"So, um, you do have occasional visitors, then?" Chad asked, after a brief sip of the iced-tea.

"Some. Not many, though. As I said, it’s mostly people coming for training seminars, business meetings, the occasional party. Stuff like that. I guess they mostly come here ‘cause of the location. It is a nice location, you have to admit that." The floating glass drifted upwards, coming to a halt in midair, before tilting itself away from Chad, its contents consumed by an unseen mouth, as Donna took another drink. "And it’s quiet here, too; away from the hustle-and-bustle of the city down there." Chad couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected a slight edge to Donna’s voice as she referred to the town in the valley below.

"How do you—" Chad began, then took another drink to wet his throat which had suddenly become very dry. "I mean, how can you…you know, conduct business with people? I mean, don’t they…you know, don’t they have to meet with you face-to-face at some point? I mean, what do you do, wear a mask or something or what?"

Donna hesitated a moment before answering, and Chad regretted asking the question, and wished he had phrased it a little more tactfully. But when Donna spoke, her voice sounded more weary than offended. "I was wondering when that question would come up," she said. "Mostly I conduct my business over the phone. Phone and fax. But you’re right, at some point I do have to deal with people on a one-on-one basis. On those occasions, I put some clothes on, wear gloves and cover my face with liquid latex."

"Like your Halloween costume," Chad said, recalling Donna’s "unmasking" the week before.

"Right." The floating glass drifted upwards again, as Donna took another drink. "So far, nobody seems to have caught on, although I think they know there’s something different about me." She paused. "I mean, it’s adequate, it looks reasonably convincing, like in low light or if you don’t look at it too closely. But it’s very uncomfortable, so I don’t like to wear it very often; only when I absolutely have to."

Chad and Donna finished off the last of their iced tea in silence. Chad tried to think of something else to say when Donna suddenly spoke up. "Say," she said, setting her glass down on the coffee table. "You’ve only seen a small portion of this hotel. How—how would you like to see the whole place? I can give you a nice, private little guided tour. Would you like that?"

"Sure," Chad said, setting his glass down beside Donna’s. "That sounds good." He jumped slightly when the deep impressions in the easy-chair suddenly disappeared, as Donna rose to her feet. Chad then rose from the sofa as well, trying to guesstimate Donna’s location from the sound of her voice.

"I think you’ll like it," Donna’s voice said from somewhere a couple of feet in front of him. "It is a weird place, there’s no question about that. But it does have some interesting things about it, too. It’s really quite fascinating. Come on, I’ll show you," An unseen hand took hold of Chad’s. It felt so creepy to be suddenly grabbed from out of nowhere that way, but he was gradually getting used to it by now, so he didn’t flinch quite so much this time. The unseen hand tugged gently at his, leading him across the floor of the suite towards the door, Chad watching in wonder as ghostly footprints appeared and disappeared in the thick carpet before him as his unseen hostess guided him along. Suddenly, he slowed in his tracks.

"Say, um— Would you…" he began, trying to choose his words carefully. "That is, do you suppose you could…"

"What?" Donna asked.

"Could you…you know, put something on? So that I can see you?"

"Why?"

"Well, it’s a little-- I mean, you know, just so I have something to look at."

"Well… I’d rather not," Donna answered.

"Why?"

Donna hesitated slightly before answering. "I just don’t want to, that’s all. I wouldn’t feel comfortable; I’d feel self-conscious. It’s hard to explain, but…well, when I walk around nude, I don’t feel invisible; but if I put clothes on, I do. I’d always be aware of how I look to you: just a set of empty clothes walking around by themselves."

"I think I understand," Chad said gently. "But…still, just for now, couldn’t you…put something on? Just so I don’t accidentally bump into you or something?"

Donna let out a soft sigh. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable even discussing the issue. "Well, I don’t…" she hesitated. "I don’t think you’d like how it would look." She briefly recalled the events of the week before: Chad’s reaction to what appeared to be a headless dress. "And I don’t—I don’t want to scare you away." She gave a brief, forced laugh, as though to disguise her discomfort. "At least not until I get to know you better, anyway."

