Archive of Our Own

Something had gone wrong when the delivery person had come to take her latest painting. Ava couldn’t be sure what, exactly, had happened. But it had likely been a catastrophic series of errors. It could have been a wrong address. Or the delivery person never bothered to check that they had the right address, assuming they should take it where they always did. Regardless, one of her paintings that was destined for the magazine she worked for ended up at the art museum.

But it didn’t end there. Somehow, at the art museum, the curator mistook it for another type of painting altogether. Or maybe they just didn’t have enough time to pull it from the walls before old lady Ida had come through and seen it. Better yet, perhaps it was the employees, who snickered as they went about setting up her painting in the gallery, that decided their curator must surely have a reason to display something with so much cultural value.

In the end, though, all that mattered was that Ava’s painting arrived at the museum. Where it was put on display and bought by old lady Ida. Who had, according to the curator, thought it a wondrous abstract work of art commenting on the frivolity of the clothes women had been forced to wear. And old lady Ida had, apparently, no desire to hear of alternative views of her newest piece in her collection.

Thanks to these mishaps, Ava, dressed as a bard, found herself at old lady Ida’s masquerade party tonight. She stood in front of the painting and admired her own handiwork as the other guests milled about her, probably wondering if old lady Ida was truly as ignorant as she seemed. This was her newest piece, one that Ava had never meant to be displayed outside the magazine, “Cuckoo.” No one at the party knew it, but Ava was the artist behind the work. And as much as she’d like to say she’d created something spectacular and imaginative, she had only captured a moment in time to the best of her ability. Memories of her and Yuri from that night replayed through her mind, reminding her of that deep hollowness in her chest.

A group of middle-aged gentlemen came to stand on either side of her to appreciate the painting. Each one had a drink in their hand, and all of them, like Ava and many of the other guests, had their own costumes. Somehow, what was supposed to be a masquerade party had also become a costume party. The man on her right, Edward Edwards, and the man on her far left, Albert Hall, both wore togas. It was perhaps the least imaginative costume one could put together, which fit the men she knew only through these parties that Ida would throw. In contrast, the man next to her on her left, Ernest Cox, was possessed of some manner of thought and individuality. He had dressed much like a certain cocaine loving detective.

“This is certainly salacious,” Ernest said as he stood near her, appreciating the painting.

“Yes. I don’t know what old lady Ida was thinking. This is scandalous,” Albert echoed on Ernest’s left.

“Are you gentlemen telling me your wives’ maidservants have been lacking in their duties?” Ava asked. The two men to her left stared at her dumbfounded. The whole situation was absurd. Perhaps because of that absurdity, she found herself in a jocular mood tonight.

“Ah. See, gentlemen. You must get your heads out of the gutter,” Edward said.

“He’s right,” Ava continued. “There is nothing salacious about this painting.”

“Then, pray tell, what is ‘this’?” Ernest asked, gesturing towards the painting with his free hand.

“My good sir! Every proper lady needs a maidservant to—” Ava began, pausing to cough and force a blush. “Ahem” Yes, the men were captivated. Their imaginations helped to drain the blood from their brains. “Perform maintenance. You know, for that time of the month when your wives are, shall we generously say, more concerned with happenings than usual.”

All three men cringed at the mention of ‘that’ time of the month. Edward and Albert were left speechless. A slow but sure understanding dawned on their faces. She felt bad for their wives.

“Ridiculous,” Ernest scoffed. “She is clearly using her filthy mouth-” He paused in what he was saying. To admit to knowing what she was doing was to tread a dangerous line. For his and his wife’s propriety, he was forced to hold his tongue. Or perhaps he did not wish to explain to his friends what a clit was, for she was most certain they had trouble finding it.

“I say, old chap, it is not ridiculous,” Edward chimed in. He’d had the least problems with accepting her explanation. “She is right. My wife often requires these services of her maidservant.” Ava and Ernest looked at the man pityingly.

“It does make more sense than the alternative,” Albert chimed in. “For what other interest would another woman have down there?” Ava and Ernest were, once again, in sync as they pitied this man. “Although it is the doctor that helps my wife. She is very insistent that he helps treat her frequent bouts of hysteria. It looked very much like this scene when I accidentally chanced a look at her treatment. I dare not imagine what horrors they must deal with to perform these ‘maintenances’.”

“It is the curse all women are saddled with, Mr. Hall,” Ava told him.

“Yes, I dare say she is right,” Edward added. “A strange topic to paint, indeed. But those are the times we live in.”

