Author's Note: This story was inspired by, and written for, a friend online. She enjoys dancing, playing outside, and the rain. In my experience, men are more hesitant to spend time in the rain playing, so I imagined a husband joining his wife, with a little convincing, for all these activities and changing his perspective on frolicking in the rain. A few lines borrow from the lyrics of Clint Black's song "Like the Rain."
Both characters participating in the story are over 18 years of age.
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He stood just inside the screen door, watching her for ten minutes before she noticed him. In that time, she stretched, pirouetted, and leapt back and forth across the porch. Some of the time, he could recognize when she landed in a plié or stretched over the steps in an arabesque, but he didn't know how to describe many of the moves she made. That was characteristic of her: she often left him without words.
Finally, she stepped off the porch and raised her face to the sky, and her hair darkening made him aware of the sounds talking through the trees and on the window pane. Looking at the droplets cascading down her shoulders, he couldn't believe he'd never liked the rain. She turned to step back up on the porch and froze as she saw him through the screen.
"Oh! You're back?" She squinted, trying to peer through the mesh into the darkness behind him.
"Your parents still have the kids. I took an Uber back. We couldn't go mini-golfing because of the rain, so they decided to go to the Mall instead. Something about shopping and then going out for ice cream and pretzels. They'll probably be several hours." The door squeaked and then banged behind him as he stepped outside.
"How long have you been here?"
He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes, maybe? Fifteen? I didn't realize it was so long. You're hypnotizing. I like watching you dance. I especially like seeing you wet."
She smirked. "Oh, do you now? Do you think I'm wet now?"
His eyes widened momentarily, and then flitted up and down her figure. He opened his mouth, then paused. She lamented he didn't talk to her enough, but maybe it was her fault. After two decades, she could still leave him speechless. Too many thoughts struggled in his head. Finally, he managed to open his mouth and make intelligible sound.
"How long have you been out here? And why naked? How did you know how long we'd be gone?"
"You don't like to see me naked?"
"You know I do."
"Come dance with me?" She raised her hand to him but didn't move off the second-last step onto the porch.
He stepped to the edge of the porch, just under cover from the rain, and took her hand. "Dance with you? In the rain?"
"Dance with me. In the rain."
"My clothes will get wet."
She looked at him for a long moment, then took her hand out of his and reached up to the top button below his collar. Looking him in the eyes as she unfastened his shirt, she said softly, "now you know why I'm naked."
A lump formed in his stomach. He watched her hands until his shirt fell apart and she pulled it from his shoulders to toss it on the closest chair. It was strange watching his own chest heaving, and he glanced to the sides of the yard to see if any of the neighbors were in sight. His attention was refocused when she took his hands and placed them on his own belt.
"No one else is outside. People don't like the rain. So, will you dance with me?" She stepped back and pirouetted, stopping to gaze at him with chin lowered and eyebrows raised, waiting for him. As self-conscious as he was, he couldn't deny her.
Buckle. Button. Zipper. He realized he should have removed his shoes first. He stepped back to sit on the chair and pulled off shoes, socks, and pants. He stood in his boxers and stepped back to the edge of the porch. They stared at each other.
"You're overdressed."
"I don't mind them getting wet."
"I'll make it worth your while."
He raised his eyebrows. His hands were on his waistband, but he wavered. "I don't know."
She stepped to him and covered his hands with hers.
"You would put your dry clothes on over your wet ones?"
"No, we should have enough time. I'll run inside and dry off before getting dressed. I wouldn't put dry clothes on wet skin. Or wet clothes."
Her fingers slipped under his waistband, and her eyes held his as the fabric slipped from his fingers. First, he felt the soft cloth around his ankles, and then his view of her eyes was replaced with the top of her head and he gasped at the warmth on his center. He shuddered as he felt her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, and then her tongue tracing him. Furrowing his brow, he glanced desperately to the sides of the property.
"There. Now your skin is wet. You'll need a towel before you can get dressed. Come dance with me?"
He groaned. Her hand tugged at his, and he stepped out of his boxers and down from the porch.
