Every year on the shore of Lake Michigan, where the Milwaukee and the Kinnikinnic Rivers meet, there is a music festival called Summerfest, a.k.a., The Big Gig. Numerous stages going at one time. Everything from blues to hard rock. And always a crowd.
They went one hot sultry night, years ago. A group of college friends. Mostly to hear Maynard Ferguson at the jazz stage. Sitting for hours and listening to various groups and musicians. Just feeling mellow and cool and all those good sensations you find with the right company and the right atmosphere. And somehow that hot muggy air just added to the mood. Everything moving at a slightly slowed speed.
He was the loner in the group. The 5th wheel. The unmatched one. But his company was good, and he never hit on the attached ladies, so he was always welcome.
It being his turn, he went to get some beer and wine coolers for the group. The area in front of the beer and wine booth was a milling throng of people. The heat and the music created great thirst that night. People were all standing close, the crowd moving slowly forward. No frayed tempers, everyone just nodding to the mellow bass line of the jazz, tempered by the distant pounding from the rock stage on one end of the festival grounds, and the twang of blue grass on the other end.
She stood slightly behind him, and to his right. Just in the corner of his vision. A glimpse of long blonde hair, a slender form in t-shirt and jeans. A flash of white teeth when she laughed, talking to her friends. A vague impression of blue eyes.
His hands were hanging down at his sides. Accidental brushing of bodies was constant, and hardly noticed.
He realized his fingers were resting against the front of her very tight jeans. He moved them fractionally away...being polite. She moved, or the crowd moved her, back into contact. He moved his fingers away again. And again, the front of her tight jeans brushed against his hand.
So very slowly, his fingers lightly traced lines across the front of her jeans. No more than a brush…a whisper of contact. No words were spoken. No eye contact made. Just two people in a dense crowd…dim light…heat…and music.
