The Dance

Well, Dear Avid Reader,

Been quite a while and oddly enough this isn’t a new story, probably wrote it two years ago but literally did write it and not type it but now here it is. Not sure this has cured my ennui, but I guess we’ll see or not as the case may be. I hope you enjoy!



The dance is everything. The steps, the swings, the dips and the spins all come together to be greater by far than the sum of their parts.


My favourite form of travel is the train. One day, maybe, I’ll get the chance to travel one of those pan-continental journeys with restaurant car, bar, sleeper cabins and all that. Till then the dance can still be performed on the shortest of journeys, just better not to have to rush things.

Ninety-seven minutes, mid-afternoon and not too crowded is good; a modicum of privacy and a chance of intimacy without the definite ‘weirdness’ of sitting down beside a stranger in an otherwise completely empty carriage.

I’ve already taken my seat and stowed my luggage, this book already open in front of me, the tip of a pen between my lips as I gather any thoughts I consider worthy of putting to paper. Staring across the multiple platforms in the station watching travellers heading for their own individual journeys without really seeing them I am lost in my own little world.

“Is this seat taken?” came an enquiry from beside me.

“Not at all” I reply checking the automated display above the window unnecessarily, “Aye, still available” I say pointing and only then looking up at my fellow traveller. A small smile trembles about my lips as I see she is perhaps five years my junior and smartly dressed for business. Her brown hair is cut into a severe bob by my tastes but does evoke professionalism. A well cut grey suit jacket and skirt atop a plain blouse beneath and a thin gold chain visible about her pale neck where the top two buttons have been left undone.

All at once I felt scruffy before I relaxed once again being one for sartorial elegance only when the occasion demanded it. Still my t-shirt was clean and not rude and I had recently applied de-odourant. “Thanks” she answered as she reached up and placed an overnight bag in the rack above me before sitting down opposite me placing a laptop bag on the empty seat beside her. We exchanged brief smiles and eyes dropped away.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Women; you can’t live without them and you can’t shoot them… legally!” Okay, I don’t want you to come with LED screens on their foreheads like the one above the seats declaring if they are available or reserved or whatever but then again it’s always a struggle to work out if you might be interested or just being polite! It’s so much easier for you, if we have a pulse and we are not drooling (too much) we are interested! If we look like we have dressed ourselves we are probably straight and if we look like we have just stepped out of a West End salon we are probably Gay but then again you like Gays as well… you have Musicals to discuss!

The train is still waiting to leave the station and I’m scribbling in my notebook, glancing out at the Victorian architecture of the wrought ironwork holding up the roof and the passing travellers. In the corner of my eye I note the woman opposite pulling out a fancy phone, an I-phone 4 or 5 or some such and is tapping away with an occasional impatient glare out of the window.The Dance

The train gives a shudder and slowly begins to pull away, for a moment I wonder if I ever heard a whistle blowing to announce a departure in my life or is it just a preconception I’ve gathered from the movies. I glance at the woman’s phone and imagine I could find out the answer instantly but at the same time I’m happy to be ignorant of this small fact. I make another note in the back of my notebook; maybe I’ll use this idea sometime, somewhere, somewhen.

A muttered curse reaches my ears and I look up. She is staring frustratingly at her wonder of modern technology and then looks up. ‘Sorry’ she mouths blushing slightly and I shake my head indicating that I’m not offended. I close my notebook, as usual slightly frustrated that my pen doesn’t clip onto it with any semblance of neatness or even symmetry. I place it squarely in front of me and stare out of the window at the passing office blocks and high streets followed by factories; busy, empty and dilapidated. As we crawl carefully through the myriad of switch-overs and criss-crosses of railway tracks the industrial falls behind to be replace by row upon row of houses. Many of the roads are tree-lined and although many of the gardens are tiny squares, a bare minimum of ‘breathing space’ for the masses, they do go a long away to alleviating the image of suburbia being nothing other than a rat maze.

