by Kimber Swan
I look to Dante, who quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Sure.”
The stranger guides me to the dance floor. I turn my head to see Dante wink in encouragement. The man’s hand burns my lower back, but oddly feeling like it was meant to be there. His other hand grips my hand.
The band starts playing Witchcraft by Frank Sinatra. He twirls me outward then snaps me back. Our bodies are flush against each other. Each of us feeling the curves of the other intimately. My body explodes, reacting to his closeness. His body is hard as stone under the expensive tuxedo. The deceiving jacket hides large muscular arms.
His mesmerizing eyes capture me when I look up at him. The blue grey color reminds me of a stormy cloud filled day. Slightly longer than normal jet black hair frames high cheekbones and an aristocratic nose. A faint scar next to his left eye is the only imperfection. He projects an air of nobility despite his five o’clock shadow.
He twirls me out twice more, each with a stronger snap than the first, always bringing me back as forcefully. The force of the last snap releases a lock of my hair to fall across my face. Before I can move it, he lifts his hand twining it around his fingers before brushing it behind my ear. His other hand glides lower along my back until rests right above my backside, applying the slightest pressure there.
“Soft.” He murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft.”
“Thank you. I don’t believe in using mass hair products on it. I know women like to dye their hair or alter it somehow, but me, I like it natural.” I babble.
God, am I really talking about hair products?
He’s surprised by my response.
“Well, natural looks beautiful on you. Have we met before? You seem familiar somehow, but I know I would remember someone as beautiful as you. My name is Daniel, Daniel Ashbrooke.”
His compliment makes me blush five shades of red.
“Daphne Michels. I would remember you without a doubt. Trust me.” I blush more, if that’s possible.
He smiles back.
“Well, Ms. Michels, how did you hear about this event?” He inquires.
Oh shoot!
“It was sort of a last-minute thing for my friend and me. We hadn’t planned on coming but then the tickets sort of fell into our laps.”
That’s a close version of the truth. I can’t lie and when I do all sorts of bad things happen.
“I’m glad you came otherwise I would not have had the pleasure of this dance. The charity will benefit from your donation. My parents were big supporters of it.”
“Were?” I question.
He evades my question.
“Watching you and your boyfriend made dancing look like fun. I hope he doesn’t mind that I stole you for a little while?”
He leads me through the dance with a confidence that’s alluring.
“He isn’t my boyfriend. More of a brother, best friend, confidante and protector.” I reply.
“Then he shouldn’t mind us having a drink?” He inquires with an arched eyebrow.
“He wouldn’t, but I may.” For a moment, he looks dejected. “You see, we don’t know anyone here and I wouldn’t want to leave him alone. However, if you would like to join us, you are more than welcome to.”
“Sounds good.”
Daniel leads us off the floor when the song finishes. He scans the room, stopping briefly. His grip on my waist tightens fractionally.
“He’s right over there.” I nod in Dante’s direction.
“I would like that, but perhaps some other time. I must go. Enjoy your night, Daphne Michels.” He bows slightly, kissing my hand.
His lips linger longer than is considered appropriate. He is gone then in a flash, no trace of the handsome man named Daniel when I look around me. I make a complete circle trying to find some clue as to what direction Daniel went.
Dante surprises me from behind, leaning his chin on my shoulder.
“Please tell me he at least asked about me?” Dante grabs my shoulders. “Wait, lie to me. Please! Let me have this fantasy.”
“Hmmm.” I reply distracted.
Dante tugs on my arm.
“He is a fine piece of man. Did you at least get his number?”
Did that just happen? Was Daniel real? The only trace of Daniel is a lingering whiff of his cologne. Baffled by Daniel’s abrupt departure and questioning my own sanity, I burst into a fit of giggles except I’m not sure what I am laughing at.
“Girl, are you okay?” Dante asks, looking at me as if I’ve gone crazy.
“Did I just dance with him? I mean, he was perfect. I never get perfect.” I wonder out loud.
He nods his head, still looking concerned. I shake my head clearing the confusion grabbing onto the only thing I know to be true.
“What? I’m confused. You’re asking if you danced with the guy?”
“You’re confused? Really?” I reply sarcastically and a little too loudly.
“You two seemed pretty close.”
“I thought I dreamed him and the dance. It passed by too quickly and then he was gone. Like poof, gone.” I remark.
“I wonder if it had anything to do with the woman who was watching you two. She looked pissed and territorial. You know the saying that if looks could kill.” He arches his brow.
“Really? He didn’t mention being here with someone, but then I didn’t ask. He even asked if I would like to get a drink. We were going to get one when he abruptly left.”
“It was probably his wife or girlfriend.” He surmises.
“Well, there goes the happily ever after.” I joke outwardly, but inside something hurts, confusing me further. “I guess I’ll be doing the laundry this week.”
“Didn’t you know? We’re living happily ever after. But you can definitely do the laundry.” He replies, pulling me in for a hug, trying to cheer my sullen mood.
Dancing with Daniel felt different. The intensity I felt with our bodies touching wasn’t anything I ever felt before. I am a proud member of the V club, but his body made me think being a card carrier was foolish. Visions of him on top of me, naked, caressing every inch of my body sends chills down my spine.
