The clouds of the rain poured down, the whirpool formed sucking the two of them in the night of passion, red against white. The nineteen years old wore a red gown, her white skin contrasting deliciously with the gown. It was a single strap dress, with a long slit ending above her thigh. Meerab was admiring the dress in the mirror, loving how perfectly it hugged her curves. She twirled around and couldn't help but admire her reflection.

Her phone rang, making her sigh, "Hello, yes I have bought the dress. I will meet you in a few".

Meerab gazed at her reflection, and for a second, she imagined a garden of rose. She imagined running in the garden, feeling free and laughing as her beloved chased her. When she was seventeen, all Meerab wanted was stability, but she realised people won't stay for long if they lacked love. And love could be ignited with passion, her phone rung again, this time it was Payam.

"Make an excuse to Maa Begum that I am going to Saba's house." Meerab couldn't reveal about this party to Maa Begum, nor could she miss it. Attending a masquerade had been her lifelong dream. It had been a long time since she had broken any rule, and Meerab needed this getaway. She needed to get some time away to feel free and enjoy the night all by herself.

Meerab had made sure this party was safe, and she trusted Yusuf, her fiance, who was the co organiser of this party. Like all the other proposals, Maa Begum had moved on with the engagement after their consent.

Yusuf was a prodigy. He had completely college at the age of seventeen. He was born in a political background, the son of the minister of Foreign Affairs. Although he was born into such an influential family, Yusuf was extremely humble, and he had no interest in politics. He was a hardworking man, and the best thing, they had the minimal age gap of three years.

His eyes made her feel like a mature woman. Meerab didn't have insecurities, but in his presence, she felt like a beautiful lady. She explored her rebellious side with him, and since Yusuf was a romantic soul, she enjoyed his company. He was a great listener.

I am wearing a black tuxedo...

He messaged her as she drove to the venue. It was exciting and her red gown made her feel like a princess.

At the venue, Meerab glanced around the ballroom, which was filled with an abundance of colour, lace, laughter, and masks. She stayed near the edge of the room, standing to avoid the difficulty of manoeuvring in the wide full skirt, and sure if she sat, the corset would tighten to the point where she could barely breathe. She sipped the cold drink carefully and avoided eye contact, making it much easier by her fascination with the wide variety of masks that hidden identities.

The masks were an assortment of animal faces, colourful wide expressionistic tableaus, slim masks that played up a person's eyes and did very little to hide identity, a few Fox masks. She let her eyes flit from one end of the room to the other, watching the beautiful costumes and masks glide as the room danced romantically. As the antique dances were performed, some with extreme ease and grace and others with stumbling attempts, there was much laughter and enjoyment.

Meerab thought the masks let so many just enjoy their fumbling attempts without embarrassment, as they felt their identities hidden and any pride was able to be put aside for the simple enjoyment of The Masquerade, Meerab was enjoying herself immensely. She had danced a dance or two with partners but she had no idea who they were. Her identity stayed hidden behind her mask of red sequins and feathers, matching her elegant gown with its low dipping neckline and fluttering lace that imitated the movement of the feathers on her mask when she moved. It hugged her frame, the corset underneath, while laced tightly enough to mask a pound or two, was open enough to let her breathe and dance without the lightheadedness or possibility of fainting so common of the era she was imitating.

Yusuf had messaged her not to wait for him. He was busy entertaining his own guests. As she was looking around, she couldn't help but gaze at a gentleman. His eyes, dark behind his dark mask, watched her as she slowly appraised him. He was tall, a good head over hers, broad in the shoulder, slim in the waist, and his arms strained against the fabric of his white tunic. His legs were also muscular underneath the black breeches he wore. His surcoat was black with black embroidery, and his boots were knee high, also black.

His mask was beautiful. A black mask, glittering with red jewels, rather than the more common sequins, with eyes that tilted just a bit to add to the idea of mischief, and a single black feather hung from the left, moving with his movement. Meerab smiled a slow smile and nodded her head to him. His smile also grew slowly, and he nodded his head as well, just as the music started.

The previous dances she had danced were fun, and she had felt full of lightness and joy. But this dance...this dance had started as the others, until she had felt his hand on her waist for the first time. She gasped quietly as his hand slid around her to cup her waist into the half lift turn of the dance and she had to struggle to hide her shiver as his hand slid away again as they spun away from each other.

She had never known the dance could be so...sensual. Every time they came together, and his hands touched her waist, her shoulder, and even just her hand was a moment of shivers and desire, and every time they parted was there were butterflies and a longing to be held one more time. She thought she had felt lightness before, but for the first time, she felt little as he lifted her without effort, and his grace with every movement brought her enjoyment of the dance to another level. His gaze never left her as he caressed her shoulder with the back of his hand, teasing her in doing so.

As the dance continued, she felt herself become breathless, and not just from the exertion of the dance. Every time they faced one another, his dark eyes held hers. It took effort to tear her gaze away every time the dance decreed a turn away from him and especially to a new partner. Her face held a smile of enjoyment, but she was having a more and more difficult time hiding what every touch and gaze from her unknown partner was doing to her.

And all at once, the dance came to an end, her hand in his as she curtsied and he bowed. Then he took her hand, again placing it around his arm and led her from the floor, back to the corner where he had found her.

As he settled her yet again in the place, he found her his arm slid out from under hers, and she felt it against the small of her back. He leaned down, his mouth at her ear so she could hear him. "Would you like a drink?" He asked in a smooth bass voice that seemed to send vibrations down her spine.

