Last Dance

by Renee Fowler

  Anna slides forward, pressing her center flush against me. She moans into my mouth, and shifts against me. Feeling her heat pressed against the fly of my jeans, I let loose a low groan. My hands roam up her body, fingertips grazing over her tipped nipples. She’s panting into my mouth as she reaches between us to unfasten the buttons at the front of her dress.

  Okay, maybe it’s not staying on after all. Maybe she just meant she should keep it on in case one of the dozens of people upstairs decides to venture down here at a moments notice.

  I slide my lips off hers, kiss down the long, slender column of her neck. She only unbuttons halfway, and I close my mouth around one of her satin covered breasts. When that’s not enough, I slide my hands beneath the delicate band of her bra, and drag it up her chest.

  Her breasts are small, but perfectly proportionate to her body. Just plain perfect. I graze my teeth over one of her dusky nipples, and her back arches sharply.

  The whole time she is grinding along the edge of my hardon, driving me fucking insane. I’m no longer wondering if this is right or wrong. I’m not thinking of a damn thing except feeling her wrapped around me.

  Anna leans back, and reaches for the button of my jeans. I don’t stop her like I should. I don’t tell her this is a terrible idea when she begins to unzip me, and I couldn’t form coherent speech if my life depended on it when she frees my cock and wraps her palm around.

  She reaches beneath her dress, tugs down her panties. Towering in front of me, she lets them slide down her legs. She doesn’t take them all the way off, and she doesn’t remove her heels.

  Using her palms for balance against my shoulders, Anna climbs back on. Biting her lower lip, her eyes are locked on mine as she sinks down excruciatingly slow over me. She’s hot, wet, and so fucking tight I could cry. When her pelvis crushes against mine, she pauses, rocks back and forth a second. Her head tips back. “Aw mah fuckin’ gawd.”

  I think maybe it’s the first time I’ve heard her real, uncensored voice. It’s not an inflection I’ve ever thought of as sexy before, but it sounds sexy as hell coming from her mouth. I slide a palm up her back, and edge her closer as she starts to move at a slow, even tempo. I taste the skin near her clavicle. She cranes her head to the side, inviting my lips up her neck.

  Anna’s eyes spring open the second my fingertips brush close to the hem of her dress again. She pauses, grabs my hands, and holds them between us.

  Leaning forward, her lush hair falls around us like a veil. The soft brush of her lips against mine quickly evolves into one long, desperate kiss, as she moves faster again. I can feel her flutter around me, and she pants into my mouth. I’m holding back by the skin of my fucking teeth, but I need to feel her come first.

  She makes a gasping, strangled sound against my mouth as her pussy clamps down around me like a vice. My hips thrust up, and I am flying right behind her.

  Anna releases my hands, collapses against me. We’re both still breathing hard, and I’m still inside of her as I wrap my arms around her tight, not wanting to let go just yet.

  But eventually I have to let go, and the spell between us is broken. Reality crashes in, and we both look at each other briefly, then her eyes skitter away. She reaches down to snag up her panties still looped around one ankle.

  Everything happened so fast. Perhaps if I was sober, I could make sense of how we went from discussing baseball and ballet to fucking on my couch. She’s wearing the same perplexed, shocked expression that must be stamped across my face.

  “Anna, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She quickly rights her bra, and buttons up her dress with shaking fingers. Her face and neck are stained dark with a blush. “There’s no reason to be sorry.”

  I don’t experience the crushing guilt I thought I might. All I feel is fucking ashamed. Anna seems so sweet. She was drunk and crying. What the hell was I thinking? Fixing my clothes, I search for the words to make this right, but I’m not sure that they exist.

  “I am so damn sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “Stop apologizing, Jack. In case you missed it, I’m the one who… It was just a bit of fun, right? It’s no big deal.”

  “God, we didn’t even use protection. Are you-”

  “I can’t get pregnant.” She blinks rapidly towards her lap, and pats her hair down. “And I’m definitely safe, so it’s nothing to worry about. No big deal.”

