by Tess Harper
"Yeah, but you've met him since then. Haven't you seen his face then?" Cassie asks.
"No," I let out before I think better of it. My hands slam over my mouth. Shit!
"You've never seen his face?" Dolly squeals.
"It's not like that. I mean, it's always dark and he has it covered."
"Has it covered," Cassie repeats. "How?"
There really isn't a good way to say this. I've totally backed myself into a corner. "He wears a mask," I admit.
Dolly shoots off the couch. "What the hell? Does he think he's a superhero?"
"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no," Cassie raises her hands. "He thinks he's Batman or Superman, doesn't he?"
"He doesn't think he's Batman, and Superman doesn't wear a mask. He just takes off his glasses," I reply.
"But does this masked guy wear glasses?" Cassie asks gravely.
No, he doesn't. My heart pounds. Stop it, Laura. Don't let Cassie's crazy-ass logic get to you! I yell, "He doesn't think he's a superhero!" I mean, at least I don't think he does. I hope he doesn't. Oh shit, this is getting worse.
"So you've been fucking a guy for three months and for the entire time he's worn a mask?" Dolly says.
"Watch your language," Anna whispers but everyone is ignoring her. They're all focused on me.
"I told you guys it was weird."
"Well, you were right," Dolly replies.
"What do you guys talk about--oh wait, you don't talk, do you?" Cassie murmurs. When I don't answer she puts her head in her ands. "Oh God, a mask."
"He doesn't think he's a superhero," I repeat.
"But you wouldn't know, would you, because you don't talk, right?" Cassie says. "He thinks he's a superhero. You're fucking a guy who thinks he's he's a superhero!"
"You two!" Anna says. "God, can't you guys just let this be? She's found someone she likes!"
"And he wears a mask!" Dolly and Cassie respond.
"Well, I think it's kind of romantic," Anna replies, smoothing her skirt.
All of us stare at her mutely for a full minute, including me.
"Why are you looking at me like that!" Anna says, pointing at me. "You're the one who likes him!"
I sigh. "God, this is so messed up."
"Tell me about it," Dolly mutters.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is whether or not you're happy," Anna says. "Are you happy Laura?"
Am I? "I don't know if being with him makes me happy," I say. "That has never really been my question. Or at least it hasn't until recently."
"What do you mean?" Cassie asks gently.
I look out the window behind them. The city never sleeps. It's never completely dark. But our view is probably about as close to complete darkness as you could get. The next building over is an unpopulated mass of brick and shadows.
"I don't talk about myself much," I say. "It took me months before I even told any of you about my mom."
They don't say anything. I never bring it up. They're probably shocked and wondering what's up and where I'm going to take this. I don't even know myself.
"Well, since then I haven't really wanted to get close to someone. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid of losing them, if I have survivor's guilt, or if it's something else. I just...think about it all the time, and I don't want to. I want to forget. I want to be swept up into something that makes me forget about everything about who I am, and he does that for me. I don't know if you can call it happiness, and I don't care if it's happiness or not. It's what I needed."
"Needed, not need?" Cassie whispers.
"Shut up, Cass," Anna whispers back.
"I'm just making an observation--"
"No, Cassie's right," I say. "The closer I get to him, the more of him I want to see. He's become more than that to me, and I don't know what to do, because I think the darkness is what he needs, not me. Otherwise he wouldn't wear a mask."
"Why do you think the darkness is what he needs?" Anna asks softly. "He might just be doing that because he doesn't know how to make things progress with you."
"Yeah, he doesn't want you to know he thinks he's a superhero," Cassie grumbles.
"Cass, shut it!" Anna hits her arm.
"I'm just saying--"
"Shut it!" Anna hits her again.
I grin solemnly. "I don't think that's it. He said once, he didn't want to show me because he didn't think I would love him after I saw his face."
The girls go quiet.
"He might be a burn victim. Or deformed," Anna says softly. "Maybe he's been shunned by everyone and is afraid to show you."
