“Maybe you need to be here when snow comes down on you this winter,” he suggested, with more meaning conveyed in those words, she was sure. He had a way of saying things. He was clearly forward in his approach, but he restricted his advances toward her to times, and tones, when only she could receive them. She was not in any way uncomfortable with his impetus, in fact, she liked what he did and the way he did it. Nodding in agreement, she was filled with what she thought the words meant. Hesitating before continuing, she became keenly aware of the sensation in the lower part of her body.
“I understand that the December Torchlight Parade down the slopes of Sierra Asombroso is awesome. Do you go watch it?” she asked as innocently as she could, assured that she concealed the arousal deep in her stomach.
“No, I don’t. I ski it,” he said with a huge smile. “I’ll be one of those skiers carrying the red flares slowly down the mountainside. It’s a lot of fun,” he added. “Do you ski?” he inquired.
“Oh heavens no,” she answered with a laugh. “The last time I tried was in Japan, and I wound up head first in the snow with my skis crossed up in the air, like you see in cartoons. They had to dig me out. My children still tell that story, and of course it gets worse and more comical, as the years go by,” Lynette chuckled.
“What about you?” Lynette asked. “You must have been born during the winter with a name like that.”
“I was. I was born in November. I’m told that a new snow had just begun to fall. You know the rest,” he said, taking nothing for granted but aware that she was obviously educated and familiar with Native traditions. Blaze didn’t talk more than he had to. Lynette was so aware that much of their short time together he was watching, listening, feeling her in a concentrated manner. She could put no words to the sensation, but knew that he was drawing closer to her, and she to him in a strange but fascinating way.
At that moment an insect touched down on her hair, just above her forehead. Blaze reached up and brushed the bug away, but he didn’t flick at it. He allowed his cupped hand to brush her temple and he rubbed the side of her face softly – oh so softly. A bolt of electricity shot through her body all the way to her toes, and she closed her eyes, relishing his gentle touch. When she opened her eyes, his face was close to hers. He was smiling at her, knowing that she had enjoyed his touch. It was an intimate touch. A daring touch with meaning. He felt pleasure himself, in the way she accepted the warmth of his fingertips. They had danced with his arm securely around her waist, but this was a different touch, a telling touch. Lynette hadn’t been this aroused by a man in a long, long time. Again the sensation was extremely pleasant, yet disquieting.
A strange sense of fear kept trying to push its way out of her subconscious and into her conscious awareness. Uncomfortable with the creeping irritant and the veiled anxiety, she allowed the fear to surface so she could deal with it. The hair stood up on the back of her neck like that of a ridgeback hound. And if there was no hair down her spine, then the muscles constricted with stinging sensations. She was feeling something for this man that scared the hell out of her. That it started so suddenly at the restaurant was, she thought, just her being celibate for so long . But the longer she was around him, the more she was attracted to him – in an almost unearthly way. This wasn’t the first attraction she’d had to an interesting man over the past few years, but she never let it get beyond a small titillation. This was, however, a new feeling. This allurement was something more than a mere attraction. This is what she was afraid of. Was he someone she was supposed to know? And if so, what was this meeting going to do to her well-constructed life?
Again and again, Blaze dragged Lynette back onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer, exceptionally light on his feet. Smooth on the slow songs, quick and energetic on the fast ones. Somewhere he’d learned to break partially loose from a full hold turning first one way then another, much like a cha-cha or samba move. He bent his knees, reared back on his cowboy-booted heels and spun Lynette like a toy. In her history, Lynette was used to lots of hip movements; this kind of dancing involved lots of leg, foot and shoulder action. It was damned good, light-hearted fun.
For three more hours, when Blaze wasn’t whirling Lynette around on the dance floor, the foursome talked - getting to know more about one another, sharing foibles, stories about their work, laughing about their children, and just generally having a really good time. They told jokes, keeping them clean of course, which was occasionally hard for Lynette to do. She was cheerfully ridiculed for her Tall Texas Tales which she assured were true. Like the Texas Jack Rabbit that whipped the German Shepherd sentry dog! Or the herd of Jackalopes (jack rabbits crossed with deer, so they had antlers), down in Lee County.