“The modern day artistic movement is crude, far too concerned with trying to shock its viewer,” Ernest said. But despite his protestations, he was the only one of the men, now that they ‘knew’ what that painting was, that had a hard time looking away from it. Ava couldn’t help the smirk that she developed, and so instead had to turn around and appear to be interested in the work of whatever skilled potter had constructed the vase for the nearby ficus plant. Ernest coughed. “They may not make art like they once did, but I think you will find this next piece comes as close to exemplifying our old, treasured values as any that came before it. Now come, my fellows. Let us examine this most fascinating portrait of a beautiful young woman and a swan.”

Tired of the party, Ava made her way upstairs. Through an open, ornate double door was a large ballroom with a window that ran across most of the wall. There were a series of makeshift rooms lined against the window, each with a blue velvet curtain that could pull around it, much like the way they worked in hospitals. Each ‘room’ had an upholstered sitting chair, each a different pattern that added its own character to the place. Ida had it constructed under the belief that it would allow her guests to rest from her many parties with the smallest amount of decorum and privacy one could be afforded at such an occasion.

Ava picked a blue-and-white-striped chair and closed the surrounding curtain. She removed her boots, sighed with relief, then took off her mask. Ida’s idea proved inspiring for a masquerade party. A tiny place to be oneself when the anonymity of the night became overwhelming, a tempting deluge in which to drown oneself and forget all their infirmities and problems.

Dressed as a bard, she finally had a chance to set down the lute that she’d been carrying around. It hadn’t been her best idea to bring it along. Ava hadn’t actually played an instrument since she was young, but she held onto it anyway as she sat down. She strummed its strings and went through the chords she could remember. The simple acoustics her rhythms birthed hypnotized her. Before she knew it, she was playing a simple medley from another time in her life, one that took her back to happier times. For then, she had not yet been married and divorced twice, alone and wandering through a world that seemed increasingly hostile to all the things that she was.

Outside, a brilliant full moon bathed Ida’s curated garden in its light. It turned at once from something impossibly perfect in its beauty to a haunting visage under the moon’s luminous rays. It looked cold and lonely, and yet the moon brought out its mischievousness. Ava would not have a hard time imagining fairies frolicking among the flowers. Or herself as a little girl, exploring the hedges and thinking that maybe she’d find a whole other world in one of them, a place of beauty and whimsy.

She forgot to strum on her lute as a butterfly, white and orange and gorgeous in so many ways with the most amazing patterns, flew in front of the window. Almost like it had every intention of finding its way into the party, a mask one of its guests left behind trying to find its way back to them. Ava put the lute down next to the chair, entranced by the creature.

Memories flooded her, ones she often tried not to think about. But the night’s events now brought them back, clearer than a painting ever could. She relaxed back in her chair, her eyes now heavy, as she let them take her.

“You could wear them, if you wanted to,” Ava said. She was trying to figure out her husband’s obsession with the golden heels she’d brought home. Really, the entire outfit that she’d come in possession of recently. He tried to act like he hadn’t heard her. But she’d seen his eyes drift to the clothes one too many times, and somehow, she didn’t think it had anything to do with imagining her in them. “I love you. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“You don’t think it strange?”

Ava’s tongue prodded at the inside of her cheek as she searched for words. “I think it’s different,” she led with. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him. “But different is not bad. You have never judged me for my paintings. And I don’t believe you’ve ever been blind as to what they mean.”

“A man would look disgusting in those,” her husband shot back, a weak, flaccid excuse on his tongue.

“I agree that they would not suit a man.” Ava came up behind him and laid a hand on his forearm in support. In a hushed tone, she added, “But they would suit you.” She knew he was probably the one with the worst case of nerves right now, but her heart was beating like crazy. This was not a conversation she had started lightly, but it was one that needed to be had. “I can help you. Shave this here, apply that there. I can promise you that you will not look disgusting.”

“I never asked for this,” he answered. She could feel the tremble in his arm, and she knew what he wasn’t saying.

“You didn’t have to.” Ava turned him around and reached up to touch his cheek. She flashed him an innocent smile. “I’m not going to force you to. But if you want this, if you want my help, I’m here for you.”

And that was when the walls had crumbled down. Things had progressed rapidly from there as she helped ‘him,’ as he still insisted on being referred to at the time, to rid himself of unwanted hair. She obtained a wig for him, and helped do his makeup, and made some slight adjustments to the clothes so that they would fit right. The heels, though, the heels had fit without an issue. He’d always had small feet; unlike other men, he never seemed to mind.

