Seems Like Old Times Page 16
They discussed Tony's ranch and how much Vic taught him about making the ranch profitable, and he eventually got her to talk about her personal life in New York, about her friends and how she liked the big city.
They talked about politics, movies, and even the San Francisco Giants chances for winning a World Series again (nil, they decided). Before they realized it, it was past eight o'clock. Time to go to the dance.
The feelings that came over Lee as they rode along the familiar streets to the high school were so confusing and conflicting she could scarcely breathe. The last time she was at a dance at the gym with Tony had been prom night. Yester-year seemed suddenly so close, as if all the time in between had vanished into nothing. She struggled to convince herself that it was already a new century, that she was rolling rapidly towards forty, and that the man beside her wasn't her boyfriend anymore, but practically a stranger.
He turned into the parking lot and found an open spot. Neither moved to get out of the vehicle, but instead sat, feeling the moment. In the soft light of the parking lot, she was sure that the wistful expression on Tony's face mirrored her own.
"This car is all wrong, Tony." Her voice was soft, wistful. "We should be in your big Bonneville."
He glanced at her, eyes dark and deep, then his eyebrows rose and a saucy grin stole over his face. "We can pretend. I've got some fond memories because of that car."
Yes, many memories. She laughed. "Hmm, maybe we'd better go inside."
They got out of the car and he took her hand as they walked toward the gym. Her stomach grew increasingly tense as they neared it. Every step she took made the memory of the last time they were here that much stronger. That was the night she realized how much she loved him. Always before he'd been her "boy friend" with all the light hearted romantic notions that went along with a teenage girl's use of that term. But as they danced the prom away, she saw that the scraggly boy she'd known for three years had grown into a handsome young man. Her friend, her partner, her everything. Love--it seemed too small a word for the feelings that swept over her that night. She needed a word at least fifteen syllables long.
"Ready?" he asked, his hand on the door handle.
"Too late to back out now, Santos."
He laughed and pulled open the door.
The gym was decorated in metallic blue and silver, with big hole "45" records dangling from the ceiling, and a cardboard cutout of a giant jukebox decorating one wall. A large crowd had already gathered, a lot of people who appeared to be in their forties or fifties, and a few who were scarcely out of their teens. Lee was relieved to see that most people were dressed to the nines.
The loud strains of "Do the Locomotion" nearly blasted them back into the parking lot.
A ticket seller sat just inside the door. Tony reached into his back pocket for his wallet as Lee opened her purse. "No," he said to her, taking a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the ticket seller.
She handed another twenty to the curious ticket seller. "It's for a good cause."
As "The Monster Mash" played, Tony looked for a table. "We'll sit this one out. God, I wonder if I know how to dance to any of these old songs? Where are Gino and Miriam when we need them?"
Her eyes caught Tony’s and they grinned.
They no sooner sat, though, when the DJ put "Runaround Sue" on the record player. Tony jumped to his feet. "That's more like it," he said. "Come on."
He held out his hand.
"Oh, Lord!" She was suddenly startlingly aware of what she'd set herself up for. She hadn't done "fast" dancing since college. Tony's feet tapped to the music. She could see he was aching to dance. It made sense. He was the best dancer she'd ever known.
She held her breath, feeling clumsy before she even stood, and followed him to the center of the floor. Walking across the dance floor helped. The floorboards reverberated with the heavy, steady beat, so that by the time Tony faced her and took her hands, she was at least ready to give it a try,
It took her most of the song, however, to get over her awkwardness and to get her body to remember the way she used to dance years ago. The pattern and the steps must have been engraved somewhere in her psyche, though, because once she let herself really listen to the music and watch Tony, she was able to follow his lead.
Tony was as limber as ever. He moved easily, as if his whole body was attuned to the beat. She loved watching the rhythm in motion of his body. She always had.
The disc jockey was merciless. Immediately, he put on "Please Mr. Postman", a Motown favorite.
"Remember the calypso, Lisa? Let's try it!"
As soon as the song ended, Tony took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, but returned to Lee's side in time to twist and calypso their way through some rock classics--the Isley Brothers' "Twist and Shout," Buddy Holly's "That'll Be the Day," and Bobby Darin's "Dream Lover." Lee was exhausted, but laughed and somehow managed to keep up with him. Being with him was like trying to follow a comet. Neither of them knew the steps to "The Stroll," and tried to follow some of the older couples on the floor. As they nearly tumbled over with laughter as their feet kept getting tangled up, Tony suggested a breather.
They no sooner finished their iced punch when they heard the the slow, dreamy strains of "You Send Me."
Tony glanced at her, and the look in his eyes rocked her. There was no need for him to ask. All night she'd wondered what it would be like when the first slow song played, how it would feel to be in his arms again. All night he'd wondered if it would be as good as the first time they had slow-danced, how it would feel to hold her close to him once again.
She put down her glass and stood. He took her hand, lightly at first, then his fingers tightened and he led her onto the dance floor. He turned and held out his arms.
She walked slowly into them, then placed one hand in his, her other on his shoulder. His shoulder was thicker, more muscular than she remembered.
