Enchanted Dreams (8 page)

"What's wrong?" she whispered breathlessly.

"Not a thing, now that you're here," he replied with his usual, good-natured manner. But before Maryanne could even accept or reject this, he stood up and turned toward the hostess without having given her more than a cursory glance. "Here she is," he said to the woman apologetically. "I really appreciate you holding the table."

And with that Maryanne was suddenly being ushered along behind the hostess, with a little nudge from Dan to the small of her back. She felt trapped between the two of them and suddenly terribly claustrophobic. In the back of her mind, she had a premonition of something tragic about to occur but she ignored it, turning her mind angrily to the moment instead, and thinking that she didn't really care whether or not the hostess had to hold the table. That was what hostesses were paid to do, after all. Why must Maryanne be flung around like a rag doll, without even so much as the courtesy of a greeting just to make life easier for the restaurant staff?

Maryanne kept walking but she turned her head toward Dan as she went, prepared to toss a flip remark along these lines in his direction. But the remark instantly died in her throat. She saw that his eyes were glued on someone else, and she knew without even following his gaze who it was that had captured his interest. It was a woman that she had barely noticed a moment before, except perhaps in that way women do tend to notice other women. She suddenly remembered her in vivid detail. She could almost visualize each and every feature at the same moment that Dan was seeing it, just by watching his eyes move up and down over the woman with keen interest.

And then Dan's eyes met Maryanne's.

They arrived at their table. The woman in question had passed by and was gone. Maryanne fumbled with her chair and clumsily seated herself. She felt awkward and ridiculous. She dug her nails into her palms and tried her best to appear nonchalant.

She noticed with another wave of humiliation that Dan's eyes were full of remorse.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly. Maryanne merely looked at him with a confused expression, as if she had no idea what he could possibly be sorry for. Her lips were formed into a small, humorless smile. She wanted to brush the matter aside but she didn't trust herself to speak. "Look, I know that you're upset. You saw me looking at that woman, right? I'm sorry. It was like…I didn't even realize I was doing it until I saw your face."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she told him, praying he would drop the subject. But she could hear that her voice held that tone; the tone was a dead giveaway that there
was
something to be sorry for. She tilted her head to hide her face and pretended to examine the menu. Above all, she desperately hoped that he wouldn't humiliate her further by patronizing her with some perfunctory compliment. She far preferred him to continue to not notice her at all. She tried to think of something to say to change the subject.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said, immobilizing her in horror. Every word he uttered drove her further away from him. "You're the most beautiful woman in the room."

"I worked late so I didn't even have time to change," she lied. "I almost didn't show up at all, so you see your compliments only make you appear less sincere." She definitely didn't want him thinking she had gone to any trouble.

"Well, what I mean is that you look beautiful without having to lift a finger."

She was in turmoil, but the smile remained stubbornly fixed on her lips. Inwardly she was comparing this night with their first date, when he had been indulgent over her tardiness and took note of every detail about her with keen interest. But this was really no surprise, she reminded herself. Hadn't she predicted this very outcome that first night?

"You're thinking that this is a sign that I am beginning to do the guy thing and lose interest in you."

"What I was thinking was that I wish you would change the subject."

"You see!" he exclaimed. "That's what I mean. If this didn't really upset you, your eyes would be flashing with excitement right now while you pointed out how right you were."

Maryanne was momentarily taken aback. He was perfectly right. And she was impressed with him all over again in spite of what had happened. She sighed. It was so disconcerting to know that as she grew more attracted to him, he would only grow less attracted to her. The waitress came and they ordered drinks.

Maryanne was becoming more composed.

"Okay," she conceded, pulling her thoughts together. "Although I am hardly upset, as you suggest, I will admit that I was thinking that the disenchantment has already begun. Just as I predicted that it would. Just as I knew it would. I never for an instant believed it would be otherwise. So why should I be surprised or upset?"

"All because I looked at another woman?"

She shrugged. "That and other things."

