{~Spectre~}
The music in the room was swinging, piano and trumpets keeping in steady rhythm. Colors of all shades blurred as people swayed across the floor in dance with a backdrop of the night sky and ocean peeking through the large windowed wall at the back of the room. Pockets of laughter burst through the slow tune as some people preferred to chat the night away with drinks to provide them courage in hands.
He saw her the moment she stepped into the ballroom. Long blonde hair, lightly sun bleached from long days outside, pinned up elegantly in a braided chignon. Skin kissed by warmth and a gentle peachy tan, smooth to look at and supple to the touch. Bright blue eyes that could contest the roughest ocean waves. A smile that lit up the room with more ferocity than fireworks on New Years Eve.
In short… she was magnificent.
She moved about the room wearing a dress the color of sapphires and of habutae fabric. It swooped down her back exposing the tender pressure points known as the dimples of Venus right above her defined, heart shaped buttocks. The dress hugged her athletic, hourglass form everywhere else and accentuated the womanly features of her hips, waist and breasts. Her identity was disguised by an intricate Gatto Arco Strass masquerade mask of cobalt blue with gold and black designs shaped into the form of a cat.
It made her all the more intriguing to him. She was a puzzle he wanted to piece together, understand, and see the fully beauty of the final picture.
She moved around the ballroom with all the grace and finesse of a large predatory cat, light footed and careful steps. A careful stride here, a twirl there, she dodged the other partygoers, dancers, waitstaff, and tables as though she were the only one in the ballroom. Her big blue eyes languidly scanned the entirety of the room, taking in each of the participants there that night along with the festivities.
Was she looking for someone? A date perhaps? How lucky that man must be to have such a fine specimen waiting for him. How even luckier he must be to be the one to take her home that night.
His dark eyes followed her enticing, ethereal form closely from behind his simple black, gold, and white Occhi mask. He leaned back on the bar counter, right elbow propped on the edge as he sipped on his whiskey and coke. To his right stood his brother, prattling on about this or that; the ball, the people, their line of work. He found himself more motivated to watch the mysterious woman prowl the ballroom floor, his brother's voice drifting away as the only thing in his mind became the woman.
She did not stop, neither to talk nor to observe the others in the room. Instead, she kept moving on light, sure feet, which were clad in a pair of gold stilettos that peeked out from beneath her floor length dress every now and again. As she sidestepped to her right, he noticed the dress was slit down the right side from high on her thigh to the floor. Her leg became exposed, smooth skin and taut muscle. A perfect, womanly limb that sent heat rising within his chest. He took another sip of his drink to quell the fire burning deep within him.
She was on the hunt. Her eyes and mind focused on one thing and one thing only. Her eyes shifted dreamily over the faces of the participants, trying to recognize someone beneath the masks that hid identities.
Her next moved surprised him enough to stand straight, removing himself from leaning on the bar and narrow his eyes at her. She gracefully moved behind an unsuspecting waiter with a tray of champagne flutes and, with long slender fingers, plucked a flute without anyone noticing. She downed the glass of golden, bubbly liquid, and then just as skillfully as she had plucked it, she placed it on another tray that a waitress carried further into the room.
She did the same when a tray of mini beef wellingtons passed her by. She seductively licked the gravy from her digits with lips stained a warm pink. She moved on, working the room in her certain, unnoticed fashion.
It was the oddest thing… Not one person seemed to notice her apart from himself. He was certain of this. He had checked the attention of the rest of the partygoers to be sure. She moved among them, the skirt of her dress swaying and swishing as she glided across the floor. No one caught her in conversation. No one turned to look at her. Not even a single eye twitched in her direction as she passed by.
"Are you listening to me at all?" His brother questioned suddenly, causing the man in the Occhi mask to turn away from the mysterious woman. He met the troubled stare of his younger brother and nodded his head once in assurance.
"Why yes, dear brother, I am in fact." He replied quickly, struggling to recall the mumblings of his brother's current ranting. "You were just mentioning to me how you could not believe a volunteer could turn their back on the V.F.D., forsaking everything for a whim."
The man in the Occhi mas looked back out into the ballroom, eyes moving over the participants hurriedly to find the woman once more. Where had the woman in the sapphire dress gone to?
He searched, eyes scanning swiftly over the guests again, and then he found her. His gaze solidified on her form towards the back of the room where she stood talking to a man in an intricate mask of green and copper. He was tall, stocky, and simply continued to shake his head at her words. No matter what she said, he returned her words with a look of worry and condemnation.
She spoke heatedly in quiet whispers, hands making motions in the air between them without much effort. Her lips pursed for only a moment before she said some final phrase that left the pair in silence. The man's eyes darted to look upon the partygoers, a worry etched deep within them as though he feared someone may overhear her.
What had she said? Why was he worried that someone in this room, a member of the V.F.D., would overhear?
The woman's shoulders seemed to slump as she sighed, outstretching a hand to the man before her. She placed it on his forearm, holding firmly as though reassuring him. He looked back down at her, posture seeming to relax at her touch. Her gaze appeared sullen, disappointed by some outcome of their conversation. She said something more, rosy lips moving swiftly as though in earnest as her head of secured blonde locks shook slowly. The man, his dark green eyes holding her image before him, shook his head of strawberry blonde hair with finality. His lips parted and the woman before him seemed taken aback at first and then slowly, regretfully, she pulled her hand away from him. She clasped her hands before her, fingers laced, and stood up straighter. She met his stare, met sorrow with fear in a gaze that spoke of an end to something between them.
"What do you think?" The man in the Occhi mask, standing at the bar with his brother at his side, narrowed his eyes. He ignored his brother's questioning openly. Something about the sight before him unnerved him. The man in the green and copper mask began to shake his head again and then backed away from the woman in sapphire. He turned his stocky form to her, back facing her, and walked away with swift, unsure steps. She stood alone by the windows, unable to move, teeth biting down on her lower lip.
It didn't take a genius to see she was hurting.
"Well?" His brother prodded again and nudged him to get his attention.
"Let me tell you something, little brother." The man in the Occhi mask spoke as he watched the woman closely. She stood there alone with her head slightly hung and breathing deeply. She licked her lips, eyes looking out at the people enjoying themselves in the ballroom as though condemning them all; cursing them all for being so happy while she stood miserably alone. The man in the Occhi mask lifted his drink to his lips, eyes firmly attached to the woman in the sapphire dress.
"A woman who holds a man's heart can make him do many irrational, foolish things. Including, leaving the organization." He spoke and looked to his brother briefly, eyes flicking back to the woman. "Love is blind, and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit."
"Who said that?" His brother questioned, arching an eyebrow at him and seeming to attempt to read his body language.
"William Shakespeare; The Merchant of Venice, Act II, scene 6." He replied simply and took a sip of his dwindling drink.
"Sounds like the man is a marionette on a string being told to dance by a puppet master." His younger brother replied, finishing his glass of gin and motioning to the barkeep for another.
"Love is exactly like that, little brother. Though it isn't nearly as bad nor as frightening as it may seem." The man in the Occhi masked replied, eyes trailing after the woman who moved through the ballroom like a ghost. She was swift, steady, but head cast downwards as though wishing even more to disappear. He felt his heart ache for her as his eyes followed her. "Loving someone is easy; like breathing. Allowing yourself to be loved... now that is the hard part."
"How would you know...?" His brother scoffed in retort, shook his head and returned to brooding over his new drink. He turned fully to face the bar counter and ignored his older brother, who obviously was speaking nonsense. The man with the black, gold and white mask, holding a whiskey coke, ignored his younger brother easily. The woman, who now weaved around the guests with an expression of disappointment and wretchedness, was an easy and more than welcomed distraction.
She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. She was graceful. She was crafty. She was talented in the ways of sneaking, of blending in, and all things necessary for a Volunteer to be. She was observant. She was inquisitive.
