Mitchell's Mustard Blog

May 21, 2013

Funny how things turn out

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 7:49 pm

The wind whistled through the marquee to put a little chill on the evenings celebrations, the ladies still sitting at the circular tables, pulling down on their skirts or placing their partner’s suit jackets over their legs for warmth. Not quite ready to call it a night and retire to the house, just in case they miss something. The wind causing the candles on each table to dance and flicker to the rhythm of the band, casting shadows on the marquee ceiling. ‘A live band are always much better than a dj’ he thought to himself. The dance floor was filled with dance moves from different eras, the young robotic upper body movement to the twist from the older generation putting a little wear on the soles of their shoes. Strangely they are two very different dance moves but both seem to be quite fitting for the band that held their attention. He never did like coming to these events, stood at the side he watched her dance in the centre, she seemed to be the centre wave, controlling all the movement around her.
She was good at being the centre of attention, he always did like that about her. She could walk into a situation and make it her own, pull the wool over their eyes and then walk away without a second doubt from the surrounding population. She is amazing, he suddenly missed telling her so. The dance floor slowly started to thin out, the once over excited now choosing to head back to the house for cheese and wine. As she danced she turned and caught his eyes on her, she seemed to stop for a split second, she smiled, one of those adoring smiles. He blushed, felt a pulse under his skin, the hair on his arms stood in unison. She looked around at her surrounding company, looked back in his direction to catch his eye again, she playful stuck her tongue out, smiled and then went back to controlling the dance floor.
Watching her he could still feel her naked skin across the palm of his hands, her warm breath on his neck, her hair tickling his face as she rode above him.
She caught his eye again, signaled for him to come and dance. He felt flustered, he’d join her after finishing his drink he replied. He’d been carrying this drink with him for over an hour already, swirling it around in its glass in hopes it would last a little longer.
‘How bad can one dance be?’ he thought to himself.
His body suddenly ached to be held by her once again, to feel her familiar lips on his neck as they slow dance through till the morning. To out dance all the candles on the tables, to outlive the cheese, wine and warmth from the house, to still be entwined well after the band had packed up and left.
He took the last mouthful of beer from his glass and placed it down on a table, straightening his tie he stepped towards the dance floor to find her. ‘Its only a dance’ he thought to himself.
She appeared in the corner of his eye, her brunette hair cascading down the back of her white dress, the dress she always dreamt of getting married in. She was dancing with her newly announced husband, her familiar lips on his neck.

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