"That would be lovely." She said, her first words to him, and they came out husky as she tried vainly to hide what his dancing and now voice did to her. His gaze held hers for a moment more, and his smile grew again in his strong jaw. She watched as he walked away towards the refreshment table and took the moment to slow her breathing again.

Meerab wracked her brain, trying vainly to identify the man. Something about him seemed familiar, but she could not place where she knew him from. His height unfortunately did not help her, as she knew many tall and broad men.

He smiled and sipped his drink. "May I ask your name?" He asked.

"My name is ... Saba, " Meerab wanted to hear her name in his dark, smooth voice, but she was not yet willing to let him know her name. It was a masquerade, after all.

"Saba." He lingered over the name as if over a delicate wine. "Unfortunately, my name isn't as beautiful as yours, It's Obaid." He raised his hand, and they shook hands.

Meerab was happy with his firm handshake. Nowadays, it seemed more and more people didn't know a correct handshake. She smiled up at him, her smile turning to laughter as he then took her hand and kissed the back, more in keeping with The Masquerade. He again smiled that slow sexy smile.

"So, Saba," God, Meerab thought, I wish he could utter my name in that silky tone. "Are you into the idea of masquerade as a reader or like the idea of interacting with strangers?"

"Both, I think. Talking to complete strangers, hidden behind masks, feels like weaving a story without revealing our true identities," she continued. "It's an opportunity to embrace new personas and share fleeting moments of enchantment within the dance of the unknown." Meerab liked the way Obaid held her gaze as she spoke, a small smile stayed on his face and his eyes didn't wander like so many others did, especially with her dressed in this gown designed to show off her...assets. "And what of you, Obaid? Do you just like being mysterious?"

As the question floated toward him, Obaid's eyes, framed by the intricate mask he wore, twinkled with amusement. "Ah, the allure of mystery does have its charm," he replied with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But it's the tales spun in these fleeting encounters that truly captivate me-the chance to unravel stories hidden beneath the veneer of anonymity." He paused, casting a curious glance toward Meerab. "Tell me, what draws you to this dance of secrets and stories?"

With a nostalgic gleam in her eyes, Meerab delved into her childhood tales, painting vignettes of innocence and wonder. "As a child, I was immersed in fairytales," she began, her voice carrying a soft melody. "I dreamt of a love that transcended boundaries, a connection sparked by the soul. The masquerade, with its enigmatic aura, feels like an echo of those whimsical dreams-a chance to uncover a connection that goes beyond the superficial." She glanced at Obaid, her gaze shimmering with sincerity. "What about you? Do you believe in the magic of true love?"

She adjusted her earring as a clip on it tended to slip down, and she felt the need to fiddle. She watched as his eyes transferred from hers to her hand and couldn't help but let her hand slide to her neck before letting it relax at her side again. She watched his throat as he swallowed as he let his eyes wander lower. His eyes were gone but a moment before returning to her gaze. His eyes darkened as she caught her breath.

All the lines blurred, and Meerab didn't want this moment to stop. She felt so alive, as if an age-old wound was being healed. She felt the sparks on her skin burning her and the butterflies in her stomach dance again.

His hand slowly trailed to the small of her back again. She gasped as he brought her suddenly against him, and her hands raised to his chest as she felt her body plaster to his. Even the layers of cloth from the gown weren't enough to disguise the feel of his hard body against hers. His eyes never left hers he leaned down until his mouth was a breath from hers. His eyes seemed to snap before she closed her eyes, and he captured her mouth with his. His mouth on her was sudden, and for but the slightest moment hard. Then he gentled the kiss, turning it into a question. A question that had to be answered.

Meerab leaned into the kiss, deepening it. She moaned when she felt his tongue lightly against her lips. She heard him growl in satisfaction when she parted her lips and let her tongue dance with his. The thundering of her heartbeat threatened to deafen her, but she didn't care for all she wanted to feel. To feel his body hard against hers, to feel his tongue slide deliciously against hers, to feel his hair as she ran her hand through it.

The electricity of the earlier dance was nothing compared to the lightning of his kiss. She felt the bolt run through her body, and she shivered in his arms. She knew him for a few moments, and yet this felt so right, with his arms around her, one hand holding her to him and the other clasping the nape of her neck..

He slowly lightened the kiss, drawing back from her reluctantly. He kissed her with a small touch of lips before stepping back. Her hands trailed back to his chest for a moment before she let the touch end and relaxed her hands back to her side. She was breathing hard and saw him glancing lower at her neckline before looking her in the eye again.

"Your name isn't Obaid, is it?" Meerab teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Obaid's lips curled into a coy smile as he leaned in slightly. "And yours isn't Saba, I presume?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Shall we keep the mystery alive?" Meerab questioned, holding herself back from enquiring about his name.

Obaid nodded, "Mystery gives birth to longing, and I want you to dream about me."

"How can I find you?" Meerab asked, revealing the desperateness in her voice. She couldn't let this man go. He seemed perfect, "At a school, I am a government teacher."

Meerab bit her lips as she watched him walk away, and soon she located her own car. She didn't walk away from this magical moment. She had lost her first kiss to a mysterious man, and she didn't regret it. While driving, Meerab noticed Yusuf's car turning into a lane. Curiosity piqued, she followed. The car halted by a large tree, and as she approached, she witnessed Yusuf embracing another woman. Surprisingly, it didn't sting. Relief washed over her-no more guilt of betraying her fiance to haunt her nights.