The statutory smile creeps onto my face as we achieve ‘escape velocity’ from the ‘urban gravity-well’ and the landscape opens up into vast swathes of greens and yellows and browns. Pixels of red and blue, pink and purple strive for attention amidst the hedgerows and clumps of woodlands. I feel my soul lift just as it always does.

“You’re not a city boy, then?” she asks across the Formica table between us.

My smile broadens, “Born and dragged up screaming in the urban sprawl” I answer without looking away from the passing scene outside.

“Sorry, my mistake”

I turn to face her, “No need… I do enjoy leaving the city, a strange beast I guess I am” She raised an eyebrow in response, “I suppose I know and use all the handy benefits of living in a city, but and for me personally it is a big ‘but’, being able to see what’s coming meteorologically and metaphorically speaking is desirable if not a little necessary. My soul requires a horizon more than a hundred metres away to be happy, the further the better.” I watched the smile spreading across her lips, “You guess correctly that I’ve been asked that question before! What about y’self?”

“One always appreciates a full and proper answer… is it open for discussion?”

“Everything is open for discussion, depends generally if everybody is up for discussing” I replied.

“I’m a city girl by nurture but swearing on a bible I would have to admit to being born in a small, very provincial, market town.”

“I’m a devout atheist, bible does‘nae work for me.”

She leaned forward across the table, I managed to hold her eyes although I was sure she was deliberately tempting me with her cleavage, “I’m sure I heard you describing the wants of your soul just moments ago?”

“That you did.”

“A bit of a di…”


“Yep, that’s the word.”

I grinned back at her as she leant back into her seat, “Not at all once you accept that one is a hypocrite! Anyhow I don’t think the religions of the world have the patent on the soul.”

“Maybe the trademark…” her phone interrupted with a loud beep demanding attention. She looked at me guiltily and I couldn’t help myself as I picked up my notebook, opening it dramatically and did my best ‘hrmmph’ before slamming it closed and thrusting it into my pocket.

She tilted her head forwards and looked at me. It would have worked better if she had been staring over a pair of glasses and I wondered if she was wearing contact lenses but I got the gist. I grinned even wider to show that I was just having fun with her. A slight shake of her head and she checked the message before slipping the phone into an inside pocket of her jacket.

After a moment or two she asked “Would you mind watching my things as I pop to the buffet car?”

“Not in the slightest. Do I have a trustworthy face, then?”

She spent a moment studying my features, I turned my head one way then the other before she replied, “To be honest I would have to say no, trust wouldn’t be the first word to spring to mind!”

“I should be offended but I’m not. Well, you’d better take a photo of me with that phone just in case I ‘do a runner’!” A guilty expression appeared in her eyes, “Very forward thinking! Just as long as you don’t photoshop me into a nefarious pose and put it up on the web!”

“Do I look like that sort of girl?”

“No, but now the idea is out there…”

“Hmm… possibly” she answered before turning away. My eyes of course dropped to her behind. The skirt was quite tight, stopping just shy of her knees with a split up the back which was just short enough to peak my curiosity but not long enough to satisfy it.

I took off my jacket, noting the length of the sleeves of my t-shirt that allowed the bottom edge of my tattoos to show. Stretching out my right leg beneath the table I rubbed the recurring twinge in my knee releasing a little of the tension within. The countryside flashed by outside the cocoon of the cabin, small copses and hedgerows fashioning a hectic pattern of various shades of green. I smiled as I imagined they could almost be a road map when seen from the air if you ignored the obvious man-made features of roads and lanes and houses/farms that infected the landscape.

My eyes were locked on the ever changing scene when I sensed her return, a small brown bag in her hand. She smiled her thanks that I hadn’t ran off with her belongings before placing the bag on the table and then pulling her jacket from her shoulders, folding it carefully and placing it atop her laptop bag and slipping lithely into her seat. “I guess you were trustworthy afterall.”

“Maybe… or was it simply I had nowhere to run?”