"Hey…hey," Chad said, reassuringly. "I don’t get scared off that easy, you know." Now it was his turn to give a brief, forced laugh. "I wouldn’t be here now if I did…would I?" He smiled pleasantly, reassuringly at the empty air, trying to imagine a face out there somewhere, where he could focus his attention. "Go on. Please? Just so I have something to talk to, besides air?"

"Well…" Donna said, after a long pause. "I—I guess I could put something on. But promise me you won’t freak out when you see me, okay? Promise?"

"I promise."

"Well…all right then. Wait right here, I’ll be right back in a couple of minutes."

Chad glanced down briefly to see the ghostly footprints in the carpet, walking away from him and heading into a small alcove in a back corner of the suite. He heard the sound of a closet door opening, followed by the faint rustling sounds of clothing being shuffled around.

A few minutes later, Donna’s voice called from the alcove. "Well," she said. "How’s this?" Chad looked up and saw a plain, long-sleeved blue dress float out from the alcove and across the floor, approaching him. In spite of himself, he jumped at the eerie sight, and his eyes widened. Despite his resolve not to stare, he found that he couldn’t do anything else. His first impression was that the dress was still on a hanger, and that Donna was carrying it out to show it to him. But as it approached, he realized that Donna was, in fact, already wearing the dress. It floated across the room towards him, and beneath it walked a pair of plain blue flats. It seemed to move hesitantly, almost timidly, as though it were afraid of being seen. Chad continued to stare at the dress, so obviously empty, and yet paradoxically filled with the curves of a woman who wasn’t there. Every little curve and contour perfectly filled out, as the dress moved and even breathed with the gentle movements and easy grace of a flesh-and-blood woman, the empty sleeves swinging in gentle arcs with each step taken. As it floated closer, Chad found himself staring down inside the dress, down the open collar. Although he tried not to react to the uncanny sight, the expression on his face nevertheless betrayed the amazement he felt.

Donna noticed this of course, and responded accordingly. The dress raised its empty sleeves, and immediately began to back away from Chad. "I knew it!" Donna’s voice said, from somewhere above the collar. "I knew I shouldn’t have put this on, I knew it! I look horrible, I know I do! I can tell just from the look on your face!" The dress started to turn and float away again. "I’ll take it off right now, before I give you nightmares!"

"No, no, Donna!" Chad said, stepping forward, reaching his hands out to the dress, gently placing them on its shoulders. Incredible! he thought briefly, as he reacted to the touch of slender shoulders beneath the seemingly-empty dress. "It’s okay, really!" he said, reassuringly, as he gently turned the empty dress around to face him. "You’re not horrible, you’re not!" he said to the empty space above the collar.

"But you didn’t see the look on your face just now," the empty space said. "I did. You were scared! You were scared sh—"

"I was just a little surprised for a moment, that’s all," Chad interrupted. "But it’s okay…really!" He said again, then hesitated. In spite of himself, he continued to stare at the empty collar of the dress, trying to remind himself that Donna was in there…somewhere.

Donna remained silent for a moment, then asked, in a very small voice: "Are you sure you’re okay with this?"

"Of course I’m sure."

"Well…" Donna said, after another pause. "All right then…if you’re sure you’re not too freaked out by it."

"It’s—it’s okay, really… I’m fine with it," Chad said, tearing his eyes away from the empty collar, and trying to focus them on the empty space above it where he knew Donna’s face must be.

Chad and the empty dress regarded each other in silence for another moment or two, before Donna finally spoke. "Well…all right, then…" she said. The dress reached out an empty sleeve, and as before, Chad felt an unseen hand clasp his own. By now familiar to the strange sensation, he didn’t flinch at all, and even gave the hand a gentle squeeze in return.

