Bal Masque`
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*Contains language typical of the 1950’s era.


It was Thursday night, and Robert and I were throwing a cocktail party on the lanai behind our home in Nob Hill. The guest list was small; just myself, my husband Robert, Robert’s younger brother, Grayson, my boss Conrad, and Robert’s secretary, Clara. We hired a caterer to serve hors d’oeuvres and mix drinks. It was an unusually warm night for San Francisco, and we were able to sit outside by the pool.  Stars were twinkling like little lights strung across the clear, dark sky.


I got up from my chair and excused myself to powder my nose and reapply my face. Without any encouragement, Grayson followed closely behind. He corralled me into the library, closing the door behind us. Putting his arms...

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