Mask of Deceit

Prologue

The eyes looking out from behind the mask are green, but that is all the man can see for her form is hidden in the folds of the flowing gown that she is wearing. The mask itself is stunning, handcrafted and if she is anything like the beauty of the mask, then she is definitely a catch.

Her voice is husky and sexy at the same time; it sends shivers of delight at the thought of what is to come through his body, as she takes his hand in her gloved hand and leads him along the cobblestone walkway, almost as if leading a lamb to the slaughter.

Sounds of the masked ball not far away filters across the square, laughter fills the air as revelers soak up the atmosphere, the colors are bright, and there is a feeling of gay abandonment as couples, groups move to and fro, their masks hiding their true features, and their costumes blend in with the crowds that swarm along the roads.

She leads him along the canal, the sounds from the square falling behind them as they cross the bridge, and he can’t believe his luck on his first night in Venice, to be chosen by such a beauty, and he tries to imagine what she looks like behind that mask.

They come to an alleyway and she pauses for a second, looks into the dark recess of the alley, then turning quickly, takes his hand again and leads him on. He could have sworn that he heard her mutter softly into her mask.

“This one is for you Paul, my darling.”

“My Lady, did you say something?”

“No, I am just thinking about what is ahead of us tonight, you must have imagined it.”

She leads him into a room with a four-poster bed in the center, the light is dim and in the distance, he can hear the sound of music, and her heavy breathing, which he takes as passion, and a sign that he is in for a good time tonight with a masked stranger.

The sound of falling cloth behind him, he turns and gasps at the beauty before him. She is naked, but still wears the mask, and he feels the heat rush through his body, and desire for the masked stranger before him fills him, and he sheds his clothing.

“Do you like what you see Sir?”

“Yes My Lady, you are magnificent, but I wish to gaze upon your face, please remove your mask so that I might drink in your true beauty.”

“I am sorry, you may have me, but the mask stays on. Lie down, and I will come to you.”

He lies back on the soft mattress, and she straddles him, moving up his chest and offering herself to him. His eyes close in ecstasy, and he feels her take his hand, and the soft feel of silk wraps around his wrist, then the other, and he is bound to the posts of the bed. His eyes fly open in alarm. He sees her sitting on his chest, her weight holding him down, and in her hand, she is holding a dagger, and he hears sobs coming from behind the mask.

“My Lady, what are you doing?”

Without a word she brings the dagger down, the dim light flashes off the blade as it cuts deep into his chest. His body arches as he tries to throw her off, he pulls at the silk holding his hands in place, but she rides him, gripping his body with her strong legs, and plunges the blade in, again and again, the blood splatter being thrown across the whiteness of the bed.

His body shudders in its final gasp to hold onto life, and then with a death rattle in his throat, she slashes the sharp blade deeply across his throat, his body goes limp beneath her, the air in his lungs escaping through the deep wounds, as his blood soaks into the bed cover, dripping off the bed, to form a puddle on the carpet.

“There Paul my darling, I showed mercy, just like you taught me, I cut the throat of the animal.”

Without another word, she pulls the gown over her head, covering the blood on her body, slips the dagger into the folds of her dress, and without looking back at the dead man on the bed, leaves him, to be discovered when the occupants of the room returned.

She mingles once more with the groups, just another mask in the crowd.