Memoir of a Trapped Housewife

Chapter Twelve {Mystique and Masquerade}

Chapter Twelve

Mystique and Masquerade

Outside the protection of the holding room and in the grasp of the dynamic crowd, frightened innervation caused me to freeze. Never had I been in such circumstances or at a party of this caliber. To my left young men snatched cocktails off the plate of a patient server and downed them with vigor. To my right a couple danced closely, closer than I knew was appropriate. Before me was a woman dressed in only feathers and skimpy fabric contorting, or should I say dancing, atop a table. In all, proper societal behaviors were forgotten.

I hugged the wall to my back, placing my hand over the splash of décolletage once more. I wasn't being prudish, I reassured myself, just cautious.

My eyes roamed over the crowd, noticing another pair of eyes analyzing me with amusement. They belonged to a woman with beauty that could only be described as brooding. Her eyes were hooded and sooty locks tickled the tips of her shoulders. A crooked smile controlled her lips and revealed delight. Though, this was all I could see, a large mask concealed a good amount of her face.

"Doll, you look miserable," she crooned, reaching me. "I'm assuming you're one of the new ones?"

"Slightly," I replied, stretching the truth more than a little.

"Follow me. You could call me a veteran of these things." She surreptitiously loped a slender arm around my shoulders and directed me through the first ballroom and halted in the second. The change in location made me appreciate the first room--the second was drastically louder and even more packed.

The woman, who introduced herself as Danny, converged with a cluster of individuals laughing raucously. Their heads swiveled in our direction as Danny announced me, explaining that I'd never been to a 'real' party before.

"Oh what a pity," a lofty woman chimed in. "We must show you ropes."

A tumbler was pushed into my hands. Nervously, I watched the slice of lime that floated in the foggy alcohol.

"I don't drink," I said softly, hoping the statement would not sound snobbish.

"Not even tonight? This only happens once a year, you know. You should make it count," a shorter man with salt and pepper hair replied.

"I'm fine," I smiled, handing it to him.

"Darling no," Danny intervened. "Here, I'll down one too and we'll be even. This is just part of the experience sweetheart, it's perfectly harmless." Another tumbler appeared in her right hand and she entwined our arms, lifting the glass to her vamp lips.

"On three," someone added excitedly.

I glanced around me, understanding that it would be hard to escape this situation without complying. The sour, fruity aroma of the drink caused my insides to twist. Perhaps if I satisfied their demands now, I would be free to leave and flee to my room on the fifth floor.

On three I tilted the glass to my lips, cursing myself as the liquid burned its way down my throat. The combination was awful and dry. Coughing, I wondered why people enjoyed such a dreadful substance.

"Hang in there," a younger gentleman laughed, patting my back.

"Dance with me, Frank," a girl to my left cooed. Frank, the man offering me encouragement, swept the waiting damsel into his arms and whisked her into the roguery. The rest of the cluster followed the example, leaving Danny and I standing side by side. I was still wrestling against the burning alcohol. The after effects left me feeling warm and fuzzy. I regarded my surroundings with new energy.