it was a familiar game

He wears a mask - golden and elegantly carved with high cheek bones and a longer pointed nose. The lips curl up and back lusciously, though with no implication of human emotion. Pure gold shields the eyes, allowing no glimpse of the soul. And yet, kissing this face was the aim of her search, the treasure at the end of the game. We were jousting, playfully, along the chain link fence lining the playground. Trees framed the scene, blocking the landscape beyond our immediate occupation. In a way we were tense, there was a bigger story behind the charade that I cannot fully recall. But I know that at the end of the game, when the winds shifted and she paused in her attack, it was because she sense his presence. She turned, fear and awareness in her eyes, and met his touch with reservation. The black cloak covering his head draped elegantly along side the face, flowing around the entire body. I saw no hand caress her skin, no movement below the waist. It was a lean, a whisper, and a hush.