Re: In the woods, near a path
This damsel was not in distress, and they might end the evening with a battle at the end of her stiletto. If he tried to tie her down on some train tracks, he would find himself fighting against her stockings as the train light bore down on him. Oh-wait, she wasn't wearing stockings, but you get the drift. She wasn't a victim, and the confidence newly found in baring thigh and shoulder wasn't going to make her a victim. If anything, it was just the opposite. Wallflower was demand. Look at me, like what you see, go home salivating. That was this girl, Romeo, but she was willing to be your Juliet on one condition. She would be adored. She wanted to taste that drink and slurp from that fountain, so come on and bring the lover's only slow dance. Gaze into her eyes, Romeo. You know you want to.
"You were meant to find me. There's no other girl like me in the world," she said with a sure little smile that whispered certainty without the need to scream it at the night sky. He dipped her, and she went with a poise that confessed dance classes alongside debutantes in pink leotards and the milkiest of white tights. One of her hands slid along the back of his neck as he hauled her up, and she slid that arm smoothly along his shoulders when he pulled her close.
"No," she agreed. "Not biker girls. Trashy girls with bubblegum lips and expensive pink cardigans? Daddy's dirty troublemaker. The kind of girl that wears knee-length-pleats to church on Sunday." She twirled, and there was delight in her grin. His mouth was close, but she pulled back a little bit, then a little bit more. Space, breath, and she wasn't something on a shelf. He couldn't pull her off and buy her. Her fingertips slid into the ends of his hair, and she tipped her head, ear nearly to shoulder, when he said she might be the prettiest thing he'd seen all year. "I still haven't decided where you rank," she told him. "I suppose my boyfriend would insist you rank second." That bad boy? That quarterback? Someone she'd made up when she'd swallowed liquid wow? Did it matter? "I'll dance with you."
She spun, and she pulled back at that twirl. She held him at arm's length, fingers still in his, and she swayed her hips with an expertise crafted in liquid. It was a pretty roll of hips, and she took a little step back, another, another. Her face was illuminated in moonkiss, and she crooked her finger. Did the bad boy follow? Was he the type?