The Reception

The intense sun reflected from the white of the tent would have blinded me except for the sunglasses. Stepping out of the car I was struck by the contrasting colors; the rust red cliffs surrounding the valley, the green of the pasture offsetting the brown of the sage brush laden hills in between, the pure white of the tent and pasture fence, the off white of the parking lot gravel. The first impression of solid colors as my eyes surveyed the hills and valley changed as my eyes adapted from following the blacktop ribbon of the road. Reds blended to browns, browns to grays and greens, greens to grays and browns. Nearer in, the caterers were backed up to the tent unloading food and drinks in preparation for the party about to begin.

"There's Shelly," my wife Kathy said "we're only 20 minutes late. Practically on time, for us," she laughed. "Will you be OK?"

"Of course, I'll be fine. You just take care of what you've got to do and I'll be fine." Kathy walked off toward Shelly with a wave. I waved back when Shelly's hand acknowledged me, and then turned my attention back toward the big top. I saw cases of beer, maybe some was already cold. Just what I needed.

The party was a wedding reception. Shelly and her new husband Ken had been married out of town the previous weekend, and this was their big hometown party. Just outside of Las Vegas, the location was a perfect "old west" portion of Nevada that gamblers and show goers never see. Maybe fifteen hundred feet above the valley floor, the temperature was definitely cooler than it had been when we left town. The promise of a wonderfully cool, but not chilly, evening seemed to show that Shelly and Ken knew what they were doing when they planned an outdoor reception in September. Kathy was supposed to help with the guest book and greeting, which left me to fend for myself.

The shade under the tent, in contrast to the bright sunshine outside, made it seem almost dark. I pulled my glasses off, and wandered over toward the boxes of beer and soda. I must have looked obvious; one of the girls said "the cold ones are over there" and pointed to several large tubs of ice -- and beer. I took a cold one and slid into a corner to watch the happenings.

Kathy and Shelly had known each other for years. When Kathy was in High School, she had been Shelly's babysitter during the summers. They had become good friends, and remained so, despite the age difference. Shelly had moved to Las Vegas about 5 years before, but when she called, it was an automatic that we were there. Ken and I had hit it off OK, but we didn't have twenty years of history behind us. This was their party however; I was just along for the ride.

The caterers were swift and efficient. I soon found that my corner was where the dance floor was to be set up, so my chair departed back to the stack. Grabbing a new beer, I departed to investigate our surroundings and wander the meadow. The uphill slope toward the back of the meadow enticed me to see what was at the far end. I was wondering if it was used for horses or what when I realized I was about to step in a cows calling card that answered my question. It wasn't fresh, but still, I began to watch my step a little closer.

Approaching the upper edge of the pasture I stopped and looked back and realized we were actually on a steeper hillside than I'd first imagined. The entire valley sloped down from above, optical illusion made it look flat if you didn't take in the whole picture. Now, from my vantage point several hundred yards further up the hillside, I could see the entire valley, and through the pass, the still sunlight bathed city of Las Vegas in the far distance. Here the shadows had begun to encroach on the harsh midday sun and, with the shade, the temperatures began to ease.

I found a man gate, designed so that humans could step around and through the fence, but animals would be locked in. Stepping through, I was instantly into the sage hill. Following the trail for just a few yards I came to the edge. From there it descended to the next valley. Another pasture was visible in the distance, seeming unnaturally green against the dry brown contrast of the sage. That one was complete with cattle. I wondered if they might have been the cows that left the pie I almost found.

A large boulder provided a seat, which I used as I surveyed the valley and hills. The layers in the hills were plainly visible; and like many places in the west the bending and sloping of those layers told of the mighty geologic forces that had created the scenic wonders that we see today. Just over the crest of the hill, the sound of the party creation disappeared, the road noise disappeared, and the sight of Las Vegas disappeared. If not for the fenced pasture and cattle far below, I was probably looking at the land exactly as it had been for thousands of years. But, my beer was gone, and although it was cooling down -- it was time for another.

