Reunions

Chapter 1: The Stardust Hotel

The Stardust Hotel was a large venue hosting several ballrooms filled with wedding parties, business meetings, and high school reunions. It was new, opulent, adorned with chandlers, private seating areas with tables, overstuffed chairs, intimate lighting, and pianos played by black-tie performers. The waterfall at the main entrance sent a soothing white noise throughout the common areas.

She sat outside the ballroom hosting her thirtieth high school reunion, nursing her drink. A finger fiddled with her hoop earring as she glanced at her ballroom door. Another classmate entered, or was it a spouse? In either case, she was unlikely to be recognized. She stirred her drink but found the glass contained only ice.

A young man seated a few tables away held his glass in a salute, but she shook her head and raised her hands palm-up. She could see him laugh, and he walked to her table.

"I'm out, too," he said. "Can I get you another? What are you drinking?"

"Gin and tonic," she said. "But that's not necessary."

"Let me guess," he said, then squinted. "High school reunion?"

She nodded and laughed. "Good guess."

"Then we both need another drink," he said. "I'll be right back."

He returned with two gin and tonics a few minutes later.

"May I," he said, motioning toward a seat next to her.

She smiled and nodded. "Of course. Thank you for the drink."

He settled into his seat and raised his glass to her. "To comrades in a common cause."

She touched his glass to his and sipped. "I take it you're here for a high school reunion, too?"

"James," he said. "This is my ten-year reunion. But I'll be damned if I recognize a single person here."

"Lydia," she said, and she extended her hand. After a quick shake, the two sipped again.

"I'm going out on a limb here, but is it your twentieth reunion?" He motioned with his hands, indicating it was a complete guess.

Lydia snorted. "Try thirty. I walked around there for an hour, and I recognized nobody, and nobody seemed to recognize me. I feel like I'm at the wrong reunion."

"Me, too!" He said.

She eyed him. "James, right?"

"That's right."

"Why not Jim or Jimmy?"

He threw his head back. "That's a short story. Did you have a mom that would use your full name when you were in trouble?"

Lydia smiled.

"Mom used my full name a lot when I was young. After a while, I only responded to James." He said.

"So," she said with a grin, "are you still bad?"

"No, no, no," he said. "My Mom should have gotten parent of the decade. She straightened me out, but good. But, even after all these years, I still only respond to James."

She nodded.

"That's my story. What's yours, Lydia? Why come to a reunion when there was a chance you'd end up alone?"

"What's your reasoning?" She said.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I see what you did there." He took a breath. "I'll go first, but you owe me the same, OK?"

She nodded her assent.

"I wasn't a great student," he said. "But I've changed over these last ten years. I wanted to see if some of the people I might recognize changed, too. But truth be told, I probably don't have much in common with them." Then he nodded to her, and it was her turn.

She pursed her lips. "I don't know why I came. I really don't. I had little in common with them thirty years ago and probably less now. I'm not sure what I expected."

He smiled, sipped his drink, then put it aside. "Let's see how much we have in common."

"I'm not sure—"

"We're here having a nice conversation," he said. "Let's talk books."

He leaned forward, looking pleasantly surprised. "Books?"

"Sure," he said. "Why not?"

"OK," she said. "You start."

"You have trust issues," he said with a smile. "OK. I'll go first." He took a deep breath. "I was not a great reader in high school, nor did they ask it of us. When I went to college, I must have grown up because suddenly, I felt cheated that I hadn't read any of the classics. I'm talking Western canon, not Homer. So I began reading them one at a time. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, Count of Monte Cristo, etc. They're wonderful!"

"Why did you like Pride and Prejudice?" She asked.

He shook his finger at her. "At some point, it has to be your turn," he said. After another sip of his drink, he continued. "Full confession here. I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies first. Then I read the original."

"Oh my god," she said, laughing. "A zombie book?"

"Yup!" He said. "Here's the thing. If you remember the original, there were all sorts of things unexplained in the book. Why was there a regiment of soldiers near the Bennet house in the first place? The answer is zombies. They were fighting zombies. The answer to every open question was zombies. It was brilliant."

"But what about the original book? What was your favorite part?" She asked.

"I've got two answers for you," he said. "The first is easy: the meeting of Lady Catherine and Elizabeth Bennett near the end of the book. It was a battle of wits, and Liz wiped the floor with Catherine. So good."