She nodded in response and lifted a plastic wrapped sandwich from the paper bag before lifting out a small bottle of white wine and a plastic cup. Her eyes flicked to mine as she lifted out a second cup, “Would you care for a drink…”

“Mal” I offered.

“Leah” she replied.

“Well I’m more a red man than a white but I’ll give it a try, hopefully I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Just a taster, please.”

“That is definitely a hope knowing the standard fare on board, generally.” She broke the seal on the bottle and poured a ‘finger’ into my cup before filling her own just over half full. I smiled recognising a seasoned traveller

I raised my cup and tilted it towards Leah, “Cheers” we offered simultaneously.

I couldn’t hide it. Pupils contracting and nostrils flaring, “Not your cup of tea, then?” asked Leah.

I suspected I was still ‘pulling’ a face, “No, not really…” I stood up and lifted my notebook and pen from my pocket, placing them on the table, “I’ll be right back.” Walking past her I could see my reflection in the carriage door ahead but I was unable to see if the object of my attention was taking the time to ‘check’ me out. One always lives in hope and perhaps it’s better not to know than to know one isn’t being checked out.

I returned promptly as there was no queue at the buffet bar with my own identical paper bag although I lifted a half bottle of Cabernet from mine and a fresh plastic cup before placing the bag on the seat beside me. “A red man as you said” she stated.

“That and quite a few other choices of libation, what did you expect?”

She smiled, “I wouldn’t say I particularly expected anything, I just hoped that you wouldn’t return with six cans of cheap lager.”

“They were all out” I replied sadly before continuing with a smile, “Lager’s always been a last refuge for me and even then sometimes I’d sooner have a strong cup of coffee.”

“So did I conform to your expectations?”

“Going with generalities and standard social stereotyping, white wine would have been on the list, especially as the sun has passed the yard arm…what is a yard arm, anyway?”

“Nautical term” she stated matter of factly.

“Thank you. Yes white wine of maybe spritzer though maybe your preferred poison of an evening might be something else…” A smile confirmed my reasoning, “Hmmm… so obviously not lager and maybe on occasion I can see you drinking pints….”

“Only when the occasion demands it.”

“Of course” I agreed, “…ever been to Dublin?”

“Yes” she grinned, “but no my only dalliance with the black stuff didn’t convert me.”

My eyes had wandered to her slim frame as I imagined the calories within Guinness and when they returned to hers there was no accusatory glare within in. She just mimed my own actions, in particular noting the edges of the tattoos beneath the sleeves of my t-shirt. “So… in the evening… vodka tonic and the occasional cocktail?” I ventured.

“She shook her head, smiling she offered “Darker.”

“Darker? Not Brandy but… Rum?”

She nodded “With a single lump of ice… a vice I picked up in the Caribbean.”

“I have sampled some of their illicit brews a long time ago… definitely clears the pipes” I said remembering the almost corrosive nature of the viscous liquid powering down my throat, “Like a fool I even took a second shot as well!”

We talked a little of our individual travails around the West Indies. I wondered if Leah was imagining those golden sands and barely dressed fellow travellers. I was definitely wondering what the woman opposite me looked like in her swimwear on the beach or diving through the azure waters over the vibrant coral reefs. I shifted a little uncomfortably in my chair.

Leah kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs beneath the table; I made no attempt to conceal my downwards look as she flexed her toes on the seat beside me. The nails were coated silver and as she rolled each one, from large to small and back again, the descending sun reflected off them individually. Even before I was aware of it I was licking my lips and blushed slightly as I looked back up.

“Dextrous toes… quite the talent…” I swallowed quietly.

Leah smiled, just a flash of teeth appearing, “True, I’ve yet to find a use for it, at least a profitable one that doesn’t involve going on National TV and making a fool of myself!”

I couldn’t help but thinking of a less public use but said “Not a fan of reality TV then?”