He touched her waist, then eased her nearer. She swayed closer. His arms tightened until his cheek rested against her temple. The feel of his head, the way his body curved around hers in the dance position, being in his arms, was wonderfully familiar to her.
Taut and sensitive, her body fairly crackled with awareness of him.
He took one tentative step, and she followed, then another and another until in some magical way, as they moved to the music, they melted into one. She shut her eyes, swaying to the seductive strains of the music. She felt the heat of his body from their fast dancing, and felt the dampness of perspiration on his skin. The scent of his soap and after shave surrounded her, and she remembered so many times being with him like this. It was like coming home again, but this home wasn’t the cold, forbidding place where Judith lived, this one was welcoming and filled with love.
He tucked the hand he held to his chest, and she could feel his heart beat. She relaxed against him, her eyes shut to everything but him.
His hand lowered to her hip, pressing closer to her and the fast, erratic beat of his heart pounded through her as if it were her own. "You smell good," he said, his voice husky and low.
"You, too," she murmured.
He pulled his head back, looked at her. His eyes spoke reckless volumes, while his words tried to be light and joking. "You're crazy."
"Yes," she whispered. But it was his eyes she answered. Her gaze drifted over his face, different yet so familiar, so...with a jolt she realized she loved the shape of his nose. It was smooth and shiny, thin, with arched nostrils. She never before thought she could love the way a nose looked, but suddenly, she did. "I am crazy," she agreed as her arms tightened around him.
For the briefest moment a look more of agony than pleasure flitted over him. Then he nodded as if to say, "Me, too." Crazy to be here, like this, wanting her, loving her, all over again.
She pressed her face against his cheek, lost in a medley of emotions. When the music stopped, it hurt to pull away.
"Where Did Our Love Go?" began
and the question in the title resounded through her. It was like a knife wound. Stricken, she turned and walked back to their table, trying not to listen to the words.
He followed her and stood while she sat, still not able to look at him. "Lisa," he said. "Let's go outside."
Chapter 15
They stood on the landing at the top of the stairs that led down to the parking lot. She ran her hand over her hair, trying to push loose tendrils back into her chignon. "It was quite warm in there."
"The breeze feels good."
"Excuse me." A middle-aged couple stood before them. "Aren’t you Lee Reynolds?" the man asked.
"My name's Lisa," she said.
The man looked skeptical. "But "
"Give her a break," Tony said, taking Lee's arm and leading her away from the two. "Don't you know all blondes look alike?"
Embarrassed, the couple backed away, muttering an apology.
Lee did all she could not to laugh aloud.
"I'm sorry," Tony said. "I couldn't help myself."
"It's all right. You did just fine."
He smiled at her. "Are you enjoying this, Lisa?"
"I can't begin to tell you " She began enthusiastically, then stopped. "Are you?"
"It...it's good. It's..."
"Yes?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Is it too cold for you out here? Evenings in Miwok--cold wind and fog, just like always."
She folded her arms. "It's scarcely chilly at all."
He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her against his side. Someone swung the door to the gym open all the way so that it caught and didn't close again--apparently others were also feeling the heat inside.
She glanced back at the door, then at the man beside her, and let herself lean against him, enjoying his nearness.
"It's strange to be here again with you, Tony. It's as if seventeen years of my life didn't really happen, and I'm here, and this is what's real..."
"Don't, Lisa!"
Startled, she hid her hurt. "It's not that I want to have such thoughts. I can't help it. I spent so many years not letting myself think of those days. And then I came back."
He touched her jaw, his thumb under her chin as he lifted her face toward his own. Her pulse raced at his touch. The distant sound of "Since I Fell For You" reached them.
His arms circled her, and he slowly drew her closer to him. She didn't draw back as their eyes met.
"Dance with me?" he whispered.
She nodded.
His fingers started at her shoulders then traveled the length of her back, to her waist, her hips, molding her to him as they danced.
She could feel the raw desire that had teased them all evening, making her hot, cold, and wound tighter than a top, suddenly let loose and gnaw at her insides.
Still holding her close as he swayed to the music, he said, "Come home with me, Lisa."
She stopped and drew back.
"Not for old times." His gaze was penetrating. "For now."
"But..." She could think of a thousand reasons not to go, and only one reason that she should. She wanted him, wanted to be with him, wanted to love him. And with this feeling so strong, what did they tell her about all the reasons that kept her away? Reasons like Bruce, like the life she now lived? But then, didn’t she know right from the beginning where this night would lead? And wasn’t that why she agreed to come here with him? Why she wanted to come here with him?
"Our lives have gone their separate ways," he said. "And they're both filled with other people, other obligations. But for some reason, hard as it is to believe, you’re here, and we have this one night to live a lifetime on. Come with me."
Still, she hesitated.
"We're a man and a woman, not kids anymore. I want to make love to you, and I want to do it right. No kisses on a gym floor or a school yard, no park benches or car seats. My house, my bed. Is that so wrong?"
"No, but..."
"But?"
She never could win with him. Especially when she didn’t want to. He waited.
"All right," she whispered.