Though the guys nursed a couple of beers, neither was heading toward inebriation. No one was rude or crude and, in fact, the guys were overwhelmingly gentlemen, each with a good sense of humor. Blaze was the quieter of the two men. He listened intently to what everyone said. In fact, Lynette noticed just how well he listened. She liked that about him. She liked the way he looked at her, as if he knew something secret about her. She liked the way he danced, not insisting that she go too fast when the beat picked up. She liked the way he held her whether the music was fast or slow; he knew how to adjust his control. She liked his polished manner of speech – almost Midwestern in tone and accent. She was really taken by his wonderful smile. It was a warm, welcoming smile, with bright white, even teeth. It made her feel appreciated, and very desirable, when she returned from the ladies room and he smiled at her the entire time she walked toward their table. She liked the way his hand brushed her shoulder when he held the chair for her. She liked a lot of things about him - already.
“Ok, you started this,” Lynette blurted out, turning a quarter way in her chair toward Blaze. She stood abruptly, squeezed his shoulder, and snapped her head sideways, motioning toward the dance floor. Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight… a fast, bouncy Dierks Bentley song boomed from the heavy old speakers, …dancin’ till the morning light. She half skipped onto the dance floor with Blaze right behind.
“What has gotten into you?” he asked grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“By God, I’m having the most fun I’ve had in a month of Sundays,” she replied waving her hands in no particular pattern. Blaze snagged her around her waist. With one unbroken motion he whirled her around facing him and guided her in a fast, fast two-step. “You know, Governor Ann Richards used to brag that women do this kind of dancing just as well as men, or better, ‘cuz they can do it backwards and in heels,” and she, winked mischievously at Blaze.
Breathlessly, they returned to the table. Blaze turned up his bottle of beer and drained the few remaining drops from it. Lynette was content to melt ice in her mouth. Her heart beat so loudly she could hear it in her ears. She grinned over at Blaze and watched the thick vein in his neck pulsate. Settling back in their chairs, they were content to just watch the action on the floor.
As the evening wore on, and grew toward midnight, energy levels began to wane and Clare admitted that she had had just about all the fun her body could stand for one night. They’d been on the go since early that morning with getting to the airport, traveling, and driving up the mountain. Lynette agreed and it was time for the foursome to part.
“One more dance,” Blaze insisted in his gentle way, looking at her in a manner that made her know he wanted to be close to her again.
“I agree,” Aaron said, and the two couples eased off onto the now almost empty, darkened dance floor. Kenny Rodgers crooned Lady…I’m your knight in shining armor… and the movements were slow and easy, to his slow and easy, whiskey voice. Lynette didn’t want to end the evening to a you broke my heart and left me all alone song. This was good. This was a tender love song. It was an appropriate way to end a wonderful evening. Or maybe, to begin something new.
Blaze pulled her close to him, this time slipping his arm between her silky, fitted turquoise shell-top and the o
uter flowing, opaque blouse. During the business work-day, she wore smart well-tailored suits maintaining an air of professionalism and sophistication. After-hours she preferred feminine, sensuous fabrics thus the hand-painted blue, white and aqua gauzy over-blouse. He held her decidedly closer than any dance before and started to move his body and hers all at once. She had the feeling that he was not asking permission for this way to dance; he was taking control of the moment. Lynette felt electricity on her face, as it lay on his chest, and that same sensation coursed down though her breasts, circling her hardening nipples – down through her abdomen and down to her knees as he pressed his thighs against hers. She recognized the sensation. It was what her body felt when it slowly, inevitably climbed toward orgasm. It was a heightening of the stimulation she’d been experiencing all evening under Blaze’s gaze; intense, burning arousal. She liked it. He moved his upper torso so that her full breasts were square with his chest. Instead of that just slightly off-center position with which a couple usually dances, he positioned her so that her body was square with his, and he gently, insistently, pulled her close up and against him. She did not resist.