The two left the suite and walked down the hallway as Donna proceeded to give Chad a guided tour of the empty hotel, showing him all the bizarre, unusual features of the place. It came as no surprise to Chad that the hotel was every bit as bizarre and eccentric on the inside as it was on the outside. It was, as Donna herself admitted, a very weird building, yet it was, as she also said, strangely fascinating. As the private tour continued, Chad found himself strangely captivated by the strange old place. It had some of the most bizarre quirks and oddities that Chad ever seen. For one thing, the overall outlay of the building was like nothing Chad had ever seen before. It was laid out in nothing resembling a square or rectangular pattern. Rather, it seemed to be some weird polygonal shape, with hallways, corridors and disjointed wings going off in crazy, unexpected directions. The interior of the hotel resembled a giant, multilevel labyrinth, made all the more confusing by the occasional stairway leading nowhere, ending abruptly at a ceiling or a dead-end, doors opening onto blank walls or onto second- or third-floor drops to the outdoors, and hidden passageways and trap-doors leading to God-knew-where. It was confusing, perplexing and above all, overwhelming; there was no doubt in Chad’s mind that, if Donna were not there to guide him, he would have easily gotten lost in such a huge, confusing maze.

"So do you—um—" Chad began, looking all around him in the labyrinth, trying to get his bearings. "Since this was a hotel originally, do you still book guests here?"

"No," Donna replied. "I don’t have the staff to keep the rooms and provide all the other guest services, and I can’t do it all alone. I just rent out the meeting-rooms and ballroom downstairs and that’s it."

"That’s too bad. ‘Cause you know, if you re-opened this place, I think you could make a lot of money at it. I think people would come just for the novelty value, if nothing else."

"Mmm. Perhaps. Maybe." Donna replied, with an utter lack of enthusiasm. "Since I grew up here, I guess I’ve just come to think of this place as my home. I don’t much like the idea of a bunch of strangers running around, day and night." She turned a corner and descended a flight of stairs, with Chad following right at her side.

As the tour continued, Chad and his ghostly guide passed a large, heavy, curious-looking door that seemed somehow different from all the others they had passed. It had a tiny window in the center of it, made of thick, reinforced glass, the kind with wire inside. Chad tried to look through it, but he couldn’t see anything. He then realized that the glass had been painted over on the other side with black paint.

"Oh, what’s in here?" he asked, casually.

"Oh, that’s—um—" Donna said, as though taken suddenly by surprise. "That’s—that’s nothing; it’s not part of our tour. Pay no attention to it. Come on, let me—let me show you something really interesting over here," She gave a gentle but insistent tug on his hand, trying to lead him away from the strange door. But Brad remained firmly rooted to the spot.

"But what’s in there?" he asked again.

Donna gave a short, impatient sigh. "It’s—it’s nothing that would interest you. Come on, let’s go this way," Another, more insistent tug at his hand.

"No, wait a minute," Chad persisted, pulling his hand free. He tried to knob of the strange, heavy door; it was locked. "Boy, you must have something really good in there!" he said. "Come on, what is it? What’cha got in there?"

"It’s nothing, it’s just…" Another sigh, more exasperated than the first. "It’s just my father’s old lab, all right?" Donna said. "There’s nothing in there worth looking at."

"Really? It sounds interesting to me. Do you have the key? Let’s look around inside."

"No, Chad, I don’t—"

"Oh, come on…"

"I said, NO!!"

So unexpected was this sudden outburst from Donna, so abrupt was her change of mood and tone, that Chad was momentarily quite taken aback. For a brief moment, he simply stared, stunned, at the empty dress; its posture, with its empty sleeves folded in front, giving clear indication that this was a matter which should not be pursued further. Chad soon recovered and said, apologetically, "I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

But Donna interrupted, raising an empty sleeve. "No, no." she said. "It’s all right. Forget it." Donna seemed to be as surprised as Chad was at her sudden outburst. The empty sleeve of the dress waved, almost apologetically. "I—I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, it’s just …" The empty sleeve then motioned toward the large, heavy door. "That room is where it happened, where I…you know, where I got like this." The sleeves of the dress then gestured toward itself, Donna indicating her current unseen state.