"And the other?"

James suppressed a grin. "You are going to owe me some good answers. I can't take credit for the other one. I saw a posting somewhere, and I can't do it justice here, but the point was Liz didn't suddenly change her mind about Mr. Darcy. She called him on being a privileged ass, and he began doing the right thing, reining in his friend, and repairing the damage he did, all without seeking credit or reaping any kudos for himself. He showed himself to be a stand-up guy. Only then did Liz reconsider."

"I like that," Lydia said. "I never thought of it that way."

James nodded, then said. "I'm James Grant. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Lydia Chambers," she replied, and they shook hands again.

"How's your drink?"

"No refill yet," she replied, swirling her glass.

"Tell me when," he said. "Now, your turn. What do we have in common?"

"I can't just do books?" She said, cringing.

"You had your chance," he said. "New topic."

"Travel," she said. "I love London. I love the tube, and the food, and the sites, and the museums. I love the gardens and the taxis. I love everything but the prices."

"I could spend a week in the British Museum looking at all the stolen artifacts," he said.

"I know, right?" She replied. "And the National Portrait Gallery."

He said, "And the Imperial War Museum, National Gallery, and Tate Modern."

"Hey!" She said. "Who's telling this story?"

He put his hands up in front of himself in mock surrender. "Sorry, please go on."

"So," she said, "we have travel and London in common."

"What else do we have in common?" He said.

"Isn't it your turn?" She said.

He shook his head and grinned. "No, you made me go like three times with the books. And since you didn't push back, I'm assuming you're big into books, too. We'll circle back to that one. Pick another."

"Oh, man," she said. "Let me think." She puzzled for a moment. "We like dancing. Not at a rave or a rock concert, but in a ballroom with a nice band and a mix of slow and fast music."

"Like that?" He said, angling his head toward a ballroom.

"Well, yes, actually," she said.

"So what's stopping us," he replied.

"What?"

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, drawing close to her. "I don't want to go to my reunion alone, and you don't want to go to your reunion alone. So let's go to yours together. I would like to be your date for the evening, Ms. Chambers. We can dance and drink and maybe cause a stir with those who claim not to know you."

She shook her head. "No, James, you're—"

"What?" He said. "Not handsome enough to be your date?"

"Oh, god no," she said quickly, then blanched.

"So," he said. "Why shouldn't we go dance and have a good time? I'm your date. If anybody asks, say we met not long ago, haven't been going out that long, but have lots in common like books and travel."

She thought for a moment, then said, "You're on. Thank you, Mr. Grant. I would be pleased to go to the reunion with you!"

Chapter 2: Drinks and Dancing

James offered his arm, and Lydia took it as they entered the ballroom. The lights were low, and the band played a song ideal for slow dancing.

"Shall we?" He said.

They walked into the crowd on the dance floor, and James wrapped his arm around her waist. Their hands met, and they began dancing. After a few measures, Lydia smiled.

"You dance very well," she said.

"Took a class in college," replied James as he pivoted.

"And why would you do that?"

"My roommate told me it was a good way to meet women," he said, shrugging.

"And did you?" She said, swaying to the music.

"I made some friends," he admitted, "but because there were so few men in the mix, we spent every minute of every class on the dance floor with partners. So, met a few girls, but mostly learned to dance."

James raised his hand and spun her.

"Indeed you did!" She said. "What other kinds of surprises might you have?"

The song reached its ending, and he dipped her gently. "If I told you," he said, "it wouldn't be a surprise."

He pulled her upright as another slow song began. They resumed their dance, and James glanced down.

"You know," he said, "Sister Mary Alice isn't here with her ruler ensuring a good eight inches of daylight stays between us."

Lydia snickered and moved closer. "Subtle," she said.

"Much better," he replied.

"It's nice that you're tall," she said. "I was always the gangly one too tall for the boys and coming up short looking for dance partners."

"I see what you did there," he said. "Coming up short." He snickered and continued. "I'm a little taller than you, but not much. Anyway, I like looking into your eyes."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Careful, sir, or this will become a real date!"

"And why shouldn't it?" He replied. "I've found a beautiful, intelligent, funny, clever woman dressed to the nines. I want this to be a first date. Don't you?"

