Paper Faces | Part One
Part One
“You’re late.”
The voice that filtered through the cell phone connection was distorted by loud music playing in the background. Outside Jensen's office, the ancient dot matrix printer was screeching obnoxiously as it printed out paychecks for the temps he employed. Despite this, Jensen could tell that Eva Ruiz was pissed. Jensen stood up and closed his office door, right as he saw his secretary coming toward him with more checks to sign.
This was getting ridiculous. Katie, his take-no-crap-from-anyone secretary, knocked exactly twice before opening the door and waving the slips of paper at him. Jensen motioned for her to set the unsigned checks on his desk. She did, but not without mouthing words at him much too quickly for him to follow. When was Jensen supposed to have become a lip-reader? That was never in his skill set. He shrugged at Katie, who huffed and left, closing the door behind her.
“Jensen, are you there? I know you didn’t hang up on me,” Eva’s voice was stern.
“No, I didn’t hang up on you, and I’m not late! It’s only five fifteen and the new payroll system is buggy,” he complained. “A whole buncha checks didn’t print yesterday and we only managed a partial list of temps who’d still need checks and now-“
“Whoa, slow down, Jen,” Eva said. “Okay. I forgive you for not getting here early and helping us set up like you promised, but please be here for the show at least. You’re my best man, it’d be weird for you not to be at my bachelor party.”
“Actually it’s Lucas’ bachelor party,” Jensen countered. “And technically it’s not even a bachelor party.”
Eva huffed his ear. “Technicalities. The point is I need you here to support me in my time of need. Haven’t I always been there for you?”
Eva was an old friend of Jensen’s from college, back when Eva was known only as Evan and kept the Eva side of his personality closely hidden. Jensen was the first person Evan had come out to, when Jensen had come back to their shared apartment style dorm room to find Evan wearing a flimsy summer dress while cleaning and singing along to a Sarah Brightman song. At the time, Evan had made Jensen promise not to tell anyone, but was out and open these days, flitting back and forth between male and female gender identities as his mood dictated.
“I’ll be there, Eva,” Jensen said, sitting down to sign his name for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I promise.”
The low thrum of a driving bass beat could be heard outside of the old, red brick building Jensen stood in front of. This was definitely the place. Even so, he fished the invitation from his jacket and compared the address to the big block numerals mounted above the narrow glass door. Yep, this was the place alright. Now all that was left was to go inside and join his friends.
Jensen had spent all week not looking forward to this.
Oh, it wasn’t because Jensen didn’t like going out. He did, but it had been a long week and he still hadn’t made it to the library to check out a couple of books he’d had on hold. After the payroll fiasco, Jensen just wanted to go home and bury himself in his bed once 5:15 PM rolled around.
And then he felt like a jerk because he didn’t want to go to his friends’ bachelor party. Yet here he was, standing in front of the old brick building. He checked his watch. He was about fifteen minutes late, and he was sure he’d hear about it from his friends, but he’d promised he be here and so he pulled open the door and stepped inside.
“Jensen!”
Jensen soon found himself with an armful of Eva Ruiz, all slender five foot six of her, and he returned her hug. “The show is just starting, and you have to sit with us.” Just then her fiancé appeared on the scene, effectively rescuing Jensen from her clutches.
“Sorry,” Lucas said, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her back into his chest. She pressed against him happily, grinning. “She’s a little excitable tonight.”
“Why are you at the bachelor party, Eva?” Jensen teased. “I thought that bachelor parties were reserved for, you know, bachelors. Not the bride.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” Eva pouted. “This is hardly a traditional bachelor party anyway, and I didn’t feel like being a bachelor tonight. Besides, it’s our party so I can do what I want. Isn’t that right, Snookums?” Here she turned to her fiancé and tugged him down for a kiss, which he wholeheartedly went in for. Jensen was torn between geez, get a room and aw, they’re cute. What she said was true as well - instead of opting for a traditional bachelor party where they had to go out separately they’d decided on doing something a little classier. They’d rented out a cheap venue and hired a dancing troupe that called themselves Dancers for Change. On the way in Jensen had noticed a line of large glass jars with a sign that read:
Let us help make your pockets lighter!
Leave that heavy spare change in the jar and make good things happen!
“She’s right you know,” Lucas said once he was done molesting his fiancé right in front of Jensen. “The donation jars are right over there. Feel free to write a check.”
“Oh screw you,” Jensen said, laughing. “I’ve been writing checks all day.”
“But it’s for a good cause!” Eva exclaimed, seemingly offended. “It benefits the pediatric ward of the hospital Lucas works at!”