He looked at her sideways, confused. "Other things?"

She was careful to phrase her words so that she didn't give her true feelings away. She would discuss it with him—she found that she was intrigued by the prospect of doing so—but she would never let him see how much he had hurt her. She could never let him know that she'd been fooled by him, even for a single moment. That would be the worst thing she could do.

"When I met you here tonight, every detail of our meeting was precisely the same as it was the first time, right down to how late I was."
Except that I worked ten times harder to impress you tonight,
she added to herself. "I planned it that way so that I could compare how you behaved tonight with how you behaved back then. Suffice it to say, you were more considerate, attentive, and much more intrigued with me when I was a stranger. So yes, I would say that it's already starting."

He stared at her, momentarily speechless. In the meantime, their drinks arrived. He sipped his thoughtfully.

"Maybe this…thing that happens with guys isn't what you think. Maybe it
seems
one way to you, but that's not the way it really is. I know, for example, that I have been thinking about you nonstop all day. Every minute that I waited for you in the front of this restaurant tonight was pure agony. My feelings for you are stronger than a month ago, so the only thing I can think is that somehow my behavior is not showing you how I really feel."

"That may be true," she said. "But what does it matter? I'm not a mind reader, so your behavior, not what you're thinking, is what has an effect on me." She suddenly remembered the way his eyes had moved over the woman earlier. It was precisely how they had traveled over her the first time he saw her. And now, for all of her efforts that day, he had yet to really look at her.

"Well, I'll just have to be more aware of it and try harder," he said. He took another sip from his drink. But he was suddenly anxious. "Will you allow me that—the chance to become a better man?"

She felt a tug at her heartstrings in spite of her unhappiness. Yet she couldn't help wondering why men clung so tenaciously to women when their instincts were telling them to let go. And she couldn't help being irritated with him, either. Why was he so intent on selling her something he had no ability to deliver? This could have been so much more fun if he had just allowed her to remain indifferent. But he had to push her for more and now she had stupidly allowed herself to fall for him. She found his disenchantment utterly despicable. And the worst part was,
her
disenchantment was the one thing that had the power to intrigue him all over again!

She was once again struck by the utter hopelessness of relationships.

She couldn't bring herself to answer his question either way, but luckily the waitress came by at that moment to take their order. For dinner, she ordered another martini.

With Dan once again the attentive pursuer, his eyes seemed to open suddenly and he really looked at Maryanne for the first time that night.

"If this is how you dress for work," he observed thoughtfully, "I think you should switch to a career in modeling."

She downed the rest of her martini in a single gulp and shrugged. "What, you think I look good tonight?" She said this as if it were the most absurd thing she had ever heard.

Dan laughed. "Yeah, I think you look good. Too good." He picked up her hand and carefully examined her perfectly manicured pink fingernails. "Mmm," he remarked thoughtfully. "I don't think they're working you hard enough over there."

"Well, you know how it is," she countered nonchalantly. His playful mood was catching. "Some of us make it look easier than others."

"I guess so!" he agreed emphatically. He turned to her hair, picking up a lock and examining it as he twirled it between his fingers. "And I would say that the air-conditioning in that place is set to the perfect temperature and humidity for hair. Just look at the condition of this curl!"

She turned her eyes as if to examine it with him. "Humph," she said, pretending to ponder the matter as if she had no idea that there were at least four different hair products forcing it to perform in such an exceptional matter. "I never noticed that before."

"Yeah. Those are some great working conditions you've got over there." His attention now turned to her face. She watched his eyes as they took in everything from her delicately shaped eyebrows to her shimmering lips. "Great working conditions," he repeated thoughtfully.

While it delighted her to hear these things, every single word only served to prove that she had been right. But she only smiled.

"I think I fucked up more than I realized," he said quietly. And she could feel herself melting for him all over again in spite of everything. But the little voice inside her head cried, "Don't! You'll only make it end faster!"

