The train doors slid open with a mechanical sweep and she stepped in amongst the other passengers.
Always, she is plugged into her earphones and always, she prefers to lean against the glass panel at the doorway.
The doors remained gaping as the last human trickles filtered in, as he did, through the very doorway she had entered.
Like her, he chose to lean against the glass panel at the doorway, right across from her.
Instinctively, she looked up in the same instance that he did.
Their eyes met.
And they held each other for a few moments.
And in those few moments, her mind was darting through her memories to recognise his face, as he too seemed to be doing.
A sense of wonderment surged through and made her hold up a hand to her mouth in delighted astonishment; across from her, amazement shone from his eyes as a smile crept onto his face, and he came towards her.
To quote him, a serendipitous encounter as such is a magnificent Christmas gift.
And it is. 🙂
A rainy evening it was as I made my way towards the exit of the establishment with my lady friend. Within stranger’s proximity, he too was walking in the same direction with his companions.
Our separate quiet chatters seemed to entwine in the cool evening air as we convened towards the door, and with passer-by’s intuition we slowed down to allow his group to pass.
While they did, he stopped a distance behind them, doing the same thing we did.
I glanced in his direction and gave him a smile.
He gave a nod as a grin upturned his wrinkled mouth and his eyes caught mine and twinkled in his aged face.
”You’re welcome, madam.”
Chivalry never grows old.
As the music began, she drew him in, feeling his breath on her cheek.
“Come closer a little.”
His hand was travelling down her body, coming to rest at the small concave low at her back. She gasped at the sensation of his fingers on her skin; it brought back memories from so long ago that she thought she had left behind.
And as they danced, each move was a step back in time, each gaze a stronger stirring in their souls, and each turn closer to sweet destruction.
That dance filled the whole room, so much that everything had to melt away. All she could hear was the poignant beauty of the song in her blood; all she could feel were his hands on her skin and his breath on her lips.
He had that look in his eyes, that same desirous look of fever and wild that she remembered. The rhythm was pounding in her ears now, and all she knew was how perfectly their movements connected her to him and him her.
It was as if they had never parted, and the bachata plays, timeless.
She stood before him and he caught the scent of her perfume in her hair. Leaning in with his lips close at her ear, he spoke in a low voice.
“Do you know that you are the most beautiful here?”
“What do you mean?”
She could feel her face flushing and his intent gaze on her.
“Simply that you are the most interesting, elegant and beautiful woman.”
“Do you want to dance with me now?”
Before she could answer, he had taken her hand in his and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Still blushing, she draped hers around his neck. An upbeat percussion rhythm began and the musicians took the cue.
Something I promised a friend; part one first while the rest writes itself, in due time. 😉
Dimly lit and cosy, the interior of the bar contrasted sharply with the summer sidewalks and idyllic outdoors.
She made her way casually, yet not undeliberately down the hallway. The men glanced up and stared; they always do. But she was not distracted.
And there he was.
Tailored blue jacket thrown over white linen shirt and fitted blue jeans, accompanied by the usual glass of red and an air of relaxed elegance, at the far table beside the curtained windows.
She turned and walked in his direction, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth as he looked up that instance and saw her. He smiled, then got up as she arrived at the table.
“It’s been a while.”
“Indeed; how have you been?”
“Well, life goes on.”
“Like a bachata.”
“Yes, we dance – sad words to beautiful melodies – and that makes life more bearable.”
A smile in his eyes, and she could not help smiling back. Linking her arm in his, they walked down together to the dance floor.
He turned around and lay on his back, shifting his weight a little to make himself more comfy. “Too bad assassination is not my forté,” he mused, his eyes staring towards the ceiling in audible contemplation.
“It’s that I don’t like gambling and have no licence to kill…”
She turned onto her side and watched him intently.
“They can die another day.”
“… and planes. Then again I can learn, I mean diamonds are forever, and tomorrow never dies.”
“Well you only live twice…”
“I’d like to tell you how much I love you though… but the world is not enough.”
“… and with a view to a kill, you would, the living daylights out of me.”
He leaned over and looked into her eyes gazing into his.
“You’re like the man with the golden gun with these puns.”
“Well, they won’t live and let die.”
“No, they won’t.”
Her eyes flickered, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“And I, for your eyes only.”
Come down and hug me.
She had missed his message, therefore hurried back towards the hall; the crowd was filtering out in the opposite direction.
As she entered the place, she saw him in the centre of the room, and she stopped a while at the entrance to watch him. The way he talked and laughed with the journalists, the charmer he was for the cameras. He was always meant to be there.
I’m so proud of you.
She was happy to be there, just watching him from the side, smiling to see him the way he was.
A proximity that was near enough, and they could never be closer.