His firm hand pressed the small of her back quieting her instantly. He placed it with perfect, crisp, weight, guiding her away from flames her temper just ignited and threatened to fan. Her bottom cringed and her body shivered with gooseflesh and secret knowledge. Both felt the millisecond of stiff rebellion that froze then trembled through her. The salsa lilt that filled the room as the band opened a new set, gave him an almost perfect rolling wave to use to lift and lead her away from table chatter trouble and on to the dance floor. She let her body answer his. “Look at me,” his growl perceptible over the rush of blood in her ears and the frenetic music that blanketed the whole room, only because her shoulder pulled up hard against the sudden cringe against his hot breath on her neck and forced her mind to pick the words out by instinct.
She couldn’t obey. Instead she buried her face in his festive tie, wishing the lapels of his dark jacket would stay propped and keep her face forever hidden from everyone.
It was the music, the gleefully oblivious progression of the salsa, that gave her no choice. Natural steps took her back, lead her around, and while his one hand still held firm on that one most meaningful spot, the other gave its hold on her shoulder over to his elbow so that fingers found and took ownership of her chin.
“Look at me now!’
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Reluctant to face the awful image of herself in is eyes, she tilted her face up to his obediently, but her eyes rebelled. She managed only momentary eye contact, able to hold his gaze only long enough to find the deep glowing light there that belonged only to her, and then disgust with herself forced her eyes to close again.
“You’re going to be when we get home.”
She pressed her face back into his chest and nodded her head. She knew. She was finally freed. It was done. She’d felt it coming all day. The witch that just escaped her mouth had been bouncing off the walls like a child on a sugar high, barely kept in check for hours. All day she’d been nibbling the sickly sweet marshmallow of fatigue and frustration, its effect, a cloying barely perceptible headache, a fully loaded temper clip and a trigger worn thinner than a hair.
He pulled her closer and his right hand slipped lower and squeezed. Her whole body relaxed, and for the rest of the entire 60 minute set they danced. Salsa, waltz, C&W line, C&W /blend polka, waltz, salsa, waltz, line dance, waltz, tango, waltz, waltz, waltz, waltz, salsa, salsa, salsa and then super salsa ended by longest slow waltz.
He’d taken her on to the dance floor to burn off steam. She felt lighter and breathless, her body coated with a fine film of sweat. Laughter during recovery from the hour’s exertion was the only energy left. The reassuring strength of his embrace, augmented the athletic ritual of the dance, and consumed the poison of the day and totally damp the inflammatory venom that had been fuel to the flames he’d had to save her from. Even though the night would continue into wee hours for many, for these two this dance signaled their good night. With him behind her, she made a graceful round of the ballroom; thank you-s and embraces of all who’d made the year successful were mandatory before she could leave. This time her mind was cleared enough that every kiss and hug was sincere.
He held the car door and helped her tuck her dress in. The timber of the door’s closure and purpose in his stride around the car sent a prickling reminder across her bottom. Her evening was not over yet. There was nothing to say on the drive home. Both allowed the cool evening air to work its silken magic, soothing tense muscles, cooling sweat damped flesh, and cleansing exhausted lungs. She allowed calm submission envelop her, letting go of all will not imparted by him. Their car, their destination and all that would follow were completely under his control.
Once in the driveway, shortly after the tires crunched to a halt, her door opened and his hand reached down for hers. She came up to stand with him gracefully, her body easily molding to his. The welcome home embrace they shared was brief, replaced by the short sensually rich walk into the house. The chirps and clunk of the keyless lock securing their car played accompaniment to their fist few steps inside. Surrendering her will often had the effect of heightening her senses. His hand on her back, pressing and slipping against the cool slinky fabric of her dress infused heat and power to her flesh. The air carried the scent of deepening fall and coming frost. The dark amplified the sounds of tree limbs groaning and squeaking pressed gently together by the weight of the night, rusted by an almost imperceptible cold breeze. The cold hardened gravel and angel stone aggregate crunched under shoe leather loudly enough to obscure thought, and then keys coughed up a short if intrusive brass chatter. His arm instinctively wrapped her shoulders when she shivered. He held her close, acknowledged her shiver with a kiss behind her ears and then pushed her forward into the living room.
“Go inside and get ready for bed. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
The ritual of the long familiar wind down after of an evening out took over. Zippers, hooks and clasps in multiples were let go. The weight of clothes fell away the uncomfortable irritation of cold pretentious glitter lifted off mercifully. Water ran, soap suds and terry cloth cleaned still more camouflage away. By the time he joined her in the master bath she was wrapped comfortably in bulky well worn cotton jersey imbued with his scent and was settled with just as much ease on the toilet. It never ceased to amaze her how brushing his teeth seemed to be the only step in his ritual, and how as soon as she flushed the toilet, he took her place - and that when she finished with her teeth, they were both done and he was patiently waiting for her.
She followed his lead to bed knowing the house was locked up, the security system on, all windows closed and the A/C was switched to heat and the temperature reset to 45 degrres F. The sensual silk and cotton chenille throw was tossed over her side of the bed. The Vermont country store bath brush rested on the pillow on his side. She’d left panties off tonight because she knew something would be there. Momentary panic made her halt against his guiding arm. It wasn’t a cane or switch, it wasn’t the brat loop, it wasn’t the school master strap … she’d almost expected one of these were owed her, even so, the implement laid out ranked among the first of her most feared.
“Please no?” she begged.
“You know the rules,” he reminded, and she did.
She cried out with every impact. “Ow! Please!” In short order her bottom as on fire, red, hot and even deeply bruised, marked and punished by the harshest of blows. Pian made her riggle and buck.
Now that her world was changed forever and his active arm gone, she’d let herself ease away from fear. Until now, like no, when fearful implements gave her dreams of him back, the kind of power he’d really kept and owned with her
His image and expressed faith in her stayed with her. His passing and the physical change in her life still managed to let her keep it to lean on.
“Why do you let so much venom into your temper?” His hand took hers and she laid down across his remembered thighs. She had no answer. “I don’t know!” The brush laid in hard until tears crested her lower eyelids.
“Please!” she whimpered, and she felt him soften. He spanked her only just to tears this time.
“You’re getting soft sweet thing,” his essence whispered quietly as she fell alseep. She nodded and let him lift her properly to bed. Penetration was delicate though the thrusts that followed took more than her submission and pleasure.
Dreams and time feed this. Friday’s cold lonely must go to parties no matter what reality fed this. She lives alone, yet really never is alone, her memories and desires invade, engorge and yes even enrich her truth.
She missed this. She soooooo missed this.