  She keeps saying that phrase, but the air is thick between us. It feels like a very big deal. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She lets out a weak laugh. “I wonder if they’re really going to leave us down here all night?”

  Anna reaches for her cup again, and I don’t stop her this time. “So, are you and your sister from here, from Garden Grove, or did you move here later?”

  My mouth gapes for a second. Are we really just going to resume normal conversation, and pretend like nothing happened? Before either of us are forced to endure too much of this awkwardness, the door at the top of the steps opens. “Are you two decent, or should we come back later.”

  Anna hops up, and smoothes down her dress. She strides across the room on wobbly legs. “That was really funny, Laura,” she calls out up the steps, then tilts her head to the side to address me. “It was nice seeing with you again, Jack.”

  Chapter 7

  Anna

  I woke up the next morning feeling miserable for more reasons than one. I’ve never had a one night stand. The truth is, I didn’t do the sex thing much at all, and I hardly ever drink. Why I made an exception to both of those rules last night is beyond me. I guess because I’m lonely, and Jack is undeniably hot. I don’t know.

  If I was going to wait until the tail end of my twenties to take up casual sex, I wish I’d at least had the presence of mind to pick someone I wouldn’t be forced to see every week. How mortifying is this going to be when he brings his daughter to dance class? If he even brings her now. I drank too much, blubbered about all kinds of nonsense, then proceeded to throw myself at him, coming on way too strong. Who knows what he must think about me now.

  Part of me wishes I’d drank even more so maybe I wouldn’t have to remember how pathetic and foolish I’d acted.

  Princess hops up on the bed. She circles around me, and does another short leap to my chest before curling up into a warm, purring ball. “What do you want, baby? Food, water, or love?”

  I drag myself out of bed to find she has plenty of food and water, so I love on her a bit, then go to take a shower. It’s saturday. I’m hungover, and the studio doesn’t officially open for two more days. I’d say I’m well within my rights to deviate from my normal routine just this once, but for some reason I feel a desperate need to carry on as usual.

  I shower, change, fix my normal breakfast, coffee with one packet of sweetner, one piece of toast, one small piece of fruit. This morning I choose an apple. I don’t always eat the exact same thing each day. I change it up a bit. Some mornings I have an orange instead of an apple. For a while I was on a grapefruit kick, although I never really cared for the sour, bitter flavor much. I guess I just wanted something a little different.

  It’s chilly outside, and I wrap my coat around me tight as I stride in the direction of the studio. I really am going to need to learn how to drive soon. Getting around out here without a car is a huge pain in the ass. I got my temps, and Laura has been trying to teach me, but she drives a stick shift. Perhaps I’ll take actual driving lessons. It would be nice to get my real license before winter hits full force.

  I unlock the door, let myself in, and turn on the lights. I go to change my shoes, pause to tape up the second and third toe of my left foot to cushion a few developing blisters, and slide on my pointe shoes. I’m achy and lethargic, but I don’t just need to dance to maintain normalcy in my life. I get stiff as hell when I don’t, and I can’t just jump right into like in the past. I have an extensive stretching regimen I must do first.

  I’m in
the middle of said routine when my phone rings. I jump up and rush over to paw through my bag for it.

  “Anna, are you okay?” Gregory’s familiar voice washes over me like a balm. God, I miss him. “I just listened to your message. Were you drunk or something?”

  “I was a little,” I admit.

  “That makes two of us. I was out last night, and I didn’t even hear my phone ring.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess. You didn’t sound like you were having much fun. What happened?”

  I’d explained in a voicemail to him the previous evening, but in a blubbering, slurred voice so who knows how much of it he actually understood. Part of me wants to pretend like last night never happened, but it’s eating me up to tell someone, and I know better than to spill to Laura. “Remember the hot cop, dad guy I was telling you about?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “We had sex.”

