Authors: Jack Wallen
“
One dance with her and then you must leave. Do
not
take off that mask or I cannot promise your safety.”
I turned to Timely, smiled, and mouthed
Thank you
. She stepped back and gestured toward Babbette.
I spun on my heels to nearly have my breath stolen by the beauty before me. As crazy as it may seem, I expected tears to fall from my eyes and shine the floor at my feet.
The smile that spread across my cheeks was infectious. When Babbette returned the smile, it nearly dropped me to my knees. She held up her hands and nodded. I stepped in and wrapped my arms around her waist.
The second our bodies met, the music changed. Gone was the charm and wistfulness of the string quartet; in its place was the sensual rhythm of Broods’ song
Never Gonna Change
. The sexuality of the song was not, in the slightest, misplaced as Babbette’s scent filled my lungs with life. A mixture of vanilla and powder – exactly how I expected a beautiful girl to smell. I wanted to bathe in it, let it work its way into my flesh.
She spun me around and sung the words of the song into my ear. Her voice was almost too much beauty to bear.
“
I’m glad you came,” whispered Babbette, as we again turned to the tune.
“
Me too,” I replied.
Somehow, the music brought my body to life and I moved with a grace I’d never known. The room spun as a delirium took hold of my senses.
“
I thought you couldn’t dance?” Babbette asked.
She was right…I couldn’t. But somehow, either the music or Babbette’s spell had my body moving like I was a peddler of desire and delight. My legs and arms felt as if they were one with the air around me.
“
It’s dangerous for you here.”
“
So I’ve been told. You’re worth it.”
At my words, Babbette pulled me in closer. As we spun around, I caught a glimpse of Timely looking on. Concern lined her face.
“
What is the celebration for?”
Babbette giggled. The sound was a music I had never before experienced; a delicate dance of glass bells and birdsong.
“
My birthday,” whispered Babbette.
I pulled back and looked into her golden eyes.
“
That’s…oh my…happy birthday! I feel bad that I didn’t know.”
“
How would you, Scott,” she laughed, “we’ve only known each other a very short time. Besides, this celebration is irrelevant.”
I stepped back within breathing distance and whispered into Babbette’s ear, “Nothing is irrelevant where you’re concerned.” We turned again to the music. “
How old are you?”
Babbette blinked, tilted her head, and finally leaned in to whisper. “Never ask a girl her age.”
The music swelled and I haphazardly spun Babbette around. She released another round of intoxicating laughter before I pulled her back into me.
“
I like you, Babbette,” I said.
“
I like you too, Scott,” she whispered softly into my ear. “But I’m not sure my father would approve of this.”
“
We’re just dancing,” I replied.
“
For now, yes. But what is to come when the music ends? It is that which father will not bless. He is a very powerful man within our community. Should he not approve of you, bad things could come of it.”
I started to protest. Babette stopped me with a finger to my lips. Just as she was about to continue, we heard Timely’s voice rise over the music.
“
Leave them alone, Skorsdan.”
Babette immediately tensed.
“
Out of my way, Timely. I won’t hesitate to forcibly remove you from my path.”
When she heard the voice, Babbette stopped moving and stared deep into the wells of my eyes.
“
You must leave…now.”
“
I don’t understand,” I replied.
“
Babbette,” the male voice called out.
“
Please Scott, if you ever want to see me again, you must go now.”
“
Why should I…”
Before the question was finished, Babbette tugged at my arm. “Follow me.”
We sped off, away from the dance floor and through the crowd. Revelers parted with reverence as Babbette gracefully moved through the room, her feet hardly seeming to touch the marble tiles.
“
Babbette,” I called out. Her only reply was to cast a glance over her shoulder and place a finger to her lips. There was nothing for me to do but follow in silence. Babbette continued forward at a pace I could barely keep. The grip she had on my hand was unnatural for a teenage girl.
“
This way,” Babbette’s voice was a mere whisper. The noise from the crowd fell off until the only sounds were our footfalls and the rustle of Babbette’s dress.
Finally, she stopped at a door, opened it, and pulled me in. Once within the confines of the room, Babbette gently closed the door shut, turned to me, and released a sigh and a laugh.
“
That was exhilarating,” she said through her breath.
The room was a strange mixture of youth and age – like someone too young pretending to be someone too old. An enormous, four-poster bed, draped in black and white sheer fabric, clearly indicated we were in…
“
My bedroom,” Babbette seemed to read my mind.
I swallowed…hard. This was only the second bedroom I’d been in that didn’t stink of teenage boy – the first being Sally’s. All of a sudden, my heart leaped into my throat and threatened to make a daring escape.
Babbette stepped in close to me…very close. “Did you really mean what you said as we danced?”
My brain raced back to my first-ever public dance recital. I couldn’t remember what I’d said. The lump in my throat was quickly devolving into shame. The idea that I could forget a single second spent with this personification of perfection was beyond me.
Babette wrapped her arms around my neck. “Do you really like me, Scott Maskey?”
And there it was. Salvation.
“
Yes, very much.”
My reply was greeted with a smile to launch a thousand ships. It was all I could do to keep my legs from buckling. Before they did collapse, I whispered “Take off your mask.”
Babbette’s eyes widened and her smile faded. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like disappointment washed across her face. I sucked in a breath in order to offer up an apology – for what, I wasn’t sure. Before I could voice the words, Babbette pulled me into a kiss.
