MICK AND TRINA'S STORY CONTINUES: May I have this dance, please?

Mick walked across the floor, keeping Trina in his sight.  She ducked her head, looking away.  He’d watched her peruse all the males present.  The teens that danced past her, she smiled at and shook her head no.  The older ones made conversation and moved off to find their mates or spouses.  The few women who stopped to talk, pointed to males at various points throughout the gymnasium.  He reached Trina as the opening strains of the melody began.

“May I have this dance, please?” he asked, holding out his hand.  He kept his gaze on her face.  The costumes hid much of their physique.   Not that it mattered.  Many here used scent and their other senses along with their animal sixth sense to pick out their chase.  There were no victims here.  Matting happened when all parties agreed.  Dancing didn’t resemble the sweaty pleasure enhance bed rumpling stints most of the youth here tried to do.  No, dancing was for conversation, getting to know each other, and asking for another dance.  Even time to nibble finger foods and sip the sickening sweet punch the cafeteria provided.  He’d heard whispers Louie from Rattigan’s was due at midnight; something about road kill stew and other more delightful cuisine.  

Mick smiled.  Trina turned toward him.  Her hands lay one on top of the other, resting on her fanny pouch.  Most of the women carried purses or clutch bags.  Not this one.  Dare he ask what she carried in it?  Too personal a question too soon?  He wet his lips ready to change topics when Trina spoke.

“Thank you.  I’d love to dance.”  Trina stepped closer to him.  “Been a while since I slow danced.”

Mick chuckled.  “Easy to remember.  Like riding a bike.  Of course, unless you like to lead.”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to?” Trina grinned, raising her arms.  “Maybe you better show me how this is done.  You know I might need a bit of private tutorial here rather than out there.”  She point to the open dance floor.

He glanced over his shoulder.  “Okay, one tutorial coming up.  Then we make our way across the gym and back.  This is the slow long songs portion of the evening.”

Trina nodded her understanding and moved closer until he could easily see her in the darker portion where they stood.  He took a hold of her wrist, instructing her as he did.  “You hand goes on my shoulder.  A light touch is fine.”  

He reached for her other hand; Trina held it out to him.  “This one goes with this one?”  She touched his palm with two of her fingers.  Heat burst off her deep into him and jaggedly made its way up his arm. Mick swallowed hard and nodded.  Did she realize what affect she had on him?

Trina pressed her lips together.  Letting out a startled gasp might send him moving away.  Heat like this hadn’t happened since her late husband.  The one man---human not shapeshifter---who understood her and ignited a sexual chemistry that kept its volcanic explosions going until illness claimed him.  Too bad, he turned out sterile. A child or two by him to remind her of the passion and love they shared would’ve eased the pain and sorrow.  She blinked pushing the five year old past memories back to where they belonged, deep in the memories of another time in her life.  She’d come here to start over and it appeared she’d chosen a good place to do so.

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HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!!

Looks like things are heating up between Mick and Trina!  This dance looks like the smoldering waves of passion and desire are sparking already.  And the first embrace hasn't begun.  I think this might set off a few of the fire alarms and sprinklers.  What do you think? 

I'm waiting to hear about a new story I've got out on submission.  As soon as I know more, I'll pass the information along.  You can visit my personal webpage at solaragordon.wordpress.com and click on books coming soon for a blurb on TOGETHER AGAIN, book one in my Pacific Cay series.

Keep warm as winter sneaks in its last few icy tickles and spring warms its way into your daily routine.  Sharing a good book or two with your spice and loves will warm you up too.  

Until Next Week,

Solara