Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Twenty-two

Barbara had often danced with Bob before. But this experience was different from anything they had known together. A subtle enchantment seemed to enwrap them. Bob wore an extremely brief mask. Only a narrow strip of black across his eyes. Barbara watched him covertly as they danced together. His listlessness departed as she swayed her lissome body more securely against him. Unwillingly his eyes took on a new gleam as they discovered her beauty.

The first dance was ended, and they stood close together as they waited for the music to resume the dance. Barbara’s fingers touched Bob’s as they hung at his side, and she grasped them fiercely.

He looked down at her with a little smile and his lips twitched. Not with merriment. Hungrily. Hopefully.

Barbara smiled up into his eyes, letting her cheek rest against his chest as she offered herself with that smile.

Bob seemed to understand. Barbara felt his muscles tense themselves, and he drew in a deep breath.

Then the music started again.

They swung into the dance wordlessly. This time they were more an entity, and Barbara’s heart sang with happiness as he pressed her close with ruthless strength.

She was shamelessly glad that Ethel had insisted she wear this costume. She knew that as they danced Bob’s eyes were fixed upon the smooth swell of her breasts, and she knew he was fired with aroused passion by their beauty. A week ago she would have hidden away in shame had any man looked upon her so.

But that was a week ago.

A new Barbara wore the Comtesse Du Barry costume tonight. A Barbara fully aware of the voluptuous allure of her body, and determined to exert every charm endowed upon her by nature to win her lover back to her arms. Some of her happy certitude was communicated to Robert as they danced. A smile replaced the stiffness of his features. His hand moved tentatively lower on her back.

Barbara’s lips were upturned to his, and were breathlessly offered. A long kiss did not disturb the rhythm of the dance. But it set both their pulses on fire, and it whispered to them both that kisses were better given and received in the darkness.

“Let’s beat it,” Bob said suddenly. “I’ve danced enough.”

“What do you suggest?” Barbara drawled the words out seductively.

“Can’t we get away from the crowd?” Robert asked anxiously.

“Don’t you like to dance with me?” Barbara’s heart told her to seize his arm and hurry with him from the raised platform, but her reason whispered that his interest would be whetted by a show of opposition.

“I like to dance all right,” he muttered. “You’re a swell dancer. But... I’d like to do other things with you too.” His words were ardent. Totally unlike the clumsy lover Barbara had known in a dim past.

“What... for instance?” She lowered her eyes demurely.

“This is Mardi Gras, you know.” Bob hesitated, then plunged on desperately: “We’ve not so much time left. Only till midnight. After that... we’ll have to be ourselves again.”

“Aren’t we ourselves... now?”

“None of us are,” Bob stoutly asserted. “You’d never guess what a dull and stupid fellow I’ll be after the masquerade is over.” His lips twisted bitterly.

“I don’t believe that,” Barbara protested softly. “I think it’s our true selves that are shown to the world to-night. To-morrow... we’ll go back into our husks... but to-night we’ve cast everything aside except the glorious reality.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we have little time left,” Bob insisted somberly.

“Very well.” The dance was ended and they stood near the steps leading up to the pavilion. Barbara turned away from the dancers. Bob was at her side as she reached the ground.

“Where to?” she questioned uncertainly.

“This is all strange to me too,” Bob admitted. “But I think we can find a rustic seat unoccupied if we search for it.”

They moved away from the lights and the music. The second pavilion was farther back, behind a tall hedge of oleanders. All about them were couples strolling along the paths between the flower beds.

Barbara slipped her arm about Bob’s waist as he turned definitely from the lighted area. Shadows beckoned beyond. Shadows and the still night. There were fewer couples on the paths as they moved slowly away from the illuminated grove. Fewer in number and more intimately interested in themselves.

Bob’s arm slipped comfortingly over Barbara’s shoulders, and she relaxed against him with a sigh.

He stopped in the path and exhaled suddenly.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he announced.

“Why not?” Barbara drank of his kiss with closed lips.

“You’re sweet,” he murmured humbly.