"He could be a criminal," Dolly says. "Maybe he's a wanted man."
"Or in the witness protection program," Cassie says.
"So he walks around with a mask? Like that isn't going to attract attention," Dolly says.
"What's wrong with you?" Anna turns to Dolly. "He might be hurting inside."
"He could also be a creep," Dolly says. "I just don't want her to get hurt, and the best way to keep that from happening is for her to have all the information. As it stands right now, she doesn't even know the guy's name. All she knows about him is that he runs around in a mask. That's not the basis for a healthy relationship."
"Like you'd even know," Anna mutters.
Dolly shoots up. "What the hell did you just say to me?"
"Dolly, settle down," Cassie says, tugging on her shirt as Anna backs up.
"No, I'm not going to settle down until you explain yourself."
Anna looks at the floor. "I just meant that you don't have many long-term relationships."
"Look, I like to screw around, okay? And yes, to answer your next question, I have slept with men whose names I didn't know, and I've slept with men who were probably lying to me. But I enjoy having a good time. My heart isn't in the equation. And, no matter what happens, I respect myself."
"I know. I don't judge you..." Anna babbles.
"Actually it sounds like you do," Dolly interrupts. "And do you know what? That's fine, and Cass is right, we'll deal with it later. But I'm trying to give my friend some good advice about men, and you're sitting here spinning a fairy tale."
Dolly turns to me. "He's hiding something from you. If you were more like me, if you'd been burned before--hell, maybe if you'd had a serious relationship before--this might not be as big of an issue. But this is obviously someone you have something going with, and regardless of what you want, you're getting into it deeper. You can't keep meeting up to sleep with a guy in a mask forever. Sooner or later one of you is going to want more, and so you have to start thinking about what you're going to do when the mask comes off."
Everyone is silent. We all know she's right. It doesn't matter if the issue is something simple like vanity or something so heavy I don't even want to think about it.
"I don't know what I'll do," I whisper as Dolly's face softens. "You guys are right. I'm starting to need him more and more, and this attachment is growing beyond what we have."
"So ask him to take it off," Dolly says.
"I have, and he won't."
"Then you take it off," Dolly says.
Anna glares at her. "That's horrible advice! What if he isn't ready?"
"Then he learns how to man up and get ready," Dolly says. "A week of something like this is hot and kinky. Three months means there's serious problems."
"Anna has a point though," Cassie says. "What if he tries to hurt her if she takes it off? This guy could be unstable."
"Look, stop everyone!" I stand up and start pacing around the chair. I don't want to look at anyone's face. All of this suddenly got too real. Before, it was a fantasy. An indulgence. I knew it was a little weird--alright, a whole lot weird--but I could deal with it. Sort of. I was weird too after all. But thinking about my masked lover attacking me if I took off his mask was frightening.
"We just want you to think things through," Cassie says. "How do you meet up with him?"
He finds me, or sometimes he tells me where to meet i
n a letter.
"We just find each other," I respond lamely. "And I am thinking things through. I just don't know what to do."
Dolly crosses her arms. "You need to take off that mask."
"Dolly!" Anna chastises.
"Dolly's right, but just pinning him down and yanking it off might not be the best idea. You should talk to him," Cassie says.
"They don't talk, they do other things. He's a man of action. Pin him down, take charge and rip that baby off," Dolly says.
I don't think it's possible to blush any harder.
"You guys are embarrassing her," Anna notes.
Thanks Anna. Well, at least everyone knows. Didn't think it was possible to be more pathetic but I guess there's a way, and unsurprisingly Anna was the one to find it.
"We don't mean to embarrass you," Dolly says. "You just need to get to the bottom of this. Whatever secret he's hiding, you deserve to know. You've been together long enough that if he respects you at all he'll tell you."
All of this sounds so reasonable. So right. So why do I feel stupid? Why do I feel like this could never happen?