"I’m—I’m sorry," Chad said again. "I didn’t know, I—"

"Forget it," Donna repeated, the empty sleeve now reaching up to the vacancy above the empty collar, as Donna rubbed her unseen forehead. "It’s just that—that room has some bad memories for me, which I’m still trying to deal with. It’s not easy—I don’t even remember what it looks like in there, and I don’t want to know. I don’t even like to think about it."

An awkward silence followed, while Chad tried to think of something to say to mitigate his tactlessness in pressing what was obviously an uncomfortable point for his unseen hostess.

Fortunately, his discomfort was spared by Donna, as she was the first to break the silence. "Well," she said. "Let’s not talk about it anymore. Come on," She tried to return to her earlier good spirits. "Let me—let me show you something down here that I think you’ll really like." The dress reached out a sleeve, and after a moment’s hesitation, Greg reached out his hand to it, where it was again gently grasped by unseen fingers.

Donna then led Chad down a long hallway, leading to a set of large double-doors at the end. Although she had earlier been very enthusiastic to show the room to Chad, she now seemed hesitant, almost a little timid now for even having mentioned it. At least, that was the way it seemed to Chad. He really couldn’t tell exactly what her mood was at any time, and was one additional reason why, in spite of all, he continued to feel uncomfortable in Donna’s presence, despite his growing attraction to her. He tried to listen closely and decipher the tone of her voice, and to interpret her body language to the extent it was revealed by her clothing, and at least estimate her current mood. At the moment, it seemed as though she were almost shy about revealing what lay behind the double doors. Repeatedly, she reached empty sleeves out to the doorknobs as though to open them, only to pull away again.

"This room," she began quietly. "Behind these doors is my special place, the one place in all the world where I can really, truly be myself…without having to skulk around like a phantom, afraid of being seen, afraid of people and having them be afraid of me." She hesitated a moment, then went on. "In here, I’m not the subject of my father’s crazy experiments; I’m not the ‘ghost’ of the haunted hotel; I’m not the mysterious recluse of the manor. In here, I can just be me, the real me: Donna Diablo."

So that’s her last name! Chad thought for a moment. Diablo… I wondered… Chad was sure he’d never heard the name before; and yet, there was something strangely familiar about the name…

He watched as an empty sleeve once again reached for the doorknob, and once again hesitated. Donna gave a light nervous laugh. "I don’t know why I’m telling you all this," she went on. "I never told anyone about it before…although," she paused. "I never had anyone to tell it to before." she added, soberly.

Chad reached up and gently placed a hand reassuringly on Donna’s shoulder. As if that were the only incentive she needed to forge ahead, she turned the knob and opened the doors wide, revealing a dark chasm beyond. Donna kicked her shoes off and stepped into the darkness.

"Take your shoes off, please," she told Chad. "They scratch the floor."

Chad did as he was instructed, leaving his shoes in the hallway outside, and stepped into the dark room, following the floating dress. He felt a cool, hard, smooth floor beneath his stockinged feet.

The dress floated to one side of the doorway, where Donna reached to a switch on the wall. She clicked on the switch, and instantly, the room exploded in light from a dozen fluorescent light fixtures. Chad immediately saw that he was in a very large room, with a shiny, polished wooden floor, mirrors on all four of the walls and a sort of hand-railing running the perimeter of the room slightly above waist-level. It was a dance studio.

"Well," the empty dress said, as it floated away from the light-switch and over to Chad’s side again. "This is it, my special place, where I can indulge my dream, my passion. It’s what I live for, what I’ve always wanted to do, more than anything else in the world: Dancing."

