Yolanda had walked to the counter and leaned against it. Marlene approached her. The Italian schoolmistress was not dressed for work but wore a red silk dress which hugged her shapely body. Both women looked at each other up and down. They were close enough to smell each other’s perfume. Even an innocent observer would have noticed an intense sexual desire settling between them. “I take it you heard about my adventures”, asked Yolanda throwing her head backwards while she blew the smoke out of. Or even if you do: a temple to bodily function.Exactly like the girls', thought Aliasa, huge mirrors reflecting their images. Save for the urinals. They felt odd to her, built for the male anatomy, like her? Who was that artist who assembled a urinal, or was it a commode, in a museum, labeling it art? I guess it was art, Aliasa supposed, a pale imitation of life. She too was a receptacle, but their act would be more human than just a natural, more divine. Even to this temple. Especially to this. Despitethe liberal bent of California, the passion displayed in the publicsetting by the same sex couple was a bit disconcerting to the generalpublic. Lesbianism was not looked upon favorably in this town.After a few polite coughs, the love birds finally got the hint. Ellen lethim down and they found their way outside holding hands and headed to thecar. They were going to lunch to celebrate. Heather felt he was walkingon air. Just as they arrived at the car, Ellen's phone rang. . The masked figure stepped closer, and from under the cloak I heard the sound of duct tape pulled from a roll. The Mask quickly placed the strip over my eyes, stretched from one temple to the other. It wasn't pressed down against my eyelids, but I could feel it adhering to my nose and brows.I was in darkness again.I heard the soft click of a marker uncapped. The Mask's hand reached to the back of my neck and held my head. I felt the pen writing on the tape. Whispered letters, as the Mask wrote.
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