Seems Like Old Times (23 page)

His arms circled her, and he slowly drew her closer to
him. She didn't draw back as their eyes met.

"Dance with me?" he whispered.

She nodded.

His fingers started at her shoulders then traveled the
length of her back, to her waist, her hips, molding her to him as they danced.

She could feel the raw desire that had teased them all
evening, making her hot, cold, and wound tighter than a top, suddenly let loose
and gnaw at her insides.

Still holding her close as he swayed to the music, he
said, "Come home with me, Lisa."

She stopped and drew back.

"Not for old times." His gaze was penetrating.
"For now."

"But..." She could think of a thousand reasons
not to go, and only one reason that she should. She wanted him, wanted to be
with him, wanted to love him. And with this feeling so strong, what did they
tell her about all the reasons that kept her away? Reasons like Bruce, like the
life she now lived? But then, didn’t she know right from the beginning where
this night would lead? And wasn’t that why she agreed to come here with him?
Why she
wanted
to come here with him?

"Our lives have gone their separate ways," he
said. "And they're both filled with other people, other obligations. But
for some reason, hard as it is to believe, you’re here, and we have this one
night to live a lifetime on. Come with me."

Still, she hesitated.

"We're a man and a woman, not kids anymore. I want to
make love to you, and I want to do it right. No kisses on a gym floor or a
school yard,
no
park benches or car seats.
My house, my bed.
Is that so wrong?"

"No, but..."

"But?"

She never could win with him.
Especially
when she didn’t want to.
He waited.

"All right," she whispered.

Silence, then surprise, relief, anticipation, and yes,
even anxiety, all flitted over Tony’s face. He took her hand and led her to the
parking lot. His eyes were dark, sultry, but with the same mischievous twinkle
that always made her want to go along with him. Just like the night of the
prom.

When the dance had ended those seventeen years ago, they
had started out for Big Bob's restaurant with friends. But, like now, she
wanted to be alone with him. He parked in a secluded area and kissed her.

Kisses weren't enough that night. She wanted him. She
wanted to be sure he'd never forget her.

I love you, Lisa...I always have.
That's what he'd
said when the fumbling and awkwardness were over. But it wasn't clumsy to her
back then. It was nothing short of miraculous that he could become a part of
her, physically join with her, like that. That he, and only he, could make her
feel whole.

A wistfulness
, poignant and bittersweet,
touched her heart at the memory of that evening. Youthful and precocious, their
feelings were so full they could have burst from the sheer pleasure of being
together. They never would have believed that the moment loomed so close when
she would have to let him go.

On this night, Tony drove the Jeep through the foggy
streets of Miwok, and in no time turned down the country lane to his house. The
front porch was lit, and Lee saw that he left a lamp on in the living room. It
cast a warm, yellow glow in the window.

They walked in silence from the car to the front door,
then into the house, into the now familiar hallway with its oak-stained chair
rails and floral wallpaper.

He showed her to the living room,
then
stopped. "Well..." He cleared his throat. "Here we are."

On leaden legs she walked into the room, then quickly went
to the sofa and sat, her hands folded on her lap. "It's nice and warm in
here."
How obvious!
she
groaned inwardly.

"You're comfortable, then?" He asked. "I
shouldn’t light the fireplace."

"No need. I’m fine. Thanks." She was about as
comfortable as she'd be sitting on a powder keg.

He took off his jacket, and laid it on a chair, then
patted his hands together, as if he, too, wasn’t quite sure what else to do
with them. "Thirsty?" His voice sounded a little choked. He cleared
his throat. "Would you like cognac, perhaps?
Or coffee?
A beer?"

"No, I On second thought, cognac sounds good."
A quick cognac, then home.
This was a colossal mistake.

"Cognac, great.
Be right
back." He hurried off toward the kitchen, and before long, returned with
two brandy snifters.

She took a sip and felt it warm her down to her toes.

He hunkered down in front of his stereo and flipped
through some CDs and tapes a moment, then stopped and reached for some old
record albums. "I just remembered an old song I've got here
someplace," he murmured.
"Perfect for tonight.
Ah!"

He stood and put the album on the turntable. "It'll
be scratchy, but you'll get the message.

She waited through a slow, melancholy big band introduction
she didn't recognize, then a silky smooth Bing Crosby type voice began to
wistfully croon, “
Seems like old times…,”

 Tears sprang to her eyes. The song captured her joy,
but her madness, too, for as much as it seemed like old times, it wasn't. And
no amount of regrets could ever undo the past.

Lee glanced at Tony, then quickly away as the refrain
ended,
Seems like old times here with you.

He noticed. "What is it?" he asked, easing
himself beside her on the sofa. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd find it
sad."

She blinked away the tears. "This isn't like me. I'm
making such a fool of myself."

With his thumb, he brushed away a tear that fell to her
cheek. "The only time you're a fool is when you criticize yourself for
opening your heart."

She raised the glass in her hand and gave a wry chuckle.
"Maybe it's just the cognac."

He took it from her and put it on the table. "Two
sips?"

"I'm easy," she said with a watery chuckle.

"No." He tilted her chin upward. "That's
the last thing you are." He leaned forward. She looked into his face,
then
lifted hers, her hands to his chest as his head
lowered. His lips met hers, softly, tentatively.

Finally.

A starburst of feelings erupted in her so powerfully, she
pulled back, afraid. Their eyes met.
My Tony.
The way she used to think of him in high school came back to her.
He's
always been my Tony.

His hands gripped her upper arms as if to steady himself;
to steady her.

She lightly ran her fingers over his face, the straight
brows, strong cheekbones, finely shaped mouth. He turned his face into her
hand, his eyelids fluttering shut as he placed a kiss against her palm.