She rested her head on his shoulder and chest and said, "It's been a long time. I tried dating a few years ago, but the men were all shitheads." She looked up. "No offense."

"None taken," he said. "It baffles me. It takes very little effort to be a decent human being, but so many don't make it."

She stopped and looked into his eyes, nodding. "Exactly! I'm not asking for much; I'm just looking for some common decency!"

They began dancing again, and they were smoother together with every passing beat. When the song ended, the band took its break, and the two of them walked to the bar.

"Gin and tonic?" He said.

She nodded, and he ordered two. As the drinks were being prepared, a woman approached.

"Lydia?"

Lydia turned and said, "Diane Huber? I almost didn't recognize you. How have you been?"

"I'm fine. I'm here with my husband Dave. He's over there," and she gestured. "We've got two kids going to college this year, so things are a little frantic. How about you? I love the dress. And, wow, it looks great on you!"

James turned with the two gin and tonics, handing one to Lydia.

"Oh," said Lydia, "this is my date, James."

"Hello," he said.

"Well, hello! My, you're—" and she hesitated but recovered, "looking good in that suit. Very sharp!"

"Thank you," he said. "And that dress suits you. It compliments your hair."

Diane blushed, touched her hair, and said, "Thank you. Have you two been an item long?"

Lydia glanced at James and said, "Oh, no, we've not been going out long. But when we met, we found we had so much in common. And, of course, he is easy on the eyes."

James smiled, "Lydia, you're a beautiful woman. You could have your pick of any man here. And you're a great dancer. I'm so glad you invited me."

Diane's eyes widened, and she said, "I'll let you two kids get on with it. It was nice to see you."

"And you, Diane. I'm so glad things are going well," Lydia said.

Diane walked to her husband, glancing back at James and Lydia more than once during her journey.

Lydia put her hand over her mouth and laughed. "Oh my god, that was fun!"

"Let's find a seat," said James. "Now that the word's out, I bet a few more curious classmates will want to chat."

They found a table away from the bustle of the bar and the dance floor. He held her chair as she sat, then sat close by. They sipped their drinks and noticed a few women circling by checking them out.

"Word spreads fast," he said.

She turned to him and said, "Thank you."

He looked confused. "For what?"

"For playing along," she said.

He shook his head and took her hand. "Lydia, I'm not playing. I'm your date tonight. I'm having a great time. Everything I said was true."

"Really?"

James moved his drink to the side and said, "I'd like to try something. With your permission, I'd like to kiss you. Would that be OK?"

Lydia looked a little shocked but nodded.

James put his hand behind her head and leaned in. The kiss was gentle, tender, and electric. She closed her eyes, and her heart raced. When the kiss broke, he touched her cheek and smiled.

"Wow," she said.

James suppressed a smile. "Unexpected?"

"Very," she said, then she straightened.

"So, Mr. Grant, are you a stalker, wedding crasher, or something else?" Lydia sipped her drink.

"Not a stalker," he assured her, "and I've never crashed a wedding. As for something else, yes, I'm a software engineer. And I'm a proud Groverton North High School graduate, a school that just happens to be having a class reunion across the hall. Fancy that!"

"Sorry," she said, "I just didn't expect to have such a good time tonight. I've been expecting the other shoe to drop."

He nodded graciously. "I will accept your left-handed compliment about having a good time. But I might offer this bit of advice: sometimes good things happen. Be happy and accept them."

She gazed into her drink. "You're right. It's been a while since I've had a nice outing. I've forgotten how to act. Forgive me?"

He put his hand over his heart and said, "Already forgotten."

She took a healthy slug of her drink and said quickly, "Would you kiss me again?" She blushed, and her gaze sunk.

There was some passion in this kiss. He moved closer, held her head with his hands, and gingerly slipped his tongue into her mouth. She reached for him, had a sharp intake of air, and returned the gesture, lips touching, tongues probing, eyes closed and breath warm, hearts racing, and a rush throughout their bodies.

After a few moments, he leaned his forehead to hers and said, "You look beautiful tonight."

"You actually mean it," she said.

He chuckled and shook his head. "That was your outside voice," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. Hearing the music start again, she said, "Do you want to dance?"

He stood, extended his hand, and walked her to the dance floor. The tempo had increased in the new selections, but it was still suitable for couples to dance together.

