The two perused the purlieu of the mansion with shallow interest. Neither had been enjoying the party and while the drinks they sipped on were stiff, the alcohol only soured their already somber moods. One, a tall man in a gray suit, stopped to water the rose bush. He shook his legs a bit and tried to hurry the process along, but it was a stubborn thing and refused to be rushed. When at long last he was able to zip up his pants the woman he had been walking with was nowhere in sight.

He found her sitting on a stone bench in the garden. She looked like a slip of soft white silk draped over porcelain and glowing with the moon. He sat next to her and pulled her close, pushing aside her curls of brown hair to kiss at her neck.

“We’re supposed to be back soon for the toast.” She said, running a hand up through his short brown hair and pulling him closer.

“To hell with them…” He said and his hand slid effortlessly up her leg and under her dress.

She giggled. They were late returning to the party.