She was heading straight for the bar!
He quickly turned around, ensuring his back was to her as she neared in her approach. He watched her through the mirror that backed the bar wall, bottles of different liquors masking his gaze from her. He sipped his drink, the whiskey burning on its way down his throat. She came up beside him, merely a foot from his form. If he reached his right hand out just a few inches, he could grasp her hand. He watched her slender, nimble fingers for a few moments as she tapped her black painted nails against the bar counter. At first, it was only that; tapping. Light, sharp, meaningless tapping. But then he heard it. A melody of a song he recognized, but could not place the name to.
"Pardon me, barkeep?" She called finally after not receiving service. It amazed him that no one else noticed her the way he had. How could they not notice the woman in the Gatto mask? The only woman who moved through the crowds alone. How could they not see her beauty highlighted by the astonishing sapphire dress? How could they not feel the presence she caused in the air? The smell of her sweet jasmine perfume?
He did not ponder too long. The sound of her soft voice, lilting in melody that only an angel could muster, sent shivers up his spine. The music in the room faded away and only her soft singing was left. He found himself wishing for her to sing only for him; to whisper sweet nothings into his ear.
"Excuse me, sir? I would like to order, please." She tried again, but still she was not noticed by any of the barkeepers. Her jaw set as she struggled to keep her temper. The man in the Occhi mask beside her lifted a foot and placed it firmly on the bar at the base of counter. He motioned with two fingers in a 'come here' gesture to his friend that was acting as a barkeep tonight.
"Larry." He spoke firmly and confidently as he squared his shoulders. He stood straighter, tuxedo jacket stretching across his broad shoulders and back. He nodded his head once to his right where the woman stood. "This fine lady has been requesting service. I believe she would like to order a drink. See to her, would you?"
"Oh, my apologies miss!" Larry, the barkeep in obvious disguise, rushed over to her and pulled forth from his waist apron a pen and pad of paper. The smile on his lips was both forced and genuine, which obviously set her in unease. "I didn't see you there."
This puzzled the larger man with the whiskey coke in his hand and caused an eyebrow to arch. Was she really such a specter to them all while to him she was a complete vision breathed into living form? Why was he the only one seeming to be under her spell?
"Thank you." She looked to the man on her left, wearing the Occhi mask of black, gold and white. She offered him a small genuine smile of appreciation though her eyes told him she had not wanted to speak more than she needed to, to anyone.
"You're very welcome, miss." He responded with a warm smile of his own, lifting his drink to his lips and looking back at his reflection in the mirror. His dark eyes were made darker by the mask he wore. But her eyes, God help him, her eyes were radiant behind her cat mask of cobalt, gold, and black. They sparkled in the dim light at the bar, mischief and solemn displeasure filling them. They looked sad, like a hurricane stuck out at sea.
"What can I get you, miss?" Larry asked, ready to take her order now. He looked like a jittery mouse, ready to scurry at the drop of a hat, with deep set eyes that held a deeper shade beneath them.
"I gotta a right to sing the blues... I gotta right to feel low-down." The lyrics of the song were low, raspy with the voice that sounded hauntingly of Louie Armstrong. "I gotta right to moan and sigh... I gotta a right to sit and cry."
"Whiskey coke. Lots of ice. Lime no lemon. Make it tall, please." She ordered fluidly, nails tapping against the wood of the bar counter again, but this time to the beat of the music playing in the ballroom. The trumpet produced notes that spoke of forlorn, each one pronounced and desperate. His gaze turned from the mirror behind the bar and dropped over her form, watching as her hips swayed gently to the music with skirt flowing back and forth like the tides of the sea.
"Of course. Coming right up." Larry stepped away to make her drink and then stopped before the man who had called him over.
"Down the river, I know the deep blue sea... Mama will be callin' me."
"Would you care for another as well, sir?" Larry motioned toward the man's glass, now empty and ice melting away from the heat of his hand. He had not realized he had finished his drink so quickly. He looked down at the glass in his hand and shook it, hearing only ice.
"Ah, yes. It would seem to be that time. Another for me as well." He ordered and nodded his head in the direction of the woman, turning to look at her head on. She met his stare with the slight turn of her head, deep blue eyes moving to their left corners to peer at him with quiet query.
"It must be love, say what you choose. I gotta right to sing the blues." The music died away, the trumpet's fraught notes falling away into quiet. Slowly, another song took its place; slow, cozy like a fireplace lit in the middle of a winter snow storm. The voice now belonged to a woman and, though soft and steady, was warm with excitement as though she sang to a lover. "It's not the pale moon that excites me... that thrills and delights me, oh no... it's just the nearness of you."
"May I buy your drink?" He questioned politely with his smile curving into a one-sided smirk. Larry stepped away to mix their drinks, shoving the pad of paper and pen back into his black waist apron. He listened closely, watching his friend and the strange woman in the reflection of the mirror on the wall.
"Why?" She seemed genuinely surprised by his offer and conveyed it through a quick contortion of her features. Her eyes narrowed in slight suspicion of him as though he had just offered her something too good to be true. Strange... equally strange was that he had no answer to the question she had posed.
"I don't actually have an answer for that other than, typically, in situations such as these where one is at a fanciful party and a beautiful woman approaches the bar, the gentleman offers to pay for her drink in the hopes of continuing the conversation longer with her." He admitted, tilting his face towards her in a smoldering intensity that he saw caused her to arch her eyebrow at him. His lips curled finally into a smirk as he saw she was unimpressed by his cheesy reasoning. She saw straight through him. He was caught and so he owned it. "And also, I wanted to."
"It isn't your sweet conversation that brings this sensation, oh no... It's just the nearness of you…" The music continued to play, the mood of the room changing. "When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me... all my wildest dreams come true..."
She said nothing and only watched him, locking her gaze with his own as if searching for something hidden within his orbs. She had turned her body to face him, leaning her right arm onto the bar counter and holding her wrist with her left hand to allow her left arm to hang comfortably. The posture caused her full breasts to be elevated in the deep plunge of her neckline, pushed up by her left arm beneath them. He could not help his eyes from drifting downwards, the reveal making his instincts react.
"I need no soft lights, to enchant me. If you'll only grant me…" The woman's voice grew softer, her time in the song dwindling so that the band could prepare for the man's solo. The woman in the cobalt, gold, and black mask took a deep breath, trying to make her mind up about the man to her right. "...the right to hold you ever so tight and to feel in the night, the nearness of you."
The woman's voice faded away and a man's, deep and rough, took up her place to continue the song, "It's not the pale moon that excites me... that thrills me and delights me, oh no... it's just the nearness of you."
"Gentleman wanting to continue conversation, you say?" Her voice was teasing, her movement having been purposeful. His eyes drifted upwards once more, meeting hers that were full of mischief. Before he could retort, Larry returned with their drinks and set them down on top of the napkins resting there. The woman lifted her left hand and reached her slender, delicate fingers into the plunge of her neckline. She tauntingly pulled out cash from her bosom and slid it across the counter to the barkeep. It was far too much. He could see that clearly from where he stood despite being mesmerized- and taken aback -by her actions.
"Miss?" Larry questioned, looking over how much of a tip he would receive for one $7 cocktail as well as her actions. A small blush crept over his cheeks, brightening his pale features as he swallowed hard and licked his lips.
"It's for the gentleman's drink as well." She looked to the man on her left and raised her glass to him, taking a sip. She blinked ever so slowly at him and removed the glass from her pink lips, lapping at the drink that lingered on them.
Oh, how he wanted to lap at those lips himself!
"Because I wanted to." She smiled, seeing how hard he swallowed in response to her purposeful actions. She turned towards the barkeep, "Thank you. It's very good."