Eventually, he would come to her. And confess to wishing to be called by Yuri, to be treated like she’d treat any other woman when she dressed like this. She’d responded that was impossible, because the things she wanted to do with Yuri were things she most certainly would not do with just any other woman. The blush on Yuri’s face at that comment was forever etched in her memory.

Over time, their friends came to think of Ava as a fashionista. She’d bought her share of clothing, but half of it was for her wife, Yuri. She’d bought a few wigs, too, in the early days, but Yuri eventually began to grow out her hair. There had come a point where it was clear Yuri was not a cross dresser but her wife. It felt taboo to secretly have a wife hidden away when the idea of two women together repulsed so many people. There was a lot of excitement, truthfully, for her in the early days. It was an unfortunate truth that she would not come to realize until much later in her life, but she had never wanted a husband; it was no wonder she’d chosen a wife that had been so feminine for a person raised as she was.

Eventually, Ava and her wife grew bolder. Ava painted a picture of her, wishing to capture the beauty only she’d seen and present it to others. Sure, a part of her wanted to give Yuri confidence, but it was that secret part of her that really wanted to brag. Yes, this beauty is mine. No, you can’t hope to hold such a beautiful woman to your bosom.

The painting had gone over better than expected. And now Yuri was wanting to be around others as her sister. On one hand, she was glad for her. On another, she was terrified of all the things that could go wrong. And then there was jealousy, which reared its ugly head, because this woman that had been hers alone would now be shared with the world.

“Mistress, you called for assistance?” Yuri asked, a hand over her shoulder as she was bent down on one knee. Ava was called back into the moment as she laid on the ornate sitting room couch, dressed up in what could only be called clothes of feminine suppression. The role-play had been her idea. She should have thought twice about wearing such an old dress, especially one that required a corset.

“I- I’m afraid this dress is choking me,” Ava stuttered, a little out of breath. It was both part of their play for two and her reality. “I need assistance, um…” Ava searched for the right words; she was a painter, not a writer. She said the rest with a sneer. “You lowly chambermaid.”

Yuri giggled for a brief second, then snorted as she tried to cover up her mishap. “Right away, Mistress,” she said as she laid Ava back against the stupidly oversized pillow. Her fingers deftly untied the corset and pulled it down, exposing Ava’s breasts to the chilly air. And then she gently sucked on each hardened nipple. She lapped her tongue against them as she stared up at Ava.

The chill from the room soon disappeared as Yuri retreated to the other end of the couch. “If that will be all, Mistress-”

“Did I dismiss you?” Ava barked, trying her best to sound like a haughty governess. She failed miserably. “A mere chambermaid should not be in a better state than her mistress. Strip.” Ava watched as Yuri, who was all too good at being shy during these moments, slowly pulled off everything but her stockings and her shoes. Which most certainly did not have anything to do with Ava’s preferences. Nope, not at all.

“Better, Mistress?”

“Much better,” Ava said. Anticipation ran through her like molten lava. The state of debauchery they were in only served to turn her on more. “Now, chambermaid, I feel I am in need of your… special services.” Ava laid back and spread her legs. The overly puffy dress spread out around her, enough to provide Yuri a canopy under which to please her.

“Of course, Mistress. You can always rely on me for…” Yuri seemed lost for words as she moved forward on the couch. Her hands slowly stroked Ava’s legs over her stockings. Ava could just make out the tips of her golden heels held so casually, so perversely, in the air as Yuri leaned forward on her belly and crawled under her monstrosity of a dress. Yuri came back out for a moment, perhaps scared the fancy curtains that passed as clothing would muffle her speech. “For maintenance?”

“Maintenance?” Ava asked, trying to hold back her amusement.

“I hear it’s important to keep an engine well oiled,” Yuri shot back defiantly. “As your chambermaid, is my maintenance of your, uh, engine, not important?”

“You should be using that tongue for more important things than talking,” Ava ordered, unable to hold back the mirth in her voice. Yuri had the gall to pull all the way back and salute her, which made her burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Before she had it entirely under control, Yuri dove under her dress and started to nibble on her thighs. Laughter soon became moans as Yuri’s tongue found other positions, and Ava gripped the couch, needing to hold onto something. In between moans and laughter that continued to bubble up, she managed to slip out one last command. “Maintenance me!”

