Never Say Never (6 page)

“You’re not blinking.” Sara’s voice floated quietly into my left ear. I jumped and turned to meet assessing green eyes.

One eyebrow was raised. I couldn’t quite read her expression.

Questioning? Mocking? I could feel the heat rising in my face. “Or breathing, either.” Her tone now definitely mocking.

“Breathe, Les, before you pass out.” She picked up my wine glass and placed it in my hand. “Have a drink.” I took a big sip as she leaned a little closer, making sure she was out of earshot to the others. “Well, well, well,” she asked. “Tell me, is she your type?”

“Only in my dreams,” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t sure if Sara heard me or not. I took another drink and nearly choked when Sara elbowed me. Smiling sweetly, she inclined her head toward Michelle when I slid her an annoyed look. I turned to see that Michelle had shifted, her attention directed toward the two of us.

“How could you tell that we weren’t from around here?” Sara leaned forward on the table, her upper body leaning across me so that Michelle could hear her better.

“No accent,” Michelle replied, then changed her voice to mimic a southern twang. “Most folks from down here in ‘lanta have an a-ac-cent.”

“What about you? You don’t have an accent either.”

“I’m from Phoenix originally. I came to school here and haven’t found a good reason to leave.”

The two of them bandied chatter and laughter for some time.

I began to phase out, barely listening as I watched. Back and forth, from one to the other. I was aware of each’s perfume, her laughter, her eyes.

I nursed my drink carefully, thankful that I had a few moments to gather my wits. It was then that I literally choked when I heard Michelle’s question.

“You two are not a couple?”

I coughed hard and shook my head, my eyes darting wildly to Sara, who was taking the question quite calmly.

“No, we’re not. We’re friends.” She patted me on the back and looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“Just fine,” I replied, putting on the best nonchalant face I could muster.

“Did you leave anyone special behind when you came down here?”

Sara harrumphed and shook her head. I simply said no.

“Good,” was her reply. I looked at her quietly to be certain. Yes, she had definitely directed the comment toward me. A number of Billy’s friends chose that moment to swoop over to the table, becoming loud and distracting us from our conversation.

The music changed from country to a popular dance tune, and everyone left tables behind for the dance floor. Michelle leaned closer, her eyes burrowing into mine.

“Thank goodness! I hate country music,” she smiled. When I agreed with her, she reached for my hand. “Dance with me.” A slow panic began to rise in me. Dance? I hesitated as I replied, “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve drunk enough to make a fool out of myself.” I tried to joke, knowing it was lame.

She smiled anyway, then snapped her fingers as if she just had a brilliant idea. “Don’t go away. Good thing this is a long song.” She jumped from her seat and threaded her way to the bar.

“Where’d she go?” Sara interrupted her other conversation to ask.

“To get a drink.”

“Is she coming back?”

“I don’t know.” I looked up and watched Michelle turn away from the bar, a glass of wine in her hand. She raised the glass and grinned when she saw me watching her. “I think so.”

“My, my. You sure work fast,” Sara teased just as Michelle placed the drink in my outstretched hand.

Michelle stood beside the table, looking down at me. “Okay, drink up. I did my part.” I sighed and took a long sip. “C’mon, the song’s nearly over.” She looked at Sara momentarily. “You don’t mind, do you, Sara?”

“Not at all,” she replied in her polite business voice.
Of course
she wouldn’t mind. Why would she mind?
I glanced at her briefly and shrugged before following Michelle out to the dance floor.

I was terribly self-conscious. I took a few moments to acclimate myself by moving side to side very simply as I observed the woman before me. I was surprised to note that she was shorter than I am by several inches. She was solid, but petite. Before long I couldn’t help myself, so I had to ask.

“Why ask me to dance instead of Sara?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Two reasons. One, I don’t mess with straight women.”

I was incredulous. “How did you know she’s straight?” She shrugged. “Sixth sense. You can’t tell me that you don’t have it too?”

“You’re right. I usually do.” We moved around the floor a little before I laughed and drew closer to her. “I thought maybe you came over so you could meet her.”

“Then why would I be dancing with you?”

