Flash Fiction : Owen and Rena

The song changed to Rod Stewart’s raspy voice crooning a classic Billy Holiday  love song, but before Milo could swing Rena into another dance, Owen tapped him on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” he asked.

Milo grimaced slightly at Rena, but relinquished his hold on her.  Rena almost laughed at his expression, but before she could, Owen’s warm hand encompassed  hers.

Rena  braced herself for an agonizing three minutes and was thoroughly surprised when Owen guided her into a nice slow dance.  Not a standard two-foot shuffle, but a dance that moved them around the dance floor.

Rena glanced up through her lashes at his face.

“I’ve surprised you, haven’t I?”  He questioned.

Rena thought of denying it, but that wouldn’t be very fair.  Plus, she was a terrible liar.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Owen chuckled. ” I think you underestimate me too much.”

When Rena colored slightly at his truthful statement, he chuckled again.

“I don’t mean to make you blush, however you do it so beautifully, I won’t say I’m sorry.”

Rena cleared her throat.  “Where did you learn to dance?”

“My grandma.  She thought it would e a good thing for me to know.  Ya never know when It’ll come in handy.  ‘Specially when you are impressing a woman.”  Owen spun her around and when she landed against his chest, she was breathless.  She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled past her lips.

“Very true,” she said, the lame statement making her wince inwardly.  She had suddenly lost her composure, viewing Owen as a potential, even though she wasn’t quite sure why.  All she knew was she wanted to impress him a little.  Which meant her mind had left her.

She stared at the open neck of his plaid shirt and tried to  come up with something witty.  Impossible.  Her mind was blank, and the more she tried, the worse it got.  Instead, she started noticing how Owen’s palm rested on her waist; how he smelled of laundry soap and a hint of gasoline; and she also noticed how small she felt in his arms.  He was so tall.  Lanky.  Lean.

He was everything Milo was not.  He was not sophisticated.  He didn’t have all the smooth social graces that usually attracted Rena.  However, he was charming in his own way.  Quiet, gentle, and just a little bit different.  He wasn’t classically good looking.  His face was long and lean, somewhat rugged.  But he had amazing blue eyes.  And his voice was deep and raspy.   He was sort of a contradiction.

And Rena had no clue what to think.

 

I have this novel I have been writing for ages.  Literally ages. I started it twelve years ago.  Rena (pronounced REE na) used to be named Kate.  Ha ha, I know, I was modeling her after me.  And novel is a joke too as it’s random bits of stuff I’ve written. Milo is modeled after Milo Ventimiglia whom I was crushing on when I was 18. (Hey, I loved Gilmore Girls)

 Owen.  Well Owen is modeled after a guy who is interested in me in town.  He’s a logger.  He’s charming in his own way, but his life isn’t quite what I need.  However, it does make for good fiction.  And this little piece I may

or

It Had to Be You: The Great American Songbook
Image via Wikipedia

may not use at some point, but I was listening to Rod Stewart’s The Great American Songbook cd, and I flashed to this. ( I really love this cd, even though it got a lot of flak, and my father makes fun of it. Sure, it’s not Buble, but it has some of my favorite old tunes on it)  It was fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it.

Signing off
~Kate

A Christmas Dance

"Dance with me," he requested, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me,”  Scott requested, holding out his hand.  He pulled Claudine into his arms and guided her in time to the soft Christmas music issuing from the speakers. 

They were the only ones at the informal party dancing.  Everyone else had been chatting around the coffee table as fragrant cups of steaming coffee were handed out in delicate china cups.  Trays of sweets were passed around on large trays.  Luscious tarts, elegantly decorated sugar cookies, and rich morsels of English toffee, covered the trays.

