Bliss was waiting for him, he knew.

Payne was away and, for a short time (for a moment so painfully brief to the minds of lovers, yet lingering interminably upon the flesh), Bliss and Zero could pretend they weren't playing the hiding game.

From where he stood, Zero could already see her silhouette upon the balcony; she stood, stark and sentinel, watching his approach. Clothed in a robe of the blackest gray, untied and fluttering around her, Bliss lured the night's affections; its breath parted the delicate cloth and licked the perfection of her skin - skin as beautiful, and deadly, as snow.

He stood below, gazing up at her somber visage. How cruel it should be that Payne's hunger and unspoken commands of 'forbidden' could invoke such grief within this woman; a woman strong and unbridled, standing bare to the night - hair tousled and nipples erect from its invisible touch.

In sharp rememberence, he could feel the softness of Bliss's breasts beneath his hands, the persistance of her nipples. Her body had been slightly cool to the touch, but no less inviting. Gliding his fingers across her supple flesh, Zero buried his face within her throat, drinking up the fragrance of her - the slight hint of perfume, then the more pleasing scent of Bliss's essence. He remembered smiling at the notion of solving the enigma of Woman - all that passed and is to be, the emodiment of that which now is She, lies cradled within her neck's hollow. Bliss's scent had been unconditional, desirable, and sacrosanct. It made him wonder whether his love was born of its own volition.

Another moment of ecstasy lit within his mind, and he could feel the embrace of her legs about his body - her legs so long and lean, radiating delicacy, yet harboring strength; a dancer's legs. They gripped him tight as she urgently met his thrusts. Being with Bliss felt like touching god; with every grip and stroke and push he was being reborn again. To kiss her mouth was sacred, but to join with her was divine.

Candlelight had reflected off the dewy sweat of her body as he held her, arched against him, breasts resplendant in the dim light. The music of her rapture filled his ears, and for the briefest second Zero felt he would become dizzy - overwhelmed by her seige.

He emerged from the fog of nostalgia to be consumed, again, by the figure above him. In her eyes he found the love and adoration he so coveted, but her countenance denied him nothing: fear and sorrow mingled there. And when she turned away at last, clicking the french doors locked behind her, Zero was not at all surprised.