Dancing In the Moonlight
"C'Mon." She purred, waving her hips, "Dance with me."
"You've got to be kidding," He responded, stuffing a forkfull of noodles into his mouth, "Dancing is one thing I don't do. Unless you get me very drunk."
She shook her head, "Aww, c'mon...Don't be a baby. Dancing's supposed to be one of the world's major artforms, you know."
"Yeah, and they don't need me fouling it up for fourteen centuries of high art," He snorted derisively. He watched her eyes change, almost in color from hot to cold. He knew better than to make her mad. "OK, OK, I'll dance..." He pushed himself carefully away from the dinner table, not wanting to spoil the nice silk shirt she'd purchased just for their anniversary.
He couldn't help but notice how nice she looked; a lovely silver evening gown, which swirled about her ankles like metallic water. The ersatz pearls she wore about her neck seemed to compliment the quiet, icy poise of the dress. He wrapped both of his arms around her waist, swaying back and forth to the music in what he felt was the least-embarrassing motion possible.
"Mmm..." She remarked, enjoying the added warmth of his body in what was an undeniably chilly house at the moment, "Nice."
"Just nice?"
"Do I hear a 'fabulous'? She joked. He laughed, then simply stroked the bared skin of her shoulder. She shivered, anticipating.
"Steven?"
"Mrr?" He asked; his mouth, just moments before, had descended upon her neck.
"Do I dance a little better than Ivory?"
He laughed, "I love Lisa like a sister, but camels dance better than she does."
She pinched his wrist, disciplinary for a moment, "Don't be mean." But, slyly, she added, "Do I?"
"Of course."
"And Chyna?"
"We never danced together."
"What about Jazz?"
"I can't judge, when it comes to her. Jazz always used to lead."
They shared a glance, and a laugh...followed by a warm, enveloping kiss. She melted into his embrace, warming to each sensation he brought. When they broke apart when the music began skipping at odd, irregular intervals. He groaned, releasing her from his embrace while she went to check on their CD player.
"We need a head cleaner for this thing." Victoria proclaimed, blowing across the CD she'd removed from the machine. Then she polished at perceived scratches with the tip of her finger.
"CD Players," He announced, sitting down at the table, "Don't have heads."
She rolled her eyes at him, "Of course, Mr. electronics wiz." She sat down at her own spot at the dining room table. They continued their dinner happily, but in silence.
When the meal was almost complete, Steven spoke up suddenly, "Darling?"
"Yes?" Victoria responded.
"I adore you. Happy Anniversary."
"Thank you, baby."
"Don't you adore me?"
"Of course," She kissed the fingertips of each proffered hand, then continued on with a wicked smirk, "But when you have a blob of cheese and mac on your nose? Less so."