Gabe619
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2005
- Posts
- 3,648
The Masque
The costume had been delivered to the Untouchables HQ by Richard, one of Philips men who had chauffeured Mephisto before and so knew the location of the hidden base. He had told Marcus that Emelia had picked it out personally, smiled and left leaving Cole with uncomfortable feeling of what he would find in the box. But, as he unpacked, it that feeling had quickly vanished. It was actually quite a smart and elegant suit of clothing, though he did smirk as the horned mask.
At the appointed hour Marcus had been ready and waiting for the car which would take him to Emelia's Masque party. He had admired himself in the dark grey suit with black and gold overcoat, which reached below the knee, in front of the bedroom mirror for quite a while, knowing that if any of his team had seen him they would have given him a hard time about it for ages. He even tried the mask on and, surprisingly, found it to be a good fit, not uncomfortable at all.
As the limo approached the Majesty Ballroom, Marcus had slipped the mask on and once parked outside amid ranks of other limo's, he had stepped out into the bustle of people. There seemed to be an equal balance of men and women around him outside the big impressive building, all in costume, all wearing masks. He was in the minority that he had arrived alone, everyone else seemed to be with a partner. He walked up the steps of the ballroom and into the lavish and well lit foyer. There was a polite, orderly queue to walk through the metal detector and he half expected to hear complaints of such tight security, but if anything it seemed the guests were happy about it. Although he couldn't see peoples faces he had been told a general list of the sort of people who would be here tonight, from the A-List actors and musicians, down to the the head's of the crime families, or some of them. He knew Emelia had even invited some 'normal' people and paid for their costumes and transport here. But the joy of a Masque was that you simply couldn't tell who was who. You might be standing next to Tom Cruise, or the person might simply be Joe Blog's who ran a grocery down the road.
Passing through the detector and being swiftly and efficiently wanded, Marcus moved further into the building. A huge chandelier hung over the entry foyer where most people were currently gathered, though he could see two huge double doors were open on the opposite side leading into the ballroom itself where a live band was playing. Looking around his cop 'vision' couldn't help come into play. Just from how people held themselves, their body language, their size and shape you could tell who some were. It was hard to hide the body of a famous athlete or sports star even if they were in an expensive suit and mask. He grabbed a glass of something from a passing tray held by a waiter and sipped at it. Champagne, and the good stuff if he was any judge. But then Emelia would hardly insult her guests by serving them poor food and drink.
Behind him he heard a commotion at the main entrance and turned to see what was happening. At the walk through metal detector stood two people, a man and a woman by the look of it. Both were decked out in Japanese regalia rather than the more common outfit best known for being at the Venice Masque every year. Their masks were exquisitely made, Marcus could tell that much even from this distance, works of art each of them. What was causing the issue was the katana sword the man had sheathed at his waist. The security on the door were refusing him entry and voices were being raised making the other party goers stop and stare. Another security guard appeared in a suit and mask. He bowed politely to the two Japanese guests and spoke to them in fluent Japanese. Marcus saw his hand gesture to the sword the man wore, reprimanding the guards and again bowing low in apology.
Marcus had been stationed in Japan for about six months when in the Marines and although never quite picking up the language, him and the other soldiers and sailors stationed in the country had been given instruction on manners and societal norms. The bow, though of no real meaning for a westerner, was very important to the Japanese. A bow an inch to high was an insult, an inch to low made you seem subservient, whoever this security guard was had bowed to the exactly right level as Cole could see by how the masked male seemed to relax. Marcus's eyes flicked to the sword and immediately saw why it was not really an issue. The guest, and going by the dress, the masks and the language they could only be from the Yakuza, had peace-tied his sword, meaning the hilt was tied to the scabbard making it impossible to be drawn and used. As the two guests now moved past the security and into the room, Marcus got a better look at them. The woman had her hand inside the mans crooked elbow and she had an amazing figure. He might not be able to see her face but the long black hair was like a satin waterfall of softness down her back. She moved with a grace and form you might expect in a ballerina, ever muscle precisely placed. For a moment their eyes met across the room, and lingered on each other, before she turned away.
Excitement over he was back to his original problem. Emelia had invited him, but she was nowhere to be seen and he had no idea what her costume was. Of course with the masks she could be standing right next to him. As the crowd started to thin out, more people moving into the ball room, Cole moved to the main staircase which led up to the ballrooms second level which, if he remembered rightly, was mostly more seating, offices, toilets and a cloakroom. Moving up to the first step to give himself a more elevated position he turned to look out over the guests remaining. He sipped his drink again as his eyes, hidden behind the black and gold horned mask, swept over the figures. She was here, he could feel her. It was like a tingle in his body whenever she was close and the more time they spent together the more attuned that feeling got. Cole slowly scanned the room until, finally, his gaze stopped on the platinum blonde in an incredible elegant and sexy costume, and equally beguiling mask. She looked nothing like Emelia ... but it was Emelia. He smiled and put his now empty glass down on a nearby plinth and walked across to her. He bowed deeply, and theatrically, before standing straight and taking her hand to kiss.
