Another flash of lightning outside drew Sarah out of her reverie. She didn't have to wait long for the inevitable crash of thunder. As she suspected the storm was drawing nearer. It seemed to be growing stronger as well. By the time she got home she would be in the middle of it, and it would very likely be at its peak as well.
It was fitting. The rain and the thunder fitted her mood perfectly. When she arrived home she would unleash the fury of her own storm. If he was even there. Stood up on Valentine's Day. By her husband, no less.
"Sorry darling," his message read, "I'm stuck at work and running late. I'll be with you soon."
It was hours since she'd received that message and there was still no sign of him. How long had it been since the last time they had had a romantic evening together? She couldn't remember, it was that long ago. She didn't ask for much, one night. Just one night a year. But he couldn't even schedule her in for one night.
It was the worst night of the year to be alone in a restaurant. Watching all of the happy couples fed her fury. Seeing the looks in their eyes as they gazed at one another across the tables was enough to make her puke. Sarah wanted to be one of those couples, desperately. As it was she sat in the restaurant alone, humiliated and embarrassed.
The waiter was sweet to her. He'd brought her little nibbles from the tasting menu now and then. He was always cheerful, always had a smile for her. As hard as he was trying to make her feel better, it almost made it worse. She was exposed and all the world could see what a sham her marriage had become.
Lightning lit the room again and the lights went out. Moments later there was a crash in the kitchen, followed by hysterical laughter. The lights came up again as thunder rolled overhead.
Just like that she made her decision. It was over. Like a flash of lightning the conviction struck her. She couldn't live like this anymore, she needed her husband to be... what? Her husband! Damn it, she needed her husband to be with her.
"Can I get the bill, please," she said as the waiter went past.
"Of course," he replied, a sympathetic look on his face. Another damned sympathetic look.
The waiter returned moments later with the bill. As he handed it to her, he said, "I am so sorry your husband is not here. But if you wait just a little longer, maybe you could come dancing with me instead? My shift ends in twenty minutes. What do you say?"
"That's very kind, I'm sure your heart's in the right place, but I really don't need your pity."
"It's not pity. Any man would be thrilled to dance with you, I know I would. Take a chance, have a little fun, god knows you've earned it tonight."
She almost smiled, "Thank you, you're very sweet, but I don't think I'm in the mood anymore."
"Alright, but if you change your mind, let me know. The offer's still open."
Sarah watched him as he walked away. She remembered what it was like to be young and spontaneous. Years ago she would have taken him up on the offer, just dropped her plans on a whim, and gone dancing. Not anymore though.
She watched the storm for a few minutes more, savouring the memory of the waiter's invitation. She realized suddenly that she wasn't old, not even thirty yet, not for a few months more anyway. She hadn't grown old, she had grown boring. Her husband's work had aged them both prematurely. His obsession with appearances had made them both dull.
"Excuse me," she called out.
The waiter heard her from across the dining room, he turned and left the people he was serving, leaving them looking surprised, and more than a little miffed.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked, with a smile that showed genuine happiness. "Have you changed your mind?"
Sarah was completely disarmed by his charming grin. He beamed at her, and his smile was infectious. She couldn't stop herself from smiling as she said, "Well, you can stop calling me ma'am for one thing, my name's Sarah. And yes, I have changed my mind, I'd love to go dancing with you."
"Well, Sarah, I'm pleased to meet you, and I'll be very happy to take you dancing. My name's Tim by the way."
"I think you should serve that couple. I wouldn't want you to get fired."
Tim's smile had continued to grow, and now it looked like his face might crack open. He looked back at the couple he had left so abruptly. "Oh, they look pissed don't they? Excuse me."
He returned moments later with a small glass of wine. "My treat, it's a sweet little dessert wine. I hope you like it."
Later, he returned. Sarah almost didn't recognise him – he had changed his clothes. A nice shirt, much more colourful, more stylish, than her husband would wear, and the matching pants were tighter than her husband would wear as well. He had a cute arse.