“I’ll write a check later,” Jensen promised. He looked around at the room they were in. “Isn't there some form of entertainment we’re supposed to be watching?”
“That’s you,” Eva said, narrowing her eyes at Jensen. “Take off your clothes and dance around a little.” That earned her a swat on the butt from Lucas.
“Eh, nothing you haven’t seen already,” Jensen said, thinking back with amusement at the two-week disaster that had been them trying to date. Eva cracked up, obviously thinking along the same lines as Jensen, and poor Lucas just looked confused. Oh, he knew they’d tried dating back in the day and that it hadn’t worked out, but he was definitely out of the loop on the details.
Jensen, being gay, hadn’t had one clue on how to deal with Eva. At the time, it hadn’t been funny to either one of them, but now, years later, it was hilarious and amazingly their friendship hadn’t suffered for it. Jensen was happy to see her hooked up with a great guy like Lucas.
“Come on, come sit at our table. We’re right up front, of course.”
Jensen laughed and allowed Eva to lead him to his seat.
The show was actually quite good. Jensen enjoyed it despite not being a rabid fan of dancing - that is, he didn’t religiously watch Dancing with the Stars or those other competitive dance shows on television. He’d watch it for a few minutes if he happened to land on it while channel surfing, especially if they were tangoing, because that dance was hot.
So far Jensen was disappointed that there hadn’t been a tango in the show yet. A woman introduced by the emcee as Genevieve performed a very moving contemporary piece that brought tears to Eva’s eyes and even caused Jensen to feel a bit emotional, which he hadn’t expected. Genevieve swirled around the stage in a gauzy blue costume and when she stood back up from her prone position on the stage floor, she was met with thunderous applause while she took her bows and then ran off stage right.
“Ladies and gentleman thank you for your enthusiasm tonight!” the emcee said, smiling down at the crowd. “We've had a lot of fun so far tonight and you’ve been a great audience. Don’t worry, we have much more in store for you, and if you’re feeling generous, don’t forget our donation jars over by the door. We’re Dancers for Change but we accept large bills and checks too - we’re not picky! Our next performer is a bit different, and is one of our most requested dancers. We’re sure you’ll like him too! Please welcome Masquerade to the stage!”
“Oh, you’ll like this guy,” Eva said, nudging Jensen in the ribs with an elbow that was surprisingly sharp. “He’s hot, and dances like a harem girl.”
“Eva!” Lucas admonished her, “Don’t make me jealous at our bachelor party! It’s not nice.” He leaned closer to Jensen. “She has a total boner for this guy. It’s almost disturbing.”
“So, wait, there’s a male belly dancer? Isn’t that, like, extraordinarily gay?”
Eva looked at Jensen and she was clearly not amused.
“That’s nice. Last I checked you weren’t exactly straight. Been playing for the other team? I haven’t seen you stepping out with the ladies.”
Jensen gave a wry smile. “You haven’t seen me stepping out with anyone,” he clarified.
“And that’s another thing,” Eva said, clearly set into Lecture Jensen mode. “You need to date more. I can’t remember the last time you had a hot young thing trailing you around like a puppy. You need to fix that.”
Jensen was about to come up with a retort, but his eyes were drawn to the stage as a figure there was slowly illuminated by a single blue spotlight. No music played, not yet, but there was definitely a sense of anticipation as the dancer, facing away from the audience, held perfectly still in the silence.
The dancer wore no shirt, and the light illuminated the muscles on his back in blue. His hair was obscured by a scarf, knotted at the base of his skull so that the long ends hung down his back to nearly reach his waist.
The music started then - a slow, sad tune played on cello that evoked feelings of longing, of homesickness, of things that Jensen wished for but hadn’t found yet. The dancer started to sway, and the scarf swung opposite of his hips.
Turn around, Jensen thought.
Masquerade, still facing away, put his hands to his face and then lifted them skyward again, but this time there was something in his hands - a mask. The audience went wild at this, cheering and clapping and some even stomping their feet. He turned the mask around so it was like it was looking at the audience, and then the dancer slowly, so agonizingly slowly, undulated down to his knees, all the while holding the mask aloft. He turned his face to the right, ever so slightly, letting the light barely illuminate the curve of his cheek before turning away and repeating this on the left, this time returning the mask to his face.
Jensen realized he was holding his breath.
Turn around turn around turn around.
The beat dropped, and the music became louder, more aggressive, sneaking into Jensen’s veins and thrumming in time with his heart, and Masquerade returned to his standing position.
Masquerade finally turned to face the audience, and Jensen was still denied the satisfaction of seeing the man’s face. That mask was infuriating; it kept the dancer’s face a myth-a mystery that Jensen very much wanted to solve.