Instantly, Chad recalled the night of the Halloween party, and how extraordinarily graceful his dance partner had been. He’d been struck by this fact at the time, and remembered speculating that she may have been a professional dancer. Now he understood how she had acquired such remarkable skills; they were of a caliber that could only have come from countless hours of practice.

The dress floated away from Chad and into the center of the room, where it reached out its sleeves as if to embrace the entire room. The dress then whirled around and around, as though dancing to music that only Donna could hear.

"Father built this studio for me a long time ago. He knew how much I loved to dance. When I was a little girl—and I mean very little, before—" Immediately, the whirling movements ceased. "Before this happened—I—" she giggled, as though about to make an embarrassing confession. "I wanted to be a ballerina when I grew up." Another embarrassed giggle. "Silly, isn’t it?"

"No, no, I don’t think that’s silly. I think that’s great. I mean, if that’s what you wanted to do, there’s nothing wrong with that."

The dress shrugged. "Anyway," Donna went on. "When I was a little girl, I was always dancing around the house. Indoors, outdoors, in the kitchen, in the hallways, in the gardens, everywhere. And then—well…after this happened…" The dress floated slowly across the floor, to one of the mirrored walls, where it stopped and reached its sleeves out, as Donna rested her hands on the bar. From her position, Chad assumed Donna was looking at her own lack of a reflection in the mirror; yet he also had the eerie sensation that she was looking at him in the mirror as well. He had no way of knowing which of these was true.

"After this happened, I guess Father felt so guilty about it that—he had this studio built, so I could practice in private." Donna fell silent, and Chad felt compelled to approach her, yet something inside him told him not to, as he couldn’t think of anything to say. He decided to keep his distance, for the time being.

"I used to think," she went on, quietly, haltingly. "I used to think that—he was just trying to bribe me with this. You know, to make up for what he did. Then I thought…" her voice dropped so low that, had it not been for the excellent acoustics of the room, Chad wouldn’t have been able to hear her at all. "Then I thought he only built it to—to keep me out of the way, so he wouldn’t have to look at me, and to keep others from looking at me, too. ‘Out of sight, out of mind…’"

Another long silence followed. Chad began to feel extremely uncomfortable, almost as though he were an intruder, invading someone’s personal space. Should I really be hearing all this? he wondered. He tried to think of something he could say or do, but anything that came to mind somehow seemed so inadequate to the situation.

"But…" Donna went on. "I guess… Father was just trying to show love in the only way he could. He was never really… He was always rather cold, hard to really get close to…" An empty sleeve raised up, then descended, as an unseen fist gently drummed the handrail. "But I guess he did the best he could." Another long silence. "I never knew my mother…" She said, her voice was barely above a whisper. The dress raised an empty sleeve again, to the space above the open collar, in a movement similar to that of a person rubbing a cheek.

"Anyway," Donna went on at last, her voice becoming more positive in tone. "From then on, I spent almost all my time in this studio. I used to dance in here by the hour, to all kinds of music. I felt completely free in here, since I didn’t have to worry about being seen by anyone."

The tone in Donna’s voice indicated to Chad that it was safe for him to ask the next question that occurred to him. He stepped further into the room, approaching the floating dress. "Wasn’t it—um—wasn’t it, you know, kind of hard for you? I mean, with all these mirrors around, constantly reminding you of…?" His voice trailed off.

The dress turned to face him. Chad immediately felt Donna’s eyes on him, even though he couldn’t see them. Immediately, he began to feel uncomfortable again. Uh-oh, he thought. I stepped in it again!

To his surprise, however, Donna’s response was quite pleasant. "You’re right," she said. "It was difficult for me at first. I mean," the dress raised its sleeves, indicating the four walls. "Just look around! Everywhere I looked was a reminder that—that I wasn’t really here anymore!" She let out a laugh, somewhat nervously, then went on. "So, yes, it was a little hard at first. But then, I discovered something interesting, something I never expected. All these mirrors actually helped me to accept myself and my condition."