  “Go Anna! Was it amazing?”

  “I left you a tearful message, so what do you think?”

  “Was he bad at it? Did he have a little dick or something?”

  “No, and no.” I suck in a huge breath. “He’s a grieving widow, and I basically threw myself at him. Actually I threw myself on him, literally and quite pathetically.”

  “The guy has a kid, and a dead wife? Shit, Anna. That’s a lot of baggage.”

  “Yeah, and it was awkward as hell after.”

  “Maybe you should look at the bright side. You got that first time after your accident over and done with. I told you those scars weren’t that bad.”

  I lower myself to the floor, and bend forward over my outstretched legs. “I kept my dress on.”

  “What?”

  “We had sex on his couch. I worked around it.”

  “That’s kind of hot though. The clothes half on, clothes half off thing.”

  “I guess.”

  “It totally is, and you probably made this guy’s day,” Gregory says brightly. “I bet you made his whole month. His whole year.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say miserably.

  “You did. Any man would lucky to be with you.”

  I guess this is why I wanted to talk to Gregory. He’s not pushy like Laura, and he’s always good at making me feel better. “When are you going to come see me?” I ask.

  “When are you going to come see me?” he retorts.

  I widen my legs just shy of full splits. The dull ache in my hip becomes a sharp pain, and I back off a touch. “I could probably come next weekend, if you’re not busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you, and maybe I can return the favor in a few weeks, but what the hell is there to do out there?”

  “Not much,” I admit. “There’s a few little bars, and… that’s about it, I guess.”

  “Are they full of like, cowboys and mountain men?”

  I laugh. “Cowboys? I’m not that far out in the boonies.”

  “A boy can dream can’t he? How far out do you have to go to find cowboys?”

  “I think that’s out west, if they even exist anymore, and you have a boyfriend, asshole.” The door creaks open. When I look up to see who’s just come, in my stomach sinks and my heart flutters in my chest.

  “I’m allowed to look, aren’t I?” Gregory asks.

  My face and neck warm despite the blast of chilly air swept in through the door with him. “I dunno. I need to call you back. Someone just came in.”

  “Who?”

  “Uh...”

  “Is it him?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Don’t hang up. I wanna hear.”

  I hang up. I don’t need an audience for this humiliation.

  “I never know if I should knock, or what,” Jack says with a small laugh. His sweater pushed up to the elbows is the same blue-gray as his eyes. He strides over to stand directly in front of me.

  “You don’t have to knock.”

  “Anna, can we talk?”

  I nod up at him, and fold my legs together. Before I can stand, he settles himself in front of me on the floor. We’re both sitting indian style, or criss cross applesauce I guess you’re supposed to say now.

  “If you don’t want Sarah to come here, I would completely understand,” I say in a hushed, embarrassed voice. “I can refund the fees you paid.”

  “What? No, of course not. She’s so excited to start on Monday.”

  “I just want you to know, I’m not usually like that. I know I was a mess, but-”

  “Anna, you were fine.”

  Shaking my head, I stare down at my hands folded in my lap. “It wasn’t fine. You told me you weren’t interested, and I should’ve listened.”

  “I never said I wasn’t interested, just that I’m not sure if I’m ready.” He tips my chin up so I’m looking at him. It seems like such an intimate gesture for relative strangers, which we are, I remind myself. We’re strangers that did the deed on his couch less than a day ago, and we’re sitting close enough our knees are almost touching, but the fact remains that we don’t really know each other. “Some of the things you said last night got stuck in my head, about wasting time. I’ve been waiting a long time now to wake up and feel… different. Ready. I don’t know, but I can’t wait forever.”

  “It’s nice to know some good came from my little meltdown.”

  Jack laughs quietly. Suddenly he’s the one that can’t maintain eye contact. “But I’m afraid I ruined any chance of… I feel fucking awful about the way things happened. You were drunk, and upset. You were vulnerable, and I should’ve never-.”

