Touch Me, Daddy
The cool breeze is an instant relief, ruffling my hair and tickling my cheeks below my mask, and I exhale slowly as I weave through the whispering couples.
They gravitate out here every year. Well, who can blame them? It’s manic inside, and the masquerade ball is the one night of the year when you can sneak away with your chosen partner and not have to worry about rumors the next day. And at least they cluster on the patio, keeping near the golden light spilling from inside, laughing giddily as their hands roam over dresses and shirt fronts.