The pleasure stopped for a moment as they both laughed, Yuri’s muffled under her dress and resonating against her core. And then her tongue dove back in and Ava lost herself in their own perfect little moment.

The double doors of the ballroom clanged shut. Ava’s eyes blinked repeatedly at the night sky outside as she woke up. The moon still shone brilliantly across the garden. Ambient noise from the party downstairs still reached her in this little alcove, where she must have taken a brief nap.

She didn’t get up to find out why the doors were closed. And she had no desire to rejoin the party. Her eyes were transfixed on something far away. That dream, that memory, was ages ago. She had never thought that back then it would all come to an end. But it had. Yuri had her life to live. And live it she did, even if it took her away from Ava in the end.

They had been formally divorced when Yuri could no longer tolerate being anything other than herself. Ava tried to move on—she had even taken a husband temporarily—but it was not men that she desired. It never had been. So now she was alone again, at a masquerade party that displayed her own work, work she could not be associated with if she wished to maintain the false pleasantries of what passed for good company.

Ava jumped back in the chair as the curtain parted. A beautiful blond woman with a simple, black masquerade mask was on the other side. She was dressed as if she were Ava’s own personal Cinderella and had small wings that graced her back like she were a fairy. Perhaps she was here to let Ava know the clock had struck midnight and it was time to come back to reality. The strange woman giggled mischievously and closed the curtain before approaching Ava. She leaned over her to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Who are you?” Ava asked, lost and mesmerized by her beauty. Were this a dream, she would hate to be woken up.

“Tonight… Well, just for tonight, you can call me Rose.” Ava felt exposed without the mask, for it was awkward to be at a masquerade ball when everyone else had them on. Rose smirked as she bent down on her knees. “I noticed your admiration for the Cuckoo painting. I thought, perhaps, we were of like minds.”

Ava gripped the upholstery tightly between her fingers. Was her secret exposed? “Okay, Rose.” Ava swallowed her nerves. “And what are you doing down there, Rose?”

“I am waiting for you,” Rose answered mysteriously. She stared up at Ava, endlessly patient, a smile too much like a fairy’s for Ava to trust.

“Waiting for what?”

“Oh, many things. But at the moment, I’m waiting for two things specifically. And one of those is for you to remove your pants.”

If Ava’s nerves were not being frayed by what Rose insinuated, she’d have laughed. “Do you have a habit of doing this with any stranger you may believe shares your interests?”

“But you are no stranger.” Rose blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“And you’re telling me that this is not all some grand prank?” Ava asked, eyebrow arched. Rose looked mildly familiar, but she was not someone she could place with the mask on. However, there was something about the sound of her voice. Something that poked at her, made her feel like she knew her, but everytime it felt like she would remember, she always came up short.

“Would it matter?”

“Of course it would!” Ava scoffed. “I am not an exhibitionist, and I do not appreciate this attempt at humiliation.”

“First,” Rose said, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, back to the window. She held up one finger. “You want me as I do you, and we both know how rare it is to find someone like-minded.” Rose held up a second finger. Ava puffed out her cheeks, dumbfounded. “Second, we both know that you aren’t not a little into one of those things.”

It felt like a muggy summer day in her little curtained alcove as Ava was slapped with those words. To imagine any of this was a prank was now a difficult notion to conceive. Rose smirked at her as if she’d won their battle of wills. Maybe she had.

“Is this a dream, then?” Ava asked.

“Would it matter?” Rose replied once again. “And if it were, why not take what you desire?”

“I see you lie, then. For you do not know me and you continue to wear your mask.” Ava stood up from her chair. Rose frowned. “I do not find this prank funny.” She went to pull the curtain away, but her hand hesitated—she was scared to leave this small world of her own creation. Despite the privacy, ambient noise from the party traveled all the way up here.

“Pull away the curtain and, who knows, according to you, you might wake,” Rose said from behind her. Ava stood stock still as she felt Rose’s warm breath against her ear. “Stay here with me.” Rose ran her finger down Ava’s back, stimulating something within her that had not come alive in years. The touch of another woman was undebatably better than any pleasure she could think to bring to herself, certainly far better than any man had a prayer of bestowing on her.

“Why?” Ava choked on the word as Rose’s hand came around her waist, threatening to help her out of clothes she desperately wanted to part with.

“Fairies like beautiful and shiny things.” Rose backed away from her. “Your beauty is without doubt. But, my god, your soul outshines the radiance of the sun.”

