16. Willow
SIXTEE N
Willow
T he moment I see Ben I look around and realize why they are frozen. The entire room is filled with candles of every size. Long slender ones in a candelabra on the dining table. Chunky ones on plates adorn the kitchen island, bookshelves, accent table by the front door. Even every mason jar we painted has one, plus all those we didn't get a chance to paint are illuminated, as well. In the candlelight we are all dancing our asses off.
There are shot glasses on every table, eleven all told including coffee and side. Every bottle from the bar keeps them good company. We have tasted them all, sometimes just but a sip. Like the cinnamon schnapps, for example. That was a bit much for most of us, save for Maggie. It’s her favorite.
Steven is stretching out on a yoga mat, centerstage of the room, wiggling to the music in Downward Dog position. Maggie and Pete are swing-dancing in their sun hats, and Maggie’s is huge — reminiscent of the 1940’s. Pete’s is more something you would see on Safari. The beautiful Brooklyn girls changed into club mini dresses, explaining at the time, “We brought these just in case we went into Atlanta!” “You never know when a party is going to break out!” Marco, in a white linen suit, is standing atop a sofa, barefoot. Dax is in all black, including eyeliner heavy for the occasion, fringed shirt flowing with the dance. Laura is wearing a blue shift dress and comfortable heels. I changed into a sundress of random flowers with spaghetti straps and a very low back. Sylvia and Rachel have us all beat with feather boas somebody left behind during a Halloween retreat many years ago, we were told. They tried to give them to us but we said that since they weren't changing clothes they needed them. Every single one of us is five sheets to the wind!
Rachel hurries over, “Oh no, my two favorite men in the whole wide world, were you hoping for dinner? We forgot about it.”
I was already standing by the door, so I hold my hand out to Ben. "Dance with me!”
He looks at his Dad, frowns, takes my hand, and spins me toward him. Up against his body I plummet. “It's like slamming against a car,” I announce. The Brooklyn girls scream in happiness, dancing their fun-loving hearts out. In fact, nobody stopped but me and Rachel.
Jaxson decides to join in, pulling his wife into his arms. As if in an attempt to drive my heart to dangerous limits, the playlist changes to More Than A Woman, also by the Bee Gees. Suddenly, I'm slow dancing with the most gorgeous man. My chin upturns to find him gazing down at me. Our hips swing, bodies moved by the music. A delicious warmth launches into every cell that I am. My heart races ahead of our foot steps and, struggling to make sense of it all, I lay my head on his chest, resting in the nook his thick neck and rock-hard shoulder afford. His arms secure around me, fingers spread until they both find the base of my lower back, half on skin, half fabric. He stays there as we dance, holding me close.
Ben smells like soap and fresh air, and I take advantage of the close proximity to inhale and drink him in while I can. I smile as he begins to sing some of the lyrics, absolutely melting me.
Here in your arms I found my paradise
My only chance for happiness
And if I lose you now,
I think I would die
Forever imprinted in my mind, is this song, this moment. And we dance like this until it ends. When it does, I almost feel I will die. Taking its place is a faster one, Brick House by The Commodores, and I push him away, forcing us to separate lest I do something very inappropriate. The room around us goes nuts, everyone singing the lyrics and gyrating emphatically.
She’s a brick…house.
She’s mighty mighty.
Just letting it all hang out.
Yeah she’s a brick…house.
She’s the one. The only one.
Built like an Amazon.
Chicka bow chicka bow bow…
Grinning my butt off, I lean forward to whisper to Ben, "I found my smile," He cocks his head, so I tell him that my friend, Gemma, said I’d lost it.
He smiles, "I can relate to that,” takes my hand and says, “Come on."
To the front door I follow him, feeling like I'm floating, major reservations melted by whiskey, tequila, vodka, schnapps, and everything else you can think of. Outside, he closes the door and plants me against the wall next to it, caging me in with both muscular arms on either side of me. The world becomes Technicolor. He’s inspecting my face like someone thinking of painting it later by memory, traveling over every angle. One of his hands comes up, starting at my temple, stroking my hair in one slow swoop. His hand slides all the way down my back, running inch by inch down my naked spine, inspiring heat throughout my body. He pauses and stops just above my tailbone.
"What is it about you, Willow?”
“I don’t know.”
"Were you raised in Venice? "
"You know where I'm from?” Realizing what this means, I say it aloud. “You asked about me.”
Ben’s voice is deeper. “Maybe it was offered."
I shake my head. “You asked."
He smirks, then it disappears as we stare at one another. “I can’t trust myself right now.” Under his breath he adds, “Not something I’m used to."
"What will you do?"
"I might kiss you."
I can feel how hard it is for him to not kiss me, the stiffness in his jeans obvious against my body. "Might?” I whisper, closing my eyes despite my better judgment.
He rasps, “I will. I want to. Let’s sit down.”
I sigh, “Good idea,” though that’s not what I want to say at all. I want to say, kiss me. What are you waiting for? I can feel you want me. I want you so bad.
But he’s married.
And I just can’t be that woman.
This is crazy!
We make ourselves comfortable on the edge of the porch, feet on the steps below, my toes wiggling in my sandals from nervousness. Or is that just another word for excitement?
Ben clears his throat and says, his voice louder, like he’s struggling, but more certain, “Tell me about you. I want to know everything.”