Walking down the pasture I could see the still sparsely populated parking lot had nearly twice as many cars as before. Glancing down the road into town, I could see for maybe ten miles. Whereas before it was empty, now I could see several cars coming our way and surmised correctly they were all party goers on their way up. I meandered into the tent and found everything now set up; the first attendees already wandering around and greeting each other.

I grabbed another beer, and found myself waved over by Ken who introduced me to several of his friends and relatives. For the next hour, as more and more people arrived, the introductions and "So tell me once again, who do you know?" questions occupied my time. My beer gone again, I headed over to the drink area to find a bottle of water. I fished one out of the tub, and turning saw her for the first time.

She was walking across the pasture from the parking area. Her husband walked beside her, each with one of two young children in tow. Her medium length black hair contrasted with the white off the shoulder blouse which covered her breasts but, even from the distance, I could tell left a tremendous amount of cleavage visible. A colorful Mexican style full skirt hid the rest of her body from sight, but somehow I had no doubt that she was well proportioned everywhere. She reminded me of someone... I couldn't quite place it. A movie... Marisa Tomei? Oh yes, Catherine Zeta Jones in Zorro.

I took my water and moving to a corner table sat and admired the young mother as she and her family found a spot. How old was she I wondered. 28? 30? Easily ten years, or more, younger than me. The children were what, maybe 5 or 6? Yeah, probably 30 was a good guess. Wow. If only I'd met her...." I became distracted by something else, and then the call to "come and git it," and when I looked back she was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, I was in no hurry and there was plenty of food. Another beer, some more socializing, and then the suggestion again that it was time to get in line.

I turned toward the line and as I did, my eyes locked for an instant with those of the young mother. It was one of those fleeting things, one of those instances across a room where you know someone was looking at you, and you know that they know that you know. Her eyes moved, but not before I had seen through her eyes and into her mind. I was instantly sure, but when she didn't look back immediately, I began to doubt. She'd been looking at me, I knew it. The faint hesitation, the slight flush of embarrassment as she knew she'd been caught. Or had I just imagined it, was it wishful thinking? As I examined her from behind, the gentle curve of her backside where the skirt fell away, the slightly visible bra strap through her white blouse, I found myself fantasizing. She turned; perhaps she felt my eyes examining her. Her gaze swept the tent, and I caught just the slightest of hesitation as she swept across my face, her eyes locking for just an instant with mine.

I became distracted with conversation, but later as I began to glance up toward her I caught her turning away. Again, one of those slightly awkward movements that said she was looking away just because I was looking up, otherwise she wouldn't have been looking away. "Damn," I thought, "could she be interested in me? God she's gorgeous."

The small talk continued around me, distracting, but not so much that I couldn't observe her and her family. Her husband was ahead of her and the two kids; with them -- but yet -- not. She spoke to the daughter, picked up the son, put him back down and said something to her oblivious husband. He turned, momentarily took the sons hand, and then moments later turned away and forgot his son again. Although they stood together, it was obvious they were in two groups: him, and the three of them.

I'd just filled my plate with food when suddenly Kathy was by my side, taking my arm and steering me toward a table where she and our hosts were already sitting. I socialized with everyone, but my mind was on the black haired young mother that had caught my fancy. Kathy had graduated us to drinks of spiked lemonade (or was that diluted vodka?). I emptied mine, and noticed that hers was nearly empty. Taking both, I stood to head toward the drink table for refills. As I looked up, the young mother was picking her way between the tables, a young child in each hand. They arrived at the table where she helped them each get a drink, and when she bent over to retrieve a bottle of water just as I got there, I was treated to an unobstructed view of her bare chest and cleavage. She straightened up, realizing I was standing and waiting. As her eyes met mine, there it was again - that flash of recognition, the electric spark of desire, and the shock of me unexpectedly being so close. She flushed slightly, an awkward pause even though nothing had been said. There it was again, and now I was sure.

"Cute kids" I said, giving her a way out.

"Oh, thanks." Her voice was as intoxicating as her face. She busied herself getting the kids and their drinks pointed back toward the table.

