Scarlet Masquerade (20 page)

“I have mine in the car. It isn’t quite as grand as yours, but I’m sure it will do for the evening.” Selene opened the door for A.J. and climbed into the back seat facing her.

“Have you set everything up at the ball?” A.J. questioned Selene. The lights of the city flashed by as they got closer to a night A.J. hoped would be one that fantasies were made of.

“Yep. But how are you going to tell her? I mean it’s been a long time, A.J., and from what you told me she doesn’t even know you’re alive, let alone here.”

A.J. nervously rubbed her lips with her gloved hand. Selene was right. How was she going to approach Clarissa? She had thought about it over and over again and the same scenario came up, rejection. Clarissa probably thought A.J. was the same person Clarissa had known when she died, or didn’t die but was changed. She didn’t know what De Marcus had said to poison Clarissa against A.J. so she was going into this blind. A.J. tried to relax. Hopefully the large donation to the ball would be the starting point she needed to talk to Clarissa in private. From there she would slowly reveal herself to Clarissa. It might take days if things didn’t go well tonight, but she was sure Clarissa would want to find out about the elusive A.J. Lockwood.

Clarissa fidgeted one last time with her dress, smoothing out a crease. She had waited for this night all semester, and it was finally here. The Renaissance Masquerade Ball took a year to plan and had grown into quite a fundraiser for the university. As it grew, so did its popularity with the community and the university. Each department dean and administrator attended. Originally, she had started it as a way for the students to learn about Renaissance life. Each student picked their favorite writer, sculptor, noble or someone who lived during that time and dressed appropriately. Now, it was a full-fledged dance, with a band, food and the opportunity to masquerade accordingly. It seemed that most people liked the anonymity the masquerade afforded them. She often found herself wondering who was with whom, only to find out later someone had a scandalous rendezvous that evening and no one suspected. She worried that the President might cancel each time someone was outed after the event. He made it a point to tell her what a great time he had and how he looked forward to the next year.

Making one last pass through the ballroom, she felt her excitement heighten at the coming night’s events. She rarely had a date for the event, finding it too cumbersome to host and be someone’s dance partner also. The energy in the room was electrifying. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt as if she was ready to vibrate out of her skin. The tingling she felt could only be described as, sexual, watching the guests begin to arrive. Tonight’s ball included some of the most charitable donors the event had seen to date. Donors had the option of entertaining in a separate room, reserved just for them, or mingling with everyone else. The invitation made it clear. A mask was optional, but almost every guest opted for a mask of some sort. Quite a few of the women made it a point to try and outdo each other’s mask. Eventually, they would be preening like birds, each greeting the other in the finest feathery, sequins and velvet she could afford. The men were not to be outdone at this event, either. The event had its fair share of Kings, musketeers, noble men and the occasional crusader. There was so much velvet and brocade stretched across hefty thighs, she was surprised a fire or two hadn’t started with the rubbing that took place as the men walked.

She assigned the students their tasks for the evening, and she made one last round along the perimeter of the dance floor. The guests were arriving at a steady pace and making the several bars, strategically placed in the ballroom, their first stop. A few maids and peasants had started dancing with the nobility standing and watching the entertainment.

“Clarissa, the ballroom looks wonderful, as usual,” said a regal looking gentleman.

“Why thank you, Dean Marsh. I am glad you approve. And you are looking very regal this evening. Is that a new crown?” Clarissa tried not to sound too patronizing to her boss.

“Why it’s nice of you to notice. My wife bought it on that bidding website. She said I needed something new to wear this time.” He pulled at the lapels of his coat. “She got this as well. How do you like it?”

“Hmm. Blue suits you. It is definitely your color.” Clarissa smiled making a show of admiring his rather large expanse of a jacket.

“Well, if you will excuse me, Dean. I see one of the donors over there and I would like to thank them for attending and for their contribution. Have a wonderful evening and please give your wife my best, won’t you?”

“I will. Hurry off now and make sure that generous donor knows how much we appreciate his support,” Dean Marsh said, making a motion of shooing her away.