  “You? Jack, I’m the one who was crawling all over you, and I wasn’t that drunk. There’s a reason I don’t drink much. I always get all tearful and silly, but I wasn’t wasted. I was perfectly cognizant, just maybe a little less… cautious than usual. I don’t ever do that. I’ve never done that before. I’m not really a casual sex kind of girl, or woman. I’m a little old to be referring to myself as a girl.” I bite my tongue to stop from rambling.

  “You really need to stop with this old shit. If you’re old, what does that make me?”

  “You’re not old, Jack.”

  “No, and I’m not really into the casual thing either, but I need to warn you, the last few times I tried this, it didn’t work out. I wasn’t ready, and maybe I’m still not.”

  I take a few shallow breaths as the implied meaning behind his words settles in. “I don’t have the most stellar track history either.” I give him a brief, half smile. Why am I torturing myself with this? When Jack eventually sees the real me, he’s going to run for the hills. “I’m not sure if it would be appropriate, if I’m going to be teaching Sarah.”

  “I don’t think that matters, does it? I’m not asking you to give her preferential treatment, and I wouldn’t want to flaunt anything in front of her unless we were sure this was going somewhere. I’ve never brought anyone around her before.”

  Maybe this really will go somewhere, and he’ll care about me enough to see past it. “I know you probably don’t believe me after last night, but I really don’t hop right into bed with people, and… Can we just start over? Like a do over?”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “And I like to go slow. Maybe… you might think it’s too slow, but that’s just the way I am.”

  Nodding, Jack grasps my hands in his, and runs his thumbs over my knuckles lightly. “This is kind of nice, just to lay it all out there instead of playing the guessing game. Slow sounds fine to me, Anna.”

  “Yeah,” I say weakly. Is it wrong to hide it from him? It’s not like people strip down and do a full, visual inspection before their first date, right?

  “Maybe we can do something next weekend. Something that doesn’t involve alcohol probably,” he adds with a small grin.

  “I’m actually going out of town next weekend to see a friend, but whenever else.”

  “I can call you. We’ll figure something out.” He scrambles to his feet, and off
ers me a hand up. “I need to go get Sarah, then we’re going to pick out a cat.”

  My lips curve into a smile. “You sound so reluctant. It’s just a cat.”

  “Not all cats are sweet, cuddle monsters like yours. I still have claw marks on my ankle from one Jamie dragged home when we were kids.”

  “I guess I got lucky with Princess, but I’ve had her since she was a baby.”

  He’s still holding my hand, and his eyes slide down to my mouth. I want him to kiss me so bad, but maybe I should let him make the next move. Last night I was all over him. He gives me a slow smile. His grasp on my hand lessens, and I know he’s not going to do it.

  On an impulse, I close the short distance between us and press my mouth to his lightly. I can tell it surprises him a bit, and he freezes.

  Why can’t I control myself around him? If my scars don’t eventually scare him off, things like this will. We haven’t even been on one actual date yet, and after my little spiel about taking things slow, he probably doesn’t know what to think.

  After a very brief hesitation, Jack kisses me back. His hand slides up my arm, and around the back of my neck. His other palm lands on my hip, and he pulls me flush against his chest. I wind my arms around his neck and melt against him.

  I thought maybe some of that spark last night was thanks to the alcohol, but we’re both perfectly clear and coherent this time, and sparks are flying through my body like crazy. Logically I know we should go slow for a number of reasons, but suddenly I can’t recall a single one.

  The door opens. We break apart, and I look over Jack’s shoulder to see Laura grinning at us. She makes a motion with one finger pointed back towards the door behind her, asking silently if she should leave.

  “I’ll call you,” Jack says.

  Trying to temper my breathing, I nod up at him.

  “Hi Jaaaack,” Laura says, holding the door open for him.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Oh, ya know. Same old.” Laura is wearing a manic grin. “See ya around, Jaaaack.”