Blackout
The invitation came in a black envelope, addressed in silver ink. ‘Blackout Party’, said the card, and gave the address of a very good friend. My innards flipped with a thrill. I had been hoping for this to arrive, and finally it was here. Only a work-week away. I had known of my friend’s predilection for erotic gatherings of his trusted close group. I don’t remember how we got onto the conversation while he and I were out for a drink one evening. But it turns out that he was the host of...