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= THE FIREMEN'S DANCE =

Dark Fantasy

by John Argo


2.

title by John ArgoHe whistled.

She saw the wine and made a face. "Not on our way, darling. We can have a few glasses at the dance." She stood tall on stiletto heels, angled sideways, holding a cigarette to her lushly rouged lips. Her dark eyes gave him a sultry daring look while she put her hands on her hips and cocked her tight buttocks toward him. The crushed velvet chocolate-colored minidress veiled only the sharp angles of her hips and waist. It left her fine back bare, as well as her shoulders which had a pink sheen, as if the soft lamplight loved to fly into every pore in her silky young skin. The light caressed her strong, wiry youthful legs. He clapped softly, thinking her the most sexy woman alive.

"Watch this," she said, wreathed in cigarette smoke. She produced an item of clothing the same color and texture as her miniskirt and, using the tiny eye hooks provided for that purpose, turned the miniskirt into an ankle-length skirt that reached her ankles. "Voila!"

"Bravo," he said clapping.

"Kind of a cold night to walk to the dance," she muttered. She carelessly, hurriedly threw the cigarette in an ashtray and prettied her long dark hair before the mirror one more time. "We'd better go, Perry sweetheart, I don't want to miss a thing."

He put on his heavy overcoat over his best brown suit. He held her fine wrap in the air and she stepped back into it. He nuzzled her shoulder and neck, feeling the warmth of her skin, the beat of her blood, the faint smell of soap from her bath. "I'm going to make love to you later," he whispered into her ear.

She giggled, rubbing against him. "I can't wait!" Her smile was ivory in the glossy redness of her lipsticked lips. "Hurry."

"Better put this on," he said, holding up her old dark-green coat.

"Oh that thing!" she pouted. For a second he thought she would cry.

"It's okay. We can leave it outside. Nobody will see it. I want you to be warm."

"Oh, okay!" She let him drape the worn coat over her shoulders. She smiled bravely. She fluttered a kiss against his cheek, took his hand, and towed him along.

Outside, the wind flowed rustling amid huge tree crowns like an ocean current. Clouds drifted fitfully before an alarmed moon whose face seemed frozen in an eternal yell of shock.

"Windy!" he said, laughing as he ran after her. They did not look back.

She was a bundled figure running up a grassy slope. "Try to catch me!" her voice flew faint and fragile through the blowing air.

It was such fun to be out on a night like this! They ran - and laughed and played. When they came to the sidewalk along the main street, they brushed themselves off. "We must be serious," Jane said as several glowering pedestrians passed. A woman glanced back, her mouth set in a light grimace of disapproval, her eyes envious of their youth and good looks.

They fairly danced to their car, the small British sportster. The black canvas top was tightly buttoned down, and the plastic windows were beaded with moisture. Inside it smelled of motor oil and leather seats — smells Jane associated with Perry's manliness. She kissed him impulsively as he started up the car.

"Why don't we do this more often?" he enthused in a sudden fit of warmth. "Darling, we do have so much fun together, don't we?"

She lit a cigarette and laid her head back. "Yes," she said amid a column of exhaled smoke that wiggled against the luster of the street lights on her skin. "We're lucky in spite of all. It's just — ."

"Just what, darling?" Perry asked as he enjoyed the feel of the shift knob, the tight responsiveness of the clutch as the powerful little car sailed over wet, leafy streets.

"I don't know — that — sickening sense of loss sometimes."

"Oh yes," he said. He knew that feeling. "Try to push it away, sweetheart. Don't let it spoil our evening. We get out so little as it is."

She glanced at his strong wrist. "Are you wearing your bracelet?"

"Yes!" He held up his arm briefly as they waited at a red light. "I thought I'd lost it for a while, but I found it again." She'd given it to him on his last birthday.

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