"Have you tried the lemonade?"

"No, but what I'd really like is something more adult".

"Trust me," I said, "this isn't for the kids." I took a full glass and handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"No problem." She started to turn away. "How old are they?" I questioned,

"Johnnie's three and Jessie's five".

"Quite a handful at that age."

"They wouldn't be with a little help." She smiled wistfully at me, turned and began herding her flock back to the table.

There was a wedding cake, toasts, tossing of a garter, all the usual wedding celebration rituals. Throughout, I noticed how to Ken and Shelly there was no one there but each other. I found myself trying to remember the last time Kathy had looked at me like that. Watching as Ken bent to remove the garter from her leg, I spotted my young mother again, holding her son on her hip, pointing out to her daughter what was happening. I wondered how long it had been since her husband had looked at her that way, or if he ever had.

Eventually the background music became dancing music and the party really began. Bride and groom at first, soon joined by everyone else, and the floor remained crowded for quite a bit of the evening. As Kathy was busy being a hostess, I was pretty much on my own. I had no problem with that; there were lots of ladies sitting around. I had a congratulatory dance with Shelly, then graduated to just having fun. I've always been a pretty good flirt, and had no problem talking anyone I wanted into a dance. Moms, Aunts, cousins, friends -- I saw my young mother corralled with her offspring and started moving toward her table. Her husband was standing nearby, drink in hand, obviously more enamored with the drink than the party or his wife. I was nearly there when I was snagged by a young teenager, "will you dance with me too?"

I smiled, graciously took her to the dance floor, and when I walked her back to her table stepped over to where I'd really wanted to be. The daughter Jessie was trying to dance with her brother, and I heard the young mother say to her kids "Will you two stay right here for just a moment while I go get another drink?"

"Excuse me, Jessie, may I have this dance?" I said, bending over and offering my hand to her daughter. Her eyes got big and looked up to her mother for permission.

"Go ahead if you want. Take the nice man's hand"

She slipped her hand in mine, and we headed off to the dance floor. I started with her attempting to dance, but with bending over, her enthusiasm, and lack of experience, we were all over the place. Reaching down I picked her up, set her on my hip and continued to dance around, carrying her the rest of the time. In my peripheral vision I saw people pointing out how I was dancing with this young girl and how enthralled with it that she was. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and Ken was there. "May I cut in?" he asked, and I slid my young charge over to him. The two of them moved on, and I moved back. A short while later, with a change of music, I saw Jessie riding someone else's hip having the time of her life.

I moved back toward the table, and found that she had also brought me another "lemonade." "I thought that perhaps you would appreciate another drink" she said, offering it to me. I thanked her saying I had worked up a thirst, and realized I had quite a buzz going from all the alcohol I'd already had. "Jessie had been dying to dance, you really made her night."

"She's certainly having a good time." I paused; for some reason asking her to dance with me made me feel like an awkward teenager at my first dance. I hadn't felt like that in years. I set my glass on the table, and holding my hand to her said "May I have the honor?"

She started to say she couldn't but a woman at the table said "Oh go ahead, Honey, we'll watch Johnnie." Capitulating, she took my hand.

The first touch of her hand was electric. My fingers wrapped around her hand, gently pulling her with me. It was more than just an escort to the dance floor, although I wasn't sure where this was going. Her grip returned mine; her hands soft, my hand burned from her touch but yet her fingers were cool from the icy glass. Moving around a chair I looked up and spotted Kathy across the way, and guiltily looked away. She'd been busy talking and hadn't seen me, but I felt like I was already cheating on her. Although I'd danced with multiple women this night, none had I desired as this one.

The music stopped just as we reached the floor. Some began to walk off, others just waited and when the next selection started it was the first slow dance in quite some time. "Yes!" I thought. I couldn't have planned this any better.

Stopping, I turned and she stepped into my arms. Sliding into the crook of my arm, her breasts resting against my chest, I put my hand behind her back and began to propel her around the floor. Her hair was just below my nose, her smell filled my nostrils. I breathed deeply. Sensing my inhale, she asked "What's that?"

