The card game, he thinks, will go something like this: they'll agree on the stakes like last time, and like last time the game will be poker. Of the strip variety and they'll set up at the table in his room or in her room -- it doesn't matter which -- and she'll deal because she's the expert. She's the one who knows her way around a deck of cards intimately, while he considers himself little more than a novice.
There will be some back-and-forth: he'll win a hand or two; she'll win an equal or greater number of hands. And then the stakes will get higher, because there won't be so very many clothes left. After all, he only wears what any man wears while Faye's outfit is full of hidden items. Even though he's undressed her countless times, he's never stopped to actually count the number of items that compose her outfit. She wears more than he does, despite the fact that more of her shows when she's wearing it.
Who could help but notice that?
And then, when he's just about to lose, he'll insist that she be the one to help him out of his last item of clothing and then... then the dance will begin. Slowly at first, because that's how the best dances always start, and then it will pick up speed and intensity until the time for idle conversation is a thing of the past and the only sounds that matter are the small involuntary ones and the beating of their hearts and the percussion of their bodies' rhythms.
That's how he suspects things will go from here.
Reaching across the table, he covers her arm with his hand.
"I can hardly wait."
Later, he'll be hard-pressed to recall getting up out of the booth and moving toward the door. But the one thing he'll never, ever forget is the gleam of anticipation in Faye's huge green eyes and the way it makes him weak in the knees.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-10-31 06:10 am (UTC)There will be some back-and-forth: he'll win a hand or two; she'll win an equal or greater number of hands. And then the stakes will get higher, because there won't be so very many clothes left. After all, he only wears what any man wears while Faye's outfit is full of hidden items. Even though he's undressed her countless times, he's never stopped to actually count the number of items that compose her outfit. She wears more than he does, despite the fact that more of her shows when she's wearing it.
Who could help but notice that?
And then, when he's just about to lose, he'll insist that she be the one to help him out of his last item of clothing and then... then the dance will begin. Slowly at first, because that's how the best dances always start, and then it will pick up speed and intensity until the time for idle conversation is a thing of the past and the only sounds that matter are the small involuntary ones and the beating of their hearts and the percussion of their bodies' rhythms.
That's how he suspects things will go from here.
Reaching across the table, he covers her arm with his hand.
"I can hardly wait."
Later, he'll be hard-pressed to recall getting up out of the booth and moving toward the door. But the one thing he'll never, ever forget is the gleam of anticipation in Faye's huge green eyes and the way it makes him weak in the knees.