"Be honest with yourself," Dolly continues. "You want to know, don't you?"
I can't deny it. "I used to not want to know, but you're right, I do."
I exhale and my friends sit patiently, waiting for me to continue.
"I really like him."
My friends look at each other.
"And I'm starting to wonder if I look at him, it isn't me who will have their feelings change, but him."
"You can't think like that," Anna says.
"It's a possibility," Dolly sighs. "But the alternative is living a lie."
It doesn't feel like a lie. It feels like the only way I can be myself. But I don't have the strength to tell that to my friends. Even I didn't understand the depth of my obsession until I started to want to look behind the mask.
I shut my eyes. Maybe I wanted to keep this affair a secret because I didn't want to admit that it was something more. If only I knew, I could grieve privately if it failed.
Cassie gets up and runs her hands over my shoulders. I know its her from her caramel apple shampoo. "Hey, I think it's time to get to bed. We can discuss it more tomorrow."
I nod. That sounds good. The sleeping bit, that is, not the tomorrow bit.
Reluctantly Dolly agrees, and Anna gives me a pitying smile.
I'm suddenly afraid because they know how much I want him. How much I need him. And I can't hid it from myself anymore.
Chapter 16
I don't see him for three days. The day after we met at the club, I received a letter. Well, actually it wasn't even that, just one line: I hope you weren't too cold.
It was ridiculous for him to worry about something like that, especially when I'd been interrogated by friends. He'd never asked me to keep our meetings or his letters secret, but my guess is that he preferred it that way. Now everything was out in the open.
The second morning, when I didn't receive a letter, I wondered if it was because he'd somehow discovered my conversation with my friends. I worried I'd never see him again.
Then I told myself I was being pathetic. Sure, it was strange for him not to try to contact me, but it wasn't like it hadn't happened before and he was never going to reach out to me.
But the next day, when I still didn't see anything, I started to panic--and no matter how many times I told myself I was being needy and pathetic, that I was stronger than this, that no woman should never make a man the center of her life and happiness--I couldn't banish that horrible, nauseating sensation in the bottom of my stomach.
I'm curled up in a fetal position on my side in my bed. My blankets are a mess, curled around my legs. I'm cold with just a sheet over my shoulders but I don't want to move, even if it's just to cover myself. A part of me needs to remain still and count my breaths.
Pathetic. Have you no respect? Look at you.
I ignore that voice and wrap my arms around my stomach. I'm trying to hug away all these horrible feelings when my bedroom window slides open.
I don't think it's possible, but I become even more still. The man lowers his feet to the floor.
I recognize his shoes. His silent movements. That impenetrable black mask.
I squeeze my thighs together as he steps closer.
He's here. Why is he here? Say something!
Something I don't completely understand stops me. I'm as afraid to speak as I'd been to move just a few moments before. I close my eyes.
The bottom of the bed sinks. He drags his knee over the blankets. They creep up the backs of my thighs as he moves over me.
His fingers brush my shoulder as he pulls down my sheet. I try not to tremble. I don't know if I succeed or not. My heart is beating so loud it's hard for me to even tell if I'm moving or not.
I press my thighs together as his hand moves down my body. My breath catches as he slides his hand in between my legs. I feel myself blushing. My panties are already soaked.
"How much longer are you going to pretend to be asleep?" He whispers against my neck.
My mind is blank. "Um...I just woke up."
"You've been awake since I got here."
My heart beats faster as the ache between my legs grows. How the hell does he know that? "No I haven't."
"You shouldn't lie, solnyshko moyo."
That's probably not a bad idea. Lying never seems to go well for me.
His hand skims over my hips. His fingers catch in the hem of my slip, and it moves with him, exposing more skin. "What are you thinking?"
I shudder.
He rolls me onto my back and plants an elbow by my ear. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No." I don't recognize my voice. Perhaps he doesn't either.
He slides in between my thighs. "You sure?"
My knees bend around him. I wrap them around his waist. He groans.
