Still Another Saturday Afternoon

The early August afternoon was sunny, but the temperature mild. After several hours of mowing and weeding the vegetable garden, I was ready for a cold drink, and several hours of writing and editing. The work was everywhere: stories for the newspaper to research, emails to be sent, websites to be looked at, a writer's first novel to be edited, my own stories to edit, poems drafted that needed polish and then posting, along with the usual jotting down of various snippets and notes for future use.

Just as I sat down at the computer with my cold drink, she appeared in the doorway, the vision of her capturing my attention immediately, as always: denim Capri's and that pink baby doll, those glorious dark curls everywhere, big silver hoop earrings, cute pink slingbacks, and those smoldering brown eyes -- eyes that could reduce a man to a simmering pile of goo in moments. She smiled, and lit the dim hallway instantly.

"Hey baby. Taking a break from the gardens?"

"Indeed I am, mi amor. I am done out there for today. Now, I must turn my attention to my work."

"I was hoping that you would turn your attention to me, dude," she said, the smile fading ever so slightly.

"Baby, you know how much I love you. But this work is what pays the bills, most of it. And I have so much to do."

"Come dancing with me, baby," she said in an insistent whisper.

"Baby, you know I don't dance."

Her eyes gave me The Look. "Still, for me?"

I averted my eyes, briefly. "Eh, no, mi amor, but I will watch you for a bit," I said, with a small smile coming onto my face.

"Dude, dancing with me is like having sex with your clothes on, and yet, still you resist?"

"That's an interesting image, baby. Do you mind if I use that in a story?"

"Eh, you steal my words for your stories all the time. Why should this be any different? Fine, I am going out with the girls. I will be late," she said, hand on her hip.

"Baby, please do not be angry with me. I never want us to part with anger between us. But I must get some of this work done. Mi amor, please understand, okay? And if you must go, then go and have some fun. I will be here waiting patiently for your return."

She turned slightly, in full profile, framed by the light coming in from the hallways many windows. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then pivoted and took two steps toward me, her eyes on fire. "Eh, the girls are always running late. I can spare a few minutes to please the eyes of my love," she said, with the soft smile that so often tantalized me. She turned on some music, a samba, and slowly began to dance for me, and my eyes were riveted on her form, her curves, on her slow, deliberate gyration. I was transfixed, and I heard myself say "I adore you" perhaps a hundred times over as I watched her passion displayed in front of me, an audience of one. I found myself rising from my chair, and moving toward her, no longer in control of myself. Taking her in my arms, I felt her fullness meet my hands, and I nearly swooned.

"So you have gotten me to dance with you after all, my love," I whispered into her ear.

"Eh, dude. All roads lead to Rome. And I am Rome."



August 9, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.