She then walked away from the bar with her tall glass in hand, hips swaying seductively. He guessed, based on their earlier interaction, that she was not trying now to be seductive. No, this was a natural talent that she had always had. One she was either unaware of or uncaring about. Her gaze as she looked at the other partygoers had returned to somber, melancholy once more.
Her heels clicked with practiced skill as she dodged partygoers again. Larry looked to the man, whose features conveyed his confusion by the turn of events. He and the barkeep both looked out at the ballroom and spotted her once more. She had stopped at the balcony doors along the wall of windows and turned her head towards them. She raised her glass to the man in the Occhi mask again. Her pink, supple lips did not curve into a smile this time nor a smirk. Instead, they were flat, almost pouting. This was her thank you, her goodnight.
As she left to head outside, the man in the Occhi mask looked back at the barkeep for a brief moment. He turned his attention to the drink before him and raised it to his lips, taking a long gulp of it. Larry stared at his friend, open mouthed and wide eyed. This man, his friend, had always been a lady's man. Always had a quip or a line, yet here this woman in blue had turned the tides on him. He was left with nothing but silence and contemplation.
"Well, aren't you going to follow her?" Larry encouraged through tight lips and a lowered voice.
"No. You saw her. She said her goodnight." He replied to the barkeep and set his drink back on the counter.
"I must insist, sir." Larry prodded him and side-glanced at the man's brother, who continued to blather on to another barkeeper. "Your brother won't notice your absence."
"You insist?" The man stood straighter, eyebrow arched as he stared his friend down. Larry set his lips in a thin line and nodded his head towards the balcony doors. He did it twice more, earnestly prodding his friend to go. It had been years since Larry had seen his friend in a relationship. Years since he had heard his friend talk about a woman he was with, either for friendly companionship or for a nightly moment of pleasure. Here, this woman, mysterious and beautiful, had stunned him; intrigued him; had enthralled him. That never happened.
"Yes. As your friendly barkeep, I must insist you go after that beautiful woman before she slips away into the night forever." Larry spoke through tight lips again and sighed through his nose in frustration. The man in the Occhi mask looked to his brother and then back at Larry.
"Watch him for me, will you?" He asked the barkeep, who quickly agreed, as he headed away from the bar with his drink in hand. He was not as graceful as she had been on the floor. He got cornered and stopped every which way he turned by someone or other he knew wishing to speak with him or a woman desiring to dance with him. He politely turned them all away, his mind harboring only one ploy. He needed to be around her again.
When he had finally made it to the door of the balcony, she was gone from sight. The balcony was large and she was nowhere in sight beneath the light of the moon. He made his way outside into the breezy night, closing the door behind him and walked to the railing. He sat his drink down on the wide railing and looked over at the balcony below, but saw only couples whispering into each other's ears. He rested his hands on the railing, allowing his body to droop and bending his left knee.
"Ships that pass in the night, and speak to each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness." He recited to himself, watching the couples below with earnest desire to be among them. "So, on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence."
The night fell quiet, music from the party inside distant and the whisperings of the couples below soundless.
"Henry Wadsworth Longfellow." A lilting, melodic voice drifted on the breeze and caught his ear. His frown slowly lifted into a lopsided grin. "Certainly, didn't have you pegged as a poetry man."
He stood straight and turned to his left. In the corner of the balcony she stood, reclining back with arms resting on either side of the corner railing. Her eyes seemed to gleam in the brief passes of moonlight that drifted through the branches of the tree behind her; tall and old.
"Are you following me?" Her voice held a lilt of suspicion as if she worried he was up to no good. Her eyes narrowed behind her mask, turning her gaze to slits that made her look ever more feline like.
"I merely came to enjoy the mountain air, look out over the sea." He turned himself to face her, right hand resting on the balcony railing still. Her drink sat in her left hand, pointer finger playing with her straw mindlessly. "But if I was?"
He countered her claim with a voice calm and steady. She said nothing at first and then gave a small shrug of her shoulders, looking down to her left at the couples below them on the lower balcony. He could sense her demeanor change.
"Then I would warn you that I'm quite dangerous." She looked back at him, no smile gracing her lips. Her expression held finality and sadness within them.
Was she trying to put him off? To intimidate him?
"Dangerous, you say?" He took a few calculated steps closer to her, not wanting to scare her away. She nodded her head and took a sip of her drink, not at all bothered by his approach. Perhaps she was telling him the truth then...
He noticed her drink was indeed tall. It was surely more whiskey than coke if Larry had made it, but she held her alcohol well. Even mixed it between whiskey and champagne, which was never advised. It was half gone, signifying to him that she was trying to drown something within her. Perhaps the pain she felt from the conversation with the man earlier.
"I'm afraid it's true. I'm dangerous." She nodded her head and gave a small, dejected laugh. She raised her head, mask glittering in the moonlight. Her eyes, dark pools of blue, reflected the light and brightened with rebelliousness. "Can't you tell by the mask? I'm a natural born killer. R-r-r-a-r."
She raised her free hand and pawed like a tiger, roaring feebly at him. She made it to be a joke, but he found it rather enticing... and suspicious. A joke that was not a joke. An attempt to hide a truth by making fun of it.
He felt himself straighten, taking the initiative to close the distance between them, and stood a mere few feet from her. He set his drink down on the thick railing and leaned on his right elbow to look at her. The moonlight broke through the branches of the tree behind her, a streak raining across her eyes and illuminating them like an old film.
He studied her closely. His eyes scanned what he could see of her face. Her ears were small, feminine. Her jawline and chin set and strong. Her lips were plump and supple, painted a deep rosy pink by lipstick. Her nose was delicate, the smallest of bumps on her bridge that he found endearing. Her eyes, mesmerizing pools that spoke volumes of her personality.
"Forgive me, miss, but I know killers and you don't resemble any of them in the leasts." He responded eyes trailing over her slowly again, languidly as he took in everything about her appearance.
God have mercy! – she was stunning.
"What do I look like then?" She probed, sipping her drink as her eyes watched him over the glass. He raised his own glass to his lips and finished it, setting it back down on the railing once more with the ice chinking against the side.
"Like someone who came to this party with one purpose in mind. Not the fanciful decorations, the enchanting music, or the throngs of people eating and drinking the night away. You were here for someone." He began, watching her as she shifted under his scrutiny. He made her nervous. He both disliked that fact and thrived on it. "You're a woman who chooses to find solitude after her date has wronged her and left her alone, providing no barricade against the people inside."
Her gaze flicked to the windows of the ballroom, watching the people inside laughing and dancing. She looked down briefly before returning her gaze to him. He had inched closer, his right hand only a few inches from her left on the railing.
"The color of your dress, sapphire, is a unique choice. A shocking, somber blue that should make you stand out, but has instead done the opposite. With purpose, I am sure. Your mask as well..." He nodded his head towards her mask, motioning with a hand. "A Gatto Arco Strass in cobalt blue. Everyone else has chosen simpler masks with less complexity in colors bland and faded. So, I can only assume you are trying to feel powerful and in control of a situation you actually had no control or power over to begin with."
"You've commented on my business here tonight, my formal wear, what about me though?" She insisted, her breath unsteady, but kept under control enough that anyone else would not have noticed her uneasiness. The music within the ballroom changed again, the beat picking up with piano, drums and trumpet. Voices inside rose, floating out into the night around them. He took their moment of silence to inch closer again, his fingers a hair from hers. He stood straighter, staring down upon her with his smile slipping from his lips.
"You're not dangerous." He commented, watching as she too stood taller to meet his stare with pride and confidence. "You're strong, yes, but that defines you in many ways; physically, mentally, emotionally. But you don't feel strong. Not really. You are braver than you believe you are. You want to be noticed, but no matter what, even wearing such a stunning dress, you float through the room like a ghost because that is what you have always done."