The man moved like a snake through water and watching caused Jensen to lose all thought - the audience fell away and there was only Jensen, Masquerade and the music, caught in a dizzying tailspin as the dancer courted his audience and consummated their strange relationship all on stage. Jensen’s breath swelled in his chest and he caught his own hips trying to move along with the beat, trying to mimic the dancer from where he sat. He took a deep breath. No wonder Eva had a thing for this man.
When the music finally stopped and the spell was broken, the dancer stood and took a bow, his chest heaving from the exertion of the dance. Jensen couldn’t take his eyes off of all that muscle, just breathing in and out, and imagined running his hands over that body. It took him a moment to shake off the stupor he was feeling and join in with the rest of the audience in applause.
“See?” Eva said, smug, beside him. “Told you so.”
“You’re staring at him again,” Eva said, sidling up next to Jensen. “It’s starting to get creepy. Go talk to him!”
Jensen felt his face flush, little pin-pricks of heat blossoming under his skin and spreading down his neck. He hated that it was so easy to make him blush, but the dark atmosphere combined with the flashing lights camouflaged it. Jensen was suddenly thankful for small favors.
“I’m not-“
Eva didn’t even have to interrupt him. Instead, she just arched one perfectly sculpted brow and nudged him toward the dancer, who was currently leaning over the bar chatting up the bartender. Jensen quickly regained his balance and shot a glare at Eva before looking back to the dancer.
Jensen wasn’t usually shy, so he wasn’t sure exactly why he was feeling that way now. Perhaps it was the perfectly toned body adorned like a Persian god that was making him feel a little intimidated.
The performance part of the evening was over, and now the dancers were mingling with the rest of the party-goers, dragging people to the dance floor and drinking. Despite this, Masquerade still wore his mask and his dancing costume. Most of the other dancers had changed into more appropriate party wear. Jensen thought it was ten different kinds of hot even while his fingers itched to find out what was underneath that damnable mask.
“Staring again,” Eva teased in a sing song voice. “Go ask him to dance. I don’t dare - Lucas would kill me and then there wouldn’t be a wedding.”
“Geez, okay,” Jensen groused, trying to hide his smile. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him.”
Jensen took a deep breath and walked over to the bar, feeling ridiculously like he was back in high school and about to talk to his crush again.
“Hi,” Jensen said, letting his eyes wander over Masquerade’s costume.
“Hi,” the dancer said with a smile, returning the evaluating looks. Jensen felt flustered. He hadn’t expected the dancer to look at him like he was a party favor. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Yeah, it was great,” Jensen said honestly. “Especially, well, you know - your performance.” Jensen wanted to kick himself. He was not usually this tongue-tied. The dancer laughed.
“Thanks, I have fun up there,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, I’m Jensen,” he said, holding out his hand. “And you are?”
“Masquerade,” Masquerade answered, shaking Jensen’s hand. Jensen noticed that the dancer had allowed a sly little smile to come play on his lips.
“Right, the mask. So do you do this every night?” Jensen wanted to know. “Get dressed up and put on a show?”
“Not every night,” Masquerade said, his eyes twinkling. Jensen wanted to lean closer - to try and tell just what color those eyes were. One moment they looked brown, the next - green, and sometimes even blue. Even his eyes worked to hide his identity, and Jensen resented it. He wanted to lay this Adonis down on a bed and strip him of all his accoutrements, leaving the mask for last - saving the mask because that would be the sweetest part.
Jensen bit the inside of his lip hard, to bring his thoughts back to the PG side of things and hopefully calm certain parts of his anatomy down.
“I do have a day job,” Masquerade was saying, along with some other words that Jensen should have probably been trying to listen to instead of staring creepily at the dancer’s chest.
“Oh?” Jensen managed. Real impressive, Jensen, he chided himself. Way to sound like the Harvard Business School graduate you are.
“Yeah,” the masked dancer said. “Normal nine to five just like you, I’d bet.”
“What do - what do you do?”
“Uh uh uh,” Masquerade said, shaking his head. “There’s a reason I wear this mask you know.”
“You’re horribly disfigured,” Jensen joked, and then paled, because what if that was the case? But no, the dancer just laughed, deep and long.
“Sorry, no,” he said. “I think you have me confused with the Phantom of the Opera.”
A caterer passed by and Masquerade quickly took a chocolate covered strawberry from the tray they held, bringing it to his lips for a bite and following it with champagne.
“You want a bite?” Masquerade asked, waving the strawberry around with one hand.
