Dancing with Irene

She grimaced. "You don't know Aaron," she said. Even fretful and pouty-mouthed, she still looked good.

"Whether Aaron likes it or not," I said, "there are three people making decisions here. I'm not some remote-control toy he can stick batteries into and run around at his leisure."

"I know," she said, defensively. "But--"

"But nothing. One-third of what's going on here is me. One-half," I corrected. "Aaron is a bystander."

She groaned, "You're going to get me in trouble, Rob."

"You already are in trouble."

She jammed her hands between her knees and pressed her lips into a flat line.

* * *

"What do you want?" I said, looking at the menu.

"Nothing. I don't want anything."

"Irene."

"Nothing looks good."

"Irene, everything looks good."

A waiter passed with a lobster dinner and I followed him across the room with my eyes. My stomach rumbled. Irene closed her menu and said, "I just want to go home."

I leaned across the table. "Have you considered lying and telling him we did it?"

"No!" she said, as though that were preposterous.

"Why not? It would certainly solve the problem."

She looked at me, flummoxed. She shook her head. "Aaron would know."

"How?" I asked.

She blinked

"Fake it," I said.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

She turned beet red.

Ordering for us both, I chose the lobster dinner and an order of Calamari for Irene. We small-talked through salad and the bread, mostly about her children. I wondered if every time was like this for her. The Irene I remembered was an incessant chatterbox, going on for hours, mostly about nothing. I could listen to her forever. Suddenly, I said: "I'd like to take you out dancing, Irene. What do you think about that?"

She stopped mid-bite. Her eyes went wide.

"Lucas McCain's," I suggested, "over on Forty. Or maybe Donavan's?"

"No!" she said, almost explosively. "Are you nuts?"

"You like to dance, Irene. I know you do."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Come on."

"No!" She put down her fork in frustration. "Aaron would have a fit. Don't you understand that?"

"I understand it's you who should be having a fit, not Aaron."

"Please," she said, motioning with her hands. "No more."

"Then what?"

She shrugged. "Go back to the house. Do it. Get it over with."

What a great night, I thought.

* * *

"I should be paying for this."

"Not on your life," I said, giving my Visa card to the waiter.

"The tip, at least?"

"Forget it."

Outside the restaurant, I said to her, "It's two minutes after ten. We can get a newspaper, see what's playing."

She shook her head. "I'd rather just go home." She started across the parking lot. I stopped her half-way.

"I want to ask you something," I said.

"What?"

"I want you to kiss me. Right here."

She opened her eyes wide and looked around. "Here?"

"Right here and now. In front of the whole world. In front of your stupid husband, if he's looking."

She backed away a step, looking ready to flee.

"I won't make love to you Irene, unless you kiss me right here."

"But--"

I reached out and grabbed her by the biceps, drew her tight against me. She hung motionless for a time, lips frozen like a statue's, almost as cold. Then her arms were around my neck, her breasts pressed hard against my chest, her groin letting me know it was there. Her lips parted to release her tongue and she kissed me with a sudden, tremendous fury. Her purse hit the ground.

If her husband was watching, he certainly got an eye-full.

* * *

I lay with my eyes closed, breathing peacefully, my right arm across Irene's back. Her right leg lay snugged between mine. She pulled up the covers.

"You're awake," I said.

"Ummm."

"Go back to sleep."

She lifted her head. I brushed hair away from her eyes. I could just make them out in the dark.

"I am really confused," she whispered.

"You don't have to be," I said.

She looked at the bedside clock. "You have to go."

"Soon," I said. "Not yet."

She sought out my eyes. "Aaron will be here, soon."

"Screw Aaron. Aaron's a prick."

She sighed, lay her head down on my shoulder. "A couple more minutes, then," she said.

I touched her shoulder gently. Despite our lovemaking, twice now, touching her was still new. "Look," I said. "I'll say this once and then I'll go. You have to say no to any more."

She started to object, but I cut her off.

"You said yes just to get him off your back. Now that it's done--" I shushed her again "--you have to say no to any more."

"I told him that a billion times," she said. "He refuses to listen."

"He will if I refuse."

"No!" she said, almost in a panic. "Then he'll—"

"Do nothing at all."

She sat up in bed. "The only way Aaron would do nothing, Rob, is if I left him. And I can't do that." She covered her breasts, wonderfully full and swaying. "You can say no, that's your decision. I have a family to think about."

I sat up to face her. I kissed her gently on the mouth. I said to her softly, "I'm getting up now. I'm getting on my clothes and I'm getting in my car and I'm going home. I want you to come with me. You want to come with me." I slid off the bed and stood up. "Family is where you make it, Irene. What's keeping you here is fear."

She watched me get dressed. She tried to speak but I wouldn't let her. "You either come, or you don't," I said, standing at her bedroom door. "That's your decision."

A very long five seconds went by, during which she took a deep breath. "Tell me again," she said, "how much I love to dance."

And I did.

THE END