He stopped, took in her temperament and then continued.
"You are a thinker, a dreamer." He paused a moment, seeing something flash in her eyes like a sigh of relief. "You long for something... and the man in the green and copper mask stole it from you, didn't he?"
She said nothing at first. She only stared up at him with no expression on her face. He didn't need a smile or a frown, words of agreement. He saw all he needed to in her eyes. The truth… God, he hated being right.
"That was very... impressive." She let the word escape her gently though she felt like a wild animal caught in a net. "You have a talent for reading people."
She licked her bottom lip and then turned her head to look out over the balcony, over the mountains and the sea in the distance. He watched her closely, knowing he had hit a tender nerve. He had not meant to go that far or even start such an inquisition such as he had done.
"I apologize. I meant neither to pry nor to hurt you." He explained, noticing her demeanor had changed from playful to defensive.
"You don't need to apologize. You merely did what I asked." She looked back at him, eyes alluring beneath her mask as the moonlight caught them again. She was bothered, he could see it in the way she sucked her lips inwards and released them quickly. She was thinking what to do, what to say. "The man, the one you saw me with, wasn't my date."
"Partner then?" He questioned further, eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask as he wondered what kind of partner he had meant himself; work… or play?
She gave a small scoff and clicked her tongue against her cheek. She shook her head and looked away for a moment. He scolded himself and made to open his mouth again, but thought better of it. She looked back at him and sighed, tapping a nail against the glass in her hand.
"He used to be." She answered and then shook her head, blonde hair pinned perfectly so that it did not move from the Chignon. She met his gaze again. "We used to work together. He's my... was my... never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."
He felt himself breathe a breath of relief as his spirits rose. Just as quickly they fell when he saw the melancholy wash over her again as she lost herself to her thoughts. It had been some time since he had been in the company of a woman. Much longer since he had been in the company of a woman who could keep stride with him. But these strides were dragging her down, pulling her under a wave he had not noticed earlier. He was helping her drown instead of saving her.
"May I ask what happened?" He did not know why he pushed the subject. Something about the way she stared at him, implored him to continue as though she was begging for someone to ask her; for someone to talk to.
"Honestly?" She asked softly, gently, as though testing his invitation to speak about the subject.
"Always." His expression turned serious, concerned, as he awaited her explanation patiently. She took a moment and nibbled on her bottom lip as she phrased her words carefully inside her mind.
"He was someone I thought I could rely on... for anything. No matter what." She spoke finally, trying to force a smile and dodging his question slightly. "Turns out, he isn't."
"I'm sorry." He didn't know quite what else to say to her.
"I'm not." She gave him a small smile that reassured him. "He has his reasons. Good reasons."
The air between them fell silent apart from the music from inside the ballroom. The breeze brushed over their exposed skin carrying a nip in it. He saw goosebumps creep over her flesh and watched her cross her arms to barricade against the chill.
"Take my jacket." He offered, already beginning to shrug it off his shoulders. She went to protest, but thought better of it.
"You are a gentleman." She gave a small laugh and took to the jacket from him, tossing it over her shoulders. It drooped over her slender frame, but the sight brought a smile to his lips and raised one side of his mustache.
"May I ask your name?" He sought to change the subject, seeing that he had already done well to bring her back from her melancholy.
"For tonight, just call me, J." She replied genuinely. He was gifted with a warm smile that reached her eyes. He cocked an eyebrow at her in bemusement. How quickly she could brighten up. He had certainly been right when he deducted she was strong. Either that or good at repressing. He chose to believe the latter.
"And if we met another night?" He inched closer to her in the shadows, moonlight dripping down in small concentrated rays. "What would I call you then?"
"Josephine." She stated, watching him as he approached her more. She felt his fingers on the railing brush over hers ever so lightly. The heat warmed her skin and sent tingles up her arm. She hadn't realized how tall he was before or how broad his shoulders were, making his vest and dress shirt taut over his muscular chest. "You're clever... and funny. I like funny men."
"Well Madame," His lips curled once more into a lopsided grin, mustache rising on one side, "you came to the right masquerade ball then."
She laughed lightly, tilting her head downwards, cat ears of her mask pointing towards him. She shifted the jacket on her shoulders, holding it closed with her free hand.
"It would seem I did." She raised her gaze again and licked her lips, biting her bottom one at the corner. He could not help but feel his collar and bowtie tighten around his throat, the air growing warmer inside his clothes. She gave a small laugh, the sound sharp but not biting. It reminded him of a lightning strike; full of power, beautiful, mesmerizing.
"What should I call you, funny man?" She questioned, feeling his fingers move upwards and backwards over her own.
"You milady, may call me, Jacques Snicket." He replied and she smiled up at him, standing only a few inches shorter than him thanks to her heels. He guessed she was almost half a foot shorter than him without them. A perfect height for a woman in his eyes.
"...Jacques..." His name rolled off her tongue with fluidity, sweet like honey and smooth like silk. "It suits you."
"My parents believed so." He quipped as he allowed his fingers to travel further up her hand, palm on the back of hers. He rubbed his thumb over her smooth, firm skin. He felt her hand twitch beneath his and deduced she was ticklish there.
"Well, Jacques." her voice sounded a bit husky to his ears and it drove him mad with desire. She looked at their hands, pressed together on the railing of the balcony, and then looked to the couples below them. They whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, gazes full of passion and longing. She looked back up at him. "Where do we go from here?"
"Where would you like to go? I just so happen have a taxi waiting." He saw her eyes brighten behind her mask at his announcement, but not in arousal or a tantalizing nature. They grew bright as though he had just offered her an escape from a condemning sentencing.
"Anywhere that isn't here." As she stared up at him, he realized he couldn't deny her wish. Or possibly any wish. If she asked it, he may just have to grant it.
"Anywhere it is then." He straightened his tuxedo vest and offered her his left arm. She graciously took it and allowed him to lead her off the balcony stairs. They headed down each level, her holding tightly to his arm and allowing him to lead her away. When they had made it to the long driveway and stood before a yellow and black taxi, he let go of her arm and reached into his vest pocket. From within he removed a set of keys.
"It's your taxi." She breathed out, unable to hold back the laugh in her throat. "Why am I not surprised?"
"I don't know. Why aren't you?" He questioned, wanting to ask seriously but finding he could not keep a straight face with her laughter. He unlocked the door and held the back door open for her. She approached, lifting the end of her dress up to climb into the back seat. "Are you not worried I might kidnap you?"
Skepticism etched its way onto his face as he arched an eyebrow at her. She looked up at him, one hand on the open door while the other held her dress up. Her smile changed, became soft and thoughtful. It struck him funny, caused his heart to expand.
"I'm hoping you will do exactly that, Mr. Snicket." She stared up at him. Her mask concealed her identity and he was quite certain they had never met before, but something about her felt familiar. She felt... like returning home after months in the field working a mission; familiar, warm, embracing. It had been many years since he had felt this and, while it vexed him, he allowed it to overcome him.
"Though," she began again and drew him from his thoughts, "you don't seem the type."
"Don't I? Well then, what type am I?" He leaned on the open door, bringing their bodies closer to one another.
"Brave, honorable, courteous, righteous," She began, smiling at him again with that warmth that sent tingles throughout his body. She let her hand on the door travel to his, placing her palm over the back of his hand, "You're also well read and carry yourself as a Renaissance man with much sprezzatura."
Her words surprised him. He had been described similarly before, but for some reason they meant more coming from this woman; a stranger, who did not feel as such.
"I trust you." She looked to their hands on the car door and gave his a tender squeeze.
"I will honor your trust by keeping that image of myself in your mind, Josephine." His expression was firm, assured and desiring to uphold his vow to her. She smiled up at him.