I shrugged. “Too shy to talk to her?”

“I don’t think so!” She shook her head and laughed at me. “I assure you that if I want to talk to a woman, I don’t usually dance with someone else just to get up the nerve.” I gave her an appraising look. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” I laughed. “What was the second reason?” I asked.

She replied but I couldn’t hear her. “Excuse me?” I motioned that I couldn’t hear her. Michelle reached out both hands and grabbed mine, tugging me closer as she called, “Because I think you’re very attractive.”

Flustered, I looked away and happened to catch Sara’s observing eye. I didn’t look back at the table again.

We danced. Uncertain at first, trying to find the rhythm. I fell into a side-to-side shuffle. Feeling stiff and awkward, I focused on Michelle’s body. The song was a light, flirty tune, and her movements matched it. She was playful and teasing, having fun, and a wonderful dancer. Watching her was at once inspiring and seductive. I grinned happily and was rewarded by her unabashed smile and a particularly delightful move. Magically, everyone else in the room receded.

For a brief moment, I stopped moving and stepped back, hands on hips. She laughed as I scrutinized her moves. I continued to watch her, feeling the music, and stepped in closer. The real dancing began. I followed her moves, delighting in my ability to keep up. It was so incredibly exhilarating. I giggled as she raised her eyebrows and widened her grin. “You can dance!” she called, surprised. I wasn’t offended.

We didn’t miss a beat as the song changed, slipping into yet another wildly popular song with a heavy beat. The song expressed seduction, passion, and just a hint of raunchiness. Our movements reflected the change.

Michelle spun away now, appraising me. She grinned, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she stepped forward and into my rhythm. She was in front of me, then behind, all the while her body hovered against mine. She teased, she taunted. Her movements matched, then countered my own. We continued to play the game. Smiling. Laughing. Nearly wrapping around each other, in and out, but never quite touching. Our bodies reacted and followed, smoothly, subtly, blatantly, heatedly.

The song faded out without the usual mix of a new one. The emcee sashayed out to announce that another drag show was about to get underway. Michelle booed loudly before turning and bowing neatly before me. “I could have danced with you all night,” she called before giving me a quick thank-you hug.

“That was fun. I never get to dance like that any more. Thank you.” I was completely sincere, wishing that the music had continued longer. On impulse, and completely uncharacteristic of me, I dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. I was exhausted, but happy.

“Will you come back then? Another night?” The crowd was thinning, making room for the show to begin.

“Of course. I’d love to.”

Billy hooted from the table. He was whistling as we got closer, pointing at the two of us, hooting and throwing catcalls. Then he and Michelle began teasing each other as my face grew redder and reality set in.

I didn’t dare meet Sara’s eyes as I slid into the chair beside her.

What must she be thinking?

“Well, you certainly didn’t dance like that at the Christmas party last year.” Sara’s voice had that mocking lilt.

I groaned inwardly and met her eyes, fully expecting to suffer the brunt of more teasing. She was smiling at me over the rim of a wine glass, one eyebrow raised.

“I haven’t danced like that in years.” I felt defensive, exposed, and terribly uncomfortable.

“Then you should do it more often.”

Was that a compliment?

She shook her head slowly and tsked with her tongue. “I had no idea.” she mused.

What did that mean? I felt a warm hand on my elbow and turned to find Michelle’s dark eyes inches from mine. “It’s getting awfully late. I have to work tomorrow, so I have to leave now.”

“Hmm.” I glanced at my watch. Nearly one o’clock. “Yeah, we should probably be leaving too.” Her hand was resting on my forearm now.

“Will you tell me where you’re staying? We have a date, right?” She smiled hopefully.

“Of course. The Ritz in Buckhead.”

“Ooh, very nice,” she purred playfully. “No room number?” I laughed a bit uneasily. “I don’t like to give out my room number ...”
As if I so often had occasion to do so.

“I understand. I’ll call then, okay?”

“Great. Thanks again for the dance and the drink.”

“Entirely my pleasure.” She squeezed my hand and gave me a final smile before saying goodbye to Sara and Billy and threading her way toward the front door, waving to many as she went.