Clarissa hesitated for a moment wanting to correct Dean Marsh, but rethought her decision. He wouldn’t care whether the head of Knight-Pharmaceutical was a man or a woman, just as long as they kept donating to the university.

“I’ll do my best,” Clarissa said, walking towards the door.

Clarissa made it to the archway of the hall and she felt herself suddenly become lightheaded. Not wanting to make a scene, she retreated to a dark portion of the hall to conceal herself. Her skin tingled and she felt the hair on her neck straighten as she sat in a brocade chair under the stairs. Assessing herself, she realized she didn’t feel sick. Just the opposite, she felt as though a lover had caressed her, softly, alongside her neck. Her chest tightened as she felt the sensation again. This time, a stroke ran along her breasts. Her nipples tightened against the brocade fabric. She had opted not to wear a bra tonight, due to the tight fit of her dress. The bustier that was sewn in was more than enough support, but now she wished she had opted for one more layer of fabric to cover her quickly hardening nipples. Sitting straighter, she arched her back in hopes of alleviating some of the tightness in her chest. It only added to the pressure on her already sensitive nipples. A deep breath, followed by another, and she stood hoping to regain her composure. She needed to be alert and fully functioning tonight, but this was more than she needed. Standing, another sensation rippled through her. Now she couldn’t tell if she was over-stimulated from the excitement of the evening, or if it was something else. She was starting to feel like she did when she left the bar weeks ago and that wasn’t good.
No, it has to be all the excitement,
she told herself,
it is all that pent-up excitement and energy that comes with this event, she reasoned.

Slowly, she forced herself to relax and focus on what needed to be done and that was greeting the arriving guests. The night was early and she had lots of work to do before she could fully relax. Entering the entryway of the ballroom, she felt the soft caress against her check again. Looking around, she tried to see if she recognized anyone. Anyone like her, but she didn’t see a familiar face. Not that she would have been able to, with all the feathers and masks adorning the guests.

“Good evening, President Woods. Thank you for coming.” Clarissa smiled demurely, bowing her head slightly.

“How did you know it was me, Clarissa?” President Woods shook the offered hand firmly, before introducing his partner. “My wife, Shirley.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Woods. Well, sir, you are a rather tall man, and it would be hard to miss you, even with your mask.” Clarissa smiled and swept her hand towards the ballroom.

“Enjoy your evening, sir.” Turning towards his wife, Clarissa spoke softly, “you better watch out for him, Mrs. Woods. He looks rather dashing tonight.” Clarissa winked, shaking her hand.

Clarissa stood there for a few moments more, realizing there would be no way for her to know who the donors were with their masks on. So, she made her way to the donor’s private room. There, she would be able to thank them personally and introduce herself to any new donors who might be attending. She had stashed the gift she purchased for Ms. Lockwood behind the bar, hoping she would have a private moment to give it to the woman. She could hardly contain her excitement at the thought of finally being able to meet her benefactor. She had to remind herself that Ms. Lockwood was a professional and not someone to be gushed over. Now Carol, Clarissa knew, would gush all over the woman, making a scene that would take a lot of apologizing on Clarissa’s behalf to fix. No, Clarissa would handle Ms. Lockwood privately.

Entering the room, she looked around and found no one. As she turned, something caught her eye on the marble table by the window. A rose. That hadn’t been there when she set the room up earlier. Walking over, she noticed a card laying across it, addressed to her. Picking up the card, she felt a soft breath caress her neck. Turning, she anticipated seeing someone behind her, but there was no one. Returning to the card, she gently spread the flap open and the delicate scent of perfume drifted from inside the envelope. The fragrance was familiar and yet it wasn’t. Slowly, she pulled the card free from the envelope, its face blank. Opening it, the recognizable ink of a fountain pen wrote a simple note in French. Without a second thought, Clarissa read the French easily. Something she hadn’t done in decades:

Clarissa,

Votre beauté est davantage que les seuls mots peuvent exprimer. J’espère que vous accepterez cette rose simple comme expression de mon intérêt en finissant par vous connaître.