So much assaulted me in that moment. Mostly I felt as if I had been electrocuted by the soul of life itself. Underneath that inescapable condition, a memory bubbled up to the surface. I was thirteen years old. Mom and dad had been in a fight – one of their ‘big’ ones. I sat out on the porch alone, as the shouts were exchanged. Finally, Dad walked through the door and out into the night air. He sat beside me on the stone stairs and placed an arm around me.
“
Is it worth it, Dad?” I asked.
In his usual fashion, Dad laughed. Never one to face adversity without a smile, my dad somehow managed to remain positive, no matter the circumstances. He finally looked to me and said, “Scott, the first time you kiss a woman, really kiss a woman – nearly lose yourself in her lips – you’ll know the answer to that question. Until that moment, you’ll always wonder.”
The memory faded away and was replaced by the sweetest taste to ever cross my lips. Orange and cinnamon, peace and joy – if peace and joy could have flavor. Then and there, I understood my father. The understanding wasn’t just an acceptance of his words and meaning – this was a profound, life-changing understanding. It was the acceptance of a new reality that allowed me to dive fully into this kiss of kisses.
The first of, hopefully, many.
The synapses of my nerves were on fire. Everything around me was alight with possibility and desire. My skin tingled; my hair danced on my scalp and arms, and my breath was knocked from my lungs by teen-revved hormones.
When Babbette finally pulled away, I thought for sure the world would end. Like a junkie refused his fix, like a dying man having his life support pulled, there was no way I’d survive without being permanently attached to Babbette’s lips.
I opened my eyes to see her looking back. Thankfully the smile that crossed her lips mirrored the one etched on my heart.
Babbette opened her mouth to speak and the door to the room crashed open.
A tall, lanky male stood, arms at his sides, hands tightly balled in fists.
“
Skorsdan,” Babbette hissed. “You may not enter my room uninvited.”
He waved Babbette’s command off and stepped into the room.
“
Did you not hear me, Skorsdan?”
“
Yes, mistress Gaultier, I did hear you. Thing is, I don’t care. I just want to know who this cracking fellow is.” The tall man slid up close to me. His hair was pure white and stood, stick straight, in a Billy Idol’s rebel yell sort of way. His legs were impossibly long and his breath smelled of salted meat.
“
Skorsdan, I will only tell you one time. Please leave my room.”
He stopped his cat and mouse walk around me and jerked his head toward Babbette. “
And I will only respond to your demand once…make me.”
Skorsdan (I assumed that was his name, not a title or epithet) finally turned his focus toward me. “
What, exactly, are you doing here human? You have as much business with our kind as we of you. So why don’t you politely putter off before I forcibly remove you?”
I nervously coughed to clear my throat before I said, “I was invited, so I believe that means I am welcome here.”
I stepped over to Babbette and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“
Let me guess, the lady of the hour extended the invitation? Well, good sir, although she may be the princess du jour, she has no right to invite the likes of you into our world. Now…be gone!”
The ear-splitting roar from Skorsdan’s throat nearly melted my bones. My instincts begged me to run. My heart, however, insisted my feet remain planted.
Skorsdan let loose a deep, slow laugh. “So, not all of you are cowards. I like that.” He approached me, cracking his fingers against one another. “You might be a challenge worthy of me.”
“
I don’t understand,” I said. Fear clearly registered in my voice, like a second puberty was about to strike me down.
Just as Skorsdan was about to explain, the door flung open to reveal Timely, a strange glow surrounding her hands.
“
Get out,” Timely growled.
Skorsdan released another laugh and turned to face Timely. “
Well now, it looks like Timely wants to play a little rough. I like this side of you.”
Timely raised her right arm and pointed her open hand toward Skorsdan. “
Scott,” Timely’s voice was a menacing whisper, “I think you should go…now.”
There was no argument from Babbette. Skorsdan replied with an insulting slow clap and then said, “You cannot hide from me forever, human. I’ll find you and when I do, the last thing you’ll ever see is my victorious grin. I will conquer you; I will own you.”
I looked to Babbette; tears raced down her cheeks. She very gently nodded and closed her eyes.
Nothing could be said. There were two clear choices: Leave and hopefully make it home intact, or stay and most likely die hoping to get one more kiss. I opted to think with my brain and go. Before walking out, I turned to Babbette and spoke with as steady a voice as I could muster. “
I want to see you again.”
Babbette remained staring at the ground, but whispered…“
You will.”
Without another word or glance back, I walked out of the room.
As I sped down the hall, I had to fight back tears. There was no way I’d let anyone see through my mask of solitude and strength.
“
I am an island,” I repeated in a breathy whisper until I found myself in a dark hallway, unsure of where I was. Lost, in a house of tricks and traps. Although everything appeared normal, the dungeon-esque sound and smell of the dark passageway immediately brought back memories of the haunted mansion. But even the memories of the haunt couldn’t match the manic look in Skorsdan’s eyes.
“
If I were an exit,” I whispered.
Thankfully, there was no reply.
There was, however, a doorway standing sentinel at the end of the hall. It beckoned me, begged me to take comfort in its passage. I stepped in close to the door and carefully placed a hand on the knob. Nothing jumped out, dropped down, popped up, or threatened to steal my soul.
No sound, no light spilled from the other side.