God yes I'm sure. So why do I feel like I'm forgetting something. "Uh..."
He stops immediately, waiting for permission. What's wrong with me? I look up at his masked face, searching for a name.
That's right. I don't know his name. I don't know anything about him.
"Laura?"
The conversation I had with my friends a few days ago flashes in my mind. Am I content with this? I know I'm not. It's everything I've ever wanted, and yet it isn't enough. Not anymore.
"Laura?" His voice is strained. My legs close around him automatically and he groans again. If I don't say anything now, I won't be able to. I'll slip into that pleasure that only he can give me. I'll be consumed by it. Now is my chance.
"Uh...what's your name?"
His hand trails from my stomach to my knee. I can feel the outline of his lips as he kisses my collarbone. I moan.
"You're asking for my name? That must mean I'm not doing a good enough job."
He slips the hand beneath me, sliding my panties to the side, running his fingers up and down my slit. I tighten everywhere.
No. You're doing a good job. A little too good. I frown, straining to think. "Why won't you tell me?"
"Still asking about that?"
"Please, I..." His fingers find my center. He pushes them in, and my muscles clench around him, trying to hold him in as he slips out. Anticipation consumes me as his fingers continue to tease. They aren't nearly wide enough. I want to feel his cock spreading me, splitting me open, filling me with white-hot, agonizing pleasure.
"That's more like it, solnyshko moyo. Let yourself go."
My left hand fists my pillow. My right the bed sheet. I want him so bad that I want to scream.
He places a hand over my mouth as I part my lips. "Shhh. Your friends are sleeping."
My tongue flicks against his skin as my vision blurs. I know I should care, that I should go a little slower, or at least close my mouth, but I want him so bad I don't even care. My hips arch towards his.
"Not yet," he says.
Why the hell not? I shoot him a glare and he chuc
kles.
"I want to take my time with you. I want to see your face as I feel you unravel."
"I want to see you too," I whisper. Just before my eyes close I watch him shake his head. He removes his fingers and, with agonizing slowness, moves them to my clit. I close my legs around his hand, trying to lock it still with my thighs as he continues to rub against me faster but still not fast enough.
He moves his hand away, probably to get at his jeans. My mind is foggy, but slowly I remember what I'd previously wanted. "Let me see you face," I repeat.
"No Laura."
I move my hands to his shoulders.
He grabs them. "No." He doesn't sound angry. He doesn't seem angry. So why is he stopping me?
"Why?" I ask.
"I told you--"
"I don't care what you look like!"
"You will when you see me."
"Why? Are you a fugitive?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
He pins my hands above my head. I strain against him for a second, but only half-heartedly try to break free. I can see the outline of his muscles through his shirt. He isn't even flexing. Isn't even trying. That's how easy it is to restrain me.
He lets go with one hand. Brings the other down my side, down my stomach.
My back arches as I gasp, lungs filling with cold air. My nipples hit his shirt. It's rougher than I'd expected, or maybe I'm just suddenly overly sensitive. I hear him breathing heavily. His lips must be parted. He must want to take me in his mouth, but he doesn't.
You know what? Fuck it. I don't care if I never see his face.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him down to me. I want to move my hands, but I can't, so I arch up and bite at his neck, trying to fill my senses with him.
"Laura?"
His erection hits my lower stomach. It's so hard that it's painful for me to imagine it entering me. Still, he doesn't try to move and I'm angry with him for stopping.
"Laura..."
He's still waiting for permission. I rock my hips and the head of his cock hits my clit. "I want you."
He looks down at me, and I shiver from the intensity behind his mask. He looks like a demon. Maybe he'd disappear if unmasked. Maybe my horror waits for me behind that mask--a face I would instinctively hate. But I don't care who he is, not when he touches me like this. I'm overcome by sensation. He floods me, devouring my protests, and I can't help but be taken, again and again by him, begging for more, my pleasure heightened by this strange, frightening intimacy.
