Another Springtime Ch. 07

She was wearing a white sweatshirt with the college logo on the front, a comfortable denim skirt, her long hair gathered behind her head with a broad white ribbon that she often used, and sneakers. With roses in her cheeks and her eyes all alight with excitement she was just pretty as a picture. She informed them casually that I was her private Russian tutor, and asked me to write each of the girls names in Russian for them. That distraction occupied a few minutes and then it was time to get on to their class and the dreaded final tests.

The little printed program handout said that Christine would be third of the eight. I sat in the second row with the few visitors and when her turn came she went backstage for a moment to make final preparations. When the prop man brought a single chair out on stage, he called my name, beckoning me forward. As the music started Christine stepped out onto the stage and immediately took my breath away. Her hair was loose down her back, she was wearing her beige silk blouse and string of pearls and a linen skirt and her white heels. She was as regal and beautiful as I had ever seen her. With the first few notes I recognized Bunny Berrigan‘s version of "I Can't Get Started with You" from my Big Bands CD. We had discussed this weeks before as we drove together because she had asked me about the lyrics – a little mystifying for someone not familiar with the 1930s in America – and I hadn't realized it that had made such an impression on her.

She immediately commenced a most artistic and understated series of delightfully feminine movements as if she were fending me off, turning away, avoiding my advances. The second stanza, with the male vocalist outlining more impressive accomplishments meant to impress her, evoked yet more definite denouncements of her suitor's offerings. If anything the third stanza led to yet greater and more pronounced efforts to disengage herself. I had by now readily equated her theme to relate to the two of us personally and was now confused by her portrayal of rejection with such... well, clarity if not really fervor. I wasn't getting it at all.

In Bunny's version there is a saxophone interlude which, as I look back now on her interpretation of the piece, suggested that her suitor lets her go to be herself... at least she seemed to interpret it that way and she strode about the stage fitfully. The fourth stanza is a stirring and high spirited trumpet solo and the crystal-clear high notes seemed to unleash her very being to find joy and happiness and her beautifully graceful dance routine followed, smooth and polished like unto a ballerina, gliding and pirouetting across the stage in an expressive and even passionate display. Somehow she managed that without being either sexually suggestive or immodest in any way; it was classical! It was magical, truly magical!

The few measures where the saxophone played then were subdued and introspective, and she dropped her eyes shyly, her feet close together and her hands clasped under her chin in contemplation.

In the closing measures the shrill and joyous trumpet reasserts itself, and she turned, responding to the music with delight in her eyes that made her entire countenance glow. She reached carefully behind her and slipped off her heels one after the other, letting them drop to the floor. Then, barefoot, in dainty and feminine, toe-first steps she closed the distance between us and knelt submissively by my side and, just as the trumpet sounded the last bars, laid her cheek so very tenderly on my knee.

The curtain closed quickly and the stage lights went out, leaving us in total darkness.

I was stunned by her polished and expressive performance. I was stunned by the message for me acted out in her dramatic design. In the darkness I leaned over and kissed her hair. She was in no hurry to move but rose as I lifted her to me and held her close and kissed her like I had wanted to kiss her for weeks now.

"Thank you, darling." It took a couple of moments to manage that. "I have never in my life witnessed such a thrillingly beautiful performance. You were magnificent."

"I love you, Dace." Her voice was tender and she was trembling with emotion in my arms. An innocent and vivacious young girl simply following her heart and doing it with a wondrous sense of beauty and love, she was more desirable than any woman I had ever known.

There are riches merely perceived... and then there are real riches. I was a wealthy man!

After a minute together for us we went out to the others so she could observe and critique the presentations of her classmates.

The only real decision for me remaining was how and when to ask her. No reason for delay here, I told myself. On the way back to the motel for our last night there before returning to Seattle, we spotted a Baskin-Robbins shop and decided to stop for some ice cream and a little graduation celebration. I asked her quite without any pretense sitting outside under the tree at the little picnic table. It was perhaps not the most romantic setting, but it felt right. The ice cream was delicious, the bright sun bathed all around us in light, the shade of the tree was a idyllic haven from the world, and we were alone. My words were not fancy or flowery, just the result of much consideration and honest desire.

She said that she had been hoping I would ask her for several days, and, yes, she would be honored to be my wife, from which very moment forward this young girl with the twinkling brown eyes altered forever my entire existence.

We walked together out to our car and she stayed very close beside me, her arm in mine. I am not positive that my feet touched the ground at all. I had not before, but now I let her in on the driver's side, so that she would be close beside me. She scooted under the wheel, but stayed in the middle of the seat as I got in and then moved close to me again. I put my arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to me.

"I love you, darling. I am so happy that we have come to this point in our relationship. You are, now more than ever before,my pretty little vixen."

She smiled shyly, looking up at me with adoring eyes that melted my heart. Her pretty mouth and the tender softness of her lips beckoned innocently, and whether she knew it or not it was evident to me that she needed to be kissed. There were cars close all around us, blocking the view of others unless they were very close, and thus, I think, she felt private with me as she snuggled close. Her mouth was open just slightly, and I brushed her lips with mine. Yes, darling, I thought to myself as I saw her eyes light up with the first little blaze of excitement, I love you… and will teach you what love is all about. I made it a point to be unhurried and gentle, just coaxing her. When I brushed her lips again with mine there was a sweet little moan of pleasure from deep within her. She waited for me, wanting me to do that again… and then I kissed her softly, not crushing or dominating, but taking possession of her sweet lips with mine, and claiming her.

Her first reaction was mixed fear and anticipation. My leaving her space and time to adjust, I think, helped to raise her excitement. Soon she was lost to the sheer joy of the experience, her head limp on my arm and her eyes closed as I kissed her lips again, and her nose, then her eyes and her cheeks and her neck, and stroked her hair. Then, my hand in her hair and my own fires burning brightly, I kissed her properly, crushing her lips, holding her tightly, and demanding her response to my domination. She had no idea, of course, just how she should respond, and what came forth was just the natural, genuine girl that I loved very much. The sweetest little whimperings from deep in her throat told me she was mine and wanted to be. When we broke for air her face was flushed and she was gasping. Her shyness was all over her and she clearly had no idea what to do.

"Do my kisses bring you happiness, my pretty little vixen?"

Her surprise at what had happened, and her own excitement, I'm sure, left her unable to say anything. She was looking at my mouth, however, and she nodded her head, and made no move whatever to pull away.

"You're fun to kiss, Darling. Let's do that again," I coaxed softly.

We did.

After a few minutes I let her come up for air, eyes wide in amazement and cheeks full of roses. She was very aroused and compliant, and just following me. I made a little ceremony of tucking her in close beside me on the seat, letting her know that such was now her place beside me always. She smiled sweetly with satisfaction, and turned slightly to me and snuggled closer, nestling my upper arm between her pretty breasts, unconsciously, I think.

We drove back to the motel in silence. The only really comfortable place for two was on the big bed, where we continued her introduction to kissing.

It was just magnificent.