Don't forget to visit Blisse Kiss Central after you've savored this kiss. You'll find lots more Sunday snogs to keep your heart beating faster than normal.
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"Please don't
cry, Jen."
A male voice, full
of warmth. A strong hand on her shoulder. Jen turned to the
source, blinking to clear her vision. A young man stood beside her,
dressed in a brown uniform she didn't recognize. His straight black
hair was parted on the side. His even-featured face wore an
expression of concern. Something tickled the back of her brain, some
vague sense of familiarity.
"Do I know
you?" she asked. She must look horrible, she realized, with her
eyes swollen and her skin blotchy. She sniffled and stood straighter.
"Well, not
exactly." His grin made him look more boyish. He had a cleft
chin, she noticed, and dimples in his pale cheeks. "It's
complicated." He laughed, and Jen discovered she couldn't help
joining him.
"What
do you mean, complicated?" she continued when her giggles
subsided. Something about her companion made her feel totally at
ease.
"I'll explain
later," he said. He brought his hand out from behind his back.
Between his thumb and forefinger he grasped the stem of a single red
rose. "For you, sweet Jennifer. A token of my esteem."
How did he know her
name? She took the blossom. Its heady perfume surrounded them.
"Thank you. But if we've never met..." she began.
"I'm Daniel,"
he interrupted. "You can call me Dan." He leaned on the
rail next to her, gazing out over the lake. "It's lovely here,
isn't it? Even with the music, there's a quiet calm that's healing
to the soul."
Jen didn't answer.
It didn't feel necessary. On the opposite shore, the amusements
twinkled like a faraway galaxy.
"In the old
days, there was a dance pavilion here on the point. On summer nights
like this it would be crowded with couples of all ages, from
seventeen to seventy. The trolleys brought us here from town. The
whole place was strung with lights. It was a fairy land."
Daniel took her
hand. It felt so natural that she scarcely noticed. She was caught up
in the picture he was painting of a happier past.
"The orchestra
played from dusk until midnight. Admission was a nickel. Over there"
-- he pointed toward a clump of trees to their left-- "they sold
refreshments: sweet corn, lemonade and shaved ice with syrup..."
"The night we
met," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulder, "I
bought you a raspberry ice. It made your lips purple. I just had to
kiss you..."
Just like that, he
did. His mouth was gentle but Jen still felt the passion as he
pressed his body against hers. Strange electricity sparked between
them. He kept his mouth closed. Wanting more, wanting to taste him,
Jen teased the seam where the lips met. He relaxed and allowed her to
entangle their tongues. Pulling her to his chest, he ran his hands
down her back to her waist. Her nipples peaked under her thin dress.
She rubbed them against the odd, rough-woven fabric of his shirt.
Between her thighs she began to melt.
The kiss made her
dizzy. Perhaps she wasn't getting enough oxygen. The world spun
around them, but there was no chance of her falling. Daniel held her,
strong and secure.
Gradually the
whirling ceased. Dan brushed his lips against hers one last time,
then drew back. His left hand rested between her shoulder blades. The
other held hers, out to the side. Jen became aware of music. She
clutched his belt as he led her in a sprightly waltz.
They moved together
across the floor of an octagonal pavilion, its wooden roof supported
by carved pillars. Strands of bright bulbs sparkled overhead,
radiating from the center to the periphery. Other couples danced
around them, the women in tunics and slim, ankle-length skirts, the
men wearing cuffed trousers and waistcoats or uniforms like Dan's.
She felt the fabric of her own skirt fluttering around her calves.
"How...where...what's
going on, Daniel?" She looked up into his warm brown eyes. His
ripe lips curved into a smile and those adorable dimples winked at
her.
"Never mind,
my sweet. Just dance with me."
He led
her with grace and confidence. Jen found that if she simply relaxed
into his arms, following was effortless. As the music slowed, he held
her closer. A hard bulk at his groin pressed against her belly.
Languid arousal washed over her in waves. I must be
dreaming, she thought. She never
wanted the dream to end.
They swayed
together. Jen closed her eyes, breathing in his scent of fresh-cut
wood and lavender. When she leaned her head on his chest, she
could hear his heart, strong and regular. She felt their breathing
synchronize.
The waltz went on
forever. Then the music stopped. The lights went dark. They still
stood, holding each other, at the center of the floor. The orchestra
and the other dancers had disappeared.
The summer wind
ruffled Jen's hair. The forest stirred around the deserted pavilion.
"Come home
with me, Daniel," she whispered. He answered with a kiss,
sweeping her back into her voluptuous dream-state.
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