"Really." Chad said, surprised. "How?"

"Well…it didn’t happen overnight, but just…looking around and not seeing myself, day after day as I practiced, just brought me right up against the reality of it; brought it right into my face, so I couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t deny it anymore. Eventually, I just reached the point where I finally thought, ‘Okay, this is it, this is me, this is the way I am. I’m going to have to learn to live with it, one way or another.’" She paused and let out another brief, nervous laugh. "As a matter of fact, if it hadn’t been for all these mirrors, I might have stayed in denial about this for years, maybe even forever. But…well, having them here, in front of me, I had no choice but to just accept the reality."

The blue dress began to whirl about the empty dance floor again, while Chad stood by and watched, spellbound. It was like watching a ghost ballet dancer. It was eerie…and yet strangely captivating, as well.

"And you know," Donna said. "Being invisible actually helped me improve as a dancer too, believe it or not."

"Really?" Chad asked, bewildered. "How’d it do that?"

"Well…it’s a little hard to put into words exactly…but when I practice, I don’t see me in the mirror, I only see a set of leotards. So I can be completely objective and critical in my judgments. You know: Is my back straight? Is that knee straight? Am I holding my stomach in? Are my feet in the right position. All the things I have to constantly check for. It’s like, it’s not me in the mirror that I’m judging, it’s just a body, an instrument. You know what I mean?"

"I think so," Chad replied. "So you…so you…do wear something when you practice?"

"Well, of course!" Donna laughed, as though it were something that should be plainly obvious. "You can’t practice dance without leotards! I certainly can’t!"

"But I thought you felt self-conscious about wearing clothes."

"Well…normally, that’s true…but…well, with dancing, it’s different." She gave another light laugh, then fell silent as she saw the look on Chad’s face.

"Would you," Donna said quietly, her tone almost suggesting that she had read his mind. "Would you…like me to dance for you?"

Chad smiled and nodded eagerly. "Yes, I would," he said.

"Okay," she said simply. "There’s a chair over there in the corner. Have a seat while I go and change."

Chad did as he was instructed. He turned and walked to a corner, where he pulled up a plain wooden chair and sat down. Meanwhile, the blue dress floated across the room to a side-door, which led, as Donna explained, to a changing-room. She opened the door and stepped inside.

As Chad sat, waiting, another question occurred to him. "So how did you learn to dance, anyway?" he asked. "Did you have private dance teachers or what?"

"Are you kidding?" Donna’s voice called out from the side-door. "What do you think a dance-teacher would do if she saw me?" She laughed, but her laughter contained a slightly bitter quality to it. "No, what I did was I watched instructional films. 16mm films that Father bought for me. Then videos, later on. I watched them religiously, over and over and over again, until I practically memorized them. After that, it was just practice, practice, practice. I pretty much taught myself."

"So, you never…You never went to school then? Or college? Or anything?"

"Nope," Donna answered. "Father tutored me himself. When he wasn’t too busy with his experiments, that is. And I read a lot. Father had a huge library, on all different subjects. Science, mathematics, medicine, metaphysics, Latin, philosophy… I read them all, even though I never thought of myself as the scholarly type. Anyway, here I am."

Chad looked up and blinked twice (but didn’t jump this time, as he was finally beginning to get used to all this) and stared with widened eyes. From the changing-room emerged a full-body, long-sleeved cobalt-blue leotard and a matching set of tights, strolling out into the center of the dance floor. Chad’s mouth immediately went dry. The sight was eerie… and yet it was strangely sexy as well. Because, with the exception of missing head and hands, the picture before him was of a normal, whole (and very shapely, Chad noted with pleasure) woman. Immediately, Chad’s heart began to pound, as the lithe, spandex-clad form approached him.

