Somehow they had a tradition.
Certain songs brought out certain things in each. One song, everytime it would come on the radio, she would stop the car, get out and listen to it, leaning on the car. (They eventually did it as a duet)
Another song, they got up and danced.
The first time, they were both on their computers. A boring, email catch up morning. She had a look in her eye, which he had always taken before as her Sex Look. Now he understood it was her Seduction Look. And it was the same thing she gave the audiences when she was Red Hot.
"You know how to play Mirror?" And she began dancing. He couldn't keep up, and was careful not to stretch beyond his boundaries or to make any sudden movements. Even after a lifetime of yoga, he envied her pure movement. Matching her body to the music, it was like the dreams he had about flying.
But she was careful to include him, and after a few times, they almost began a routine that accommodated both of them well. She still rocked out during a few moments, but he would hold himself, waiting for her. "Come Unto Me", as someone waiting for the seduced partner to give themselves over eagerly.
They made quite an odd pair, but it was a lovely synergy. She saw them as a series of runers, passing batons off. He had received music from his icons and she would pas hers off when it was her time to.
As they danced, he imagined her easily, years later, long after he had passed away. He LONGED to see her old, and stopped once on the subway, missed his train, to just stand and stare, subtle-y out of the corner of his eye, a version of her, older. Older than him, even. A woman in her 80's. Bright eyes, mischievous and with a fire still burning. He wanted to keep looking. It brought him an ache that had never existed in him before. He wanted to see her, to watch over her. To find out how her own story would come out.
And years later, it was the moments of dancing. Spinning to "All the Things You Are" that she would carry with her. The feel of his thin body against her breasts. His beard, his boots, stepping on her feet or her stepping on them. And the smile across his face, as "Come Unto Me" became more elaborate. Moves worked out, the moment when she spins into him and they look closely into each other's smiles. His hand holding her balanced in place, against him. And his eyes, held for just a few beats, until the music kicked in again.
She dreamed she could hold his gaze forever in those beats of silence.
"Come Unto Me" The Mavericks, Specifically
Certain songs brought out certain things in each. One song, everytime it would come on the radio, she would stop the car, get out and listen to it, leaning on the car. (They eventually did it as a duet)
Another song, they got up and danced.
The first time, they were both on their computers. A boring, email catch up morning. She had a look in her eye, which he had always taken before as her Sex Look. Now he understood it was her Seduction Look. And it was the same thing she gave the audiences when she was Red Hot.
"You know how to play Mirror?" And she began dancing. He couldn't keep up, and was careful not to stretch beyond his boundaries or to make any sudden movements. Even after a lifetime of yoga, he envied her pure movement. Matching her body to the music, it was like the dreams he had about flying.
But she was careful to include him, and after a few times, they almost began a routine that accommodated both of them well. She still rocked out during a few moments, but he would hold himself, waiting for her. "Come Unto Me", as someone waiting for the seduced partner to give themselves over eagerly.
They made quite an odd pair, but it was a lovely synergy. She saw them as a series of runers, passing batons off. He had received music from his icons and she would pas hers off when it was her time to.
As they danced, he imagined her easily, years later, long after he had passed away. He LONGED to see her old, and stopped once on the subway, missed his train, to just stand and stare, subtle-y out of the corner of his eye, a version of her, older. Older than him, even. A woman in her 80's. Bright eyes, mischievous and with a fire still burning. He wanted to keep looking. It brought him an ache that had never existed in him before. He wanted to see her, to watch over her. To find out how her own story would come out.
And years later, it was the moments of dancing. Spinning to "All the Things You Are" that she would carry with her. The feel of his thin body against her breasts. His beard, his boots, stepping on her feet or her stepping on them. And the smile across his face, as "Come Unto Me" became more elaborate. Moves worked out, the moment when she spins into him and they look closely into each other's smiles. His hand holding her balanced in place, against him. And his eyes, held for just a few beats, until the music kicked in again.
She dreamed she could hold his gaze forever in those beats of silence.
"Come Unto Me" The Mavericks, Specifically
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