“It looks like things are starting to settle down. You want to head out?” Dante interrupts my fantasies.
“Sounds good. My feet are killing me.” I fan myself.
Dante and I make our way towards the lobby’s front doors when a man dressed formally stops us.
“Miss Michels, Mr. Ashbrooke would like me to escort you and your date home.”
Shocked and annoyed by Daniel’s action after ditching me, I answer rudely. “You tell Mr. Ashbrooke thank you, but we have our own way of getting home.”
Dante looks at me questioningly. I grab his hand, squeezing it tightly, hoping to convey my thoughts without voicing them.
“Please Miss. Mr. Ashbrooke was quite adamant about it.” He tries again.
“Thank you, but no.” I reply, walking briskly away, but he doggedly follows us.
“Miss, please.” He pleads.
Ignoring his last protest, I tug on Dante to move faster. I hail a cab once outside, a luxury we can barely afford. Tonight, right now however, I need to do this. I will go without lunch for the week if I have to. In the cab, I give the cab driver the directions home and close the window separating us.
“What gives? We can’t afford this?” Dante asks, always stating the obvious. “Mr. Ashbrooke wanted to drive us home.”
“He can’t drive us home. Think about it. If he found out where we lived, we would have been found out. Or did you forget we weren’t supposed to be there?”
“No, I didn’t forget.”
I stare him down hard.
“Okay maybe a little.”
“That’s better.”
“But did you stop to think? We could have had him drop us off at one of the better buildings with a doorman a few blocks away.” He retorts, shaking his head in dismay. “It doesn’t matter. We had tickets no matter how we got them.”
“Look, I acted impetuously. I’m sorry, but he probably had a wife.”
“Really? Is that it? Or are you embarrassed by where we live?”
“I’m fine with our zip code. You know how I feel about married men. Anyway, I’m not walking city blocks in these heels.” I respond stubbornly, knowing he is right. “I couldn’t accept the ride from Daniel, especially when he ran off too quickly without an explanation.”
“So, now we have to suffer because of your rashness.” He puffs out.
“I’ll work extra shifts to cover the fare.”
“Oh, yes, you will. I’d rather spend our money on other indulgences.” He supplies cockily. His mood shifting quickly. “But I’ll help also.”
I smile back at him, kissing his cheek.
“I’ll work double the amount so you can have one of those indulgences this month.”
I swear the cab driver took the long way home. I paid him with my overworked, new credit card. Once upstairs, I unzip the dress in the kitchen while starting a pot of tea, my only real source of relaxation after a long day such as this.
While we wait for the water to boil, Dante removes the thousands of hair pins that he nicely glued in my hair. Never once did we talk about Daniel. Eventually, after a hot shower and some comfy pajamas we retire on the couch to watch an old, black and white, movie about a king and his children’s teacher. Sleep tonight comes easily.
Chapter Two
A bouquet of gardenias, roses and birds of paradise are delivered to the apartment a few days after the gala. The multitude of colors brighten the dreary, gray day. The heat wave finally broke following the fat rain drops that have been steadily falling for three days. Traveling by foot and subway is normally treacherous, but in the rain with the numerous little ponds, known as potholes, it turns to every pedestrian’s worst nightmare. The city has not fixed them from the snowy winter this past year.
The flowers find a new home on the kitchen counter. Our small two-bedroom apartment’s kitchen is more like a closet than an actual kitchen, but we make due. The rent control and large living space make up for the kitchen. We can usually have twenty people over and not feel the pinch of space, as long as we stay out of the bedrooms and kitchen.
The bouquet was delivered without a note. The florist could not give me any information as to who sent them, but insists there was a card with the bouquet when they left her store. It isn’t until I lift the perfect bronze colored rose to smell it that I notice a little scroll attached to the rose with a ribbon.
I untie the ribbon to reveal elegant penmanship. The note is short and simple, but what it lacks in wording it provides in a powerful punch by who authored it.
Thank you for a wonderful dance.
You have me under your spell.
I hope for another in the near future.
D. A.
There is only one D. A. I know of with whom I have danced with recently. Daniel Ashbrooke. But how did he find out where I live? My head has been in the clouds since the gala, dreaming about this beautiful man and haunting fairytales about faraway places that his accent invoked. Dante walks through the door noticing my dazed expression.
“Honey, are you okay?”
His question is laced with concern as he places his keys on the table next to the door before removing his raincoat.
“Ah, I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I mean, yes, I’m okay but I don’t know if I will ever be the same again. Here look.”
I move out of the way so he can see the flowers.
“Oh, they’re beautiful. Who sent them?” He asks, walking over to smell them.
“Well, you see that’s the shocking part. Read the card.”
Calling it a card isn’t befitting. His head snaps up after reading it.
“D. A. as in Daniel Ashbrooke. That D. A.? The hottie from the gala? The one you’ve been moping around about?”
“I haven’t been moping.” I reply indignantly.
“Aha. Yeah. Whatever.” He replies, ignoring me.
“Aren’t you wondering how he got our address?” I question.
“Who knows? Anything can be found with enough money.” He states matter of fact.