"Are you having trouble wrapping your head around the idea that I find you interesting and attractive?" He said.

She held him close and said, "I will stop being a stick in the mud." Glancing up, she added, "You are a very handsome young man, and I'm having a wonderful time. Thank you."

They danced, and he pondered. Finally, he said, "It's the age difference, isn't it? Is that the problem?"

"Well," she said, "I am twenty years older. It is a thing."

He stopped the dance, held her by the shoulders, and said, "Not to me." He shrugged. "Look, I believe the trick is to find somebody interesting, who you can talk to, who will listen and support you, not just to find somebody your age."

She stared at him for a moment before embracing him again and moving to the music. "I'm sorry. I'm throwing up defenses so I don't get my hopes up."

"It's too late for me," he said, then he kissed her again in the middle of the dance floor.

After a time, she said, "People are staring."

"Let them," he said. But he glanced around and laughed. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Chapter 3: Hand in Hand

The dancers parted like the Red Sea when they walked hand-in-hand from the dance floor. Lydia felt their eyes on her as she passed. James opened the door, and Lydia passed through into the relative quiet of the open area. Pianos continued to play. He pulled her into a small recess out of sight and held her.

"This is a little more private," he said, and he kissed her.

She melted into his arms, her hands reaching behind him and cupping his ass, causing him to snicker. "I like this playful version of you," he said. "Much more fun."

He backed into the corner, and she pinned him to the wall, kissing him, running her hands over his chest, face, and arms. She looked up at him, breathless, wide-eyed, and smiling.

"You don't have any plans for the evening, do you?" She asked.

He smiled. "My schedule's open," he replied.

He took him by the hand and walked him to the elevators. Once inside and during the interminable ride to the seventeenth floor, they kept their eyes forward, gazing into their reflection.

"Can you see how beautiful you look?" He said softly.

"I can see how you look at me," she said. "That's all that matters."

They walked from the elevator to her room. Standing before the door, James said, "Where's your purse? Did you carry one?"

She smirked, turned her back, and produced the key card for the door.

"Now, where was that hiding?" He said.

"Never you mind," she replied, opening the door.

She walked through, and he followed her to the center of the room, turning, holding, and kissing her, running his hands down her back and to her ass, then a palm over her breast, and slipping his mouth down to her neck.

"Help me out of this dress," she said.

He paused, straightened, and moved behind her, unclasping the top hook and slowly sliding the zipper down. She walked to the closet, stepped out of her heels, and turned to him. The dress slipped off her shoulders, and she stepped out. She hung it in the closet and returned to him wearing only a black bra, panties, and nylons. Her breasts, creamy and full, jutted out from her thin frame. He stood mesmerized.

"I hope you like what you see," she said.

He shook his head. "I thought the dress made you look beautiful, but if anything, it muted your true beauty. You're a goddess," he whispered, holding her head and kissing her once more.

She unbuttoned his suit jacket, and he shucked it off and tossed it into a chair. He continued kissing her while she pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He removed his cuff links and dropped them in his pocket.

When the shirt came off, he stood in his trousers, T-shirt, and shoes. They stood staring into each other's eyes. James tore off his T-shirt and slipped off his shoes. Again, they paused.

Lydia sat on the bed and removed her nylons. James sat beside her, pulled off his socks, and tossed them into a corner. She then slipped from the bed to the floor, kneeling before him, unfastening his belt and the button of his trousers, and sliding the zipper to the end of its travel. James lifted his ass so she could slide the trousers to his heels.

His erection was struggling against his boxers. Her hands rubbed his shaft through the fabric, and small drops of pre-cum dotted his underwear. He leaned back and lifted his ass once more, and as his boxers slipped to the floor, his cock sprang free. He sighed as she grasped its length and slowly jacked it.

She looked into his eyes as she dropped her mouth onto his cock, licking its head and swirling around the glans until she sank down his shaft, sucking and licking the underside of its length. Her free hand lifted and jostled his balls.

His head flew back, and he whispered, "Lydia."

She pulled off his cock with a pop and jacked it a couple of times for good measure before standing before him. He rose from the bed and held her in his arms, his cock trapped between them. He kissed her while reaching behind her and unhooking her bra. She moved her hands to hold the cups of the bra and whispered, "I'm not young anymore."