A Dance

“Would....would you like to...to dance?” Mark asked, equally hopeful and apprehensive. If Trudy said yes he’d be afraid of doing something stupid to ruin things. No, not like step on her toes. He was rather confident of his dancing ability. He just didn’t trust himself to be the gentleman anymore. They had been seeing each other for three months and his dreams from that first night out were filled with her beautiful baby-blue eyes, her dark honey-colored, vanilla-scented hair and her flawless, creamy skin. He had wanted to revel in all of her from the very beginning.

But he knew he had to take it slow and easy, not only for his sake but mostly for hers. He still smiled remembering how nervous she had been on their first date. Even before stepping out of her house she had blurted out “I don’t have sex.”  His first reaction had been to retort  “Ever?” but he had known exactly what she meant.

He had been out with enough of these...what did his cousin Cindy call them? Oh, yes, Sex-in-the-city-tramps. It mattered not that they lived in a rural little town either. Every woman he met seemed to want sex before they said hello. He had been startled, bewildered, horrified at the aggressiveness of these ...dare he call them ladies? Being married to Patty for over twenty years had shielded him from all that. Her sudden death had shoved him unceremoniously into that world completely unaware and helpless as a puppy in mid-morning traffic.

Trudy had been a breath of fresh, and wonderfully old-fashioned, air. He desperately wanted to inhale all of her into him. He gulped as he stared at her in the candle light. He mustn’t think of such things now. Oh boy, it was difficult with her looking at him like that. Her eyes looked like crystalline pools at the base of a perfect waterfall. He got the sudden urge to rip off his clothes and dive in.

But what if she said no? What if she didn’t want to dance, to be touched, to be held in his arms? That would be even worse. It would mean she still felt unsure about him, uncertain of his intentions and possibly afraid of going further. They were friends now and she seemed happy with that, but wouldn’t more be better? Dare he ask for more? Would she be ready? Would she ever?

She had been married to Charlie as long as he had been to Patty. She was still heartbroken over his equally sudden death. It was this shared tragedy that brought them together in the first place. She had been friends with Patty and he with Charlie though neither of them knew the other until Cindy asked them both for a favor.

That Cindy! What a little match-maker she turned out to be. She had been instrumental in the sudden joy Mark felt every morning when he awoke, she and her meddling, sisterly love for him. And to think, he fought tooth and nail to get out of taking Trudy out that first night. He dreaded it like the plague and now he couldn’t imagine a day without at least stopping by the library during his  break to just say hello to Trudy.  Life was strange like that.

He held his hand out awaiting her reply. She simply stared at his hand. She always stared at his hands. He wondered why that was. He didn’t see anything wrong with them...unless... Was it the wedding ring he still wore? She still wore hers. Did that mean something? He was certain it did. Too bad he didn’t have a clue what it could be.

“Trudy? Did you hear me?” he asked quietly. She looked up and the way she gazed at him made the breath catch in his throat. She smiled. Butterflies erupted into flight in his chest. If he didn’t know better he’d swear he was in love. Perhaps he didn’t know better.

“Yes, I’d like to dance,” she said after an eternity. “ It’s been a while. My niece’s wedding I think.” she added thoughtfully.

She placed her soft, warm hand in his and they stood. He led her to the dance floor. His hand at the small of her back sent tingles up his arm and dispersed into a thousand points of light within him. She turned into his arms with her hand brushing against his collar. Damn that collar! If it wasn’t for that he’d feel her touch directly on his skin. He wrapped his arm around her waist. Dare he pull her closer? She moved towards him with no encouragement. His heart skipped a beat. His hand inched up her back until he felt her bare skin. Were dress designers intent on killing him and his resolve to be a gentleman? Sure seemed like it.

Her silky hair brushed against his chin. He bent slightly down to let the tantalizing sensation happen again. Patty had been taller than Trudy and her riotous curls had always tickled him. He remembered it fondly. Trudy’s simply left a sensual trail long after contact. Even at this safe distance, bodies resolutely not touching, he could feel the heat from hers. Or was it from him?

“I like this song,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath caused ripples to run down his spine setting a fire somewhere along the way. Only then did he remember to breath. Her hips swayed minutely closer. Their thighs touched, her chest brushed against his. Delightful torture, that’s what dancing is. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. His hands were not obeying him at all and he couldn’t stop them to save his life. He could die this way and he’d be perfectly content.

“Mark?” she said pulling back and looking up at him.

He merely stared longingly into those crystalline blue eyes and it burst out of him before he could stop himself. “I love you, Trudy.” he murmured, half astonished, half scared to death. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon or if I’m scaring you but...God help me. I love you. I dream about you all the time. I want you near me, with me always, forever. Please don’t hate me. I’m too old to play games and life’s too short not to take a chance.”

He stared at her fearful yet wishing for a miracle. Those crystalline pools seemed in danger of overflowing suddenly. To his astonishment she went up on tip toes and kissed him, a sweet, soft-as-air kiss but one he felt down to his toes and back again. She pulled back and stared up at him looking as amazed as he did.

His heart danced the Irish jig in his chest and he wasn’t even Irish. “Trudy...” he said before recapturing her lips and kissing her passionately. He held her fast against him and she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer still. If he didn’t know better he would swear she loved him too.

Oh, yeah, he really didn’t know any better.