"The Bet"

This is what happens when I lose a bet ... I have to write something romantic for a woman ... well ... I have also entered this in the Richard Hugo House "One Foot On The Floor" writing competition. The premise is that the piece cannot be overtly sexual, it must be romantic and sensual, like back in the day when all scenes in movies had to have "one foot on the floor" in order to not be considered obscene. The romance of some of those old movies far outweighs the romance of many modern films precisely because so much was left to the imagination ...

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THE BET

I felt the skin on her back as we slowly danced in the crowd. Smooth like satin, I longed to explore it further. If it was that soft on her shoulder I could only imagine how soft it is elsewhere. The dress had caught me off guard. Strapless. Black. Short. Flirty. It moved with her as she swayed to the Latin beat. Beads of sweat on my forehead were not from the heat of the dance floor, but from the thoughts swirling through my head. She could move. And, if she could move like that here I could only imagine how she could move without a crowd somewhere more private. We swayed gently, slowly, like we had been together before in other ways. Her right hand was gently resting in my left and her left rested softly on my right shoulder. Was I imagining it? Or, was her left hand slowly caressing my arm? I hastened a glance, trying not to look as nervous as I was starting to feel. Fortunately, she was looking away and I did not make eye contact, for at that moment I was susceptible to influence and the eye contact with her would have betrayed my real thoughts. And then I felt it. She kissed my neck, softly, and then again. Her face remained close to the spot, breath warm and inviting. For a moment, I tried to ignore it, but that lasts about 3.2 seconds before I lean down and kiss her. I skip the whole neck or cheek step and proceed directly and firmly to her lips. SheÂ’s surprised, but responds. She kisses back, firmly too. The kiss lingers several seconds longer than I expected, then we both pull away. Her eyes were closed, but with a content smile crossing her face. I lean in and kiss her again. Her arms reached up, heads pulling my face down, holding it to where she could control the force and duration of the kiss. The song had stopped; the band on a break. But, we stood there, swaying, embraced and lost in the moment that was now more than just a mere moment. My hand slowly works it way down her back to her waste, pulling her closer. At this point we are in need of moving away from the dance floor and her next reaction tells me our minds are on the same page. She takes my hand and starts to pull away. With her other hand she places one finger on my lips as if to keep me silent. Her eyes glance back to our table in the corner by the stairs and she begins to lead me ...