Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Valentines Day everyone. I hope you and your sweetie have a wonderful, sensual evening planned.
In the meantime; here is my entry for the IS IT GETTING HOT IN HERE blogfest, hosted by Hope Roberson and Cassie Mae. Going through all my writings I discovered almost no kissing scenes that do not lead to sex, so I had to write one for the blog hop. Its too long, and I didn't have a chance to edit or cut it down (although I don't remember seeing a word count to this blogfest). But its clean :)
* * *
Back and forth they swayed to the waltz. Hip to hip, cheek to cheek. Then he signaled a turn, and Lynn stepped back and allowed Ben to lead her through the expected sequence of turns. As she settled against him again, Lynn surveyed the rest of the dancers.
They all laughed, or kissed, or smiled through animated conversation as they performed their own routines under the glitter ball. Lynn's feet expertly performed the three step pattern as Ben wove them through the crowd, dipping, forward, reverse, side step, and now another spin and change of direction.
She brushed her right hand across his back and stepped naturally into the spin as his meaty hand found her palm. Inset of a the double twirl she expected, he lowered her arm, tugged her left hand across her torso, and snuggled her against him in a cuddle wrap.
“What's wrong honey?”
Ben's warm, moist breath against her neck drew a small smile to her lips. She remembered younger days when she would have wiggled invitingly against his jeans, the dance merely foreplay for later. Now she looked around to see if the other couples were laughing at the older couple's public display.
“Nothing,” she answered, hoping the fading smile was still in her voice.
He dropped her left hand, took a jaunty half step back, and spun her til she was giggling with dizziness as the song ended. Her legs trembled a bit as he escorted her back to their darkened table, and once again she was grateful she exchanged the red strap heels for sensible pumps. She didn't want anyone to mistake her stumbling for drunkenness.
“Another Martini,” the slim young waitress queried.
Lynn shook her head and patted under her coat in the empty chair for her handbag. She could feel a sheen of sweat forming across her forehead and under her eyes and she wanted to check her makeup.
“Sure thing doll,” Ben countered. “Make mine a double, and add an extra olive to my wife's”
Lynn looked up in time to catch the wink he gave the waitress. The waitress smiled and winked back, and Lynn nearly chocked on her embarrassment.
"What,” he asked innocntly.
She located the bag and immediately pulled out her compact. Ben picked up his glass, swirled the melting ice around and raised it to his lips. It didn't hide the smirk on his thin lips.
Lynn snapped open the lid, checked her face, and aggressively rubbed the puff in the powder. “You're triple her age.” Lynn dabbed the tan powder across her forehead, dipping the mirror slightly so she could see her husband as she circled under her eyes and the creases of her nostrils.
His grin crinkled the laugh lines under his eyes. “Not even half her age I'd bet. You see the crows feet under her eyes?”
“I didn't look at her that closely.”
Lynn stuffed the compact back into her purse and debated a touch up to her lips. She liked the pinkish color the waitress wore, but such girly colors were not for mature women in the late stages of menopause. Lynn decided the dull red she'd chosen would do only wear off again on the napkin, or her glass.
“Really, Ben, we don't need one more round,” she admonished as she sat up.
She didn't have time to do more than gasp her astonishment before his hands were cupping her cheeks, pulling her face closer to his. Then his lips were against hers, his gray mustache tickling her nose, and suddenly she felt 35 again.
She leaned into his kiss with her eyes closed, her mind adrift in the all the kisses they'd shared over the years. Anniversaries, Valentines Day's, birthdays, days that were only special because they spent them in each others arms at the beach, picknicking in the meadow, or curled up on the couch watching a favorite movie. She forgot the lounge, the music, the young couples in love.
She remembered deliciousness of his kisses, and how long it'd been since they shared anything more than a peck to the lips, cheek or forehead. When he pulled back she didn't even have the breath to sigh a protest, but her lips remain upturned with a smile and despite the tears blurring her vision.
“Aw; someday I hope this is my husband and I,” their waitress said, placing the drinks in front of them.
Lynn's smile grew so big it hurt her face, but she didn't even want to wipe it off. Ben's answering grin made her blush.
“No charge,” the waitress said, patting Ben's shoulder as he reached for his wallet. “Happy Valentines Day.”