Ava let go of the curtain. She knew this was a dream, that much had become clear. And if it were not, well, all good reason and common sense had already headed southwards. She was lonely, and only by sheer force of stubborn will did she manage to not give into her lust. “Honeyed words that I’m sure have won over any number of lovers.”

“They are as true as this moment ever was,” Rose answered. “I have waited a long time for this moment.”

Ava’s mind finally put together where she’d heard Rose’s voice before. And she had no other choice but to rush to her, to hold her in her arms and kiss Rose like she was the air she breathed. For too long, she’d had these dreams. For some reason, tonight, the dream did not end.

“I’ve missed you,” Rose whispered as Ava placed kisses on her neck.

“And I, you,” Ava replied. Rose placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, and for a moment, she let herself be embraced by Rose. “Why not tell me who you are instead of play this game with me?”

“Because it has always been endlessly fun to tease you.” Rose idly played with a few loose strands of Ava’s hair. “And after how I left—”

“Not now,” Ava ordered. She silenced her with a kiss. It had been so long, and she just wanted to bask in this tiny world of theirs. The fear that this was all a dream had nearly become a belief, and it terrified her that she may wake soon enough.

Rose’s entire demeanor changed as her eyes filled with passion. She removed her mask and tossed it to the floor. Her gaze seared Ava and made something in the pit of her stomach tighten in anticipation. Rose motioned with her hands towards Ava’s pants, her palms out as if trying to physically will them off of her. “Now can we be rid of these pants?”

“I have never met anyone, not even a man, that was so desperate to keep asking that question,” Ava remarked. Rose pushed her back into the seat. She knelt before her and helped to remove her pants. Rose licked her lips at the sight before her. “You weren’t joking.”

“I am a professional,” Rose answered, hand held to her heart. “I would never joke about my duties.”

“Your duties?”

“Yes. To see to your maintenance, Mistress.” Rose looked at her, her smile a little sadder now.

Ava held out her hands and waved her forward, begging for Rose to divert her attentions temporarily. She leaned up on Ava and kissed her again. Ava stroked her cheek when they broke apart. They gazed into each other’s eyes. “What a wonderful dream this is.”

“And I’ve told you, this is not a dream.” Rose slid back down her and gently spread her thighs apart with her hands. A flush of arousal flooded Ava’s body, eager for what was to come. From between her legs, Rose stared up at her. “I’ve thought for a long time about what I’d want to tell you when this moment came. And now I know.” Rose briefly kissed the side of her knee, then returned her attention up to Ava. “No matter what forms we might take, no matter where we might find ourselves, you and I are one. As we’ve been, and as we shall be, so long as our love remains.”

Ava felt breathless. Rose began to kiss her inner thighs as her fingers rubbed along her pussy. Rose sat back and sucked on her own finger, licking off some of Ava’s juices with a wicked grin. Ava hadn’t been this aroused in ages.

Rose moved back in and briefly rubbed Ava’s clit with her finger, then came forward with her mouth to suck on it for a moment. Pleasure exploded throughout Ava’s body as she felt her need build. Rose stopped too soon, moving up to kiss her exposed belly instead.

“Mhm,” Ava moaned as Rose slowly inserted her finger. Her brain quickly turned to mush as a second finger was added, Rose kissing a line down her stomach as her fingers pumped in and out of her.

When Rose pulled out of her, Ava thrust her hips unconsciously, desperate for Rose’s touch. Rose leaned back and smiled up at her. She licked her fingers clean of Ava’s arousal.

“What are you waiting for?” Ava asked, more desperate than she wished to sound when Rose stopped everything.

“That look on your face,” Rose teased before she dove back in. Her tongue had barely touched her folds before Ava’s fingers wrapped in Rose’s hair and pulled her forward. Rose chuckled against her before her tongue began to dive in and out, which was driving Ava insane.

“Fuck,” Ava moaned, biting her lip. She was trying to keep her voice down; somehow, she kept forgetting that this all must be a dream. Why fear what the other party guests would hear, then?

When Rose started to suck on her clit again, her hands lost their purchase as she thrusted her hips. Rose had reduced her to nothing but primal desire, a need that was quickly building in pressure. Ava was left whimpering when Rose stopped sucking. She gave one last lick to her swollen lips. “You may sing my praises, Ava.” Ava was too aroused to even laugh at that. Which added a seductive purr to Rose’s next words. “We have the room to ourselves. There is no one to hear us, dear. No need to be quiet.”

