He lays me down on the soft grass, the scent of it sweet to my nose. I help him remove my dress and then peel off his tunic. The moonlight reflects on his dark skin, rippling over his muscles. He is a man in the prime of his youth. I move my hands over his strong shoulders and all down the length of him. I cannot help but notice that his skin is so much warmer than my husband’s, so much more pliant.

With our masks still on, we begin moving together, our cries echoed by the cries of others who are even now coupling in the darkness around us. The drumbeat grows louder now, more insistent. I cannot tell if it is the drumbeat I am feeling or my own heart, thudding madly in my chest.

~

The next day I sleep well into the afternoon. There is a dull ache in my head. Briefly, I am confused and cannot recall the night before. But then I remember:

A man with a hawk mask. The scent of him heady like that of the sea.

“Wait – what is your name?” I asked him before he left.

He hesitated but then said, “Dimitri.”