All evening, through all of the dances, fast or slow, she’d let her hand rest on his firm shoulder. This time, she slipped her arm farther up around his shoulder, and under his ponytail, brushing the back of his neck. She let her hand rest there, loving the feel of his straight, silky hair on her hand. She liked long hair on a man, especially the flowing locks of traditional First Nation men. Almost without thought she let her fingers move ever so gently back and forth across his neck, massaging the inches just beneath his shirt collar. He responded to her touch by lowering his face as near to hers as possible. She felt the warmth from his exhalation as he pushed air through his nose; the warm breath ghosting its way beneath the loose top of her over-blouse, rushing down the spinal indentation of her back. It stimulated her deeper into her body, as if the breath was meant to flow downward and pool in a special receptacle that was already a quivering, magmatic caldron.
They moved slowly, no longer using long steps; making sure their bodies touched in every possible place. At times it appeared that they were in suspended motion, only their feet inched a bit back and forth. He tried to release her right hand from its very proper hold, so he could wrap both arms around her body, but she wouldn’t let it go. She held tightly to it. She read his intent. So he intertwined his fingers into hers and squeezed them, rubbing his palm suggestively on hers. It was best that the world not know that they both wanted to make love on this dance floor. For if he held her like he wanted, she knew instinctively that she would drape her arms around his neck, and they would be discovered. After all, until a few hours ago, they had been strangers. On that dance floor, she could not unleash the truth of what she was feeling. She had to maintain some semblance of external dignity, and try to appear the lady she was, or was supposed to be, to those onlookers - but it was hard.
Blaze drew in several long breaths letting her know that he was feeling her. She nestled herself up under his chin and, almost imperceptible to any watching eye, she pressed her pelvis against his and moved it in a sensuous, slow, slow, slow roll. Abruptly, she stopped and pulled slightly away from him. He looked startled. What in the hell am I doing? she questioned herself. Then she answered herself, I want this; I want him. She was glad that she had chosen to wear the loose, flowing over-blouse because she resumed her purposeful undulations, hidden from prying eyes. He drew in a sharp, quick breath – an audible gasp, and dug his fingers into the small of her back, responding immediately by exerting the same pressure on her pelvic area as she pressed on his, giving her his pelvic pallet on which to draw her invisible designs. And they rolled slowly, slowly together. In their shared movements was an acknowledgement of mutual, hot, controlled passion. It took only a single step for him to reposition her off-center and against his thigh. There was that recognized rise below his belt buckle, laying, alive on one thigh. It tried to move with a life of its own but the tautness of the blue jeans held it in place. Lynette quivered a little and paid close attention to it. With long strides, Blaze pushed his leg hard between her legs. Not only did she rotate her pelvis, she went up on her toe so that the bone of her pubis could rub up and then down on this hardened spot. She rubbed her stomach against the rise. It felt so good. There was not one doubt that he liked what she was doing. He was slowly massaging her waistline, digging his fingers in at times as her movement heightened his ardor. From her face to her thighs, everything that was happening felt so good. Thanks to the almost non-existent light in some corners of the dance floor, no one could tell the heat – the passion – that was flowing between these two. Only they knew what they were doing to each other, and it was excruciatingly intense. Beads of moisture appeared on his face as he struggled to maintain himself. Her breaths were deep and shaky as she exhaled, and the exhalation made her stomach vibrate. He parted his lips and let out a long, shaky, whispered sigh. On the small of her back his open hand clinched into a tight fist and pressed downward to the base of her spinal column, then opened wide again and tilted that part of her body up toward his. His hand began to shake as he clawed at her body protected by the linen waistband of her slacks. He wanted to let his hand follow the descending slope of her full, round buttocks. He wanted to grab, squeeze, molest the flesh he knew was covered but that would be too much. It was too early for that; it wasn’t time yet. But given the chance – mercifully given the chance – he prayed that the time would come. Lynette clung to him hot and perspiring herself. Flows of moisture would welcome him if she could have what she wanted right then, right there.
