Slipping through shadows in the dead of night was like skipping through puddles in the middle of a rainstorm. Leaps had to be predetermined and measured flawlessly for the most success: the biggest splash or, in my case, the smallest amount of attention
The parking lot was empty and cold like the mask against my cheeks, yet there was still the likelihood of being seen. Tugging my cape closer, I sank back into the gloom and darted my eyes to the street before me. A red Honda passed by, possibly carrying a businessman on his way to catch a flight. I shook my head before turning it to Lordly Tailor. The darkness haunting the department store was particularly eerie, seeing that it was empty for once. That and the hypotheses of who lay on the other side made me almost hesitant to make my move. But I knew I had to, at least for Dessie's sake.
I bolted through the lot, burgundy boots barely skimming against the pavement. Hopping elegantly over the concrete islands heightened the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My breath, though rapid, was soft and silent. I banked right and immediately pressed my rear against the back wall of the outlet.
"Well, well."
Just as I caught my breath, it escaped me. The voice was charismatic with narcissistic spices sprinkled atop its words. I titled my head to my right just in time to watch a lean figure emerge from the dark alcove the walls made. It was a man, a lean one at that. His face held a nose suitable to be a perch for a finch, a square jaw ending at a clef chin, and atop his head lay dark, buzz-cut hair with outrageously long, blond spikes swept to his left. In his right eye was positioned a monocle that resembled a magnifying glass more than anything. He was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit with a crimson bow tied just so around his neck. White gloves had been slipped on his hands, and on his left middle finger was an admirable red gem.
"You're four minutes late, Sir Thief," he said.
I straightened my back but refused to speak. My incredible timidity had already engulfed me. I let my eyes drift to the blank sky.
"Do you have an explanation regarding your tardiness, Sir Thief? Or should I refer to you by your given name... Ron DeLite?"
Upon hearing his words, I sharply twisted my head to face the other. I spoke, but my voice was meek and tasteless compared to his. "Are you... are you my blackmailer?"
"Ah, what a crude, unsophisticated term." He shrugged slightly. "But yes, I am the one who has been sending you your directives."
"Why are you doing this!?" I cried, my hands squeezing into fists.
"You should be grateful, Mr. DeLite. Without me, you wouldn't be the MaskDeMasque standing before me. You would hardly be a thief at all without my assistance."
Pulling the floppy brim of my jade cap before my eyes ashamedly, I opened my mouth to speak but was instantaneously interrupted. "Remove the mask and your ridiculous hat. I yearn to lay my eyes upon the true features of MaskDeMasque."
An otherworldly force compelled me to do as the gentleman in front of me instructed. I shyly tugged the hat off my head, revealing the two buns of burnt-brown hair on either side of my face. I noticed his eye widen and his lip curl. Warmth raced through me, as I was sure his brain had suddenly been filled with sarcastic retorts concerning my hair.
I hesitated. When nothing was said, my trembling, gloved fingertips cupped the cheeks of my mask. A spark of embarrassment flashed in my mind, but it soon passed. This man was helping me, after all. I could at least repay him.
I pulled the mask off and let my arms return to my side.
My coffee-colored eyes watched as the expression on the other's face thawed. His smile softened and became sincerer. He reached for his monocle and plucked it from his eye, which confirmed my observation: it was, in fact, a magnifying glass. Holding it level to his face, he squinted and examined, muttering to himself on occasion. My eyes followed the subtle movements of the hand gripping his makeshift monocle. At one point, he caught my gaze, and I instinctively began to shy.
That was when his palm pressed against my cheek.
His touch was firm, but not as intimidating as I assumed it would have been. I dropped the pieces of my disguise in surprise. Perhaps it was the material his gloves were made out of... or perhaps there really was an ounce of light in his being. Either way, I trembled as he gradually guided my head back into his sight. A wide grin brightened his face.
"Zvarri!" he exclaimed. "How peculiarly handsome."
My face flushed. "C-come again?"
"Your physical appearance. Your features are subtle, almost feminine, yet I can see the flames of a true man burning in your spirit. It's quite attractive, Mr. DeLite." He returned the magnifying glass to his eye and steadied the hand against my face.
"A-attractive!?" I gulped. "I'm a married man! Besides, I'm not attracted to guys!! ... Wait, no. That's not right. I do think about men sometimes, but I don't think I'm..." My voice faded into the night. I made to turn my head in the opposite direction, but his free hand captured that cheek as well.
Our eyes seized one another's. I yearned for an opportunity to break away, but a newborn segment of my soul kept me glued to the spot. His dark orbs were so magnetic, they were drawing me closer. I couldn't stop myself from taking both of his wrists in between my fingers and running my thumbs across them.
When he spoke, his voice no longer took an egotistical tone. It was soft, soothing. "You say you think about other men sometimes?"
I nodded cautiously. "Y-yes, from time to time."
"Have you ever done anything with a man before?"
"N-no, I haven't."
His eye slowly fluttered closed, his brow furrowing. A soft sigh escaped him, and I knew what he was lost in thought about.
"Kiss me," I breathed bashfully.
I wasn't sure what came over me, but whatever it was, it caught the other by surprise as well. His eye jolted open, and his cheeks colored. I took the opportunity to continue. "Despite the threats, I've become attached to you. I occasionally think about discovering your identity and let my mind wander. This feeling, being unsure, excites me. That, and I've been wondering more and more what it would be like to be with a man. I love my Dessie, she's the world to me, but she's always willing to try new things, and I never get the chance..." My statement soon disappeared.
A merciless pause echoed between us. He slid one hand behind my head, the other arm wrapping itself around my lower back. The familiar sense of security filled me with warmth, and I allowed my body to melt into his when he pressed me against him. "Are you sure, Mr. DeLite?" he asked carefully.
I nodded slowly, but confidently. "Please, call me... Ron," I whispered, draping my arms around his neck.
"Ron." The way he breathed my name sent a vigorous tremor racing down my spine. My knees began to give, but he held me closer to his chest, pushing my head cautiously into his shoulder.
"Kiss me," I pleaded again, this time with excitement lingering in my voice.
And this time, he granted my wish.
Tilting my head gently to meet his, he emitted a soft, longing sigh. "Ron..." he murmured before gradually leaning into me and barely touching his lips against mine. The faintness made me quiver, and I returned the kiss eagerly, a gentle whimper escaping from my throat. I felt my hand slide down to his chest and my fingers entangle in his shirt. The sensation of our lips pressed together was breathtaking. We were actors performing the final scene of a romance movie. The two lovers were finally together, quenching their thirsts in a delicate yet steadily intensifying kiss.
My head was gently pushed back, and before I knew it, our tongues were tenderly wrestling, encircling and gliding against one another. I savored his subtle taste and the way his fingers played me like a piano.
Before I knew it, however, he broke the kiss.
I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest, and I slowly opened my eyes to meet his. The softhearted smile still rested on those velvety lips of his.
"You have to go home now, Ron," he said.
I cringed. "But–"
"Your wife will be worried." Even he looked disappointed.
Blushing, I spoke. "Will... will we ever–"
He nodded. "I promise you, Ron, we will physically meet again."
"Al... alright. Th-thank you for such an... amazing night."
"You mean 'morning.'" His chuckle was lighthearted.
Cracking a nervous smile, I reluctantly released him and bent down to take my mask and hat. The mask was cold again, but it immediately warmed once it came in contact with my flushed skin.
"Goodbye for now, Ron." The words that floated from his lips sounded so sweet.
"Goodbye," I replied before unwillingly slipping toward the front of the store.
By the time I reached my hideout, I realized that I never asked him for his name.