"I'm sure you will, Jacques." She replied and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hands. He felt a desire rush over him to kiss her then, but before he could, she stowed herself into the back seat of his taxi. With a small sigh of relief, not wanting to rush something that he felt could be a great thing, he closed the door and hopped into the driver's seat. He started the engine and it roared to life, the taxi jostling for only a moment until it steadied out. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw her staring out the window with his jacket over her shoulders. Her hands held the opening closed, burying her bodice within the safety of his clothing. Her eyes were bright again as though she had won the lottery, a timid but sure smile on her lips as she awaited their departure.
"Onwards to anywhere, milady." He smiled at her through the reflection in the rearview mirror. She smiled back at him, but said nothing in return as he drove off down the long winding driveway. He couldn't help but to continue to peer into the rearview mirror often, catching glimpses of her as her expression changed in their descent. "Is there anything you want to listen to on this journey of ours?"
"Something worthy of such a feat." She leaned forward on the back of the bench seat and crossed her forearms over one another from beneath his jacket. She placed her chin on top and watched as Jacques's strong hands turned the dials on the radio. "Here. Stop."
On the radio came a slightly haunting tune that she recognized well. She began to hum along. He felt her sit back and looked up into the rearview mirror to see she hurriedly removed her golden heels, tossing them to the taxi floor. Next, she slowly and uncharacteristically gracelessly climbed over the bench seat to sit beside Jacques in the front. She turned the volume up a decibel and then began to sing gently.
"If I could save time in a bottle… The first thing that I'd like to do." She sang softly along to the melody, her voice like that of a songbird's. Jacques looked to her beside himself, watching her as her head swayed to the music. Her eyes were closed behind her mask, as her deep rosy lips continued to sing along. "Is to save every day, 'til eternity passes away... Just to spend them with you."
She opened her eyes and stared out the window to her right. She watched the trees and the mountains pass them by. The road wound this way and that down the mountain pass until they hit pavement on the main road.
"If I could make days last forever... If words could make wishes come true..." She watched as the trees disappeared and left the sight of the ocean in their wake. "I'd save every day like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you."
"You know the lyrics well." Jacques commented, voice gentle and noninvasive. He enjoyed her signing just as much as he had always enjoyed whistling a tune alongside his brother. He turned his head to look over at her. "And you sing beautifully."
"You're full of compliments tonight, sir Jacques." She turned her head and looked back at him, smiling almost shyly. He turned forward again, looking at the road ahead, and then to the rearview mirror.
"It's easy to make compliments of someone when there are many wonderful traits to compliment on." He explained, turning the wheel ever so slightly to the right as they went around a bend. He turned to her again, but found she was staring at the beach and the sea; lost to their beauty. "I believe I know where anywhere is."
He drove them farther up the road and then turned off onto the beach access. He parked, turned off the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. Without him saying anything, he opened his door and walked around the car to get hers. However, before he could she had already stepped out of the vehicle and was closing her door behind her. She had left his jacket in the front seat, arms and shoulders exposed once more to the breeze.
"Would you care to sit? I have a spare blanket I keep in the trunk." He announced, motioning with a thumb over his shoulder to the trunk of the taxi. She turned to look back at him, genuine smile on her lips that reached her eyes behind the mask.
"Yes, please." She replied and walked ahead of him, barefooted and holding the end of her dress in one hand as she stepped onto the sand. He opened the trunk and reached for the blanket that sat wedged among all the books. Tucking it under his arm, he reached for his dress shoes and untied them, replacing them in the trunk where the blanket had been. He closed the trunk and locked the taxi, heading into the sand.
He looked for the mysterious woman and found she had made it to the water with ease. She stood near it, allowing the waters to lap at her toes as she held onto her dress. He set the blanket out, finding several rocks to secure each corner, and then stood waiting for her; watching her. Her shoulders rose a fell steadily as she breathed in the salty sea air. The tides were calm, small waves crashing against the shore where she stood. The moon shone brightly, its reflection rippling in the water and casting a glittering glare over her.
She turned, stared straight at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. His breath hitched at the sight of her against the moonlit waters. A vision, indeed she was. A siren who called to him with eyes that promised so much; comfort, loyalty, strength... love.
He watched her as she turned away from him again and faced the calm sea. She reached her hands up, taking hold of her dress straps and slowly, painfully slow, pulled them off her shoulders. Her black nails were in contrast against her slightly tanned skin. Her fingers trailed over her arms as she pulled the fabric of her dress down lower, over her breasts that were out of his sight, and stopping at her waist. She turned her head to look back at him again with arms crossed over her chest and eyes asking him a silent request.
He knew what she wanted, but found himself suddenly conflicted. Would giving in condemn her or lift her spirits? Was he truly something, someone, who could comfort her the way she desired comfort tonight?
With slow movements, he began to undress. He undid the buttons of his vest, his shirt, and slid them off his chest and shoulders. He tossed them to the blanket and began undoing his belt, his pants' button, the zipper, halting to look back at her. She watched him with steady eyes that marveled at his physique as they traveled over his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen, and stopping where his hands held the loops of his pants. Her eyes returned to his as she turned away once more, pushing her thumb into the fabric that had collected at her hips. With a single push, the sapphire fabric fell to the sand at her feet.
His chest tightened at the sight of her. His heart raced, blood pumping in his ears. He had been with many women over the years, but none like her. She was a rare breed, special, and for tonight she was his. His eyes fell over her bare back and dropped to her heart-shaped buttocks. It was perfectly formed, tight and womanly against her rounded hips and slender hourglass waist.
As he tugged his pants down, fingers clasping the waist band of his boxers, he caught her raising her arms up to her head. With slender, nimble fingers, she pulled at the pins in her hair. As her fingers fell away, her hair waterfalled down her back in blonde waves and stopped right above her buttocks. She left her mask on, making her more like an ethereal vision than a physical woman. With a sure step, she sauntered her way into the waves with hips rocking from side to side as though to allure him.
He needed no more allurement. He was caught in her spell willingly, knowing that if he followed her into the water he would seal his fate. He would be bound to her forever. Her and her alone... and he was all too happy to accept that fate.
He let his boxers fall to his ankles and kicked them onto the blanket. He marched towards the water, watching her with the powerful gaze of a predator watching its prey. The water was warmer than he expected as he strolled into the oncoming wave. It struck him gently as though caressing him, coercing him towards her. She turned when she could stand comfortably, water coming to her breasts and barely covering her nipples. She watched him stride towards her through the water, eyes taking in the full sight of his body.
He was magnificent. Like Poseidon in the flesh, moving the sea to get to her. Strong shoulders, broad chest, muscular legs, and well endowed. Her eyes met his as the water covered his waist and she saw then his desire to claim her. To make her his own. To consume her, body and soul. It was a powerful look that stole her breath and forced her heart to pick up pace in order to keep her blood moving.
He stopped before her, staring down at her as he felt the sand move beneath his feet with the tides. Both held onto the little secrecy they had left by wearing their masks. They said nothing and only the sound of the crashing waves filled the void. She found herself nervous suddenly, questioning herself. He saw it, a flicker in her eyes, and took a step closer to her while taking her hands in his.
He said nothing, unable to form the right words, and instead pulled her to him. Her breasts met his chest first and then their pelvises. She gasped at the contact, a furious blush crossing her cheeks. He took a hand from hers and raised it to his face, pushing his mask up and off. He tossed it to the sea, allowing the waves to carry it away.
He watched as she studied his features. Her eyes scanned quickly over him, taking in the sight of his unburdened face. Then, gently, he placed his free hand against her cheek. He saw her swallow hard, knowing what he was about to do. She did not protest. She did not back away. She rooted herself against him and waited for what was to come.
