Wondering

 On a very rare occasion, you might see someone and wonder. Whatever the circumstance, most of the time you walk on by. Still you wonder and that moment lingers, forever. Always there, never leaving, always wondering, hidden away in that little box in the back… wondering.

 She sat there all beautiful and alone, framed by the snow, falling down through the night on the other side of the glass, and in the wall adjacent, a fireplace. Dancing colors of red and white fence for space and the air seems to move. All in balance with the pale green of the cashmere dress, the golden pendent hanging from a simple golden chain matching the one around her wrist, and her. 

 He watched the endless parade of fools assaulting her with drivel, and wondered if his invitation, would be any more pertinent to her at this moment, than theirs. What was it he had to say that was relevant, to her?

 She turned away to look out the window. The red reflection shimmered against her auburn hair. She saw his reflection in the glass, her look moved up until their eyes meet, and they wondered.

 He, like the others was attractive, very attractive, but most importantly unlike the others, he wasn’t pushing anything, he was just there. And like a movie in slow motion, she watched as every move he made was marked by an assurance that aroused her.

 Now sitting across from her, his eyes were a much brighter shade of sparkling blue than the reflection had revealed. Her eyes were wide and hazel with the perfect compliment of green to partner with the auburn.

“I suppose I should order a drink” he said.

 She raised her hand ever so slightly and no time the bar lady was standing there beside him asking. “What can I get you?”

Never taking her eyes from his, she said, “He’ll have same,” and the bar lady left.

“What I am having?” he asked 

“Rye and ginger” she said.

  “What kind of Rye?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” she said.

  “No” he said as the bar lady returned, set the drink in front of him and departed.

  Picking up the drink, his smile broadened and he said, “Garry”

  She laughed and responded, “Cynthia.” 

 He tipped his glass to her and her to him, and glasses clinked. They sipped, said little, but reveled in the moment. Smiles were the method of communication matched only by the nervous sexually that was the underlying current surrounding them.

“So Garry, what do you do?” Cynthia asked.

 ”As little as possible” Garry replied.

 “Does that mean you’re part of the nouveau riche or a thief?” Cynthia asked.

“A little of both” Garry answered.

 Glasses returned to the table, she watched his hand reach out and touch hers. She savored the sensation of his fingers running across the back of her hand.

 “How did you find me?” she asked

 He pulled out a strip of newspaper from the inside breast pocket of his dark blue suit jacket.  

Cynthia laughed as she read and said “My father was furious when he saw this and demanded an answer. I told him you had a gun.”

 “I did,” Garry said.

“I know, that’s why I told him” Cynthia said

 He stood and she followed moving into his arms as Frank Sinatra sang “The lady is a Tramp.” They danced slowly and time moved, from the bar, to the elevator, to his room, to the snow falling in the night on the other side of the glass. A small table lamp shone in the corner.

Now time played no roll expect for the time it took Tony Bennett to sing “The very thought of you” and they moved. His scent, her scent mingled as they danced, touched and the cashmere fell away.

 His tie, his shirt, a loosened belt and they all fell away. Their lips met and the under current ignited the air. His hands held her face and again brought her lips to his and the world fell away, and the wondering …stopped.  

David Hutchison - Writer 

 

 

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