And she suddenly realized that it was not his fault or hers. It simply was. And she no longer wanted to talk about it. Why rail against what is? To accept things as they were was to truly live and experience life. To fight against those things was to prevent it. She looked at Dan with appreciation. The least she could do was accept him, and in order to accept him she must forgive him. And for the first time in her life she was able to accept and forgive herself, as well.

"What are you thinking?" Dan asked her.

"I was thinking that you look pretty good yourself."

"Well, unlike you, I actually had to work at getting presentable," he joked. "Shaved and everything, see?"

Maryanne laughed.

They were back on good terms again, and they flirted and talked and laughed just like always.

But even so, later that night, when it was time to go home, Maryanne felt like being alone.

"Can I just come over and tuck you in?" he asked.

"I don't know," she hedged. "I'm not sure I'm up for it."

"Listen," he told her. "I really want to be with you tonight—no, it's not about sex, I don't even want sex—but I want to be near you…to hold you. Come on. Can I, please, can I, huh?" He began to whimper like a puppy until she relented, laughing.

"Okay, maybe just for a little while."

And he was true to his word, simply wrapping her in a blanket of warmth as he snuggled up next to her in the spoon position.

"Shhh," he interrupted when she tried to move or speak. "I don't care how much you beg or plead, you are not getting sex!" She laughed, all the more amused because his raging erection was conspicuously poking into her back. "Now just settle down and go to sleep."

But all of a sudden Maryanne didn't want to go to sleep. She wanted Dan. And she was in a dangerously indulgent mood regarding wants; it was a mood to not only satisfy those wants but to surpass them.

She wiggled her backside into him enticingly and smiled when he groaned.

"Come on," he begged. "Play fair."

She moved against him again, more persistently this time. His hips automatically jutted forward in response. She continued to rub up against him rhythmically, slowly maneuvering herself until his erection found its way in between her legs. And still she kept undulating her hips back and forth over him, enjoying the exquisitely tantalizing foreplay.

She could feel his heartbeat pounding in time with hers, but neither of them was in a hurry to put an end to the delicious torment. They knew the moment would come when all of their movements and gyrations would at last cause his erection to find its own way into her. And when it finally did, only then did Dan clamp his arms and legs around her body to hold her firmly in place as he mindlessly drove himself into her. Their bodies, which were entwined together as one and still lying down sideways, were periodically propelled forward in time with his thrusts. Maryanne couldn't move so much as an inch, Dan held her so fully restrained. But she was content, for the moment, to simply bask in the pleasure of having him exactly where she wanted him. All of her instincts rose up within her, curling and mingling with her most intense desires. "Listen," her instincts seemed to be saying. "Listen to your heart and accept what is."

She passively allowed him to hold her during this exquisite assault for as long as she was able, relishing each and every deliciously agonizing moment of delayed gratification that it brought. The pleasure she would gain from prolonging and extending her own satisfaction would be immense. And in the meantime, she enjoyed every single thrust of his body into hers, delighting in the feel of him as he took her with reckless abandon. And she could tell that he was in no hurry, either, but, rather, he was in a mood to take his time and savor every stroke right along with her. She let her hands run over his strong, muscular arms, reveling in the way they so fully restrained her. She loved the feeling of being momentarily powerless and completely surrendering to the man that she loved.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, with hers gracefully arching upward in time with his thrusts like a well-choreographed dance, and neither one wanted it to end. They remained entwined this way for the better part of an hour. But Maryanne's desire, which had merely been simmering so far, was suddenly about to erupt into a boil.

She began to struggle against him. Her hips were first to buck and thrash, and then her arms and legs followed. When he loosened his hold on her, she moved up onto her knees, clutching his hips to hers as she went so he would not leave her for a single instant. Her growing excitement as she now took control spurred him on even more. He glided his hands lovingly over her body, caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples. He let his fingers roam lower until they found her swollen clitoris and began prodding and teasing it mercilessly. She used her thighs to propel her body up and down on him in time with his thrusts. As his hands moved over her, so, too, did hers reach behind to caress him.