Not Just Any Dancing Day

Author\'s Note: I\'d like to thank those who have been beta testing my story and those reviewing them! Though, I give the biggest credit to my friend for the purpose of this story because without his insight this story probably would not have taken shape.

Chapter Three: Learning New Things

I stepped out of the room and into the foyer of the building. I glanced around and noticed my mystery girl sitting outside on a planter, her back to me. I quietly exited and came up to the planter where she was alone. I was not sure if she knew I had come outside so I hung back a moment. She had her legs crossed, her long legs visible and bare since she had pulled her skirt aside slightly. I studied her for a minute, taking in the shape of her back, her hair moving in the soft, cool summer breeze, and the womanly shape of her silhouette.

“It was refreshing to dance with someone who knows what they are doing,” she said, breaking the silence suddenly. “Very rarely do I find a good partner.”

“I feel the same,” I answered. “There are not nearly enough great girl partners in Mrs. Peterson’s classes.”

She turned and faced me, one of her sly smiles spreading on her lips again. She patted a spot next to her on the planter.

“Come join me,” she invited.

I carefully pulled myself onto the planter and and sat next to her, taking in a much closer view of her figure.

“What is your name?” I finally asked.

“Elena,” she said. “And I believe you are Memphis?”

I looked at her in surprise, “How do you know who I am?”

“I have seen you in a few of Mrs. Peterson’s shows,” she explained. “She also likes to talk about her favorite students behind their backs in her other classes.”

“I see,” I answered, still surprised.

“It is not your real name, though,” she added in quickly.

“Why do you say that?” I said with a lifted curious eyebrow.

“It doesn’t seem to quite fit you,” Elena said, her eyes looking me up and down. “More like a nickname.”

“Well, you’re right,” I conceded. “My real name is Will.”

“Ah, Will,” she said. “What a true British name.”

I could not help but feel a strange sensation rise up inside of me as Elena mouthed my given name. It just sounded so right. Then it dawned upon me she knew more about myself than I did of her.

“Is it that obvious or did you know already?” I laughed.

“Not obvious,” she said, leaning closer to me, her face inches away once more. “And no I did not know before you are from Britain. Certain words you say I can hear the inflection. Though it is not quite English.”

“Scottish actually,” I said, informing her of my place of birth and home for my first decade of life.

“Close enough,” Elena said with a quirky wink.

“Close enough to what?” I asked.

“I have an obsession with British fellows like you,” she said, moving even closer. “It must be the accent and charm.”

I suddenly felt her hand on my thigh, just above my knee. She gazed lazily at me, her lips close enough that I could feel her warm breath against my skin. I felt myself losing control of the situation again; she knew she had an affect on me. Her fingers inched up a little higher than before.

“Or perhaps,” she started. “It is because you know how to truly be a gentlemen and treat women unlike the silly American boys.”

Her voice had dropped lower to a barely audible whisper floating on the breeze and her tone and changed to a lustful chant that was drawing me deeper into her spellbinding control. I knew if I did not stop myself, I might find myself going somewhere I was not quite sure I wanted to go.

“Maybe it is American girls like you who need taming,” I said, turning her game around onto her. “Then again, you yourself are not all you appear to be.”

“Quite right,” Elena answered, her breath coming heavy. “Spanish on my mother’s side and Argentinean on my father’s.”

I said nothing in response but smiled sweetly. On the outside, I kept a serene calmness but on the inside, I felt the war raging between my common sense and my wild need to taste her lips and much more beyond just that. I did not have one-night stands; it was not my way of courting someone. I prefer to know the person on an intellectual and personal level before becoming intimate. However, never before had I felt myself so needful of a female touch to calm me. This position I was in was completely new and unknown to me and I was afraid of what I might do if I did not keep it in check. I was no virgin boy but why was my body reacting so to her whims?

As if fate had planned to save me from my uncertainty, one of our fellow students burst through the doors to come outside.

“Mrs. Peterson wants you to help her with waltz,” piped up the young high school freshman boy.

“I will be there in a moment,” I said turning to him and watched him as he went.

“I think I will skip out on the waltz,” Elena said, hopping down from the planter and started walking towards the parking lot.

“Wait,” I said, my voice speaking faster than I was thinking.

Elena turned and waited for what I was going to say.

“Would you care to do something tomorrow night?” I asked. “See a movie or maybe get a couple drinks?”

She appeared to contemplate it for a moment and then smiled.

“Why not,” she said. “Let’s go for drinks. I’m not one for movies, especially what they have out these days. What time and where?”

“Seven, we can go to a little place I know,” I offered. “I will need your address to pick you up.”

“Follow me to my car, I have some paper and a pen in there,” Elena said.

* * *

The rest of the night was a blur to me as I helped Mrs. Peterson in class and then drove home later that night. When I arrived home, I took out the piece of paper I had in my pocket and curiously read over the address Elena had given to me. I contemplated her as I stared at her handwriting. Even her penmanship was vastly different than many girls I knew; it lacked the annoyingly loopy and bubbly style. It very much fit her personality and I wondered to myself more about where I thought I would be going with this.