As the record ended, Blaze hesitated to let her go. “Tomorrow,” he whispered with his lips moist, moving on her ear with each syllable.
“Let’s do something together tomorrow.”
Lynette looked up at him with an accepting gaze. She looked into his eyes. They seemed dark, almost pained. She held the gaze there, then she looked at his lips. He watched her taking in the sight of his mouth. She was hungry for that mouth. And he knew it. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled softly.
“Yes,” she replied in a controlled whisper, and that reply answered all the uncertainties of the night. It offered all of the possibilities for the tomorrow. She squeezed his hand. Then she was the one to lead him off the dance floor, obscuring his condition from the small, watchful crowd.
They both tried to act nonchalant when they got back to the table, but there was nervousness in their demeanor. Lynette’s legs were shaking. Aaron spoke up in what they came to realize was his determined voice. It was obvious he liked Clare. They seemed to have a lot in common. She was obviously taken by his wit and charm. Because her face was so flushed, Lynette was grateful for the subdued light in the club, but they could all tell that she liked Blaze. And the way he stood momentarily behind her chair, with his hands laying gently on her shoulders, made it clear that the feeling was mutual. These advances, these were not part of a pick-up routine on the part of either Blaze or Lynette. There was something happening between them, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it.
“Brunch tomorrow out to our place,” he insisted, “and I won’t take no for an answer,” Aaron said emphatically.
“Blaze…?” his inflection was a question.
“Works for me,” Blaze responded as he eased down into his chair, sliding his thigh along Lynette’s in a way that the others could not see. She raised the heel of her shoe off the floor in response, which caused her thigh to move upward and then downward twice, three times against the side of his. They exchanged the messages of the body for which there was no mistaking. Lynette was aware of how warm she felt. Was it the heat from Blaze’s body or just hers? It didn’t matter. This was more like a hot flash, which she had been mercifully spared because her doctor put her on a tiny pink pill that prevented that damnable plague of women who were nearing early peri-menopause. So if it wasn’t a hot flash, which it wasn’t, why was she so warm? She allowed
that invisible force we all possess to reach out toward Blaze, like a thermometer, testing the temperature, and she felt the same heat exuding from him.
“We’ll pick you up at the condo about what time?” Aaron asked looking first at Clare then at Lynette.
“Eleven-ish,” Clare replied unsure.
“That’s not early enough. I know you ladies need your rest,” Aaron said. “We don’t want to waste too much of the day though. Want to show you all around the ranch,” he insisted. “It’ll take a little bit to get out there.”
“How about 10 o’clock?” Clare countered.
“That’ll work,” Blaze answered, looking at Lynette as he nodded his head.
The men walked the ladies to their car. Aaron, being the gentleman that he was, reached out and kissed Clare’s hand.
“I had a great evening, Clare,” he said. “You’re a really sweet lady. I’m sure glad the restaurant was so packed or we’d a missed an opportunity of a lifetime.” He kissed her hand again and opened the car door for her.
“Good night y’all,” he said. “Cain’t wait till tomorrow.”
Lynette tried to keep it light as Blaze walked her around to the driver’s side and opened her door. What a hypocrite she knew she was. She was aroused to the point of distraction. She wanted to kiss him; she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to reach down and touch his jeans in that place with her hand. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to be like those randy teenagers she’d seen, mauling each other all up against a car. If Clare was not with her, she knew it would take very little for her to go with him, wherever he wanted. He reached out and squeezed her hand. He did not try to kiss her and somehow she knew that was best.
Thunder In Her Body Page 4