Donna’s movements seemed a bit halting, as though she still wasn’t entirely comfortable about being seen by Chad this way. But by now, Chad was no longer shocked or frightened by Donna’s unusual appearance; in fact, he now found himself quite enchanted with her, and even aroused by her. This fact was becoming plainly evident from the look on his face, which Donna noted. Satisfied that Chad was sufficiently at ease at the sight she presented, Donna began to relax and she walked further out into the studio.

The empty leotard and tights strolled over to a large console located in the corner. "Would you believe Father even paid for this sound system?" she said, the leotard turning back briefly to face Chad. It was then that he noticed the large, expensive loudspeakers placed in each corner of the large room.

"I don’t even want to know what it must have cost," Donna said, as she looked through a rack of cassettes and CDs kept in a rack near the console, plucking out an occasional favorite. "But it must have been plenty!"

"So what kind of music do you like to dance to?" Chad asked, watching in amazement at the way the discs and cassettes seemed to just float at the empty ends of the leotard’s sleeves.

"Oh, I can pretty much dance to anything," Donna answered. "But I guess I like classical the best. Light classical, that is. But I have a huge collection of other kinds of music too; just about every kind of music there is." The sleeves of the leotard set down the discs on the console, then moved over a collection of buttons and switches, as Donna powered up the sound system. The big loudspeakers in the corners clicked and hummed simultaneously, as the amplification system came to life.

"Do you like Rap or Hip-Hop or anything like that?" Chad asked, drawing upon his own limited frame of reference.

"Eccchhh!" Donna made a gagging noise, raising an empty sleeve to the area near the open collar of the leotard. Though he couldn’t see the specific details of the movement, Chad immediately recognized the gesture as Donna sticking a finger down her throat. "Please," she said. "I said I like music!"

She picked up one disc, inserted it into the player and pressed the "play" button. She then quickly dashed out to the middle of the floor, where she immediately froze in position, waiting for the music to begin.

"I hope you like Tchaikovsky," she said. (Chad didn’t say anything, but the name actually meant nothing to him. When it came to musicians or composers, anything before the Beatles, he didn’t have a clue about.) The music boomed out over the speakers, and Donna virtually exploded in a sudden flurry of movement, like a bird suddenly taking flight. The blue leotards literally flew about the dance floor, almost as though they really were empty and nearly weightless, fluttering in mid-flight as though caught in a whirlwind. Chad blinked and his eyes opened wide in amazement. While he was certainly no expert on the subject, he found himself absolutely awestruck at Donna’s obvious natural talent. Watching her almost unbelievably graceful movements now, Chad had no doubt that, had circumstances been different, Donna could have easily enjoyed a successful career as a professional dancer. Her movements almost seemed to defy gravity, and, with her invisibility, it almost seemed to Chad as though he were watching a magical spirit, rather than a human being. He had to keep reminding himself that this was an otherwise ordinary, flesh-and-blood woman.

Yet at the same time, Chad realized that she was anything but ordinary. Not just because of her invisibility, but also because of all her other qualities that Chad was now becoming aware of. There was so much to admire about her, he realized: her obvious talent; her singleness of purpose in pursuing an art that was so obviously within her, in spite of the obvious obstacles she faced; and her tenacity in trying to live at least some kind of a normal life, in spite of the loneliness and solitude brought on by her unique situation. As Chad pondered these thoughts and watched Donna’s lithe and graceful movements in the private recital she now performed for him, he began to realize that the emotions he’d felt for her the week before were not merely a temporary infatuation. He was, he now realized, definitely falling in love with her.

And, to his surprise, Chad also became aware of something else: He realized that this was the first woman he’d ever been attracted to for reasons other than her appearance. All of his life, Chad was a "typical" man: The sole criterion he tended to use when judging the women he pursued was their appearance. Those who were, in his opinion, "hot-looking," he went after; those who weren’t, he ignored. This was the first woman he’d ever gotten involved with without even knowing what she actually looked like. This sudden realization surprised and puzzled him.

The music drew to a close, and Donna concluded her performance. When silence at last fell upon the room and Donna held her final pose for a moment, Chad immediately applauded her. She then took a quick bow and skipped over to him.

