Donna and the Dance

We arrived at the hotel by taxi and there was a last-minute hesitation on Donna’s part which I had to deal with. I took her in my arms and kissed her. If onlookers were shocked or surprised I neither know nor care. It worked and that is all that mattered to me at that moment. Holding hands we entered the room in which the dinner-dance was to be held and I could almost feel Donna holding her breath. Immediately and un-primed by me, Nellie came to us and kissed us both. She led us to the bar and we grabbed some wine and Nellie, an enthusiastic communicator (for which read non-stop talker) explained who everyone was for Donna’s benefit. We were joined by my boss, Annabelle. She is tall and willowy with short, blonde hair and high cheek bones.

She kissed me and before I could introduce her, she said, ‘You must be Donna. I’m Annabelle and this wretch,’ indicating me, ‘works for me.’ They shook hands.

‘College has been helping me to understand things which my education failed to cover.’ Annabelle enquired in what ways. ‘Oh well, she has been explaining things like the mating habits of swans and genetics. She is also something of an art critic which is germane to my employment.’ I pointed out that referring to an alleged work of art as ‘bollocks’ hardly counted as criticism but she patted my hand dismissively and explained to the others her misunderstanding of the word ‘mating’ in the context of the swan’s on the canal. Within minutes our small group was in hysterics. She has, you see, a natural; ability with people. She doesn’t know it but she has.

We sat with Annabelle and her husband, Steve, at dinner and at Annabelle’s insistence. The whole meal passed in gales of laughter and I could see that Donna knew it was warm and friendly and genuine. She relaxed and was really enjoying herself, her misgivings forgotten. She danced with Steve and others. Between two bouts of dancing she came to me, slipped her arm around my shoulders and nuzzled her nose to the hair above my ear. She kissed that ear and said, ‘Thanks, College, I love you.’ My eyes filled with tears. She was gone, this time to dance with our MD.

It was pretty late in the evening when I finally got to dance with her. I am a reluctant dancer but she grasped my hand and said, ‘Get your arse on that dance floor and shake it!’ I did, ineptly and immensely happily. The slow number that followed enabled us to get a little closer and we danced, my chin on her shoulder for the few minutes that for me where the best of the evening. To dance in public with the stunning creature who held me, to smile into her eyes, to touch without being furtive was a new and magical moment for me and I suspect, for her too. I don’t want to give the impression that we made a spectacle of ourselves but we behaved like any couple might.

We got back to my place around one in the morning. She slowly undressed me in the bedroom and caressed or kissed each part of me as she revealed it. She gently pressed me onto the bed and lifting her dress straddled my legs. She leant down and kissed my mouth.

i asked,‘Do you?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?

‘I love you too.’ The desire that had smouldered between us all evening took flame.

‘No work tomorrow, College, so I do not expect any resistance on your part.’ Her eyes shone with happiness, reflecting, I know, my own. There was no resistance.