Her body trembled and she felt a similar quiver in Tony's.
His hands slid along her back. Hers rested on his shoulders for a moment,
then
touched his neck, the back of his head. She moved
closer and their lips met a second time.

He lightly kissed each lip, the top, the bottom. She
cocked her head slightly, and her lips parted as his met hers.

Finally.

The wonder of times past, old recollections, familiar
tastes, stirring them along with something new.
Something
mature, adult, and blatantly sexual.
The hunger and longing of half a
lifetime captured them, and their kiss exploded into a mouth open, tongue
touching, head twisting,
kind
of kiss. The fervor
built, carrying them on a swell of feelings. Lust, yes, but more, much more.

He pressed close to her, she pulled him closer. He
captured her against the back of the sofa. She gathered him to her, clutching
the material on the back of his shirt in tight fists.

He touched her hair, back, shoulders, face.

She touched his ears, neck,
arms
.
As much as she had tried to deny the feelings he aroused in her, her heart was
involved, much more than she’d allowed herself to imagine. But deep down she
knew; she’d always known.

"I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do
this," he whispered.

"So have I," she said.

He stood, pulling her to her feet with him,
then
walked to the stairs. "You’re sure?"

"Yes." She smiled, and her smile was smothered
by a hard, fiery kiss he pressed on her mouth.

He took her hand as they climbed the stairs. He opened the
door, pulled her into the room,
then
pushed the door
shut behind him. Only then did he stop moving long enough to look at her.

"Finally," he whispered, echoing her thoughts,
as he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her reverently, almost like a
benediction. "Your taste, your scent, the way you feel in my hands...it’s
familiar, but strange. I feel as if you’re going to disappear on me. That this
is all a dream."

"That’s how I feel, too," she said.
"Promise me you won’t vanish and I’ll do the same."

"I promise," he whispered.

She smiled,
then
noticed he was
frowning at her. "What is it?"

"Your dress."
He put a
hand to his chin, studying it. "I’ve never helped someone out of anything
so expensive. I don’t want to hurt it."

She spun around feeling like she was floating. "It’s
got a zipper--just like normal dresses."

"Is that so,
m’lady
?"
In one quick motion, he unzipped the dress.

"Yes, James," she said in her best upper-crust
accent. "You may remove my gown now."

He helped her slide it off, then kissed her bare shoulder.
"I believe I already
have,
m’lady
."

As she placed the dress on a chair, he removed his shirt
and tie, shoes and socks. She had to smile. As teenagers, they hadn’t worried
about her prom dress or his rented tuxedo. She guessed this was another sign
that they’d matured.

In the bedroom fireplace, logs and kindling had been
stacked. He touched a match to the papers under the kindling,
then
shut the bedroom lights. She watched as he crouched,
coaxing the fire to burn stronger. She wondered if he felt the same nervousness
she did, if that was why he suddenly found other things to do. As he turned
toward her, the silver crucifix around his neck glistened in the firelight. He
looked disheveled, sexy, and completely irresistible.

She stepped toward him, covered by a black slip of satin
and lace. She no longer had the eighteen-year-old body he had known. Her
breasts were heavier, her hips wider, her bones were more pronounced and she
sagged here and there. She came to him a mature, experienced woman now, at ease
with her body and every nuance of her needs, far more than she ever had been as
a teenager.

As she looked at him, she saw the changes to his body as
well--the thickening of his chest, and the black hair that spanned it where
he’d been naked as a jaybird in his teens. The arms that used to be long and
lanky,
were hard with muscles, as were his thighs. His
stomach was a washboard of powerful sinew. Even his voice was deeper, gruffer.
Everything about him seemed bigger, sleeker, stronger...more
masculine and sexier than ever.

"Lisa," he stood and walked toward her. As he
put his arms around her, he seemed to sense her uneasiness. "Come and sit
by the fire."

A white
flokati
rug was in front
of the hearth and she sat on it, her legs curled under her, facing the fire.
Tony knelt behind her and removed the pins from her hair, one by one. When they
were out, her hair fell thick and lush past her shoulders. He raked his fingers
through it like a comb. She tilted her head back, her eyes shut, enjoying the
sweet sensuousness of the feeling.

He moved closer, settling her hips between his knees. His
hands went from her hair to her neck, surrounding it,
then
slid forward over her chest to cover her breasts. She arched back against his
solid chest. Her eyes shut as his kisses ranged along her neck and ear, his
hands and fingers stroking and caressing her.

She turned in his arms, seeking his mouth. The jolt that
hit her each time they kissed came again, stronger still now.

He slid the straps of her slip off her shoulders and arms,
then unhooked her bra and removed it. He lowered his head to her breasts. She
swayed pliantly, a moan sounding deep in her throat from the teasing, aching
pleasure of it. Her hands went to his head and her fingers gripped his hair.

He raised his head,
then
placed
his dark hand over her milk white breast. She followed his gaze and looked
down. His hand slowly slid lower over her stomach, pushing the slip down
further as he reached her black garter belt. He placed his hand over it. She
sucked in her breath.

"Want me, Lisa," he whispered. "The
way
I've want you since I first saw you last week."

She stood and let the slip fall to the floor. She removed
her shoes and stood before him wearing nothing but gray silk stockings and the
belt. She took his hand and he stood, then she unbuckled the leather belt at
his waist and unfastened the button of his trousers. Her eyes held his as she placed
her hand flat against him, feeling the hardness, the thickness and the length
of him.

He felt her touch like an electric jolt. His arms went
around her
tight,
his mouth pressed hard to hers as he
backed her onto his bed, then quickly shed the rest of his clothes. As she
reached down to unfasten a garter, he stopped her, doing it himself. Slowly, he
lowered one silk stocking, then the next.

She ached for him, wanting him inside her, sure that his
merest touch would be enough to drive her over the edge.