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He knew Jeevika from work, but they'd only talked when she came into his department to visit her friends. Now, by coincidence they were at the same dance club and he watched her sitting at a table with her friends. He had always admired her at work but never mentioned it to anyone. He was the head of his department, single and known to be friendly but very quiet. Their eyes met a few times and they both smiled. Finally he decided to ask her to dance. He walked over to her and her friends expecting to be rejected by her and the brunt of tomorrow’s office jokes.
“Hello, Jeevika, would you like to dance?” He held out his hand and couldn't help his broad smile when her hand slipped into his and she said, “Uh, okay that sounds nice!” They both noticed the shocked looks of the other women at the table as she stood up and they walked to the dance floor.
He didn't pull her close but held her hand and placed his other hand lightly on her waist, while other couples were body to body.
Smiling down at her, “Thank you Jeevika, for not saying get lost!”
She looked up into his dark brown eyes, “Well then, thank you Mr. uh rather, Taran, for asking me!”
The song ended – they stood a moment waiting for the next song while he hoped it wouldn't be a fast one. It wasn’t fast and he asked, “Would I be pushing my luck if I wanted another dance?”
She smiled - It was the same smile that when she entered his office made him feel like the sun was always out, “Well Taran, I'm surprised you want to dance with me when Jagrati is at the table - but I’d love another dance with you!”
It was well known to him that Jagrati had long range plans for him but he never gave her any encouragement but always treated her with respect at work. “I’ve never been interested in Jagrati and have never encouraged anything other than a working relationship.”
She grinned and laughed, “Oh we all know that! You're the epitome of politically correct behavior, Taran!”
He laughed, “Uh oh, a death sentence if I've ever heard one. Well am I being politically correct asking you to dance in front of your friends?”
She glanced over at her friends then back at him, “Ask me if I care if we're being politically correct in front of my friends?”
“Do you care what your friends will think?”
His arm tightened around her waist and his eyes said what he couldn't bring himself to admit to her.
Sting slowly sang When We Dance while Taran’s voice, a deep baritone, sang along next to her ear - “If he loves you, like I love you…”
His hand slowly slid further back from her waist to the small of her back - Her hand slowly slid from his elbow to his shoulder. Dancing slowly his hand held hers and brought it between them, to rest against his chest, against his heart. The lights seemed to dim…the music seemed louder…one world…them.
Sting’s voice was heard over the speakers, but now she only heard Taran’s next to her ear - “He won’t love you…like I love you…he won't care for you this way….”
Her hand slid up to the back of his neck and his arm wrapped around her waist…her cheek finally resting on his chest…his head bent…his cheek resting on her soft, black hair.
Their bodies moved slowly, rocking as one. His hand holding hers moved down her arm and wrapped around her waist - her hand slid up his chest to meet her other one at the back of his neck.
Holding each other they danced in a world of their own feelings with the music holding them together.
He knew he was being bold - molding her body to his, pressing his groin into her softness. His gut tightened as she gently rubbed back against him in answer. He nuzzled her hair and kissed her forehead. He felt her snuggle closer and rub her head on his chest. Her hands now freely sifted through the back of his hair.
“Jeevika, is there a politically correct way to ask if you'd like to leave here and go someplace quiet to be alone with me?”
She looked into his eyes, “Yes, the politically correct sentence is let’s get out of here!”
Laughing he took her hand and they walked back to the table. She grabbed her jacket and told her friends she had a ride home - they left.
He drove to a quiet place to talk and put in a CD. “I've that Sting CD and want to hear that song again.” It slowly started playing as he put his seat back and reached to pull her next to him.
“I know this isn't appropriate behavior on a first date but I want to kiss you, Jeevika!”
She smiled and her black eyes sparkled like stars, “Taran, do you consider this our first date?”
Her fingers were sliding over his dark skin as he said, “The first of many, I hope!”
His lips slowly approached hers and at the first contact heat raced through his body, as he felt her soft lips respond and open for him.
Their kisses turned to passion. Months of glances in the office – smiles – shared coffee breaks brought them to where they were destined to be.
His fingers gently slid under her skirt to find silk stockings and garters. He gently ran them over her soft thighs to her panties. He couldn't to this if she didn't want him and his upbringing demanded he know, “Jeevika, I've wanted to be with you as a man for such a long time but if it doesn’t feel right to you we can leave here and go for coffee.”
She placed her long, slim delicate fingers over his lips, “Taran, we've had too much coffee together, I've wanted to be with you like this for a very long time. I want you too."
He held her close and his mouth gently kissed hers with passion, while his fingers slipped under her panties. He slowly rubbed them over her soft flesh before slipping them between her moistness and into her heat. So soft – so moist and hot – his fingers caressed up and down her folds finding their way to her most secret places. He heard her sigh with pleasure and felt her open her thighs wider in a woman’s surrender and invitation.
He didn't enter her right away but played slowly around her opening. Pushing his finger slightly in and then sliding it back to rub her swollen tender flesh. He liked how she moved trying to get his finger where she wanted him to touch. He liked how she needed his fingers inside her. He felt something begin like a small flower within his heart and looking into her eyes felt it blossom into love for her.
She began to move on his fingers and he whispered, “Jeevika, you're my woman, I feel it, we've been destined to belong together.”
She smiled looking at the depth of sincerity that Taran had blazing in his eyes and knew it to be the truth, “Taran, I love you!”
His lips sealed their new delicate love. He vowed he'd always care for her as his fingers gently claimed her in a smooth motion.
He felt her surrender to him and her hips arched her lower body to meet his thrusting fingers. They stopped kissing to look deep into the other’s eyes. Her body was doing fine, subtle motions on his fingers in the age-old dance of love and need.
He watched as it built within her. He could see it in her eyes as her body moved on his fingers bringing them together in perfect harmony. He watched as the sensations surged and ebbed until her eyes closed for a moment - her moment of release washed over her. He could feel the spasms within her sheath and kissed her eyelids and forehead, whispering, “Beautiful Jeevika, my beautiful Jeevika, my beautiful woman with her new gift to me, my future wife!”
His fingers slid gently out from under her panties and he slid her skirt back down. He heard her whisper just before their lips sealed this night and their future. “Yes, my future husband.”
As the morning light came over the hills they held each other making plans for their future. He held her tightly to him watching the dawn slowly wake the earth and said, “Jeevika, do you think your friends may be upset when they find out we'll be married?”
She smiled, “Taran, ask me if I care about what they think?”
“Do you care what your friends will think?”