“Okay, but why? It was just a dance. It’s weird. And…, I don’t know, wrong.”
“Yeah, right. Obviously, it was more.” He responds while moving food around in the refrigerator. “We need to get some food. There’s something green in here. Gross.”
“We’ll go to the store later. Throw out the green thing. What are we doing tonight?” I say, dropping the subject of Daniel.
Dante steps back holding the offending green item pinched between his thumb and pointer finger as far away from his body as possible. The smell is too much as he passes me.
“Take the garbage out now!” I gag, reaching pass him for the room deodorizer.
“I was talking with Rachel about a new club that opened. She gave me directions to where it is tonight. Every week it changes locations.”
“Really?” I ask intrigued.
Clubs that usually change locations are the ones we have the most fun in. Sometimes, physically getting there is half the fun. They are like mini adventures or scavenger hunts. A few of them required us to bring pieces of the scavenger hunt with us as a cover charge.
“I’m in.” I reply before the door slams behind him.
I follow his path to the door spraying deodorizer.
“Good that’s what I told her. She wants us to meet her there.” He answers, walking through the misty cloud, coughing.
“What time?”
“I’m starving. Can you get ready soon so we can stop and get something to eat before?” He’s still looking for something to eat.
“You’re asking me? You’re the one who takes hours to get ready.”
“Ha, ha, ha. Make fun of the homosexual. What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find something. What about you?”
He tsks me.
“I have a new pair of leather pants I want to try out.” He slides his hands down his thighs, purring as they move.
I giggle at him and his return smile is bright.
The black, knee length, pencil skirt paired with a yellow, halter neck shirt reveals the right amount of skin. It’s sexy, but not slutty. Gladiator sandals make it look perfect, even better then when I tried it on originally. Dante comes out in dark red, leather pants. I should never doubt Dante’s taste in clothing. The pants, combat boots and black ripped tee shirt make him look irresistible.
“Wow.” I say when he walks out. “I’d hit on you. Be careful girls,” I lick my finger then touch his arm making a sizzling sound, “he’s too hot.”
“I know, right? Back at you, girl. I’ll be fighting the men off tonight.”
“Let’s go. I want to find it sometime tonight.”
The rain stopped while we were getting ready. The ground is saturated and over flowing in the streets. We have ump over many puddles along the way. The humidity is gone replaced by a light breeze.
We finally arrive at the club shortly before midnight. The scavenger hunt took longer than we planned, but we guaranteed our free entry by finding the prize. The club itself is great. The cops would never think to look in the observation room of an old abandoned teaching hospital. The city is full of these types of buildings. The strobe lights reflecting off the stainless-steel pieces offer more lighting and reveal the wall-to-wall people.
The energy vibrating off the inhabitants make my body feel like a live wire. A hoard of gyrators dance on the make shift dance floor. The cries of the gyrators are drowned out by the pumping music. Rachel is among the gyrators waiting for us when we enter.
“Hey guys. This is Justin’s big night.” She yells over the music, hugging both of us.
“I didn’t know he was performing tonight. Did you Dante?” I ask, staring daggers at him.
Dante shakes his head no.
Justin has been Rachel’s boyfriend as long
as we have known them. They met on the street as runaways. We met them on the streets after we were listed as runaways ourselves by child protective services. Justin is part of a new rock band that creates something that sounds more like noise than music. He and Josh, another friend who is married to Trish a girl we work with, are in the band together. The music they make is not a genre we like. It’s more like an acquired taste- one that Dante and I have yet to acquire. Instead, it gives us a headache for days on end. Dante and I suffer through it because they are good friends.
“Thanks for thinking of us.” Dante says sweetly.
The band is tuning their instruments on the make shift stage. Rachel physically pulls me along with Dante trailing us. Justin glances at the three of us, smiling. He puts his guitar down and jumps off the stage.
“Hey man.” Justin greets Dante, shaking his hand.
Dante shakes it more stiffly than normal. He nods at Justin distractedly. Justin doesn’t notice and continues talking. I look at Dante questioning his rude behavior. His barely there nod only registers when I follow his line of sight. I see two guys staring at us. I think I should know who they are, but can’t place their faces.
I lean into him whispering loudly in his ear. “Who are they?”
Justin interrupts us by hugging and kissing me.
“Oh, hi. We’re touchy feely tonight.” I joke.
“Yeah. I’m stoked you guys came. How are you?”
Justin climbs back on stage, not listening to my answer, which is good because I’m busy trying to figure out who those guys are. Justin strumming his guitar falls into the background.
Dante leans in. “You do, but the last time we saw them they were being taken away by child protective services while their mother was arrested for abusing and neglecting her foster children.”
“Oh, shit.” I respond, shocked looking back at them.
Mrs. Johnson’s trial made the local news about the horrid conditions the foster children in her care were found in. While Mrs. Johnson was in jail, one of the mothers whose child she was responsible for started a fight in which Mrs. Johnson was fatally wounded. Scott and Richard were taken in by an uncle, who I heard treated them the way Mrs. Johnson treated her foster kids. It seems a lifetime ago, but in truth it was only five years ago