jokes, and secrets spilled under the influence of champagne.

"Oh my god, it's really him! You went all out, Jules," a bridesmaid, Ksenia, said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Securing the famous Titan."

"Francesca deserves the credit," Francesca, she was the maid of honor, a sharp-featured brunette, replied. " Only the best for Julianna. I just made the arrangements, it was the best way to make you feel better, knowing you are marrying the Siberian winter."

My ears perked up. Giovanni Sokolov. Powerful, ruthless, and the man Julianna Conti was about to marry.

Ksenia prodded, "How are you feeling about marrying Giovanni Sokolov, Jules? Thrilled? Excited? Are you sure your head is okay?"

Anaia, another bridesmaid, added, "He's a huge catch. Powerful, ridiculously godly handsome and sexy. You hit the jackpot."

Julianna's voice, a low and surprisingly husky murmur, cut through the chatter. "I'm not thrilled. Honestly, I feel nothing for Giovanni."

Francesca's tone turned serious. "Are you still in love with Edmond?"

Julianna hesitated. "I'll always love Edmond. Always. My marriage to Giovanni is just…a business deal."

My blood ran cold. Across the room, nursing a glass of champagne, was Savannah. I was shocked why she was here. The one who had orchestrated my downfall, who had driven me to desperation and ultimately, to become Titan. I cursed silently, praying she wouldn't recognize me beneath the mask and the carefully constructed persona.

The conversation continued, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside me.

"How many times have you slept with Giovanni?" Ksenia asked, her voice laced with curiosity. "And how is it?"

Julianna laughed, a hollow sound. "We… ‘fuck’ during the weekdays, from midnight until dawn. He's a monster in bed, both in size and performance, I'll give him that. It’s the one good thing about this whole mess. I actually enjoy it."

Francesca's brow furrowed. "Are you still seeing Edmond? How does he feel about you sleeping with another man?"

Julianna's answer was a bombshell. "I go to Edmond every weekend. Giovanni doesn't know. I tell him I'm visiting my parents."

Ksenia whistled, shaking her head. ""Damn, girl. You're a wild one, Jules."

"I make it up to Edmond," Julianna continued, her voice barely a whisper. "I let him… have me however he wants, letting him fuck me non-stop all weekend long."

"You're lucky, Julianna," Anaia said, a hint of envy in her voice. "Being pleasured by two men. But I'm concerned, what if Giovanni finds out you are cheating on him?"

"He will never find out," Julianna replied, a defiant glint in her eyes. " And I will still see Edmond even after our marriage... if I really proceed on."

The party escalated. Drinks flowed freely, inhibitions dissolved, and the music pulsed with a primal energy.

Ksenia, emboldened by alcohol, grabbed my crotch during a lap dance, her touch surprisingly forceful.

I froze for a split second, then forced myself to continue the routine. This was Titan. I was a performer.

Ksenia, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pulled down my boxer shorts, revealing my fully aroused 'Titan'. A collective gasp swept through the room, followed by excited whoops and cheers. Apparently, Titan was well-endowed, and the ladies were impressed. Seven-plus inches tended to get that reaction.

I kept dancing, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks.

"We should bet on who can give Titan the best experience," Anaia announced, her words slurred but clear.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation. Suddenly, I wasn't just a dancer; I was a prize. Eager hands reached for me, a frantic competition for my attention. My throbbing erection was passed from mouth to mouth, a testament to my performance and the intoxication of the moment.

Ksenia, Anaia, and Francesca took turns, competing for the title of “best experience giver”, each determined to outdo the other. Their hands were skilled, their mouths experienced.

After Francesca's turn, she turned to Julianna, who was watching the scene with a mixture of amusement and hesitation.

"Your turn, Jules. Don't be shy. It's your last night as a single woman."

Anaia nudged her playfully. "Enjoy it while you can. You're marrying into a mafia, for God's sake!"

Julianna hesitated, then knelt before me. Her touch was hesitant at first, then confident, practiced.

And oh, my God, she was good. It wasn't a surprise, given her admitted double life. But this was a new level of surreal. The bride-to-be, the daughter of one mafia boss and soon-to-be wife of another, gives a professional-grade blowjob to the hired stripper. It was then I realized that cheating on their partners isn't limited to one gender.

The cheers of the crowd roared as the room filled with the sounds of choking and slurping. After a long 20 minutes, I felt the pressure building, my body on the edge of release. I thrust harder into her mouth, my moans growing louder, warning her of the impending climax. Julianna pulled away, her eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and fear, and continued with her hand.

I let out a loud moan followed by the pleasure of release of my hot, white and very sticky milk on her face, shoulder and even her hair.

The cheer erupted, a wave of applause and whistles. Cumming was my cue to leave. I dressed quickly, the red robe feeling suddenly heavy, and was whisked away in a car sent by Francesca.

Back in the city, shedding the costume and the persona, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. Titan was dead. It was Tristan’s turn to live, to chase his dreams, to bury the past. It was time to rebuild, to pursue my own dreams, to leave this life behind. My phone chimed with a notification. Ms. Bianchi, my manager, had sent my payment for the night. I opened the message and nearly choked. Five million dollars.

The message continued: "The ladies were very satisfied with your service, especially since it was your last dance. They considered it an honor to be your final customers."

Five million dollars. My swan song had turned into a gold mine. Maybe, just maybe, I could finally escape the shadows of my past. Maybe… maybe I could use this money to do some good. Maybe I could finally start fresh.

But first, I needed a shower. A long, hot, cleansing shower.