The Velvet Mask
It was one of those beautiful evenings in late August, when the warm
air blows through the curtains of the open windows and you can hear
the crickets sing.
Akira was cleaning up after dinner – he had made us one of my favorite
meals, sweet boy that he is – and we were all sitting around the table
just enjoying each other's company.
"Mothers," Akira began politely, "You've never told me how you met. I
was wondering about that today."
I looked across the table and knew that my love’s blushing cheeks were
matched by my own. Our hands met and squeezed each other's softly. "We
never have told, have we?" I said quietly.
"You tell him, I can't, it's too embarrassing!" she laughed and
covered her cheeks with her hands girlishly.
I smiled. "It *is* rather embarrassing..."
"If it's too...personal, you don't have to tell me." Akira's face was
a little pink too, by this point, and I laughed and pinched one cheek
between my fingers.
"No, I'll tell you all about it," I said, my own face warm with the
memory, "although it was a little...well...I’ll tell you."
"It was a dark night – there wasn't any moon," I began, trying to set
a mysterious and romantic tone. "I climbed up the wall silently,
passing story after story on the outside of the building..."
"You what?" Akira interrupted, rather uncharacteristically.
"I climbed up the wall," I said. "Weren't you listening?"
"Yes, but I don't understand," he said plaintively. "Why were you
climbing up a wall?"
"I was breaking into a building from the outside – I had to climb the
wall to get to the right window," I pointed out the logic. "It
couldn't be helped."
Akira didn't answer, but his mouth opened, then closed again. I
resumed.
"I was getting close to my target, but it was becoming more
difficult," I remembered the wall well. It had been highly carved
towards the bottom, but was smooth as glass up on the upper storeys.
"I slowed down for a moment, and something slipped and the next thing
I knew...I was laying on the balcony of the floor below with a twisted
ankle and a bump on my head."
I laughed at the memory. "I was so frightened that someone might
discover me that I actually forgot to look around me. When the voice
came I nearly jumped right off the balcony!"
"'Are you alright?' the voice asked, very concerned. I looked around
until I heard 'I'm up here!' and I finally looked up. Your mother was
leaning out of the window, looking very worried. I told her that I was
fine, but she insisted on coming down and getting me."
Akira looked at his mother for a moment and blinked. "Didn't you
wonder why she was climbing outside the building?" he asked, very
naturally.
"Well of course," she said, "but she looked so cool in that velvet
mask, so mysterious...and I just had to know why she was there."
"A velvet mask?" Akira repeated.
"Yes, a velvet mask. That was how I got my name. ‘The Velvet Mask.’"
She said the words along with me and we locked eyes and giggled.
"So, your mother, consumed with curiosity as she was, disappeared
inside the window and in a few minutes, she slid open the French doors
to the balcony I was on. She helped me to my feet and we moved inside.
We hobbled to the elevator and the next thing I knew...my ankle was
bandaged, I was drinking a cup of hot tea – and I was looking at some
of the most beautiful art I'd ever seen."
We smiled at each other again.
"Your mother worked at an art gallery," I said, prodding Akira's
memory. He nodded.
"I remember. Go on."
"Well, that was just what I wanted!" I said. "I was, after all, trying
to get into this very gallery when I had slipped. So it was even more
exciting that the very beautiful gallery assistant had let me in
herself."
"You looked so mature that night – all in black velvet, and that
dress! I couldn't stop looking at you." She smiled at me shyly.
I blushed a little, remembering the black velvet I wore and that
oh-so-sexy dress that complimented the mask perfectly. "And I was
watching you closely, waiting for you to leave the room, so I could
fulfill my quest."
"Which was?" Akira asked, his eyes glittering.
"I was going to steal the most beautiful thing in the gallery, of
course!" I laughed and they both laughed with me.
"So, you were the art thief, the Velvet Mask," Akira mused. "I should
have known."
"Yes, you should have." I said, pinching his cheek again. I let the
narrative drop at that point because, mature as he is, there was no
reason to make our son hear of the intensity of that first meeting.
Our eyes met over the table, as we both remembered the attraction, the
energy that made the hair on our skin stand up, that drew us together
inexorably and ended up, not terribly surprisingly, in a long night of
intimate and intense passion. We lay together on tables, divans,
chairs, the floor and, at one point, upon three carpets piled in one
corner of the gallery. Each texture, each smell drove us to new
heights of ecstasy. Within minutes of our meeting we knew we were
destined to be together forever. And each kiss sealed the deal, each
taste of each other was the signature we placed one another's bodies
to make it permanent.
We locked eyes, and our hands found each other's once again across the
tabletop. Akira stood, then placed his chair carefully back in its
proper position, like the gentlemen he is, then paused.
"But did you ever steal anything that night?" he asked.
"Oh yes," I said, "I took the most beautiful thing in the gallery."
Akira looked at us both and smiled, that quiet, adult smile of his and
I knew he understood. He walked away, humming a little tune and, I
hope, thinking about that adorable girlfriend of his.
When he had left, we stood from the table and walked hand in hand to
our bedroom, where once again we sealed that bargain made so long ago.
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