The drive back to Buckhead was a relatively quiet one, with Billy monopolizing most of the conversation. I tried not to squirm too much as I fended off his comments and questions about Michelle. Sara remained strangely quiet.

Sara was also noticeably absent the next day. I put my ear to the adjoining door, hoping that the silence on the other side didn’t mean anything. But she never appeared after breakfast. It wasn’t until after noon that Billy ran into me and mentioned that she had taken a morning flight back to Boston for the weekend.

I don’t think he noticed my anxiety or confusion.

God. Last night must have really put her off.
You really blew
it this time, Les,
I chided myself.
Blew what? It’s not as if there was
something to blow.

“I did hear from Michelle today, though,” Billy told me. “She wanted to call your hotel but didn’t know your last name. I hope it’s okay that I gave it to her.”

“Of course.” My thoughts turned to Michelle, and I decided that if a message was waiting when I got back to my room, I wouldn’t bother returning to Boston that weekend.

I wasn’t disappointed. Michelle had left a message just after three o’clock, and I wasted no time returning the call. We agreed that she would pick me up for dinner at seven-thirty, and I found myself humming once the phone was firmly in its cradle.

With two hours to kill, I paced nervously, wondering what I would do as I waited. I decided to call Susan. Although she was initially disappointed that I wouldn’t be coming home, she was excited when I told her about Michelle.

“You dog,” she teased.

“She’s hot, Susan.”

“My type?”

“Your type. My type.” We continued to banter for a while and, before finally hanging up the phone, I assured her that I would tell her all the details.

I waited until precisely seven-thirty before leaving may room and heading for the elevators. Michelle was lounging in a chair to one side of the lobby, smiling slowly as she watched me approach. I took a deep breath, wondering how she managed to look even better than I’d remembered. She was dressed simply in black pants and a short-sleeve white cotton blouse. Her thick short hair looked unruly, as though she had just run her fingers through it. A thin gold chain winked at me from her throat.

“Hi.” She smiled as she unwound her small body and stood.

“Hi.” I swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t notice my nervousness.

She led me outside and into the evening breeze, making polite conversation as we walked. We ended up at a small Italian restaurant in downtown Atlanta, where the aroma of herbs and garlic was nearly as intoxicating as the bottle of red wine that we shared.

I needn’t have been so nervous. Michelle was charming and entertaining, and she went out of her way to put me at ease. She spent the first hour telling me amusing stories about her first few years at college at Georgia State. I realized, as I listened, that there was a time in my life when I would have considered her too outgoing, too gregarious for my own tastes. But now, I found her incredibly appealing.

“What have you been doing since then?” I asked her. “College, I mean.”

She wrinkled her nose, her cheek dimpling. “I haven’t decided yet what I want to do. I have a degree in physical education.” She grinned and lowered her voice. “No dyke gym-coach jokes, okay?”

I laughed.

“I thought about teaching for a while, but I’m uncomfortable with the thought of going back into the closet. Know what I mean?”

“I sure do.”

“I’m enjoying myself and biding my time while I can afford to do it. But I’ll have to decide sooner or later.” She took a sip of wine and continued. “Right now I’m doing part time work to get by. I tend bar at the club where we met the other night, and I also give golf lessons at a local country club.”

“Golf lessons?” My ears perked up. I loved golf. “Six days a week.” She nodded. “You play?”

“Not well and not often. But I love golf.”

“Great. Maybe you’ll play with me while you’re here?”

“I’d love to.” I looked down at the small hands that were wrapped loosely around a wine glass. My eyes traveled up her forearms and rested on the softly outlined muscles. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed before.

“Tell me how you met Billy,” I asked.

“He used to work out in the gym at my college while I was a TA.”

“You’ve known him for quite some time then.” She shrugged.

“Only about a year and a half.” I did some mental calculations and was a little confused. She was in college a year and a half ago?

Suddenly it dawned on me.

I squinted and leaned across the table. “Just how old are you, may I ask?”

She grinned a little sheepishly. “Twenty-three. Next month.”

“Ha!” I sputtered. “You’re a baby!”