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“And why would I do that?” she asks, her head tilting to the side.
“For no other reason than you want to,” I push.
“Who says I want to?”
“Don’t you, little bird?” I tease.
“Little bird?”
“The mask,” I tell her, pointing to my own face fully covered by my mask.
“One drink won’t hurt,” she tells me, settling back in her seat.
“Same again?” I ask, moving another seat closer but still leaving one between us.
“Sure,” she replies. I signal to the bartender which has him stepping over to us. “Whiskey neat,” she tells him.
“Make that two,” I add, which makes her lip pull up in the corner. The bartender pours our drinks, placing them on coasters in front of each of us. I take a generous sip before placing my glass back. I enjoy this type of drink a lot more than the fizz of the champagne.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of her taking a drink herself before copying my movements and placing her glass down. I don’t know what to say now that I have her focus, so I start with small talk.
“Are you enjoying the party?” I ask, not wanting to give anything away that may suggest it’s me.
“Between you and I, it’s very uppity, don’t you think?” I choke back a laugh.
“That’s one way to put it, for sure,” I reply, taking another sip.
“It’s a bit much with all the theatrics,” she says, nodding her head towards my mask.
“I'm enjoying the mystery of it. Aren’t you?”
“I like to know who I’m talking to, is all,” she replies, before she raises the glass to her lips.
“Would it make you feel better if I removed my mask?” I offer.
“Didn’t you hear? That’s against the rules,” her voice lowers, and I hear the pain through it.
“Oh, I don’t think I received the memo about the rules. Were there any others I should know about?” I tease.
“Let me see,” she says, tapping one of her sharp red nails against her chin in thought. “All the women, as you can see, had to wear black, along with a black wig if they didn’t already have black hair. Everyone had to wear a mask which they aren’t allowed to remove for the entirety of the party. You aren’t allowed to use your real name. So, if you don’t know anyone, you are out of luck,” she tells me.
“Is that all?”
“Yes, I think so,” she says, before she swallows the remainder of her drink.
“So, I can’t give you my name and I can’t remove my mask?” I ask, turning towards her.
“That’s right,” she says, turning to face me too.
Looking her dead in the eye I say, “So is there a rule that says this stranger with a mask on can’t fuck you up against thewall over there?” I gesture with my chin to the side of the bar that’s hidden from view of the party.
Her pupils dilate and she visibly swallows before she answers, “No. There’s no rule against that.”
I want to grab her in my arms right then and there, but I can’t because it’s not part of my plan, so I force myself to stay seated. I laugh lightly, smiling at her which makes her smile in return.
“Another drink?” I ask.
“One more won’t hurt,” she says, so I signal the bartender again. Before I can order two whiskeys again, she speaks and tells him, “Two tequila shots.”