“I used to dabble, when it all started but then I said ‘NO, NO MORE!” she grinned wider, “Let’s face it if that is true reality the human race does not deserve to continue!”

“Darwin got it wrong?”

“It would seem so. Mind you a reality/talent/survival show with a dash of natural history; maybe that could work” Leah grinned.

“Pits of lions and tigers I’m assuming” she tilted her head to the side questioningly, “What does the winner slash survivor get?”

“A quick and painless death?” she replied.

“Darwinism Live! I’m not sure you would get it passed the censors although phrase it right and programme producers would be queuing up. So no hope whatsoever for the human race, then?”

She shook her head in reply, watching me as I pondered my response. Of course thoughts of voluntarily improving the gene pool sprang to mind and then I caught her grin and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“You weren‘t going to go with ‘for the sake of the Species’ line, were you?”

“It might have crossed, my shallow excuse for a mind, but I don’t feel so bad now I know you were thinking it too. Still. I’m past that now.”

She again raised that questioning eyebrow and I made a snipping motion in reply. “Ahh…” she paused in consideration, “You’re very open and not your average personal fact you tell a complete stranger!”

“Ah, now Leah I know your name so you’re not a complete stranger and yes I am generally honest, too honest some would think and yet I confess I rarely tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. A little fib can be such good craic at times!”

I noted she didn’t question the Irishism in the sentence. “You’re being honest about lying?”

“Or lying about being honest, I get those two confused sometimes” I grinned.

“I’m not surprised… so I should trust everything you say but not believe a word of it?”

“Aye, that sounds like good advice” I lifted my plastic cup before draining it and topping it up again. She also emptied her own and like the gentleman I wish I was I refilled it for her.

Her eyes glanced towards my left hand noting no wedding clamp or the tell-tale pale ring where people of looser morals would have removed it. “So, are you married, Mal?”

“Yes” I stated simply.

Her smile grew, “And having stated that you may or may not lie that answer is completely useless!”

I patted my pockets, “Sorry, I’m not carrying a lie detector about my person, you?” she shook her head, “Well then my advice would be to apply Occam’s Razor-”

“The simplest, most beautiful answer is generally the truth” she interrupted.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself!”

“So you’re married” she stated.

I nodded in reply, “And you?”

“No” she paused, “but in a long term relationship. You got kids?”

She took a sip of wine glancing at me nervously it seemed, “Two boys, yourself?”

She shook her head. “No, not as far as I know” she replied with the macho male cliché. I laughed loudly attracting disdainful stares from our fellow passengers. Again she pondered her next question and I felt that she changed her mind and didn’t ask the first one she thought of, “Going all the way?” she smirked.

I mirrored her grin as I composed my reply, “Two answers to that one…” I glanced at the map on the bulkhead above us, “Not quite…”


“Unknown but always hopeful!”

“Ever the optimist, are you?” she asked.

“I’ve never thought of the glass as half empty, just half drank” I said with a smile raising my cup, “Cheers”

We toasted one another and emptied our cups; Leah looked mournfully at her now empty bottle.

“They are a bit small” I offered before lifting a fresh bottle of white out of the paper bag beside me.

Raising that eyebrow again she asked “Trying to get me drunk, Mal?”

“Nope, I’ve never had much interest in drunk girls with the possible exception of March 17 and I plead temporary insanity due to inebriation on that day!”

“I have detected a few Celtic hints about you so that doesn’t surprise me, though your accent…?” she remarked.

“Aye, it is a bit fu- mucked up. Leah suggests you may have a little Irish in you?” I asked.

“No, not a drop, my mom just liked the name” she answered and her eyes studied me carefully, that twinkle sparkling like mad within them. I suspected she knew or had been subject to Mr Lynott’s sequester before.

I smiled back and continued with the Q and A with a vengeance, “So faithful in your relationship?”

“BANG!” she exclaimed, “No prisoners there!”

