by: MaryAnne
Author’s Note: Basic surmise, Hazzard law man walks through a Versace ad and ends up in the Hotel California…. LOL. This story was originally written in 2001 I just never knew what to do with it in regards to posting it, where or when. A romance challenge seemed like a good opportunity. =)
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How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget….
In the swirling fog, he saw her. A beautiful woman, the kind only seen in magazines, with the face of an angel and the body like an art sculpture. She was dressed in a white backless dress and in her hand she held a glass of white wine. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling, her short dark hair softly bouncing as she turned her head slightly.
She walked towards him, her white high heeled sandals clicking on the dark marble tile of the foyer. The room became clearer as she approached. Grand archways constructed in marble, tall vases, statues….Beverly Hills elegance and extravagance brought together. Warm lighting surrounded the foyer and veranda, accentuated with the stars in the night sky in the windows.
What was he doing here? Dirt poor law man in a rich man’s house was he?
She stood before him and offered him her glass of wine. “Come,” she said, “and join us. You will be welcome here.”
He hesitantly took the glass and slowly brought it to his lips. She watched him, her smile never fading as he took a sip of the beverage. The wine was crisp and cold. He lowered the glass and looked at the attractive woman before him.
Without a word, she hooked her arm around his and led him beyond the foyer to a larger room. There were people, all dressed in elegance. Men in black tuxedo’s, women in dresses that sparkled or revealed just enough for the imagination. They were talking, drinking and laughing. Music played in the background. Some stopped to look at who was entering and the law man suddenly became self conscious. The woman on his arm smiled and called to everyone to meet “the handsome new stranger.”
He looked at her, surprised by her description of him. He couldn’t recall anyone having thought of him as handsome, except maybe his mother. They raised their wine glasses to the stranger, welcoming him. He smiled nervously and caught looks from some of the women, who stared at him with an odd look of desire in their eyes.
The woman on his arm gave a gentle tug and led him across the room. As they passed the large fireplace, he turned to see himself in the stain glass mirror. A familiar face looked back at him with blue eyes that were full of questions. He too, was wearing a black tuxedo.
He followed the woman to another room where more people were. A large table offered hors d’oeuvre and other delicacies. The centerpiece was an angel with a harp carved in ice. The beautiful woman turned to a waiter who stopped by them with a tray of fresh glasses of wine. She replaced hers with a new one and handed one to the law man. She held her glass up in toast.
“To us,” she said. “To chance meetings and chances of the heart.”
He raised his glass, not fully understanding what she meant. The glasses chimed and then she sipped, still looking at him. He took a delicate sip, his eyes looking into hers. They were like marbles, not necessarily strong with color, but were alive with a mesmerizing design. She smiled as she lowered her wine glass.
He lowered his as well and paused a moment. He felt foolish but had to ask. “Where am I?” he whispered.
“You have traveled far,” she replied, her voice soft and understanding. But it did not supply an answer. She turned slightly and placed her wine glass down on the table. “Would you care to dance? You will understand….”
“I’m…I’m not a very good dancer,” he admitted.
“This is simple. Come.” She held her hand out to him. He placed his glass down and took her hand. They walked across the room to wide open French doors and came out to a courtyard. They were alone. The music continued from inside the house and she turned to him. He took her in his arms, doubting himself for a moment but finding the feeling comforting. They moved together with the music, a soft ballad, their bodies close together. The smell of her perfume was light and sweet, like a cool summer evening.
The beautiful woman seemed to be casting a spell on him. He soon forgot his wonderment of where he was and how he had gotten there. Her eyes soothed him, her smile comforted him. Holding her body pleased him. He lowered his head to breathe in her scent and lightly brush the side of his face against her hair and cheek.
“Now you understand…” she whispered, placing a light kiss on his cheek. He raised his head to look at her, her eyes reflecting in the moonlight. He pressed her close to him and leaned to softly kiss her on the lips. Their lips melded together and her fingers lightly traced along his jaw. His kiss spoke desperately and when it ended, she only lightly touched his hair with a healing touch and looked him in the eyes. Then, without a word, she took his hand and led him back into the house.
They ascended a grand staircase, her dress flowing gracefully behind her, her skin glowing warmly in the light of the room and stair well. He was suddenly nervous, realizing what she was leading him to next. After they reached the top of the staircase he paused, causing her to stop and look at him.
He looked her in the eyes and gave a slight shake of his head. It was not that he did not find her attractive or want to hold her body next to his. But she was a stranger, just as he was to her. Why would this beautiful stranger want to offer herself to him like this?
To answer him, she stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “No regrets,” she said. “No past, no future. Only the now, only this place.” Her hand slid up and touched his face, her eyes holding his. Her spell was powerful and the law man found himself unable to resist her. She smiled and led him to a bedroom.
The passion that ensued was tumultuous. The touch of her hands, her soft voice that tickled his ear and the feel of her skin against his made him feel that he had flown to the heavens. They made love slowly. Not cheaply, not fast. There was no hurry. They savored the moment and one another. The passage of time was unnoticed nor of any concern.
When the hours slipped away and gave release of the darkness to sunlight through the window, he was still with her. They were snuggled together, warm under the covers, her head resting on his chest.
Did it have to end? Would the rising sun bring everything to a close?
The law man closed his eyes, paying attention to the feel of her near him, the steady movement from her breathing.
He still didn’t know where he was, or why. But he knew he didn’t want to leave…
He didn’t want to leave….
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The lights of the booking room were harsh when Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane awoke and opened his eyes. His neck and left arm were stiff from having fallen asleep face down on the booking desk.
He stared at the smooth desk top, which was mere millimeters from his nose.
A dream…?
Rosco started to move to stretch his arm out and loosen his neck when his hand hit something and knocked it off the desk to the floor. It made a paper rattling noise on it’s way down and landed with a hard ka-thud on one of the chairs.
He slowly sat up now, recognizing the faint smell of a ladies perfume. He grinned as the dream started to come back to him. He had been with a woman.
Rosco paused, trying to recall details. He could see her…sort of. Her dress, the wine glass in her hand, the extravagant house they had walked through.
Did he know her?
No…no he had the feeling he did not. He wondered, then, what prompted the dream.
He stood up to retrieve whatever it was he had knocked off the desk. When he came around the booking desk he saw a magazine was what he had hit. He picked it up.
Harper’s Bazzarr. One of Lulu’s fashion magazines. He looked at the red-head on the cover and chuckled turning back to the stool behind the booking desk. He flipped through the magazine…again. He recalled having looked through it before.
He sat back down and put the open magazine down. He found the perfume ad and sniffed at it. It was the same scent he encountered when he awoke and the intimate images of the dream were a little more intense.
He decided he liked the fragrance.
He flipped through a few more pages and was about to put the magazine aside when he stopped. There, immortalized within the shiny pages was the woman of his dream. She was wearing the elegant white evening dress, her hair was dark and short. She stood in a foyer, just outside of a house that had people inside behind her but they were blurred. The nighttime sky was velvet with stars like diamonds. In her hand, was a glass of wine…
Rosco stared at the ad for a moment. Seeing her so clearly, he suddenly couldn’t help his embarrassment. He carefully closed the pages and placed the magazine aside.
But he smiled anyway…
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**The Versace ads that inspired this piece ran in the fall 2000 issues of Harpar’s Bazzar. The woman in those ads is not the woman in Rosco’s dream…but the decour of ads is. If you ever stumble on a November 2000 issue..check out the ads. To this author they felt very Beverly Hills highclass, late 1970’s to me.**
© 2001