"I was enjoying your smell. It's more intoxicating than the lemonade".

She laughed. "I haven't had anyone say anything that nice to me in quite some time".

"Everything about you is intoxicating. Your hair... your smell... your touch." I paused then continued. "Your beauty. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night."

"I saw you looking at me."

"And I saw you looking back." She didn't respond.

"Have you seen the way Ken and Shelly have been looking at each other all night?"

"The one that says 'I adore you' and that someone is going to get laid tonight?"

I laughed. "Exactly." I chuckled again. "When was the last time your husband looked at you that way?"

"I can't remember." The music came to an end, and immediately rolled into a faster song. Stepping back, I was now able to see my partner, watch her as I spun her, pulled her close, and moved away again. She was good, I was good; we moved together as if we'd been partners for years.

Finally the music came to an end, and the DJ's voice came across, "And by request, for Ken and Shelly," and Slow Dancing began. Pulling her to me, I felt her breasts rubbing against me once more as she caught her breath. Once more her perfume filled my nose.

"God I love your smell," I whispered so only she could hear. "If you were mine, I'd still look at you that way, like Ken looks at Shelly." She didn't respond, but I knew she was hearing me. "You've intoxicated me since I first saw you walking up from the parking lot. I can't get enough of looking at you, feeling you rub against me." I said nothing for a few moments. "If you were mine, I'd look at you with the look that says 'someone is going to get laid tonight' every night." We continued to dance, "...just me and my gal...." in the background." My god, you're beautiful".

"It's been a long time since someone said that to me." Her whisper, as mine, only loud enough for me to hear.

"I love looking at you. Your hair. Your face." I'd been looking over her head, but as I looked down, I was looking between her breasts, her cleavage begging me to look. I felt my cock stir, but there was nothing I could do. "Your breasts are beautiful." Shit, I suddenly realized I was out of control. "I'm sorry."

She giggled. "You're drunk."

"I think I am. But you're still beautiful. And sexy. And so are your breasts."

"Shhh. Not so loud, I can tell what you are thinking," and pressed her belly tighter against me. I realized my hardening member was between us, her pressing against me left no doubt that she could feel me.

Suddenly I knew what I was going to do. I heard my mouth, seemingly speaking of its own volition, "When this dance ends, I'm going over to the drink table and get another vodka lemonade. I'm going to drink that lemonade, and then I'm going to the bathroom, right over there." We'd turned so she was facing the portable restrooms that had been provided. "And when I come out I'm going to step off the far side where it's dark and walk up the pasture. At the far end is a gate and a rock and I'm going to go up there. If you were to go back to your table and wait about 5 minutes after I go to the bathroom you could follow me up there." The music stopped and I stepped back, thanking her for the dance.

She looked into my face, and said "thank you." I looked back, thinking how beautiful I thought she was and glanced down at her chest as she watched me. Her nipples were visibly protruding through her blouse.

"10 minutes." I released her hand, she turned toward her table. I turned toward the drink table, suddenly realizing I really did need to go to the restroom.

I took a moment to wet a paper towel and wash my face, wiping away the salt from dried perspiration from the dancing on my face. It didn't help the fuzzy headed feel, but my face felt better. I stepped out and off the porch into the dark. I'd expected it to be much darker than it was, the bright moon had been camouflaged by the floodlights of the party. I stopped, momentarily allowing my eyes to become a bit more accustomed. Glancing back into the party, she wasn't looking toward me. I wondered if she would come.

I walked toward the far end of the pasture. I don't think I found any cow pies, realized it was dark enough that even if I did I might not know it. Walking through the gate, a few steps to the boulder, I sat down. The valley below, bathed in the moonlight, was visible but yet, unintelligible. Had I not seen it during the daylight, I probably wouldn't have recognized the squared fences or the black dots of the cows for what they were. I don't know how long I'd been there, when suddenly I heard her voice.

"Are you there?"

"Over here," I answered. "Follow the trail." She suddenly appeared through the dark, her white blouse practically phosphorescent in the moonlight.