“Well. I admit I’ve always been fond of a little conversational escalation as long as it doesn’t involve thermo-nuclear devices” I defended myself.

She shook her head at me but the smile remained on her lips, “Am I allowed to take the fifth?”

“It would be your right to, if we were in the good ‘ole, U, S of A, but as we’re not, sure why not” I answered.

“Hmm…” she picked up her plastic cup and swirled the contents within as her other hand played with the chain around her neck pulling up a small pendant into view before it dropped back into the valley of her cleavage. I licked my lips as my eyes followed it, “Well, seeing as your own testimony is…. Unreliable, shall we say, I’ll apply the same principal…” she took a sip of her wine. “No, I’m never at no time unfaithful” she smiled.

I grinned broadly as I worked out the negatives in her statement fully aware that applying the best of my logical abilities I was still only guessing at her true answer. I tilted my own cup to her in salute.

“So escalation is the name of the game?” she asked.

“A dangerous but fun game to play” I answered.

“So… have you ever had a sexual encounter with another guy?” she held up her slim hand before I replied, “and if your life depended upon it, what male celebrity would you have sex with?”

I grinned broadly, “I haven’t had the pleasure of a homosexual encounter…“ I paused before continuing and Leah remained silent, those piercing eyes locked on mine knowing there was a ‘but’. “…but… truth be told, my first sexual experience was with another boy, a number of years before I truly knew what sex was about. As for a life-saving bonk with a celebrity I’d have to pick… does it have to be life threatening or could I choose freely?”

“Feel free” she smiled even more.

“I guess Brad Pitt wouldn’t be a terrible hardship but maybe he is a bit of a cheat as I would be thinking of Angelina… hoping for a… chance, perhaps”

She leant forwards placing her cup on the table, her forearms resting either side and her blouse hanging open exposing a further inch or so of cleavage, the lacy edges of her bra just visible, “A chance you said, that wasn’t your first choice of words, was it?”

I lifted my eyes back up to hers, no hint of issue or accusation within them, “No. not my first choice…” I blushed deeply and whispered “Sloppy seconds” before droppoing my eyes all the way to the table. She snorted, a sound that normally I wouldn’t have found remotely attractive, but today, on this train I found incredibly sexy! Out of the top of my eyes I saw her pull a face of feigned disgust. “With no ulterior motive I always had a thing for the lead singer of the Fine Young Cannibals” I added before looking up.

Her smile returned, “Can’t say I know him, I suppose I’m not allowed to use my phone to look him up?”

I shook my head and didn’t relent when she tried a sad-face and then the trembling lip. “So…” I leant forward arms also resting on the table top; our faces less than a foot apart, Leah remained where she was, her eyes flicking between my lips and eyes.

“So?” she asked.

“So, on a scale of one to ten… how much would you like to be kissed right now… and staying with one to ten, how much do you think you should resist the urge?”

Both of our tongues appeared almost simultaneously wetting our lips, “A definite seven, wanting to be kissed, but resistance seems to be varying between a four and an eight.” I watched her teeth appear and nip at her lower lip and I was about to close the gap further between us when she continued, “I know I should stop asking questions but I’m just such a curious being…” she leant back into her chair, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths, my own similarly stricken as I felt her leg beneath the table slide along my calf.

I also leant back enjoying a further movement beneath the table, “They say curiosity killed the cat but it was blessed with nine lives… always thought that was an odd saying.”

Her fingernails drummed a rhythm on the table top and her eyes eventually left mine to drop to the bland Formica surface between us. “Exactly how many tattoos have you got?”

“Just the two” I answered glancing at each of my arms in turn, “though previously I have suggested there was a third that had to be found.” I lifted the sleeves of my t-shirt in turn, “Family coats of Arms, a smart arse way of saying ‘I love Mum and Dad’!”

I held my breath as first contact, flesh to flesh, was made, Leah leant all the way forward and traced her fingertip along the motto beneath the shield on my right arm. I clenched my fists upon the table desperately wanting to reciprocate. “How many piercings do you have?”