"Emelia." He said simply.
The costume had been delivered to the Untouchables HQ by Richard, one of Philips men who had chauffeured Mephisto before and so knew the location of the hidden base. He had told Marcus that Emelia had picked it out personally, smiled and left leaving Cole with uncomfortable feeling of what he would find in the box. But, as he unpacked, it that feeling had quickly vanished. It was actually quite a smart and elegant suit of clothing, though he did smirk as the horned mask.
At the appointed hour Marcus had been ready and waiting for the car which would take him to Emelia's Masque party. He had admired himself in the dark grey suit with black and gold overcoat, which reached below the knee, in front of the bedroom mirror for quite a while, knowing that if any of his team had seen him they would have given him a hard time about it for ages. He even tried the mask on and, surprisingly, found it to be a good fit, not uncomfortable at all.
As the limo approached the Majesty Ballroom, Marcus had slipped the mask on and once parked outside amid ranks of other limo's, he had stepped out into the bustle of people. There seemed to be an equal balance of men and women around him outside the big impressive building, all in costume, all wearing masks. He was in the minority that he had arrived alone, everyone else seemed to be with a partner. He walked up the steps of the ballroom and into the lavish and well lit foyer. There was a polite, orderly queue to walk through the metal detector and he half expected to hear complaints of such tight security, but if anything it seemed the guests were happy about it. Although he couldn't see peoples faces he had been told a general list of the sort of people who would be here tonight, from the A-List actors and musicians, down to the the head's of the crime families, or some of them. He knew Emelia had even invited some 'normal' people and paid for their costumes and transport here. But the joy of a Masque was that you simply couldn't tell who was who. You might be standing next to Tom Cruise, or the person might simply be Joe Blog's who ran a grocery down the road.
Passing through the detector and being swiftly and efficiently wanded, Marcus moved further into the building. A huge chandelier hung over the entry foyer where most people were currently gathered, though he could see two huge double doors were open on the opposite side leading into the ballroom itself where a live band was playing. Looking around his cop 'vision' couldn't help come into play. Just from how people held themselves, their body language, their size and shape you could tell who some were. It was hard to hide the body of a famous athlete or sports star even if they were in an expensive suit and mask. He grabbed a glass of something from a passing tray held by a waiter and sipped at it. Champagne, and the good stuff if he was any judge. But then Emelia would hardly insult her guests by serving them poor food and drink.
Behind him he heard a commotion at the main entrance and turned to see what was happening. At the walk through metal detector stood two people, a man and a woman by the look of it. Both were decked out in Japanese regalia rather than the more common outfit best known for being at the Venice Masque every year. Their masks were exquisitely made, Marcus could tell that much even from this distance, works of art each of them. What was causing the issue was the katana sword the man had sheathed at his waist. The security on the door were refusing him entry and voices were being raised making the other party goers stop and stare. Another security guard appeared in a suit and mask. He bowed politely to the two Japanese guests and spoke to them in fluent Japanese. Marcus saw his hand gesture to the sword the man wore, reprimanding the guards and again bowing low in apology.
Marcus had been stationed in Japan for about six months when in the Marines and although never quite picking up the language, him and the other soldiers and sailors stationed in the country had been given instruction on manners and societal norms. The bow, though of no real meaning for a westerner, was very important to the Japanese. A bow an inch to high was an insult, an inch to low made you seem subservient, whoever this security guard was had bowed to the exactly right level as Cole could see by how the masked male seemed to relax. Marcus's eyes flicked to the sword and immediately saw why it was not really an issue. The guest, and going by the dress, the masks and the language they could only be from the Yakuza, had peace-tied his sword, meaning the hilt was tied to the scabbard making it impossible to be drawn and used. As the two guests now moved past the security and into the room, Marcus got a better look at them. The woman had her hand inside the mans crooked elbow and she had an amazing figure. He might not be able to see her face but the long black hair was like a satin waterfall of softness down her back. She moved with a grace and form you might expect in a ballerina, ever muscle precisely placed. For a moment their eyes met across the room, and lingered on each other, before she turned away.
Excitement over he was back to his original problem. Emelia had invited him, but she was nowhere to be seen and he had no idea what her costume was. Of course with the masks she could be standing right next to him. As the crowd started to thin out, more people moving into the ball room, Cole moved to the main staircase which led up to the ballrooms second level which, if he remembered rightly, was mostly more seating, offices, toilets and a cloakroom. Moving up to the first step to give himself a more elevated position he turned to look out over the guests remaining. He sipped his drink again as his eyes, hidden behind the black and gold horned mask, swept over the figures. She was here, he could feel her. It was like a tingle in his body whenever she was close and the more time they spent together the more attuned that feeling got. Cole slowly scanned the room until, finally, his gaze stopped on the platinum blonde in an incredible elegant and sexy costume, and equally beguiling mask. She looked nothing like Emelia ... but it was Emelia. He smiled and put his now empty glass down on a nearby plinth and walked across to her. He bowed deeply, and theatrically, before standing straight and taking her hand to kiss.
"Emelia." He said simply.
