A poem about secret identities

This is a cowrite I did with a friend of mine a while back about two strangers meeting at a masquerade ball and so forth. Enjoy.

(man)
Helen of Troy -the face that launched
a thousand ships.
I am mesmerized;
around me, couples dance
and sway, hiding behind
their masks and costumes.
I don't see them.
There is only you,
your golden hair piled
high in intricate braids,
one shoulder bared
in the classical
Grecian gown that clings
to your slender frame.
Luminous blue eyes
stare candidly at me
from behind your
Viennese mask,
your enigmatic half-smile
provocative and inviting.
You are beautiful, vulnerable-
and dangerous - all at once.
I notice now
that your beauty is not
lost on the other predators.
I move.

(woman)
I see you walking towards me,
your white mask shimmering in the light,
as brightly as a white papier mache mask can.
Your cape whips behind you,
flowing,
as you stroll your way across the room,
dodging in and out through the crowd,
working your way to me,
like some kind of phantom.
You walk up to me,
not saying a word
and hold out your hand.
Concealed eyes pierce right through me,
like a hot knife,
slicing into cold butter,
melting it instantly.

(man)
The room spins around us;
I'm not even sure
we're touching the floor.
We are surrounded
by a hundred other dancers
on the polished hardwood,
but I see only
your sapphire blue eyes.
You are soft and warm,
and you have me right
where you want me.
I am lost in those eyes now, hopelessly.
Somehow I'm light on my feet
as I whirl around the ballroom.
I will follow where you lead.

(woman)
I take your hand in mine
as we walk to the ballroom floor,
and you pull me into your embrace.
Dark green eyes stare,
entrancing me
as you twirl me around the room.
I barely even notice our audience,
beginning to form around us.
Hell, I barely feel the floor,
as you spin me to and fro,
throwing and dipping me like a master.
As the song abruptly ends,
you pull me hard against you,
and I feel my breath catch,
begging for air.
I quickly grab your hand
and sneak you from the room,
one thing on my mind.

(man)
We sneak out of the dance;
you lead me by the hand
to your room, right here in this hotel.
Not a word is spoken; none is
needed as our dance
escalates to the next level.
Slowly, sensuously,
your long, slender fingers
peel off my costume.
Your smile is cool,
self-possessed,
until I am nearly
out of my mind with need.
Those teasing fingers
reach up and unclasp
your golden braids,
and your hair tumbles in
platinum waves to
your shoulders.
The blue Grecian gown
slides off your body
and swirls around your ankles
like sea foam.
You wear nothing underneath.
and my breath catches in my throat.

(woman)
I see the amazement in your eyes
as my dress falls to the floor,
my blonde hair framing
this feather-adorned mask.
I just stand there,
admiring your glistening body,
staring deep into those emerald eyes.
It's dark,
just dark enough,
the moon illuminating
through the window,
painting the room with its pale blue hue,
and staining your skin.

(man)
You are a sculpture
of golden beauty, your bronze skin
like velvet on steel,
pale only where the sun
couldn't reach.
You dance into the circle of my arms.
We remove each other's mask,
truly naked now.
I carry you to your bed,
and your long legs
embrace my waist
as you let me in.
Our bodies fit together perfectly.
You bury your face in my shoulder,
and your soft, urgent cries
tell me your veneer of cool
is gone; now you are
molten heat and wanton need.
The cries become screams,
urging me on in my quest to please you.
Sharp fingernails rake my back,
like claws, but I don't feel the pain.

(woman)
I arch my back,
wrapping my legs around you,
and scream muffled cries into your neck.
We move in rhythm together,
feeding off each other,
and into each other.
No longer are we two entities
but one being of pure energy,
and skin,
entangled in the deadliest of dances.
I grip your back
digging my nails into you,
and creep ever closer
to the edge of this explosion.
With one surge we collapse together,
marinating in the moment.
Skin against skin,
in the heat of the night,
that everstaring moon illuminating our bodies
like a spotlight in the dark.

(man)
Slowly we come down,
two feathers floating from
the mountain peak,
too spent now even to speak.
Your face in the pale moonlight,
softened by the silver-blue glow,
is the face
of a woman-child. I stare
almost hungrily, trying to
memorize you.
A Mona Lisa half-smile
tells me that I pleased you.
I kiss your long, dark lashes
and curl up against you before
drifting off to sleep.

(woman)
I open my eyes and gently smile
as I watch you sleep
slowly breathing in and out
as you lay peacefully beside me.
The sun shines through the balcony window,
dancing across the white sheets,
and painting our bare bodies
with its orange hue.
I sit up on the side of the bed
golden ringlets caressing my naked shoulders
casting shadows on the floor.
I pull on my dress
and grab a pen and piece of paper,
jotting something down
and set it on my now vacant pillow.
I carefully lean over you
and place a kiss on your lips,
savoring it.
Quickly I walk out the door,
looking back at you just before closing it
and find a smile creeping across my lips.
I turn, shutting the door behind me
and head down the carpeted hallway,
accompanied by the memory of you.

(man)
I am half awake when I hear the engine
rumbling in the parking lot.
My eyes open; you're not here.
I roll off the bed and pull back the curtains.
I see that big, powerful Chevy truck
pulling away.
Somehow, I know it's you even before I see
the driver's golden curls.
I smile; that is so you.
Then the smile fades. You're gone;
you didn't even say goodbye.
Or did you?
There's a note on your pillow:
"Thank you. Next year? C."
I press the paper to my lips,
realizing that I don't
even know your name...