She twisted her head, our mouths only inches apart, “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

I released my breath, “I guess that’s why I asked.”

She broke the contact with my arm, the finger trailing down to crook of my elbow as she did, I flinched minutely and Leah smiled and I was sure made a mental note at this particular sensitive spot upon my body. She turned her head to the left and the right sweeping the hair back from her ears, “One hoop in each but used to three and four and…”


“… and I used to have my right nipple pierced but it’s been a long time since I wore an adornment, not sure if it hasn’t closed up or not.”

I chewed on my tongue as I imagined chewing on her nipple, “Did it work for you?”

“It had its moments…” I was aware of Leah’s legs sliding against each other beneath the table and was highly aware of my own state of arousal. My manhood had swollen considerably and was twisted uncomfortably within my jeans with no way of subtlely re-arranging it into a more amenable position under such close scrutiny. The question I really wanted answered was whether Leah was as turned on as I was, was her pussy getting as wet as my cock was getting hard but there was escalation and there was escalation. Even if the question was answered in the positive and with the place it might lead it would foreshorten this mutual torture that I truly didn’t want to end, at least not just yet.

Of course it wasn’t my turn to ask a question. “Are you happily married?” Leah asked.

“On the whole, I am” I hoped I saw a flicker of disappointment on Leah’s features as I took a long sip from my cup weighing up various questions in my head. “Heading home today?”

I left my hand on the table minutely aware of the bare millimetres between our fingers; “No, up for business, a conference tomorrow…and a lonely evening in the second city afterwards” she replied.

“Not got a good book to curl up with?”

“I have, but it just doesn’t seem as appealing as when I bought it back in Euston… not anymore,” her fingers twitched beside mine, “and yourself, what are your plans?”

“Business as well, starting a small job tomorrow in the second city” I answered.

“A good book tonight?”

“Nope, I seem to have forgotten to bring one” our smiles broadened identically.

Leah leant back, her little finger moving fractionally as did mine so the tiniest fraction of flesh connected as we both gazed out of the widow at the scenery that rushed past. Not fast enough!

Ahead in the distance I could see the darker sprawl of Birmingham with its monolithic high rises rising up against the late afternoon sky. The two of us sat in silence, our fingertips still touching as we pondered the undiscovered country of the coming evening.


Well, all dances must come to an end, sometimes with a bow, sometimes with a handshake and occasionally with a kiss.


I stand at the hotel window looking out across the grey urban landscape as the far horizon glows with the soon to appear dawn sun. It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day even in this city of Brutalist architecture. The first rays shoot out from beyond disused chimney stacks and towering high-rises to cast long shadows towards me. I can feel the cold layer of air next to the window pane on my naked chest as I think about the previous afternoon and dancing on the train. The few hairs on my chest rise as a wave of Goosebumps erupt across my skin and the blazing fury of the sun slips silently out from behind a distant office block.

A few people and cars crawl about beneath me in the maze of city streets and I imagine all the stories and ‘dances’ that have led them here and now. I close my eyes to the vista as I feel the heavy blanket slide over my shoulders and around me. “Fuck! You’re cold!” Leah whispers as she presses her hot flesh against my back. Her nipples harden against my ribs and I feel the slight tickle of her bush against my ass. Her lips lightly nip at the flesh of my shoulder, “Do you have to go to work?”

I pull the blanket closed around us as she rests her chin on my shoulder and gazes out of the window at the rising sun. I drop my free hand down within our cocoon to her hip, as her own wrap about my waist to clasp together across my stomach. “Do you have to go to your conference?”

“I should” she answers softly without any conviction.

My fingers slip further round gliding lightly across her ass cheek, her nipples rising and falling against my back with each intake of breath; “As should I” I reply sadly.

I twist my neck and kiss her gently on the temple, “Though one should never appear to keen at these conferences or the Reps will never leave you alone!” she says with a smile.

