𝐀 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬

The evening was young and romantic and the Mostafah's were not supposed to be in Paris.

A woman, tall and toned, ran barefoot on the tile as her husband followed closely behind her, his daughter atop his shoulders giggling evening when he shushed her playfully. The woman was light on her feet, every step as if she was floating as she twirled through the hallway.

The man slid his daughter off his shoulders and settled her on her frilly sock covered feet, the polished floors allowing her to slip and slide as they continued to follow the dancing woman deeper into the palace.

Dark brown hands curled into the grooves of a head statue that the woman was quick to pull off its pillar, easily slipping a weight onto it to avoid triggering the alarm. She then spun the statue around as if it were a dance partner, shooting her husband a cheeky grin as he watched her with a tenderness in his eyes that she'd only ever seen from him.

When they finally reached the door, they were looking for the woman set the poor displaced statue on the ground, abandoning it before pushing the large handles down. Her husband was quick to drag his daughter to the large Grande Piano that sat in the corner of the room, the dark wood gleaming in the moonlight.

His daughter, hardly tall enough to reach the peddles yet settled for her father's lap, pushing him away with a small frown when he kissed the top of her curly head, messing up her hair that her mother had done up so nicely. When her father's fingers found the keys of the piano, her much smaller hands rested on his fingers, playing on top of him made her feel like she was doing it herself.

She was still learning, but her dad told her she was just as good as he was.

Her dad was a really good liar.

Smooth legs appeared on the left of their bodies as her mother stepped up on the piano bench, walking around her husband whilst turning his head with her fingers so he could watch her climb atop the piano and walk all over it.

The man's eyes never strayed from his wife and his fingers never left the keys as he greedily ate up her alluring appearance, temptation eventually getting hold of him, causing him to leave his daughter to play as he got to his feet. He extended his hand out to the beautiful woman he'd given his heart to, her fingers sliding into his as he pulled her off the edge of the piano, allowing her to tumble into his arms.

Their daughter could barely watch them over the piano, her eyes just making it over enough for her to see what was going on. She tried to keep up the same pace as her father had so that her parents would be able to continue moving with the music, but she found her fingers just didn't have the same effect with a piano that her father could evoke so effortlessly.

If her parents noticed her mistakes, they sure didn't show it. Seemingly enrapped with each other, their bodies glided in over one another's flesh so smoothly, like they'd been made to do it. It was effortless, it always had been.

The man let go of his wife, allowing her to twirl on her own with the lace dress she wore, dripping off of her flesh like threaded water. He'd always considered her above anyone he'd ever known, lucky enough that she'd even spared him a glance and it was times like this where he was sure that Earth was just not made for a woman like this.

The couple danced with only the moon to watch them, a night worthy of the hundreds of guards they killed to make it possible.