Jensen couldn’t speak. He’d been too busy watching the dancer’s throat work as it swallowed the champagne. He nodded, and Masquerade lifted the strawberry to Jensen’s mouth. Jensen opened his mouth just wide enough to take a small bite, sucking on the strawberry so that the juice from the fruit didn’t trickle down his chin. He wasn’t successful and he felt a small droplet trail from the fullest part of his lip and down his face. Masquerade reached out and caught the droplet with his index finger.
They were caught in a spell; Masquerade’s eyes seemed to go heavy-lidded as he smeared the juice on Jensen’s bottom lip. Jensen’s tongue shot out, licking up the strawberry juice and just barely caressing the dancer’s finger.
Masquerade smiled at Jensen under his half mask. Or perhaps it was a three-quarters mask, considering how much of his face it actually covered. He had a nice mouth, Jensen noticed. His lips weren’t as full as Jensen’s own, but they were set in a wicked smirk that was tempting as sin. Masquerade leaned close and put that delectable mouth right next to Jensen’s ear, close enough to be heard even though he spoke softly.
“Wanna see where the magic happens?”
Now that was intriguing. Masquerade was gorgeous even with the hidden face, half naked and dressed like he belonged in a desert harem or on some far-off world. If anyone could make Jensen believe in magic, he could. As it was, though, Jensen found himself nodding mutely, drawing a smile from the masked stranger.
The dancer grasped Jensen’s hand and Jensen found himself being led away from the party in a daze - either from too much booze or from the exchange with the strawberry, he wasn’t sure. Masquerade tugged him gently back to the dressing rooms and beyond, giving Jensen the ten cent tour that they both knew was just for show. Masquerade then pulled Jensen through the back entry door that was for performers only and into the alley that ran behind the venue. It was dark out now, the brick building only lit by one small light bulb that hung precariously from its socket by two frayed looking wires.
Two large hands against Jensen’s chest pushed him up against the wall, next to the three wooden rickety steps that led up to the door they’d just come through. Masquerade didn’t kiss him though, not right away like Jensen had been expected. Instead, the dancer leaned forward so that his bare chest pressed up against Jensen’s clothed one and growled:
“You’ve been staring at my mouth all night, Jensen. Why don’t I show you what I can do with it?”
Jensen’s brain melted at that. He was sure of it - or if it hadn’t melted, there were at least some serious misfiring of synapses going on. He took a shaky breath and then the dancer’s lips were on his, hot and demanding. Jensen moaned and opened to the intrusion, panting for desperately needed oxygen when Masquerade drew Jensen’s lower lip into his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth. Then he sank to his knees and started undoing the fly of Jensen’s jeans.
Oh God, Oh God. This has to be a dream, Jensen thought. A super-hot wet dream. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.
The dancer fished a small foil packet from the waist of his costume. In the next moment slid a condom over Jensen’s quickly filling erection and he was quickly drawn into tight, wet heat that was perfect.
Forget the dream. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
The dancer was enthusiastic in his administrations, expertly bringing Jensen closer and closer to his peak. Jensen couldn’t form any words, just sounds that probably, in hindsight, sounded ridiculous but he had no control over. He tried to hold still, but Masquerade encouraged him to move, to find his own pleasure. Finally Jensen knew it was about to be over, and out of habit he tapped the other man on the shoulder to let him know, but Masquerade gave a guttural growl and swallowed Jensen down, his throat fluttering around Jensen and Jensen couldn’t hold back anymore. He found his release with a shout that he tried to muffle with the back of his hand, and just like that he was tucked away, decent again, and it was over.
It ended with a kiss that tasted of strawberries, champagne and latex.
It ended with the most intense kiss Jensen had ever had, the other man thoroughly dominating him with lips, teeth and tongue.
It ended with a firm hand pressing on his oversensitive bits through the denim of his jeans, his hips jerking forward into the touch as if he could perform again this quickly.
Jensen was not that young anymore. If anything could do it though, could make Jensen’s body react like an uncontrolled teenager again, Masquerade’s kisses would be it. The dancer kissed like he was dying, like it would be the last kiss of his life, and it left Jensen breathless and reeling.
The kiss ended surprisingly tender, trailing from his mouth to his ear where the dancer’s breath heated his ear.
“I never do this,” he said softly, the words tinged in what sounded, surprisingly, like regret. “Never. I should go now. I’m sorry.”
“Wha- what?” Jensen couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but by the time it registered Masquerade had already moved away and darted up the few steps to re-enter the building from the back door.
“Wait,” he tried, but it was too late. The door shut with the sound of finality.
Jensen’s night ended in disappointment.
Back to Master Post | On to Part Two