I twist about within the blanket struggling to hold it closed behind my back, “True… and the chances of the site being ready for me straight away would be a miracle!” As our lips met in the dawn’s early light all effort at keeping the blanket around us evaporated and it fell to the floor in a puddle about our feet. My hands cupped her cheeks as hers did mine pulling us tightly together. My cock swelled rapidly against Leah’s damp bush, our tongues vying for supremacy in each other’s mouths, any thought of professional promptness dissipated with every passing second and with each and every beat of our hearts.

The coldness of the window at my back contrasted against the heat between us; Leah’s leg circled about mine as she pressed her mound against me, her labia slick and hot, slipping up and down my erection. She broke our kiss and I opened my eyes to peer deep into hers. “Mmmm… the meet and greet can go fuck itself!” she breathed as she raised herself up and found the head of my hard cock with her pussy and slowly, torturously slowly, impaled herself upon me.


I’m sitting on the edge of the bed tying my boots when I look up to see Leah standing in the bathroom door watching me dressed in a grey pencil skirt with a pair of stocking beneath which when she had rolled them up her legs had me almost pulling my clothing off again. Her head tilted to one side above her naked torso as she inserted a gold stud into her earlobe. Reaching out of sight onto a shelf in the bathroom she picks up a second stud and her eyes, full of mischief, dip to her right nipple, “Hmm… I wonder?”

“You know, don’t you, you’re far too easy to…like.” I say.

She looks up, the twinkle gone from her face and a hint of sadness in her eyes, “As are you Mal… just…too many lives in the balance.”

I nod and fight the growing urge to simply say ‘fuck it’. “Don’t feel too bad, two of my own kids in the equation as well…”


The journey back south I spend looking out of the window; only the briefest of smiles for the petite blonde with the even more petite clothing sitting opposite me. In the back of my mind I’m sure she would have happily have chatted, maybe even danced. A slight smile plays on my lips as I return my forehead to the cold vibrating glass of the coach window. If I believed in auras or life-forces or any such nonsense I reckoned I was putting out some serious vibes or major pheromones and yet I had no inclination to use them.

Half glad and half sad I watch the passing countryside as the wheels beneath take me nearer and nearer to home. It probably was a good idea not to have exchanged details with Leah… probably.


Standing at the sink rinsing plates from our evening meal and slipping them into the dishwasher beside me I find my eyes being drawn outside to the garden. I’m not seeing the trampoline surrounded by the safety net or the oddly shaped flowers of the rampant Passion Flower hiding the shed at the end of the garden but tall, grey, monolithic tower blocks with a rising sun behind them.

Behind me my boys are sat at the table, words being exchanged that might result in bickering or laughter and as the evening sun sinks so the image outside diminishes and the reflection in the glass brightens. I watch my wife enter the room, a finger moving to her lips to warn the boys not to give away her presence as she silently creeps up behind me.

The youngest giggles just as her hands slip around my waist and she hugs me tightly. Twisting my head we kiss softly, “Hiya love” I say.

“Hey babe, kids been good for you?”

“Nah. They’re banned from everything!” I reply.

A double “WHAT?” echoes around the room followed by an “awww… Dad!” We kiss deeper and longer till our eldest mutters about getting a room. We break our kiss and smile at each other as my wife’s interlaced fingers pull her tighter against my back, her breasts flattening against me and her nipples stiffening through the material of her blouse. We’re definitely taking this upstairs I think and then I note a lack of bra and an even harder point of pressure atop her right nipple.

I smile broadly, “Have you been spoiling yourself, Leah?” I ask.

“A little maybe, but I figure you might enjoy it too… there was this fella up north who seemed to think it was a bad idea!”

I twisted around in her hug, my hands dropping to her ass and pulling her tight against me much to the disgust of our eldest, “Indeed… and when you’re bad…”

~ by ftfagos on May 16, 2014.

One Response to “The Dance”

  1. As always, well worth the wait.


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