The Masquerade
so close. Tilting my head, I smiled by way of saying ‘hi.’ Her vanilla scent had assaulted my nose and robbed me of my voice. I wanted to bury my face into her chest and breathe her in.
    “You eighteen? Mind getti ng me a cosmopolitan?” She leant in—right under my chin—and whispered into my ear, “Nasty Pants there might not serve a fifteen-year-old.”
    I gulped, thinking cock block .
    In the end, I ordered. The red drink came in a cocktail glass garnished with sugar along the rim. Genevieve darted her tongue along it. I looked away.
    “… Rick?”
    I returned her gaze, piercing grey-blue irises shadowed by dark make-up under her mask. “What?” I said, not catching the start.
    She grabbed my mask and flipped it up, peering along my nose up to my eyes. Sharp nails dug into my forehead. I suppressed a groan, imagining other places and those same nails.
    “Oh, sorry,” she sai d and sat back. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I asked if that was you, Rick.” She beamed. “It is.”
    “Yes. Hi, Genevieve.”
    I mashed my lips together and clenched my jaw at my stupidity. Yes. Hi, Genevieve, I thought, mocking myself.
    “It’s just Vee. Everyone calls me that. You can, too.” At long last, she sipped her drink, smiling into it. I hoped the smile wasn’t for the drink, but even if so, my insides twisted together at the thought of something I bought her made her that happy.
    “Vee it is.”
    “Oh , and also …” She plunged her hand into the side of the top and reached … her breasts? Christ . I gulped down half my whiskey, relishing the burn at the back of my throat. It was hard and palpable, something I could absorb.
    S he tapped my arm with the back of her hand. In it, she clutched a ten-dollar note. I raised an eyebrow.
    “For that.” She flapped the note at her drink.
    “No, keep it. I bought it for you.”
    “No way. Please,” she said and flapped it at me.
    “Vee, it’s a gift. Accept it. Don’t give it back.”
    Something in my words halted her. I wasn’t sure what it was, but she deliberated, holding the note to her breast. Oh, fuck this . I grabbed my glass and took care of the rest.
    With her money tucked back inside, she glanced at the empty drink and back to hers, then swallowed the whole thing. Empty, she slapped the cocktail on the bar and cringed, thrashing her head.
    “Nasty ?” I teased.
    “No. Strong. Very strong.”
    Before I could say anything else, a girl stumbled into Vee, tipping her glass onto her shoulder. She mumbled something that sounded like sorry as she stumbled off in a different direction, all of which passed in an instant.
    “Yuck!” Vee cried and pulled her long hair over the opposite, clean shoulder.
    I patted down her shoulder and asked, “Where did she get you?”
    “Just there,” Vee said as the pads of my fingers moved across her shoulder and pushed beneath the lace trimming at her back.
    “Hold on.” I grabbed a wad of napkins. She stood statuesquely, the portrait of sheer beauty poised with her hair swept over her farthest shoulder, her neck tilted away, exposing her creamy neck. I blinked and swallowed hard, wanting to lick her clean with my tongue. I leant into her and inhaled. The shoulder smelt of lemonade, thankfully, and not cola or something as pungent.
    Vee’s back faced my chest, so she couldn’t see the way I gazed longingly down her dress at the shape of her hips. Taking advantage of her position, I looked down the delicate curve of her shoulder. I grazed my teeth along my lip, witnessing her breasts rise and fall rapidly. I wished her heightened state of arousal was for me, yet my heavy heart reminded me it was due to the shock of the spill.
    “Err, Rick?”
    “Yes?” I rasped.
    “Are you going to use those napkins or should I?”
    I didn’t reply but mopped up her shoulder. I dabbed around to her back and lifted the lace to swipe there, too. “Good as new. I think it was only lemonade, so your dress shouldn’t

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