Dirty Christmas
Eena koss stared at the black envelope on her desk, the wax seal unbroken, crimson like spilled blood. At 32, she was a force in the courtroom, her sharp suits and sharper tongue dismantling opponents with surgical precision. But beneath the armor, doubts gnawed.
Late nights blurred into empty mornings, lovers fleeting, her body aching for release from the control she wielded daily. The invitation inside was simple.
‘The Masquerade of Secrets. December 24th. Act out your darkest fantasy. Anonymity assured. Black tie, mask required.'