Slowly, his fingers moved beneath the mask. He felt buttery smooth skin on her cheek, beneath her eye. He tugged the mask up, millimeter by millimeter. He rested it at the crown of her head for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her. He had known she was beautiful before, since the moment she had stepped into the ballroom. But now, viewing her features with no obstruction, he realized he had been wrong. She was exquisite, gorgeous, there was no right word to describe her.
He sensed she wanted to look away from his gaze. She didn't though. She met it full force, trying to stay brave and confident. He tipped the mask off her head and the sea took it away with his, leaving them open and vulnerable to the other.
"You're quiet, funny man." Her words, her breathy laugh, were so soft that he barely made them out. His fingers played on her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin like silk.
"What would you like me to say?" He questioned, voice deep and warm. She shook her head of wet, blonde hair and looked away out at sea.
"I'm very nervous." She looked back up at him, nerve endings on the tipping point. He took his hand that was wrapped up in hers and wove it behind her back. His fingers spread out to encompass as much of her lower back they could, holding her firmly to him. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, quick and unsteady.
"I know." He confirmed, looking over the parts of her that weren't hidden by the ocean. He shook his head slowly. "You don't have to be."
"I put on a good show, but..." She breathed out and closed her eyes, swallowing hard again. She gave a small, nervous laugh, "I'm not very good at this."
"You're perfect." His breath was low, tender, meaningful. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, feeling his large palm resting against her cheek while the other held her back. She moved her shaky hands and placed one on his chest, the other behind his back and on his shoulder.
"I'm far from it." She acknowledged and he could see in her eyes her belief.
"Not from where I'm standing." He countered, eyes darting between hers. His heart pace steadied as he grew confident, taking charge of the situation as he realized she couldn't. She needed strength, to feel secure. He could do that. He could be her strength. "I have a pretty good view from here."
"You don't know me, Jacques."
"I think I do." His lips curled into a tender smile as she blinked up at him. Slowly, tentatively, he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, soft, comforting. It felt right to him as though it was always meant to be. She was meant to be his.
He pulled back, eyes closed and placed his forehead against hers. He felt her nails dig into his back, firmly but not harshly. Her warm breath blew against his face, the smell of alcohol on it. Her liquid courage had worn off and now she was left with the remains. She opened her eyes and met his, foreheads pressed together. She tilted her head and captured his lips with hers, kiss more demanding.
Her left arm crawled up his chest and wrapped around his neck while his right hand moved beneath the water to hold tightly to her hip. He pulled her tighter against him, lips crushing one another's in an attempt to make them as close as possible. Each felt a desire, a need, to be close to the other. A force driving them together as they refused to pull apart.
Jacque moved swiftly, wrapping his large hands under her thighs and hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. She shifted so both her arms wrapped around his neck, ankles crossing behind his back to lock her in this new position. One of his hands trailed down her thigh to her hip to her buttocks, groping and kneading the flesh. Their kiss turned hungry, breaking for short bursts only to collide together once again.
She felt his cock growing beneath her rump, hard and straight. She pulled back from him, gasping for breath and met his stare. She saw his eyes were clouded with lust, darting between her eyes as he waited patiently for her. She pressed her lips to his again, this time softer, gentler.
With her wrapped tightly around him, he turned them towards shore. He carried her easily in the water, feet certain despite the soft sand beneath. Even on shore, she seemed to weigh nothing to him, despite her muscle and athletic form. They pulled back to stare at one another, the moonlight catching her face. She stared at him with fire in her eyes like a cat in heat.
He continued to walk them towards the blanket, the motion of his steps jostling her against him and sending pleasure down his spine as his cock throbbed beneath her rump. He knelt first and then lowered her as well as himself carefully downwards. His arms hit the ground first, protecting her from impact as her wet hair splayed about around her head. He loosened his hold and pulled back to stare down at her, eyes traveling her nude body for the first time. He allowed a hand to travel from her collarbone to her breasts that were full and perky despite lying on her back. He groped one, the size just right in his palm; not too big, not too small... just perfect.
His hand traveled lower, fingers trailing softly over her skin and bringing forth goosebumps. He allowed his hand to slide over her abdomen and trail off to the right to settle on her hip. She trembled beneath his touch and breathed out a husky, heavy sigh. It excited him to know he could elicit such a response from her lips, cause her eyes to cloud with sexual haze.
"You are the most marvelous creature I have ever seen." He breathed out, words husky and voice trembling. He was not so sure of himself now. In her presence, in all his glory, he felt uncertain; unworthy. However, the smile that rose to her lips consoled him as her hands trailed from behind his neck to take his cheeks. She pulled him closer and captured his lips, his mustache tickling her. Her legs, still wrapped tightly around his waist, relaxed as her smooth feet slowly slid over his hips and further down his legs. They wrapped over his awkwardly, pushing her pelvis closer to his. He pulled back from her kiss and peered down at her. His left hand caressed her cheek, thumb rubbing over the supple skin.
"Are you sure about this?" He found himself questioning, eyebrows knitting together. She could still walk away from this, from him. He wouldn't stop her, couldn't stop her, but he would be heartbroken. He had only just met her, but the idea of her rejecting him now, of walking away, of the possibility of never seeing her again after this night... it felt as though it may be the death of him. No, he was certain of it.
"Are we ever sure of anything in this life?" She answered his question with her own. He felt her fingers drawing lazy designs on his back as they glided lower towards his buttocks and shivered at the sensation. "We live in a world wrought with chaos and darkness, never knowing what the next day may hold."
"We are the best chance of extinguishing that chaos and cruelty, which threatens to consume the world." He claimed, voice soft, but full of passion. She could see in his eyes how very dear his work as a Volunteer was to him. It was his life. It was his reason for being.
"Perhaps." She breathed out, unable to disagree openly with him completely. Her views were different, especially now, especially after tonight. She wished she could feel the same as he did. She had... once. No longer though. Those feelings were long gone.
"You believe differently?" He searched her eyes for some sign that he wasn't hearing what he believed he was. Had she lost hope in the Volunteers? In their work? ...what exactly had her conversation been with the man in the green and copper mask?
"I have spent too much of my life analyzing every little thing that I do. Ensuring I know every possible outcome before I rush into a situation. Caring more about the greater good than those I actually care for." She breathed out, licking her lips and biting on the bottom one gently as she continued to think. "I was not expecting to meet you, Jacques Snicket. You have thrown a monkey wrench into my plans."
He listened to her words quietly as he stroked his left hand through her hair at the crown of her head. Gone was her nervousness, her uncertainty and returned was her confidence and strength. However, her words put him in unease.
"I want to rush into things without thinking. I want to be carefree and make bad choices that cause me to fail sometimes." She saw the look now firmly held in his eyes. He didn't agree with her. How could he? She knew he wouldn't. None of them would. None of them could. She was different; so very different from them all. "I want to experience living my life for myself before it's too late."
"I assume you told the man in the green and copper mask the same thing and he didn't agree?" He questioned, though he knew the moment the idea had popped into his mind that it was the correct answer. She closed her eyes and turned her head away.
"He lives to be a Volunteer. Just like you. It's his life. His reason for being." She explained, voice so quiet he could barely hear it over the crashing ocean waves. "My brother can't imagine his life apart from the V.F.D."
"Your brother..." He breathed out and watched as she turned her head, looking to the sea. She watched the moon's reflection on the rippling tide, feeling the tides of change overcoming her. She didn't want the life of a Volunteer anymore. She wanted something else, something more.
"Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it." She breathed out, reciting the words she heard whispered inside her own head. "Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."
"Martin Luther King Jr." Jacques quoted softly, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. She turned her face into his palm, taking one of her own hands to clasp it and keep it rooted there. "The life of a Volunteer is never easy. But it is worth it. It's full of danger and uncertainty, but we save people, change lives."
"But what about our lives?" Her question was desperate, eyes searching his for an easy answer. Unfortunately, he had none. In his youth, he had asked the same questions. He had searched for answers, the same as her, and came up short. She shook her head at him, "What about us?"