She had been sitting in a pine green velvet chair next to the large white pine Christmas tree  bedazzled in stunning turquoise and cranberry balls.  Lavish, glittering snowflakes hid among the branches while crystal icicles dripped from the branches.  While the tree could have been considered very patriotic, it’s very essence was luxurious and elegant.  The little twinkle lights sparkled and caused the faceted ornaments to send shimmering light across Claudine’s gown.  The flame colored gown of silk Georgette  sparkled  as she sat apart from the gathering of people.  The lights even made her sable hair light up with little twinkles.  She looked hauntingly beautiful.  She also looked hauntingly sad.

 Lost in her thoughts, Scott had hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but a crystal tear, caught in the corner of her eye, like a delicately placed diamond, demanded he remedy the situation.

Claudine danced silently, her thoughts troubled by his closeness.  She had been lost in thought when his deep voice and outstretched hand had brought her crashing back to reality.  She wasn’t sure why she had accepted his request.  He disturbed her in ways she couldn’t explain.  She wasn’t sure how she felt about him other than she was always on guard.  A feeling of helplessness always centered in her chest when he was near.  As if she didn’t know what to say next.  Or what he would say.

“Are you better now?”  he asked gently.

“Of-,” her voice broke and she cleared her throat.  “Of course I am.  Why do you ask?”

Her tone was defensive and he smiled at her prickly question.  His hand held her’s loosely, while the palm of his other rested on her hip, just a touch possesively.  He wanted to pull her closer, but thought she might object.

“You seemed to somber a bit ago.”

“Was I?  I can’t remember why,” she mused.

“Well, the tears are gone.”

“Tears?”

“You had one caught,” and he touched the corner of her eye with his fingertip, her lashes brushing feather-soft.  “Right there.”

“Oh.”  Her voice was soft.  “Certain Christmas music always seems to make me a bit misty eyed.”

“Hmm,” was all he said.  He didn’t believe her.  He gave into temptation and pulled her just a little bit closer.  He grinned as he heard her breath hitch.

“Do I bother you?”  he questioned.  He felt he knew the answer, and his suspicions were confirmed as her emotions warred and flashed across her face.  He felt her fingers clench in the wool of his forest green pullover.  Her pansy brown eyes grew big and round and a faint flush of rose spread over her cheeks.

“I do, don’t I?”  he said in amazement.

She stared resolutely at the collar of his white shirt.  She wasn’t sure what she’d blurt out if she looked up into his coffee-colored eyes.

“Yes,” she finally muttered.

“Pardon, can you repeat that?  I didn’t hear you,” he asked as he inclined his head closer to her mouth.

“Yes!” she hissed.  “You do bother me.”

“Why?”  He looked down into her eyes, now glittering with more unshed tears, as if the admission had cost her.  He thought she might not answer, as she kept silent for a long while, her lush mouth compressed in a tight line.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, eventually.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” she muttered in reply.

His laugh was low, but rich and full of body.  It swirled around her, and she felt the vibrations travel through her body.  The motion made her breathless as tingles of awareness moved through her body.  She glanced up at him through her lashes, eyeing him carefully.  She must have given something away; she wasn’t sure what, but before she could protest, his mouth settled on hers, ever so softly.

He kissed her gently, lingeringly, and when he pulled back, it was his turn to have troubled eyes.

“Whoa,” he murmured.  His eyes searched her’s, feeling a blaze of something hit his gut as she inclined her head closer to his.

He kissed her again, then spun her around as the music continued to play softly.

 

 

Like I mentioned over on Escaping the Inkwell, I’ve been inspired by Emilie Loring right now.  This bit of flash fiction came after listening to some really nice instrumental jazz Christmas music.  I just pictured this grand old home, with a large living room, decked out in gorgeous Christmas decorations, a la Martha Stewart.  From there, I wondered why someone would be dancing.  Well, of course, me being the romantic I am, I needed a guy and a girl.  I’ve been playing around with names, and Claudine seemed nice.  Scott is a name from a Loring, so I borrowed it.  I borrow names all the time.  I’m terrible at name hunting.

So, if you can picture it, there they were, dancing.  Picture Kevin Kline’s line to Meg Ryan in French Kiss.  “And we’re dancing.”

Signing off

~Kate