The Dance

By: KRH

Moving slowly to the music cascading around them, Mary Travis laid her head against Chris Larabeeıs shoulder and sighed in contentment. The other dancers on the floor melded into the background, becoming nothing more than nondescript shapes in the darkness. They were irrelevant. Nothing mattered at this particular moment but the man who held her in his arms.

She had almost lost him this week. It had been far too close. It had scared her and she needed to be reassured.

The feel of the brushed cotton tickled her cheek and fingertips as she glided them slowly over his back. Underneath, she could feel the ripple of his muscles with each slight movement he made as he wove them around any obstacles they encountered. The occasional feather light brush of his body against her directed her to go as needed.

The smell of him tickled her nose as she inhaled deeply. She reveled in his scent. It crept into her soul, inundating every fiber of being. It pulled at her to get closer. It fed the hunger for human touch. It quenched the tendril of loneliness and emptiness that had begun to the grow within her at the thought that he could be gone without warning.

Focusing her thoughts, she forced the other sounds around her to the recesses of her mind. She wanted to hear it. Holding her own breathe she sought the steady rhythm buried deep in his chest. There. His heartbeat. She loved to listen to it. It comforted her. It made her whole.

He made her whole.

*********

Feeling the contented sigh escape the woman in his arms, Chris dropped his head slightly to get a glimpse of her features. With her head on his shoulder and the shadows falling upon them, he could only see part of her face. But it was enough. He could tell that the glimmer of fear that had been there was gone.

He too could now release the tenseness that had been tingling in the back of his mind. The tingling of his fear that she would walk away from him. The agonizing certainty that if she did, he would once again be a shell of man. He knew too well that she was as necessary to his existence as the air he breathed or the food he ate. She was his heart and soul. Without her, he would die.

Itıs not that he would of blamed her for walking away, not with the kind of life he leads. One where he could be killed at any moment.

And it had almost happened again this week.

Before it didnıt matter. But now, it was different.

Now there was another to consider. Another who cared whether he lived or died. Another whoıs life would be shattered if he wasnıt fast enough or smart enough or good enough.

In a strange way, it made him better. It made him cautious, wary. It made him look at all contingencies. To weigh all of the possible factors and outcomes before walking into a situation. Yet, even then, there were still times when something totally unforeseen could happen. Then all bets were off.

Thatıs what happened this week. He had been lucky. He had walked away unscathed. Unscathed except for the fear.

Fear in her and fear for her.

And now, it too was gone.

Alleved by a dance.

**************

As the last strands of the melody wafted away, Mary straightened, drawing slowly back from Chris. Sliding her hands from his back, she smiled at him, soaking in the sight before her.

"Ready to go now?" Chris asked quietly, running his eyes over her serene face as his fingers caressed her upper arms.

"Yes," she answered with another smile. But before he could move, she stopped him. ³Thank you,² she whispered, before reaching up to brush his lips with hers.

"Anytime. Anytime at all."

Finis