Silence, then surprise, relief, anticipation, and yes, even anxiety, all flitted over Tony’s face. He took her hand and led her to the parking lot. His eyes were dark, sultry, but with the same mischievous twinkle that always made her want to go along with him. Just like the night of the prom.
When the dance had ended those seventeen years ago, they had started out for Big Bob's restaurant with friends. But, like now, she wanted to be alone with him. He parked in a secluded area and kissed her.
Kisses weren't enough that night. She wanted him. She wanted to be sure he'd never forget her.
I love you, Lisa...I always have. That's what he'd said when the fumbling and awkwardness were over. But it wasn't clumsy to her back then. It was nothing short of miraculous that he could become a part of her, physically join with her, like that. That he, and only he, could make her feel whole.
A wistfulness, poignant and bittersweet, touched her heart at the memory of that evening. Youthful and precocious, their feelings were so full they could have burst from the sheer pleasure of being together. They never would have believed that the moment loomed so close when she would have to let him go.
On this night, Tony drove the Jeep through the foggy streets of Miwok, and in no time turned down the country lane to his house. The front porch was lit, and Lee saw that he left a lamp on in the living room. It cast a warm, yellow glow in the window.
They walked in silence from the car to the front door, then into the house, into the now familiar hallway with its oak-stained chair rails and floral wallpaper.
He showed her to the living room, then stopped. "Well..." He cleared his throat. "Here we are."
On leaden legs she walked into the room, then quickly went to the sofa and sat, her hands folded on her lap. "It's nice and warm in here." How obvious! she groaned inwardly.
"You're comfortable, then?" He asked. "I shouldn’t light the fireplace."
"No need. I’m fine. Thanks." She was about as comfortable as she'd be sitting on a powder keg.
He took off his jacket, and laid it on a chair, then patted his hands together, as if he, too, wasn’t quite sure what else to do with them. "Thirsty?" His voice sounded a little choked. He cleared his throat. "Would you like cognac, perhaps? Or coffee? A beer?"
"No, I On second thought, cognac sounds good." A quick cognac, then home. This was a colossal mistake.
"Cognac, great. Be right back." He hurried off toward the kitchen, and before long, returned with two brandy snifters.
She took a sip and felt it warm her down to her toes.
He hunkered down in front of his stereo and flipped through some CDs and tapes a moment, then stopped and reached for some old record albums. "I just remembered an old song I've got here someplace," he murmured. "Perfect for tonight. Ah!"
He stood and put the album on the turntable. "It'll be scratchy, but you'll get the message.
She waited through a slow, melancholy big band introduction she didn't recognize, then a silky smooth Bing Crosby type voice began to wistfully croon, “Seems like old times…,”
Tears sprang to her eyes. The song captured her joy, but her madness, too, for as much as it seemed like old times, it wasn't. And no amount of regrets could ever undo the past.
Lee glanced at Tony, then quickly away as the refrain ended, Seems like old times here with you.
He noticed. "What is it?" he asked, easing himself beside her on the sofa. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd find it sad."
She blinked away the tears. "This isn't like me. I'm making such a fool of myself."
With his thumb, he brushed away a tear that fell to her cheek. "The only time you're a fool is when you criticize yourself for opening your heart."
She raised the glass in her hand and gave a wry chuckle. "Maybe it's just the cognac."
He took it from her and put it on the table. "Two sips?"
"I'm easy," she sai
d with a watery chuckle.
"No." He tilted her chin upward. "That's the last thing you are." He leaned forward. She looked into his face, then lifted hers, her hands to his chest as his head lowered. His lips met hers, softly, tentatively.
Finally.
A starburst of feelings erupted in her so powerfully, she pulled back, afraid. Their eyes met. My Tony. The way she used to think of him in high school came back to her. He's always been my Tony.
His hands gripped her upper arms as if to steady himself; to steady her.
She lightly ran her fingers over his face, the straight brows, strong cheekbones, finely shaped mouth. He turned his face into her hand, his eyelids fluttering shut as he placed a kiss against her palm.
Her body trembled and she felt a similar quiver in Tony's. His hands slid along her back. Hers rested on his shoulders for a moment, then touched his neck, the back of his head. She moved closer and their lips met a second time.
He lightly kissed each lip, the top, the bottom. She cocked her head slightly, and her lips parted as his met hers.
Finally.
The wonder of times past, old recollections, familiar tastes, stirring them along with something new. Something mature, adult, and blatantly sexual. The hunger and longing of half a lifetime captured them, and their kiss exploded into a mouth open, tongue touching, head twisting, kind of kiss. The fervor built, carrying them on a swell of feelings. Lust, yes, but more, much more.
He pressed close to her, she pulled him closer. He captured her against the back of the sofa. She gathered him to her, clutching the material on the back of his shirt in tight fists.
He touched her hair, back, shoulders, face.
She touched his ears, neck, arms. As much as she had tried to deny the feelings he aroused in her, her heart was involved, much more than she’d allowed herself to imagine. But deep down she knew; she’d always known.
"I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this," he whispered.
"So have I," she said.
He stood, pulling her to her feet with him, then walked to the stairs. "You’re sure?"
"Yes." She smiled, and her smile was smothered by a hard, fiery kiss he pressed on her mouth.