My masked man

The party ebbed and thrummed with the deep base drum music. Contorted faces swirled as people danced, in full masked regalia. Everywhere the finest clothes had been acquired for the ball, but the shoes were optional, and if you looked closely, you would see the swish of bare ankles as the ladies danced.

She moved through the crowd assuredly but gracefully, her figure clothed in the finest silk, dyed indigo blue, the trim blackest ink. Her mask was exquisite, looking as if the Ulysses butterfly had landed daintily upon her nose. Upon the warm coloured skin dripped amethysts tangled in shining white gold. The crowd stood back briefly admiring her as she flitted silently amongst them.

A man in a top hat dared to stop her with the crook of his cane, catching the gentle bend of her arm.

“Do not fly by so fast,” he breathed, looking into the chocolate brown eyes before him.

A sweet smile behind the mask left him confused as she moved on through the crowd. Quietly she took a seat at the fountain, her eyes alternately scanning the writhing bodies or the magestic castle turrets that overshadowed the dance. She waited patiently, still like a pond. Only her hands, gently arranging her skirts, showed her agitation.

Two hands lifted her to her feet. She allowed him this, as she allowed the whisper in her ear.

“Follow me, cherie.”

Without seeing him, she allowed herself to be led out of the courtyard, up winding turret stairs, to a room nestled right at the top. The warmth of a crackling fire greeted her, a four poster laid out in white, simple linens.

“Welcome home my darling.”

He turned her toward him, held her in his arms. She breathed him in, crushed against his chest. Her face rose to his, to see a golden god before her, his green eyes sparkling.

“Ra?” she enquired, raising her eyebrow.

“Well… I am the light of your life you keep saying.”

His smirk moved back to her mouth as his hands covered her body. He loosened her bodice, stripping her slowly as she returned the favour, removing a beetle that was a poor representation of a scarab. They stood naked, huddled together, before falling back passionately on the bed. Slowly, they explored each other, mouth and hand. As they climaxed, overhead fireworks spluttered into life.

“Happy elopement my sweet,” he mumbled, kissing her neck, slowly.

She smiled eloquently and fell back between the sheets with her new husband.

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