The Dance

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to things that never were, but could have been, but for one second in time.

A dark night, a crowded dance hall. She stood by the wall, sipping her glass of punch, looking around the room. She sighed softly, thinking she never should have come. Her friend had begged her, since she was dateless, and she had gone along with it. Now her friend was off talking with some guy, being asked for dance after dance, while she stood alone, watching. She set the empty glass down and took a seat along the same cold stone wall.

The room was decorated beautifully. Light blue and pale soft yellow streamers draped from rafter to rafter, each table holding balloons in sets of three, all in soft pastel colors. Around the bandstand were potted flowers, bluebells, lilacs, pale yellow and pink roses, their sweet scent filling the air, perfuming it even over the bodies crammed into the room. She rose and wandered past a couple at a table, they didn't even notice her passing as she squeezed through the gap between their chairs and the door. They continued their soft whispers and giggles as the door slammed shut.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she stood there, her bare back against the cold rough bricks. She had worn her favorite dress. It was black, and reached her ankles. A slit went up one side reaching high on her outer thigh, the back low-cut to just above her rear. The front was low-cut enough to show generous cleavage, but not so low it left nothing to the imagination. The dress hugged her figure, but gave little protection against the chill of the night. She hung her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks and ruin her makeup. She shook her head hard, telling herself she would not cry. Standing straight, she started walking back towards the door, and returned to the hall. She took her place once more in a seat by the wall, far from the band and the couples dancing.

He stood over her, as she looked at the floor between her feet. Clearing his throat he startled her, her eyes rising to look at his face, and her breath hitched in her throat. He gazed down at her with ice blue eyes, his hair the color of spun gold. He held his hand to her, without saying a word, asking for the dance. She slowly held her hand to him, her tiny had engulfed in his larger one.

He led her out to the center of the dance floor, it seemed the crowd parted for them as they walked. Soft slow music played in the background, and they embraced as others had before them, spinning and gliding along the floor to the music. Her eyes looked straight ahead, landing on his tie, a deep gray blue color against the white of his shirt, and the gray of his suit. She inhaled his scent, her body very sensitive to the touch of his hands on her waist as they danced. She was nervous, and a little frightened, she had wanted to dance so badly, but had not expected it to be him who asked.

She had known him for a while, and shared a few hours with him and others each day. She was intimately familiar with the back of his head, as that was all she dared to look at while around him. His voice echoed in her mind at night, in her dreams while she slept. Now with his arms around her, his body so close, would she dare to meet his eyes. Eyes that enchanted her from afar.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she raised her eyes. She saw the knot of his tie, the collar of his shirt and jacket. She could feel his eyes on her head, and trembled inside. Her eyes continued their slow trek north, landing on his throat. So many nights had she dreamed of planting kisses along that neck. Next was his chin. She saw it slightly tilted downward, and knew he was watching her. Those lips, ones she had wanted to kiss for so long. Finally she gathered as much courage as she could, her gaze remaining on his lips a few seconds longer. Then her soft green eyes met his. A smile lazily spread across his lips. She could barely breathe. He slowly pulled her body closer to his, their eyes locked in a deep look. That look spoke more words than she could ever manage to.

She felt his heart beating against her, and trembled. As the song ended, he slowly leaned in close to her, so close she could feel his warm breath over her forehead as he moved. She didn't dare move, she was so frightened she would discover it was all a dream. Closer and closer their bodies pressed. Her head arched up to hold onto that gaze, as his face hovered over hers. Before she could breathe, in the second of her heart's pounding, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly and oh so gently. She trembled against him, the pounding of his heart matching hers, and she finally knew. He had felt the same.