I carried my new insights into college and had great success with various masks with teachers as well as fellow students. I knew I had perfected my Daddy’s Little Girl mask when I was bent over my Russian Lit professor’s desk, his hand on my hips, after I had gotten an A minus on the midterm paper that, well, let’s just say it wasn’t my best piece of work. The conference we had later engaged in, however, was a good piece.
I did a semester abroad, studying in Italy for several months, and my mask studies took a leap forward. I was in Venice for carnival, a festival of masks. I was running through the tight streets, the crowds thick and full of cheer. I was wearing a mask, two actually. One was my Wide Eyed American College Girl, and the other was an actual, three-quarter face mask of a lamb. Fresh for the slaughter.
At a street party, I had struck up a conversation with an owl mask. He spoke a good deal of English, with a rich accent. He was a university student as well. I kept him close, teasing, almost-kisses and blushing touches. He kept me filled with wine, and I paid for it with vague promises. As the evening wore on, I took off, heading away from the campo square we had been in all night, heading toward one of the small streets. He followed. I moved swiftly through the crowds.
The street twisted and turned and then, almost suddenly, it opened into a small, dimly lit courtyard. No one was there; it was silent. I pressed myself against the wall nearest the entrance I had come in and waited. In a few seconds, he stumbled into the courtyard and moved past me. I whispered hey, and he stopped. I stayed against the wall, and he came to me. I moved to pull my mask off, and he stopped me, put it back in place and then, he kissed me.
The masks, although a little intrusive, made the moment incredibly sexy. We tore at each other. He pulled my skirts up and yanked my panties off. He lifted me and pushed me against the wall. I wasn’t quite ready, but the pain gave way to pure, mind-blowing pleasure. He took me hard against the wall. Our breath melding, our tongues finding each other’s.
At one moment, a small group of revelers moved into the courtyard. We stopped our actions, but they saw us. They all shouted, Bene! and moved on singing, cheering, laughing. He didn’t miss a beat. The mask, the anonymity, made it so much sexier. When we were done, when he had released, and I screamed, it echoed around the brick courtyard and flooded out into the canals. He let me down to the ground, kissed me and then, we went our separate ways. Masks on.
When I graduated and moved into the city, started working, I learned a new mask lesson. The putting on of the mask was just as sexy as wearing it.
***
I had been on a few dates with Alan. I liked him. I wore a serious, businesswoman mask and a free-spirited, woman of the world mask with him as well. The first was to make sure he took me seriously, and the second was to let him know I was worth respecting. One night, we were going to dinner, meeting some people, and I was running late. He was there, in my apartment, as I was getting ready. I had dressed and was going to put on my makeup. I called to him from the bedroom, letting him know my progress, that I had my clothes on, and just needed the make-up.
“Can I watch,” he asked and I was surprised. We hadn’t had sex yet. Some heavy make out sessions, but no sex. I didn’t know what he meant.
“Nothing to watch, dear,” I said from the bedroom. “I’m already dressed.”
“No,” he said, stepping into the bedroom. “Can I watch you put on your mask.” He stood in the bathroom doorway as I put on my makeup. At first, it was odd, a little unsettling. He had figured something out about me that I wasn’t sure I was ready to reveal. As I moved through my routine, I kept checking in with him. I noticed he was truly enjoying the process and so, it became a show. The donning of the mask had a power that I didn’t quite realize. When I picked my lipstick and moved to apply it, he sighed.
“Slowly,” he said. I locked eyes with him in the mirror, put the color to my lips and slowly, carefully, outlined my lips. He smiled and nodded. When I was done, I stood and turned to him.
“Perfect,” he whispered. We had a good night. He came back to my place that evening, and we had some incredible sex. That night and the following morning.
Another lesson. I woke and showered. I stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and he was in the bed, sitting up.
“Let me just dress and then, the bathroom is all yours,” I told him.
“Can I watch,” he asked and I let the towel drop. I did a slow, purposeful, reverse strip tease for him, and as I dressed, I saw him make a little tent in the sheets. When I was fully clothed, he was fully ready. I pulled the covers aside to kiss his little tent, and as he released, I thought of the power of the Full-Body mask.
***
“Was it then you started collecting masks?”
No, I started collecting...
***
My brother collected comic books. I collected masks. I started in high school. Senior year I had brought the first one back from Venice. I added to the collection after spring dance. Tommy Wilkes. He saw the Good Girl College Bound Studious Nerd mask. He was so sweet and shy when he asked me to the dance. He was very proper and polite when he met my parents.
After the dance, after we had gone to the restaurant with everyone else and I said I wasn’t ready to go home quite yet. Oh, dear. The look in his eyes when I put on the Naughty Girl mask and straddled him by the lake in the back seat of his daddy’s car. I thought he was going to lose his mind. That was part of the collection.
