Turning down the hall, the only thought possible in his head: "A red dress, a whispered hello, a phantom kiss", he must find her. He only caught a glimpse and yet that glimpse nearly stopped his heart. He had to reach her. Out the door and into the lot he moaned as he stumbled onto a huge embolus of human beings.
Sharp eyes sliced through the crowd to see her prey: a tall man with impeccable fashion sense and a superb set of legs. The attack was planned, only brief moments of vision would be available. A set of eyes, a word or two, and he would follow her to the darkest locale. Behind him, from about twenty feet, her ankles shivered with anticipation; could she hold up with this one?
He could feel it, it wasn't visible, but she was here. There was a whiff in the air, the smell a trail of breadcrumbs telling him the way to ecstasy. Farther and farther he drifted into pleasure until he twirled around and caught the backside of her red dress, her back exposed and in motion. The crowd swelled and absorbed her frame. He pressed on.
Moving deeper and deeper, his track followed the trail of scent, the trail of expectation. He moved like a deliberate beast, tracking his prey and keeping his mind attuned to the task at hand; reaching the woman. The words she gave to him jarred a memory, of a friend, of someone he might know? This could not be right, who could this be, and how could this woman standing before him believe that now is the right time.
The revelry of the crowd served as an echo chamber inside his head. He could not hear the clatter of her womanly shoes on the brick, his ears refused to register the whining moan of conversation that changed its symphony as he pitched his head to give chase. The only sounds he heard were those of his internal dialogue, the sound of blown kisses and the huff and puff of his breath; maybe it was a taunt, or even better, it could be a premonition?
His movement kept up with her: impressive. More so was his grace and tact; he was able to sustain chase with no displaced people, and each onlooker took the chase for revelry. Soon the crowd thinned out; the plaza emptied into a park. There she would wait, against a tree, leading him inside away from everyone. The night would be their shield and their modesty. The trees would be a captive audience to the show of two.
At the edge of the crowd, she began the rush to the trees. Her distance ahead of her quarry was just enough to afford her enough of an advantage to reach the grove first. Her placement was concealed among the many trees; her body hidden by large tree trunks. A peek could afford her the opportunity to see his searching eyes; it also would give him the smallest piece of skin to locate her by. Each time she spied, she saw his eyes in a direction far from hers. She wore a broad smile until she heard him begin to speak, after the word he spoke, she froze. In many emotions she froze: surprise, fear, embarrassment, desire, longing, and maybe insanity.
"Susan? Is it you?" A turn to the left revealed a single blue eye and a pale face between dark night and grey bark. A single piercing stare issued to his center, tracking him. He approached cautiously, he moved gently into each step; his rhythm became prolonged into a deep forward thrust.
"Why have you led me out here, why wouldn't you let me speak to you or recognize your face back in the club?" She disappeared behind the trunk and began a slow orbit between it and her object. "What makes you act so strangely? I cannot say that I mind this affection; in fact I have been reveling in it. This is just strange; I never thought you might act on any feelings between us."