"Well," he began and thought honestly about the answer for a long moment, "we partner up to face down evil and wrongdoers. Then, when you agree of course, we get married. We have two, no, three children and live out the rest of our days behind a white picket fence awaiting the time when we introduce our little ones to the V.F.D."
He saw a smile grace her lips again, a twinkling in her eyes; a hope. He let his hand on her cheek slip into her hand and held it there, lacing their fingers together and gently pushing it back against the blanket at her head. His left hand moved down her side to her hip and then to her upper thigh, holding it firmly with large palms and long fingers. His thumb drew lazy circles there to comfort her.
"Marriage and children huh? You have it all planned out, do you?" She questioned with a small laugh, but behind it he saw sadness. Her voice fell lower, grew softer as though whispering, "You don't know me, Jacques Snicket."
"I know enough." He whispered back, smiling down at her. Her right hand came up from his back and under his left arm, moving upwards to tangle itself in his dark hair. "Will that do, milady?"
"Yes. That will do." She breathed out, voice quiet among the crashing waves. She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss that promised him it was plenty. This man, this wonderful, funny, endearing man had not been what she expected to come out of the night. She had expected to walk out into the darkness, flee far away, disappear into nothing. He was a beacon, a lighthouse that called to her as she floated lost at sea. In his eyes he promised that very life he had described; full of love and fulfillment. He promised her safety, comfort, strength so long as she would stay in his arms.
"I want this." She breathed out when they pulled apart. His right hand rested behind her head, helping her to reach him. "I want you. I want that future. I want it all."
Her declaration sent heat soaring through him from head to feet. It was a warmth that filled his body and mind, gave his soul flight. He watched her closely for a moment as he reached towards his tuxedo pants. From within he pulled out his wallet and then the small, wrapped square hidden within. He wanted to proclaim safety first, but his quip did not make it passed the filter in his mind. He didn't want to ruin the moment, the night, they shared.
He tossed the wrapper away and kissed her tenderly beneath her ear as his hands wandered her bodice. He kissed her jawline, her neck, her collar bone and then moved lower to tease her breasts. His tongue danced around one while his hand played with the other, kneading and thumb tantalizing the erect nipple. The hand on her thigh moved towards her center, feeling the warmth that protruded from her core. His fingers played gently over her the shaved mound of flesh that protected her most sensitive core and produce from her lips a breathy moan that sent excitement soaring through him.
He felt his cock twitch with anticipation against her thigh, but he would not rush this. He wanted it to last. His fingers continued their play, slowly moving the soft folds to find the sensitive nub. She shuddered at the touch, light and erotic, and moved her hands to his hair. Her fingers knitted themselves there, tugging on the dark strands. He watched her face construe as his thumb worked the nub, rolling over it in slow circles. His fingers found her entrance and he gently pushed one digit inside, feeling her moist walls surround it. He crooked it, moving it slowly outwards till he hit her pelvic bone and then back in.
Her breath hitched with the sensation as her hands tugged on his hair. She bit her bottom lip, eyes closed tightly as her body warmed and tingled. His other hand continued to tease her breasts, tugging and pinching erotically at the nipples that stood erect. He felt his own breath grow husky as he watched her writher beneath him at his ministrations. She moaned and it drew from him a guttural, animalistic sound from deep in his chest.
He felt her walls tighten around his finger as he knew he drew her close to the edge. He withdrew and positioned himself above her, his throbbing cock poised at her entrance. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, fingers releasing his hair and moving to his upper arms. He felt every twitch, listened to every gasp, watched every emotion that overcame her face as he pushed himself inside of her.
She moaned as he filled her to the hilt with his large member, hands on his arms tightening. He was bigger than any man she had been with before, the sensation new and satisfying. He filled her completely and wholly, like a key made for only one lock.
He lowered his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of her most sacred place wrapped tightly around him. He waited a long moment, overcoming a hurdle of passion and desire to thrust so passionately into her that he surely would not last longer than a breath.
He rested his right elbow beside her head and gripped her right thigh with his left hand. He tugged her leg up so that it wrapped around his hip, driving himself deeper into her warmth. When he opened his eyes, he found two bright blue orbs already peering back at him. She moved her right hand to his cheek and moved it further back so that her fingers reached his neck, thumb rubbing near his temple. It as a firm, comforting hold that made his hand on her thigh latch on tighter.
He pulled back from her warmth and then thrust back in. She groaned, wanting more, wanting it faster, but he wished this moment to last. He knew, without a doubt, that afterwards they would part and that he may never see her again. Her words, her looks, had been a sign of what she had been planning to do. She would disappear; from the V.F.D., from her brother, from him...
He thrust into her again, swifter, but still gentle. Their bodies rocked together with each collision, every thrust growing more needy and erratic. She moaned and with her moan he felt a fire burn deep within him. He groaned, closing his eyes tightly as his pleasure overtook him. He thrust quicker, deeper within her, feeling her warmth spread over his cock. Her walls tightened, her body rocking beneath his as her moans grew louder.
"Oh God, Jacques..." Her voice was husky with pleasure and the call of his name on her warm breath, crossing passed her deep rosy lips, was too much.
"Say it again." He begged her, hands moving to her hips and aiding in deepening his thrusts. Her hands moved from his arms to grip the blanket beneath her as she tilted her head back. He watched her, seeing the exposure of her throat, and dove in to nip at her neck. He growled into the flesh of her throat with hot, moist breath. "Please, say it again."
"Jacques." She consented to his request, driving him wild with lust. His large hands moved to her back and groped the fleshy mounds of her buttocks. His fingers dug into her flanks and pulled her to him, his pelvis striking hers. He lowered his abdomen to her, resting on both elbows beside her head. His lips found the tender spot beneath her ear and he kissed her there, feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders. He felt her lips touch the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder and he growled, low and husky. He broke from her tender spot, forcing her to pull away from his crook, and crashed his lips onto her. It was passionate, full of heat and force as he drove into her.
"...Jacques..." she breathed out as they pulled away and he could hear in her voice that she was close. He slid his arms behind her back and held her close to him, protecting her body with his own as his thrusts turned short and fluid. Her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, her hips grinding into his own. He felt her legs wrap tightly around him, locking him there between them. He felt her body go rigid, the walls of her core tighten and then convulse as climax took her from him. She arched her back and cried out into the salty night air. He followed close behind her, riding out her climax with his own.
His arms shook as the climax racked him, vision spotty as he stared down at her. She gazed back at him, lips parted and breathing heavy. He lowered his head beside hers, closing his eyes again and catching his breath. He kept them locked, two bodies as one, for a long while as he relished the feeling of her beneath him.
Finally, he pulled back enough to stare down at her again and brushed his fingers through her hair. She took his hand and kissed his fingers, pressing his palm against her cheek. He didn't want to, but he pulled out of her, hearing her small groan of protest. He tugged the condom off and tossed it off the blanket, rolling onto his back. She curled into him, head rested on his chest and fingers trailing over his abdomen. The sensation tickled, but relaxed him.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, feeling her pull herself closer. Her legs entwined themselves with his, ensuring that she was going nowhere for a while. He listened to her heavy breathing as she tried to catch her breath, the warmth that crossed her lips blowing over his exposed chest. She turned her head and kissed his pectoral, trailing kisses up to his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, and then his lips. She snuggled back into his side, head on his shoulder.
He stared up at the stars and listened to the sound of the ocean waves as they crashed against the shore. He felt sleep creeping up on him and begged it to stay away a little while longer. He wanted to be in this moment with her; now and forever. However, fate had other plans and he slowly felt himself drift away to the sound of the ocean waves and her soft humming in his ear.
