Thunder In Her Body (6 page)

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.

“In the morning then,” he said, and his eyes were deep and shining under the orange neon light of the parking lot.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing the ranch” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.  “I can’t wait to see what you have,” she said, with an innocent smile.

“Bet you can’t,” Clare muttered under her breath from her seat in the vehicle, turning Lynette’s innocent comment into something salacious.  On the other hand, for those of Freudian beliefs, this was no slip.  Deep down inside, there was truth to the comment.

Blaze heard the quip.  They laughed.  He shut the door to the sedan and waved as they drove out of the parking lot and down Main Road toward the highway.

The ladies were quiet for a few blocks, then Lynette started that low, throaty, wicked, under-breath chortle that Clare recognized .

“Do you have any idea what just happened tonight?” she asked Clare.

Clare hesitated a bit then offered in a lighthearted way, “You know how you’re always referring to the Universe and how it works?”  It was more a statement than a question.  “Well girl, I think the Universe was on overdrive tonight,” she exclaimed with a sense of satisfaction and a hint of seriousness in her tone.  “That’s a ni-i-i-c-e gentleman-rancher,” she said, referring to Aaron.

And that was a more-than-nice Indian, Lynette thought to herself.  She was captivated by him – all of him.  It was no one thing – it was everything about him.  What she was sure about, if nothing else, was that she wanted to be with him tomorrow, and she wanted to be alone with him.  She was painfully aware of the sexual tension between them, but it was more than that.  There was a kinship with something deep within him.  She liked the way he held her.  He took nothing from her; instead he gave her something of himself, and she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.  She wanted him, there was no deceiving herself.  But more than that, she wanted to be
with
him.  She already knew a lot about him; she intuited so much from what he said, how he moved, how he touched her.  There was so much depth to him; he was clearly comfortable in his own skin and yet he was humble and unpretentious.  Could something come of this accidental meeting?  No, this was no accident.  Lynette didn’t believe in accidents.  Everything happens for a reason, she truly believed that.

Then that uneasy feeling returned.  A man, this man, could make changes in her comfortable world.  As she had said to her students many times, “people are not afraid of change.  They are afraid of
being changed!
”  She didn’t want to be changed.  She had a good life.  She wanted things to stay the way they were – but could they, if she let him into her world?

Why had this lovely man come into her world, she wondered?  Maybe tomorrow would bring some answers.  Contrary to the logical conversation she was having in her head, morning couldn’t come soon enough, till she could see him, be with him, again.

The two men didn’t talk much as they drove out the two lane highway toward the ranch.

“Nice, aren’t they?” Aaron said, obviously captivated by Clare.  “Quite an interesting pair.  Classy, pretty, smart and a hell of a lot of fun.  So different but still a lot alike.  And obviously the best of friends,” Aaron mused.

“Yeah,” Blaze answered.

He didn’t want to talk.  He needed to think.  Think about what was happening to him – what had happened this evening.  He had met a woman who infiltrated his internal world and touched special places there.  She was compelling like no woman he’d ever met.  He felt close to her; he wanted to get closer to her, to crawl inside of her skin and feel everything she was feeling.  He wanted to know everything she knew; experience everything she’d experienced.  He wanted her to know him in the same way. He wanted her to stay close, yet she lived far away from
Crystal Bend.  She was special – a kind of specialness that only comes along a few times in life. Witty, wise, caring, eloquent even about something as simple as snow.   What was this?  What had she done to evoke this kind of primal response in him?  It wasn’t her external looks alone, though she was quite lovely.  She possessed a total beauty in the way she walked, talked, moved, touched him, knew him, listened to him, absorbed him.  There was a controlled wildness about her that excited him.  He was aware of how she inhaled him.  He knew she was drawing him into her when she did.  Was it that?  Did he ingest her into himself also, knowing that her ethereal essence was what he’d longed for, for so long?  Did it blend itself with his?  Did it somehow make him feel safe, at ease, comfortable?  He was conflicted and confused and he didn’t like that feeling.  What if she left before he had the answers?  She made it clear that there was a mutual longing. But for how long could he have her near him?