“And I think you’re quite nice,” Barbara admitted huskily.

“Come here.” Bob turned aside and plunged into the shadows beneath a huge tree, dragging Barbara behind him. There was a bench beneath the tree, and a couple were dimly outlined on the bench. They were very close together, and wholly unconscious of being watched.

Barbara laughed expectantly as Bob strode past them with a muttered “damn.” The shadows were deeper beyond the tree. Blacker and more inviting.

Barbara’s heart pounded painfully as Bob’s hand held hers tightly. She wondered, momently, whether he had recognized her. But dismissed the thought as it was born.

He could not have recognized her. This was a part of Mardi Gras. A result of the madness which Mardi Gras instilled in one’s blood. It was inevitable and right that they should seek shadowed solitudes together. A man and a maid and passion... these formed a trinity of madness which approaching midnight more clearly defined.

They came upon a little grassy plot in the midst of a riot of wild flowers. A thin moon and starlight lighted the scene dimly. The music of the dance orchestras was a part of the witchery of the night. The gleeful sounds of four hundred people at play was a muted accompaniment to the music.

Barbara put her hands on Bob’s trembling shoulders. They stood close together. Silent. Drinking in the nearness of each other. Savoring the passion which rose compellingly in response to that nearness and aloneness.

Slowly, very slowly, Barbara’s hands slipped over his shoulders to interlock at the back of his neck.

“Let’s sit on the grass,” she whispered. Her lips were very close to his ear.

“You’ll ruin your dress,” he said slowly.

Barbara laughed shortly. She flung herself away from him and sank to the grass wantonly. Flinging her arms above her head.

She wanted to tell him so many things. But she could not speak. She seemed to be suffocating as he stood and looked at her gravely. She wondered what he would say if she tore the mask from her face. What he would do!

But she waited. Lying upon the lush grass before him. With limbs outspread and rounded breasts showing palely in the suffused light.

She closed her eyes to shut out the terrifying spectacle of his hesitation. Time ceased to exist. The world was a void into which she rocketed. A luminous void in which her wild laughter echoed and reëchoed.

Then she opened her eyes and Robert knelt beside her.

“I don’t know what your game is.” His voice was harsh and utterly unlike his usual tone. “But I’m calling your bluff right now.”

Barbara’s silvery laugh echoed merrily in the night. She touched his dear cheek with lingering fingertips.

He kissed her passionately on the lips. Then on the bared swell of her breasts. Barbara drew in her breath sharply, and her fingers fondled the back of his head as he roughly pushed the satin gown downward.

She closed her eyes and gave her body over to passion. Passion which swirled about and gave rise to frightened desires. She heard the music and the sounds of the dancing couples only faintly. She forgot it was Bob who caressed her body to such painful torment.

His breathing became hoarse as the gown impeded his lips. Desire transformed his tenderness to brutal strength. She felt his hands tearing at the gown, and she shuddered as the shoulder straps gave way to make bare her bosom.

An atavistic instinct made her glad. She had dreamed of such hurting strength. Had longed for such savage endearments. Deep within the body of every woman there is hidden the desire to be taken by force. The heritage of our ancestors to whom might was right. No matter how deeply it is hidden; no matter how well successive generations of civilization may have overlaid it with superficial modesty and gentle shrinking... it remains. The wellspring of every feminine emotion. It cannot be argued away nor held in eternal restraint.

It was this secret force which rose now to make Barbara glad. Savagely glad. This was her man whom God had returned to her. The wonder of passion engulfed them both.

Bob was kissing her shoulders and neck hungrily. Barbara moaned and drew his body to hers. They lay thus for a brief, delirious instant.

“I love you,” Bob muttered. “Do you hear me? I love you.” His voice was strange and wild. He shook her shoulder roughly.

“And I’ll make you love me. You’ll have to love me!” His voice rose mightily.

“Is this what you call love?” Barbara asked faintly.

A shudder traversed. Robert’s body. He raised himself on one elbow and seemed to grope for words. Then a sob broke from his lips. He rolled aside on the grass... away from her.