When he awoke, he found that he was warm and covered by something light. He reached to his right and felt for her, but quickly realized that she was not there. He fought against opening his eyes, but lost and turned to see that he was alone on the blanket. His shoes, pants, shirt and vest were neatly folded and piled on top of one another. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and stared down towards the water where no longer her sapphire dress sat.
He felt an ache burn in his chest. He sat up and raised on knee beneath the blanket that she had obviously found in his taxi and had walked back to the beach for him. He leaned an elbow on his knee and watched the sun rise over the ocean, sky changing from shades of dark blue to pink and purple. He thought about her, about the night they shared, and felt sick with the realization that she was gone.
He reached over and grabbed his boxers, pulling them on under the security of the blanket. He stood, grabbed his pants and proceeded to continue to dress himself. He picked up the blankets, shook them free of sand and bundled them under his arm. He picked up his shoes and headed up the beach, finding the keys to his taxi in his pants pocket. He unlocked the trunk and threw the blankets inside, closing it back up again. He moved to the passenger door and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the rest of the sunrise.
He heard something crinkle in his vest pocket as he rearranged his arms and patted it. Something sat wedged inside, small and folded. He fished it out with curiosity and saw it held his name on it in neat cursive.
Jacques
The sight of his name in her handwriting, thrilled him as well as damned him. It was like a cruel joke. She hadn't disappeared completely from his life, but this letter, this reminder would haunt him as would her memory. He unfolded the paper square and saw she had written him a letter, a long letter, in the same neat cursive.
I am so sorry. When you find this, I will already be gone and you will be questioning if I was ever there at all. Please know, though, that last night was not a fantasy lost to a dream, despite this mirage's disappearance.
The first few lines hurt like Hell, a bullet to the chest that threatened to stop his heart. He let his hand holding the letter fall and gnawed on his bottom lip. He shook his head and then stared back out at the sunrise, growing higher into the sky. He lifted the letter again to continue to read. He needed to know what it said. The rest of the letter, thankfully, brought a smile and a warmth to his heart.
Last night... was undoubtedly, unforgettably real. In every way, every look, every kiss, every emotion. It was genuine and it was pure. I cannot explain to you how much everything meant to me. Your words, your actions, your caring, inquisitive nature... I wish I had the right, perfect words, to describe their meaning. However, they fall short of what the actual significance, the true impact, justly is. This is the best attempt I can make: marvelously illuminating and forever transforming.
You have given me so much and I fear that I can never reciprocate. I tried to warn you when I said you didn't know me. That I was dangerous. I am dangerous. I have hurt people, even the people I care most about, during my work with the V.F.D. The organization isn't all rainbows and daisies as we have been warped to believe. Some of us have taken great strides to project that image for the rest of you.
Please know that getting involved with you, hurting you, was not my intention when we met. Neither was sharing that moment of passion beneath the moonlight. When I arrived at the masquerade ball, I never thought that someone so pure and so wonderful would see me through all the smoke and mirrors I had built up over the years. But you did, funny man. You were the only one. You saw me the moment I entered the room and saw straight through me. Just as I saw you.
I have spent my entire life living as a kind of ghost, a Spectre if you will. It was necessary. It kept me and those dearest to me safe over the years in the line of work the V.F.D. had me conducting. I hope you find some kind of solace in knowing that I count you among those I hold dear. You are dear to me, Jacques... and so I left to protect you as well from what I am about to do. I know you don't understand and I wish I could explain it all here and now, but there isn't enough paper and ink in the world for me to do so. Should we meet again, I will explain in full. That much I can do to repay your kindness.
Please, remember all that we dreamed together last night beneath the stars as we made love, because that is exactly what it was Jacques; love. Hold it close to your heart and maybe then we will see each other once more. Perhaps we will find each other behind the white picket fence, married with our three children, waiting for the day we teach them about the wonders and follies of the V.F.D., what it means to be alive, to be human, and to be in love with someone who captures not only the mind and the heart, but the soul.
Do me one final thing, Jacques. Stay brave. Stay honorable, courteous, and righteous. You have a good moral compass. Continue to follow it. It will not lead you astray unlike my own. Thank you for setting this caged bird free.
Your dreamer always and forever,
J.
Jacques stared down at the letter for a long moment. He folded it back up and pushed it back into his vest pocket where it sat like a stone there. He felt a small weight lift from his shoulders, but found his heart had instead grown heavier. Her words had both comforted him and concerned him. The work she did for the V.F.D., what was it? What had been so awful she felt the need to flee from the organization, the people she loved, and her own life? Not all rainbows and daisies... she, as well as others, had guarded that image for the rest of them. At least that's what she had said. Why did the V.F.D. need to protect its image to its own people?
He heard footsteps coming towards him and looked to the back of his taxi. His younger brother dragged towards him, disheveled and hung over. His little brother raised his arms and let them fall heavily to his sides in aggravation.
"I've been searching for you all night." His brother's voice was frustrated and tired. He walked to stand by his side and tossed his jacket through the opened window of the backseat. "Where have you been all night?"
"I was anywhere." Jacques replied with a small smile, right side of his mustache rising. He pushed his hands into his pants pockets, crossing his legs at his ankles as he leaned back against his taxi for support.
"Where is Anywhere?" His brother questioned, an outsider looking in on a situation he did not fully understand. Jacques pushed himself away from the taxi, clapped his brother on the shoulder and gave a small, huffy laugh.
"A story for another day, Lemony." Jacques clapped him again and then rounded the front of the taxi. He pulled out the keys and looked over at his brother. "Ready to go?"
Lemony said nothing and watched his brother through narrowed eyes. He knew something had happened; something good, something bad, a little of both perhaps. He didn't question him though as he slipped into the passenger's side, closing the door behind him. Lemony looked around the cabin with careful eyes and noticed something in the back seat. He turned and reached for it, picking it up to view. He turned back forward and turned the item over in his hands.
"Whose is this?" He questioned and held the mask out to his brother at the wheel. Jacques took the item and examined it, a small smile etching its way onto his lips. It was the cobalt, gold and black Gatto Arco Strass mask she had worn. How had it gotten here? Had he not forsaken it to the ocean tides last night with his own?
"It came back." Jacques breathed out, feeling his chest tighten as his fingers roamed the cat shaped mask. Lemony watched his older brother with the mask, seeing him stare at it as though an old lover. Who did the mask belong to? Where was the owner now? What had happened last night?
"Perhaps she will too then." Jacques smirked and set the mask on the dashboard, starting the engine. The taxi roared to life and they pulled away from the shore. The Snicket brothers drove quietly down the long winding roads, the station from the night before playing softly in the cabin.
"What happened last night, Jacques?" Lemony found himself curious again as he stared at the mask on the dashboard. Jacques averted his gaze for a brief moment from the road to look at the memento he now carried. The question was a loaded one with multiple answers.
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances," Jacques spoke and let his eyes drift back to the road ahead, "if there is any reaction, both are transformed. That is what happened last night, Lemony. I have been transformed."
Lemony didn't quite understand as he watched his brother, listened to him whistle a familiar tune. He didn't need to. He understood enough. Jacques had met a woman. One who had obviously struck him in a way no other had. For the first time in a long time, Jacques was happy and full of vigor again. He looked out at the road with new life and a new perspective. That was all the answer Lemony needed.
The two men sat in the cabin, driving down the long stretch of road, whistling together as the mask of the mysterious woman stared back at Jacques Snicket. It promised him many things. It promised mystery and adventure. It promised dark days ahead, but a bright future at the end of the road. It promised love and happiness.
Jacques knew one day he would meet Josephine again; the mysterious woman who had claimed his heart. It would be some time and many things would happen to them both in the interim, but fate had drawn them together. They were bound to one another, attached by a single thread that kept them linked. Eventually, they would follow it back to meet somewhere; anywhere… and then all their dreams would come true.