The Mating Dance

“Patty, pick up your weapon,” he commands from across the room.

I gasp. OUT LOUD. The "regulars" giggle...'in the know', about my "student teacher", drop dead gorgeous in his body hugging leather and suede, dressed for the rapier and dagger fighting class, the one I decided to observe on the spur of the moment.

"But, I'm just here to watch... and I'm..."

"PICK UP YOUR WEAPON PATTY!" he commands.

"Ohhhhkay" I squeak out breathlessly as he moves closer to my being. I feel my body pulled to him like metal to a magnet. I try to stay composed, use every acting skill I ever learned to seem disinterested, but I feel my knees give out and I fall to the floor at the nearness of him. I hear the roar of the class, hysterical with my obvious relinquishment.

"Oh my", he jests, "that was the easiest victory ever".

I crawl across the floor to my book bag and vow to kick his ass at his own game. And, when Patty puts her mind to something, Patty wins.

Over the next month I spend the hours in class, along with the other horny girls, drop jawed, at the sight and skill of him...but that is not to say that I am not 'in the game'.

I want him, and I am used to getting what I want.

On this May day, class ends none too soon. I feign a reason to stay. He is not deceived.

The room is now empty, except for him...and me. All the chatty girls, envious of my strategy, except for Wendy, who saunters to the door then turns to give me a wink on her way out. The soft light of the setting sun warming the shellacked pine floor with an orange glow, the shadows from the pear trees marking the floor like footsteps, a trail on the sun kissed horizon into paradise. And oh, how I felt I was. This perfect room, isolated in the back of the building, windows way up high on three sides. The skylight angled like the roof itself, the trees bending over to it, shielding the depressingly cloudy english skies. It felt more like a cabin in Colorado, than a rehearsal hall in England.

"I assume you've stayed to redeem your honor," he growls playfully, his back to me, in a show of nonchalance.

"Indeed, I have," I dare, breathless with anticipation.

He turns. I flush...still.

We start in a bind.

Our swords tapping the beat of my heart at the thought of finally, after weeks of the chase, having him to myself.

“And, parry”!

Oh, I have been practicing my sweet man. You have no idea what this little Peppermint Patty has been up to. I have always been underestimated. A book judged badly because of it’s rag tag, disconnected cover. Our curses are also our gifts when used at the right time.

It will serve me well today.

I pull an Abnemen and free myself easily from his light hold. He looks surprised.

“I see I’m in for a fight.”

You bet your ass you are. (And I mean literally…his tight muscular ass calls to my greedy hands.)

We jar back and forth across the slick wood floor like pros…back arms high, keeping the balance, swords clinking and clanking the beats of my plan, desire growing with every advance, with every retreat.

There is nothing sexier than a man who can handle a strong woman’s strength. Not for me anyway.

This mating dance is playing out in physical form.

I am dancing in it, and above it, both at once.

Directing and playing the part.

Oh the story of the heart.

I see it now.

I am winning, by a long…

“Concede! Concede I say!”

I am backed into a corner, my body lying, arched back on a stack of cushioned stunt mats.

His on top of mine.

His breath as hot as my desire.

His cocky ego arising twice in his head.

I feel it’s pulse.

He knows it.

Time has stopped in a perfect moment of desire that will stay in my consciousness to visit for all the days of my life.

I knew it then, as I know it now.

This was one of those moments.

The ones fairytales are written of.

The ones that great love stories bloom in.

The ones that end with happily ever after.

And right now… it’s mine, for the taking.

"You win"… I say…breathless with desire.

My body accepting the growing pulses of his manhood, our swords and our arms criss crossed above our heads in a pretty picture of concession, if this were only being filmed for the movies.

“I win.” He wraps his arm around my tiny bound waist, and pushes his lean tight body against mine and waits.

A master of self control.

Beat by beat I feel his desire…

“What does the winner win?”

He says softly, slowly, all the while deftly unhooking my bra beneath my shirt with the flick of his fingers. The sun has laid itself down with us now, and then, as if a perfectly timed, a beautifully choreographed beat on the stage, the building lights go out…and with them, the wait.

It was like a perfect union. Like nothing I’ve ever felt. Like the sun and the moon and the stars aligned inside my body. It was…

The door swings open. The light switch assaulted.

It’s the University Headmistress. “William, you have a phone call. I suggest you take it. NOW.”

I am frozen in naked fear. Like a dear in headlights but worse.

He whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry darling. We all have secrets.”

He pecks me on the cheek. Throws his sweaty clothes over his cum stained body, and struts out like a peacock after his conquest of a peahen.

He called me darling. I’m his darling. I’m his…

I get dressed slowly, inhaling the scent of him with every breath.

I gather myself and walk to the double doors. I push them open into the cold, wet English night air, my eyes looking up at the non starry night, my head in the clouds of love, my heart full.

I smile.

"I WIN".