Respect

Clarissa,

Your beauty is more than mere words can express. I hope you will accept this simple rose as an expression of my interest in getting to know you.

Regards,

Clarissa turned the card around to see if it had a signature, but there wasn’t one. Looking at the writing, she felt a vague prick of recognition, but couldn’t place it.

Clarissa picked up the rose and inhaled its heady aroma, looking around once more to see if anyone lingered in the room. Clarissa closed her eyes, caressing her lips with the rose, and breathed in the soft floral scent. Her eyes popped open, and she looked down at the rose. It wasn’t just any rose from a flower shop. This rose was one of her favorites found only in France when she was a child. The
Alba semi Plana
, a white rose with large petals had been in France since the sixteenth century.
Coincidence
, thought Clarissa as she remembered picking the beautiful flower for her mother when she walked in their garden. She had cherished those moments with her mother, and realized she missed her. Remembering wasn’t a good thing. Not now, not when she had so much to do tonight. Who would have known this was her favorite rose? It had to be a coincidence. No one knew her favorite flowers, and she never got that close to anyone anymore. Clarissa took a sharp breath as she remembered seeing the same rose in the stained glass feature at Knight-Pharmaceutical. Lately, her life had been a series of coincidences, and she didn’t like it. But right now she couldn’t think about it all. She had a job to do and then she would try and put an order to those coincidences. As she looked around the room one more time she felt the energy again, the tingle mixed with electricity coursing through her body.
Something isn’t right, something is very, very off,
she thought as she made her way to the door and back to the ballroom.

A.J. stood on the terrace watching Clarissa place the card back into the envelope and tuck it into her bodice. The rose earned a place tucked securely behind her ear. Standing in the shadows Clarissa hadn’t seen her, but A.J. knew she felt her. She had slowly caressed Clarissa’s neck in her mind, knowing she would feel it. They had been that connected before, and she was glad to see that they still were. A.J. adjusted her doublet and ran a hand over her hair smoothing it back. Signaling to Selene to park the limo, she slipped her mask over her face. On the one hand, she hoped Clarissa didn’t recognize her. Yet on the other, she hoped for the possibility to sweep her off her feet and that the short note and rose had set her up for just that.

A.J. pulled her invitation to the ball from inside her jacket and watched others make their way through the receiving line. The line was long and slow with each guest being announced and welcomed with a personal thank you and small party chatter. From her vantage point, she could watch as Clarissa stepped to the back of the line and waited for each guest, shaking their hand and welcoming them with an enchanting smile. A.J. handed her invitation to the announcer and watched Clarissa as he announced her arrival.

“Ms. A.J. Lockwood.”

###

Clarissa felt one of her students, Shirley, tug on her sleeve and lean over to whisper in her ear.

“Professor, I think that’s the donor we have been wondering about. The one that made the hundred thousand dollar gift, renewable every year if certain conditions were met, remember?”

Turning her head towards the announcer, Clarissa tried to sneak a peek at the elusive donor. Her mask hid any possibility of being recognized so Clarissa turned her gaze back to the patron in front of her smiling sweetly. Her hand trembled slightly as she shook his.

“Thanks, John, for coming. We appreciate your support for the event. Please let me know if there is anything you need tonight.” Clarissa felt her hands tremble more as she released his.

Slowly, guests made their way down to Clarissa until finally; she was face-to-face with her anonymous donor.

Shirley spoke-up first, “Welcome tonight, Ms. Lockwood. This is Professor Graham, the hostess for this event. Can I say how much we appreciate your support for the ball? I would love to thank you personally if you have time later in the week.”

“Shirley, please. I am sure Ms. Lockwood is a busy woman,” Clarissa said, as A.J. stood directly in front of her. “Thank you for your support this evening. You don’t know how much we appreciate it, especially in this economy.” Clarissa felt a charge run through her body as A.J. clasped both of her hands in hers. Her eyes meeting A.J.’s, she felt herself being pulled into a warmth she hadn’t experienced in centuries.