Venice 1754, the evening of Carnival. When Venetians gather in Piazza San Marco in masks. A night when torches blaze, their light dancing along the walls illuminating brilliant costumes below. In an apartment overlooking the Piazza, a beautiful young duchess is making a final touch, placing two black feathers on her silver and purple mask. Completing her disguise, her personality for an evening where her passion and desire will be free to lead her.
Elle D'or was the idol of all France, no other has ever been found, nor will one ever be found to match her beauty and her talents. Everything about her was natural, her purity of heart, the movement of her spirit, and her passion for ecstasy. Her gown, made for royalty, barely kissing the carpet as she walked was made of the finest fabrics the world had to offer. Draped across her shoulders, tight around her waist, accentuating her bosom which created a valley so deep and profound it demanded careful study from all those who came across it.
She took one last look into the mirror, brining the mask up to her face, hiding all but her eyes and her lips. Her mouth curled up into a smile, approving of her fine handy work and the look of heated expectation in her eyes. For tonight she would not be alone in her escapades. It had been arraigned the evening prior that she would meet a Venetian noble man whose reputation and many talents were well known throughout the city. His charm infected all those around him. He was able to make women go into rage with desire and able to unleash their lustful passion. With mischievous intent in her eyes she dashes to the door. She pauses and takes a deep breath, causing her bosom to rise and fall as if they were clouds on a breeze. She cracks opened the door, takes a peek out side and makes off into the night, the candles in her room blowing out as she shuts the door.
Across the canal in an abandoned lot, four of Venice's finest are drinking the last of their wine discussing their strategy for the evening. Although they are all similarly dressed in black capes, one man stands above this group. His stance is slightly more relaxed and refined, confident of his place in life. His mysterious face hidden beneath a mask made nearly all of red through which all you could see are his two penetrating eyes, the devilish Count Dominique Rosa. There is a flash in his eye as fireworks explode overhead. After a final good luck toast these four-cloaked figures go their separate ways, our count makes haste for Piazza San Marco, to find a mystery woman from the north.
As the Count and Countess wind their way through the alleys the temperature rises as thousands have taken to the streets, they weave and doge, making their way through the crowd. With every step the anticipation grows, the noise and music becoming louder, beating in their chests. Both have spent hours playing out the events to come. Now with the moment upon them their pace quickens, their breath impatient, each eager to tease the other into submission.
Arriving at the chosen meeting point, the fun begins. They do not know each other, are unaware of what the other is wearing, they can only study the crowd and the masks, locking eyes with others to find the truth of their intent. For several minutes Elle D'or sneaks through the crowd hoping to discover the count before he discovers her. She stops in mid-stride, caught staring at the ground. She can feel them, his penetrating eyes. He has spotted her from a far, able to remain anonymous in the crowd. She does not know where he is, but she can feel him staring into her. Her pulse is racing, her blood rushing through her body, the excitement is overwhelming, as she skips a breath. She slowly looks up and carefully glances over her right shoulder.
She catches sight of a bright red mask, stationary in a sea of movement. Confident of the authority her beauty possesses, she turns and challenged this man, radiating truth and purity from her eyes. As she smiled slightly toward him, encouraging him, their line of sight was broken by a passing crowd. As the crowd parts Dominique sees her disappear into the crowd, the chase is on. He weaves and dives his way through the mob of people, catching only glimpses of Elle D'or as she continues to elude her pursuer. A game of cat and mouse. She leads him away from the crowd, he always sees her as she is turning a corner into another alley, making haste to find this temptress he turns down the next ally and BAM, he is knocked to the ground by three men who place a sack over his head and tie his hands behind his back.