***
“Just one mask in high school, then?”
***
No. There was the owl in Venice and Adam Brean, my prom date. He saw the I Don’t Give a Damn about Anything But Tonight mask. I think he was a little overwhelmed. I had a reputation by then. Whispered rumors that I was willing to go all the way. Silly stuff. Anyway, he asked me. We went. I had permission to stay out all night.
After the prom and the party, we changed, and several of us drove a few hours to the beach. We built a big fire, drank, sang, the usual stuff. He and I walked down the beach and dropped into the sand and made out. I let him feel me up a little, but gave him a bit of a struggle. Then, I put on the shocked, He Tried to Rape Me mask and ran away from him. Ran back to the fire. Begged for help. A few of the other guys found Adam and beat him up. Not badly. Just enough.
Then, the next day, I went to see him at his parent's house. He was alone; his parents were away for a week. I put on the I’m So Sorry, I Feel So Terrible mask. Told him I didn’t know what happened. Felt so bad for the way I acted. Must have been the drinking, you know, that whole thing. I made it up to him. Screwed him in his parent's bed for hours. He was confused the entire time, waiting for me to turn, to put on a different mask. That was a part of the collection.
***
“And in college?”
Just the seven. I told you about those, already, right.
“What about recently, after Alan Briggs?”
***
I ran into Cassie at the art museum. She recognized me first. Told me she recognized me by my eyes. I was standing in the new Hopper exhibit. I love Hopper. All his women seem so deep, so distant. They all look like they understand masks. Anyway, I was looking at this piece, Chop Suey was the title of it, and she was there beside me.
“Hello, Eliza,” she said and I was a little perplexed. No one who knows me now calls me Eliza. I am strictly Elizabeth. I said hello and she smiled and it came back. She looked good. She was always pretty, but back then, at camp, she had a tomboy quality to her that put an edge to her beauty. She had since shed that side, and she was just... gorgeous. We hugged, caught up and spent the rest of the day walking through the museum together.
“They have a mask room here, you know,” she told me and we laughed. We parted and made plans to meet later in the week for lunch. I was eager to tell her all I had learned about the wonderful world of masks. We had lunch that same week, drinks the following week and then, the week after, she called me at about ten in the evening. She
had been on a date, a guy she liked, but it had gone badly.
“I got my masks all confused,” she said to me when I let her into my apartment about twenty minutes later. I opened a bottle of wine, and we sat on my couch and talked about the date. He was someone she really liked. That was always a problem, when you fell for them, when you didn’t keep that one foot on the floor, one eye in the mirror. So, she has fallen, and she had gotten her masks mixed up, and he got confused and he told her he didn’t think they should see each other anymore. I felt bad for her. She was a mess. We drank and talked. By the time the first bottle of wine was done, she seemed to have relaxed and we had discussed a plan for her to call him the next day, talk to him, and be honest with him.
“Drop the mask completely,” I told her. “Go at this naked and honest.” We agreed that, though scary, it was the best way to approach the situation. She relaxed more, and I opened the second bottle of wine.
“So,” she said after another glass. “What have you learned?” I took her glass, put it on the coffee table, took her face in my hands, and I kissed her. She didn’t resist. She gave over, and the kiss brought back such memories. Such good, strong memories.
“I’ve wanted to do that again since that summer so long ago,” I told her and she said she did too. I took her to the bedroom and undressed her, slowly. Her body was beautiful. Her skin was soft and warm. I kissed her, all over her body. Then, she undressed me. Her hands were so sure. I got excited almost immediately.
When we were both naked, both vulnerable, we got on the bed and explored each other. She touched me, and I lost my mind in about two seconds. Then, she let me taste myself. I kissed down her body. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I put on the Girl Who So Wants to Experiment mask and... All was right with the world.
We made love all night long. She stayed. We showered together in the morning. We were a little awkward while we had coffee, but it was sweet. She was sweet. She was a good lover. That was definitely part of the collection.
***
“Is that all?”
Yes. That’s all. That’s the collection.
“Elizabeth, there are eleven masks in the room.”
So?
“So, you’ve told me only about ten people.”
Well, doctor...
“Special Agent.”
“Sorry, my mistake, Special Agent. Are you trying to accuse me of something?” I slipped out of my chair and crossed to him, sat next to him. Ran my hand over his thigh. Told him I was just a confused, lost little girl. I had no idea what was happening to me. Told him that, if he sent all the other officers away, I’d make him very happy.
“Ten bodies, Elizabeth,” he said taking my hand off his leg and putting it in my lap. “Eleven masks. Something you’re not telling me.” I leaned in and whispered to him, my lips touching his ear.
There’s always room for one more...
***
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