Rose dove back in on her clit. Ava was completely lost as her hand gripped the curtain. The electric pressure became unbearably pleasurable, a tightly wound coil ready to explode. “Fuck… Please, Yuri!” Ava moaned, Rose’s real name slipping from her tongue as light exploded behind her eyes and her hips shook. Her fingers had somehow managed to find their grip in Rose’s hair again. She pulled Rose into herself as she rode out the most intense orgasm she’d had in years.

When Ava came to, she quickly panicked, fearful that Rose was gone. In her passion, she had gripped the curtain and felt it pulled back. Surely enough, it was, but Rose remained between her legs, beaming with pride and love. Ava slunk down on the floor and kissed her, tasting herself on Rose and needing more. More of this, more of everything. “I thought you said it’d all disappear if I opened the curtain?” Ava cried.

“You insisted that this all must be a dream, not me.” Rose reached out a hand to cup her face, her thumb stroking Ava’s cheek. “The curtain is pulled back, and yet here we are!” Rose stood up and reached out with a helping hand. “Follow me, Ava.”

Ava didn’t think twice as she took her hand. They left the curtained piece of space, then the ballroom and the mansion altogether. Rose had brought her out to the gardens.

“I thought there was a life out there you wanted to live,” Ava said as they came to a stop by the fountain.

“There was. My delusion, dear, was that it had to be without you,” Rose replied. She kissed the back of Ava’s hand. “Whatever people will make of us, we will find a way, as we always have.” Ava had thought she’d never see her again when they’d originally parted. “Assuming, that is, you still wish to find a way.”

The night was utterly overwhelming. Everything wouldn’t be solved in a single night, but they would solve it together moving forward. “Yuri?” Yuri nodded. Ava needed to touch her, to be in her and on her and with her.

“To say this is not all a dream,” Ava whispered in disbelief, moving towards Yuri. “Should it turn out to be one, I pray that I never wake up.”

Ava kissed Yuri, her tongue diving in and sliding under Yuri’s. She gripped Yuri’s lower lip with her teeth as they pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, letting it go. Yuri tried to say something. But she lost whatever thought she had as Ava kissed her neck.

Towards the end, when everyone had suddenly felt their affairs were now their business by right of imaginary social morals, things had been rough between them. There had been so many things she’d wished to say to the woman she loved before everything between them blew up. And now, all those words were reduced and summed up in the simple, far too basic, “I loved you. So, so fucking much,” Ava nearly cried.

“Whatever you believe, dream or not,” Yuri said, reaching out to cup her cheek when Ava had taken a break, “our love will never be locked only in the past. I loved you, Ava. As I love you now, and I will love you until there is none of myself left.”

They kissed some more, and found it increasingly harder to keep their hands off of each other. There was only so much that they could get up to in the garden. “I should have come back sooner, but I admit to being a coward. When I saw your painting, I couldn’t help my amusement. I had to come tonight to set things right.”

“I’m glad you did,” Ava said. Her hands moved up and down Yuri’s upper arms, eager to touch her in so many places.

“Please know, Ava, that I am sorry,” Yuri said. “I wish we had never parted, but back then, I could not handle-”

“I’m sorry, too, Yuri.” Ava embraced Yuri. “Things were complicated and messed up and it all fell apart. But this is our opportunity to put it all back together.”

The heat between them simmered down for a brief moment. Had they done anything to kindle the flame, the entire garden would be alight with their desire. Yuri was the first one brave enough to speak. “I suppose we should rejoin the party.”

“By all rights, we should,” Ava told her. Instead, she started to head out of the garden and towards the exit. “But I find myself wanting to head home for some reason. And I’ve heard that it is dangerous for women to walk alone.”

“I see,” Yuri said, sprinting to catch up with her. Both of them put their masks back on. They walked hand in hand out of the party, convinced that anyone that did see them would be too drunk to know who was under the masks in the first place. “In that case, I am left with no choice but to leave this resplendent party to accompany you home.”

Both of them were giggling at that point. Ava enjoyed the cool night air as she walked with Yuri, occasionally stealing glances at the stars in the sky. “Never could I have conceived of a dream this perfect,” Ava told Yuri. “To wake will be utter agony.”

“You know, Ava, I find it funny that you insist that this all must be a dream.” Yuri stopped for a moment to kiss her. “If it is, then I suppose, inevitably, you must wake up.”

Ava leaned in to Yuri and whispered in her ear, “If it is beside you, then I do not care if it is reality or delusion. That I wake to you is all that matters.”