"Well?" she said, out of breath. "What did you think?"

"That was great!" Chad said, enthusiastically. "Really great! I mean, I don’t know nothing about dancing, but you were incredible! Really, I’ve never seen anything like it!"

Donna was silent for a moment, and the leotards seemed to tense up. "You mean you’ve never seen a set of leotards dancing around by themselves before," Again, a slightly defensive tone returned to her voice. "Is that it?"

Chad immediately rose from his chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, come on," he said. "I didn’t mean that; I meant you, the way you moved, the way you…you know, the way you leaped in the air & spun around and everything. It was like watching a real pro, like on TV or something."

The shoulders beneath the leotards relaxed again at his words. "Thanks," she said, her voice becoming soft again. "It wasn’t bad, I suppose. I just wish I could have had real instruction. You know, formal training. I could be so much better by now if I had."

It was then that Chad noticed something interesting. Although he had vowed not to stare at Donna so much anymore, as he knew it made her uncomfortable, he nevertheless found himself doing so right now. For in the space above the leotard where Donna’s head should be, Chad discovered that he could see…very faintly…a slight, semitransparent sheen, in the vague outline of a finely-sculpted human face. It was an eerie sight…and yet indescribably beautiful, as well. The face almost looked like a crystal mask, except that it was mobile.

"Donna?" he said quietly. "I—I think I can see you…I can see your face…sort of…"

"Oh… Yes, I… I know what that is, that’s perspiration. Here, I’ll get a towel and wipe it off…" She started to turn away from Chad, but he quickly reached down and took her hand.

"There’s no hurry," he said, gently drawing her back to him; she put up no resistance.

Chad and the crystalline face continued to silently gaze at each other for countless minutes, gradually drawing closer to one another. Chad looked into the ovoid spaces in the faintly-defined face, where he knew Donna’s eyes should be. He suddenly became aware of strange emotions within himself, something quite unlike his normal reactions when in the presence of an attractive woman. Instead of being preoccupied with his own normal, selfish interests, Chad now felt something very tender and protective towards Donna. It was something new for him, and a little unsettling…and yet, it was not unpleasant.

Although Donna seemed a bit self-conscious at first when she realized Chad could see her, she began to relax when she saw his reaction to the sight. It wasn’t a look of shock or fear or revulsion, which were the only looks that she felt she could ever expect from anyone; this was something new and altogether different, something she couldn’t quite define… As with Chad, it felt vaguely unsettling to her, and she wasn’t quite sure she knew how to handle it…and yet, it somehow felt right.

Chad and the rapidly-fading crystalline face continued to draw closer to one another, almost as though without conscious will on the part of either of them. Chad reached his arms out to hold the shiny blue leotards before him, pulling them closer to himself. Likewise, the sleeves of the leotard reached out and pulled Chad closer to itself as well. Chad and Donna drew closer and closer together, guided by instinct, until, just at the last, Chad closed his eyes and his lips made soft contact with Donna’s. The pair remained this way for an untold time, Chad tenderly cradling the slender, spandex-clad form in his arms, his lips kissing a semitransparent face, now gradually fading into oblivion as the perspiration evaporated.

After an eternity of pleasure, Chad finally spoke. "Say, um… Donna…" he began, hesitantly. "I—I wonder if I could…ask you something…something personal…"

Chad felt the body underneath the leotard tense up slightly. Donna paused for a moment, before replying. "What is it?" she replied, cautiously, as though expecting the worst.

"Well, that is…I was wondering…" he looked up again, and this time his eyes held steady at the ovoid space in the air where he knew Donna’s eyes. "Do you…have any plans for Thanksgiving?" he asked at last.

Just before the last bit of perspiration evaporated, taking with it the last visible trace of Donna’s face, Chad detected a widening smile growing across it. "No," the vanishing, smiling, face said. "Not a thing."