winter dance

She stops to think about it.  Should she try again? What the hell, just turn to the left and do it.  The conditions are prime: the blazer's in park, he's waiting patiently for her exit, he doesn't suspect...and she's had two beers with dinner.

In one fluid movement, her body twists in his direction and she lunges her head toward his.  Her warm lips make contact.  On his cheek, near enough to his mouth.  His shoulders flex and his neck rotates away.  The fortress has been breached.  Her lips find the crook of his neck as he exclaims his opposition, "stop! what are you doing?"

She's smiling.  Or is she thinking about smiling? All happened so fast, and better than she predicted.  His excuse this time is just as lame as the rest:  chewing on toothpick pieces.  She's not waiting for the additional reasons...for the shoulders' push, and the neck's stretch, and the voiced disdain.

The passenger door opens.  Her feet hit the driveway.  She turns to face him one last time, to remind him who he's rejected.  "I'll find another man to kiss me."  She's serious.

He watches her walk purposely into the garage and launches his last defense out the open window, "or a woman!"

She stops and turns into the glow of the headlights, triumphantly flippin' him the bird.  She doesn't waste a moment thinking about consequences of her actions.  She continues her path toward the house and toward personal liberation.

Before she crosses the threshold she fills her lungs with the crisp winter air.  A cleansing breath.  She feels her heart lightly jump inside her chest as both corners of her mouth creep upward.   Mission accomplished...she lead the dance tonight.