Pinchable
, she thought, with an internal giggle. Maybe she was a little tipsy after the dessert wine. Not to mention the bottle of champagne she had had to drink all on her own.
"Let's go," he said, offering his hand to her.
She accepted his hand, and his chivalrous assistance in getting out of her chair. She noticed he kept hold of her hand as they walked out of the restaurant. She liked the feeling, it was nice to feel a little affection again.
How long has it been since Robert just held my hand?
she wondered.
The rain was coming down in cats and dogs outside and they huddled under the restaurant's awning. When Tim spotted a taxi he waved frantically, hoping to be seen through the rain and dark. His waving was to no avail. Almost too late he rushed out from what little shelter they had from the storm and hailed the taxi to a stop.
He opened the rear door and called to Sarah. When she realised that Tim was going to stand in the rain and hold the door for her, she ran to the taxi and entered as quickly as she could. Tim wasn't far behind.
"You're soaked," she said, bursting into laughter, "You look like a drowned rat."
"I must look a sight!" he said, laughing along with her.
"No one's held a door open for me for a long time," she said. "Especially not in the pouring rain."
"I didn't want your lovely dress to get ruined," he said. "You look beautiful you know."
He was sweet, he was attentive. Under different circumstances Sarah could fall for Tim, if he wasn't so much younger than her, that is. As it was, she was enjoying the attention. Somehow the storm had taken on a different tone in just the few minutes she had spent with him. It closed them into their own little world, it shut out everyone else, and kept her safe from her unhappy reality.
The taxi dropped them at a notorious night club on Oxford Street. When Sarah realised where Tim was taking her she tried to back out. "Oh, no," she said, "I can't go here."
"Why not, it's just a club?"
"I've heard about this place!"
"See, it's famous!" he answered, grinning. "We're going to have fun. It's your night off, a night to kick back, and let your hair down. No limits, just for one night."
His enthusiasm was infectious. "Why not?" she said. "A little spontaneity never hurt anyone!"
They went to the down stairs dance bar. Apparently, even Oxford Street celebrates Valentine's Day – the lights that were spinning and flashing were shaped like hearts. The dance floor was crowded with people. Tim took Sarah by the hand and led her out into the sea of bodies.
Sarah was a little self conscious dancing with Tim. It had been a long time since she had danced, and Tim was good, very good. He had a great sense of rhythm and his whole body moved to the beat. He was graceful and powerful at the same time.
As if he could sense her unease, Tim took her hands in his. He used her hands to guide her movements, to draw her forward first with one hand and then the other. With her hands he lifted her shoulders in time to the music. When he put a hand on her hip she blushed all the way from her breasts to her cheeks, but her chagrin was hidden in the pink glow of the lighting. He used the hand to guide the movement of her hips.
It wasn't long before everything combined and Sarah finally relaxed, really relaxed and let the music take her. Tim sensed the changes taking place in Sarah and he guided her through some turns, lifting one arm above her head and turning her with the hand on her hip. She was enjoying dancing again, enjoying losing herself in the music and the touch of the man she danced with.
The tempo of the music changed through the night. Sometimes slow, and sometimes fast, but dancing with Tim it was always sensuous. They were in contact through every song. The first time when he brought her into his arms after a turn she was uncomfortable, but she quickly relaxed in his embrace, and even came to enjoy his touch.
Once Sarah was comfortable dancing, Tim removed his sodden shirt and hooked it in his pants. Sarah was a little shocked at first, but when she noticed that he wasn't the only man dancing without a shirt she relaxed. She found her eyes drawn to the play of muscles in his chest and stomach. She couldn't help but wonder what those muscles would feel like as they tensed and then relaxed.
She put her hand on Tim's bicep. As he danced it alternated between being hard and soft, depending on how he was moving. It was sexy feeling the muscles move under his skin. She let her hand wander up to his shoulder and down over his chest and stomach. His body was hard, strong, she could feel the muscles under his skin flex as he moved. She put her other hand on his hip, and before long was running both of her hands over his body.
